Topic: -- Dorm Life (Open for Students)

Arkon Daraul

Date: 2010-02-28 11:23 EST
[ I've created this thread to give the students of the Institute a forum to write about the everyday endeavors of life at the school. We do a lot with storylines and planned plots, so I wanted to make sure that you guys had a place where you could go and interact or just write stories of mainstream minutia. There are no guidelines or requirements other than to have fun.

Even though I haven't been able to be on as of late I still check the boards frequently and enjoy reading your stories and writings. Please keep up the great work!


AD]

Tiatari

Date: 2010-03-03 10:42 EST
"Sh*t."

The word echoed through the labyrinthine halls of the Institute, seconds before an explosion rent the air, rocking the aged walls and sending up spirals of dust.

The plume of white smoke billowed out from the destroyed remnants of Tia's laboratory. The smell was one of lilies ironically.

Within seconds Angelica and Celeth both arrived to stare in combined consternation at the puddle of skirts in the middle of the room as Tia blinked owlishly up at them.

"What in the hell?"

"I was working on a potion for levitation. I hate being the only one who can't fly." Tia pouted. Yes, she pouted. Full lower lip puckering out as she blinked around at the destroyed remnants of her alchemy lab.

It didn't take long for the new arrivals to determine that whatever she else she had done, she had somehow removed the ability of sight.

Sightlessly she obediently tilted her head up for Celeth to check her dilated pupils as Angelica threatened to tell the Headmistress. Both lamenting the fact that they possessed no abilities to heal.

Arcadius twined his way back into the room after Celeth's gust of wind dispersed the heavy blanket of smoke, taking with it the pungent odor of cooked flowers. Picking his way carefully amongst the spilled and bubbling beakers and jars, ingredients that demanded careful handling all intermingling on the floor.

Having suitably chastised the young student, Angelica sent for help as Celeth began a lecture on the importance of precision in Alchemy.

http://www.darkmartin.net/images/artworks/illustrations/dunwichAlchemy.jpg

L'loris Ondyn

Date: 2010-03-05 00:45 EST
"Here."

The word stopped the small efreet in its tracks. Her belongings deposited within the new bedchamber. At least this "dormitory" wasn't the typical cramped quarters of most boarding schools.

A glance at the barrren walls and empty bookshelves reminded her again that she had nothing. No one, in fact. Every single person, with the exception of an old enemy, was dead. Gone.

She was the last of her kind and she had nothing.

Anger seethed, raged, and boiled beneath her cool surface. It burned away at the facade of control that she had kept firmly in place. An easy enough task after nearly a century in captivity, she had learned patience.

A place to stay. A chance to learn from others with arcane abilities. An opportunity to find a way in a world that made no sense.

The last infernal elf of RhyDin stood in the center of her new rooms at the Institute and slowly smoldered.

Ridger Idris

Date: 2010-03-07 02:35 EST
Could this be home? After years of wandering, could he finally be home?

Ridger stepped into the empty, stone-walled room and gently laid his pack on the bare mattress that had been pushed up against the wall. He went to the window and looked out. The landscape that met his gaze was alien, but at least he could recognize trees and flowers and grass. Some of the places he'd been were so utterly foreign that it hurt his eyes just to look. Things that appeared vegetable in nature were actually animal and he'd had more than a few close calls with man-eating flowers.

He moved away from the scene outside and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. He picked up his pack and opened it, pulling out his meager belongings - a heavy cloak for cold weather, a spare shirt in a brilliant royal purple, a single, leather-bound spell book, and a small wooden box, the lid of which had been carved with a motif of butterflies. It was the only thing that remained of his mother. The cloak and the shirt he set aside before opening the box and poking through the treasures held inside. There was a scrap of bold chartreuse silk, a remnant of his mother's favorite dress. There were some brilliant, river-tumbled stones in bright turquoises, rosy pinks, sparkling golds and peaceful verdant greens. His fingers curled around a dried flower, something called a pansy, with purple and yellow petals that were arranged in the shape of a face. And finally, he gently removed the most thing precious he owned - a tiny, painted miniature of his mother and father on their wedding day. The colors used were bold, bright and true; they hadn't faded one bit in the over thirty years since it had been painted. He closed his eyes and replaced the portrait before shutting the lid of the box.

With a sigh, he stood, carrying with him the book and the box, setting both on the desk that had been thoughtfully supplied by whatever headmaster or mistress who ruled the Institute. Then, straightening his shirt and his vest, he stepped out into the hallway, letting the sounds of friendly chatter lead him to where his fellow students were gathered.

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2010-03-08 16:04 EST
The wards placed along the empty halls of the Institute were clever, that was certain. They dispelled invisibility while simultaneously paralyzing the sneak, leaving whoever was foolish enough to try and slip through them standing frozen until one of the hall wardens came meandering past. But that was only the start. The punishment was rumored to be the most unfathomable of brutalities that ended with a spell cast to steal away all detailed memories of the castigation, save for the excruciating agony that it caused. Elkinid knew of only two students who had been caught, and both of them became physically overwhelmed when pressed for details about the sentence; one spewing vomit all over the floor and the other saturating his breeches with urine.

Needless to say, being caught wasn't exactly on his to-do list.

He was observant enough to know, however, that the new 'decorations' that popped up along corridors and hung from walls were probably more than just mundane decorum, and made sure to keep his distance from them as he snuck, slinked, and crept through the halls, using a variety of spells to amplify his already stealthy motion rather than be the main focus of it, and it was working brilliantly.

Pushing through the door with a shoulder, tawny embers flicker to life with magical illumination in languid scrutiny of the common room that connected Tiatari's bedroom to Angelica's, shifting between doors. For a moment thoughts lead him down an imaginary path that included the exploration of their slumbering forms, but ultimately his self restraint won, and instead he simply called out.

"Hey! I thought you were going to come check out my conjuration! Rise and shine! Guuan phor!"

Finding a seat upon the arm of the couch, he drew a leg up to rest his arm upon. He waited patiently, eyes moving between closed doors, a silent, internal wager set on who would wake up first.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2010-03-08 22:54 EST
She was used to getting up at the ass-crack of dawn. Afterall, she had spent a few summers in the field with the mercenary companies. She was already dressed in her training leathers with her damp hair tied back.

"Ser dosst pants pholor. Usstan tlun phor." She retorted as she stepped from the room. "If someone hadn't been such a tease last night."

She was in a mood for pay back. She may be helping him out with classes, but she was in one of those impish moods.

Luckily her ferrets were sleeping in the other room.

L'loris Ondyn

Date: 2010-03-08 22:57 EST
Frustration gnawed at her like an angry beast, tearing with sharp teeth of irritation. She felt rent. Torn. Shredded. The restless energy sent her in a snapping whirl of a pace.

Her first night she rested not at all. No sleep. No reprieve. No reverie.

She paced.

Back and Forth. Forth and Back.

Wearing a path in the center of her room.

The second night she wandered the halls and poked her head into random rooms. She felt no urge to befriend the other students. Less of an urge to play nice with the guest adjunct lecturers auditioning for their spots within the Institute.

In fact, the joke of a Necromancer who sought to impress the students with his control of the un-dead would never return again. A smirk at the thought of his screams after she inquired about that private lesson with just a hint of possibilities for extra credit intimacy.

The Dark Arts weren't for dabbling.

The third night arrived and with no rest on the horizon she slipped from the halls of the school in search of something, anything to distract her from the hard tight ball of Nasty that wouldn't leave her be.

Tiatari

Date: 2010-03-09 11:51 EST
Really?

That was the only word her tired mind could twine around. At that precise moment she hated Kinid and Angelica with something akin to honesty. Of course, it was fleeting, because she adored them both and with conscious thought whispering through her initial sleepy reaction she couldn't help but smile at their banter.

She had been up until the wee hours working on the inventory of the alchemy lab after being busted by Celeth for her filching. It had been a herculean affair. The amount of ingredients needed for a school this size was seriously bountiful. It didn't help that Tia was compulsive and detailed. Every single ingredient had been weighed, tallied, marked down in the log. Every single shelf had been cleared, cleaned, dusted (with the help of air elementals).

Pristine. Organized within an inch of madness.

Pleased with herself she had returned back to her rooms to interrupt the teasing flirtatious banter of her roommate and the irreverent Kinid.

Mercedes had offered a modicum of a distraction; yet, Arcadius was still furious that the raven familiar had attacked him. In the midst of soothing him she had met L'loris in the hallway and just as quickly lost her as the red-headed elf had disappeared.

Thinking of L'loris reminded her of the other new student she had made the acquaintance of: the princeling Ridger. He seemed to be as odd as the rest of them.

And thinking of odd made her immediately think about Vesper. The Unseelie Instructor had requested special lessons this morning. With a sigh she kicked the covers from her nightgowned form and rose to set about dressing as she listened to Angelica and Kinid converse in that strange language of the elves of dark.

She had a potion brewed that allowed her language comprehension but she kept that little secret to herself to be used at a time most appropriate.


For now, she finished dressing and poked her head out in their shared commons with a smile, "Morning!"

L'loris Ondyn

Date: 2010-03-21 11:24 EST
She had tried. The Inn had dazzled and danced with a myriad assortment of personalities and social intricacies. She wasn't a people watcher. She couldn't tell you who was there that night nor any of their personal peccadilloes.
Spotting Tiatari and her motley assortment of friends had at least given her a destination, but it hadn't taken long for her to regret such a grouping.

The arrival of the two offworlders and their discussions had at least been a distraction from the hard ball of angry that refused to dissolve. Rhaine had offered something new with her interpretations of other races. She hoped that this one actually appeared on campus. She might actually take her class.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2010-04-11 12:12 EST
While she didn't mind the flirting and the heavy teasing, she was not her mother. Her mother was the one that did the no strings attached before she settled down with her father. That was not her...

It was those thoughts in mind that brought her to the inn that night and Zabdiel. Mother knew and said nothing except to smile her acceptance. Afterall, her mother was a Ravinist, a demon who is supposed to foster and aid dark races.

She was thankful for the growing shadow abilities. It allowed her to sneak in and out to her mother's holdings in the city. She was always on time to classes, but she had some extracurricular activities that she was enjoying.

Okay, so she broke her own rules that first night, but she was drawn to him and he understood her. That was the best part... He knew what it was like and understood.

She slipped through the shadows after having left her chambers at the manor. She had an early class and it wouldn't do to be late.

L'loris Ondyn

Date: 2010-05-10 12:13 EST
She awoke in the Infirmary.

Pissed.

There was no telling how the outcome of that little affair had turned out. Did Tiatari still live? The warrior whose blade had reminded her of a passion she had nearly forgotten? Did Vesper succeed in capturing the ravenous beasts?

Infuriated she kicked off the covers that contained her and was immediately buffeted back by the wind of an air elemental. Nearby a fire elemental puffed warmth into the already heated confines of the room. The rumbling grating sound of an earth elemental could be heard somewhere behind her and even as the thought emerged she found herself suddenly enveloped by a water elemental, the swishing wet sensation gliding all about her and stealing her breath with little warning.

She gasped for air as it pulled back and the furnace like heat of the fire-kin swelled around her to dry her.



It was moments later that she escaped. It had taken some arcane talent, the whipcord agility of an elf, and the sheer frustrated rage of "pissed" to leave her nursemaids behinds.

Poorly supervised elementals were dangerous when they were bent on a task of healing. This school needed a Master of the Healing Arts and quick as with Vesper as the Groundskeeper she was fairly certain injuries would only pile up.

Thinking of injuries reminded her that she hadn't seen Tiatari in the infirmary and she set off in the direction of the Groundskeeper's cottage. It was time to get some answers.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-10-20 09:47 EST
With the wartorn setting suiting up to be a perfect distraction, Satariel turned her attention to fleshing out the school with denizens from far reaching realms. The influx of new casters might've created a stir if people had the time to notice, but with the fireworks from the skies and the cannon fodder marching all over the realms, now seemed the perfect time to increase the Shaitan numbers.

L'loris' flight was a nuisance and one she would leave Arkon to focus upon. His additional focus on grooming Tiatari to be his disciple had left the newest student to her own devices.

Quillyan "Quilly" Daewen.

It was this student that drew her own attention. She exhibited a fascinating personality: Ambitious drive and intellect that served her personal gains, tempered by the impulsivity of youth.

Yes, this one was to be watched and molded.

She arranged for Quillyan's dorm rooms to be near the steps that led to her own personal tower, (though they apparently led nowhere, the ancient steps dead ended into a magnificent clockface).


Flipping through the assembled novitiates images she sought the perfect roommate for one so fascinating...

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-10-20 22:01 EST
She never thought it possible, but the very air was heavier. It?s weighty hands hung upon her bony shoulders with the terrible burden of prestige, of ancient expectations. Those hallways, sombre in pure form and containing an atmosphere of singular oppression, drained the courage from her soul; she felt ill, unnerved, unsettled, undone.

Metronome steps echoed remorselessly as she trailed two or three paces behind the student assigned to escort her to her room. As the pendulum of Quillyan?s excessive emotion swayed toward the morose, her mind filled the silence between steps with furious fears: this was a mistake; this was calamity, for sure; this just --

And then she saw them, merely a triad of fellow novices, looking solemn but altogether approachable.

She smiled.

The voiceless chatter of her fears was overwhelmed by a sudden fortitude. Spells and magic were still matters beyond her ken, but peers -- she certainly understood her peers. Steps slowed, the assured (and assuring) smile still gracing her countenance with more boldness than she was owed, and, lo and behold - in unison and on perfect cue - the sullen trio tentatively returned her smile.

Charming.

The politician's expression faded into the steady set of a concentrated scowl as the vision of the novices faded over her shoulder. This time would be different.

She would focus.
She would read.
She would study.
Every night... at least until she met some people.
No. Every night.

?Here you are,? spoke the guide as he halted before an isolated door, breaking the reverie of her resolutions.

?Here I am,? repeated she as she entered, beholding the new dwellings with an energetic earnestness. Stone and antiquity, of course, but bestowed with a sorrowful sternness that she imagined could be strangely endearing. She set her bag down.

It would certainly do.

?So where do you stay?? inquired she of the guide, but for an answer, only silence. He was gone.

Arkon Daraul

Date: 2010-10-24 00:55 EST
The standard novitiate items were placed methodically upon her bedspread, which was flawlessly cast across the span of the mattress.

A wand.

A spellbook.

A cloak.

All of them were empty of magic, which should have been expected considering the syllabus given to new students detailing a course-load including spellcraft, wandcraft, and item creation. There was really nothing special about any of the items, their craftsmanship exposing a more generic approach to engineering, but because the Institute was adamant about Spell Caster's proving individuality based on talent and advancement, these nonspecific sort of unremarkable objects removed any sort of indication otherwise. Wizards of the Institute would be evaluated on substance, not style.

Placed upon her bed was a note as well, a single piece of parchment folded in half with the emblem of the IAP emblazoned across the front.

It read:


http://i836.photobucket.com/albums/zz281/AukaiMastema/Emblem.jpg

Dear Miss Daewen,
Welcome to the Institute of Arcane Principle. We hope your inaugural visit has been enlightening and fascinating. Undoubtedly by now you've seen your novitiate schedule and understand the labors that will ensue over the next few weeks. Don't worry, it's hard for everyone. Just remember that you are not alone, and that after a week or so you will start to adapt to the overwhelming class work and soon after it will be second nature to push yourself as hard as needed to stay on time and on task.

All of the articles that you will need to get started; quills, ink, material components, uniform items, can be found in the Campus Supply Center located to the east of the central library, through the emerald doors. If you have any questions please feel free to seek out your dorm attendant. If he/she cannot help you, follow the necessary procedure and take the next appropriate step. I look forward to meeting you soon face to face.

Arkon Daraul


Another note of interest that might divide her attention was the second bed that sat cattycorner to her own with sheets that were not nearly as pristine and a large duffle bag slung across it, partially opened to show the glittery shimmer of something tucked inside.

Apparently, she had a roommate.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-10-24 20:46 EST
Quillyan skimmed the note, absorbing its tone but few facts, her mind half distracted by the wand, the book, the cloak; by the arrangement of the room; by the color of the walls; by the landscape gracefully unfolding outside tall windows; oh hell: by the very ceiling.

She let the letter fall back to the bed, forgetting its contents almost instantly, except for the last line, which teased a somewhat self-satisfied smile from the solitary student. ?Let?s hope, for my sake,? she murmured into the empty air, ?that it?s under better circumstances than the last time I found myself in front of an administration.?

And despite the sincerity of her sentiment, she couldn?t repress a giggle at the memory of boiling rage of her last headmaster. What glorious madness, and quite a bit of fun, too.

Sapphire-hued eyes again swept the simple dwelling. With no inclination to settle in just yet (there was simply too much to see and explore), she made a quick decision to unpack later, and afterward, she would get around to reading the novitiate course syllabus and deciphering all of that... stuff. For the time being, she remained content to avoid these academic elements, unnerved still by a vague fear that whispered taunts of impending failure should she allow her mind to quiet for even an instant. Best to stay otherwise occupied.

The roommate.

Entirely expected, but nevertheless an element of curiosity. At her last school, she?d been blessed with an ideal roommate: a timid, easily-influenced girl who served as an ?assistant? of sorts and often ?helped? with her schoolwork.

Quillyan idly studied the duffle bag, noticing the hint of glitter. Shy people don?t tend to wear glitter. Unthinking, she stepped toward the other bed and began subtly poking through the visible contents, careful to not disrupt the bag too much, searching for any clue as to the personality of her roommate.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2010-10-28 22:31 EST
"Keep your hand up, Blizzard! You keep droppin' it like that and he's gonna knock your head off!"

Blizzard instantly brought his hand up to shield the exposed side of his face, his other held in a tight fist at chest level, ready to be unleashed upon his adversary. It was a typical Sunday afternoon. After a quick stint at the local commune - Mother's insistence - he and his father partook in the bonding that pugilism somehow forged.

As his opponent lunged forward with a barrage of quick strikes, Blizzard found himself backpedaling and swiping at the incoming fists. One was able to glance him on the chin but none of the others landed.

"You see!" His father roared from between the ropes. "If you don't have your hand up then I'm scraping your face off of that wall over there."

Blizzard circled on the balls of his feet, batting away two rogue punches, and scowled at his mentor. "You know, I would probably be just fine if I could concentrate."

"Oh, well then! By all means, Master of Knowledge, let me sit on my thumbs and watch you go to work."

Finally, silence.

Again his opponent came in, but Blizzard was able to use his nimble footwork and quick hands to keep any of the blows from doing damage. He was frustrating the veteran fighter across from him. It was obvious by the stiff shoulders and narrowed eyes. He was going to try and finish Blizzard with a big shot. He was going to expose himself.

A pair of left handed jabs came for Blizzard's face, meant to get his hands up and his eyes off the right fist, which came rocketing in behind at his uncovered chin with a heavy step and sharp turn of the hips. As Blizzard expected, the veteran put the entire fight on the line with this single punch. He put all of his proverbial eggs in this hooking basket.

Blizzard ducked.

He ducked and stepped into the wide-open midsection of his opponent, driving his fist into the exposed solar plexus, causing tight muscle to fold around his stealthy counter-attack. He followed by torquing his shoulders, rising up with a quick and sharp twist that snapped a strong uppercut into the hovering chin above him. Stunned, the man went glassy eyed, and let his hands drop, which gave Blizzard a clear shot to finish him off.

A straight right hand collided with the man's face, crumpling him to the ground.

Blizzard panted for air with intense exertion, a small smile curling his lips as he stood victoriously over his fallen foe. A strong arm took him around the shoulder and pulled him into a sidelong hug. It was his father. He didn't have to see him, he could feel him.

"Told you." Blizzard smirked.

"That you did. Maybe I should just shut my yap and let you be the man you're becoming."

Blizzard held the silence for a moment before turning a look up to his embracing father. "Naw. I need ya, dad. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Sure ya could!" His father said as he drew him in and kissed him on the forehead. "It's me that can't do it without you, Blizzard."

"...Blizzard..."

"......Blizzard..."

"........Blizzard!"

****************************************
His eyes opened without blinking to stare across the cab at where Mrs. Hannigan sat. The carriage was slowing to a stop, and from his peripheral Blizzard could see out the window that they no longer traveled through thick forest, but were instead in close proximity to a building, and a rather large one at that.

"We're here." She said in her angelic voice.

"We're?" Blizzard replied dryly as he turned to look at the massive edifice that awaited him, his attention drawn to a group of students who gathered around a sign reading INSTITUTE OF ARCANE PRINCIPLE. They were young like him, but that seemed to be where the similarities ended.

"Blizzard." Mrs. Hannigan said lovingly, her tone normally one reserved for a child. "This is what's best for you. We've talked about this."

He slowly turned back to her. She was right. They had talked about it. After his family had been murdered he stayed with the Hannigans, who were lifelong friends of his parents. They were seasonal residents, though, and with the changing of the season it meant that it was time for them to make their way back to their homeland; A realm far beyond the borders of Rhy'din, where Lycanthropes reigned over humans.

He was given a choice. Fall victim to their bite and truly join their pack, or stay in Rhy'din. Torn, he ultimately decided that becoming a Werewolf wouldn't grant his mother's soul a peaceful rest and that staying in the city was the best course. Mrs. Hannigan knew someone who knew someone who could speak on his behalf, and rather than leave him to wander Rhy'din alone, she got him admitted into the prestigious Institute of Arcane Principle, where he could spend his days developing the same remedial magic that he had picked up while living with them.

Blizzard gave another apathetic look at the sign and pushed the door open, stepping out of the carriage.

"Bliz, darling, I want you to remember that this is a new beginning for you. And that if you don't like it after six months we'll return to Rhy'din and get you out."

The door closed and he nodded to the driver, who already had his bag removed from its perch on the back of the carriage and at his feet. "New beginning." He repeated softly.

Exactly what he didn't want.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-10-29 07:29 EST
Quillyan Daewen]

She would quickly find that the source of the tawny glimmer was, in fact, alive.

Coiled loosely just inside the bag was a slender draconic creature resting its triangular head comfortably upon its haunches. Subtle breathes caused slight motion, which was just enough for the reflective scales that covered its reptilian length to cast shimmering echoes of illumination. Asleep, the draco gave no response to her investigation other than the random and mindless perk of an elongated ear.

"Et, hem."

That simple sound was both exaggerated and accusatory, and with a turn she found who possessed it. He stood in the doorway, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the frame, the dark shade of precarious eyes trained upon her.

"Rule number one." He said as he pushed off of his perch, his sable half-cloak falling open to reveal the customary blazer of an apprentice beneath. "No touching."

He crossed the room, passing her with almost a brush, and carefully collected the ajar duffle. His movements were vigilant and concentrated, meticulous in his care for his familiar. Sliding both arms beneath the bag, he lifted it from his bed and attentively placed it at the nearest corner where a nest area had been previously constructed.

He turned back to face her, the thick cascade of copper-red hair spilling around him, framing his youthful visage and splashing across his slender shoulders like a hood. His gaze drifted over her in obvious appraisal, measuring her physical stature amongst other more detail attributes, and when it reached her eyes he extended his open hand between them.

"Albion Sepherock." He greeted. "Apprentice."

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-10-29 23:12 EST
(Albion Sepherock)

Startled twice, so it seems, in only a matter of seconds.

As fingertips delved into the bag and unexpectedly tread the sleek surface of the reptile, her hand immediately recoiled, as if singed by some unseen flame. A simultaneous and unabashed yelp burst from her lips, echoing for a moment in the mostly-empty room.

What the...?

Then, after a moment of sensible recovery and a decidedly quizzical turn of her pretty features (still cradling the hand to her bosom, and peering, creature-curious), she tentatively lifted the edge of the bag, watching the silent breath of the slumbering dragonish-thing. She felt the corners of her cherubic mouth tugging upwards in fondness, for the strange little monster was actually pretty cute.

"Et, hem."

Quillyan?s slender figure launched away from the bag in another start, lengthy legs tottering backwards in a stumble of graceless steps. Wide azure eyes, unblinkingly guilty, met the cloudy stare of the offended owner.

Damn. Well, so much for first impressions.

She caught her breath to withhold the sigh of disappointment, and respectfully silent, forced an abashed smile as he relocated his familiar. A draft caught its airy fingers in a couple of stray scarlet locks, and she tucked them away thoughtlessly in her low ponytail. Only when his hand extended in greeting did the barrage begin.

?Quillyan Daewen,? said she, syllables embellished with the velvety depths of devastating affection. ?It?s so good to meet you, Albion. I like your blazer. Is that your creature? I know you said not to touch it, but I must say, it?s very interesting. Does it sleep a lot? How much does it eat? What does it eat? Did you get it when you were a novice? I?m a novice, or I will be, I suppose, when classes start tomorrow, or maybe when I go pick up my uniforms a little later. But anyway, I?ve been thinking a lot about familiars, and I?m thinking, maybe some type of bird? I don?t quite know yet, but I suppose that?s what first year is for, right??

Oh gosh. Where did all of that come from?

The smile seemed a bit weaker: genuinely and strangely endearing. Hopeful.

"So...are you my roommate??

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-10-31 12:48 EST
"That...was certainly a lot of questions." He said as he watched her, though he could tell by the fading enthusiasm lingering around her smile that she was running out of steam. He recalled his first day at the Institute, and while it had only been a year ago, the discomfort of those initial few weeks still burned in his memory.

He started with the familiar, glancing to where the duffle that held the dragon sat. "His name is Viisaus. He eats rabbits and small birds. I did get him during my first year, though don't rush it. Familiar's aren't instruments as much as they are amplifiers, and if you choose the wrong one you could end up detonating your brain in the middle of casting. My rule of thumb was let the familiar come to you. It'll work."

He looked down to the buttons that fastened the blazer closed. "It's an apprentice jacket. You'll get one next year, assuming that you survive and advance beyond novitiate." He didn't mince words when it came to that sort of thing. Eight students from his original class were no longer with him - two were incinerated, three transmuted themselves into vapor and dissipated before they could be returned to their original form, one gated himself into the center of a star and the other two tried shadow-walking without instruction; who knew where they were - so he didn't mind speaking with such critical terminology.

"And if I were you I would run or fly or teleport yourself to the student center now. With classes starting tomorrow, everyone and their imp will be looking for last minute items and accessories to finish up their uniform, which means that some things might be sold out. No uniform, no class. No class, no grade. No grade..." He glanced down and then back up. "...no jacket."

With a sidelong look he found the familiar binding of a book he had been looking for wedged inside a series of volumes where it had no business being. He took one step that way and then stopped, looking back at her to answer her final inquiry.

"Yes." He said firmly. "We are roommates."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2010-10-31 13:09 EST
It was amusing to see the various faces about the institute. She could probably find out where those shadow walking students disappeared too...

... provided the Sentinels didn't get to them first. A pity really, but while she was strong enough to walk safely through the Shadows, she wasn't strong enough to command those creatures...

...Yet

She was mercifully in her quarters preparing for another fun-filled day of classes, drills and beatings. Weapons masters, especially drow are brutal.

Even in her own thoughts, there was that hint of sarcasm.

She wanted nothing better than to be wrapped around her 1/2 demon lover. Even when the man was being infuriatingly protective. With her mother's ascension in Pheoncia, it was needed though the schools wards were impressive.

And with her mother in attendance as an instructor...

Even her own demon had been subdued of late. She still poked and prodded at her, but with the embracing of her magic and the darkness. The creature seemed content.

What had her frowning though, was the uniforms. She looked at the female costume and scowled while muttering, "(vq) Ye flaming gods, this is so unpractical... I don't even own a skirt this bleeding short."

Then a thought occurred to her. "(vq) I could model it for Zabdiel..." Oh now there was a grin forming.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-11-02 21:54 EST
With each of Albion?s insights, Quillyan?s head bobbed in a near-continuous nod, responding to each fact with an expressive variation of fair feature that was roughly as follows: attentive, pleased, surprised, skeptical, horrified, amused, and mildly panicked. Moderately panicked. Panicked panicked.

?Wait, they?re going to sell out of uniforms?? she blurted, her melodic voice lifting in alarm.

Without waiting for an answer, she began moving toward the door, her eyes still locked on her roommate in emphatic sincerity: ?Wow, thanks for the hint. I?ll go down there right now. Where is it? No wait, I know.? Steps reversed, she snatched the welcome letter from her belongings and began again skimming: ?I?ll be able to find it.?

Narrowly avoiding a collision with the doorframe, she paused only to offer Albion a surprisingly poised smile.

?You should look over my class schedule with me - you?ll have to give me the run-down on the instructors! Will you be around later?? Not a breath interrupted her rapid-fire exclamations: ?Of course you will. You live here, too. I?ll be back soon. I hope.?

And with that, she slipped out in the room, vanishing in the wrong direction before her dear roommate had the opportunity to offer a correction.

***

Struck unaware by the immediate compulsion to absorb the information within Arkon?s welcome letter and her novitiate schedule, Quillyan wandered halfway up the clock-tower stair before taking notice of her unfamiliar surroundings.

With a sudden cease of movement, the slim girl looked downward, and upward, the lingering shadows inspiring a slow angst that crawled in a cold shudder up her spine.

?Wrong way,? she whispered into the absolute silence, and fled back downward in a flurry of clicking steps.

***

It took perhaps half of an hour to find the central library, but the journey?s progress was somewhat impeded by twice stopping to ask for directions from fellow students. Simple instructions led to exchanging appellations, ranks, and other friendly chatter; by the time she found herself in front of the grand library doors, Quillyan had gathered numerous pleasantries, names, and an even invitation for dinner with Vliss, an amicable fellow novice.

After this, the eastern emerald doors of the Campus Supply were a breeze to locate, and Quillyan gleefully immersed herself the chaos residing therein.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-11-04 11:45 EST
At one point during Quillyan's alacritous explanation Albion opened his mouth to interject, but quickly realized that getting a word in edgewise was nearly impossible. Instead he let her go on as she asked questions and answered them, made assumptions and denounced them, and made observations and corrected them. By the time she was done and heading for the door all he could do was nod.

He looked down at the book in his hands and wiped a thin veil of dust off the cover, making the ancient text inscribed upon it easier to read.

Kniha transmut?cia.

The book of Transmutation, by Coddle Guillotine.

It had helped him immensely his novitiate year while trying to master metamorphic magic and he knew that it would do the same for Ivinia. Hmmm, the name brought with it a vision of his lover, which in turn caused hands to firmly embrace the binding of the book in reminiscence of her. Her scent lingered on the edges of his senses. Her touch haunted his fingertips, his lips, his tongue. He wasn't a fool, either. Trying to find her would be difficult, but finding her roommate, Mystriana Desabre, would be much easier as well as lead him to her.

He turned and started for the door, stopping but a step or two along his path as his gaze drifted across the expanse of the room and fastened upon a peculiar item.

Her bag.

She had left it on the bed.

He glanced at the door and back again just moments before his thin lips creased into a smile. "What's good for the goose..." He murmured as he waved a hand and sent the ajar barrier swinging shut.

"What do you think, Viisaus?" He glanced over his shoulder to the duffle,
able to see just a smidgen of the sleeping Fae Dragon inside. "Shall we learn a little more about our new friend?"

He got no response from the slumbering familiar, though didn't really need one.

He moved for the bag and began to riffle through her belongings.

Ivinia Delirian

Date: 2010-11-04 17:33 EST
She watched the pretty little redhead move past her with nary a glance. It wasn't something she was used to: this whole being overlooked thing. But then again the girl had seemed entranced by the letter she was perusing.

Whatever the reason she shrugged it off easily enough when she received her summons. A delicious little thrill of naughty excitement sending her off away from the searching Albion.

Though she did take a minute to note how adorable it was that the two redheads shared a room. She'd have to come up with a nickname: The Titian Twins? The Ginger Duo?

*******

Later, after her illicit meeting with a particular professor she was storming off to confront Mystriana's for her ill-timed interruption. Knowing her new roommate she was certain that blackmail was on the agenda. Sidetracked by the sight of Tiatari and Uziya she paused to be introduced to the very attractive Illusionist.

And like most things related to Ivinia, it served a dual purpose. A secret mission for the Mastema? And something involving the missing third year student, an infernal elf.

Like most things she involved herself in, it was assuredly none of her business but that did nothing to halt her.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2010-11-04 19:51 EST
He was far from happy. Okay, mild understatement...

... He was quite pissed off.

He did not want to end his lessons with Cerise. Even though they had agreed that he needed more instruction, she had shown him all she could.

Which was significant...

He really did not want to be in a school where he couldn't spend the time with her. He certainly did not want to sit in formal classes all day with other competing for the master's attention.

... And they want Ice in Hell.

So here he was, with his mother, getting enrolled in the Institute.

Maybe he'd see that cute alchemist that Crystal helped...

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-11-06 17:03 EST
Albion?s searching would yield at least two conclusions: the girl had not a clue how to properly fold clothes, but she did possess a bizarre fondness for...keys? Bejeweled or antique or simply practical, there were dozens; some on necklace-like chains, some bound together in sets, some floating freely amid the riotous medley of colors and textures that seemly constituted her wardrobe. There was truly no method to this madness, merely haste and carelessness.

But that brillantly-colored lace? Oh, sexy little underthings.

Make that three conclusions.

***

And a full three hours following her frenzied departure, Quilly stumbled down the hallway, willowy postured bowed and burdened by the bounty of her trip to the Campus Supply. Kish matched her, step for step, filling her ear with his theories and philosophies of evocation, and she, borrowing his enthusiasm, managed to slip in an affirmation or exclamation between his meditations.

They paused at the doorway to his room, two down from her own. This was good, she mused, seeing as Kish shared half of her eight classes and was, quite clearly, a genius; he was a valuable resource twenty seconds away.

She continued toward her room alone in slow, wandering steps, beginning to finally show the physical and emotional fatigue of the long day. Completely lost in thought, she barely noticed the massive shadow of the minotaur overtaking her steps, and as the Dormitory Warden brushed by her, the shock of his sudden appearance so affrighted the girl that she squeal out: ?MONSTER!? and dropped her newly-acquired belongings.

***

Quillyan hurriedly pushed open the door to the dorm room, slipped in, unceremoniously dropped her things at her feet, and slammed the door behind her. Her back thumped against the door in relief, a sigh of disbelief parting those plump little lips.

?Okay, who is Sartha and why is he so angry??

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2010-11-07 18:05 EST
The Ritual

The crackling warmth of the fire held her enchanted before it. Long, coltish legs were folded beneath her. In the cradle of her lap set a bundle of parchments of a variety of textures and sizes.

There was no rhyme to her choosing. She followed no specific pattern. As the memories assaulted her, she bit into the plump perfection of her raspberry lips. It was an unconscious act. But it was a successful one. The soft cry of mourning would not surface this time.

Gently her fingers plied through the assortment until she grasped one vellum sheet from the others. A fine shimmer of a tremble took hold as she drew the document to her gaze and allowed the words there to resonate.

The midnight blue of her gaze became misty as tears sparkled unshed. His words were beautiful. Scrawled across the page, his heavy manuscript was distinctively recognizable.

Once read, she leaned forward and let the love letter drift from her fingertips to float in a feather fall upon the flames. As the parchment blackened and scorched and the words disappeared forever, she let the tears slip for the moment unheeded.

Moments passed.

A silent mourning.

And then with a cleansing breath that filled her lungs, expanded her chest and lifted her shoulders, she moved once again.

A shuffle of the remaining letters revealed that her monthly ritual had purged her of a great many of them. Soon she would have fully exorcised the evidence of their tryst from existence and hopefully the lingering pain of his memory from her heart.

Tucking the parchment inside the small treasured box, she whispered the arcane spell that would keep them protected from all but her own trespass. As she rose the light of the fire cast across her and the silhouette of her willowy body was framed within the white billowing length of her demure gown. With the box clasped to her chest she wiped the remaining trace of her tears from her face even as the door to the shared quarters opened to admit her roommate, Brais.

His timing was as impeccable as his cold amibition.

She offered him a distant smile, unaware that the raspberry plumpness of her lips was swollen with her despair and that her tears had spiked her lashes into a glistening framework illuminating her pain-filled midnight eyes.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-11-09 20:41 EST


Brais hadn't meant to let the door open so noticeably, so consumed was he in his private contemplation that he had momentarily forgotten his plan to stealthily enter the shared quarters. His dark eyes ascended to observe the interior of the chamber and instantly took hold of the vitiated beauty clutching the box to her chest, attention fixated upon the plump moue of her lips.

He paused, observing her from the doorway. Her beauty was undeniable, and with the way the fire burned behind her, casting her gown into translucency, it appeared as though her sensual curves were concealed in nothing more than a gossamer shadow.

The smile she gifted him with was met by a dispassionate reprieve, and he said nothing in observation of her obvious pain. Instead he crossed the room without so much as a word and disappeared inside his room, letting the door fall closed behind him.

He liked Fleur, he truly, but he was also wise enough to understand that his form of compassion would be of no aid to one suffering from such sorrow. She needed a friend, someone who could relate and listen. He could not be that.

Why pretend?

From the inner fold of his robes he drew a heavy book and let it fall to the bed, its weight indenting the mattress around the edges. It cost him a great deal, though Kish Phomaih had assured him that it would aid in finding a solution pertaining to piggybacking the arcane vein of a teleportation spell. If he were going to find the answers needed to ensure Tiatari Blayne's failure, he had to locate the one person that she couldn't.

L'loris Ondyn.

The Traitor.

He disrobed, relieving the slender muscles that decorated his waxen torso of the heavy wizardly wardrobe, as well as his feet from the soft boots that adorned them. He hung his attire in the closet beside his work desk, his footwear finding the cabinet beneath.

Dressed only in dark breeches he took his place upon his bed, folding his legs in an angular criss-cross, and pulling the thick cover of the book open to the sound of pages peeling apart.

He groaned as he observed the inside cover, as well as the front pages, which were stuck together by some unidentifiable gelatinous material. He started to pull them apart, but after an unavoidable series of tears he surrendered to its infusion and simply moved on.

He had a ton of reading to do, and hopefully the answers he needed were not at the front of the tome.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2010-11-09 22:31 EST


"She's terrible." Blizzard said as he put his face in his hands, a smooth stroke of his cheeks administered as though that could somehow wipe away the frustration. "She's just a terrible teacher."

Ozalynne watched him smear the annoyance across his face and stifled her giggle, a shake of her head sending candy blue tresses whispering across her shoulders. "You should just drop her. That's what I would do."

Blizzard lifted his eyes just enough so that he looked at her over his fingertips, his dubious gaze showing disbelief.

"I would!" She demanded.

"Oz, I know we haven't known each other very long, but the one thing that you've continuously shown me is that you aren't exactly the in your face type, and besides, my focus is abjuration. It probably wouldn't be very smart to ditch the teacher of my school of study."

She was going to protest but really had no argument. She truly wasn't the confrontational type, better left to observe from a distance, and his logic about his focus school and missing class made a ton of sense. So instead she just shrugged. "You need a tutor."

Blizzard blinked, and slowly his hands fell away from his mouth to reveal the forming of a small smile. He wasn't exactly the grins-and-laughter type, so to see such an expression was both rare and fascinating. "A tutor. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Probably because you are at a school of wizards, and because wizards are so competitive and ambitious they hardly ever help one another." She flashed him a cheshire smile. "But some do."

He stood and gathered the things he had spread out over the library table - two books and his wand - and gave her a nod. "Thanks, Ozzie, you've been a ton of help. I'll see you in potions." He turned on a heel and headed out of the massive chamber.

The instructor of abjuration that he fell beneath, Mistress Lilura, just seemed a bit off to him. She explained things with a very rickety description, and on three separate occasions could not come up with a feasible answer as to why certain magical effects were the result of particular situations. All in all, she seemed like she wasn't very confident in her teaching, and hadn't mastered the grasp of her specialty.

At the Dormitory annex he stood before the massive central pillar, and with a little investigating got the name of a number of abjuration students. He browsed the selection, and though he did so quickly there was a great amount of detail to his scour. He wanted a student and not a teacher, that way he could better relate with them. He also wanted a tenured pupil and not some up-and-coming hotshot who only wanted to help Blizzard to prove how much knowledge he or she had.

"Fleur Rousseau." He read the name confidently, speaking in the tone of a made decision. He mapped out her dorm room and headed down the hall after his path had been momentarily obstructed by the immense form of Sartha stalking through the corridor. He waited patiently, watching the blue minotaur without ever making eye contact, and then began again.

He arrived at the room, drew in a steady breath, and knocked upon the door.

Ivinia Delirian

Date: 2010-11-11 09:37 EST
"And then she was like, ClassistimiopACHOOO!" Ivinia's enjoyment was tangible, her laugh rich and darkly amused as she and Xera made their way toward the next class.

"Did you see her face?" Xera couldn't contain a smoky laugh of appreciation.

Their merriment centered around poor Ozalynne's cold. It would seem the young student had awakened feeling under the weather and then in the middle of Ulyssa Mistmark's Spellcraft Class had erupted into a sneezing fit that had made it impossible for her to complete any of the spells required today.

"For a proper conjuration spell to work one must be very specific about what one wishes to conjure, any mistakes..." Ivinia couldn't contain her impersonation of the uptight Mistress of Components and dissolved into choking laughter.

"One wouldn't want to accidentally summon a naked sprite from its bath after all!" Xera quipped and they both doubled over as the memory of Ozalynne's horrified face returned. The sight of the angry, naked little sprite had been a surprise for all of them but as the young male had rounded on the blue-haired novitiate she had become the center of attention. The berating had been spectacular.

A round of sneezes echoed down the hall. A rapidfire succession of them as Ozalynne was accompanied by a concerned Vliss toward the Infirmary.

Sharing a look, Xera and Ivinia launched into another round of laughs.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2010-11-11 10:41 EST
There was two things that could calm the emotions raging in the young man for the moment.

One was the touch of his elven lover. Sure she was older than him, considerably... Neither of them cared about that distinction. He loved her with all he was and even took a liking to her younger sister. The younger sister that was currently with his uncle, Rhyslin.

The other was his beliefs. Growing up around his uncle Lucius' armies and priests, he had learned much of the deity his uncle venerated on the battlefield. When he could spend the free moments, he did so with the priests, soaking up their teachings. He often would ask his uncle questions as he sought to find his path.

His focus was Khorne, though he was sure to pay the others his respects. Even if it was lip service.

He had his room assignment and had brought in the bag with his personal effects. The servitors of his mother would see to the rest, he was just careful of the implements he would need to train here...

Not that he needed the trappings of power. Power he had felt all of his existence surging through his form. There had been comforts and luxuries in his life, being who his parents are.

But he really only wanted the comfort of one and when he couldn't have that...

He turned to the other...

There was a soft hiss of pain as the ritual dagger was brought across his palm. A few drop of blood fell into the chalice before him as he spoke softly, reverently...

"(vq) Blood for the Blood God."

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-11-11 11:27 EST
He drew the tidal length of conflagrant-colored tresses back into a thick tail as he fished through the bag upon the bed. He wasn't looking for anything in particular...in fact, he wasn't really looking for anything at all. He just figured that it was a viable retaliation for Quillyan's initial snooping.

The jingle of keys drew his inquiring eye, and as he lifted the lip of the bag he was startled by the assorted amount floating therein. Fingers swam through the chaos of her disorderly packing, drawing tsks of disapproval amidst his exploration. "With this sort of methodized categorizing she'll be trapped on Minauros in a week's time." He considered assisting with her organizational skills - or lack thereof - but realized it would be hard to deny that he had gone through her things if she found them neatly coordinated upon her return.

He vowed at that moment to show her the benefits of a prestidigitation spell.

Albion nearly abandoned his investigation, though after recounting the numerous classmates who had gone missing in their first year he remembered a conversation he had with Tiatari Blayne in the cafeteria just a few months prior. After he had told her about the tragic disappearances she had suggested stowing a personal belonging of novice casters so that if they were to disappear there would be a starting point for their discovery.

He glanced down at her bag, and once more rooted through the clog. The keys were too personal. They were mismatched and lacked any rhyme or reason in regards to comparison, which made Albion figure that each and every one held its own little story. Amongst the turmoil there was one constant: The keys. Albion was sure she would know if one went missing.

He nearly recoiled as he came across her lingerie, dousing the fires of primordial interest with an ashamed shade of lechery. He allowed his eyes to linger for but a moment, a glance, before bypassing the garments out of ethical demand. He needed something intimate, and yet something that she wouldn't readily miss.

He saw the submerged hair pin peeking up from beneath a lacey nightgown and plentiful key ring, and with the tip of his narrow wand drew the item from its horde.

That would do nicely.

He shoved any escaped articles back into the bag and clasped it shut. Rising from the bed, he gathered up Ivinia's book and started for the door, tucking the hair piece away in his pocket. There was a small bit of comfort in his thievery, now confident that if Quillyan did teleport herself to Thanatos or the elemental plane of water, he could at least attempt to rescue her.

After all, he hated breaking in new roommates.

Xera

Date: 2010-11-12 12:33 EST
{Esteban}

While some students shared a very basic dorm room with two beds and little amenities, others came from a more (how-should-we-say) "economically advanced" background.

Those student's rooms reflected this moneyed advantage in space and format. (For example: Tiatari, Angelica, and Mercedes maintain the largest set of suites with an adjoining living room, kitchen,diningroom, etc.)

While Xera was not necessarily particular about such things she had originally lucked out in her placement of rooms with Vliss. Their combined status had earned them a fairly nice suite near the West Wing and the Gardens of Shah. Two large bedrooms were separated by a living room and a private kitchenette.

Vliss' penchant for entertaining large parties of friends and associates had always irritated Xera and while she would never have wished death upon the incredibly friendly young woman, there was some relief to having her nice quiet orderly way reign supreme.

News of her pending roommate had not been met with much happiness.

She patted a pillow into its rightful place upon the divan and carefully straightened all the alphabetized books on the shelves to perfect alignment. Turning to frown thoughtfully at the disorderly placement of the tongs by the fireplace. That simply would not do. She carefully set the tongs upon their hook and gently nudged a framed picture of her family into perfect relation upon the mantle.

Yes, she'd certainly want to show her new roommate how orderly their quarters were. Smiling, the petite red-head gathered her items for class (kept carefully organized in their place on the shelf near the doorway) and slipped into her shoes that awaited her on the mat set to the side for them.

On her way out she turned to look at the perfectly clean orderliness of the suite and gave one last thought to how her new roommate would surely appreciate it.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2010-11-12 15:21 EST
Finally, something besides a hotel room. Qu? un agujero, that Inn. Oh, the downstairs bar, it's nice. . .but the amenities, mucho menos de cuatro estrellas. However, he was rather pleased with himself, showing the forethought to have his late-night purchases delivered here, rather than go through all that trouble to carry them himself.

It only took about five of the no-brains-all-muscle hired hands to get everything in one trip. So, with them in tow, and after a wonderfully pleasant episode for directions, he gave the door a knock. When no one answered, he whistled a quiet little tune, and peered inside.

"?Hola? ?Hay alguien en casa?" No answer. "Perfecto. Alright, mi amigos, right in here." A rampaging herd of elephants might've made a little less noise. Maybe.

Soon enough, the unoccupied bedroom had the appearance of almohadilla de licenciatura ideal. A positively huge bed, covered in ebony velvet and crimson satin. More ebony-stained mahogany trimmed in silver for the bureau, the nightstands, the desk. Lamps of ivory, for a soft, warm light. A bean-bag of epic proportions for all those lounging needs.

Oh, and yes, the music. Rack upon rack of CD's, a whirring server chock full of MP3's (among other types), all styles and genres.

And playing at nearly all times. He just had to have his music. Muy importante, his music. Besides, Poquito got depressed without hearing something soothing throughout the day.

After dismissing the crew, he took in the living room, and kicked his feet up on the divan, contemplating the rest of his last free day before class.

Dark Princess

Date: 2010-11-12 17:04 EST
Mercedes kept to herself. She dislike the uniforms so much. She only wear them when she was in her classes. She didn?t want to displeased her father. She already got one letter telling her to improve more this year. She was moving through the halls, her blue eyes looks to Esteban, She gave him a sweet shy smile, holding the books tightly against her chest as she hurries toward Library. In her years already. She keep away from the male students and have a healthy competition toward Tia and Angel.

She spread out of her book. The second year classes harder than the first years, but Cedes welcome the challenge, she studies almost all the time, even with out her classes. She slips her glasses on, she studies her favorite subjects., chewing on the pencil. She heard the call of her crow, who perched himself next to the chair beside. ?There?s a lot of students, Trig.? she pet the black feathers. ?I need to work harder to be the best.?

The bird turned the its head to look at his owner. ?I wonder what you are thinking, Boy,? she smiles at the bird. She is relaxed. And looks around the quiet Library.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-11-14 11:30 EST
NEW ARRIVAL - Zhennavieve LaCroix, Mistress of Illusion

"Stop! Thief!"

The elegantly dressed woman pointed a gloved finger in the direction of the startled young urchin. Immediately a crowd of good citizens snatched up the dirty and bedraggled young boy despite his protests, "Och! I was never near the lady! Honest! Bugger off! Already! Let ye go o' me! I didn' do nuthin!"

From her stance near the carriage she smiled delicately beneath the brim of her veiled hat, the picture of purity.

"If ye didn't do nuthin lad, then what's this?" The man's voice was booming as he withdrew from the pocket of the young would-be thief the lady's monogrammed kerchief.

"We ought to beat em for his insolence!" Hollered one large brute of a man.

"No. That won't be necessary." She demurred as they brought the stunned youth forward, 'Please, just put him in my carriage and let me speak with him."

"Ye think that's safe milady." Protested a bespectacled man who had assisted in the miniature riot.

"Oh yes, he won't hurt me." She assured prettily, "And I have my manservant should I need assistance." Nodding to the driver, a dour fellow who looked as if he were perfectly capable of knocking a few heads together.

Bundled inside the startled orphan could only stare at the vision who settled across from him, all demure skirts and fluttering fabrics.

As the carriage lurched forward he sat in sullen silence. She made no motion to start a conversation. Indeed, she simply sat and looked out her window as they traveled. After an awkward passage of time in which nothing was said he had worked himself up into an indignance that allowed him to explain, "Look Miss, I didn' touch yer stuff, honest. I ain't got no idea how it got there."

She turned to face in the darkening twilight of their intimate passage,"Well I do." Her musical voice replied.

"Ye do?" He frowned into the growing darkness as the carriage rocked its way toward the edge of town.

With a wave of her gloved hand her kerchief moved between them to alight upon his lap. Wide-eyed he stared at her, "Ye're--yer one of them magicks peoples."

"Yes." Softly. Her eyes beginning to glow eerily in the gloom.

"But...but if ye put it there.." He looked up slowly, bedazzled by those glowing eyes, "w-why?"

"Because I was hungry." Was her soft reply as her lips pulled back from her elongating fangs.



The driver made no note of the strangled screams that erupted from the carriage. His directions were simple and his enthralled mind carried them out dutifully. He was to deliver the young mistress to the school deep within the Southern Glen. If he noted the large furred beast that ran beside the carriage his entranced mind paid it no heed, even as it lifted its shaggy head and howled in communion with its mistress's feeding.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2010-11-15 00:15 EST
Simple Question, Complex Answer -- Part One




Fleur's class ended on a good note. There was nothing quite as exhilarating as teaching a group of ten students of varying personalities to take what was being said as serious and interesting. Finding the balance of approaches was difficult but something that she strived for. The halls of the school were nearly empty as most students were at lunch. She, herself, carried a small basket that contained a meal she had prepared for herself earlier. Planning on stopping by her room long enough to replace her teaching items and find her cloak, she restrained the nervous shiver that sought to settle about her. This afternoon was her first class in the tower of Barud Das and she was more than a little unnerved at the realization. As she passed one of Sartha's favorite spots she set a small knapsack on the shelf nearest the sconce. Having learned of the minotaur's sweet tooth early in her years at the school she never forgot to share her dessert. As she rounded the corner to her room she paused briefly at the sight of the young man who awaited, assuming he was there for Brais, she softly explained, "He's at lunch. I just saw him in the cafeteria."

He had almost given up on the attempt when he heard her voice. He turned sharply, the razored bangs of his disorderly hair slashing across his lavender eyes with the quick motion, though easily settling for him to get a look at her. There was confusion in his gaze as he said nothing at first, a random blinks here and there, but finally glanced down at the book in his hands. "Um, actually I don't think who I am looking for is a he." He said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Not with a name like Fleur." He wasn't nervous, but anxious. He hadn't spoken to many people around the Institute outside of his roommate, Oz, which was fine by him. He wasn't exactly a talker, which made situations like the one he currently found himself in awkward. Very awkward. "You don't by chance know a Fleur, do you?"

Her expression remained serene, her soft blue eyes unbothered by both his presence and his reaction; yet, her lips, her lips told a different story altogether. The berry plumpness of her lower lip pouting at the interruption to her lunch schedule, the delicate and perfectly arched tiers of her upper lip lifting to form a soft inviting little O at his continued explanation, and finally pulling upward in a rare flicker of a smile that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. A fleeting promise.

Gliding past him, Fleur ran her hand over the door knob and spoke but a single word, unintelligible for some reason no matter the language comprehension of those who overheard it. A vibrating (Whomp) sound echoed as a blue light rippled across the surface, distorting the image of her door for a split second before the entire thing simply disappeared. Stepping inside she remained in sight as she sat down her stack of books, gathered up her cloak and turned to face him, "I'm Fleur. What can I help you with...?" The question of his name evident if unspoken.

Blizzard watched her work her spell and enter the room with a measure of security that his dorm lacked. Maybe he'd have to talk to Oz about that because, quite frankly, he was impressed. With her comfort inside the room he started putting the puzzle together, which was capped off and confirmed by her announcement of her name. He nodded, he should have known. "Blizzard." He replied, and awaited the customary pause that most people gave him after hearing his name, preparing his usual response to what assuredly would be the next question: No, I'm not joking. "I'm sorry to bother you during your lunch, I can come back later if you would like." He noticed the bag and figured what it was, though as she grabbed her cloak it gave him pause. Apparently she didn't like to eat in her own living quarters.

"You can join me and we can discuss your...predicament." Her tone was slightly chilled. A clear indicator that she was not interested in becoming 'friends.' If she seemed fazed by his unique name she gave no indicator, instead stepping back out into the hall and replacing the wards on her room with a negligent wave of her hand. "I plan on eating in the NorthWard Courtyard. Do you have something to eat or will you need to meet me there?"

He blinked at her coldness, though was not surprised. Many of the wizards who attended the school were dispassionate in regards to other students, which, he was told, was a residual effect of the competitive nature of spell casters. Either way it didn't really bother him. "I'm not all that hungry. I can just walk with you." He glanced down the hall that he presumed lead to the North Ward Courtyard. He had heard of the place a few times though had never actually been there. "I ate earlier." He wasn't sure why he felt the urge to explain, he just did.

Frustration was searing. In fact, it was at a flash point of resentment. Fleur had just had a perfectly good class and was feeling good and wasn't in the mood for what was inevitably about to occur. Her movements remained distant and cool as they progressed quickly through the halls. It took considerable restraint to refrain from dishing out the emotions that roiled beneath her calm surface but she preferred privacy, as much out of a realization that a public audience would be detrimental to both their reputations as to her inability to be emotionally distraught after one of these occurrences. Once through the doors that led outside into the gardened courtyard she could contain it no longer. Whirling about, raspberry lips vibrant as she lashed out, "Look, I don't know what you've heard. I don't care. I don't want to know. But I think it's absolutely abhorrent that you would even think for a second that I would waste my time with such a... hobby." Her breath came in a near heaving surge of rapidness, anger radiating from her and giving her peaches and cream complexion a healthy glow, "I'm not interested in 'tutoring' you." She resisted the urge to put air quotes with her fingers around the word but her tone was clear.

Blizzard turned and followed her through the corridors of the Institute, staying just behind her right shoulder. He had no problems letting her lead, in fact, he preferred it. If he was going to ask her a favor, he at least wanted to give the impression that he would be an attentive student who didn't have to be at the front of the line. He noticed the odd looks a passing student here and there gave him, though only responded with an arched eye brow and a simple shoulder shrug. As they entered into the courtyard he nearly collided with her as she turned and unleashed her vehemence upon him. He followed her accusation, followed her assumption, the best he could, though the more she spoke the more fiery the confusion became in his lavender eyes. When she was done he considered just turning around and walking away, though to be honest, he had done so much work in tracking her down, he felt as though to abandon his attempt so early would just prove his own internal weakness. Instead, he tilted his head. "How did you know I wanted you to tutor me?" It was a little perplexing. Perhaps she was a psychic? "Was it the book, or the desperation in my eyes?"

Oh, he was goodlooking alright. A hot young student intent on...book?

Her gaze slid from the confusion in his eyes, to the book in his hands and back up again. The intense blaze of anger was now replaced by a general confusion and then a flush to her cheeks as she considered his reaction. Again it was that expressive mouth that gave her away, the luscious lips receiving the slip of her tongue in a nervous gesture that left them glistening and potently encouraging. "I..." She had to pause to get her thoughts realigned, "I..apologize." Could she find a way to continue without an explanation? No. She'd left herself a limited trajectory. Taking a deep breath that lifted her breast, she let her lashes drift shut for a second of mental recovery, her skin now flushed with the heat of humiliation.

"Don't bother." He said dryly. His features settled on an expression that could only be called disinterested, with lips tight and eyes slightly narrowed. Knuckles began to shade white as he gripped the book, though as her gaze descended, the tome dropped to his side, losing all of its importance. "I get it." He said as he shook his head and glanced to some distant place before slowly turning on a heel. "Sorry for bothering you. I'll see myself...wherever." Yea, he probably should have paid a bit more attention to how they got out into the gardens. He paused just beyond the threshold and glanced to the left and then the right. Damn it. All the halls looked the same.

"I thought you were trying to #$%^&* me."

That...made him stop.

It was, as far as statements go, rather bold, if quiet.

Fleur stood, a vision really, of soft ethereal beauty, back-dropped by the gardens and offered him what she thought was a firm look, but the sad tilt of those raspberry lips said otherwise.

"What?" He snapped as he turned around, the volume a bit too potent. He glanced around quickly, forcing out a chuckle to those passing students to stared at him, and stepped back toward her, quickly closing the distance between the two to carry on a more private conversation. He got caught up for a moment on the sweep of those pretty lips, but quickly blinked and shook away the hypnotism. "Are you kidding me? Why would you think that? That doesn't even make any sense! I don't even know you!"

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2010-11-15 00:18 EST
Simple Question, Complex Answer - Part Two

It was refreshing really - his innocent proclamation - and she softened slightly, turning to lay out her cloak upon the ground, more for something to do; a productive barrier between the social awkwardness of the moment. She settled upon its spread length and gently motioned for him to join her, her attention focused on the basket and its contents as a way to diffuse the tension. "And I don't even know you. Which is why my jumping to conclusions, despite the history, was wrong." She offered him his own smile to keep, "I -am- sorry. I should not have assumed... that you were like the others."

Blizzard he watched her as she began the process of continuing on with her picnic, still a bit awestruck by her bold statement. Even as she beckoned him to join her he just stood there and stared at her, occasionally shifting his gaze to the spot she motioned to, but for the most part he just watched her. He found himself comparing her to the other girls he had seen at the school, contrasting her beauty to all of theirs, and felt a bit vulgar considering her previous assumption. Again he shook his head, a habitual reaction to conflicting thoughts and situations. "What do you mean like the others? Are there a lot of students who want you to be their...tutor?" He had yet to sit.

"Yes." Simply and without explanation. She had what looked like trail mix, though the berries and nuts looked oddly appealing and were wrapped in a leaf. Carefully she set out a plate for him as if not aware that he had yet to join her. "Is it abjuration that you're looking for assistance in?"

He parted his lips to answer her question, but quickly snapped them shut. The desire to be assisted in his spell craft had suddenly taken the backseat to finding out why she was in such great demand. His father had always told him that where there was smoke, there was fire, and he was an avid believer in it. "Why?" He asked as he finally lowered down to sit beside her, watching as she organized the setting momentarily before looking back up into her eyes. "Why is it that when students come to you and ask you to be their tutor you instantly think they want to...that...to you?"

Oh he was a persistent one. Want to bet he'd make a great student? Tenacity did tend to pay off after all. Fleur paused in the act of opening the canteen for a drink. A flicker of annoyance was obvious in the scrape of teeth across the plump juicy lip. A sigh. And quite boldly she met his gaze, "Because I have a reputation for ..." She didn't stutter, or shy away, she simply wasn't sure what word best fit here as her reputation had morphed and altered in so many ways over the years, "It is rumored that I am open to such things."

"Are you?" Flatly.

That pissed her off. It was evident in the thinning of her lips as they pursed in a dominatrix scowl; her beautiful features highlighted by such an expression rarely worn, "No." Just as flatly.

"Good." He said as he tossed the book across the span of her setting so that it landed near the far corner of her cloak. He scooped up a small handful of nuts and popped a few in his mouth, chewing as he continued. "Because the last thing I need is for you to be in the middle of explaining how a Reverse Arrows spell works then and suddenly become distracted because you want me to throw you down and have my way with you." He shot her wink and a whiplash grin before his handsome visage reverted into a look far more pleading. "That is, if you'll help me out."

She couldn't keep up. The amount of twists and turns in this emotional runway had exceeded her ability to remain stoic. She blinked. Her chin dropped, plump lips rounding in startlement. Eyes equally round. And then she laughed. And once she started, she couldn't' stop. And the giggles were the single most unseemly thing she'd done in what seemed months.

The sound of her giggles drew a smile wide across his face. He liked the sound of them, very musical. Very genuine. He could tell that she didn't laugh much, but when she did it was because she found something funny...really funny. He laughed. It was soft and nowhere near as real, but he didn't want to be out of place. "I'll assume that you're laughing because it is obvious that you will take on the role of being my tutor, and not because you find the entire notion utterly absurd."

Relaxed for the first time in ages, her features were honeyed sweetness, the pretty pink flush to her cheeks radiant and her smile precious. It was rare to see the white flash of her teeth behind her lips, but for him, much like a time when she laughed for another, she gave him everything. The luminescent quality hard to resist as she fairly beamed at him. Reaching out a hand she encouraged, "Let's start over. I'm Fleur. Fleur Rousseau, Abjurist and your new tutor, though only spellcraft arts and not the bedchamber." To joke about what had always been a touchy issue was something incredibly new. So rare and strange to be unguarded and open.

He chuckled as he took her hand and shook it, calloused fingers and palm engulfing her smooth skin. "Blizzard, Blizzard Vaughn. Novitiate at the Institute of Arcane Principle and the one student who isn't #$%^&* you." He could barely manage to get it all out without laughing, and again he shook his head. He hadn't been sure about her at first, but at that point was pretty certain that he had just found his favorite person in the entire school. "I really don't want to weigh you down. Are you sure it's not a problem?"

"Before I simply say, of course not, why don't you tell me exactly what it is that you're asking for?" Her laughter still shading her words as she handed him the canteen. The nuts by the way, were incredibly flavorful. The rich potent taste both foreign and appetizing. The sweet berries were not familiar ones to most people and even the leaf they were wrapped in had a strangely sweet flavor.

Parched by some of the saltier nuts, he was glad for the canteen. He unscrewed the lid and tilted it back to claim a few swallows, the corded column of his throat sent jumping up and down as it worked. He pulled the decanter away and sighed, showing her another smile, this a more sated one. "Thank you. Um, well, where to begin? Well, I've really only dabbled with magic and have never been formally taught so I'm a bit out of the loop on the more commonly known things. Like somatic. I don't even know what that means, but it is used so frequently that I'm starting to think that I should. Like maybe it's just one of those basic things that I was never really taught about." He paused and handed her back the canteen before adding. "You're a sorceress, so I'll assume you've got a pretty good grasp on all of this. I could use a few pointers."

She laughed again. So at ease with him that there was no need to keep it reined in, "Yes, you're definitely in over your head. What school are you leaning toward?" Reclaiming the canteen and bringing it to her mobile mouth, fantastical lips sliding upon the surface his had just vacated as she too took a drink. The trail mix he ate filled him up with a fascinating quickness and also brought with it a surge of energy, both physical and mental. He'd feel rejuvenated, alert, but not in a speed-y kind of way.

He cut his response off as he glanced to the mix. In his first class he gone over a series of spells wizards used that gifted them with complete fullness even with just a few bites of a morsel. Apparently the food that she offered him had these same qualities. He leaned back on his hands and tilted his head up to be washed by the warmth and light of the sun, the lean causing his jagged bangs to fall away from his face to uncovered the cloaked eyes beneath. "Abjuration. I guess it's my calling, or something. I'm fairly good at those spells and not very good at the other ones...what are they? Evocation? Anyway, when I got here they told me that I scored high on the Abjurer test and should probably look down that road. So..." He flashed her a smile as he continued to 'look' up into the sun. "...here I am."

"Abjuration is my specialty." She smiled, "As I'm sure you already know." She studied him openly now, he was actually quite good looking and his easygoing personality was evident in his relaxed carriage. Normally she did not allow herself to notice such things, "And I try to help the abjurist students without being asked actually," A light teasing to her tone as she revealed the possibility of gaining her tutorship without this awkward event. Of course, the reason she tried to intervene and assist abjuration students brought a dark little moue to her lips as she thought of the Mistress of Abjuration briefly.

He turned his head to the side and peaked through one eye to view her. "So you're telling me that I probably didn't have to go through with all of this to get your help. All I needed to do was struggle in the class -which I was doing anyway- and you would have come around to help me?" He laughed. "I should have known. Figures. But then again, if I had done that, there would have been no way you would have invited me to lunch, right? Like you said...you don't do that sort of thing." He returned to looking up at sun with closed eyes and reveling in the warmth of its light.
"The good news is that I'm a quick learner, or at least that's what I've been told....or, well..maybe that's what I've always wanted to be told. I can't remember, but I should be able to pick it up pretty quickly."

Damien Tanner

Date: 2010-11-20 19:48 EST
The Morning After...

There was a feral look to the young half-demon the next morning. Their rooms were a mess and he had gotten no sleep at all the night prior. Bad enough he had not bee told of this party...

... but to be rejected in favor of Alcohol was more than he could really tolerate. Plus the little dig on his sister was not forgotten either. She may have taken care of it handily, he was not one to forget easily.

He was less than sympathetic if she was still sleeping. He was not having first year novices pawing through his things. He summoned several Quasits and set them to cleaning the rooms.

He was tempted to lock down the wards after last night's humiliation. What did he see in that girl? She wanted to hide in her booze, well he wouldn't stop her.

He swore in daemon speak and made his way to his first classes. He was teaching this morning and woe to the little joker that got on his bad side.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2010-11-20 19:59 EST
The other Twin...

Angel was already in weapons training in the morning. Both twins were used to getting up early and being earnest in their studies.

Last night has not been fun for her either and she felt Damien's anger as well. She focused her anger into her attacks. She didn't even get a chance to be with Zabdiel, which was the frosting on the cake.

She was not popular. She had few trusted friends. The party last night brought that home to her.

The anger sharpened her skills to a fine point.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-11-20 21:36 EST
((Morning after Vliss's party))

The early morning?s golden light was met not with the peace of solitary waking; instead, Albion beholds his much-enamored roommate, kneeling with dainty legs tucked beside. Pale pink lips press together in cheerful contemplation, eyes somewhat shaded by the incline of her chin.

Quillyan leans over him, scarlet tresses mixing with his of similar shade -- her fingers run through once, arranging the tumultuous waves ?round her delightful visage.

?Albion?? whispers she, the low voice tarnished by a touch of rasp.

?Albion?? repeats the sleepy inquiry, rousing him from blissful slumber. ?Wake up, lover-boy. The orphans await.?

The touch of fingertips upon his forehead is a sensation of detached affection -- they trail along the sculptural plane of his cheek, rousing him to consciousness. The silken caress lingers upon the softness of his bottom lip; weighing no more than a feather, as her slender form merrily exploits his drowsiness.

?C?mon, Albion,? she murmurs, her voice purring into the sensitive curve of his bare neck. ?It?ll be like going home.?

She lifts herself, clumsily settling her sleek body above his, happy to share in the warmth of his bed, a mischievous smile leering down with an insensitive provocation: ?You?re an orphan, right? This is your territory. Let?s get going, friend.? Each word carries the coyness of the previous night?s suggestion, but her tones remain candidly voracious: ?I?m sure there are plenty of poor child-souls to be perused.?

?So get up! I?m not going back alone.?

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2010-11-21 07:59 EST
Lavender eyes pried open, the insurgence of daylight making the menial task stringent. It hadn't been that bright when he went to sleep.

He sat up quickly, simple sheets pouring down his naked torso, lips parting in a startled gasp as realization settled in. For the past two weeks he had woken up at the same time every morning as to not be late for Depha Roksana Vadten's Divination class, and immediately he could tell by the brightness of the illuminating sunlight that he was well beyond the required timeframe.

He was late.

A soft feminine murmur combined with the sensual slide of supple limbs drew his surprised gaze, revealing the form of his roommate, Ozalynne, sprawled across his bed beside him. Blizzard's hasty ascension had not only pulled the covers away to unveil his naked form, but hers as well.

Memories of the previous night's events came flooding back.

He fell backwards, head landing heavily upon his pillows, eyes cast upward to search the featureless ceiling. Only one word came to mind, and it described the situation perfectly.

"F***."

Ivinia Delirian

Date: 2010-11-22 13:08 EST


"Fun, fun." She purred to herself as she waved one last time to the other partygoers. It wasn't like her to leave a party early especially one that had such delightful elements as the stunning new redhead or the gorgeous new crooner. What a party the three of them could've had. But, Ivinia actually had a deadline she was worried about.

As she traipsed through the hallways she deliberately attempted to encounter Sartha. Her luck didn't hold, however, and she was disappointed that the delicious spiral of fear that he induced was not going to be a wet ride for tonight's pleasure.

Opening the door her rooms she was surprised to find Mystri gone. She hadn't seen her at the party. Of course that meant nothing as her roommate was very good at being everywhere while seemingly being nowhere.

She paid it no more mind as she set about packing for her upcoming trip. A certain professor was planning on taking her with him on his latest excursion. She practically purred aloud at the thought of the weekend to come.

The pile of homework on her desk was given but a passing glance. Maybe she could get Albion to do it for her with the right amount of coaxing...

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-11-23 11:09 EST
He had ensured that the two of them made it back to the dorm safely and assisted Quilly in getting to bed. He made it a point to keep from indulging in the suggestive nature brought on by intoxicated compulsion, and continuously refused the creeping logic that tried to infest his mind ...

No, Albion, she would not be more comfortable naked.

Once she was tucked away within her bed he followed suit, taking a moment to strip away his wizardly attire in exchange for a more relaxed outfit; loosely fitted breeches and a simple shirt clasped closed at the front with golden, square shaped, buttons.

************************************************** ***********

As the soft touch of her hair whispered down across his face he smiled. Still entrenched within slumber, Albion?s slender body lightly stretched beneath her, allowing for a ghostly touch to aimlessly brush across her legs. His head lolled with every hum of her raspy voice, as though the sound of it were leading him back toward lucidity.

The touch to his brow caused his chin to incline - as if somehow that would deepen her feathery caress - though, as her fingers dipped to grace his lips, his fervor distilled into torpidity; languidly inert in blissful revelry.

Eyes began to bloom from behind the shelter of lids, but it was the brush of her mouth across the side of his neck that drew a soft moan past parched lips, startled arousal striking him alert.

He came up quickly onto his elbows as the haze of sudden surprise was greeted with a near frantic awakening; the simple motion nearly causing their heads to collide. With his cheek practically touching hers, the closeness of lips tormenting, he scoured the room to gain his bearings.
?What?s ...where are we going??

He turned, nearly kissing her - kissing her like he had at the party just hours ago - though before such affection could be enjoyed he dropped down onto his shoulders to instead look up at her. "The orphanage? Hmmm, I already had plans to..." He paused, tilting his head as he observed her mischievous eyes. He could tell that she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Alright. The Orphanage it is." He said with a smirk before pointedly adding. "Friend."

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2010-11-23 14:12 EST


Strained Hos(tility)pitality -- Part One

Uziya opened the door to he and Oz's room and nearly fell in, exhausted from 'making up' with Tiatari for most of the night. He stumbled forward and let the door close behind him, the bag he carried on his shoulder hitting the floor with little ceremony or concern. "Ozzy?" He asked as he wiped at his eyes, glancing toward the bathroom. "You here?"

Ozalynne sat straight up from a puddle of blankets, she was a small figure in the middle of her bed. Candy blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying. One tiny little fist pressed against her mouth to stifle her sobs as she sat up at his arrival, a small smidgeon of hope blossoming and just as quickly extinguishing. Miserably she nodded her assent to his question before launching herself from the tangle of sheets to stumble toward him and the obvious hug he might be offering.

All it took was a look and he knew the problem. "Who was it?" He asked, a snarl lacing his words as his arms wrapped around her and drew her into a hug. "Just give me a name." He whispered upon her temple, kissing it gently. "Tell me who did this to you."

His protective big-brother routine only sent her into a spout of tears. She wasn't at the point in her reaction where words were really something she was able to muster but she tried, "I did. It was all me. I totally pushed it." Sniffling remorsefully she shook her head, "and when I woke up he w--waas just Gonnnneeeeeeee." Wailed.

He kept his arms around her, knowing that she needed strength and support. "That's because men are worthless bastards who only want one thing and then disappear when its gone." He had told her that from day one, and she had always thought he was kidding. He hadn't been. He lead her back to her bed and then tenderly attempted to lay her back down. "You need to sleep."

Oz could only sniffle more. He'd been so right and she was such a fool. Tears streaked her pale features as she dutifully curled back into the sheets, shoulders still shaking from her sobs. "i..i'm such a fool."

He tucked her feet in and drew the blankets up around her shoulders, taking a seat beside her to gently run his hand through her hair. "Sleep. When you wake up we'll get you showered and dressed." He didn't really have any answers for her. There really weren't any. "Me and Tia have some work to do tonight but when we are done we'll come and get you and you can have dinner with us, yea? You don't need to be alone."

"Thank you Ziya." She said softly, turning her eyes away from him to stare at the door. Her wild hope -that he'd just gone to get them breakfast- dwindling with each passing minute.

Uziya stroked her brow, brushed his fingers along the temple to tuck her blue hair behind her ears. He was trying to coax her back to sleep, hoping that his attempt would be aided by the tears she had cried. Ozzy was his little one and he'd grown quite fond of her. Seeing her in that much pain was trouble to witness. "Shhhh. Sleep."

He was right to assume that she'd cry herself back to sleep given half the chance. She'd expended a good deal of energy last night and this morning; running the riot of emotions. If she had any idea that the man who was causing her such grief was currently breakfasting with his third womanly companion of the morning (not counting her as he'd left her bed without so much as a thought to food) she might've been completely devastated. As it were, she was unconscious in a matter of minutes.

He waited until she was well asleep before rising up and heading for his things. The room was an interior one so there was no outside light source, which meant all he had to do was douse the candles to bathe the room in lightlessness. He did so, leaving her in the solace of darkness, and took his place in a chair across the room to begin reading through his required books, vision unimpaired thanks to a dark sight spell.

There was a light knock upon Uziya's door only seconds after he had set the quiet scene for his distraught roommate.

He stiffened at the knock, instantly out of his seat and on the move with a glance to where Ozzy lay. He didn't want her waking up. He pulled the door open and stepped through, drawing it closed behind him to keep as little light as possible from entering...which put him extremely close to the feminine form of the knocker. "Vliss." He whispered. "What are you doing here?"

She'd dressed carefully for this meeting. The gold sheath wrapped toga style about her willowy frame. Her hair piled atop her head and arranged elegantly, exhibiting the fine upsweep of her delicate ears that had once known the touch of his hot and eager mouth. Her expression was sincere, sweetly so even, "Ziya, I'm so glad I caught you. I..." She turned her mouth downward and made sure to look repentant even as she breathed in his unexpected nearness, "I heard I behaved quite badly toward you and your girlfirend last night. I came by to say I was sorry."

Uziya swallowed back the surge of blood that such nearness elicited. She had once been his lover...but more than that, had once been his love, right up until she died. He had moved on, thinking that she was no more, and was still internally shaken that she had returned. That intimate proximity was a nostalgic reminder of what once was. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to taking hold of her hips, like he used to. He even stepped back, just an inch of movement, that pressed him tightly against the door. It was her mention of his girlfriend that brought a sense of clarity back to him, though he still had to avert his gaze to keep from staring at her. "Apology accepted." He said, a bit too quickly, as he breathed in her scent. She smelled good. She had always smelled good.

Vliss tilted her head back, a girlish gesture, her smile genuine and uplifting. She wasn't the resident Popular Girl for no reason. Knowing how to present yourself as the finely wrapped package was half of the game after all. The naked sweep of her throat had been deliberately decorated with both his favorite scent on her, and the gold filigree necklace that had a U and a V intertwined, which dangled delicately in the cleft between her breasts. Pleasure was evident as she restrained her excitement at his easy acceptance, "Oh Zi, that's so good to hear. I didn't even realize I was being naughty," Intimacy there in her gaze as she teased, "you know how I am when I'm excited. I just ride the emotion and get all caught up in it." Sugary sweetness before a flicker of awareness revealed itself in her gaze and she leaned in to whisper up at him, "why are we being so quiet?"

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2010-11-23 14:15 EST
Strained Hos(tility)pitality -- Part Two

That's what the smell was. It was the perfume that they had picked out together before last year's Beltane festival. He had told her that it was intoxicating...as intoxicating as she was. The memory was crystal clear, with details that shouldn't have been recalled. He turned his head the other way to avoid her as she leaned in, nearly brushing his lips across her mouth in surely what would have been a disaster had they met. Her words caused his mind to churn with another series of memories; vividly plentiful as their bedroom trysts were extensive and numerous...and rarely confined to the bedroom. He swallowed, and it was as sharp as glass. "Ozzy is inside." He explained. "She's sleeping." He tried to take another step back, but that door was firm and unforgiving.

Vliss couldn't contain a soft intake of breath at the nearness of their lips. Heat smoldering in her golden gaze as she slipped back a step and gave him the distance he obviously desired. She knew how to keep a man wanting and she'd succeeded in awakening in him the memories she'd hoped. It was evident in his body's response to her and her smile was womanly and mysterious as she brought up her gift, "Oh, well we wouldn't want to wake little Ozzy after the way she was carrying on at the party with that new abjuration student. I'm sure her night was restless." Placing the box in his hands she moved onto her next step with the self satisfaction of a woman who was winning, "Here you go."

"Abjuration student?" Uziya's thin brow careened, even as he reached out and took the box she gave him. It was of little consequence, however, as his attention was now focused elsewhere. "Yea, they were awfully close." He said, feigning knowledge of what she spoke. "I've seen that guy before. What's his name again?" He had no idea, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to milk the answer. He took a step with her, anxious to learn who had done that to Ozzy, even if it meant getting in her way to keep her from leaving.

Now this was unexpected. It threw her off her game. He was supposed to be focused on what was in the box not her inadvertent slip into some other unimportant territory. She frowned, glittering golden eyes searching his face for the reason of his sudden interest in who she spoke of, even as she tried to distract him from it, "Ohh," A soft airy little wave as if she couldn't be bothered to remember, "I'm so glad everything is fine between us. It didn't look as if you're new girlfriend was having much fun at the party, though that's really not surprising as she doesn't quite have a reputation for being social." She hinted, hoping to remind him of how they'd been the life of the parties, the Regal Host and Hostess, the King and Queen of Popularity during their reign as boyfriend and girlfriend, "But anyways, "quickly switching the subject to keep him unfocused, "I thought you might want some of that stuff back and as I finish with the rest of it I will send it your way." Motioning to the box now in his hands.

He stepped around her to provide a formidable blockade, his crimson glower leveled upon her beautiful eyes. "What was his name?" He asked again.

The intense inquiry didn't last long, though, once she started to berate Tiatari. To any passerby it probably would have seemed as nothing more than a weak slight, but Uziya knew Vliss well enough to understand that if that is what she was telling him to his face, it was probably ten times as cutting in the private circles and cliques of sycophants who followed Vliss as though she were some sort of chic deity. Tiatari wouldn't care, she didn't let that sort of thing bother her. He, on the other hand, did. "She had a great time. In fact, she was pleased to meet you." He glanced down at the box, knowing how to light her fire. "She said you were very....pretty." With a flick of the thumb he unfastened the hinge and opened the case.

Slapped. Oh my. Vicious that underhanded blow by him. He had quite successfully cut her to the quick and she was thrown into a helpless rage at his response. To be dismissed as 'pretty' by the new girlfriend. She'd rather die. Again. Uziya had once been the perfect boyfriend simply because he was observant enough of these seemingly silly rituals to know exactly what to say or do to get his intended rise. Her back rigid, her chin high, she managed an icy, "Well I'd say tell her thank you but I think it would be wise to keep our communication to a minimum. I wouldn't want to encourage a friendship where I wasn't quite able to manage one." She wanted to gouge his eyes out and stomp Tiatari into a mudsplotch but for now she held her dignity, letting the contents of the box do her bidding...

...inside, sweetly and elegantly wrapped and parceled were mementos of a relationship ended. Their first tickets to a show, the first prize he'd won for her, some jewelry he'd purchased, a journal of musings, a few of his shirts, a pen, oh and that racy set of lingerie he'd bought her that had seen many a night of pleasurable activities.

Uziya didnt' have to look up to know that he had gotten to her; he could feel the fumes coming off her burning soul. He fished through the box, fighting off the smirk that sought to spread his lips at her icy retort, though that was easily done the deeper he delved. The tickets...he loved that show, and the jewelry, some of it was her birthday present throughout the years...except that one - the one with the blood red ruby fastened to the silver hoop - that was the ring that he was going to give her when he asked her to...

He sucked in a sharp breath as he hooked the strap of that lacy little teddy, something he had done a hundred times while removing it from her body. He shut the box with an alarming intensity and let his eyes drift shut. "Thank you." He whispered, the bravado of stealing her thunder diminished to nothing more than a distant and meager victory.

"Of course." She said softly, a tremor in her voice, whether a deliberate ploy or not it was aided by the very real sheen of tears in her golden eyes. "I found myself unable to hold onto it after..well." She took a deep breath as if steeling herself, "Once I can bring myself to finish I'll bring you the rest of your stuff." Deliberately turning away at that moment, only to pause and say shakily, "If you could return my things as well..my favorite boots are still at your place, and my robe appear to be missing." She was damn well aware of where that robe had wound up: a playful flight through the Gardens that had ended explosively... and quite nakedly.

It was a hollow ache. Her tears were his achilles heel, they always had been. Maybe that's why he was so concerned with Oz when he found her crying. Old habits...He nodded to her request even though she had turned away. "Vliss." He said softly, straightening his shoulders and lifting his eyes to stare at the center of her shoulder blades. "I'm...I'm sorry." And he was...they had shared too much for him not to be.

Vliss forced a smile. It was rather difficult and she knew the anguished look she presented, a brave little smile, tears spiking her lashes as she suffered through a sigh, "It's not your fault, Zi. It's not like you could predict I'd come back." And quickly she turned and departed.

He watched her go. He wanted to call for her to come back, though knew it was best for some distance to be put between them. When she was out of sight he turned and made his way back into the room, returning to the seat in the darkness after a quick look to Ozzy's bed. He started to reach for the book, though that quest ended rather quickly with a glance to the box still in his hands. He opened the lid, and there, in the dark and alone, waded through the memories of a former life.

Xera

Date: 2010-11-24 17:04 EST
((Morning After Vliss Party))

"Ugh." Her mouth felt like sandpaper, or better yet like glued sandpaper, no...like sandpaper that had horsehair glued to it.

Why a horse? Well that's a damn good question. But one that would have to wait for the pounding in her head to ease.

She was propped up against the couch in Vliss and Damien's room. Her head at an odd angle. As she pushed upward she noted the arrival of Quasits as they began setting the room to rights. To avoid being part of the cleanup she stepped blearily into the fires and welcomed the burn.

If she wondered for a minute if her drinking was getting a bit out of control the thought was quickly dismissed as the realization of the time set in. She was going to be late getting her first years together for the next round of classes.

Dressed quickly in uniform she used her favorite form of travel (fire) to arrive before the assembled.

****************

Hours later she arrived at the Inn to meet Albion with the words, "I lost a student," clarified by the following statement, "It was an honest mistake. The little troglodyte arrived late and so I didn't realize he was even there. When we teleported to class...well, he didn't make it."

She needed a drink.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-11-26 20:28 EST
Quinnon rarely made it to the parties. While friendly, she was a quiet and introverted soul who preferred peace. It was rather ironic that she was Xera's best friend as they were polar opposites.

After assisting Xera re-discover the lost student (who had teleported into the lake near the Glen by accident), she returned to her room with her usual distracted air.

Unaware that the young novitiate had chased after her to give his thanks for her assistance she opened her dorm room door and stepped out onto the marbled path that led through the center of it. His startled exclamation from the opened doorway brought her head around, "Yes?"

"Your ROOM! It's it's water!"

She blinked and looked about her in some amazement. "Why yes, yes it is." She seemed as surprised by this as he was. After all, she'd only intended to submerge her own bedroom, but with ElKinid gone for so long she must've inadvertantly transformed the rest of the dorm suite without realization. Belatedly she flicked a look to his sealed door. Surely the water hadn't seeped in there?

Beginning in that direction she was brought up short by the young man again, "I uhh just wanted to thank you for your help."

She smiled at his sincerity and moved back in his direction, "Of course, though you should be more careful in the future. The lake is not the safest place to swim."

His eyes wide and still flicking about her room he tried to explain that he wasn't swimming on purpose, he was there by accident. This led to a discussion on proper teleportation techniques and eventually Quinnon was back out the door with her usual befuddled state leading her to forget the condition of her rooms again.

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFlBLYW9zcS01M3hHeHIycGl6NzZROXcAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-12-01 21:15 EST


From the very moment of dismissal, Quillyan hastened (all loose ruby tresses and novice black-and-white) from her evocation class toward the central library, dodging and darting on swift, surprisingly graceful steps between fellow students lingering or drifting through the hallways.

?Excuse me.?

?Pardon me.?

?Excuse me.?

?Hi, please move.?

So artful was her direction that she almost arrived at the magnificent entrance unscathed, but woe, with doors in sight, she slammed fully into Jolie?s frigid form, scattering belongings and landing herself on the floor in a flurry of lengthy, tights-clad legs and inelegant angles.

?Ugh,? was her initial comment, wide azure eyes blinking in momentary astonishment.

?F**king idiot,? the vampire hissed, her form instinctually recoiling into a defensive posture.

?Ugh,? Quilly repeated unintentionally, recalling the girl from Smout?n?s class. With the gathering of her composure, she started to collect her disordered materials and rise from the floor. ?Look, I?m sorry Jolie, I didn?t see you.?

?Blind and dumb,? came the psychotic purr as the vampire glowered hungrily at her peer.

?Yeah, I know. Have you seen Albion?? replied the warmer girl with a persistent and troubled set to her elegant brow. One hand thoughtlessly rubbed the sore curve of her shapely backside as her eyes drifted through the mass of students. ?We?re supposed to go to the orphanage today, but I can?t remember where we?re meeting. I think it was here. Or maybe it was our room? The dining hall? I can?t remember.?

In a huff, Jolie turned and stalked away, refusing to dignify her unorganized query with a response. Quilly didn?t bother to repress the expressive roll of her eyes, which managed to elicit a chuckle from a casual onlooker.

She honed her gaze for the red tresses, but found, upon inspection of the migrating crowds, that the school really did have an exorbitant number of red-heads.

?Not my day,? she muttered under her breath as the river of faces flowed along.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-12-02 11:04 EST


"...thus the reason why multiplying component consumption without the required augmentation to somatic performance can result in devastating miscalculations." Albion paused, shifting his gaze to where his classmate sat. "And lethal accidents."

Kish chuckled, a small whip of his head freeing his gaze of the blonde mop dangling in front. "So why doesn't the teacher just explain it like that?"

Albion paused, not really sure how to answer such a question. He wasn't very fond of Lillura's teaching methods - considering them sporadic and uninformative - though he would never voice this opinion to another student. He considered such gossip a betrayal to his belief in the institute as a whole. Instead, he merely shrugged. "A good question. I'm sure Mistress Lillura has a lot going on, as most instructors do with the first few weeks of a new semester. I would recommend seeking out Mistress Ulyssa Mistmark if you have any further questions. She is always helpful."

"I'll remember that." Kish said with a smirk.

Albion began to gather up his belongings, tucking books into his satchel and his wand into his belt. A realization struck him then, and slowly he turned to face the young novitiate. "Why are you even studying spell empowerment? That is a mage level course."

Kish laughed as he unlaced his fingers from behind his head and pulled his feet off the table to stand. "Well, I should probably know a little something about what I'm going to be teaching next semester."

Albion froze. "Te...teaching?" He said the word as though it were the most ludicrous utterance in existence.

Kish nodded, his smile wide.

"And...and who said that you would be teaching spell empowerment...in the second semester...of your novitiate year?" He had to say it with a detailed inflection, as though such reciting would help with his personal clarification and understanding.

Kish started to feel the heat and arched a brow. "Deaconess Shah."

Albion turned away to hide his grimace.

F-ing geniuses.

"Oh look!" Kish said as he turned for the door. "It's the snack cart! Do you want anything?" He didn't wait for an answer though, already heading that way. At least he had the courtesy to look back.

"I thought the snack cart only came through on Tuesday and Thursday." Albion said offhand. He wasn't a huge fan of the desserts but also wasn't afraid every now and then to indulge.

"It does!" Kish replied, adding just as he slipped out the door. "It's Thursday!"

Albion shoved the last tome inside his satchel. "That can't be right." He said, glancing up at the huge grandfather clock that dominated the far wall of the study hall.

As he brought the antique into focus it struck the hour, its mystical gong echoing through the interior of the domed chamber.

The sound was a reminder, an alarm of sorts, that it was in fact Thursday. That is was in fact midday.

That he was, in fact, late.

"Quilly!" He gasped.

Albion slung the satchel over his shoulder and raced for the door.

"Albion!" Kish said, appearing just inside the archway. "They have cream covered cookies!"

"No time!" Albion frantically responded, racing past Kish with such fervor that he smashed his swinging satchel into the small boy's shoulder, jarring the treat he held in his hand loose to fall to the floor.

"Noooooooo!" Kish cried, nearly in slow motion as he watched the icing glossed goodness splatter against the smooth marble underfoot.

"You owe me!" Kish hollered after the swaying mane of striking red hair that weaved through the crowd current. "You owe me big!"

If Albion heard him he paid no heed, his attention centered around one thing.

Getting to the library.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-02 11:22 EST
"It's beautiful." Fleur said as she drew the amethyst rose up to eye level and examined the fine craftsmanship. "I'll keep it close."

The words stung Brais' brain, infecting his memory so that he could hear her sweet voice over and over again, a sensual refrain that churned power in his soul.

"...I'll keep it close."

Before the mirror that hung on the inside of his wardrobe door he began to undress, though his focus was not on the pale lines of masculine flesh that were revealed with every article shunned, but the fist-sized sphere residing on the stand just beside his bed.

It was the flower's partner. If the amethyst rose were the eyes, the orb was the conduit they saw through.

He hung his Mage attire upon its designated hanger along with his cloak and tunic. Boots were placed in the shelf below. The breeches remained, dark and loose, the normal apparel he wore to bed, and with a turn he started for the item that captured his interest.

"...I'll keep it close."

"You have no idea." He whispered as he scooped up the sphere and tossed it between his hands. As he crawled into bed he glanced to the wall that separated them, the intensity of his gaze seemingly potent enough to bypass the partition and see within, though in truth, it revealed nothing.

That is why he needed the orb.

And that is why she needed the rose.

...to keep them close.

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2010-12-02 13:20 EST


Yes. Without question she had to be the most frustrating person he had ever met. She was determined and focused to a fault. A huge fault. One that drove him crazy and made him want to pull out all of his hair. He understood focus and drive, but there had to be something else, there had to be something to break the monotony of constant resolve and discipline.

"So...she's not giving you any?" Myraddin asked from the couch.

"Really? That's all that you got out of that little rant of mine?" Uziya chuckled, seated firmly atop one of the bar stools that lined the kitchenette island of the Numidor's dormitory, which was just another example of how far money could go. "Why am I here again?"

"To vent. But what do you expect? You're dating the Primoridus Disciplatarian."

"Primorus Discipulus."

"Right, her. What do you expect? Of course she's going to be all about the books and the studying. How do you think she got that little title of hers?"

"If we were smart we'd all be trying to get that title from her." Uziya replied as he put his elbow on the kitchen counter and then his chin in his hand. "Maybe that's what I should do. Focus on the work and not so much on the girl."

"Not exactly your strong point." Myraddin grinned. "Just do what you always do. Dump her and find the next one."

"That's not what I always do."

"Really? Should we ask Mystriana? Or maybe Ivinia? How about Vliss and Angelica?"

Uziya brought his head up sharply. "I don't know how that rumor with Angelica got started but it's not true."

"Um, you were seen half-dressed coming out of her room a few nights in a row."

"Her and Tia share the same room, genius."
Myraddin shrugged. "Hey, I didn't start the rumor, I'm just explaining it."

Uziya settle back onto his stool. "And Vliss is...different."

"Ah, the one that got away." Myraddin goaded. "It's a shame, too. You two were..." The flicker in his lilac gaze showed a fond remembrance. "Well, let's be honest. You two were the it couple."

"Ancient history, M." Uziya nearly scolded the storm elf. "And I'm not here to talk about me an Vliss. Or me and anyone, really, unless it's me and Tiatari."

"Fine." Myraddin Numidor pulled himself off of the couch and reached high into the air, stretching his slender form to alleviate some of the stiffness sitting for so long had forged. "My advice is this. You need to tell her what you want. She isn't going to respond the way you want her to if you keep her in the dark. Tell her what you want. Tell her how you feel, and if she can't deal with it then you'll know where you stand."

"And that, ladies and gentlemen," Came a sharply feminine voice from off to the side. "Is why my brother is lonely and married to his hand."

Faetha Numidor appeared at the doorway of her bedroom. Like Tiatari, Angelica, and Mercedes' room, theirs was a main living space with adjoining doors lining the outer wall. While some students strictly had dorm rooms, wealthier students could afford these apartment-esque setups.

"Faetha." Myraddin greeted her coldly. "What are you doing back so soon? Done bleeding the bridge trolls of their earnings."

Faetha peeled back her lips and bared her teeth at her brother, and while they were straight and square, the entire demeanor unveiled a more bestial nature. She crossed the room, dressed only in a novitiate tunic that fell just to the tops of her thighs; a rare sight considering she was an Apprentice class wizard. "If you're smart, pretty boy, you'll ignore everything that Myraddin just told you. Tiatari Blayne has shown that she isn't exactly looking for a knight in shining armor, and while all your other little tarts might have been more than willing to bend and twist themselves however you wanted, she's probably not going to be very receptive to you telling her what you want and expecting her to just follow along."

"I wouldnt..."

"So," Faetha interrupted, rounding the kitchenette in search of a snack. "Instead, why don't you take some advice from a woman who is as equally driven as your girlfriend, just a year behind her."

Uziya glanced at Myraddin who was shaking his head emphatically, though only gave him a smirk before looking back to the female Numidor twin. "By all means, Faetha. I'm all ears."

She snapped a venomous glower at him. "Is that an elf reference?"

He laughed. "No, I mean..." He shook his head, sweeping silky black tresses along his shoulders. "Just go ahead and tell me what I should do."

There was a calm that settled in her gaze, much like the center of a hurricane - threatening and yet at ease. "What you're going to do, Uziya, is nothing. You're not going to say a word. You're not going to give even the slightest hint that there is anything wrong."

"Right." Myraddin said as he threw his hands up. "Just bend to the whim of your bedmate. That's healthy."

Faetha ignored her brother. "In fact, you're going to submerge yourself in whatever task the two of you have been sneaking around doing. All in. Completely. You're going to stop focusing on the fact that you and Tiatari have a relationship outside of your assignment and just get it done. You see, Uziya, you're not used to having your relationships smashed up against your student work. You normally keep your little strumpets over here and your studies over there. The problem with you being with someone like Tiatari is that, with her, the academia never ends. " She leaned down on the opposite side of the counter and looked him directly in the eyes. "The academia is the romance."

"So you think I need to make our relationship more about the spell craft, and that will lead to..." Uziya clipped the last part. He didn't know how to exactly say it and hoped that she knew what he meant.

She did. "Yep. If you want to be her main focus, then you have to become part of it."

Uziya smirked and slid off the stool. "Thanks, Faetha. I'll remember that. I need to get going, though. I'll see you two later." He glanced down to Myraddin's hand and then back up. "You two do make a rather cute couple."

Myraddin lifted the hand and showed him a rather striking attribute it possessed.

A middle finger.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-12-08 19:40 EST
Vliss moved through the halls with a distracted air. It wasn't like her to not personally acknowledge everybody she encountered and many gave her a startled look, some descending into worry at the thought that they may have in some way have offended the Resident Party Hostess.

But her distraction stemmed from something much more important than who she overlooked in her distress. Clutched in her hand she held the newest assignment sheet, refusing to cast another look at it for fear that she might indeed fall apart with witnesses about.

Once within her dorm room she threw a fist against her mouth to stifle the gasping sob that sought freedom. A frantic golden gaze flickering about for evidence of her roommate's presence. Finding none, she sunk slowly to the floor in despair.

Fear ate at her.

The last time she'd journeyed forth on a trip for the school she had not returned with the rest of her classmates. And while she might treat her resurrection with a blithe attitude determined to rebuff the curious, at heart she was petrified at the thought of leaving the safety of the school's confines.

Out there...death could find you.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-15 17:06 EST
She slept like an angel.

Her flawless face, adorned with such beautiful features, wore a mask of serenity as she slumbered, a welcomed change to the constant vigilance that normally marred such exquisite lines of enticement.

Brais handled the globe with a loving affection as he watched Fleur through it, the rose on the other side still firmly fixed near her bedside table. He was well aware of his obsession with her; well aware of the turmoil that it caused inside of him. And yet cared little for the apparent repercussions that such harmful emotions would undoubtedly render; he wanted her, and that was all that mattered.

He glanced to the wall that separated them - how easy it would have been for him to cast a spell, step through, and join her on the other side.

Easy for him, terrifying for her. She was apprehensive about her reputation thanks to the toiling of that bastard Marius Mistmark, which meant that Brais had to tread carefully to keep from scaring her away. He had toed the line several times and while he was confident that he stirred her as hungrily as she did him, he knew that she was concerned with being betrayed again, idle in her desire to experience another onset of pain.

Marius Mistmark. Brais would deal with the Master of Spell Craft after he returned from Gehenna.

He slid from his bed and made his way to the small stand where the orb was housed when not in use. Clad only in the soft cotton of loosely fitted pants, the slim lines of muscle that laced his torso and arms rippled into pleasant motion with each step, veiled only by the slither of snowy white locks that licked across chest and shoulders.

He placed the sphere upon the metal prongs, though let his fingertips linger in an intimate caress of the image housed within. Her image.

"Good night, my angel." He whispered.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-16 20:57 EST
{ The Dormitory of Brais Galician and Fleur Rousseau}

~*8:30pm Wednesday Evening*~

It was unlike Brais Galician to be the one fawning over a woman. In fact, never once in his entire life could he recall doing so, considering those sorts of obsequious measures a sign of weakness that never warranted unveiling. He had watched countless men throw themselves at the feet of women only to be kicked away for a stronger breed of male, and vowed to never lower himself to such worthlessness.

How pathetic they were.

And yet there he was, hovering over the table arrangement of plates and wine glasses as he awaited Fleur's arrival. He had even gone so far as to exchange his mage uniform for the traditional Kimono of the Galician family. It was reserved for only the rarest of occasions, the superlative celebration, and yet Brais donned the regal ensemble anyway.

He had a feeling that this night would be truly impactful.

How quickly he had surrendered to her whim.

Thoughts drifted to a memory formed just hours before, one of he and Fleur locked away within her classroom. He had greeted her with a kiss, an intimate salute that had started infrequently weeks before though had grown more common as time passed. She spoke to him of feelings, of emotions stirring in her soul, and of the fear that accompanied it. Fear of yielding to her desire.

A smile floated across his thin lips as he recalled his response, his vow to endure and triumph over her fear. To stride with her through the years, and to ultimately gift her with his last name.

Fleur Galician.

He had whispered that name many times to the empty air above his bed while watching her through the rose, though never once had he let it pass from his lips to her ears.

Not until that day.

She did not flee. She did not turn and run. No, in fact she embraced him.
The muscles along his back tightened in remembrance of her coiled arms. How he longed to be the recipient of such endearing fondness.

~*2:00 am Thursday Morning*~

He sat calmly. Patience had been his ally through many difficult years of study. Long ago he had expelled the notion of avidity and rashness for the confidence serenity ensured. Passionate, yes, though never did he rush the outcome.

Still, after glancing to the tall grandfather clock nested into the far corner and seeing what time it was, Brais began to feel the trickling chill of worry. It was not like her to be out and about at such a time. If anything, Fleur had proven to be a homebody - one who enjoyed the confines of her dwelling more than the nightlife lingering beyond its door. He did not fear that she was injured or in peril, for they were connected, and he was certain that if she was in such dire straits she would have simply reached out for him with her spirit and he would have known. With that notion came the unknown. He didn't know where she was, where she would be, or why she would not have come back to their room. All of these unanswered questions were weighing upon him heavily.

He glanced to the dining arrangement on the table and the large covered pot at its center, giving it only a cursory look before returning his gaze to the clock face.

"Where are you?" He whispered.

~*6:00am Thursday Morning*~

He startled awake, jerking out of the confines of the couch cushions to lash a narrowed gaze across the interior of the room. He turned one way and then the other, aggression seeping through his demeanor. It was as though he expected to be attacked.

When clarity assured him that he was alone he brought his hands to his face and wiped the residual slumber away. He glanced through his splayed fingers at the clock.

...and froze.

Was it morning already? Brais turned for her door and marched across the room, every step seeming to harbor even more outrage. He arrived and reached for the knob, a sharp twist and push revealing that it was locked, sealed by magic, as it had been the night before.

Again his eyes narrowed, his hands dropping to his sides and clenching into fists. He knew of a spell that could obliterate the door, and while it might not be the most civilized way to greet her, it would certainly get her attention.

A thought struck him then and he quieted the arcana. The door had been locked the night before, as it was now. Initially he had presumed that she must have come back, retreated to her room, locking the door again while he slept, but what if she had not returned. What if the door was locked the same as it had been the night before, yet to be touched?

He wiped at his face again and glanced to the side, peering through the partially open door of his room and finding the key to revealing this answer.

There, on its customary stand, was the globe.

He snapped around and strode inside, knocking the door open with his shoulder so hard that is slammed into the adjacent wall. He didn't care. He snatched up the globe, nearly taking over the entire table with his careless force, and spoke the magic words that showed him the view offered by the rose.

Her room, as always. He had studied it for many days and nights. He knew every detail. Knew every corner and furnishing. It was all there.

All there but her.

"No!" He snapped; that single word filled with enough power to shake the entire room as it discharged from his lips.

She had never come home.

He roared, hurling the sphere against the far wall and shattering it into a rainfall of shards. His chest labored with heavy palpitation, his glower leveled on some distant memory.

The chime of the clock in the living area stole his cruel focus, resurrecting his attention to the day before him. He had classes to oversee and attend, as well as students to instruct and surpass.

He would deal with this ...with her...later.

Ozalynne

Date: 2010-12-18 16:16 EST
Things had gone smoother once she had confronted Blizzard about their "relationship."

She knew better than to read too much into it even as she found herself on Cloud 9 whenever he was near. Never much for pessimism, Ozalynne focused on the good and ignored the bad.

After all every cloud had its silver lining.

******


"I'm thinkin some OJ with a licorice stick. Maybe with a little of that carbonated white drink."
"Oj, licorice, carbo- wait." Blizzard glanced at her, brow arched. "Carbonated white drink?" He was obviously lost though still managed to grab the jug of orange juice while trying to
figure it out.
"The fizzy stuff that tickles your nose, Cedes is always
drinkin the dark kind that's approved by a Doctor."
"Approved by...You mean Doctor
Pepper?" He looked thoughtful. "The clear kind?" He tapped his foot a few times before glancing up within an inquiring look. "You want a sprite?"
"I am a sprite." Blinked.
He laughed. "No, dollface. The drink."
He began the alchemic formula. One part Orange Juice, one part sprite -no relation to her- stirred with a licorice stick. He even found one of those small umbrellas and put it inside. He turned and faced her up just as she descended to sit on the inside of the tabletop, a step forward and a slight turn prying his hips between her crossed knees, hoping to part her legs and step between them. "Here you go. I call it..."The Blizzard of Oz!!!" He said, his words accompanied by an overly exaggerated and highly theatrical devil-horn hand sign.

(Thank you for the fabulous play Blizz!)
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFnhCQjJWdW9LNEJHU1hzZWN1RjZXVlEAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg

Ozalynne

Date: 2010-12-19 16:09 EST
After the Red Dragon...
(Part One: Summoning Realization)

At the exact time that she was supposed to meet him she was stepping through a Dimension Door. Her novitiate uniform had been 'buffed' by the addition of warm woolen tights in black, and she was bundled in a black heavy cloak, long gloves, three layers, and a knit cap that did very little to conceal the brilliant blue of her hair. Wand readied, she stepped forth into the forest, excitement and nervousness brimming.

There, at the appointed spot, would be a large circle drawn in the earth and bordered with stones of granite. Though it was only a ring carved of dirt, there was a power about it that was easily felt. Magic had been involved in its craftsmanship, of that there was no doubt. Brais stood just a few feet from the ring, his back facing her as he focused on whatever task his hands were busily accomplishing. It appeared as though he did not know she had arrived...up until he spoke. "You are neither late nor early." His tone was low, and yet slightly accusatory.

She rose up on her tiptoes as she opened her mouth to respond eagerly that such an arrival would by default then be perfect but his tone stalled her in her glee. Giddy little hands that are always fluttering about like caged birds, danced in the air and subsided as she sank back down to her small booted feet. Her mouth closed. Opened. And closed yet again before she finally managed a subdued, "Precisely on time." And if the words rose at the end in the form of a question it could no doubt be her continued need for reassurance that she had performed correctly that fueled the lack of declaration.

"Precisely." He retorted. He turned to her and approached with a graceful stride that resembled that of a panther or other impeccable predator. Truly, the intensity that radiated from Brais Galician was potent and heavy. "I've decided that the reason you are unsure of your discipline is because you have yet to be pushed to find out what it is that you can do. So, I've taken it upon myself to begin your training." He narrowed his eyes a bit as he watched her colorful stare. "...as a conjurer."

She blinked at his assertion, cottoncandy blue eyes widening at the thought. She opened her mouth and blurted, "Master Mistmark seems to think I should look into Illusion as my focus." Innocent of all transgressions.

Ozalynne

Date: 2010-12-19 16:13 EST
(Part Two: Summoning Realization)

"Master Mistmark encouraged you to explore a path of deceit and fraud?" He smirked, a simple turn sending the length of his robes fanning out around his ankles. "I can't say that I am surprised. But no, the discipline doesn't suit you. You are naturally creative, as can be seen by your attire and color scheme. You should focus these talents on your spell craft as well. There is no greater power than the ability to conjure something from nothing. To create where nothing exists." He made his way to the circle, coming to a stop just outside of its parameter. He didn't look back at her, yet spoke directly. "You have kept up on your initial studies in my class, have you not? Simple summoning?"

She seemed a little distraught by his comment about Mistmark and was about to follow through with a question when his explanation about her focus drew her attention as a brightly colored distraction. What he said sounded good and it was exhibited by her fluttering hands clasping and unclasping as she rocked up on her toes again, smile turning her lips upward. Before she could exult that his direction sounded perfect she was distracted anew by his question. Nodding vigorously, blue hair a sharp vivid contrast to the blacks and whites of her uniform and the snow encrusted setting. "Yes."

"During our first week we went over summoning a celestial dog. Do you remember this lesson?" Still he had yet to turn and face her, his attention locked upon the ring.

"Yes." Immediately ready to demonstrate.

"Excellent. I want you to conjure one of these creatures inside the ring." A brisk wind caught hold of his snowy hair and sent it streaking back away from his face, displaying the angular features of his profile.

The same wind sent her huddling inside her cloak on a disparaged whimper. It was cold. Miserably so and she was doing her best not to whine about it but the way he seemed so impervious was fascinatingly unnerving. Even with her gestures a little frigid and her teeth trying to chatter, summoning came extremely natural to her and within a few seconds she had complied. A large celestial dog readied and waiting inside the ring.

"Acute somatic display with keen arcane dialect. Well done." Rarely did he applaud the casting of other wizards, and though his tone was flat and as cold as the wind that assaulted her, his words were none the less complimentary. "Now, summon another one on the outside of the ring. Not celestial. Just a simple wolf."

Ironically the simpler the casting got the more difficulties she encountered. It was an oddness that she managed to hide by not relying up prestidigitation and other minute spells for mundane tasks. Concentrating she spoke the words of summoning and danced her nimble fingers through the air. The wolf appeared after a momentary pause of uncertainty.

"And yet now you hesitate." He breathed out the words, spoken carelessly between them. He took a moment to examine the wolf, noting that the frigid chill had instantly sent it into shiver, its thick grey coat doing little to prevent the harsh caress of winter. "Very good. Now, your task." Finally he turned to face her, a simple pivot upon the ball of one foot that left him looming above her cotton candy colored head. "The ring is a sanctuary, offering shelter and warmth to its occupant.

She flinched at his assessment but listened intently to his instruction.

He continued: "Obviously this benefit does not extend beyond its parameter as the wolf outside is already suffering from the chill. Your task is to remove the celestial dog - who would be unhindered by the climate - from the ring and replace it with the wolf outside. The dilemma?" He paused, assessing her eyes, studying them as she listened. "You may cast only a single spell to accomplish this."

Ozalynne

Date: 2010-12-19 16:28 EST
(Part Three: Summoning Realization)

"Uhh." She looked from the poor shivering wolf to the celestial dog and back again. Immediately she could imagine righting the situation but the stipulation on one spell had her frantic. Her mind whirled faster and faster.

He continued. "Now, neither the wolf nor the dog can be commanded by you once the spell is cast. So opening a dimension door between the two spaces would be futile considering that you would have to command them to proceed." He lifted his chin as the wind whipped forward again, welcoming its cruelty. "With the dropping of the temperature the wolf will only be able to survive outside the ring for two days, three at most. I would commence with your research." He opened his eyes, leveling them on "Immediately."

She blinked again, wide distressed cotton candy blue eyes looking to him.

And then she cast.

It was an ambitious spell really, well beyond her capabilities but the thought didn't occur to her, only the need to fix the poor puppy's situation. Drawing up the well of energy that had never let her down she focused upon her intent and made up some hand gestures and words to fit her needs (normally something she was surprisingly --luckily--adept at). With her focus so intently on what she was doing she was unaware that despite the freezing cold she was trying to break out in a sweat that crystallized upon contact with the air. Her already pale features were now the color of purely driven snow and she weaved upon her feet as she attempted to simply Move the circle to the Wolf.

Had she not needed such focus to concentrate on moving the magical circle she would have been a witness to one of the rare times when Brais Galician was startled and showed it. His dark eyes widened as the foundation of his sanctuary began to drag across the ground, the contrasting powers causing little cracks to form in the very earth itself. The farther the circle moved, the wider his mouth fell. Because of the astral edifice the ring created, the celestial dog inside would be sweep along with its travel while the wolf on the outside would be pushed backwards as it gained ground. It was failure. It did not work, and yet as Brais turned to face her wide blue eyes, there was no sense of criticism. In fact, there was unabashed inquiry and dark fascination. "Ho....how did you do that?" Realizing his lack of composure, he suddenly tightened his sharp features and took a threatening step toward her. "Tell me, novitiate! How?!"

She turned wide blue eyes up at him, tears streaking her face at her failure. A gust of the arctic wind buffeted her weakened form and she stumbled in the snow. "I'm sorry, I just...I thought if I could only do one thing I'd move the ring..." A sob threatening to escape.

"You can't move the ring!" He snapped, a sweep of his hand drawing her attention to the magical circle and the wide streak across the ground that was proof of his sentiments contradiction. "The magic circle exists on three planes simultaneously. In order to move the circle you'd have to be strong enough to-" He clipped the words, grinding his teeth together. He couldn't say it. "How did you stumble across that power? Who taught you?" A thought caused anger to flare in his eyes as he again took a step toward, this time going so far as to grab her roughly by the arm. "Who else knows about this?"

Ozalynne

Date: 2010-12-19 16:29 EST
(Part Four: Summoning Realization)

She squeaked fearfully. He was a threatening man when he didn't think he was being crossed. Suddenly she was certain that they would find her body out here and a miserable recognition that no one could be as lucky as Vliss and simply resurrect themselves. "I'm really sorry Mage Galician. I am! I didn't think! I never think! I just do! When I think I mess it all up and I can't cast. I would never have, I mean I didn't mean to mess anything up and--"Choked gulping sob, "Many people know that I'm out here with you!" Certain that there were people who knew she'd left with him would surely anger him more but compelled to tell the truth, maybe it might save her life, "I told Blizzard and Mistmark and--" she wracked her brain desperately.

"Not about us, you foolish girl! About this!" He turned to the side and yanked her with him, his firm grasp keeping her upright. "Who else knows about this power you have?" Rage, it was equally as potent as he was normally stoic. The epitome of contrast.

She stumbled and fell against him. Her lightweight combined with her weakness after such a feat made keeping her feet impossible when being dragged through snow. Tears froze on her cheeks and wide cottoncandy blue eyes filled with distress, "I..I don't know. I mean I do well in my classes. I ace them all and I've completed my trials for my first year." Still desperate to appease his rage she sought an answer he would like, "Smout'n gave me high marks and said that I was 'impressive'" It was fast becoming apparent that Ozi had no idea what he was talking about and had managed to keep her power unnoticed by most as she was unassuming and he would know from his own class that she was always able to do the work given but never with the ambition or flair of other students who sought attention. Hers was a quiet, shy studiousness balanced by her daydreaming.

Clarity purged the infection of outrage, and slowly that fervor began to lessen. He held her against him, tightly fixed to his side as he stared obsessively at the ring. An inhale followed, widening his chest with the crisp winter air, and slowly his fingers began to release her upper-arm. The sting foretold a bruising tale. He realized then that she could not tell him who knew about her little gift because truly she did not know. She was not casting magic or reciting incantations. She was tapping a well, an innate reservoir of power unlike anything he had ever seen. He steeled his eyes and turned to face her. "You will speak to no one of this, do you understand?" It was a question, but also a threat.

"Speak of wh-what?" She was hopelessly confused, battered and lost amid a sea of exhaustion and fear.

"This. What you did with the ring. Moving it." He tilted his head as he watched her, recognizing the fear. "You have power, Ozalynne, and a great deal of it. If others were to know they would see it used to their own means." He glanced over his shoulder at the wolf and the dog, separated still by the magical circle. "You need to be trained."
He paused for a moment before looking back and adding. "...and I can train you."

She nodded slowly. And then in a glimpse of the innocent inner workings of her mind she turned imploring eyes up at him, "Can you put the wolf in the circle where it's warm." Obviously the import of what was transpiring lost upon her.

He tightened his lips, though dismissed the initial flash of irritation. Her naivety would be his greatest ally in getting her to comply with quickly forming agenda. He needed her to find that connection with him. Needed her to be inspired. He nodded. "I can." He turned just his eye over his shoulder to gaze at the pair before summoning a nebulous of magical energy around him. "Comutator!" He said, unleashing the arcana. Illumination flashed between the dog and the wolf, and in that moment they switched places - the celestial dog outside while the wolf resided within - with just a single spell. He turned back to face her and nodded. "I will teach you that."

Excitement brimmed and she turned adoring eyes up at him, "Yes! I want to learn how to help!" She was shuddering and shaking in the cold now.
"Good." He said with a nod. "Because I want to teach you, though this can only happen as long as it is secret. Once others learn of your gift they will twist that desire to help into harm." His eyes were hard and somber. "It's cold. Return to the Institute and resume your studies for the day. I'll contact you later in the week."

"Y-yes." She chattered and shivered, bundling tight in her cloak. A weak smile, "Th-thank you Brais." Not about to pass up the chance to get the hell out of the cold she made to leave. And then in another display of pure unadulterated lack of comprehension, she Gated. Phasing out and disappearing in an instant to travel between planes and return to her dorm room.

He watched her depart, and as she vanished through the gate...a spell well beyond her reach ...his thin lips curled at the corners. A weapon like her would come in useful. He started back for the campus, deciding a walk would do him some good.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-22 15:26 EST
Cold. It didn't bother her a bit, not even as she hurried barefoot through the snow, shoes clutched in one hand, texts to her chest. She knew her track - across the field and through the old stone arches to the main school. She wasn't in the dorms yet. Rather she stayed across campus in a small hut, converted from a storage shed. It wasn't dank or dirty by any means, it had been furnished as nicely as any dorm. But it afforded her the isolation and solitude she preferred, and Lune seemed to like it as well.

She often left the window wide open, to allow the owl to come and go as he pleased. The bitter cold was no issue so the both of them had the peace and freedom they craved. No rambunctious peers chattering and gallivanting outside her room. Just her, Lune and the expansive silence. Of course this also meant she had to leave for classes extra early so she would not be late.

Early on she had chosen her paths. skirting the main grounds as long as possible before a short dart through the arches and she'd slip inside. She used the less commonly used entrance, as students were less likely to be lingering there, and would hurry on her way. She only ever paused to slip her shoes on, before a deep breath, a turn of the knob, and she'd slip unnoticed into class.

She always sat in the back, the furthest corner into the recesses of the classroom as she could. Perhaps any other student would not have been able to hear the professor from so far back, but lupine hearing enabled her to scribble down everything her professor said as she eagerly soaked it all in. Every word was attended, hung on. Particularly in Ice elementalism class. Naveah Lyricstar was her secret idol, and she was always early to those classes.

After classes were over, she would hurry back to her secluded piece of paradise and continue her studies, often long into the night. She would forgo the company pf her classmates in favor of her books. Though there were a few faces she knew. Damien, Albion and Xera. She'd see them, wave, and occasionally greet them, but more often than not, she was to be found studying.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-22 19:47 EST
It had been fortuitous she'd run across Vliss and Brais in the hall. Though she'd almost fled, and over nothing more than a bitter comment about her shoes not being laced properly. Personally she felt they were unnecessary. She preferred the feel of snow under her bare feet. An invitation to the commons, a place she dreaded, had been graciously extended, by Vliss of course, and she'd grudgingly accepted. All the while she wanted nothing more than to bolt back to her retreat and immerse herself in a book. Something told her Brais would not mourn the loss of her company had she done just that.

But she didn't.

Instead she followed, joined them at a table and eventually was drawn into discourse. At least it was interesting, at first. Magic, discipline, but then it had turned upon her nature, and she'd felt hurt when her condition was referred to as a disease. She was no disease, not ill. Was it a crime to be part Lycan? She'd been thankful when the subject had changed yet again, turning to elementalism, something she truly had passion for. Though she'd admitted her aversion to fire. Both Brais and Vliss had agreed it might be wise for her to learn to control it, rather than to fear it.

Though Vliss had departed abruptly to make a class, Brais had stayed and talked further with her. It came to pass she told him why she was so afraid of fire. She had good reason. But his point was only made further by her own misfortune. 'Seek to control it. twist it, bend it to your will, and none will harm you with it again.' The logic was indisputable. Finally she agreed. She would seek out Xera, and ask her to teach her basic defensive fire elementalism. For some odd reason he had found it important enough to tell her also, she might wish to tell her instructor when the time came, that she had often extinguished fire as well.

Though she of course thought it was merely because her affinity for cold had overcome it. The girl still had no idea the dormant power that lay locked away within her, in an icy tomb she had unwittingly created herself. The power to manipulate all the elements was inherently there. and she unconsciously used some of them to such minuscule degrees it had gone quite unnoticed for a long time. Something as simple as reheating a drink gone cold, or a warm wind to dry her fur. She never even thought about these things, willingly oblivious to her own talent.

If only she would realize.

She had power. It was there, staring her in the face. And she had been afraid for so long, it was like looking into the face of a stranger, what should have been her most intimate friend. Things were going to change. She and Brais had excused themselves from one another, he to do some chore or such, she to seek Xera.

It was time to choose.
She was choosing to take control of her life. Take power.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-12-22 23:42 EST
Quillyan had read the same sentence three times, without the faintest comprehension of its meaning.

It wasn?t the complexity of the ideas. It wasn?t the subject matter. It wasn?t anything, except pure mental exhaustion. Slender fingers, as unmarred and uncalloused as any intellectual?s, wave once, snapping the book closed with a satisfying thump. It rested upon her torso, a none-too-subtle metaphor for the pressures of her education.

She lay back on her bed, eyes wandering over the blank expanse of the ceiling, thoughts wandering through the past few days.

There was depressingly little on which to linger. In her assessment, all of the other students (well, the ones worth a damn), were out socializing, fraternizing, and magicizing without her, while she was stuck in a blind-lead-blind study group of novices.

Even Albion was out somewhere, probably doing something much more exciting than staring at a ceiling.

Still, this solitude could allow her to make good on a threat from earlier in the week: relentless snooping. As the idea materialized, she sat up, allowing the book to drop, forgotten, upon her bedspread - already, she was measuring the silence of the hallway, calculating an attack, strategizing her search. She wasn?t exactly sure what she was hunting for; regardless, once the compulsion had taken hold, such thoughts were dismissed without consideration.

And Vilsaus? Sleeping. Really, did that thing ever wake up?

Kneeling next to his bed, she peered underneath, nearly pressing her cheek to the unforgiving stone floor, unruly crimson tresses falling upon this surface like so much rumpled silk. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she murmured absently: ?...and what does Albion have to hide??

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFlBHY2g3emdPNEJHVFp5c2E3MkU5aHcAAAACaWQKAXgAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-23 14:09 EST
It was unavoidable. She could not stay away from everyone forever, and after last night, she had discovered perhaps it would be wise to do a little research on abjuration. She had happened upon an impromptu study group, and ended up not only eavesdropping, but after the explanation on illusory magic by Fleur, she'd participated, asking questions.

Like where did her talents fall? She could easily bend light to direct the onlooker's gaze away even if the person knew where to look she would not be seen. What did that fall under? Abjuration.. Fleur had said. If you are using it to protect yourself..
She had been. She always had been. As long as she remembered she had used her varied abilities to conceal and protect herself from perceived threats. The fog that appeared when she was upset or nervous was more than an indicator of mood, it was concealment, it was security, it was safety.


Her ice elementalism had been occasionally used in the same manner, though more rarely. She could conjure it manipulate it, bend it to her will as naturally as breathing. She never even had to think about it. She'd never considered Abjuration. Until last night. Now she was wandering the halls looking for the great library. She ended up hopelessly lost and without another student in sight to ask for help. She silently cursed her lack of foresight for not bringing a map. Then she heard it. Heavy, methodical footfalls.

She followed the sound hoping perhaps it would be another student, a peer she could ask for help or direction. No such luck. She turned the corner and came face to face with Sartha. She gulped and looked up, eyes wide as she took a step or three back. He snorted softly looking irritated. "What are you doing wandering around by yourself? You're a first year." A gruff voice as he made his assessment of her uniform. She nervously rubbed one thickly furred arm and stammered. "I..I..I..."

Sartha looked disgusted. "Spit it out then. I'm not going to eat you, but I don't deal in time wasters. What are you doing?" She steeled herself and managed a soft reply. "I was looking for the library...Sir. Please..could you tell me where it is?" She silently prayed he would answer her and not reprimand her further for wandering the halls alone. He eyed her speculatively a moment, mulling over the truth of her words. Satisfied she was not lying he snorted softly, his gravelly voice offering a rather irritated sounding answer. "Turn around and follow this hall til you reach the split. Turn left. Library is the third door on the right."

Without another word, He turned and left the way he came, muttering something about damn first years always getting lost and bothering him. Saphira gratefully followed the directions he'd given her, greatly relieved when she finally found what she'd been after in the first place. She stepped through the door and stopped, gaping in sheer wonder at the veritable cornucopia of knowledge spread before wondering eyes. She found the section where she would find information on abjuration selected a book entitled The Basics of Protective Spellcasting. And found a table currently unoccupied by anyone else.

She settled herself and opened the book, and began pouring over it, like a sponge soaking up every bit of knowledge she could. after all, as Vliss and Brais had said..Knowledge is power And she was tired of being afraid. It was time to move out of her comfort zone and get down to business.
http://img822.imageshack.us/img822/3060/saphira.jpg

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-24 00:28 EST
The moon hung high in the sky still quite round though it was waning it still appeared almost full. Saphira was outside her quarters, staring up at it through skeletal fingers of trees that were ice laden and sparkling as though star-clad. It was beautiful. The tree line kept her little patch of heaven well isolated and obscured from the view of the school so she was well and truly alone. She loved it. Lune sat high above in a tree overhanging the small clearing, watching. Perhaps it was an odd sort of thing for an owl to do, but Lune was an odd sort anyway. He had simply shown up one night and never left.

She took a few steps from her door, feeling the snow being crushed beneath her bare feet. It was delightful. She closed her eyes a moment inhaling deeply as a gust of wind ruffled her fur pleasantly. She was out of uniform, but it really didn't matter. Her fur was so thick there was not so much as an inch of bare flesh to be seen. And the fur at her hips and thighs was even thicker and longer, as a loin's mane might be. She had unbound her hair and the wind took it up almost playfully. Her eyes slid open again, as she moved.

Her fur ruffled softly with her motion, as white as the snow on the ground. Slowly, deliberately she raised her arms, curling tendrils of mist trailed her hands and fingers. A look of deep concentration painted her features. Fog drifted around her feet and ankles, low and clinging thickly. Every motion was precise, calculated. The vapor condensed a bit, swathing part of her body in it's obscuring shroud.
She turned, keeping her left arm raised, fingers crooked just so, while bringing her right arm down in a slow sweeping gesture.

The curling tendrils began to freeze, solidifying in perfect crystalline whorls. This was the best time to practice her control, when it was so quiet and peaceful and she had no fear of being bothered. It looked as though she were dancing in slow motion, though there was no music, only her and Lune. Her concentration was completely shattered when an unexpected voice came from the concealment of the trees.

"So, it's true. The standards must be seriously failing if they are letting in mongrels like you." Jolie stepped out from the trees, a withering look of disdain open on her face. "Are you so poorly mannered as to not even know how to clothe yourself? Such a disgusting animal, and you don't even attempt to act civilized." Saphira gaped at the girl who had somehow slipped past Sartha. "Who are you? what are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be here!" Jolie sneered. "You think I cannot come and go as I please? You are sadly mistaken. But, to answer I came to see for myself if it was true, they admitted a dog. It seems they have. And I thought this was supposed to be an Institute of higher learning." Jolie Stepped closer, her smile anything but nice. "I suggest you watch your step, pooch, because I don't like dogs." And with that she turned and moved back into the tree line she'd emerged from, satisfied with herself.

Saphira watched her go, mouth agape. Trembling with anger she stalked to her quarters and went in, whistling for Lune. Once they were safely inside for the first time since her arrival, she closed the window and the door, sliding the bolt firmly into place. She climbed into her bed and pulled up her blanket. But she never went to sleep.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-12-24 16:37 EST
{NPC Updates}

Jolie was quite busy torturing the new students...and the old ones. She'd made no friends since coming here and had to be directly addressed by Zhennavieve LaCroix for daring to sink her fangs into another student on campus. She was given a warning that should she seek to make a meal of a peer again Satariel Shah would be dealing with her personally. This only seemed to make her meaner. The only respite most had was that she did not (could not) attend classes in the bright light of day. While able to find a version of protection from the sunlight with the darkened hallways of the Institute, she still slept the sleep of the dead from Dawn until Noon (those eight hours remained her most vulnerable). Her coffin was guarded by a dire wolf. Of course, this meant that if you were a more nocturnal by nature student or took mostly evening and night courses you would be more exposed to her particular brand of bitchy.

Eleyna had made no friends for herself either. Her application to the school accepted though she had yet to begin taking classes. Holding herself regally superior to all other students she apparently did not understand why this might upset others. Her fascination with Kysinya is obvious and open for interpretation. A loner, for now she remains in one of the guest suites until the new semester fully starts where she will be assigned a roommate.

Akemi continues to unnerve people with his presence. What is it about the way he stares? Or finds an excuse to touch? Or steps too close? that makes him unwelcome? Though recently he has entered into a dark and twisted relationship with Myraddin Numidor. Usually found in the presence of Praysin, Mistress of Earth Elementalism and Interim Mistress of Transmutation.

Zhairan has yet to really leave his guest rooms. Very little is known about him.

Violette is rumored to be Fleur Rousseau's little sister though many cast doubt upon such suppositions. For now the young woman remains in her luxurious rooms of privilege and her chance encounters with the other students never seems to go well.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-12-24 16:57 EST
{Albion and Quillyan's dormitory}

Viisaus rested upon its perch, coiled around itself with its maw tucked beneath its tail. A deep breath caused a shudder to ripple through its quasi-reptilian form, but otherwise the lazy Dragon Fae did little to stir.

Beneath the bed were a number of different things, and while they should have been cluttered, Albion had them neatly arranged so that the 'mess' was ultimately efficient. Luggage for the most part filled the area, though there were also a motley of duffle bags and sling sacks. If she were bold enough to pull them out she would notice that there was no rhyme or reason to their patterns or colors. Obviously he had not purchased them as a set, but had simply collected an assortment of such items when needed.

What filled them were the items and baubles of his time within the Institute. It was well publicized that Albion spent a majority of his freshman year studying item craft along with spell composition, and inside the bags and cases were the residual leftovers of these endeavors. Everything from failed magical rings to partially scripted scrolls filled them, which was a rare sight as it was uncommon to find anything of the crimson haired Transmuter that wasn't complete, perfected, and turned in for a grade or extra credit. Also inside was his Novitiate uniform. His shirt and vest, breeches and boots, along with his cloak, his first year spell book, and his initial wand. It was all there, neatly folded and arranged as though it were meant to be on display and easily obtained if need be, which harbored the question...two actually: Why would one go to such efforts as to make something so pristine if only to hide it away under the bed and why keep it at all? Most novitiates celebrated their graduation by gating their first year garb to Pandemonium.

And then, depending on how thorough and complete her search was, if she lifted up his spell book she would find a smaller volume behind it. The weight of the spell book caused the clothing the books rested on to indent, sinking them flush and making the smaller book hard to see.

This small tome was sealed by a bronze lock anchored upon the front and, inscribed upon its cover were two words that mustered intrigue and curiosity.

.....First Year....


....it was a journal.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-25 14:44 EST
Akuma Taijiya -- Part One

Midnight. You know where.

...is what the note pinned to Ozalynne's door read. It might have seemed odd that he was so insistent they keep their meetings secret and yet willing to just leave that sort of blatant message on her door, though it was all explained after a passing Kish had asked her about the Sweattar Sale she was attending, referring to the note that he 'accidentally' read. Obviously the magic used upon the parchment allowed only her eyes to read what was truly there...though it was just as obvious that she was oblivious and completely inept at lying and poor Kish would've been left with an odd stream of garbled explanation,

"What? Sweettart Sale? No. I'm not. But Really? Because that would be awesome! I'd love it. I mean cuz I'm going. Right? They're my all time favorite especially when..."

...she'd launched into all the different and delightful ways that they could be devoured until Kish had come up with some way to extricate himself from the diatribe.

At 11:55 she materialized at Twilight Island pleased to discover that the snowy, icy, weather seemed content to leave the magical pocket be for now.

Alone, he stood just beyond the entry portal leading to the Island. He was not dressed in his customary Mage Uniform, but the oriental attire of his homeland that included an intricate and lavish obsidian Kimono lined with silver symbols, hakama pants, and split-toe boots. Oddly enough, there was also an instrument present that might give those familiar with the mage pause; a katana.

http://i836.photobucket.com/albums/zz281/AukaiMastema/107088-katana-deluxe-schwert-sword-polster-latex-waffe-larp-foam-weapon.jpg

With the scabbard tucked through the belt at the small of his back, its hilt would be seen just beyond his left hip. "Who knows that you are here?" He asked, his hair drawn back into a knot-top that revealed the handsomely sharp features of his angular visage.

Ozalynne hated that his first question always seemed to relate to their secrecy. If she were to die out on one of their secret meetings would anybody even know? But drawing in a deep breath she answered in her sweet dulcet tones, "No one, Mage Galician." Her focus drawn inevitably to his attire and his present weapon. She wanted to ask but knew that he would explain in time. She bit her lip for now.

Brais' eyes fell in cursory appraisal before he stepped around her as though to head back through the portal. The long lash of stark white hair slithered about his shoulders with each stride, yet beyond that there was no mindless motion. He seemed very focused. "Come with me." Was all that he said, stepping through the gate, and disappearing.

Surprised, Ozalynne turned about as he moved, wide candy blue eyes following him closely as she tried not to blurt out the dozens of questions that pressed her. She knew he hated it when she was impatient and had learned to bide her time but it was nearly impossible. Her mouth parted to exclaim at his sudden departure before the futility of it sent her darting through the portal after him.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-25 14:46 EST
Akuma Taijiya -- Part Two


Dark and wet, the intricate weave of alleyways running through the heart of the city were left, for the most part, alone by the city watch. Within the urban corridor they suddenly occupied, which was empty save for them, there was a sense of lurking danger as though the brick walls would at any moment reach out and grab her, or the cobblestone street would open up and swallow her whole. Brais was not far ahead, the wide span of his back covered by the image of a swirling silver dragon that adorned his obsidian kimono. He examined the corridor momentarily and then turned his peripheral gaze over his shoulder to observe her, whispering. "Follow and prepare your magic. What happens next will be quick, and you will need to be ready." He understood the look in her eyes and the plethora of questions that stirred inside of her, thus the reason why he took off in a dash, one hand dropping to his sword hilt as he raced away from her and down the alleyway.

"B-but!" His speed was effective in keeping those thousands of questions stilled and she quickly sped after him. There was no way she was going to linger in this dismal place without him. And while his command of preparation might have meant something else, she did indeed ready herself...to gate away to safety should the need arise. The cobblestones were slick with refuse and ice, the cold air puffing out visibly from her lips as her cloak rippled around her novitiate's uniform. Thankfully dark enough to offer some concealment in this less than pleasant place, though her hot pink leg warmers might ultimately give her away.

A quick turn here, a sharp left there. There was no doubt that if she could not keep up she would be lost in the labyrinth they traversed. They raced passed ominous entryways and dark arches, all of which seemed to have some sort of eager groan emerging with their nearness. Something inside the darkness loomed, awaiting the common passerby to indulge their curiosity and be ripped to shreds. Brais finally ended their hasty sojourn as they arrived at an intersection, pressing his back flush with the wall and quickly taking a look around the corner with only his eyes.

Ozalynne had been in the process of looking over her shoulder into one of those groaning dark alcoves when he had stopped and turned flush with the wall. Her gaze came around just in time to pull up in her hasty flight, desperate to not be lost within the labyrinth she had been moving with little regard to care. She tried to stop. Really she did. But the icy slick cobblestones were her undoing, her footing lost as she slammed into his side, her chin hitting his elbow with enough force to knock her legs out from under her.

His narrowed gaze could be felt burning a hole into her soul, even as his free hand lashed out and took her around the waist, offering no comfort of recoil from her slick collision with him...as well as no chance of tumbling. Her small, feminine form was crushed into the hard lines of slender muscle that laced his body, his mouth pressed hard against her temple as he dared to not even breath for a long time. "If you wish to end your own life I will assist, though do not take me with you, foolish girl." He hissed. He turned his head and again took a quick look around the corner, his sigh of relief foretelling of their continued covertness. "A cambion." He hissed. "You know what a Cambion is, yes? You have Master Smout'n's necromancy class don't you?" His voice was barely existent.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-25 14:47 EST
Akuma Taijiya -- Part Three

She stifled a whimpered squeak. well aware of the need for silence, not because he commanded it but because the very area demanded that they remain unnoticed. The urge to demand answers as to why they were there or to even plea to leave such an unsavory place was on the tip of her tongue as he held her from the cruel impact of the ground. But his interest in the creature gave her pause and fed her curiosity. A lean across him to peek around the corner accompanied a whisper, "Smout'n says Cambions are little better than beserkers."

"He is right." Brais whispered.

As she turned her eyes around the corner, a little bit of her innocence would undoubtedly be stolen due to the unholy union taking place. Twenty feet from where she stood beneath the tawny glow of a street lamp and trio of scaly skinned humanoids would wickedly indulge in the carnal offerings of a lone Drow woman. Her eye, trained in arcana, would note the pentagram the union took place within, as well as the crude altar that stood just off to the side.

http://i836.photobucket.com/albums/zz281/AukaiMastema/Cambion.jpg

Though it was monstrous and inhuman, the setting seemed right.

Ozalynne gasped.

It was not to be contained, stricken eyes flickering up toward Brais as she ricocheted back against the alley wall. Flattened beside him, "Why are we here?" She hissed, seconds from gating back to the Institute and away from this place.

"To end their foulness." He snarled, eyes floating starward for but a moment. "The Cambion infestation within Rhy'din is quickly getting out of control and must be stopped." He brought his eyes down and turned a look upon her. "I am part of the Akuma Taijiya." His words were followed by the sound of steel sliding across the brass scabbard mouth, his sword suddenly in his hand. "Prepare your magic." A quick motion and he was gone, the flowing trail of his knot-top the last to round the corner.

"Part of the wha?" Her words were lost again into the dark hold of the putrid alley as she was left alone by his speed. She wanted to wail after him, prepare what magic?? but was worried that her words would reveal their location before he was ready. She wasn't sure why they were there, why the Cambion 'infestation' was her problem or even if they were a problem. Yet Smout'n stood out in her mind, his icy rational approach calmed her nerves. He had said the Cambions were a danger and that fueled her into action. Stepping around the corner to watch the stealthy agile approach of her mentor, she aided him in a whispered incantation that slipped over him. He could quite suddenly smell and taste sweettarts. The sugary confection there upon his tongue as surely as if he'd recently ate one and with it came a dash of blurring speed to his movements.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-25 14:48 EST
Akuma Taijiya -- Part Four

Naturally he was fast, though thanks to her spell Brais seemed indiscernible. The first stroke of his sword came across in a sidelong line that took the head of the nearest demon, though before that decapitated body could hit the ground Brais pivoted around with a forward plunge to sink his blade into the chest of the adjacent Cambion. Movements were precise. Form was flawless.

That demon, however, was a bit quicker than his fallen comrade, and lunged backwards, clearing more than twenty feet through the air.

Brais launched into a forward roll, out of range of the last demon who laid upon the alleyway floor nearby, avoiding the creature's maddened swipe to cleave his ankles with its claws. Brais held his tongue, warding off the need to shout instructions to Ozalynne. She was still hidden near the corner and they hadn't appeared to notice her presence. While he knew that wouldn't last, the longer he could distract them the better.

Ozalynne was frozen for a petrified moment. Shock and fear were combating with the freezing drizzle that seemed to fall from the sky in weeping tears. The sudden carnage was too much for the young novitiate and she opened her mouth to scream a warming that was unnecessary as Brais' nimbly avoided the deadly swipe of the prone Cambion's claws. The scream would turn into a summoning, as the power that she undeniably possessed rose in a wave at her riot of emotions. The rain that fell seemed to alter in a slow glazing of its hue directly above the creature upon the floor. A sickly greenish luminescence changed the very nature of it to acid.

The transmutation of elements was something she'd always found a natural ease with, perhaps because it was one of the rarer studied forms of magic and therefore required less rigid rules for understanding and completion.

The prone Cambion roared in bestial misery as the acidic rain saturated its flesh, scrambling about and clawing at the cobblestone in frantic search of an escape.

The other fiend snarled as it watched Brais, gathering its composure as it splayed its fingers wide, the black claws that adorned each digit lengthening nearly four times their original size to that of daggers. If there was any sense of panic with the Mage it did not show on his angular visage as he, with a simple word of power, summoned a pair of warriors to stand at each side of him, their glowing eyes and rotting flesh able to be seen through the cracks in their armor, a testament to their undeath. Clenching the hilt of his sword in both hands Brais let loose a war cry and darted forward, followed by his conjurations.

Ozalynne couldn't chase the Cambion with her spell as that would require a change in the casting, nor did she dare alter much more of the rain in the area out of fear of accidentally harming her mentor. As he conjured forth undead warriors she nearly clapped in glee, certain that Smout'n would be proud. "Yes!" She exclaimed in her excitement, inadvertently giving her location away. With a dance of her nimble fingers upon the air, she cast again.

Brais Galician

Date: 2010-12-25 14:50 EST
Akuma Taijiya -- Part Five

This time as Brais felt the sensation of her alteration descend upon him, he'd (of course) taste Sweettarts even as his strength multiplied.

Brais dipped his shoulder as the Cambion arrived, the swipe of its elongated claws slicing through the air just above his head. This did expose the midsection of the demon and, without hesitation, Brais struck true with a horizontal slash that opened up the scaly gut. There was little time for the Cambion to respond to Brais, though. The twin skeletal warriors descended upon it with harsh downward strokes of jagged, vicious weapons, drawing the focus away from the Mage. Brais knew that the undead warriors would be no match for the superior Cambion, but he didn't need them to be. They were a distraction.

Scraping its claws across the stone floor of the Alley and drenched in acidic rain, the Cambion's attention was drawn to the voice screaming from the intersection. Swallowing the agony caused by the magical downfall, it summoned forth its own dark magic and thrust out its hand, sending a trio of flaming daggers blazing, end over end, across the distance between it and Ozalynne.

She squeaked. It was not the most fierce of sounds, in fact it was a frightened girl's cry as she instinctively threw herself prone on the icy slick ground of the cobblestoned streets. It didn't occur to her to throw up a shield, perhaps a statement on her lack of abjuration classes. Rolling over onto her back as the flame daggers singed past, she tilted her head back, blue hair spilling across the ground in a visual display of shocking color.

From her inverted angle she would see the Cambion skittering across the floor toward her on hands and knees with an inhuman speed equaled to that of a man running.

Big, luminous sapphire eyes surveyed her attacker from an upside down position and with a shout she thrust her hands toward him. Suddenly that candy blue gaze appeared to be glowing in an inferno of power that was echoed and mirrored within the Cambion himself, a blue smoky residue oozing from its mouth, eyes and ears before it quite suddenly... imploded.

Just before it arrived and ripped her to pieces her spell took hold and left it with a gnarled shape upon its neck, spewing ichor as it crashed lifelessly to its belly and skitter across the slick cobblestones.

Across the alleyway Brais rushed in, the intricate dance of his blade tearing open the back of the Cambion, whose lethal claws had destroyed both of the conjured warriors. It spun back with a wild swing that Brais was able to duck beneath, another sidelong slash tearing open the creatures stomach wider, buckling it over. Brais spun on the ball of his foot, bringing the sword up high in a continuation of his abdominal slash, and then swept it downward with an arching slice that freed the creatures head from its body. It dropped to the ground, twitching.

Slowly Brias scoured the scene and then turned his eyes to his pupil.

"Now..." He said evenly, "...let's review today's lesson."

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2010-12-25 16:54 EST
His eyes cracked open just a sliver to take a look at the time piece on the bedside table, his expression contorting into disgust as he realized that he was going to be late if he didn't get moving. He accompanied the yawn that followed with a stretch that was lion worthy, straining limbs laced with muscle across the width of his mattress in eager relief of tight stiffness.

It was these growling sounds that caused Ozalynne, who slept beside him, to stir and roll, dropping the back of her hand onto his face with a rather audible slap.

Blizzard chuckled as he laid for a moment beneath her careened fingers, her unconscious assault on him appearing to go unnoticed for the most part. With a gentle and precious snort she remained asleep.

Carefully he slid from beneath her hand and sat up, a head turn over his shoulder allowing lavender eyes to trail along the glimpses of her naked flesh exposed by the sheet swirled around her. Their relationship certainly wasn't lacking passion, or friendship for that matter. He loved spending time with her, in and out of bed, and found his thoughts drifting to her and their endeavors often.

But with that said, the one area he seemed to be struggling the most with was honesty, which was odd considering the heavy weight his mother had always put on it. She had taught him that honesty was the only salvation for the damned, and that without it there were no straight roads - only winding paths. He had believed this his entire life. Honesty was his greatest virtue.

...until now.

He reached out and gently put his hand on her back, right between her slender shoulder blades. Her skin was soft and pure, like snow when it first fell, and he couldn't imagine ever doing anything to hurt her...though he often did, unbeknownst to her.

She shifted, a sway of her head drowning his hand in her candy-blue tresses, a sight that made him smile.

He stood and started upon the familiar journey of finding his novitiate uniform. The night had been a late one for both of them, and they had been so eager to ...study, as Ivinia put it ...that they tossed their clothing where ever it landed.

Except for her left legwarmer.

Somehow that had managed to stay on all night long.

He donned the attire and drew his cloak around his shoulders, finding his wand buried beneath her uniform skirt and panties. He did his best to gather her things, keeping them in a pile near her side of the bed so that when she woke up her search wouldn't be nearly as daunting as his.

He kissed her softly on the cheek and eased out the door, drawing it closed behind him before starting away to head down the hall and toward his first class of the day.

Fleur Rousseau.

There was plenty to learn.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-12-25 17:10 EST
HOWLINGMOON

For several nights, Saphira closed and bolted her door and window against Jolie. Every night since her first encounter, the vampire had seen fit to torment her. Scraping against her door, rattling the shutters, and horrible maddened laughter. The first night it had happened she had flung open her door, fully expecting to see the vampiric b*tch to be standing there and laughing, but she wasn't. Saphira knew she'd been there, she could smell her. There was a particular smell a person had when there were undead, and Jolie's was tainted heavily with malice.

Everyone knew she'd been reprimanded for biting another student, and so Saphira had no doubts she was not above physically attacking someone. The stench grew ever stronger as the 'visits' went on. Never so much as a foot print, but a wolf's sense of smell was keen and the scent was as plain as a signature. As the nights kept passing, it progressively worsened. The morning she stepped out to find a stray dog that had been brutally slain and disemboweled had been the final straw.

The poor dog's head had been piked, the rib cage spread apart and the innards scattered about. The intestines had been strung up like grim crepe paper. the skin had been peeled away from it's sides and spread apart from the body with it's own bones, like a grotesque mockery reminiscent of wings. The spectacle was horrifying. In the mouth of the impaled head was a rolled scroll. With trembling fingers she had taken it and unrolled it. There was a single line of script.

You're Next.

The parchment burst into flames, causing her to yelp involuntarily. It seemed Jolie was aware of her dislike of fire as well. Enough was enough. She was tired. She had been bothered for nights on end, deprived sleep and the peace and solitude her quarters were supposed to offer her. Now this. Jolie had gone too far. She looked at the scene a moment, a grisly display of hostility, entrails and blood everywhere. She took a breath and began cleaning it up.

It was several hours before she had cleaned every organ, every bone every shred of fur, all of it. She buried the poor mutilated corpse and cleaned herself of the blood and gore. When she came back out of her quarters she was out of uniform. Eyes were narrowed. It was still earlier than Jolie would be up. Saphira knew she would still be sleeping the sleep of the dead. She knew about the dire wolf.

So Jolie didn't like 'dogs' Well it would be a terrible disservice to keep her suffering another one, wouldn't it? Of course it would. She strode toward the school, in naught but her fur. As the school hove into sight, fog curled and crept up around her body and then she began to dematerialize into it. Thin and wispy it was spread out, filtering not near the floor, but high above, near the ceiling where it went unnoticed.

There. The dire wolf guarding Jolie's sleeping place. The mist coalesced and took shape. The dire wolf hardly knew what had happened, before it found itself confronted with an enormous white lycan. This wasn't something the beast was used to dealing with. Humans, smaller creatures, yes. But this? A deep rolling growl like thunder ground from her chest erupting in a vicious snarl and as the dire wolf leaped to defend it's mistress she moved.

Who would have ever guessed the timid wolf-maiden could move like that? The wall of white fur and muscle rippled as she moved from her crouch to catch the dire wolf mid leap in bone-crushing jaws. The beast yelped in surprise and pain, clawing and snapping at her face. She clenched down, hard and in seconds snapped the creature's spine. The dire wolf collapsed lifelessly in her jaws and she dropped it on the floor impassively. Blood pooled from it's mouth and would have coagulated by the time it was discovered.

The huge white beast began to dematerialize once more, not so much as a hair was left behind, not a trace, nothing. It was as though she had never been. The fog drifted serenely up to the ceiling and along the corridors and filtered out through the cracks of one of the doors. Once outside it remained thin and wispy until it reached it's destination. She remained in her quarters until it was time for class, grimly satisfied.
http://img822.imageshack.us/img822/3060/saphira.jpg

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-12-25 18:15 EST
{The Forging of Harmonic Cacophony}
The Arrival of the Mistress of Bardic Magic
Part 1

She'd been warned.

Tasha's last words to her had been quite clear, "Little Sister, the stars align against you and he. It is naught but darkness and despair."

She'd ignored her and refused to see her off when she'd left for the big city. Packing her own belongings a week later she'd left with him to follow the path wherever it would take them. Together, with their hearts fused nothing seemed insurmountable.

********

The dark dingy room stunk of urine and cigarette smoke. Her steps across the worn wooden floor echoed those of another's many times past. It would seem she wasn't the only one who had paced this dismal tread in search of salvation.

The noise from downstairs was loud and uncouth. The laughter and music coarse. She'd been fighting a throbbing headache since their arrival and had passed on the slop they were selling as stew.

Now, hungry and increasingly ill, she rubbed a hand through the glorious wealth of her unbound hair and attempted to massage away the tension that built within her throbbing temples.

The starlit sky beckoned from the grimy window that was sealed shut and refused to budge. There was never a time when the star's shine didn't make her miss her sister and regret this path she had foolishly thrown herself on.

She'd almost left him at the last dive they'd stayed at but it was there that she'd made the startling discovery that even now ate at her soul. One graceful hand fell to her smooth abdomen. It was too early to sense any signs of life but she knew.

As surely as she knew this was no life to bring a child into. Traveling from dirty little hovel to the next. Her singing buying their supper and room and board. His horrid luck at cards and addiction to liquor squandering any chance they had to make a different life for themselves.

And this place..."The Flesh Wound" was the most disgusting of destinations they'd discovered yet.

The sounds from downstairs had escalated. Obviously a bar brawl of some kind. Nothing she hadn't heard before and she paid it no mind until she heard him, bellowing in pain.

Fear flashed deep within her and she hesitated before rushing out into the hall and to the stairs. It was madness. People were engaged in all manner of struggles and the dead and the dying already had begun to pile up.

And there, in the middle of a struggle was her husband, blood dripping from a cut beneath his eye and staining the scruff of his beard.

Reaching deep within her she parted her lips in what one might have mistaken for the beginnings of a scream, but the sound that emerged was pure, honeyed and sweet. A delicate note, held and as it reverberated through the room it built in power. Her essence pouring about that sound and filling it with a command.

A bard. A magician of music. She'd always possessed the raw talent and even the training thanks to her Great Aunt. It wasn't something she abused often in a land of unknown strengths like RhyDin, such notice could result in more danger than one could imagine.

Slowly, one by one, the men and women of The Flesh Wound dropped away, swayed beneath the power of her voice and the command within it. She altered the tune, her voice dropping in a swaying slide of harmony to lull. And with her soft song urged them all to sleep.

Picking her way down the stairs and the littered bodies, she shook her husband to alertness, "Come on, we need to go."

He blinked up at her blearily, "But I was on a good run."

She narrowed her gaze and hissed, "You about got yourself killed. Again."

"Naw, I was doin just great until that caped freak realized I was cheatin."

She glared at him as she pulled him up to his feet, "You shouldn't cheat in a place like this."

"And you shouldn't call people caped freaks either," The low sinister growl was accompanied by movement as the man at the nearby table rose to his cloaked height.

She opened her mouth to sing again and he wave a hand at her dismissively, "Don't bother. I'm immune to your pretty little voice..." His gaze dropped down over her body, "if not your pretty little body."

His chuckle made her stomach turn over as if she'd tasted something rancid. And she turned horrified eyes on her husband, "Do something."

"I..I" Her husband quite suddenly convulsed sharply as the magic hit him squarely in the heart. His body arching spasmodically as mana shot through him.

She screamed at the sight of him in pain. The sound reviving the sleeping combatants to blink groggily around in question.

A question the hooded man was all too happy to answer: "She's a witch, and he's a lying cheat."

**************

She regained consciousness slowly. Unable to open one eye, she blinked blearily at the carnage around her. There, in a pile beside her was her husband, though it was quite obvious that he no longer lived. The thought was met with numbness.

"Ahh you're waking up." Came the same cold drawl from earlier.

She turned slowly toward the cloaked man, her trembling hands pushing her up from the table she lay across.

Blood. It was everywhere. It leaked from her nose, dripped from her split lip and oozed from the corner of one swollen eye.

"Don't worry sweetheart, we'll get you cleaned up after your good and broken in. After all, we can't have a slave who doesn't know her place." He smirked and drew back his hood to reveal strangely enough handsome features.

It was then she noticed, through the pressure of the pain of her body came an agonizing ache that spoke of violation and loss. The blood between her thighs drew a clutch of panic that blazed through the numbness.

No.

It was a silent thought.

"No."

And then a gasp of horror at the realization of her loss.

"NO!"

The enraged cry brought with it the sharp blast of her bardic power. The sonic assault slamming into her would-be captor. His features contorted. His assured smirk lost beneath a twisting of pain. Assured of his immunity he attempted to withstand her assault.

Tipping back her head, the youngest sister of the Van Blaudins (a long and powerful line of Romanian gypsies) let lose in a sonic scream that rippled through The Flesh Wound and killed any who heard it.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2010-12-26 14:04 EST
He knew...

He knew Vliss was in her room and Terrified. The demon within him could feel and drank deeply of the fear. Reveled in it...

... And it made him sick to his stomach.

He was protective of those he called friends, especially the ladies of his acquaintance. He wanted to reach out and comfort Vliss and he could not chance it... Or ruin her solitude.

The mask was in place in public and he could respect that.

Maybe Cerise was around for a bit of companionship... No, he couldn't do that to her. Again, respected her far too much.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-12-26 21:04 EST


Quillyan sat back on her heels, her awed countenance half-concealed by rebellious red curls.

She couldn?t believe it.

With the refined line of her jaw slack in unfiltered astonishment, her hands rotated the small journal over and over in careful palms, as if testing the text?s solidity and very existence. It was simply too perfect, too tempting, and her terrible excitement made her acutely aware of the unbearable silence in the room.

?Viisaus!? She hissed, unable to restrain herself, ?This can?t be what I think it is. Oh, it?s too good.? The creature answered not, but Quillyan continued - cognizant of her folly in addressing this slumbering creature, but, considering this solitude, caring little. ?Why oh why do people keep these things? What an awful idea. Best case, no one ever sees it and it collects dust under your bed, and worst case...worst case, oh...I don?t know, but I?m sure a lot of really bad things could happen.?

The monologue paused as she examined the bronze lock securing the tome. It seemed a fairly basic mechanism - one that could be surpassed with only a simple spell. She was good with locks and didn?t doubt her ability gain access to the words within; however, a conflicted conscience stayed her actions.

?Oh Gods, Viisaus, what do I do?? She whispered in delighted misery to the dragon fae, ?I really want to open it. If the tables were turned, I don?t think I could blame someone for doing the same, if it just so happened to fall into their hands.?

She gazed at Albion?s other belongings, carefully withdrawn from under the bed. It was essential that she replaced every last item perfectly, for she was sure that her meticulous roommate would notice a disrupted order.

?Okay, well maybe it didn?t ?just fall? into my hands...but still...?

The agonized revery was disrupted by three sharp knocks on the door, setting the young witch into a dizzying state of alarm: a heart pounded with vicious guilt; a stomach twisted in sudden tension.

?F**k,? she muttered under her breath, already beginning to shove Albion?s belongings back under the bed. ?F**k, f**k, f**k.? Two more knocks echoed among the walls, and louder now: ?Just a second!?

With everything haphazardly concealed, she leapt to her feet and hastened to the door, turning the lock and opening only a grudging twelve or so inches - enough for her willowy form to crowd the small space.

Kish?s casual smile and nonchalance were immediately replaced with open curiosity at the sight of her blushing and flustered demeanor. ?What?s going on in there, Quil? Is Albion around??

?Nope!? she responded quickly, attempting a polite smile. ?He?s not. Want me to tell him you dropped by? Okay. I will. See you later, Kish.?

?Wait,? responded the young genius, eyeing the book in her hand. ?What?s that?? Quillyan's bewildered azure gaze beheld Albion?s journal, clutched possessively at her left side. F**k.

?Oh, it?s just my diary. Nothing big. See?? She pointed to the front, where the words First Year were inscribed. ?First Year. Me.? A forced, unconvincing laugh.

Kish was not buying it.

?Well, I?ll tell Albion you dropped by. Good to see you!? She closed the door and immediately turned the lock, then wearily dropped the journal on her bedspread. It seemed to her that Viisaus had one eye half-open in mocking, clandestine observation.

For a moment, she considered hurling the book at the worthless creature.

Instead, she merely sighed, fell to her knees at Albion?s bedside, and endeavored to replicate the exact order of the items found beneath.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-26 22:46 EST
Saphira steeled her nerves. She knew she'd been wrong, knew she'd gone too far. She really had not meant to do it, at least, that was what she kept telling herself. She'd been sleep deprived, exhausted, frightened and angry all at the same time. She'd run into Damien earlier that morning and confessed herself, miserably. Yes, she had been provoked, no, she didn't start it. (though it seemed she damn sure might have finished it) Yes, she felt as though she were in danger. Hell, Jolie had threatened her outright in a most disturbing manner. Even Damien said he did not blame her, though she had been wrong to kill the dire wolf.

She'd decided even though there was no physical evidence to connect her to the crime, even though she hated Jolie's black rotting guts, she should confess to Deaconess Shah. It was the responsible, adult thing to do. She dressed herself carefully in her uniform, making certain she had not a single thing out of place. She was terrified. She steadied herself as she entered the main part of the school, largely unnoticed by her peers, though occasionally the white-furred female was thrown the occasional off look. It seemed like forever as she wandered through the labyrinthine hallways. She was in no hurry but she wasn't stalling either. Her's was a methodical pace that would get her there in due course.

She was so nervous she was unconsciously causing the air temperature in her immediate area to plunge to sub-freezing. Frost was blooming along the floor and walls where she passed to vanish again as the sphere of cold moved on with her. She was going over in her mind what she would say, how she would explain herself, she wasn't minding exactly where she was going. So it came to her a great surprise when she walked right into Kish. She reeled back in surprise snapped back to the here and now to find herself being steadied by a strong hand on her forearm, a hand that did not seem to be shy of her thick fur. "Whoah there, hey, you alright?"

She blinked as she gathered her wits and found herself looking into some of the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. "I yeah..I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." Flushing as he released his hold on her arm. She shot him an apologetic look, as ice began forming on the wall closest to her. Kish seemed to pick up on this right away. "Hey, it's alright, just might wanna be more careful, you might hurt yourself next time. You doin' that?" A glance to the ice, as he gave her a rather lopsided grin. She nodded nervously. "Oh...sorry...I it happens when I'm nervous." She was wishing he would quit asking questions so she could go. "That's pretty cool, you an ice elementalist, then?" He was interested in her specialty and still grinning at her. She nodded edging away slowly.

"Yes...it's more innate. I'm here to learn better control. I'm...sorry, I...I really have to go. Please, excuse me." She flushed and turned to go, even more flustered now. "Yeah 'course. But you should come show me what you can do sometime, I'd like to compare notes with another Icer." She blinked and turned back to him. "You...would?" Incredulously. "Sure thing. might be fun. But don't let me keep ya. By the way, I'm Kish, you got a name or should I just call ya 'hey you'?" "Oh..I My name is Saphira. It's nice to meet you, Kish." She offered a shy smile and turned again, this time hurrying off before he could call after her again and she lost her nerve.

She soon (too soon) found herself at Deaconess Shah's Office, the one used when she was doing whatever it was that needed doing and didn't require privacy (Presumably) She knocked, and waited, her heart in her throat. She would present herself, explaining what Jolie had done and admit her mistake and apologize. She would accept whatever punishment she got. She knew she had been wrong. This is what kept turning over and over in her racing mind as she waited......

Satariel Shah

Date: 2010-12-28 19:02 EST
The problem with locating the office of Satariel Shah is that it is a bit difficult to find. The long lonely hallway just past the dorms (Albion and Quillyan's room being the closest) ended in a narrow stairwell that led up to a clock face.

Dead end.

And one that demonstrated the passage of time quite clearly and evidently as the giant hands moved in a keeping of time that made little sense. Much like the bell tower of Perp Mis in West End, the timekeeping of the Deaconness appeared to be of a personal variety.

Time would pass.

Quite suddenly the face of the clock rolled to the side and revealed darkness beyond, a darkness that was suddenly split by the rapid emergence of the Mistress of Shades and Shards. She moved with a skittish disjointed quality (like something out of a Japanese Art horror movie), leaving burnt afterimages behind her.

Pale, unmoving and unblinking. She was an animated statue. No need to blink, nor to breathe. Her lack of movement underscored by the constant undulation of the shadows that twined about her. A slithering tendril and a blanketing cloud, and everything in between, they hugged and held to her, coalescing and unwinding, hungrily. And those with magical understanding could hear just the faintest sounds of foreign lands, smells that flickered in the deepest recesses of their minds.

A tilt of her head. Animatronic almost.

A slow lift of her lips. Doll-like and lacking any sense of warmth or authentic life.

Dark ochre, her gaze reflected back the image of the young trembling woman before her and finally she spoke.

"I know of your transgressions. You shall find your answers in the Glen of the FaePact Warlock. Go forth to VesperFey and find your redemption.

Or your end."

A skittering back and the clock face rolled shut.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-28 21:22 EST
The sliding clock had revealed the darkness from which the Deaconess had emerged. A frightening apparition of disjointed motion and unnatural images burned in the air in her wake. Saphira had not the time nor the will to attempt to explain herself, or why she was there. It seemed there was little to nothing mistress Shah did not know of.

I know of your transgressions

Saphira's heart stopped. She did not tremble though perhaps she should, she could not. Her eyes were locked on the deaconess, beautiful and terrible and devoid of emotion.

Go forth to VesperFey and find your redemption..or your end

The words echoed in her mind, had struck home with heavy finality, were indisputable. There was no questioning, no rebelling. Compliance was the only option. She could not say she was sorry when the brief audience ended, the feeling that swept over her as the deaconess skittered back to be swallowed by darkness again was not even relief, but rather a distinct absence of the abject terror the woman could instill with her very presence.

She would not be upset if she never had to face Shah again. Suddenly in the face of that woman her own haunting past seemed trivial, laughable. It was with alacrity she moved away from the clock and down the stairs past Albion and Quillian's room and through the dorms, heading for the nearest exit. She needed to be outside, needed to feel air in her fur. Something about that whole encounter made her feel as though everything wholesome, even the very air in her lungs had gone bad. And the smell...the scent she could not place it was foreign yet reeked of magic she could not place, did not know.

She fairly gasped, gulping for clean air as she burst through the door. The air had not of course been poisoned but her perceptions had certainly been skewed somehow. Worse was the niggling desire to understand it that began to taint the deep recesses of her unconscious mind. For several moments she simply breathed. When she had collected herself, she stood and turned toward the Glen of the FaePact Warlock. She did not know if she would be given chance to redeem herself or if she would be ended.
She knew somewhere deep within her there might be more to be gained than redemption if she could endure.

If she could endure

But would she be able? She must. She must. She walked with more confidence than she felt, the fog that was ever her accompaniment swirling around her entire body like a shroud. Though she knew it could do little to protect her, she drew comfort from it, felt strength in it. She found the cottage, and approached, as silently as any wraith might. The knock on the door bespoke bravery she did not feel. She pulled herself erect and held herself steady. Once again, she waited.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2010-12-29 12:52 EST
She'd gotten kind of used to Ivinia being gone on her little field trip and when the woman returned she was agitated by her presence.

Their blistering fight started over perfume.

Mystri had a sensitive nose and one that Ivinia assaulted daily with her veritable apothecary of lotions, perfumes, powders, and cosmetics.

But her newest perfume.

Their battle of wills had spilled out into the hallway, a snarling half blinded Mystri in a hybrid form chasing a screaming enchantment pouring Ivinia whose blandishments convinced any in the vicinity that her very life was in danger.

Later, Mystri would contend that she really wasn't going to eat the tart, hell she'd already tasted that over-ripe fruit.

Sartha broke the disaster up before it reached epic proportions and while he might've given the half-cat a shared look of pain at the reeking perfume that dripped off of her fur he delivered her before the stairs leading up to the Deaconness.

Her visit went eerily similar to Saphira's and with a snarl that threatened to rip off the face of any who looked closely, she stormed toward the cottage of one Vesper Fey.

Punishment indeed.

Ivinia better keep an eye out...Mystri possessed a very concrete sense of retribution.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2010-12-29 23:00 EST
Punishment.
(Part 1)

The soft knock upon the door drew my attention. Who? Vesper tilted her head and cooed the word aloud, "Who?" And it was echoed by the trio of owls that lined her bookshelves, though no life was to be found inside their petrified states, "Hoo? Hoo? Hoo?"

She took a breath and upon the exhalation her name: ?Saphira, Ma'am.? Not entirely certain the correct title, fog clinging tighter to her body in a reflection of nerves.

"Hmmm." The sound trilled from Vesper?s lips as she jumped up from her task of skinning the basilisk. She'd forgotten the intestines that she had pulled into her lap to be read and they fell to the ground with a SPLAT! of wet weight. "Ooh darn." They were warm upon her toes and she couldn't resist wiggling her toes into their gooey depths as steam rose up. She giggled. "Come in!" And the door flew wide to allow entrance into her cottage of assorted wonders (cluttered from floor to ceiling with the most outrageous of items there is barely room to walk and standing within the epicenter of the destruction would be a tiny little woman with wide fire-bright eyes, blood, a crimson slick stain down her dress and the carcass of a basilisk laid out on the table before her).

The first thing Saphira noted as she stepped into the cottage was the sharp scent of blood and the lingering after-air of life that had been shuffled loose the mortal coil. She was slight enough that she found little difficulty in entering or finding a place to stand without touching or otherwise disturbing anything. Eyes shifted quickly, unconsciously from human to lupine in an instant to allow better vision in the sudden change of light. ?Deaconess Shah has sent me for my...transgression..? Her voice was soft yet unwavering.

"I was just reading your fates." Madness flaring her eyes wide as she pointed toward the bloody pile at her feet. "Though it would seem I won't be able to now." She sunk her feet in deeper and spun about in a mad little cavortion of glee. Wiggling the blood and gore between her toes, "Now what should I do with you?" A cackle and her gaze landed squarely upon Saphira as she made the shift from human to lupine eyes. She froze. Her eyes bugging out of her head as she leaned her head forward. "What-what?!" "What is this that you do?" A step forward. "Pretty pretty, it is."

Saphira looked confused briefly. ? Ma'am?? She did not realize it was her eyes that had been noted and she toyed with a tuft of fur at her wrist. She stood stock still as this tiny woman leaned to inspect her, for something she was not entirely clear on. The fog ever-present wrapping tightly around her legs in tendrils creeping up slowly as though to comfort her icy fingers from which she drew some measure of bravery, ?I am afraid I do not know what I have done.?

A snap of her gaze upward as she was actually smaller than Saphira, built like a child, though there was nothing childlike about her actions. "Elementalist." A sniff. Disdainful. "But something so much more." Purred, an odd gutteral sound of glee as she leaned in and sniffed her, her own blood soaked fingers finding the fur at her wrist and tugging at it, "Lycan but not." She sung happily.

Mystriana so did not want to be anywhere near this area. She'd avoided Vesper and her madness easily enough up to this point in her education and she sincerely considered just cutting her losses and leaving. It's not like she had friends at this place. But a tropical memory cut her short. Maybe she did have a friend. And...nowhere else to go. Padding along the path to the cottage she picked her way carefully along the trail wary of any surprises. Arriving to the open door and the sight of Vesper dancing around one of the new girls.

Saphira blinked and resisted the urge to avert her gaze, not knowing where it was she found the voice to answer. ?Yes Ma'am..? She could feel the fur along her spine rising, not in anger nor fear but something she could hardly define, and was glad of the concealment of this fact her uniform offered. ? I am..honestly not certain what I am... ?

"Perfect. Perfect Perfect you are." Her singsong crescendoing as she petted her, nimble little hands running all along her arm and headed for her clothing. Only to blink up at the arrival of another. Suddenly reminded of their purpose here. "Oh yes yes, naughty. Naughty you were. Shameful retribution you shall have."

She was slightly confused at being called 'perfect' particularly when the entire reason she was here was for exacting revenge on one who had assailed her with slurs and insults and torment. She was slightly taken aback as it seemed her fur also was not a deterrent and was almost relieved when the distraction came.

"Clothes off." It was not a request. The diminutive woman obviously including the newly arrived Mystriana as she spun back to the dead basilisk with a vicious little sound of glee.

Pinned by the glare of the Groundskeeper Mystri said nothing while the wolfgirl remained her center of focus. Maybe the warlock would punish that one and forget about her? But it was not to be and she froze at the request. Naked? Arching a pierced brow and turning her mintgreen gaze to Saphira in question. Though she obeyed, fingers working through the buttons and the disrobing with familiar quickness.

An odd command to be certain, Saphira had never even bothered with clothing before the uniform and she reached up, unbuttoning her shirt and slipping out of it along with her skirt, socks and shoes. Her entire body was luxuriously furred white as snow save her face, palms and throat. Around her torso and hips it was thicker and longer, much like a lions mane and she was still very much concealed, despite the lack of fabric. She watched Vesper curiously, and left her hair bound, eyes flicking to the other girl, wondering briefly what had caused her to be sent here as well.

"Don't look in his eyes Girls, he's a dead catch this one." She cackled as she stroked the basilisk. Turning back to crow in glee at the furred sight of Saphira, rushing forward to pet her, busy little hands gliding all about. "Soooo pretty. So perfect." She almost wished she didn't have to punish this one. A look around her at the other young woman, maybe she'd just kill that one and the Deaconess would be happy?

Naked, she had to admit this was the strangest encounter she'd had since arriving at the school. A frown furrowing as Vesper seemed quite taken with the wolfgirl and a definite shudder at the cold assessing gaze that landed upon her. She considered clearing her throat, asking about the punishment, even pleading her case, but it was all beginning to pale with the idea of darting out that door and never coming back.

Saphira looked down at her feet, the neat pile of clothing there filling her gaze as she focused (Or tried very hard) on that instead of the rather intense petting. She fought the urge to growl at the woman, though the fur along her spine rose at the feeling of violation she'd never endured anything like this in her life and was rather distraught.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2010-12-29 23:28 EST
The Punishment.
(Part 2)
The madwoman bounced back on her feet, rocking and cooing. "Well then. I suppose I should give you the lecture." She blinked about and seemed to come a little more into focus, though she kept rubbing her fingers over her lips and getting distracted. "Yes, oh yes, that's it. Bad Girls. Shame upon your worthless little heads. Disobeying the rules. Operating outside of acceptable parameters of conduct." Her tone was growing more severe, her madness receding as she apparently became more cognizant the more she went on. "Killing someone's familiar." She snarled at Saphira, "Should I allow your victim to kill yours perhaps?" A tilt of her head. "Attacking a roommate!" She glared at Mystriana, "Should I, perhaps, let her attack you?"

Mystri resisted the urge to snort. She'd like to see Ivinia try it. But this didn't seem the time or place for such a comment so instead she hung her head, a sheath of platinum and pink strands concealing her reaction. Though a few choice curse words bounced around in her head, if that little tart got her killed over a bottle of perfume...

Saphira was experiencing her own surge of emotions. She was growing almost...angry though she fumed silently. She hadn't even had a chance to defend herself. There was a faint creaking of bone but nothing more. She'd been directly threatened and had to clean up a disemboweled dog corpse! didn't that matter? She fairly screamed silently as she stood tough her fists clenched and her nails dug into her palms.

"Yes. I do believe I know the solution." Vesper turned about and smiled at them both, all sweetness, "Lovely lovely little pretties."

"A lesson needs to be learned. Most indeed."

Saphira held her breath, looking aside to Mystriana in hopes she might know what was going to happen, though her mouth remained a tight thin line.

That sounded ominous. Mystri?s head came up, a hint of fright that she was attempting to hide, though the shared look with Saphira went a long ways toward forging a bond with someone. Quite suddenly she needed a friend about as badly as the other girl seemed to. She took a step forward to put herself closer to her, though did not go so far as to take her hand.

Vesper began to cast. The dark sound of her chanting was painful to hear, the words an ancient unseelie language that engaged in the listener the sense of nails across chalkboards and screaming pained children. To listen too closely was to invite madness.

The sound to Saphira was terrible, her sensitive ears assailed by the sounds of chanting was almost torture all by itself. She clapped her hands to her ears flinching as a soft whine escaped almost under her breath, suspiciously lupine in nature. It did no good though as she could still hear it.

A step forward as Vesper pulled a vine from about her neck, prying one of Saphira's hands from her ears with surprising strength and gathering their wrists together and twining it about. One hand each, joining them in a dark ritual that would twist and torque at their souls. "You shall be bound together in your plight." She intoned. "What one feels, so shall the other. One's choice will so effect the other." Her mad eyes lit upon Mystri's, "This shall teach you the power of connection. She shall be your 'roommate' in this sense, and you shall learn what it is to assist another." A glance toward Saphira, "And you shall know the pain of losing a familiar," A small smile growing to reveal that her teeth are sharpened and filed into points, "...unless.."

Mystri too cringed beneath the weight of that tongue, resisting the urge to squirm and flee. The girl's whine wanted to be echoed in her own throat and she clamped her lips tight to keep such a sound from emerging. As they were bound together she found she could not move, a panicked glance for the exit revealing an intent she could not act upon.
Saphira could not resist this woman's grasp as she found her wrist being bound to Mystri's the her eyes flickered up to Vesper in a trembling whisper, ?Unless...??Not knowing how she managed the word.

"You and your bondmate find success in your bonding." A flick of her gaze upward revealing the starlit expanse of the sky above the hole in her cottage's roof, "Even now, my sweet, your familiar is delivered into the hands of the one you have harmed. Should you get there in time, you might rescue your preshusss...though I warn you this." A glare fell harsh upon Mystri, "Harm another student and your life is forfeit."
An odd sensation would strike both the girls as they became opened to each other's emotions.

?Lune?...Jolie has Lune??? There was a sudden hatred echoing in her voice and she looked at Mystri almost with a panic in her lupine eyes before back to Vesper, and as that sensation opened her she felt an odd echo of her own fear and turmoil of someone she did not understand.

"What?" She couldn't contain the shocked tone as her mind whirled through the madwoman's proclamation. "But, h-?" Her words were cut off as she realized that the fear and anger that welled inside her was not solely her own. She growled. And it was as animalistic as Saphira's. Fury was fast discarded as she clawed at the bonds that held them together and freed them quickly, "Come on. Let's get your damn owl." She was pissed, how in the hell were they supposed to get Lune from the psycho little b***h Jolie without hurting the vampiress?

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2010-12-29 23:31 EST
Punishment
(Part 3)

Saphira helped loosen the vine and was too happy to hastily retreat even as she did bones began breaking and snapping as flesh rent tore and rewove muscles rearranging over a new skeletal structure and internal organs moved to accommodate as she emerged from the cottage she was no longer human but an enormous wolf.

Mystri was already shifting herself, the fluid motion of her transformation nowhere near Saphira's. She'd meant to take on the form of the great white cat that was her normal when speed was necessary; yet, somehow the wolfgirl's influence had altered her casting and she emerged a white wolf. Her head lifting back on a baying howl of warning as she sniffed for the scent of the vampiress.

Jolie was even now looking for a little vengeance and had been prowling the grounds near the shed that Saphira claimed as her own when a burst of magical energy had swept through the air. An owl's pained cry carrying on the wind before it landed in a fluff of feathers not but a few feet from her. Her gaze lit with an unholy surge as she recognized the familiar of her target.

Saphira was surprised as she saw the transformation, but it was good enough. The howl that ripped from her throat was unholy and she raced full tilt, knowing Jolie would seek Lune at his roost her shed. Instinct and an intimate familiarity of Jolie's reek confirmed what she suspected and there was a writhing trail of fog interweaving around and within her body as she ran, at tomes she didn't even touch the groud, evaporating entirely to appear further ahead than she should have been able to do.

The shapeshifter could not travel in that manner though she did run full out and add her howl in warning to Saphira's.

Jolie had just crouched over the body of the still breathing and only stunned owl. Her lips pulling back from her fangs when their combined howls reached her ears. It didn't sound as if Saphira were alone. She hesitated before remembering that the cur had retaliated upon her own familiar. Fury ringed her eyes and she drew her ritual dagger.
Saphira burst into the small clearing, knowing Mystri would be hot on her heels. She snarled and snapped as she charged. Her aim was to surprise her and perhaps buy time or even separate her from Lune. The enormous beast looked as though she fully intended to rip Jolie's body to shreds, and though Saphira would dearly like to, she feinted instead.

Mystri tore directly after the young wolfgirl and as Saphira lunged at the crouched Vampiress she followed her charge, giving the impression that the woman had somehow split herself into two wolves who were quite willing to rip her to shreds. The fog that twined around her body was now wrapping Mystri's as well trailing her movements as it did her own, further giving the illusion she had somehow split in two.

Jolie looked up at the ravenous sound of the wolf approaching all prepared to laugh off her pitiful attempts to whine and plead for her familiar and froze in shock at the vicious and frightening beast that barreled in at her. Shocked she dropped the ritual dagger and offered a startled sound that infuriated her, "You bitch!" But the appearance of a second wolf robbed her of whatever indignation she might've mustered, falling back on her ass in the snow. "Stop! Stop it or I'll tell!"

As Saphira's first run had frightened Jolie into dropping the dagger, she swept up the injured bird in her loose maw, careful not to hurt it further.
Saphira stepped deliberately, slowly forward until she was but a foot from Jolie as Mystri made the save. She growled, thunder deep in her chest and the icy glare was clear. She would be all to happy to kill her and feign ignorance. The snarl punctuated by a snap made it clear. The tormenting and the threats would stop, or she would be the one doing the telling and she doubted very much Mistress Shah would be so kind.

Jolie was a b***h but she was far from stupid. The scared little cur that hid out here by herself in her shed was one thing. This pissed off creature with snarling wolfish powers and an indignant air was something else entirely. She drew herself up in an attempt to look less frightened, "Don't think I won't forget who killed my familiar, you cur," And in the pattern of bullies everywhere she chose to forget that she was the one that started all of this.

Mystri shifted into her human form hidden in the blanket of the fog by Saphira's casting. And stepped free from within so as not to reveal that the other wolf form was her she circled the distracted vampiress and said from the other side ofher, "And don't think Saphira's friends won't be watching her back, you fangtoothed harpy."

An incantation called up an illusion and from the shed appeared the leaning figure of Albion Sepherock, his red hair shifting back and forth on his shoulders as he frowned in disapproval. Illusion really wasn't Mystri's strong suit so she kept him well back from detection and clear eyesight.
Saphira was enraged at the slight and to get her point across she shifted once more, bones breaking and reforming to create the imposing lycan form muscles rippling and bulging as sinew rewove yet again there was nothing remotely feminine about this wall of fur and muscle she took a single step forward, leaned down until she was directly in front of Jolie's face and roared as Mystri informed her that she would be watched.

Fear was a powerful motivator and with a poof Jolie disappeared in an inky cloud that emitted a bat. Working her wings in desperation to escape the clearing. The stun spell on Lune was wearing off and the owl began to flutter where it had been placed out of harm's way by Mystriana.
Saphira snorted softly as though she'd gotten a whiff of rotting death and trash before retaking her more diminutive form and rushing to embrace Mystri in gratitude and to ensure Lune was still alive. ?Thank you!? Her eyes glimmering with heartfelt thanks.

Mystriana felt the surge of the other woman's emotions and was surprised to feel the shimmer of tears in her eyes. The usual pissy shapeshifter gamely returning the hug and a choked up, "Yea, you bet."



(Thank you for the FABULOUS FUN! Adapted from Liveplay and began in Vesper's Vignettes)

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-12-30 12:36 EST
{The Central Library, yet to return to his Dormitory}

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

The yawn that sprung from his stretched mouth was colossal in potency as he glanced at the huge grandfather clock resting against the far wall. Though he was completely across the library he could read it easily thanks to its massive face and titanic hands. It was well into the evening, a couple of hours beyond midnight, and if Albion had any intention of sleeping he would have to pack up and return to the Dorm soon.

Still, the formula of the Deanimation Ray loomed before him, scattered amongst the jumbled symbols before him, and the one thing he couldn't find with sleep was the correct principle of this particular spell's casting.

Kish had deciphered the ray in three hours and sixteen minutes.

Albion was nearing the three hour mark and had but half of it completed. He couldn't help the sigh that followed.

He nearly jumped out of his seat as he felt the touch of cold hands slide over his shoulders and down his chest, though before he could move a single muscle lips were pressed against his neck directly behind his ear.

"Awwww," The feminine voice teased. "Lookie who I found all alone."

He tried to turn his head though could not as the press of the face into the flank of his neck kept him still. With his eyes he searched the peripheral to see if he could catch a hint as to whom it was that had him, but all he could make out was dark hair and pale skin. "Your jest is not appreciated." He said with a somewhat shaky voice. "I have tons of work to do."

"Don't you always?" She revealed herself then as she slipped around him, sliding between he and the table to take a perch upon his lap, her slender arms wreathed around his neck.

"Jolie?" His tone lifted, evidence of his surprise. That explained the strength and the quickness.

She splayed her lips in a sugary smile, revealing straight white teeth save for the two elongated incisors. "Absolutely, red. How's it going?"

Instinctively he had leaned away, crushed hard against the back of the chair, his chin slanted so that he didn't face her, though he still watched out of the corner of his eye. "I'm actually rather busy." His tone finding a harshness that expressed her interruption.

Her laughter mocked his suggestion and she crossed her legs, a simple movement that spilled her dress apart to reveal the buttery span of her bare thighs. "You know what I like about you, Albion?" She tilted her head. "Actually, do you know what everyone likes about you?"

He didn't look down. In fact, he looked completely away from her, focusing on a distant artifact put on display within the library. "No, though I feel that you are going to enligh-"

"Your hair." She chimed in, her hands reaching up to delicately twine within it. "Everyone likes your big red hair, Albion." Before he could reply she clenched her hands into fists and yanked it back, lifting his chin toward the ceiling. In the same motion she raised up on his lap so that her face hovered just inches from his. "I know I do." She nearly purred.

He tensed, the contortion of his features with the sharp pain of his hair being used as puppet strings quickly diminishing beneath the threat of her fangs looming so nearby. He should have been able to feel her breath with how close she was, though she was a Vampire and had no use for air. "Let go of me." He said low in his throat. He was already working on a spell to help her if need be, though the slivers of fear that surged through his limbs dimmed his focus just a shade.

She sniffed him, crinkling her nose and peeling back her lips, and in that moment Albion thought she had never looked more feral. "You stink." She said suddenly. "You stink like wolf and owl."

Wolf and Owl?

Memories, realization, came flooding back in. Earlier that evening while having dinner with Mystri and Saphira they had told him about their altercation with Jolie, and how Vesper had bound them together to overcome their transgression. Suddenly he was well aware of Jolie's meaning. "I'm going to say it one more time, Jolie, and then I'm going to assist you. Let go of me."

The bestial features of her visage softened, returning to their beatific normality, and in response to his threat she laughed again, sliding from his legs with a suggestive little wiggle. "Did I strike a nerve, red? That's alright. I figured you'd be all heartfelt and concerned about your friends. But I like your hair, so I figured I'd let you know first." She narrowed her eyes. "Stay away from them. You won't want to be around when I decide to get a little payback."

He turned in his seat. "Are you suggesting that-"

....she was gone.

Ivinia Delirian

Date: 2010-12-30 15:27 EST
She'd overdone it.

It was an accident really. Sometimes when she got caught up in her natural ability to enchant others she lost track of whole potent she was.

She'd been irritated by Mystriana's incessant complaining and when the shapeshifter had blown off her invitation to 'take the edge off' she'd admittedly lost her temper. She knew Mystri's sensitive nose couldn't handle the expensive perfumes she preferred but she was deliberately goading her. And then...

...well as far as fights go it would've ended with the normal cooldown time and make up sex if it weren't for her overblown glamour. She'd just wanted those students in the halls to assist her, she didn't really mean to convince everybody in the area that Mystri was trying to really kill her.

She really was going to have to fix things...she just didn't know where to begin.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2010-12-30 23:14 EST
Bondmates. Friends. In a way, sisters it would seem. Saphira and Mystri had been bonded as punishment by the frighteningly unhinged Vesper Fey. It had been meant as a punishment, consequence to a gross error oh her part, and an understandable offended reaction on Mystri's. Why then, did it feel almost like a blessing? With the exception of Jolie, the other students had been relatively friendly, though not particularly close with her. She had not been intentionally excluded in anything, and had even on numerous occasions been greeted by her peers.

But she had still felt outside of it all. Like a wanderer peering in on a stranger's warm home life. She could see it, but she had not been able to really touch it. She'd wanted to yes, but had not known where to even begin. So she kept to herself, attended class, studied and focused on Lune's company. In the rare moments she had some peace and had not been tormented by Jolie, it was she and Lune. And now Mystri.

Through the ordeal she had begun to feel new things, now bonded to another, she was gaining understanding. No longer completely alone on the fringe, she could feel the warmth she'd looked in on for so long. It had just taken a drastic circumstance. She was not sorry for killing the wolf, but grateful for her own mistake for in so doing she had gained what she had so desperately longed for. Someone to relate to.

She had a shallow understanding before of affection, as she felt for Lune, though it was strong it was not the same as the intricate and complicated relationships people held with one another. She was beginning to get a glimmer of that also. Things she had asked questions about and from her cold outsider's perspective could not understand because she had never felt it. There had been no love in her short life, no parents, no friends. There had been a cage, torment, and alienation. She grew up knowing nothing but bitterness and hatred.

This was all new. She felt like she was drowning, like she was floating, like she was a million different things she could not name. Fear and fury and elation. Joy, and sorrow, there was a wholeness, a filled place she had not realized had been empty. It had been so for such a long time it had become natural, second nature. Now there was something else and she wondered how she had been so blind, not realized how much she had really been lacking. The gentle feelings she now felt, understood only served to foster her instinctual feelings of loyalty.

Her friends were her 'pack' and she nurtured the feeling of connection. Without Mystri, she might never have understood. Now she was beginning to. She was often confused when she was alone and felt emotions that were not her own, or when she awoke from a dream that could not have been of her conception, places she remembered she'd never been to, but upon searching them out on maps, confirming they were real. It was bittersweet, and she was thankful.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2010-12-31 00:47 EST


At this hour, the halls were sparsely populated. A concerned student face or two, immersed in the intricate working of some spell or another, passed like solitary visions along the long and mostly-empty corridors. Quillyan cursed herself softly, fretting the hours until daylight, wondering how she could reasonably spilt them between study and dreaming. As she rounded the corner toward the dormitory wing, the last thing she expected was the shuddering form perched upon the picturesque windowsill overlooking the Southern Glen.

?Jolie?? she blurted incredulously, her lithe form arresting step in mid-stride. The other student wasn?t a welcome presence, but during their involuntarily pairing in Smout?n?s class, they had managed to arrive at a reasonable understanding, due mostly to Jolie?s talent in the field and Quillyan?s ability to tolerate absurd self-righteousness.

?Jolie,? the novice repeated, drawing a intrepid step closer to the other figure. Jolie, for her part, offered a halfhearted attempt at hiding tears. ?Are you...okay??

?He?s dead, Quilly,? moaned the young vampiress, the chill of her voice clashing thrillingly with the familiar appellation. In an uncharacteristic timidness, Jolie?s tormented and glistening eyes never managed to fully meet those of the other student?s, so absorbed was she in her wretched mourning.

?Who, Jolie?? Quillyan knew she shouldn?t ask, but the stillness of the hallways demanded some response, and she could think of nothing better.

?My familiar!? wailed Jolie, drawing a mutilated paw from her cloak. Quilly?s eyes, all brilliant blue with a touch of naivet?, widened at the macabre token, at the matted blood and jutting bone.

?S**t,? she murmured. ?What happened??

?Saphira,? the other girl managed, her voice weakened by the intensity of her emotion. ?The wolf-girl. Do you know her??

Quillyan paused a moment, bewildered by the connection. ?Yes. I met her a few nights ago. She...did this??

?She?s wicked, Quilly. Since she?s new, she?s trying to establish dominance or something. That?s how those wolves work, making themselves known. Have to be all alpha or something.?

She nodded, even though she knew little of the habits of such creatures. Seeing Jolie in such a state aroused enough curiosity to want her to continue speaking, if only for the insight into her corrupt character. She laid a couple of tentative fingers on her chilly and shaking shoulder.

?She?s wicked, just rotten.? Jolie repeated, daring to turn those sorrow-reddened orbs towards the other student. ?In fact, I heard that just last night, she was spotted holding Albion?s hand in the Inn.?

Surprise and jealousy, in a sudden surge, hit the red-haired witch like a vicious slap, but her fair features maintained a measured serenity.

?Oh?? Vague and brief. A diplomatic choice of word.

?Yeah,? said the vampire, barely suppressing a foul grin. ?I thought I?d heard from the gossip that you and he were a ?thing.??

The reply waited several heavy seconds, building significance in anticipation. ?I thought we were as well,? she finally managed.

?Well, not if she can help it.? Jolie rose to her full height, advancing on her peer with the compelling catastrophe of an injured serpent. ?You have to help me, Quilly. We have to do something. We have to get rid of her.?

?Shouldn?t you inform the administration? I mean...? Quillyan stammered a little, the tension evident in her frozen posture, ?...shouldn?t this be a disciplinary thing??

?Ha!? Jolie snarled, her frigid fingertips curling around the sculptural and sleek bones of Qulllyan?s shoulders. ?I did! And the administration gave her some ceremonial slap on the wrist. No, Quil, they leave it up to us to settle our scores. They expect it.?

?Okay.? Her voice was small.

?You?ll help me get revenge??

It was a difficult query. Desperate for a familiar herself, Quillyan was empathetic enough to imagine the suffering if one were gained and lost. Compound this with a generous dash of teenage envy, and resentment was the obvious product.

?Yeah, I?ll help.?

?Oh, wonderful, Quilly!? In a contrived and unnatural gesture, Jolie wrapped her in a sisterly hug. ?I?m so glad... someone...is on my side. You?re better than all of them, Quil. You?re smarter than they are.?

Stunned by the embrace and praise, she failed to respond, her graceful form a stiff board against the chilly coil of other limbs.

?That?s what I like about you, Quil. You?re smart.? A couple of bloodless fingers threaded through her riotous ruby curls. ?Well, that and your red hair. Anyway, don?t tell anyone about this. You don?t want to seem...? Jolie paused, ill-fortune twisting her frosty features, ?...jealous, you know? No one likes that.?

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2010-12-31 13:13 EST
{And hour and a half later, in the library}

He jolted, he gasped, awakening in that moment akin to emerging from deep water in need of breath. Wide green eyes darted around, both sides and up, unsure of his bearings and his location.

Clarity came in a slow wave, and suddenly it was clear. He was in the library still, though it was late, much later than the last time he looked at that grandfather clock. Much later since...

...Jolie.

He wiped at his mouth with his finger and thumb as he gathered his things together. There were only a couple of hours left until he needed to be up, which left Albion conceding that sleep was going to evade him until the following night. That wasn't too bad, he had pulled all-nighters before, but there was just something different about this one. Something dangerous was in the air.

He gathered his jacket from the back of his chair and slid his arms into it, slinging his satchel over his shoulder once it was full of his tomes and texts. With his hands plunged into his pockets he started for the door, resigned to the fact that his day would be long and tedious.

Fingertips tingled as they collided with a small trinket housed in his jacket pocket, warm with magic. He took hold and drew it out with a thin brow arched in inquiry .

The hairpin.

Quillyan's hairpin.

But why would it be warm? The conundrum weighed heavily upon him as the only magic fastened to it was a location charm, and even that was only enacted by Albion's command. He had examined the item thoroughly upon...obtaining it...and knew that it held no other mystic properties.

He flipped it over in his hand and tucked it away. Perhaps it was the combination of the extremely late night and his little chit-chat with Jolie, but the sense of peril loomed everywhere. His step quickened as he made his way for his room.


*******************************************

Albion was careful to evade Sartha, though this meant that he would have to take the winding halls through the Northern wing and not the quick and familiar route from the library. This also meant that he would walk right by the ascending stairs that led to Deaconess Shah's clock face, though that didn't bother him. The Deaconess was far too busy with running the School to worry about him wandering around the halls. After all, that's why she had the big blue Minotaur.

He pushed the door open quietly to not wake Quilly and closed it with the same care, though was surprised to find that her bed was empty, as was their room.

She was gone.

Again his hand plunged into his pocket to finger the pin, and for a fleeting moment he considered using it. It was far too late for her to be rummaging around, and for all he knew she was face down in a ditch being sucked dry by the crazy Vampire who had met with him earlier.

He weighed the options. They had been so busy that spending any time together as of late was nearly impossible. For all he knew her schedule had changed and every Thursday night would be like this. He couldn't go chasing her around to make sure she was alright, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Could he?

Again he fingered the pin.

Finally he shed his apprentice attire and crawled into his bed, determined to use these last few hours before the sun came up to get at least some sleep. It seemed that this severe case of torpidity was leading to near paranoia.

He'd meet up with Quilly soon, a day at most, and make sure she was alright.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-01 22:30 EST
(After a live role play)

She had left the commons abruptly. The combination of her first experience with alcohol and the anger of being lied to and the utter confusion of a mixture of emotions that were not entirely her own.
Bewilderment. Confusion. fury She was enraged. Quilly was acting like a cat in heat to taunt her with...with what?

She didn't understand. Didn't even understand emotions she felt raging through her. Because they weren't entirely her own. They were Mystri's too.

She slipped through the grounds undetected by Sartha, but not entirely undetected. Kish had seen her and followed wondering what a wolf was doing on school grounds. He didn't know who it was. Saphira was followed to her own place of solitude. Kish stopped just out of sight staying in the tree line to watch this creature wreathed in flaming ice. He'd never seen the like.

She moved to the middle of her little glade, never knowing she'd been followed. She stood head held high howling a serenade to the moon. A love song, a dirge. A nameless emotion lost in a tumultuous sea of emotions. Without warning a breeze picked up, sweeping around the little glade. subtle at first then with growing frenzy. Her feet were rooted to the earth. Literally. Her lower legs were becoming bark-like and roots had split the earth.

The flame that consumed her without burning her crackled and twisted higher. freezing and burning both at once. Fog thickened through the clearing, taken up by the torrential wind at the edges obscuring much of Kish's view. He had to cling to a tree, muttering a soft incantation to form a barrier to the violent display he was witnessing. He could not look away. What was this creature?

Another howl and the wolf's body began contorting horribly. Bone audibly broke, muscles tore and re-knit, organs re-arranged. The sight was both intensely grotesque and awe-inspiring. In moments Saphira stood, clad in nothing but her fur, arms raised as her hair whipped wildly in the wind. Kish caught his breath suddenly. The girl he'd met in the hall!

He had no idea she could do this. His fascination was plain, eyes locked on this diminutive female, fur and hair caught in frenzied chaos. Every element was represented. He could not believe it. Without warning the expenditure of so much energy took it's toll and all at once everything stopped and Saphira collapsed in the snow, unmoving. Now the violence was past he couldn't just leave her there.

Kish Hurried to her and knelt. "Hey...Saph...hey...Saph can you hear me?"
Nothing. She was out cold. Lucky thing her quarters were right here and she was lighter than she looked. He picked her up and carried her to the converted shed. He managed to get her blanket pulled back and settled her in her bed just in time to hear feathers rustle softly and Lune's "Who?" Almost questioning who Kish was, and what was he doing with his mistress?

Lune got a lopsided apologetic grin. "She fainted, ya know? I wasn't gonna leave her in the snow. You watch her now, yeah?" And with that he hurried out and toward the school. He went in search of his friend, Albion. he had to tell someone what he just saw. "I can't believe it..!"

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-02 14:55 EST
Anger had a way of burning away a haze of alcohol. He was indeed very angry, but more at himself. He wanted to be sure. He had to be sure. Yes, she was sending off mixed signals and it was hurting him on so many levels.

Another that saw him as a friend or a big brother. Fine that's what he would be. The anger receeded a bit, but was still there, still being fed by his other half. The demon poked and prodded his already shredded ego andadded to the humiliation he was already feeling. He even blocked his twin from his mind. He didn't need her input.

He knelt at the small altar murmured a quiet pray as he brought his ritual anatheme across his palm. He could have sworn Slaanesh was having fun at his expense.

He let a couple of hours pass to let the anger recede and to center himself fully. He could not return to his suite in a full rage. It would not be safe for his roommate and she certainly did not deserve the brunt of it.

Then again, he wasn't sure he wanted to face her either. He was not comfortable with the fact he knew she still cared about Uziya. There were times he wanted to comfort her, and yet he stopped unsure of the welcome. Especially with her own words of being with Brais. He thought he knew otherwise, but the question lingered and left him cold.

He was truly tired of the games. If they wanted a bastard, he could surely oblige. He stood from the altar, his hand fully healed over. Without thinking about it, he stepped into the shadows to travel back to his dorm room. He was already breaking curfew so he used the one path that Sartha could not access.

He stepped into the shared common room of the suite and looked around. Was he going to be slapped down again?

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-02 18:14 EST
(Late that night after the party in the Commons)

She knew why she avoided the parties. Not a very social creature she found herself smack in the middle of one and drinking champagne for the first time. What was it about the smoothtalking bard that had her seated at the table with Blizzard about to be ambushed by a party?

And then to have it all go so ...

What was Quilly's problem? She had never had a problem with the girl but her insinuations that Saphira was out of line had pushed the hard edge of her temper. She'd been so irritated she'd left without her damn book. A book that she'd need Albion's help deciphering. And now she wanted nothing to do with him. His allegiance to the little drama stirrer was duly noted.

She'd needed time to cool off but hadn't made it very far when she'd felt Saphira's rage and pain. It was strange this bond between them. Racing back she'd found Saphira half drunk and fighting for control. It took everything in her not to glide back inside that party and wreak havoc. She could smell Ivinia inside, and Xera's fiery laugh had underscored the sheer stupidity of giving Saphira anything alcoholic. And then, the icing, Quillyan and Albion making out for the world to see.

She was still pissed.

The run with Saphira had not taken much of the edge off and when she returned it was to discover Kish leaving her shed. She'd followed him with the intent to slit his throat if he'd harmed her but found Saphira sleeping soundly beneath Lune's watchful eye.

Murderous still she went to confront Xera. Fury licked at her steps and upon her arrival outside Xera's door she was distracted by the soothing sounds of the Bard's crooning. He was singing and the music washed over her, dragged her under, and left her suspended in the beauty.

Lost, her anger dripping from her, she settled in the hall to listen.

Soothed.

**********************

An hour later she shook herself to awareness, startled to discover that she'd lost track of time. No longer enraged she only felt tired. Her anger at Xera uncovered to be misplaced blame. She felt guilty for leaving Saphira to deal with the others and recognized now that the anger was at herself for allowing too many people inside. A half smile curved her pierced lips as she wandered away from the bard's room, unaware that a new student watched her with murder in her eyes.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2011-01-02 18:29 EST
{About the same time.}

Blissful ignorance. Probably the best words to describe the bard's understanding of the situation. All he'd been doing involved singing in the shower. A nice, hot, relaxing shower. Sensualist that he was, long showers on the school's dime always seemed a keen idea.

Only after he'd stopped, quite some time later, did he stop to think about the party, and the developments he'd witnessed.

"Merde, but you and I need to have a talk, roomie," he muttered under his breath. "Burlas que por diversi?n es una cosa, pero siguen siendo completamente ignorante de las posibles consecuencias... Simplemente no en absoluto."

Hey, at least it kept his mind off of Monday's meeting with the newly-arrived Mistress of Bardcraft. Mostly.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-02 22:52 EST
Deciphering Hidden Meanings

In a much calmer state of mind Mystri sought a solution to her problem. The ancient draconic text she?d lifted from Kysinya?s was only accessible by the most brilliant of minds and Albion...a snarl twisted her lips again and with a huff she flounced back in a seat in the Commons. She was tired, cranky, and out of sorts and the soothing effects of Esteban?s singing was an hour past. Like a beacon the symbols that were bothering her shifted to her mind again. Her find beneath the waters of a lagoon in the realm of Twilight Island was fast driving her mad. She?d shown Albion and he was the one who had mentioned that the runes seemed vaguely familiar that he remembered seeing them in Kysinya?s library and sure enough she?d found the tome with hopes of showing it to him before everything went to crap...

Unaware that she was scratching the runes into the tabletop with an elongated claw she was startled when Kish offhandedly whistled, ?Whoo, studying a dead draconic language, that?s serious stuff.?

Her gaze shot upward, ?You can read this??

The boyish features creased into a mocking face, ?Can?t everybody?? Obviously teasing.

She wasn?t in the mood for teasing, ?Can you or can?t you, Kish??

Her vehemence threw him and he stepped closer to stare over her shoulder at it, ?Well, I could with a little time I think, I mean it?s really not too different from the long forgotten tri??

She jumped up excitement lighting a fire, ?I have something I want to show you.? Ready to drag him off to the Island.

?Whooaa, I?ve got class first thing in the morning and it?s already really late, I was headed to bed.?

?Tomorrow then??

?Uhh,? He furrowed his brow, ?Umm, I?ve got a block free in the late afternoon.?

She had class then but this suddenly seemed much more important than reviewing the history of conjuration. ?Tomorrow it is then.? Her smile a fleeting thing as she settled back in the chair.

Kish nodded and took a step away before looking over his shoulder at her, ?Hey, aren?t you going to get some sleep??

She nodded, a brief image of her bed taunting before the image of Ivinia speared it, ?Yea I?m good.?

?You know if you need a place to stay...there?s room in mine and Akemi?s place.?


And that?s how she ended up rooming that night with Akemi and Kish. She caught herself telling them all about the secret cache of magically infused gems that she had discovered beneath the waters of the lagoon. And soon she was filling them in on the rune covered smooth stone sheet that Albion had uncovered on their last visit. If every time Albion?s name came up she growled a little, well it was to be expected, she was still angry...

************
She stirred, a sleepy lassitude of honeyed surrender infusing her limbs.

She felt good.

So good.

His lips were soft, velvety confections that brought sweet shudders of pleasure tingling through her. The warm pressure of his mouth upon hers drew a soft whimper of encouragement. And he answered by parting her lips with his tongue. The kiss went on for what seemed an eternity, his hands gliding over her body and helping her remove her clothes. She was willing, relaxed and growing more desperate with each passing second.

The warm weight of his body braced above hers was divinely appeasing at the same time it incited her to want more, so much more.

She pulled at his shirt, breaking the kiss to help him remove it. As it was tossed to the side he bent back over her to rain kisses down the column of her throat, over the gentle sweep of her collarbones, descending further to burn a trail of needy desire.

Awareness came in slow degrees, fighting against the billowing arousal that weighed her limbs. Her lashes parted and Mystri was granted the sight of scarlet hair spilling over her naked breasts. Something registered, a niggling sensation of worry. She frowned, her sleepy fingers twining in those silken tresses and pulling gently. Albion?

Albion looked up at her with hunger burning in his gaze, his lips turned upward as he queried in a sex roughened voice, ?Do you not like it??

Oh, she liked it alright, the grind of his body on hers sending sparking waves of heat coalescing through her to combat that odd twinge of discontent. Albion was not...she did not...They were friends not lovers.

His lips descended to her breasts again and she moaned, wrapping her arms about him, nails scoring a path on his shoulders. Hungrily he plied her with his own needs and her head rolled back and forth on the pillow. Through her parted lashes she made out furnishings that were unfamiliar. Blinking it into focus she fought the surge of need that his descending mouth created, her benumbed mind trying to make sense of something...this was Kish?s room. What were she and Albion doing on the floor in Kish?s room?

The idea was enough to puncture the enchantment that had weighted her limbs. She gasped as his weight redistributed atop her, his body pinning her to the floor, her thighs spread for the culminating act of the very real arousal that still lingered. Albion?s hungry mouth drew down to hers and she felt the prodding that signified an answer to the throbbing need that robbed her of breath...and that?s when it hit her. The smell...the smell was all wrong.

She snarled. Her body going rigid. A shifting of her features as fangs elongated and she reached up to grab his neck, scrambling to her feet and spinning about him, effectively bowing his body back on his knees, her hot angry breath vicious on his exposed throat, ?Tell me why I shouldn?t rip your throat out.?

Akemi slowly let the illusion drop, his body rigid with fear, even as he answered shortly, ?Because if you injure one more student your life is forfeit. Everybody knows it.?

She snarled and pushed back from him, shoving him down as she scrambled backwards. A quick glance revealed Kish sound asleep on his bed.

Akemi picked himself up off the floor, a sweet faced boy really. Dusting himself off, he noticed the direction of her gaze: ?He won?t wake up. He uses a necromantic spell to guarantee his sleep, shortens the amount of time he needs to be out to recuperate, but it makes him extremely vulnerable.? He seemed to be gaining a surety and confidence that mocked her.

?I should kill you.?

?But we both know you won?t.? And he smiled, a delicate thing, so pretty on his angelic face.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she gathered up her things, so angry she trembled with it. He watched her, reclining back on his bed.

She paused with a hand on her door, ?Why?? A question blazing through the revulsion and the anger.

He laughed, ?Mystri you?re hot.?

She snapped a glare around at him that promised death should he toy with her further, ?No. Not that. Why Albion??

His laugh resounded again, no fear of awakening the deeply slumbering Kish, ?Because he?s the one person you talk about with any kind of heat. You?re quite pissed off at him. Have you stopped to question why??

?Fuck you Akemi, you don?t know shit.? She ripped open the door and turned around to glare at the smug man, ?And if you ever try this shit again, I won?t care about the repercussions.?

And it was a promise.

The door slammed. Kish slept on oblivious and Akemi only smiled, turning to the spirit that no one ever saw but him to gloatingly purr, ?Almost an even dozen.?

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-02 23:03 EST


She woke early: much earlier than normal - earlier than even the sun, who was still tucked beyond the horizon, offering only a hint of rosy hue along the edges of the sky.

She woke next to Albion, her bare limbs entangled with his, pale upon pale, their soft and slender bodies a nest of fond warmth.

She woke in confusion, the events of the previous night rushing back as sleep?s disorientation cleared. Bad, but how bad?

Pretty bad.

She was fairly sure that she?d earned herself a couple enemies over the course of those hours.

And then, Albion. Oppressive guilt formed in her chest as lash-heavy eyes idly drifted over the refined profile of her roommate. She had used him - crawling all over him and generally creating a lace-panty spectacle - in an attempt to...well, prove herself? Or prove her affection for him? Hell, she wasn?t sure what she had been doing.

Regardless, Albion deserved better, and she knew it.

Very gently, she eased out of his bed, careful not to disrupt his last precious hour of slumber, and her bare feet, as they daintily weaved and paused to allow her to collect discarded items of clothing, made not a sound. A seat was found on her bed, not far away, and she turned a concerned visage toward the slowly-gathering glow of the dawn, eyes distant in thought.

She?d be seeing Jolie in class in a couple of hours, and despite her promise to help the menacing vampire seek revenge for her familiar?s death, Quillyan wondered if it was a bad idea. She knew Jolie was a monster, and perhaps that was why it had moved her so much to see her weeping in the hallway. She had been crying - hadn?t she? Furthermore, Saphira had been the one punished for that whole debacle, so she must have been at fault, right?

Blue eyes, midnight in the shadow of the room, wandered over the dormant silhouette of Viisaus on his perch. Killing a familiar was low.

Still, it troubled her that so many of her peers - her friends - seemed to take Saphira?s side. Mystri - well, her opinion was forfeit, seeing as she was bonded with the Ice Elementalist. But Angelica? It was strange.

Also strange was Saphira?s expression upon seeing Albion, and Xera?s face in response, as if she had noticed something. Quillyan attempted to repress the envious thought, considering it secondary to Saphira?s more murderous transgression.

There was more to this story. Before Quillyan could face Jolie again, before she could devote herself anew to the cause of vengeance, she needed an unbiased account of the events. But from whom? The students exchanged trinkets of gossip, but they were unreliable. The administration?

The thought of approaching any member of the administration made her ill, for they were an imposing crew and she doubted they would tolerate her inquires. The last thing she needed was to attract their attention.

But Vesper had administered Mystri?s and Saphira?s punishment. The groundskeeper. If Quillyan skipped breakfast, perhaps she could pay Vesper a visit before her first class. If she was going to do that though, there was no time to ponder. No time to dwell on Vesper?s rumored insanity. In silence and darkness, she readied herself in seconds only, gathering her wild red mane into a simple ponytail and slipping into a fresh uniform, wrinkled but clean.

She made for the door, remembering her roommate only as she grabbed her books. It would be strange for him to wake and find her gone.

So she left a hastily-scrawled note on the pillow, hoping the simple brevity would seem authentic.

http://i1105.photobucket.com/albums/h355/OedipaLydia/Screenshot2011-01-02at103306PM.png

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-03 11:00 EST
(Late the night of the party, During the time Mystri was in Kish and Akemi's room)

Saphira slept with almost no movement where Kish had left her a few short hours ago in her own bed. Mystri's half-dreaming aroused state was affecting her sleep. She turned and arched slightly in her sleep, muttering softly, incomprehensibly. Lune seemed worried, his mistress had never acted in such a way in her sleep before.

She unconciously ran her hands down her own body, mirroring Mystri's own motions. heightened emotional states seemed to get through more clearly, whether waking or not. Albion...

Wait.

No.

Albion was her friend, not her lover.. Mystri's own thoughts echoing in her mind.

Scent. The scent was wrong. Something both girls would be sensitive to. Saphira jolted awake with a snarl "Akemi!" The name was an enraged sound. Mystri's indignation and fury washing through her mingling with her own. "Come on, Lune" Not waiting for the bird she slid out of bed and stalked out of her little shed and toward the dorms. She managed to evade Sartha and worked using Mystri's memory of how to find the room. She pounded on the door.

Kish never stirred from his deep enchanted sleep. Akemi opened the door after she pounded again. He looked surprised to see her.

"What do you need?" He recalled seeing the girl with Mystri but hadn't thought anything of it really. Saphira snarled at him and grabbed him by the throat. "Mystri's life might be forfeit for harming a student...but I wasn't given that restriction. If you ever pull a stunt like that again I will personally make you regret it. Are we clear?" The entire time the air around her dropped til it was freezing as a cold frozen fire licked up over her body, fog swirling around her feet like a miniature storm. There was murder in her eyes.

"Am I clear?!" Akemi nodded, eyes wide. "We're clear!" Her display was intimidating and he wasn't in the mood to have a fight in the same room he'd committed a gross overstep with his roommate sleeping right there. Saphira dropped him, unharmed and stalked out, slamming the door behind her.


Akemi was rubbing his throat. Mystri had only just left. "How the hell did she know?" Half whispered to himself. Mystri hadn't had time to say anything to anyone and he knew Saphira's shed was all the way across school...there hadn't been time...

Xera

Date: 2011-01-03 13:10 EST
((The late night after the party in the Commons, towards early morning))

So confused.

She didn't head back to her rooms right away, instead choosing to pout in sullen silence inside the embrace of the flaming hearth. Comprehension was lost. She had no idea what she'd done to get such treatment from Damien, a man she usually adored.

She almost followed the flame's path to Menolymus. The Fire Elementalist teacher was soothing in his dull crackle of flames and while she never confided in him or anything there was something about just being near him that would relax her and allow her mind to unravel whatever was bothering her.

Quite suddenly she missed home with a fierceness that nearly took her breath. Back home she'd be out chasing the other kids with a tankard of ale to relax her once the games ended. Her practical jokes and tendency towards humor were always a welcome distraction that was met with equal jesting. Here, more often than not, her jokes fell flat or people got angry.

She sighed. She needed to confide in someone and exiting the flames she headed for Quinnon's room.

Hours later she left, no better off to be honest. Quinnon was a distracted friend at best and her vague recommendations were lost in a sea of ambiguity. Stumped, Xera made her way down the hall toward her room, freezing momentarily as she saw Mystri lope off the other direction. Definitely not wanting to meet up with her, the anger was a palpable thing after all.

Watching Mystri she missed the eyes that were upon her, jealous and heated, vicious and violent. Nor did she see Cadence as she stepped free from her own shadowy nook, humming a soft song of invisiblity.

Oblivious, Xera headed for her and Esteban's room.

The nick of the icy dagger across her exposed back was at first just an annoying sting, like she'd been bitten by a bug. Slapping a hand around her, she winced and twisted about to see if she could find the culprit but her eyes captured nothing.

Shaking her fiery head she turned toward her door only to cringe at the sharp sensation of pain spreading ever outward. Her surprised, "Ow!" turning into a groan of much more serious agony. Icy needles burrowed their way through her veins and the Azerkin fell to her knees. "What in th-the..." Her teeth chattering, she reached a hand toward the doorknob in growing desperation.

Flaming red hair dimmed to pink before that too faded into soft platinum...her lips twisted in torment as her eyes began to freeze. Crystalline drops of ice forming on her eyelashes. Shuddering, she fell into the door and slid down it with a muffled whimper.


From her vantage point Cadence smiled a tightlipped triumphant smirk. Leaving the fiery Xera to her end as she moved off, a sweet song of glee trailing along behind her.

Myraddin Numidor

Date: 2011-01-03 13:13 EST
{The morning after the Shindig Showdown}


Doorways


Ivinia had overslept again, thanks to Esteban.

Ulyssa Mistmark had already informed her that if she was late one more time she'd have to drop the class. But she was unaccountably in good spirits. She'd made a fascinating discovery following Quinnon of all people the night before and she was on her way to make good on it when she realized her path took her right past the Numidor suite. Her pact with Brais remembered she came to a quick plan. Moving through the hall, she feigned secrecy she didn't need; an over-exaggerated desire to not get caught. Deliberately brushing past the wards that everybody knew Faetha Numidor placed upon their door, she issued a quick curse as if it were an accident and hurried down the hall, pausing at the dead end just around the corner. Tilting back her head and searching the walls.

The sound of the alarm, the pulsating lights that accompanied it, would only last for a moment before dismissed with the opening of the door to reveal a naked Storm Elf. "I told you the password-" Myraddin said, though clipped the ending as he realized that no one was there.

She timed it perfectly for when the door opened her scarlet clad form dropped through the tile in the floor, whipping herself about so that her startled lavender gaze found his as if busted before she disappeared through the secret passage.

Eyes focused and looked down the hall, seeing her just as she departed. His features shifted, finding a cruel slyness in such a game. He disappeared for a moment, though only long enough to slide into a pair of tightly fitted leather breeches. A lavish vest followed, though kept unbound to expose the beauty of his masculine torso, and with a quick step he gave pursuit. He pulled the door closed and ate up the distance between his room and the passage he had seen her disappear through. He searched the area, trying to find it, unafraid to use magic if need be.
Magic wasn't necessary, though, as this was a passage built into the original building, a part of the horrid past that many had forgotten. A pipe on the wall revealed itself in that it lacked the dust of the others and fingerprints marred its surface.

He used the pipe, the natural agility of his race making it easy to navigate. He followed, keen eyes, accustom to such low light, making evidence of her passing easy to discover.

The floor dropped out from beneath him and it was obvious by the rubble that it was not its initial design. Once upon a time a hidden stairwell would've existed but now it was more of a slide.

He recoiled from the fall with the innate levitation of his race, the fall reduced to nothing more than a downward drift. Aracial perk was the ability to see in dim light, all but the darkest of areas, and with an easy survey he examined the realm that he lowered within.

It was damp. The air held the quality of water within it and the rushing sound of more permeated his hearing. Awaiting him at the bottom of the drop was the scarlet robed Ivinia, a hand on her hip and a glare, "I thought you'd follow me."

He landed easily, eyes drinking her in with webs of electricity filling the pupil, displaying his rising emotion. "Did you? And what made you think I enjoyed such games?" There was no doubt that Myraddin was the epitome of rakish, and relished in the fact. He did not advance but kept the distance between them, letting it fill with the heat and weight of his alluring stare.

"Because you're you." She smirked and gave him a dismissive look. A flip of champagne hair over her shoulder as she moved off into the dark hallway that was being illuminated at the far end by the reflection of water and light. Her walk was a strut, a surefire audition for sinful indulgences and a blatant invitation to look. She'd been watching Myraddin closely since Brais' request and had learned quite a few things about him. It wasn't the novitiates fawning over him that drew his heated gaze, but the short coolness of Fleur. Was this why Brais had expressed an interest? She wasn't sure but she was certainly going to find out.

Myraddin hated that answer. He hated appearing predictable, but more than that, he hated to be dismissed. He was the eldest Numidor son and, by the spirits, he would not be dismissed. Her retreat sent him into motion, though paced at a distance as he kept her well in front of him. "Me being me has its advantages, you know. After all, there are no others like me." A fact that he reminded others of often. Even from behind his gaze could be felt, desperately clawing at the supple lengths and delicious curves of her body.

"Unique." A glance back sent her lavender gaze over his body in an appreciative glide that was not faked or forced. This was perhaps the hardest part for her, for despite the rumors that persisted otherwise, the infamous Nymphette was not a flirt. She liked sex. Loved it in fact. And indulged in it as often as she could. But she didn't play with it. She didn't pretend to want it when she wasn't in the mood and she didn't pretend to not want it just to get someone to chase her. She wasn't a fan of flirting. Flirting's usefulness was only good in established relations, to create one it seemed like a waste of time. She wanted Myraddin Numidor. Wanted to know exactly what his sinfully well-kept body and arrogant ways could do to hers. If she had her way she'd have just shown up naked in his bed and that would've been a fun way to while away the night. But, this was different. This was a ...task. And she was surprised to discover that toying with him was turning her on.

He liked that word.

Unique was something that he inspired to be, though normally achieved this simply by being a Storm Elf. Had she known of the power that could easily harness his intention she would have cursed herself for going to such lengths, but alas, to identify him as such was enough to make him putty. Truth be told, it was what he wanted. He didn't want to be ignored, he wanted to be coveted, but more so...he wanted to be manipulated. Because of his family's wealth he often found himself in control, in charge, though all he really desired was for someone to manipulate him...to rule him. He met the look over her shoulder with a hungry return. He kept his hands behind his back as he followed, caressing his own fingers and palms. "It seems we both are." He said in a hushed voice.

She laughed, the soft husky sound reverberating oddly in this underground passageway, hewn by man as evidenced by the tiles that still remained in a few places. The odd lights of the reflective water were explained as they rounded the corner to the bathhouses that had once been used by the asylum inmates. Patches of the walls had crumbled here or there, and darkened corners hid away from the light with some rooms barricaded by the fall of pillars. But the water in the main pool remained crystalline clean, purified by the magical springs of the Southern Glen that pumped through it. And steam rose up from it, revealing the heated vents that pulsated beneath. The illumination was of a greenish cast aided by the quartz rocks that had been fashioned into leveled pillars and benches throughout at different levels of submersion. "If you tell anybody about this, I might just have to hurt you." It was a joking taunt, the threat lacked any real weight as she delivered it with a wicked smile.


http://i836.photobucket.com/albums/zz281/AukaiMastema/romanbath1051.jpg

Myraddin Numidor

Date: 2011-01-03 13:16 EST
Doorways - Part Two


Those words .. I just might have to hurt you....drew across his gaze another arch of lightning, suggesting that perhaps such a reaction occurred when aroused. The muscles along his shoulders and arms tensed as his attention split away from her to take in the pool they approached. It lasted but a moment, not nearly as intrigued with the setting as he was its occupant, and, with a shrug, shed the vest from his broad shoulders to slither down his arms. "In that case you should be worried that I might tell everyone I see, and commence with the penalty." His grin was as sly as the rain on a sunny day.

Her thinly arched brows moved together in a flicker of a frown as she looked away from him to the waters surprised by her discovery. Was the Numidor twin excited by the idea of punishment? Fascinated really, she kept her face averted as she considered this revelation and its possibilities. "Stop." She suddenly commanded in a low voice, turning her glare upon him, "I didn't say you could join me." Looking to his bare chest with obvious heat, though she was too much a creature of pleasure to hide the fact that she liked what she was looking at. "Fine." Snapped. "But only because I admit that your body would be pleasing to look at." She watched him closely for his reaction.

If only she knew.

For his entire life he had been immune to punishment, thanks to his heritage, and now found that nothing excited him more than its possibility. Her command was followed, his step halting, and if she were able to glance away from his beautiful chest to find his eyes she would see within them an excited submission. He stood perfectly still, a statue for her to appraise, though when she conceded and snapped her approval he moved forward, toward her. "Would you like me to help with your disrobing?" He asked quietly, the echo chamber making the words sound louder than intended.

And there it was. She was able to detect his arousal quite easily as it was, after all, her forte. An appreciative smile pulled at her lips as she deliberately turned her back upon his glorious nudity and surveyed the water instead. "Yes." As if distracted and dismissive. She held out her hands slightly from her sides so that the scarlet robe could be peeled, "Why aren't you in class?" Not sure how far she could push this discovery and willing to take it slow.

He moved to her with silent steps, not stopping until the facade of his body grazed the bow of her back. Nimble fingertips came to rest upon the intersection of her neck and shoulders and very smoothly swept outward, splitting her robe open along the hemline to slide down her arms. His cool breath was felt on her flesh as it became bare, tingling her skin with a moist touch. "The middle hours of some of my days are used for sparring. I am done with such for the day." Memories drifted to his partner that morning and the sparring he and Akemi had done. He fended off the shudder and gathered her robes in his hands, folding it neatly into a square.

"Sparring?" She didn't doubt it as that explained the physique he clearly sculpted. A shiver answered his nearness and another miniature convulsion of her muscles occurred with the brush of his fingers. She was becoming deeply intrigued with this foray upon conspiracy and was surprised to discover that her breathing had quickened. "Samcenu mentioned wanting to put together a combative event that mixed physical sparring with evocation. You'd do well in it I'm sure." The compliment was delivered in a slightly breathless tone as she stepped onto the first step, the water lapping greedily at her ankles as it closed over her feet. She was naked beneath the robe, a lushly built woman whose curves were unapologetically plump, the rounded flesh all creamy and soft.

He nodded, his breath moving along her neck and shoulder with the motion. "That is what I train for. As an evoker some of my time is spent practicing my offensive magic." He clenched her robe, alleviating some of the desire to reach out and do the same to her curves. He watched her as she started forward, listening as the water sung with her arrival. He did not proceed, still uninvited completely to join. There was a part of him content just to watch as the pool consumed her, and another part that was extremely jealous.

She slid a foot onto the next step, content to slowly savor her immersion in the echoing cavernous hall that had come to feel like a private indulgence. He was right to recognize the connection she had as she did indeed treat the water as if it were somehow her lover, embracing her, taking her, immersing her within its pleasurable touch. She sighed, the sound one of pure relaxation, the true aphrodisiac. "I'd love to watch you and Samcenu battle." A purr almost at the pleasure such a sight would grant.

His smirk was nearly tangible. He folded his arms across his chest, tightening the muscles that lined those limbs as well as swelling the bulbs of his shoulders. He arched a brow at her, lips curled in a lightning quick grin. "Really? Do you wanna see that old drow get his ass kicked?" The other drawback to having never been punished was the innate blindness to consequences. He seemed unconcerned with the Master of Evocation hearing him. "Besides, in a few years I'll take his place, and then he'll be the one learning from me." Again, so brash. He continued to watch her, the electricity that flared in his eyes growing more illuminating with each passing moment.

She laughed.

Turning about to face him and delivering her own vengeance in the form of the lustful connotations of a body built for sin. "That old drow is really...really....good at what he does." And the way her eyes lit with an inner heat combined with the lift of her lips in a pouty smile revealed she spoke in the most intimate of ways. With a push she slid backwards into the embrace of the water, letting the steaming greenish hued liquid wash up over her as she sank back on a purred sigh.

He was not bashful in revealing what drew his attention, his eyes falling to rake across her naked breasts. The sight was appealing and caused muscle to tighten all across him, not to mention the flick of his tongue at the corner of his mouth to moisten suddenly dry lips. He recognized her meaning, her intention, regarding Samcenu. He wasn't surprised. He had heard enough rumors about Ivinia and the Master of Evocation that putting the two together in such a carnal collision was not unexpected. "Is he?" He asked with a mocking tone. "I don't find that hard to believe if what he does is currently swimming before me."

"Join me." Suddenly. Rising up in the waist high water and letting it sluice over the large objects of his attention.

Pointed ears perked and a devilish grin crept across Myraddin's features. He turned and placed her robe off to the side before starting at the fasten of his breeches. The sound of the zipper opening filled the room, and then with meticulous cunning he slid the tight leather down his muscular legs as though unveiling a gift. Truly it was as moment later he stood before her, utterly naked. With a slow prowl he began forward, taking a step into the water, his gaze fixed upon her.

She was impressed and didn't bother to hide it. Again that level of flirtatious disbelief was really beyond her. She looked hungry and she felt it. But even so she found herself fascinated with this idea of his submissive desire. "The waters are quite soothing." Moving toward him to greet him as he descended the stairs, she brushed past him at the last moment, a slickened touch of her skin to tease and taunt, "Tomorrow morning, same time....if..." Her wicked smirk obvious, "...you keep our secret."

He stepped into the water until it was waist deep, watching her as the pool drank him in and concealed the endowments just gifted to her by the shedding of his pants. Her approach was met with anticipation and eagerness that leapt with lightning in his eyes, though his hands remained stayed and his body calm and composed. He was certain she would touch him, caress him, stroke him, embrace him. Certain of it, and when she stepped beyond he felt a bit of his enthusiasm deflate. He did not turn as she moved around him, though spoke to her over his shoulder. "And if I dont?"

"Well then you won't ever find out what your punishment is for uncovering my secret in the first place." Sliding into her scarlet robe and turning to look down at him, rather enjoying the height advantage and the power it implied.

He gave her his back, his shoulders, and said nothing else, answering her with only a nod.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2011-01-03 23:05 EST
An instrument? Mistress Van Blaudin was giving him a lecture because he lacked an instrument??? His voice was his instrument! Idle play on the guitar notwithstanding...

So, more music lessons on top of an already murderous classload. How wonderful life was turning out to be. The halls passing in a haze, until he had to stop.

"Por lo tanto fr?o. ?Por qu? es tan fr?o?" His breath puffing as visible fog for a moment, before he tripped. On something that should not by all rights be there. He could've sworn to the ability to navigate this part of the dorms half-drunk and blind...

"Xera? Merde!" In moments, music danced through the bard's mind, and lyrics spilled from his lips to fight off the unnatural chill.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-01-04 20:26 EST
She was such a fool.

Drawn into Brais' manipulative web she'd thought she knew what she was getting into. They had similar goals. She wanted Uziya, and he wanted Tiatari distracted.

At first it had been fun to play the game. The jabs, the unexpected cuts delivered when Zi least expected it. He was predictably worried about her tangled up with Brais and she had laughed it off.

And then he had shared what her loss had done to him. Her death had broken him and his hurt was walled away so that he could function. Suddenly, her little game seemed pitiful. Pathetic really. He hadn't left her. She'd left him. And he had survived and moved on.

And now, now through her own foolishness she was bonded to a cold-hearted ruthless man who would resort to any means to get his way. She hadn't realized that the bond she felt with Uziya was a product of her own racial qualities and the deep emotional attachment they had formed.

Earth spirits mated.

Upon her death she had broken that bond with Uziya and with her impulsive act she had reforged herself to Brais Galician on a purely physical and intimate level.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-04 21:06 EST
{The Morning After the Party in the Commons Area}

~*Lovers*~

In Albion's mind, that was always how he saw the word. Written in italics with swirly lines and stars. It was an idea more than an activity, composed of mystical nuances and intimate degrees. He never doubted that he an Quillyan would one day cross that line and fall within the grip of that idea, though he didn't expect it to come so abruptly.

He envisioned a meticulous preparation, with a series of steps laying the groundwork for that sensual culmination. He always figured there would be a beach, or maybe a sunset. A bed with a canopy at least, and, of course, a fire.

Needless to say, while the activities that took place upon their arrival were not as he had planned, he was far from disappointed. The torrid abandon of such harnessed passion peaked upon a fiery endeavor that devoured a majority of the night and ultimately resulted in a sweaty, tangle of limbs, panting in ecstasy before fading into slumber.

The click of the door closing alerted him, drawing one eye slowly open to gaze up at the bland ceiling. He swallowed, throat a bit raw, and with his left hand reached across the span of the mattress and the snarl of sheets in search of her creamy skin. Fingertips found a familiar caress, though not the one he was expecting.

Paper.

There was a note.

He drew in a deep inhale to settle the nerves that tingled beneath his flesh as slender digits closed around the parchment. That one unveiled eye retreated behind its lid before he could read a single word, his mind recoiling in preparation of what he was about to read.

Sorry about that.

Yeesh, talk about a mistake.

Were you even awake during that second part?

He almost chuckled as he recited the options in his mind. He had to be ready for anything. The last thing he wanted was to be hopeful of some magniloquent review of the previous night and instead find a short, curt, dismissal. Did he think Quilly would do that to him? No, but he also didn't think she would be so aggressive in her sensual suggestiveness. It seemed that she was just full of surprises.

He pried an eye open and read the letter.

He exhaled, nearly laughing. That wasn't so bad. He could forgive her for sneaking out quietly, though hoped it wasn't out of shame for her inebriation. It was unexpected, and maybe she just needed to clear her head.

He sat up and, with his hands, gathered his thick crimson hair behind his head, a simple sash tied around his wrist used to secure a tail that slithered down between his shoulder blades to lick across the small of his back. The account of the party was still bothersome. Saphira and Quillyan were at odds, there was no doubt of that, though he didn't know why. As far as he knew they were friends...well, perhaps friendly, but nowhere near the fervent animus he witnessed in the Commons. Something was going on.

He had even spied Mystri from the doorway, though he didn't expect her to actually make an appearance. He was absent during her earlier stint, and to find out that she indulged in such festivities would have stumped him for certain. He hadn't seen her since their field trip into the lagoon on Twilight Isle and had some information pertaining to the tomb that they found, particularly the symbols scribed across the front.

More so, he was known around campus as the Helping Hand, and yet in that one evening seemed to be the trigger that ignited the scurrilous exchange. Tempers flared like fireworks; soaring in straight lines before exploding into balloons of explosive conflagration.

Answers. He decided that he needed them.

The shower was quick, the toweling off even quicker, and once dressed in his apprentice uniform and cloak he departed with determination guiding his step. He was going to find Mystri and Saphira - and if need be Vesper herself. He needed to know what had happened.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-04 22:27 EST


The hour being still indecently early, Quillyan encountered not another soul on her brief sojourn to see Vesper. And though she?d neither seen nor visited the Groundskeeper?s cottage before, her months at the the Institute permitted a relative comfort with the school?s holdings. She was able to find it easily.

For once, she had half-hoped to find herself lost, forced to forgo this impulsive enterprise.

No such luck.

A small shiver crawled up her spine as she beheld the strange little dwelling. It was a sharp morning, endowed with sharply cold air. Sharp tree branches scratched like skeletal hands across the sky.

An eloquent gloom presided over the set of seraphic features, pulling the corners of her plump lips downward into a tidy little frown. Oh, to be back in bed, warmly burrowed under the covers with Albion, the contours of their bodies happily nestled together; instead, she was freezing her ass off, alone, at this ungodly hour, about to request an audience with a madwoman.

Might as well get on with it.

Quillyan advanced on the front door and knocked four times, sharply.

?...Miss...Vesper??

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-01-05 10:31 EST
"It would not do to see light doused before it had a chance to cast a shadow."

These words resounded again after her meeting with the Headmistress Natolii and the Dark Mage Daraul. It was particularly pleasing to discover that the Headmistress shared Satariel?s appreciation for ambition and machinations. As a Ravinist she would see to the fostering of certain students whose penchant for trouble might have seen them removed from other schools. But it was through their scrambling that many other students would find themselves forged. And if some revealed themselves to be too ...darkly greedy...well then they would be curtailed. The school remained the grounds of Arkon Daraul and he had decreed no deaths to tarnish the reputation of the Institute.

A pretty filigree-laced clock chimed a warning and drew the ochre eyes of the Mistress of Shades and Shards from the darkness. Black inky nothingness split to allow the alabaster skin to be birthed from the umbra in which she resided. Abandoning the constructed world of one of her Shades she left as surely as her Goddess had left her.

A slow measured step that showcased the statuesque perfection in a time-honored tradition of display carried her to the Hall of Clocks. And there she found the image of the sweet faced Quillyan knocking upon the madwoman?s door. If she were capable of emoting a frown might have marred the chilly beauty?s face but it would be an affect that had no audience to admire it. Expressionless, she instead watched and waited. To lose this one before she had grown bright enough would only guarantee the lessening of the shadow she was intended to create. A glance to the russet clock face that was fired with scarlet whorls revealed that he had yet to emerge from their dorm room.

Those who formed connections could gain both strength and vulnerability through the bonding. And it was not chance that had her placing those two together, nor was it with any sense of surprise that their relationship slowly blossomed. The fruit of her labors normally took decades to bear success.

She had not been displeased with Vesper?s handling of the shape-shifters. Keeping her gaze transfixed upon the delicately crafted clock she waited.

Xera

Date: 2011-01-05 12:45 EST
(Esteban)

She shuddered violently. The tremors that wracked her short frame enough to do serious damage should her convulsions be allowed to continue. The warming influence of Esteban soaking through the icy constraints that had worked their way to her heart. It was like fiery laced alcohol soaking, seeping through her skin, his accented murmur burning away the chilly clutch of death.

Pale. Icy white skin and pale blonde hair, Xera looked shockingly different, young and fragile without the flaming persona hugged about her.

Pain wracked her as she fought to part her frozen lashes, crystalline tears shattering. She moaned through a particularly rough series of tremors, "ss-s-so cc-c-cold."

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-01-05 12:45 EST
{The Conjuration wing, midday}



From behind the podium Brais looked out over the empty classroom, the tick of his dark glance moving from desk to desk. Fingers clenched along the sides of the pulpit merely to alleviate some of the tension that had consumed his hands and his forearms, as the events of the days before had drawn heavily across his mind.

Fleur had been injured trying to locate L'loris, a task undertaken by his request, and though he had never desired for her to be put in the crosshairs of the search, she was doing what she thought would be helpful for him.

And to him, that simply wasn't good enough.

There was a strange tingle of guilt boiling within his gut, and every time his eyes closed he could see the wounds marring her perfect porcelain skin. In a sense, he had done that to her.

He had visited Vliss hoping to assuage the guilt. Their scheme was in full affect, with word of their relationship growing with the passing of each day, and he hoped that by being with her the weight of remorse that flowed through him as surely as blood would surrender its hold and release him.

It was there, amidst the carnal twist and tangle of limbs and bodies that he realized how futile the attempt was. Vliss begged for him to never stop, to always be hers, and all he could think about was his precious flower.

No longer could he wear the mask.

As it was his way, he denounced their relationship, not even having the decency to wait until they were done, using the spiritual bond that tied them together to keep her from ejecting him as he crushed her soul beneath a harsh tirade of cruel intention. He had wondered if the emotional betrayal of his rejection would be enough to undo the mystical bind interwoven between them, though in the end realized that it would not.

There, naked and broken upon her bed, she watched him go, hating him...and wanting him.

It was no longer his concern. He was to be with Fleur, as it had always his true desire. The bond of Vliss could only be broken if she were to mate with another, which made the answer a simple one.

He had to find someone to fill that role.

Soon.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-05 22:23 EST
Flesh

Smooth, hot flesh.

She welcomed the new sensation, soft sighs of desire on her lips. Hard flat planes of muscle and red hair burned in her mind's eye.

Tingling pleasure of feeling hands roving over her bare flesh, no fur. There was no resisting this, she didn't want to.

She shifted in her sleep, murmuring. "Albion.."

The powerful pulling, awakening within her desire, both alien and irresistible. She could taste his lips....feel him pressed closely against her, seeking.... She wanted him. "Mystri...."

A soft frown creased her lips as she slept.

Mystri? No, she was...She was Saphira. Was he blind? She looked down at herself. No fur. No burn scars. This wasn't her body. Panic swept over her, the feelings of desire melting away.

It had not been her dream.

She awoke with a startled gasp, furred flesh still sensitive to touches it had not really felt. Kisses she had not really known.
Lune cooed softly to her and with a soft ruffle of feathers flew from his perch to her bed. He nudged her hand and she stroked him lovingly, even as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh Lune....For so long I wanted to know these things, and now I don't know if I can handle them. Quilly is hiding something, Mystri is harboring feelings for Albion and I'm caught in the middle." Confiding in him as she could only one other.

"Why is everything so complicated? Why can't I have it, too? I just...I just want to feel something..other than what I have always known."

Lune twisted his head to look at her upside-down, hoping to cheer her up.

She smiled thinly, though the immense ache of having fleetingly felt what passion might be, perhaps something deeper and have it ripped brutally away with waking was too much. She cradled Lune to her breast, and wept.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2011-01-05 22:38 EST
{Xera}

"I know, querida. Come on, I know what to do."

The bard wasn't the strongest around, but he could handle this like a hero. The situation demanded nothing less, after all. It was, however, a very fortunate thing that the pair were so close to their rooms. Kneeing the door open, he hefted her through and kicked it closed, his eyes entirely on the one thing he could remember she liked most.

The fireplace.

A crash of chords, the trill of a flute. These were the sounds in his mind, as the cold logs within blazed to life. With a muttered oath, he hooked a blanket from the divan with his foot, and did his best to make his freezing roommate a makeshift nest on the hearth.

"Come on, Xera. Zero degrees doesn't suit you... here's the fire, let's get you warmed on up, what'cha say?"

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-05 22:53 EST
{Dark Races Novice Class}

"And thus we have the two sides that comprise the Blood Wars."

There chimes signaled the ending of the class as the Red-headed Instructor finished his tale of demons and carnage. "Remember tomorrow is a quiz, so I expect you to study."

There was a collective groan from the novices as he watched them file out of his lecture. The class was the one thing keeping him reasonably calm. At least he had his classes to concentrate on...

That was before Worl put in an appearance. There was something about having a quasit for a familiar. The demon kin was semi-tame, if not a bit of a pervert. Around other students, it would appear in it's wolf form. To Damien, it was a diminutive demon.

The creature chittered to him and those turquoise eyes hardened. There was a tick in his jaw even though the words seemed calm. "So it is true."

There was a drumming of fingers on the lectern in thought. "Seems I am a fool, thinking these females would even care."

He gave a shrug, feeling something inside of him harden further.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-06 12:11 EST
Awkward around Albion.

That was just great. The nicest guy in the school and suddenly she couldn't stand to be around him. She didn't want him. Hadn't thought of him in that way until Akemi's nightmarish interpretation had cloaked his depravity.

And now she was just plain irritated. Their discovery (A crypt in the bottom of the lagoon at Twilight Island) was a mystery she had been enjoying deciphering with him. Now alone time with him was tense, weird, and uncomfortable.

While some of her pissy attitude might have been rubbing off on Saphira, the wolf girl's shyness had done its part to make Mystri distinctly out of sorts. It didn't help that she was consumed with irritation for his current girlfriend and his ex. And then to discover that Jolie had been messing with him had only fueled her fire.

She wanted to rip that vampiric bitch's face off and use it for toilet paper.

"Hurt another student and your life is forfeit..."

The problem was the list of people she'd like to hurt was starting to outpace the ones she could stand to be around.

Xera

Date: 2011-01-06 19:35 EST
{Esteban}

She shook so hard she was difficult to hold onto and as he created the fire in the hearth she tried to turn toward it like a flower to the sun.

Later she'd feel bad about his blanket, if she remembered it, wrapping it around her as she rolled directly into the flames of the hearth.

WHOOSH! The blanket and Xera went up in a blaze of flames, her frozen lips ripping open on a sharp agonized gasp. The icy contagion dripped from her eyes resembling for all the world like tears of diamonds.

Collapsing upon the hearth, the flames dimmed, ebbed, and finally died. Leaving a flame red-haired Xera, her golden tanned skin returned to its usual healthy color, passed out upon the hearth.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-01-06 20:45 EST
{Damien}

Her nightmares were getting out of control. She'd avoided sleeping for days now and in a moment of weakness passed out on the couch in their living room. Tucked into a little ball, the blanket of Damien's cloak somehow tugged around her, she slept peacefully at first as his scent seemed to hold the darkness at bay.

Rolling over, the slick surface of the cloak slipped from her to puddle on the floor beside her. Within minutes she had tensed. A gasp of fear clutching her throat, her chest tight with pain. She jerked. A scream ripping from her. Her hands flailed against an imaginary attacker as she struggled for her life all over again. Clawing for freedom she whimpered desperately, "Xera! Xera please! Don't LEAVE!"

A choked sob, "No! No! XERA! Xera come back! PLEASE Don't leave me!"

"NOooOoo!"

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-06 21:01 EST
{Vliss}

It was with those dark thoughts in mind that he returned to their shared suite. Seeing her passed out on that couch softened his resolve a bit. He knew more that most about her. He had no objections with the little intimacies of their greetings.

Perhaps that is what bothered him the most over Xera's actions in the commons. He remembered the jealousy and wondering if there was some feelings for him. Yeah, sure. He was everyone's friend, big brother... shoulder to lean on.

He had a rueful smile on his lips as he watched her snuggled into his cloak. He slipped into his bedroom a moment to change out of that monstrosity that was called a uniform. He had shrugged out of his clothing and was pulling on a pair of black jeans when the scream pulled him almost running to Vliss.

"Xera! Xera please! Don't LEAVE!"

A choked sob, "No! No! XERA! Xera come back! PLEASE Don't leave me!"

"NOooOoo!"

The first thing he did was wrap her up close to him. Not caring about the fact that all he was wearing was jeans and his long mane of red...

"Vliss, wake up. You are safe. Come on, sweetheart. Come on back." He murmured soothingly, calling to her.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-06 21:51 EST
{Later that Evening}


He felt better.

He hadn't found Saphira yet, but he managed to stumble across Mystri at the twilight Isle. Well, that wasn't exactly accurate. After a day full of classes and looking for a rather elusive Lycan, he decided to spend some time down at the Lagoon researching the language he was certain was inscribed along the face of the tomb that he and the pink haired transmuter had found a few days earlier. He knew that he had seen that bizarre cipher somewhere before, and with a little research found the ancient civilization where it originated from. The language was Zoquean and hadn't been used for thousands of years.

He had been there for a few hours, knowing that sooner or later Mystri would show up. Since the party there was this tension-filled thing between them and he wanted to know what was going on. He hadn't been there for the spat between her and Quilly, though was in attendance for the strain between Quilly and Saphira, and while he didn't know the details it wasn't hard to see that something was discombobulated and had wedged itself between them.

When she came through the portal she had nearly turned and fled at the sight of him, but he didn't let her. He drug her over to where he sat by the shore and forced her to talk to him. Well, maybe he didn't force her, but to Albion it had sure felt like an exertion of effort beyond the normal requirement. They were transmuters, but more than that they were friends and Albion didn't like losing those.

From what he gathered the entire ordeal seemed to be one huge misunderstanding that stemmed from an error in judgment, and when all was said and done, Mystri seemed more upset about his exchange with Jolie than any animosity received from Quillyan.

Which was good.

He didn't want to rush things, or make things into what they weren't, but Albion wasn't the sort that just crawled in and out of beds on a whim. The sensual events of the previous night compelled him to cast Quillyan as a steadfast fixture, and if she felt the same he would need Mystri's support. The value of her friendship was worth its weight in coin.

Granted, she was slight, so perhaps it was worth her height in coins stacked together.

Hmmm, she was short as well.

Regardless, her friendship was of vital importance and he needed her to accept him and the choices he made.

She left quickly and he not far behind. Nightfall was upon them and he needed to return to his room. He still had yet to find Saphira, still had yet to talk to her, but that would have to wait for another night.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2011-01-06 22:42 EST
{Xera}

Whoops. Well, Mami could always knit up another. Wait, who was he kidding. Mami, knit? Riiiiight.

However, that problem had little to do with the current situation. With a herculean summoning of willpower, the bard fought off the natural instinct to gaze and appreciate, instead finding another blanket to wrap his roommate up in. One of hers, this time.

Once again finding himself in the position of beast of burden, he lifted her up as gently as he could manage, and carted the unconscious girl into her room. He knew there was a bed in there somewhere. She'd made mention of it at the party.

Speaking of the party, a few things were becoming distressingly clear. One, the main door needs a better lock, and possibly a warding spell or fifteen. Two... where can one find Nomex blankets in this town?

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-07 01:21 EST
Albion had found her in Teas 'n Tomes reading up on bonding enchantments while curled up bookworm-style in an over sized chair. She'd smelled him before he had opened the door and she looked up as the door chimed confirmation.

It had been a fairly straightforward question, really. What was going on between her and Quilly? Well that was the problem, she knew Quilly lied to her but other than that she didn't really know, and it irked her.

She explained the best she could, though she felt perhaps something was lost in translation. A joke (and not even a great one) lightened the subject. A simple remark about being a hairy beast and having a fantastic sense of smell. But it had done the job, elicited a smile.

Naturally he protested her claims of being a beast and she'd responded he had not seen her come full moon.

This was Albion.

How could he not?

He asked to see her when taken by the change. To study her and dispel myths associated with Lycans. She warned him, she was a danger to herself and others, the full moon took her sanity, which was why she wore the charm the prevented the change until she could learn to control it herself.

This was Albion.

He persisted. He promised to take proper precautions and observe from a distance. Finally she agreed, under the stipulation he shackle her himself to ensure she did not go on a killing spree. It was the only way.
A mindless raving beast is never a good thing to set loose, well, unless they earned it.

He'd agreed. In three weeks, when the next full moon rose she would remove the charm, allow herself to be shackled and let the change take her. There was some small part of her that feared she would frighten him, or perhaps cause him to be disgusted. But she reminded herself. This was Albion. He was too stubborn for all that. Said so himself.

And it was a good cause, really. He promised to help her learn a way to control it, find whatever needed finding to gain full control over herself, something she greatly desired.

She was now a science project.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-07 01:51 EST
**About and hour after returning to IAP with Albion and parting ways**

She was in the library looking for a book on portals and instant distance traversing spells, minding her own business. She was still barefoot, having decided to head here instead of wasting time going to her room and coming back first. She preferred to avoid upping her chances of running into Sartha.

She lifted her head as she caught his scent, turning slowly.

Kish.

Something clicked. The smell in her room. Her eyes went wide. "You were in my room!" Perhaps a little more accusatory than she meant it to be. "It's you I smelled there. what were you doing in my room?"

Kish held his hands up. "Hey now, easy. You don't remember?" Saphira frowned a little. "Remember what?" Slowly.

"You were doing..something outside your room..I didn't mean to be watching but I have never seen elements combine like that for one person." He was getting a little off topic now. "You gotta tell me how you do it, seriously." He was grinning at her. She wasn't budging.

"Kish....why were you in my room?" He blinked. "Huh? Oh yeah, you fainted. I wasn't going to leave you there, so I picked you up and put you to bed. That's it. Left you with your owl."

She plucked a book from the shelf. "I...did? I don't remember that..I remember the party, I remember Quilly and Albion, and running with Mystri...but that's all."

"You probably had a little too much to drink. I could smell it on your breath. You might wanna watch that stuff."

She flushed. "I...yeah. I don't plan on doing that ever again, actually."
He shrugged. "Good call. So, when are you going to show me what you can do with ice?" Casually asked though his eyes lit with interest. He had a passion for his chosen school and she seemed to have a mastery over it that was impressive.

"Oh...well...what are you doing tomorrow?" He straightened from his lean on the bookshelf. "It so happens I have a date with a white furred vixen who's going to show me a thing or two. Unless you object, of course."

She felt her cheeks burning at the compliment and knew her face was crimson. "I ...I of course I'd be...delighted." She was taken aback he had called her a vixen. She wasn't anything special, she was just..Saphira.

"Excellent! What do you say we pack a lunch and take it to the knoll? There's plenty of room and little chance of being bothered. You could let loose and not worry about a thing."

She nodded, her mind reeling. "I would like that, yes..." She flashed him a genuine smile, one of those smiles that completely transforms a pretty girl into a raving beauty. Kish caught his breath at that smile. She was gorgeous and seemed oblivious to it. He wondered idly what it might be like to run his fingers through her fur..

"Alright." Suppressing the fleeting thought. "I'll meet you there at noon. I'm looking forward to this, you seem to have a rare gift, Saphira."
He remembered her name! Wait...why did that matter to her so suddenly?
She must be tired, of course that had to be it.

"Sure thing, I promise I won't be late." Another smile sent his way. "But as it is, I should get to bed I have an early class and I don't want to be late to it. See you tomorrow." He smiled back an easy smile if ever there was one. "Tomorrow" He echoed.

He watched her with unabashed appreciation as she turned and walked away. "Beautiful.." He murmured, unaware her hearing was sharp enough that she heard him. She did not let on she had, though her cheeks were burning hotly. The book was clutched tighter to her chest and made her way out, she needed some sleep.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-07 13:05 EST
{Later that same night. With Quillyan still not in their room thanks to the insanity of whatever was transpiring with Vesper, Albion decided to forgo sleep and continue his search}

He found Saphira at the Teas'n Tomes.

After an entire day of searching the school he managed to locate her at the book store that he wouldn't have checked otherwise had it not been for something Quillyan had said to him the night before. She had told him about the study group with Fleur and Blizzard at the TnT, and had mentioned Saphira. Putting two and two together, he figured that she may have been hiding out there, though really such a jaunt was a win/win either way. He had a book he'd been meaning to pick up for more than a week, and if anything he would at least have a good excuse for being there even if she weren't.

As luck would have it, she was.

Thankfully the store was empty, as it normally was that late in the evening, and he was able to pull up a chair and speak with her privately. He asked her about the confrontation between her, Mystri, and Quilly. He had Mystriana's side of the story and was eager to know other aspects from adjoining parties, which was fortunate because Saphira seemed unafraid to converse about the issue.

He listened and interjected, calling into question some things while offering advice on others. By the end of their talk he was convinced even further that their struggle was centered around a misunderstanding, and glad to hear that Saphira desired Quillyan's friendship. Saphira was adamant, though, that Quillyan had spoken with Jolie and lied about it, and while he didn't question Quilly's reasoning for denying such a conversation, he was curious as to their meeting, especially after the way he and the Vampire's last discussion had ended.

He sought to bridge that gap by offering his aid, volunteering some of his time to assisting in her quest to control the monster that lurked inside. She had mentioned her fear at the thought of a full moon, which instantly made the crimson haired Transmuter eager to seek her out in three weeks time to see exactly what it was that occurred on such nights.

They left together.

Now all that was left was finding Quillyan. There were a number of reasons for this and it wasn't hard for him to think of a myriad of conversations awaiting recognition, but the restoration of jovialness amongst his friends was certainly near the top.


************************************


Once back at the Institute he parted paths with Saphira and made his way toward the Dorm rooms. Sartha was on patrol and he needed to be extra careful. Curfew had come and gone hours ago, and now the raging Minotaur was out in force, hoping to find some tardy party attempting to sneak back in.

Albion moved along the dark halls, keeping to the shadows as best he could. It wasn't his normal method of travel, and the more times he found himself in this unsavory predicament the more he considered taking up Damien's offer regarding the shadow step.

As he neared an intersection, creeping along the wall, the growling huff of a nearby exhale alerted him to the movement just around the corner. A sense of paralysis claimed his legs, tightening muscle, nearly sending him toppling over. It was by chance he noted the convenience of a door just out of his peripheral and yanked it open. He stepped in and closed it as quietly as he could no more than a planck before the shadows seeping through the small crack along the bottom of the door darkened with passing movement.

Safe.

For now.

A clank behind him caught his attention and he quickly turned. He was in a study room of sorts not unlike a converted breezeway with a door on the far wall that was open, admitting the tawny dance of distant candlelight. He had come about just in time to see a silhouette cast upon this dim luminous, growing smaller with departure; an obviously feminine form and gait, though beyond that he knew little. Attention was then drawn to the table between the doors where only a single chair sat, partially turned as though the last to sit within it had swiftly and unexpectedly exited.

Curiosity arched his thin brow as he observed the items on the table, a few step taken for a better look. He was a bit perplexed at the sight of a dagger there, it's long and narrow blade seemingly crafted of icy blue crystal. There was also a note, and with a quick survey of the room to ensure his solitude, he read it.

"Todos los corazones son fr?os, la m?a guardar. Somos uno, en la voz y el alma."

It wasn't magical, of that he was certain.

La mia.

He knew that phrase. He had heard Esteban say it before. The bard must have left his things.

Albion rolled his eyes. "Novitiates." He sighed before collecting them. He'd see the Crooner the following day, and would return his note and his dagger to him personally.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-01-07 21:56 EST
{Damien}

She'd awakened in his arms, held against his naked chest, her face wet with tears. Tiny and fragile in his imposingly masculine grasp she had wept as if shattered, no longer able to keep it all inside. The horror of her life overwhelming. And finally...she had slept.


And then again, she found herself awakening safe again within his embrace, this time in the Red Dragon. His presence in the booth making it appear small and the drawn curtains having aided in putting her to sleep with the press of soothing darkness and his scent all about her.

She'd laughed. It was hard to imagine. But he'd teased her, they'd talked about unimportant things, she'd forgotten for awhile what it meant to be scared, alone, and terrorized.

They'd arrived back at their Dorm room and talked late into the night. She found the stories of his times in the War fascinating and his quiet reverence for a God unfathomable. Assuring him that she was fine, she watched him close the door to his room with an odd ache in her chest. Quietly she entered her own room, the forested floor welcoming her feet, the soft soil and green grass growing at her blessing. Climbing the tree to her bed she knew she wasn't actually going to get any sleep tonight, but thanks to her roommates gentle care she wasn't exhausted to the point of danger.

Pulling open her books she tried to focus her mind on studying, well aware that she was already behind...but at least her academics was something she could control...

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFkN1QXhnOUlhNEJHLVRtYnZQQXhwbGcAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg

Xera

Date: 2011-01-07 22:14 EST
{Esteban}

She was sitting on the edge of his bed when he woke up that morning. Her gleamingly (almost reborn) skin revealed by the drape of a blanket she'd draped around her, and the river of flaming hair spilling over her shoulders.

She hadn't really thought about what he'd think to waking up to his roommate sitting there doing nothing but watching him... and before he could formulate much of a response she threw her arms about him and hugged tight.

A choked, "Thanks 'steban, y'r like nine different levels of fiery explosions."

Sitting back upright she swiped a hand across her cheek, and it might have suspiciously been a little tear stained, but who could tell as she bounced up and out of his room. "We're gonna be late, I killed yer alarm spell." Revealing the remains of whatever device he'd been using to get up in the morning.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-08 02:26 EST
Tea & Tomes



I found the bard in Ah, an empty cafe. Just the place for a little practice. Seems the Bard had picked up his guitar somewhere. Competent enough, from the lack of missed notes in the strumming.. I moved inside, and smiles softly, hearing him play his beautiful music. I have hands full of books and moves to put some back on the nearby shelves. ?Hello, Estaban.? my dark blue eyes looks his way.

?Hmm? Oh! Hola, Mercedes. ¿Cómo está usted esta noche??

"Did you say. How are you?" I moved his way. I must have a look of confusion on my face. For he played a few note.

?Ah, I keep forgetting. I said, how are you this evening?? I watched him giving the guitar a twirl in his hands, returning it to the case with a board smile

"I am good. thank you for asking." she sits in front of him, she crossed her legs.

I watched him breathing a deep sigh, he glanced down at the guitar.:: ?According to our new Mistress of Bardcraft, my voice isn't enough. So, another bit of time-consumption in an already crowded schedule, si??

"I like your voice." I sighed I hadn?t had problems with the teacher. "sorry about the other night."

?What of it? :He must have forget him, things may have slipped his mind with everything else that's occurred of late

"I kissed you." A light blushed form on my cheeks. I look away from him.

?Oh, that? You're apologizing for that? Querida, I don't do anything without wanting to.?

"You wanted to kiss me?" I look to him, I had to swallow. This was making me nervous. My blue eyes glance at his lips.

?I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't. None that I've found out, anyway. Unless you are involved with someone who'd take offense??

"I am not involved with anyone....that was my first kiss," I said, shaking my head. If my father ever know I was talking to a man. He would have shoot me.

? ¿Realmente?</I> You certainly seemed... enthusiastic. I never would've guessed??

"Oh." I look to the book in my hand. "Then I blame it on the alcohol."

I must have followed to his teasing ? That's a popular song, where I'm from. But why are you acting like I minded??

I don?t want to forced myself on anymore."

? Haha... Oh come on. What did I just say a moment ago? I never do anything,? :Cue the subtle wink for emphasis.:: ?without wanting to do so.?

if you want to do something. do it." I blushed I was asking for another kiss.

?Alas, I don't believe here is the right place. But, at the moment, neither is the suite. Poor Xera. She's still on the mend, from whatever happened to her.?


"what happened to her?" I was alarmed hearing this.

?I'm... not quite sure. It's like something was freezing her. I'm no fan of cold either, but that... whatever it was, it did quite a number on her.?

I lifted up an eyebrow. "could another student attack her?"

?That's... something I hadn't thought about. I mean, I've met most of the students. I don't really recall any of the ones I know wanting her hurt... or worse.?

"does she have any enemies?"

?She's got her not-so-nice acquaintances, but nobody I'd say harbored any outright <I>hatred.</I> She's pretty affable, if a bit naive.?

I nodded.. I only can think of one person who had the power of freezing people. "who was the sparks at the party in commons?"

?The sparks?? :Definitely a confused look. Not a familiar term.::

"who did saphira fight with... I was coming in the party as she was leaving,"

?Ooohhh. Hrm. I know Quilly and her had words. But Saphira and Xera didn't really talk, as far as I know.? Hearing him, I just nodded and slide a hand through my dark hair. After shrugging, he leaned back, taking a drink of the beer sitting nearby.:: ? Unfortunately, a detective I'm not.?

"if the headmistress thought it will a problem she would have fixed it." I smiled softly. "You need a drink?"

?If the headmistress knew about it. I'm not so sure anymore.? ::Hence, the practicing here.:: ?Hmmm, not right now, but thank you. I'm... trying to cut back.?

"I mean something like a hot chocolate. they have some good ones here. better than the inn."

?Hot chocolate?? ::There's a finger on his lips as he ponders.:: ?Actually, yes. I think I would like that.?
I pulled out a few gold pieces and move to the cashier. she came back with two hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream, she set his cup in front if him and she take a sip on hers. she sighed

No stranger to courtesy, he soon followed suit.:: ?Elegante, que es delicioso, ¿verdad. Quite rich.>Gracias, querida.?

I tilts my head.. I only recognized a few words. "enjoy and your welcome."

? So tell me. What brings you out on a night like this? I know I wasn't playing <I>that</I> loud?? ::Careful, there's that grin again.::

"they have good books here and I just about finish in the library at the school"

?Wait... you're almost finished reading the whole library??? He marveled at me, ?Madre de dios.. when do you sleep???

"I sleep.... I get about two hours asleep,." I laughed at his reaction.

?Two hours? That's all??? Ai de mi.?

"yes." she sips her hot chocolate. "how long do you sleep?"

?Between six and eight, on a good night. Ten if it's a really good night??

I shrugged "I am guess I am weird that way."

?I wouldn't say weird, not in a town like this. Unique, perhaps. Even remarkable. But weird? No, not a word I'd use.?

"don't call me something I am not, Estaban," she sighs. "I am just me. I am not anything remarkable."

?You sleep only two hours a night, you've got the best grades in the Institute, and you've nearly finished reading a library that gives me the absolute willies every time I walk in the doors. I'd even go so far as amazing.

"Shhh." she told him. "I am not that anyway."

?All that, and modesty too.? I sighed hearing him. He wasn?t going to drop it..


*continue*

thanks to Estaben

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-08 02:51 EST
(ICE LESSONS PART 1- adapted from play)

Saphira was standing on the cliff facing the ocean watching the waves roll in, the froth cresting them glittered beautifully in the twilight. Her hair was loose again, blowing behind her as she closed her eyes peacefully letting the scent of salt and sea wash over her while the breeze ruffled her snowy fur.

Circles and runes engraved themselves in the ground, looking like they were being written by an invisible match. They solidified, and then there was something of an angry roar, and within the circle sat Moir. Her hand slid from the cat's back, and it became awake in that motion. It stood, and clawed her had enough to draw blood. Hissing, it fled the circle. She leaned forward and sighed, They were on the hill, a bit down from the cliff. The cat fled downhill.

Saphira opened her eyes, the scent of magic heavy on the air, and with it feline and Moir. She evinced no other motion though, standing perfectly still and straight, waiting. The fog constantly pooled at her feet began to writhe and twine about her body intimately, almost obscenely before there was a flicker and it ignited in blue flame, though the vapor was not consumed, but rather part of it. The effect made her seem almost like a wraith rather than flesh and fur.

Moir tightened, looking around. Seeing the burning form, her first thought was that she's missed, or been redirected again. Standing fast, a fireball spell started, until she looked around, and relaxed slowly. "Saphira?" She sounded tired, and extremely wary.
?Moir. I have been waiting for you. Are you prepared?? Saphira?s voice was low, even, and steady. There was the tone of the instructor, the teacher though at the same time a disconnection from everything around her.

Moir blinked at that, though, it couldn't be seen with Saphira's back to her. A deep breath indrawn, held a moment, and let out, allowing herself to sink back the slightest bit within, a state that allowed her to absorb and remember all she saw and heard, and most of the other senses as well. She nodded. When she spoke again, she sounded calmer, and steady. "Yes." Her accent present, but not thick.

?Excellent? She turned to face Moir, her eyes entirely inhuman, though not exactly lupine. They were icy, frigid even to look at. ?You said you cannot create ice or water yourself but merely replicate, yes? But what you do not realize is your replication is creation. You are confusing yourself and letting your mind think it can only do one thing when in fact you are already doing both. Now, create a globe of water. Remember, you don't have to create the water itself, it's already there, in the air around you. Feel it, bend it, and control it.

Moir nodded, the circle around her fading, the embers burned out. Her right hand came up, and in the space between breaths there became a circulating globe of water cupped in her hand. A slight smile, her gaze focused on the space between them, not quite looking to her teacher's eyes, but close.

?Very good. Now, try to make it bigger, about the size of a pumpkin. Keep your focus, feel the water, flow with it, not against it. Once you get it to the proper size I want you to try to freeze it. Understand?? She was watching Moir critically, though there was a twinkle of approval in her eyes that the girl had managed the first bit. She might not be expressing it, but she was pleased.

Moir nodded slowly, and with each revolution the globe grew, until it was the proper size, her hand splayed flat, and her arm shifting, so that her arm and shoulder made a right angle. There was a slight wrinkle between her eyebrows. Frost formed in the center, and moved outward. The ice retained even the swirl it had held as water. The globe didn't quite touch her hand, but hovered.

?Very good!? Saphira was becoming more and more pleased. ?Now, change it. Create snow, but keep it contained in a sphere of ice.? Saphira knew this was a difficult request, but she truly believed Moir was capable. She was, she just didn't believe in her own abilities, she was certain of it.
Moir?s breathing slowed, eyes still open, but almost glassy as her attention and focus were elsewhere. The ice shuddered, becoming transparent, seemingly holding water in its depths. Water became snow, swirling within, thin threads of white constrained at the edges, energy changed colors.

Saphira tilted her head and nodded solemnly now walking around her, inspecting her posture, and the icy snow globe. ?Good..good..Here though..? She reached up and touched Moir's hand nudging it a fraction of an inch left and up. Moir might notice that it might seem a little easier to control. ?Think of it like a dance...This is your partner. Remember, it takes both partners to create perfection, flaw in one, is flaw in the other.? She demonstrated by lifting her right arm starting position her right hand at her left hip. She brought it up in a slow arc, mist trailing from her fingertips in billowing swirls to become frozen whorls of ice. Every motion created or recreated ice frost or fog, and all of it constantly changed and moved, even the ice flowed as water could though it was solid. ?When you learn to dance together, feel it without thinking, then you can do these things without effort.?

Moir?s hand moved with a little more ease, it seemed like she was tenser than she should be. Watching that demonstration, she smiled slowly. Saphira?s statement made sense. It wasn't that far removed from sparring with Nich, a dance to which the steps were unwritten, but not hard to find.

Moir?s effort would be met with praise. ?There you go...Good! Yes! Now, put it together and show me what you can do. There is no limit here but you.? She watched Moir intently as her own demonstration reduced to vapor and swirled around her white-furred body once more.
Moir took a deeper breath, her eyes half closed, and she moved. Motions fluid, not quite fighting forms, they were too open. A step forward and a turn, spinning in what was almost a round house, and back into the air a moment later, in a back flip. Twisting, water had formed, following her motions. Now, as she brought her hands up, fingers splayed wide as if beseeching a sun god, and arched them down, arms and elbows straight.

The water froze between one breath and the next, and flowed down, following her path. It twined up her arms, and flowed around her form. She broke away, another flip. She shifted her weight, leaning forward. The ice flowed into the form of a dragon for a split second, and then around her, weaving in defensive patterns, before she turned again, a back kick that turned into a barrage of punches and lethally fast snap kicks aimed high. The ice flowing in and around her forms, filling the holes and attacking the imagined target. She froze, breathing still slow, the ice reformed, and then broke apart, becoming snow, and then water, vapor in the next moment, before shifting into mist. The tendrils spun slowly around her, flowing outward in a circular pattern.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-08 02:56 EST
(ICE LESSONS PART 2 -adapted from play)

Saphira nodded, and her expression went from one of pleasure to one of concentration. ?Time for your quiz.? There was no mirth in her eyes as she gazed at Moir. She was dead serious. ?Defend yourself!? A sharp motion her shoulders rolled forward and her arms thrust in front of her as icicles formed and flew at Moir aimed for her torso. If any one of them impacted, it could result in serious injury.

Moir spun before she was done with that statement, simultaneously making herself a small target, and giving herself a solid stance to work from. Hand low and forward, as if she would catch them. It looked like they would connect. At the last second the mist around her closed on them, and flashed solid, returning to a liquid state on contact, and shifting the icicles with it. Ice then, flowing around her slowly, not in a shield form, simply there, like a dog waiting to be called on.

Saphira wasn't going to let her off that easy. A flick of her wrist, a flutter of the hand and then abruptly brought both arms up, fingers splayed wide. The air was suddenly heavy with condensing water that rushed down upon Moir and was quickly freezing, the intent was to entomb her in ice. At the same time the ground beneath Moir began to freeze, ice creeping up from the ground as though hungry to consume her feet as well.

There was no hesitation. Moir moved. A back step and a jump, extricating herself from the tomb, the ice became water, and heated. It didn't cling to her, instead flowing at the freezing ground. Though, some of it was retained near her skin, mist forming around the outside of the shell of heat. A sharp smile, and she spun forward, the air closest to Saphira would turn to water, which would in turn attempt to super heat, before her magic could get to it to chill it.

Saphira grinned as the temperature around her own body plummeted to sub-freezing and the super-heating water would be frozen despite Moir's efforts. She was doing well though. Saphira grunted a little and the ground exploded under Moir, stalagmites of ice jutting violently up as another volley of icicles was launched. A quick step forward and in a half turn she brought both hands down as she came into a hard kneel and the air around Moir began to freeze so fast the girl would find herself fighting for her very breath. If she could overcome this, She would be impressed.

Moir managed a gasp inward, and then held it. The mist brought her up, literally standing on it. Even so, the temperature plummet was stealing her concentration. That breath still held, she moved again, an aerial flip this time, going up, into one of the trees nearby. Hand touching the bark, nearly visible heat flowed from it into her, drawing on the warmth of the water within it. Breath exhaled, one of the volley from below had caught her, her arm was scratched and bleeding. A tight smile, one hand brought down, the snow in the branches above would move, individually-flake by flake- and flow at Saphira, hardened to razor edges, it would be flying like tiny blades, harshly frozen. Her will made them harder to manipulate.

Saphira gestured casually and a wall of thick ice formed between her and those snowflake razors. They shattered harmlessly against it and everything dissolved into vapor that began its more usual writhing twine around her. ?Enough. You have done well.? Nodding her approval. ?Just keep practicing, and soon you won't even have to move as much as you do now. It will be second nature?
Moir?s arms lowered slowly, she didn't quite relax, but rose out of that half trance. She broke into a grin, and jumped down. She landed, and dropped to her knees. She allowed herself a slight laugh. "Thank you. Good to know there's hope here." She sounded tired now, but happy about it. "I will."

?For now...you look like you could use a good night's rest.? Saphira suggested. Moir had one eye half closed. "Probably need it. Numerous broken gate and teleportation spells, the Nexus kept popping me elsewhere, or just not letting me go." She sighed. "Still need to find the cat. Ug.. I'm not going to the compound tonight, my rooms will be an interesting challenge all on their own, hopefully nothing decides to hunt me tonight." Issuing an interesting stream of vocal babble as she got to her feet, slowly. Saphira nodded. ?Good luck with that. I'll see you at school tomorrow hopefully.

Moir ran her fingers through her hair a moment, pressing against her closed eyes. "Umm.. This is something of an odd question, and feel free to say no, I understand liking your solitude. Could I stay with you for tonight? Cat could find me, and I would be well away from Jolie's stomping ground. I don't think I can deal with her tonight. I'd be out of your hair before noon." Softly, her statements could be ignored.
Saphira blinked in surprise. ?I suppose...you can take the bed, there's only one, I sleep outside half the time anyway. Jolie hasn't been around since I...well she hasn't been around lately. I'm sure you'll be fine.? She nodded more to herself than Moir.

Moir shook her head. "No.. I can summon blankets, you should have the bed. its your house..I just know that the night I invite trouble, it will find me." Moir moved to follow Saphira, who chuckled and led the way. ?Trouble does not often toy with very large toothsome creatures.? She said lightly as she began her shape-shift midstride. Bones broke and reformed horribly as did muscles and flesh and soon there was no girl but an enormous wolf. She looked back at Moir, her eyes made it clear, she would sleep outside and stand sentinel.

Moir winced slightly. "That's not fair either.. If nothing else.." She trailed off and shook her head. "Ice to you is as comforting as a fireplace is to the rest of us, isn't it?" Asked in the tone of one that thought they knew the answer, just needed confirmation. She was paced with her back legs, letting her lead. Saphira nodded and if wolves could smile, Moir might swear she saw Saphira do just that. She led the way to her hut. Moir was let in and Saphira settled herself in the snow just outside the door as Lune perched above. She closed her eyes, and slept.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-08 12:13 EST
{Vliss}

It was hard, so very hard to turn away from her that night. The young man that had been taught respect did so without argument, just the gentle admonishment to call him if she had need. The temptation to just stay with her, to kiss her was strong.

Stronger still was the call of the demon. The demon with no respect for anyone or anything. He pushed and prodded at those desires want to provoke a react. He wanted nothing more than to claim the young woman, to violate her...

It had been so strong a temptation that he did not wholly disagree with. Yet, he fought the urge with every ounce of willpower that he possessed. She was hurt and hurting. Whether it was from her past or from more recent issues, he did not know. The report of his familiar did not help any.

The past had to haunt her in some fashion. Death was never easy and from he could discern hers was particularly violent. It also gave him some idea as to why she did not warm to Xera. Some idea because he couldn't picture the Azerkin to be malicious.

Curiouser and Curiouser said the little girl...

He stripped from his street clothing and took himself towards the private shower that adjoined his bedroom. The water was left cold, oh so very cold. Yet that did nothing to change that effect that being so close to Vliss had on him. He frowned, not wanting to take matters into his own hands.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-08 12:22 EST
{Damien, Vliss - The Laurus Wing - 2am}

The sounds upon the door were not knocking, but an insistent pound.

Lower than waist level, the beating came with a sense of uncontrolled violence, as though whoever was on the other side was not rapping, but throwing his fist against the door.

When opened, whoever decided to answer the knock would find the form of Albion Sepherock upon all fours, apprentice uniform soaked and torn, wild mane of scarlet hair flaring about his head.

He looked up through the claret veil with emerald eyes dark from expending arcana, lengthening the string of blood that stretched from his lips to the floor. "Help me." He murmured, before collapsing in a heap. "They took the dagger."



************************{An Hour Earlier}*********************************

In his fox form Albion raced through the Market Place, a blur of burnt red fur that zigzagged around the snow piles and leapt across puddles. Not only did he possess the form but the speed and agility the form included, and due to the many endeavors he had undertaken traveling in that form he was more than capable of navigating it with ease.

He had let his mind go, and because of that hadn't detected the antimagic field until he was crossing through it. He came out the other side reverted to his human form, though still carried all the gathered momentum of his hasty egress from Rhy'din, resulting in a tumbling blear as he hit the ground. Limbs flailed, thick red hair fanned all around in whirling chaos, as grunts and groans broke through clenched teeth and pursed lips.

He hit the corner of a building sidelong, stretched out so that his torso was exposed to the brutal impact. He heard the ribs crack, felt the clench of his lungs, and knew that something was very wrong.

Scenery blurred as he fought to force his eyes open, a reverberating harmonic filling his ears that wound up being his own elongated groan of agony.

He managed to catch sight of a figure rushing toward him whose fist was sheathed in icy blue flame. There were no details he could discern, only that this appeared to be his assailant who was trying to finish the job.

Albion whispered a simple spell, and just as that glacial fist came rushing in he vanished, leaving it to collide with the side of the structure he had leaned against.

The crimson haired Transmuter appeared a score of feet away and watched as the attacker tore a chuck out of the stone wall with that punch before spinning around. He had to get out of there. He was far too injured to hold his own thanks to the damage that had been done internally.

Another spell poured from his lips, this one laborious in execution as breath was becoming hard to find. At its conclusion he thrust out his hand and sent a shockwave racing between he and the shadow, tearing a path along the cobble street with its potency. It slammed into the man, and the force of the blow drove him back into the very wall he had just moments ago assaulted.

Alboin turned and fled, not waiting to see if the attacker was dead or alive, dazed or unconscious. He didn't care. All that he was concerned about was the gurgling liquid that was obscuring his breathing.
A woman emerged from a nearby building, her quick flight taking her right into the path of the staggering Wizard.

He managed to make her out just before colliding and instead leaned in, draping his arm over her shoulder. He had never seen her before in his life, but knew that if he didn't get immediate support his legs would fail him and he would wind up spilled across the street.

She inundated him with questions of concern, though he said nothing about him and only that they needed to get to safety. The echoed thrum of steps approaching the lane they occupied filled their ears, and as swiftly as he could stumble, he moved with her into the building she had exited. She had managed to kick the door shut before Albion's stagger sent them both crashing to the floor. He did manage to turn over and seal the passage with a wizard's lock.

Time and space dissolved into a befuddled haze as images shifted and spiraled away, faces appeared and melted into other forms, and soon he was greeted by an assortment of friends and foes. Quillyan, Mystri, Jolie, and Fleur had all welcomed him to the bedlam just moments before he was witness to Xera's vicious death.

It wasn't magic, of that he was certain. It was something else.
In the end, he stood over the girl who had brought him to safety, her curled form laying upon the floor and staring up at him, fearful of the madness Albion had screamed during the visions. He left the refuge, tearing the door open to wander home.

He had intended to return back to his Dorm room to ensure that Quillyan was not hurt, though decided against it incase his attacker sought to follow him. He couldn't put her in danger. The same logic was quickly applied to Mystri and Fleur. Xera had not even been a consideration. There was a fleeting thought of Saphira as she had not made an appearance in the amorphous fog, though ultimately determined the same for her.

He wasn't sure how he had made it to the Institute, wasn't sure how he had made it past Sartha to pound upon the Laurus Wing door.

But he was there.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-08 17:38 EST
A Morning?s Madness, Part 1



A cold breeze blew, sharp and clawing as it skittered up Quillyan?s legs and sent her skirts billowing. Did it carry the sound of maniacal laughter or was that a figment of the lone student?s unease? She swept a look to one side, and then the other, a pause and careful study between each movement. When the wind died, the quiet was almost as unnerving as the hint of crazed laughter.

"Well, what now?" She whispered to herself, tucking a stray curl neatly behind her ear. She raised the hand again, to knock, but before the action could commence, a little girl?s voice rang sweetly from just over her shoulder: "Indeed, moppet. Indeed. What now is a question I ask myself many times over."

The shock of the melodic answer was instant, more biting than the wind, and each slender muscle in the student?s slight form tensed as one would at the arrival of a predator. She spun about, her long crimson ponytail whipping over her shoulder as she came to face Vesper?s moonlit mad eyes, peering beneath a hanging curtain of dreadlocks. She was a tiny thing, a sprite really in size, not much different than Quilly, but there was something undoubtedly menacing about the madwoman.

"Miss Vesper?" the novice asked, almost timidly, surprised by the small stature of the woman, who immediately darted forward with the suddenness of a spring uncoiled. Sticking her cold nose right up against the pulse in that creamy porcelain throat, Vesper sniffed. Long. Deliberately. And cackled with glee. "Busy you've been."

Alarm flared through Quilly?s psyche; she flinched brutally, then blinked quickly, several times, absolutely still in the close proximity, dissecting the strange response. Busy? Surely she couldn?t mean -- no, best to ignore it.

"What does the seeker seek?" Vesper continued in a trilling purr, rocking back on her heels.
"Um,? Quilly began hesitantly. Should've thought about this beforehand. "Well..." The Groundskeeper bared her teeth, and it could've been a smile, maybe, the spindly points of her sharpened teeth revealed their needle-like deadliness. "I came about the girl you punished,? she finally admitted, her honesty inspired by the chilling expression. "Saphira, the wolf-girl."

Vesper lit up. Excited like only a child could be, rocking upward and even dancing a little, her hands clawing the air in a clapping motion that produced no sound. "M'pretttty!"

But Quillyan?s nervous habit of issuing question after question initiated, and she continued: "I want to know why she was punished.?

"Punished?" Vesper repeated, a flicker of a frown as she tried to remember the event through the blaze of her own sordid and evil plans for the wolf-girl.

?I mean...if she deserved it. I mean, of course she did, or you wouldn't have punished her...but why? Some people say that she was wronged.?

Vesper?s silvery eyes absent all reason rolled in her head as the girl?s rhetoric traveled forward and backwards, asserting and retreating: ?I mean, I just don't understand."

The madwoman quite suddenly grabbed for that crimson tail of hair that swung so freely to wrap it about Quillyan's engaging mouth. "Shhhhhh!" She warned, for the girl's continued nattering was not helping her concentrate.

"Mmmhmm," she gasped into the sudden gag, getting a mouthful of her own hair, but it shut her up. Vesper grinned, sharp needle teeth flashing close to the porcelain perfection of Quillyan's face. "Thinking." As if that explained the quite easily painful grip she had on her hair.
"Yes. Punished her for killing a familiar," she remembered quite suddenly, blinking excitedly at the memory as she released Quillyan. "Killing a familiar is wrong, oh so wrong. Indeed. Mistress Shah even agreed." A giggle before seriousness settled about her like a cloak of violent consideration. "She watches. Her eyes are everywhere."

As if she actually expected to perceive the aforementioned gaze, the girl's eyes did a quick sweep. Instead, it was the bare tree branches, swaying faintly in the wind. Her gaze cut back to the petite madwoman, still tense. ?Yes, but why did Saphira kill the familiar??

"And do you think me spying upon the minds of the students, to know such things? Hmm?!" Vesper said as she stuck her face in Quillyan's, so close that her breath, rancid, washed over her features. Suddenly her clawed fingers curled into the girl's forearm, there would be marks later in that soft skin, "Come. Come. You're in time to feed preshuss."

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-08 17:39 EST
A Morning?s Madness, Part 2


Quillyan repulsion is well repressed -- all things considered, she maintained a formidable calm under Vesper's attention -- a flinch, perhaps, barely perceptible, the bow of her lips pressed tightly together, before she gathered herself to trip along after the groundskeeper, wondering at the cryptic words: ?Wait, but I need to know... Was the girl Jolie at all to blame? It?s very important."

"Wait...who?s ?Precious???

Vesper?s transformation was an odd one to watch. The mad cackle disappeared, and with it, the crazed gleam in her twilight eyes softened. As they stepped into the fogdrenched forest, she mutated, her dreadlocked hair softening, untangling into a sheen of fresh silk, her ravaged features glowing with a youthful perfection reserved for the Fae. She smiled, and those needlesharp teeth remained the same, dispelling any ease gained, "That is a very wise question, Mistress Daewen." Softly, dulcet tones like plucking on a harpsichord. "Is any one person ever fully to blame? Do we not look toward the actions of those around them and question their influences? Do we not ask how their surroundings might have molded them?"

"Well...? she managed, the small woman inspiring fear and tension, yes - but also awe, and the soft tones of the Fae?s voice encouraged the novice to drop her guard amid the philosophizing. "Aren't we all, ultimately, accountable for our own actions?"

"Are you-" The word suddenly hissed as she spun about, mad bright eyes locked upon Quillyan, her talons sinking into the girl's flesh as she tugged her along with a manacle tight fist. " - To blame for being you?" A highpitched giggle lifted the end of the question. "All your own creation, are you?"

Her laughter grew sharper and almost painful, and a faint grimace alighted on Quilly?s features as she murmured, "I suppose so. I mean, I'm mostly responsible for myself, I guess." She attempted to twist her arm, a halfhearted ploy to tug it free. "Where are we going?"

"Let us see. Let us see," Vesper sang. Gleefully. Skipping now. The speed increasing, pulling the girl along the uneven ground, roots and branches, leaves, and other moving things beneath their feet. The fog encroaching, blanketing, twining and hiding anything ankle deep.

"Miss Vesper, hold on, I have class before long...I can't go far..."

But the fog continued to build, a white river of smoke that poured about their feet, wispy after-effects that concealed any chance to see anything at a great distance.

The odd flight comes to an abrupt end.

Vesper?s tiny head twisted this way and that, and she murmured, "Oh Oh. Where. Hmm." The dark canopy of the trees kept out most light as she spun about in a capering leap. "Classes. Yes. Classes," she muttered, and as if that reminded her, she headed off in another direction, lifting the tattered remnants of her dressing gown to make it over the uneven terrain.

The novice watched Vesper tear off. This was not unfolding as she envisioned, and her sense of calamity became ever-more aroused with the density of the forest and the wandering fog, which crafted a dreadful sense of disorientation. "Wait?" she requested, but Vesper had disappeared. For a moment, Quilly was alone in the woods before a break in the trees revealed the madwoman standing alone in a clearing.

"There. There," Vesper murmured. "Shh.. it's going to be fine." The soothing tone cajoling, as if she urged the young woman to relax, but as Quillyan neared her, she realized that Vesper was rocking something in her arms, though nothing appeared to be there. Cradling the air like an infant rested there. "She didn't mean to do it." Glowering twilight eyes afixing on Quilly, accusatory and crazed. "No. She didn't mean to do it."

It was true insanity. The student?s eyes narrowed into small slits, absorbing Vesper's strange sensitivity, stance, and sentences, but her own hands found their way to the curve of her hips, planting there in quiet frustration and defensiveness. Ignoring the senseless mutterings of the madwoman, she pleaded for clarity once more: "So...Jolie didn't do anything to Saphira? I'm just very confused, Miss, and I was hoping you might have some answers."

Vesper?s gaze also narrowed, her lips drew back from needle pointed teeth, and she threw her arms wide as if flinging the infant that was not there into the air. "No. You didn't mean to do it." Threateningly, she took a step toward her. "Admit it."

Quillyan?s eyes were wide.

"Tell us."

Wide, wide eyes, no wider possible.

"You didn't mean to do it. It was all love."

She took a step back, her throat tight.

"Your children will forgive you. But you won't forgive yourself."

"What?? Quillyan finally managed, ?No, I didn't do any -- "

A sound rumbled threateningly from the dark. A throaty predatory growl that was much too loud, much too deep, and much too dark to come from the petite tiny thing before her. In fact...it came from Quillyan's right. There. Inches from her small foot. A pit opened up in the forested floor, concealed by the fog. She had been but a scant step from falling inside the darkness. Penetrating the gloom was glowing eyes and the growl reverberated upwards again.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-08 17:41 EST
A Morning?s Madness, Part 3


The sensation of eerie and immediate danger washed over the student, and she began a careful retreat backwards, her eyes never leaving the edge of the pit - well, once, briefly, examining the crazed expression of the Groundskeeper. Surely a faculty member wouldn't intentionally lead her into danger...would she? "Miss Vesper, what's going on? We should go back."

"Oh Preshuss is awake!" Vesper clapped her hands gleefully and danced up on excited feet to join Quillyan on the ledge, the fog further burning away as the light of the morning persisted and pushed through the dense foliage.

"I'll meet...Precious a another time,? she reasoned uneasily. "I'm sure you're very busy, and I have a lot to do too," she just babbled, saying a bunch of words and hoping that one will hit favorably with the woman. But Vesper was quick, and suddenly beside her. That hand clasped her forearm again as her ?precious? was revealed to be easily seven foot tall, dogheaded, with the body of a man, and a scorpion-esque tail.

Quillyan forced a smile, but it never quite erased the terror from her eyes. "I'm sure Precious is wonderful, awake or asleep, but --?

"Isn't he beautiful?" Interrupted Vesper, and there was almost certainly an erotic quality to her tone. The madwoman alternated between the maternal pride of a creator and the awed tones of a woman. Quilly was backing slowly from the edge, "I just, I'm not, I, uh..."

"Oh don't worry m'sweet, I won't have you get too close." The madwoman purred. "He's hungry after all." Her gaze shot up and whipped around, her mouth arranged in a pouting scowl. "And she's always watching.? She sniffed, ?No more students..."

"He eats students?" Quilly blurted out, completely devoid of poise or politeness.

Vesper?s eyes blazed with unholy light, and she snapped, "Only one." As if offended, she suddenly flopped down on her belly to lean over the edge of that pit and croon as if she were making loving noises to a cat. The creature's eyes blazed with hunger and it paced the depths of it's pit.

"But no more?" the student prodded. "Because," she thanked the Deaconess silently. "She watches?"

"He didn't mean to. No, certainly not. He was just excited really." Vesper rolled over on her back to grin a crazed replica of a smile up at Quillyan. "He's a magiceater you see. Yes, no more students. She was very displeased." She scowled before continuing: "I tried to explain. I did. Certainly. Death was not the expected outcome." Then she sighed as if greatly disappointed and rolled up to a seated position. "I had such high hopes."

"A magiceater?" Quillyan queried as curiosity begun to creep in where the fear retreated. Vesper's adoring tone towards the thing, her unthreatening pose, her promise of no more students put Quillyan a bit more at ease, as long as she didn?t glance for too long down into that pit.

"Oh yes yes." And she sat up into a crosslegged position like a schoolgirl, grinning happily at her interest. "Watch." She cast. It was a sweet summoning really, the delicate tones of her voice plucking gently, a small trinket held in the palm of her hand to induce the Seelie fae to join them. A lesser fae, the small faerie appeared in a glitter of light, fluttering and flittering about like a butterfly. Vesper wove the trinket before it like one would tease a dog with a ball and with a flick of her wrist sent the jewel spiraling down into the pit. Enamored, the fae zipped up and then down after it. The madwoman leaned up on her knees to watch, her excitement palpable. "Preshusssss!"

The beast did not take its eyes off of Quillyan and Vesper. The true pulsating beat of their magic of far more interest than this measly offering. It paced. Snarled. And with almost an irritated swipe it's scorpion tail lashed over its shoulder and slammed, boulder-like, into the wall of the pit, shaking the ground they leaned on.

"Whoa!" the girl exclaimed, the shuddering ground disrupting her balance. Vesper almost fell in the pit, and there was a mad moment where she almost seemed to want to before she tumbled back into the forested floor with Quillyan as girlishly as if they were dancing around the maypole first. The creature?s enraged bellow shattered the air.

"That thing is not happy,? said Quilly, almost laughing. ?Is it always like that? What are you going to do with it? Where did you get it?"

"I'm going to mate it. Breed little princelings, I shall." She trilled happily at the sound of its bellow. "I shall have the perfect familiar in my preshuss."

She smiled - humoring her, really. While this version of Vesper, this enamored version, was certainly better than the other Vesper versions, she was not entirely comfortable with their close proximity. "That thing is nuts." She glanced at the woman. It kind of made sense. "You really think you can tame it?"

The faerie exploded in a puff of glitter that coughed up out of the pit and sparkled prettily in the morning sun. Its end was horrific, as the Denubae used its tail to end the life of the fae, sucking the magic from it in great gulping sounds of frenzied feasting. Quillyan?s azure eyes rewidened, and she chuckled darkly at the macabre scene.

"No." Came Vesper?s honest answer, her needlesharp teeth flashing. "But its offspring should be more biddable...with the right mother." An assessing look drifted over Quillyan, though her delicate form was dismissed quite quickly. Luckily, the student didn?t catch Vesper's assessment, and she mused unruffled: "Where will you find a mother?"

"The Earth Spirit was my first choice." The madwoman grumbled. "She didn't survive the mating. I shall have to glut him first. Feed him quite well. The physical injuries could be healed..." She was still thinking it through obviously. "But the magical draining..." She leaned over the pit and cooed, "You?re a naughty beast, yes you are my preshuss, yes you are." And then she unleashed a fiery blast of epic proportions, slamming both hands down to send a blaze of hellish heat to rain down inside that pit, revealing both the reason for the scarred black surface of it and a hint of the power she contained.

The blast drew a squeaked profanity from the student, overwhelming the questions that were already forming in her mind over the madwoman's prior statement. The novice said nothing for a moment, her eyes drawn into a concentrated squint. The morning was growing brighter, and she realized that being late for class was inevitable. She wondered if she could draw anything from the woman. Any clarity. Anything. Vesper spun about to smile at her. "Preshus is fed," she chirped. As if that were the reason they were out there, she brushed her hands together and began hiking back through the forest, which looked nowhere near as spooky now that the light of the sun blazed through the skeleton branches.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-08 17:43 EST
A Morning?s Madness, Part 4


The beast roared angrily, sensing the magic leaving. The ground shook again, thunderously. After one final look back to the pit, Quillyan stumbled along after Vesper, trying to string together a strategic line of questioning.

"So...I really am sorry to bother you. I just was really hoping for some clarity. You see..." She paused, steeling herself for confession time. Surely it couldn't hurt, for this woman was a lucid as a brick wall, and she doubted her secrets would revisit her. It was a gamble. "Jolie, the vampire, wants revenge on the wolf-girl you punished."

Vesper tilted her head. "Saphira. Saphira is my beauty." She looked longingly back at the pit. "She will make beautiful babies."

"She's really upset - Jolie, I mean," Quillyan continued, tripping over branch but catching herself before a fall. "I mean, I would be too..." Full stop, finally catching on to Vesper?s intentions. "Wait, you're going to do what?"

"Jolie?" Vesper frowned as she tried to remember, her head swinging back and forth. The girl?s patience is mustered, then lost again, sighing as she replied: "Jolie, the vampire, the one whose familiar Saphira killed. Do you know anything about any of this?"

"Eat breakfast!" She grinned, and lifting her hand she cast, drawing a flying morning bird from the sky as if a magnetic pull. It struggled, squawked and fell into her hand where she cheerily sunk her needle sharp teeth into its white breast, crimson exploding and dribbling down her chin.

Defeated, Quilly?s shoulders slumped, and she muttered grimly, "I don't have time. I'm already late, I'm sure I'll hear about it tomorrow, and I'm no closer to any answers." Watching Vesper dine, however, killed much of her appetite.

"Ohhhh, the punishment. Yes. Saphira killed a familiar. Bad pup that." Shook her head, blood glistening on her chin and feathers sticking to her teeth. "Tsk tsk tsk."

"Yeah, and now I think I've promised to help get revenge on her. That's probably a bad idea, right?" She mused, not really expecting a sensible answer, almost talking to herself.

"Oh?" Stopping before her cottage door, she gave Quillyan a look. It was long and deep and surprisingly lucid, her mad grin disappearing. "You will have many regrets."

"If I help Jolie? Why?" She blinked rapidly, clinging to this moment of clarity.

Vespers arms cradled that imaginary infant again, and she looked heartbreakingly sad. "Your children will forgive you. But you won't forgive yourself." A glance around as if looking for the eyes that always watched. "Pretty little moppet, help yourself. Help Yourself."

And with that, Vesper turned and went inside her cottage, closing the door with a slam.

?F*ck,? Quilly muttered, almost stomping her foot, catching herself moments before that childish indulgence. She turned away from the cottage door even as Vesper's twisted visage, her haunting voice, replayed in her mind as she looked toward the school.

Another day.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-08 17:44 EST
All things told, Quillyan missed her first two classes of the day. While she may have managed the second half Smout?n?s class (which was shared with Jolie), she elected to return to her dorm room and shower instead, for it seemed an infinitely better alternative than facing an annoyed instructor and a vicious vampire.

Albion, not surprisingly, was gone. She glanced wistfully across his neatly-made bed, remembering the events of the previous night with a rush of warmth. Despite her gloom and fatigue, she smiled.

***

After her classes concluded for the day, she paid visits to the instructors Tracha and Smout?n, begging pardon for missing their classes and claiming that she overslept. Neither instructor was thrilled, but seeing as she had never missed their classes prior to this occasion, they grudgingly excused the transgression, though Smout?n looked particularly annoyed.

Yet another reason to dread his class.
The sun was setting as she left the necromancy annex, and a sense of pervasive dread refused to disperse, even as she re-entered the lively halls of the main building.

She wandered toward the library, not really hurrying, azure eyes searching through the passing faces for Albion, or Xera, or Esteban, or Vliss, or Bliz, or any close friend. Recognizing only classmates and casual acquaintances, she resigned herself to a few hours of study.

Later, she returned to her dorm room and was disappointed to find Albion still gone. The quiet of the room, the emptiness, allowed a nagging sense of doom to color her speculations. She was worried, without being exactly sure why.

Maybe it was her lover?s absence.

Maybe it was the madwoman. Or the vampire. Or the pissed instructors. Maybe it was the wolf-girl. Maybe Mystri.

Maybe it was a long day on too little sleep and too little food.

After that, one would imagine it would be easy to sleep.

But she couldn?t.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-08 17:58 EST
{Mercedes?s dorm room after the tea & tomes}


At two o?clock, Mercedes slip into her dorm room. She was lucky she didn?t have a roommate She pulled out a book she would She would have gloves on when she took the parchment out of the bag, Albion didn?t see her put in her bag. She live in the house full of brothers she learned to be sneaky.

Damien said for her not to take the dagger, he never said anything about the parchment. Trig came in. She gave him a loving scratch, ?what do you think, Boy.? her dark blue eyes looks around. She moves to the door, her blue eyes check for her class mates.

She moves back to her desk, she opens up her own book.. She lit a candle on her desk. Her words were strong as her blue eyes read the words. The words came off the page, were let on the wall of her room.

?Guiding spirits I ask your charity
lend me your focus and clarity,
Lead me to the one I cannot find
restore that and my peace of mind.?

The light went out, the spell complete. Her blue eyes found the parchment. She half expected the name of the person that the parchment would travel off the page An eerie calm came upon her room, she felt ice cold fingers slide the bare flesh. She shivered. Did she just imagine that? She shakes her head and stand. Her dark blue eyes looks around, and moves quickly to the parchment. She rolled up and placed it under her bed, under a floor flanks. She heard whispers and looks around. Her raven eyed his mistress and flew out the window.

She sits up, and pulled a book out of the shelf. She didn?t get a book from the tea and tomes so she just settle on what she has, She curled up on the bed, she flipped a page. Her reading didn?t last long, her dark blue eyes closed as fitful dreams took over.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-08 18:44 EST
{Dianthus Wing returning from Laurus Wing - Live RP to be posted soon to explain}

It was an odd sight to be sure. The young woman woman stepping from the shadows clothed only in a dressing gown and carrying a small pouch. She would normally be upset with being pulled from her sleep, but tonight was different.

Right into the tail end of magical energies being cast. That was odd. It tasted like divination magic. Yet she knew that Uziya and Tiatari were together and Mercedes had been out with the others.

The demoness manifested a sword in case someone had entered the suite. She followed the magical energies to Mercedes door and her brow knotted in concern.

There was a knock as she got worried, "Cedes, you okay?"

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-08 21:25 EST
{Angel}


How long Angel had been at the door? Did she dream it? Cedes just roll
on her side, and bring her blanket up to her chin. her dark blue eyes still closed,. The knock of the door, jolt her a wake up. At Angel?s voice she blink. She picked herself up on her elbow. Her dark blue eyes looks around her room.

?you okay?" Angel?s voice full of concern. Her dark blue eyes found her door. She licks her pale lips. She sits up and sways. Is she okay? She shook her head, she didn?t feel different as before.

?I am okay. Just fell asleep, Angel.? she answers her through a shut door. She looks at her desk, normal her spells didn?t fail like this. It means the note is more protected than she thought, She moves to her desk, and pouring her glass of water, She brought the cool lips to her lips.

?When did you came back?? She asked, still through the shut door, she thought she hear the whispering again, so she paused, listening hard for the whispers. She didn?t hear anymore so she shrugged,

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-09 11:36 EST
(The clock is ticking)

Restless. So restless. Again, she found herself tossing in her bed, unable to settle her churning thoughts. Bit and pieces of images flashing through her mind's eye every time her eyes closed.

Mystri...Albion....Damien...Faces and words echoed softly when she sought peace and denied her the tranquility she sought.

People, lovers, the scent that so often hung on pairs, looks exchanged. Through Mystri she was beginning to understand and now suffered a growing restlessness. Now she was in her thirteenth winter, she was reaching the final stage in her development, and didn't even know it.

She turned and pulled the rumpled blanket up to her chin, though she hardly had need of it. Her eyes closed and she drifted.

Dreams haunted her and she awoke not more than an hour and a half later. A look out of her window and to the moon told her this. She sighed and sat up fully, running fingers through tousled white hair.

The library was usually good for nights like these. Recently she was having more of them, and had gained confidence in her ability to evade Sartha. She slipped into her uniform and made for the main building. She hadn't even moved any of her belongings to her new room yet, but Moir understood. She was still largely solitary. The wolf in her could not be denied this need.

She paused as she stepped outside, catching a new scent on the air. She turned her head to catch sight of a lone wolf, shaggy gray fur ruffling in the soft breeze. It was watching her. She didn't think anything of it, and turned for the school. The wolf followed a little ways, seeming to know something.

Whatever that wolf seemed to know, Saphira was blissfully unaware of it. What she didn't know was that her biological cycle was in the beginning stages of bringing her the rest of the way into adulthood and her bestial side would express it in a way she would never have expected, though not just yet.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-09 12:50 EST
{Early Morning, The Laurus Wing}

The pounding on the door was indistinguishable from the rough beating of Vliss' heart. She was trapped. Deep inside her nightmare, her sweat soaked skin glistening as she tossed and moaned on her suspended bed in the forest of her private bedchamber. She was whimpering repeatedly, "please no. No. Please." Though a part of consciousness finally registered that the pounding was not the beating her body was taking, her eyes flew wide, golden pits of despair from which tears poured freely.

Damien was in his bedchambers after having escorted Fluer to hers. He had just stepped from the shower and was in lounge pants when sharp ears heard the pounding on the door. Since he was on his feet and already moving, he closed the distance fast to throw the door open. "Albion!"

Face down, Albion laid upon the floor, smearing the puddle of blood pooling beneath him with his cheek. Bubbles expelled from parted lips as limbs were lifeless in their careened extension. He was not dead, this made obvious by the way his back lightly lifted and fell, but seriously injured. Of that there was no doubt.

Vliss managed to keep the scream buried in her throat. An act that had taken some time to perfect so that she didn't bring Damien's concerned figure to her door. Breath came in ragged gasps and she sat up weakly beset by harsh shudders. But through her door she heard Damien's voice and it sounded outraged and concerned all at once. She had to go to him.

There was no time lost as Damien gathered his friend up and carrying him into the main room. Yes, carrying... Tonight events were pushing the demon closer to the surface. There was some care taken in getting him arranged semi comfortably with a mental shout, ~Angel, bring me soulstones!~

Weak, Albion was no more than a body. As he was lifted he groaned something undecipherable, though it sounded either like Quillyan, Xera...or both. There was also possibly a mention of Mystri and Fleur, though those names were harshly slurred if so.

Her small feet hit the carpeted grass of her room and she sped for her door, normally she would take a moment to compose and clean herself in hopes of not worrying her roommate but she was caught up in concern, her door flying open as she rushed out. Incredibly long honeyed locks spilled in one long sheet of silk down her back, her nightgown torn from her own struggles, tears spiking her lashes still, "Damien!" A gasp as she saw the red headed apprentice on their couch, "Albion!" Golden eyes widening if possible, "What happened?"

Damien was standing over Albion's form trying to staunch some of the deeper wounds with his hands, "He's been hurt pretty bad."

Her brother's shout had torn Angelica from the arms of sleep and her Shadow. Sensing no pain and plenty of urgency she did not waste time in dressing beyond a robe and grabbing the pouch she kept the stones in.
This was one of the times she was glad she was able to Shadowwalk. Damien had left her a path to his quarters and she stepped into plain sight. She moved over to her twin's side and eyes widened at the sight of Albion hurt. She dug out a stone handing it wordless to Damien.

Blonde hair was a long silk rope that actually twined about Vliss' legs, almost ankle length, the unbound state was never seen. Normally braided, looped, tied, and coiled, it was as alive as she, vibrant and earthy. She rushed around the couch, a trembling hand first touching Damien's broad back to assure herself that he was alright before she slid to her knees beside the wounded Albion, golden hair pooling about them. "Who did this?"

There were gashes here and there, none of them very deep though one that did bleed profusely from his shoulder. It seemed that whatever ailed him was internal, causing blood to bubble and burst upon his lips. He hacked for a moment, the turn of his head spilling this crimson ichor down his cheek. "I don't..." He wheezed, clenching his eyes and teeth shut as pain wracked him. He dug into the couch cushions with his fingertips and did everything he could not to cry out.

"He's wounded. His lungs." Vliss leaned forward to place her small angular face against his slender chest, listening with obvious intent. "Ribs." Suddenly focused on Albion and able to let her own state of dismay go.

Through his chest she would hear the labored gurgle with every inhale, fluid and air commingled in a sickening harmony.

Vliss' touch was actually a soothing balm to Damien's already taunt nerves. He took the stone from his twin and murmured softly as he crushed the stone over their red-headed classmate. The souls rushed from the stone and to the form of Albion in a form of healing. Hoping to stabilize him quick until they could get him better help. Not the most comfortable of experiences but when compared to the alternative.

As the souls poured over him and entangled him in their hold Albion's back arched so severely that it left only his shoulders and backside upon the couch. Lips parted and eyes clenched, though no words came out as his body was magically altered and alleviated of the damage that lacerated his lungs with broken ribs. It was angry and painful as a result of the dark magic that had caused the damage in the first place, the small fiend who infected his body and sought to possess him consumed by the souls that took its place. He screamed. He screamed like he was not dying, but being reborn.

Vliss cried out, falling back from his convulsing body and spilling backwards upon the floor. Horrified by the agony Albion suffered she found she couldn't tear her gaze away.

Damien narrowed his eyes as he watched Albion. He moved to catch Vliss as she fell back.

Cradled in Damien's arms she turned and buried her face in his chest, no longer able to watch and suddenly given an out.

The tension in Albion's bowed form expelled with a suddenness that dumped him onto the couch, sprawling him feebly across it. His chest was expanding more rapidly than it had been before, and the sound of moisture with those breathes was gone. The dim blue color that lingered beneath his pale flesh started to fade, and soon his eyes began to blink back into focus.

The dark hair twin swore softly in that language she shared with her brother. "Albion!"

Lips quivered as pain extinguished and emerald eyes shifted. Albion's head still remained on its side, the blood smearing it already drying. "Angelica?" He asked with obvious confusion.

Damien held Vliss close to him, knowing the strain this was putting on her as well. The focus though was on Albion and what had caused this. "I called her, Albion."

At the explosion of air she twisted about to see him returning to some semblance of normalcy. Scrambling back up to his side, a gentle hand brushing back the scarlet hair from his face. It was only when he said her name that she even realized Damien's sister was there so caught up in the trauma of the event that she had missed her arrival and timely assistance. She offered her a quick tight lipped smile. Golden gaze returning to Albion."Damien knew what to do, Albion." In agreement with him, "Tell us what happened."

Rapid blinks came as Albion shifted his head, sliding his perplexed gaze from Angelica to Damien and then Vliss. "I...I was attacked" He lifted his hand to help her brush back his hair, though only so he could rest it upon his brow. "I was running through the city and was attacked." Realization came to him with an impact echoing his pounding upon the door. He sighed a defeated breath. "They took the dagger."

Damien looked between his sister, Vliss and Albion, "Someone doesn't want the Headmistress involved." He stated using his mother's title.
"What dagger?" A look over her slender and naked shoulder, the torn nightgown sliding down one satiny soft arm. "Damien? What is he talking about?" A frown forming with a narrowing of golden eyes.

There was a rueful smile on those lips. Angelica was just in a sleeping robe and her sleep tussled long mane of ebony. "Too late I would think." She was able to get the information from Damien without speaking aloud.

Failure. It was something Albion struggled with. He was always focused, always wanting to learn more, so that when the time came and the answer or formula was needed, he would have it. Again he sighed, looking over the naked shoulder of Vliss' in search of Damien's gaze "I can't believe I lost it. I should have just let Cedes take it."

Damien took a deep breath, "Xera was attacked and nearly killed. Albion managed to find the weapon and a note that lends to the theory that Esteban has a stalker."

There was a shake of the Ebony head, "No, then Mercedes would have been the target. She... probably wouldn't have survived." Angelica knew he roommate well.

Albion glanced at Angelica. That actually made sense, and made him feel a little better. Just a little, though.

This was too convoluted for her mind to grasp in that quick soundbite of events, added with the trauma Xera's name caused Vliss, her gaze swirling with confusion, a shiver of weakness assaulting her delicate kneeling form. "I don't understand.Someone tried to kill Xera? And Albion had the weapon?" She tried to follow the thread through.

Damien tightened his embrace around her slightly, "The Short version, we think Esteban has a stalker looking to isolate him from others." He smiled at Vliss, "Yes." He then looked at Albion, "No, I should have summoned my mother directly." He was taking some of the blame on himself.

Albion had considered pushing up just from the awkwardness of having everyone huddled around him while he lay back upon the couch. Strength was regaining, though not nearly as quickly as he would have liked, forcing him to remain recumbent. He turned to Vliss. "I found the weapon last night while evading Sartha. I thought it was Esteban's because it had a note with it that sounded like his native dialect." He paused just long enough to cough into his fist. "Seems that Xera was attacked the night before by an ice dagger...like the one I found. Damien thinks that it was someone stalking Esteban and trying to eliminate the competition." He nodded. "And I tend to agree."

"Over the bard?" Vliss needed Damien's strength and his warmth. Her body suddenly cold, a combination of her mental and physical state. She settled back into the muscled chest that so easily dwarfed her elven frame. Letting her burning eyes drift shut for a moment to gather her wits.
Clear headed from too many campaign in her short lifetime, "And the note? Did they find that too?" Angelica asked.

"Who would've thought Xera competition?" Vliss scoffed softly, though there might have been a burn of something dark and ugly behind the words. "I hate to be the naysayer but that seems like an awful lot of conjecture. Did the note say his name? Or reference him directly?"
Albion sighed. "They must have." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "It was gone too."

"Not directly, but it was in his native tongue."

And finally it struck her. A sense of duty really. Vliss pulled herself from Damien's strong arms on an elegant glide, the sweep of her tattered nightgown pulling across her slender body. "Let me get everybody some tea." The role of the hostess as natural to her as breathing. The long rope of blonde hair slid silkily over Damien's forearms as she rose, tangling with him as if reluctant to go.

"Damien, Vliss." Albion paused until he had their attention. "I need to get cleaned up. By chance could I borrow your shower?"

"Of course." Immediately, Vliss was the consummate provider.
Damien tilted her head towards his sleeping quarters, "Mine is through there, and we're about the same build. Might have something to cover the dignity too."

"Thank you." He said with a nod before settling his features in a more serious manner. "For all of this. I'm not sure how I got here or why, but I'm glad that I did." He smiled weakly. "Thank you both."

He would probably need to clean up a bit himself.

Albion turned to Angelica. "And you too. Thank you so much."

There was a warm smiles on her lips, "Anytime, friend." And she meant it.

Vliss stifled a laugh at Damien's supposition that they were the same build, mayhap height but Albion's slender form was nowhere near the muscled form of the half demon. "Angel you'll stay for some tea yes?"
There was a nod and a smile from Damien to Vliss, "Of course, for a moment at least. I have a very comfort shadow I want to get back to."
Albion looked curiously at Damien. They were not the same size, at all. Albion was slender to a near gauntness, lacking the definition and muscle that seemed to lace every inch of Damien. He wouldn't refute the offer, though. That would just be rude. "Sounds good."

"Anytime you need anything Albion." Softly, there was blood on her nightgown from Albion's wound, and a stripe on Vliss' cheek. Bare feet, small and dainty, toenails gilded gold, slipped across the floor as she made her way to their kitchen area.

Pulling himself from the couch he moved to where the Tanner son had pointed, needing to cleanse himself of the filth: Mentally and Physically.

Vliss Arcanum It was a competent grace that carried her through the motions in the kitchen and she would put together a fairly quick but satisfying meal with tea, laced with iron to help Albion recover faster.


{Awesome scene though not surprised. Thank you Damien, Vliss, and Angelica for doing such a great job.}

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-09 12:54 EST
Saphira had roused from her sleep, Unable to quell the uneasy feeling it had left her with, she left her room. She headed to the main building, thinking to slip past Sartha and sneak some hot cider, a new favorite of hers, and go to the library .

She was feeling a little guilty for not meeting Kish as she'd planned to. The day had gone so haywire. She stopped dead in her tracks, the ramblings of her mind halted as suddenly as though they had crashed into Sartha. Blood. The pungent scent hung strong on the air. Albion's blood! She recognized it immediately. Cider forgotten, she followed the scent, eventually finding herself at Damien and Vliss' door. She knocked urgently.

The door was left closed as Damien and company cleaned up. Soon he was sitting alone in the sitting area having ushered people to their respective rooms to rest. Rest was the furthest thing from his mind at this time. He considered the possibilities when another knock came to the door. He opened it up hoping to avoid Sartha.
Not Sartha, but the diminutive wolf-maiden staring up with impossibly glacial eyes. ?Damien....What's going on....Why do I smell Albion's blood?? Her voice was soft, but there was urgency and concern there. Albion was her friend, and she was worried.

Damien stood aside and gestured for Saphira to enter. He might as well let her know too. "He was attacked. Before you ask, he's going to be fine. He got to us in time." He didn't add that it was a very near thing, nor did he add in a theory he had about the red-maned apprentice.
Saphira entered the room, looking around briefly, taking the surroundings in quickly before returning a level gaze to his face. ?Attacked? Why? By whom?? She frowned, brows furrowed in displeasure, lips pursed.

?I smelt an awful lot of blood.. The strength of the scent suggested to me it was not a light injury. Please, tell me what you know?? She placed a gentle hand on his arm, looking up at him Pleadingly.
Damien smiled ruefully and he patted the hand before curling his form into one of the wingback chairs. "Someone tried to kill Xera and Albion had found a knife and a note we believed could locate her attacker. He was ambushed on his way back here to deliver them to my mother."
She gaped. ?What?!...Oh no..no, no... This...this simply won't do.? Her voice was soft still, but there was the hard edge of determination under the surface. ?Where is Xera? Is she safe? And Albion, where is he?? She felt a debt and kinship with him. He'd offered to help her with her...condition.

"Both are safe and in their rooms.? He replied. ? Xera was having a party with Esteban, who had saved her life. I just sent Albion back to his rooms to rest." He was looking a little spent.
She nodded. ?Good...You look tired. I'll let you get some rest...I'm going to find Albion. It shouldn't be hard to find his room, I can smell him a mile off.? She hugged the Half demon briefly, grateful for his friendship. ?Thank you, Damien.? He returned the hug. "You are welcome, Saphira."
?Rest well, my friend?. With that she turned and left silently, tracking Albion as no other creature but a wolf might. By scent alone.

Saphira quickly and easily found Albion?s room, he had passed here perhaps only twenty minutes before she did so the scent was as fresh to her as though he had been standing next to her. She knocked softly on his door, not wishing to possibly wake anyone who wasn?t already awake. Her jaw was hard-set and there was a ferocity in her eyes. She was outraged her friend had been attacked. ?Well,? She thought. ?Let?s see it happen now?I?m not going to allow him out of my sight.? She wondered briefly if Mystri?s feelings had any bearing here, and found she felt she would have wholeheartedly agreed to Saphira?s plan. The wolf-maiden fully intended to play body guard. Who better for the job? She was an adept tracker, and had not only her elemental abilities but a terribly imposing form at her disposal. Very few people or creatures were suicidal enough to tangle with an element wielding lycan. She wasn?t going to take no for an answer.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-09 14:02 EST
The Masquerade

Moir had enchanted a rather plain looking black leather collar for her. Saphira was now turning it over in her hands, inspecting it. A good job, certainly. Her nose was sensitive, even to magic and this smelt only faintly. Albion was smart, perhaps he could claim it was an anti- flea charm or some such.

She lifted it and slipped it around her neck, clasping the buckle securely. As she did so her fur shimmered and became the deepest black, the skin beneath even darkly tinted, her hair matched as well. Her usually blue eyes, became yellow.

She stood before a full length mirror and looked at herself. Were she not the only one of her kind, she would not have been recognizable. As it was, the enchantment was flawless. She turned, critically inspecting herself. The illusion was perfect. Moir had even come up with a way to alter her scent while she wore the collar, so she would smell like an ordinary wolf.

She focused a moment and the drifting fog that hung around her absorbed into her body and vanished. Making the change to wolf in the usual horrific fashion, she glanced again to the mirror. She did not recognize the animal staring back at her. Perfect. She hurried back to find Albion, she had promised herself she would be gone only long enough to collect the collar from Moir. A promise was a promise, even if nobody else was involved.

Xera

Date: 2011-01-09 14:32 EST
Everyone was treating her differently. It hadn't taken long for the attack on Xera to become common knowledge and Esteban's heroic efforts to save her had become something out of an Epic fairytale. The bard was being greeted with cheers, backslaps and applause in all of his classrooms and she...whispers and concerned looks.

The whole thing culminated in the height of weirdness when she found her friends huddled around each other in the TeasnTomes of all places. Did no one else get that it was a glorified study hall? A fancy library away from the library? HULLO, when you got outside the schoolgrounds you did it to PARTY.

She'd managed to convince Esteban to come back to their rooms with a bottle of whiskey and his guitar. What had begun as a laughing good time descended into something else. His soft crooning voice soothed her wild temperament and his fingers strumming across the strings of his guitar had become utterly fascinating. Combined with the heat of the liquor she had felt warmly sensitive, lazy heat exuding off of her in cozy waves as she fell out to his private concert.

The earlier uncomfortable meeting in the Teas forgotten for the moment.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-09 15:33 EST
Punishment. Ulyssa Mistmark had handed down her verdict with the air of a woman pleased to cause misfortune.

Of course her recipient was as impassive as ever, her emotions indecipherable.

Mystri could care less.

Banished to the cellars on the South End of the Institute, the warren of tunnels and rooms that ran beneath the school, Mystri surveyed the storerooms full of items and herbs. The teacher of Components needed a vast variety of things prepared at any given time and was always looking for a reason to castigate a student and send them to get the prep work done.

She had danced along the boiling vats of mixtures that had boiled and oozed their odd scents into the air, adding more and stirring as needed. The work gave her time to think. Thanks to Vesper, Saphira, Akemi, Albion, and Quillyan she was oddly tied to other people in a way she could barely understand.

Connections were difficult for her to navigate and she only had one long term friend who seemed to accept her for who and what she was. As if thinking about him and summoned him, Uziya appeared.

Their's was a fun, flirty relationship that had formed after their brief sexual affair. They made good friends and she joked with him in a relaxed manner that many didn't ever see.

Not too long after his arrival Saphira had discovered her and offered her assistance. Companionably they worked to cut the drying vats into cakes of components as Uziya finally revealed his reason for searching her out.

"Infiltration?"

She looked at the map the illusionist had placed upon the wall, the moving people and living, breathing quality of it an example of just how adept Uziya really was at his focus. He wanted answers...answers to questions he hadn't shared.

But observation was her strong point. Saphira had offered her assistance and they had practiced concealment in the fog...but...

...Mystri was a loner by nature.

Besides the thought of putting Saphira in a situation of the unknown and possibly getting her hurt struck the shapeshifter with a very unusual emotion...

...she left that night...
............alone.

(Thanks for the fabuloso RP Uzi and Saphi!)

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-01-09 16:42 EST
{Near Dawn, an abandoned Manor in northern Rhy'din}

?It?s simple, really.? Brais turned to face Jolie, his dark eyes narrowed into a venomous glare. ?Did you attack students??

?No.? She snapped, the jerking of her body rattling the cage she was locked inside of. ?Let me out of here!?

With his arms folded across his chest he observed the vampire. The spell he used to conjure her was a well known summoning incantation altered with an article of her possession to make it more personal and focused. She appeared within the cage wearing only a lace nightgown, its thin straps and short length doing little to hide her pale flesh. He knew that she dressed so scantily at night having seen her floating around the alcoves and nooks of the Institute during the twilight hours, which was one of the many reasons he chose to summon her when he did.

He had kept her there for a long time, asking few questions and answering even less. The point of every inquiry revolved around the attack on Xera, Albion, and the wolf left in front of Saphira?s shed.

Under normal circumstance he could have cared less about such interactions, though the way that Fleur had returned from the bookstore the night before distressed by the involvement and violent outcome revolving around Xera had him concerned for her. To awaken the following morning and hear of Albion?s attack as well as the reference of Jolie?s bloody misstep convinced him that the vampire had something to do with it. If she didn?t he figured a warning to keep from any further involvement would suit her well.

?I said let me out of here, you bastard!?

He turned on a heel and moved across the room to where a massive picture window that consumed almost the entire wall was sheathed in an extravagant curtain. He took hold of the lavish rope dangling beside of it and with a yank pulled it slightly apart, drawing a widening cone of dim illumination across the floor just a foot or so from the cage.

Pale flesh became nearly tinged with blue as Jolie?s eyes widened. ?What are you doing?? She snarled. ?Get that away.?

?Tell me the truth.? Brais turned back to her, the violence in his gaze mirroring her outrage beneath a composed front. ?I care little for your kind and will have no issue seeing to your demise.?

?Brais.? She purred, enacting her heritage in the form of compulsion, able to charm with her voice. ?I didn?t do anything to anyone but tease them a little. I swear to you! I would never hurt anyone here! I?m not like that.?

The ring upon his left hand made him immune to such charms.

Brais pulled the rope again, lifting the drape and shedding more like upon the floor. A line of luminous seeped through the bars.

Jolie sprung back, slamming into the far side of the cage. Her slender back pressed against the bars and her arms extended to each side, flatting to stay away from the light. The swells of her breasts rose and fell with a swift panic. ?Stop! I swear!? She screamed.

The sound of footfalls were the only audible entry within the room as he stepped away from the curtain and moved to her prison, taking up a stand just beside where the light infected the front portion of the cage.
?I had better not find you are lying to me, Jolie. You will not like the result.?

Jolie watched the Mage with a maddening vehemence, her mind swarming with images of bathing in Galician blood. She had meddled dangerously with many students though had never taken one prisoner. Had she done so she would have been punished with an unparalleled severity.

Just like everyone else.

Everyone.

Plush lips splayed to reveal pearly fangs, the result of her future plans to visit the Headmistress and speak of her recent incarceration.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-09 23:43 EST
{Damien}

*WHAM*

There was the sound of flesh hitting ceramic. It did not last for more than that one occurrence, but it was enough to signify that someone had a good head of anger on. Though only to the occupants of the suite of rooms heard the sound. Soundproofing and wards had been in place with the penchant for Vliss to hosting parties.

The water streamed over the nude form of the crimson maned young male. The head bowed and his left hand was cradled close to him. A guttural growl sounded from deep within his chest.

The demon clawed at him, crying for release. He'll show them. Stuck-up little snots. Who did they think they were c**k teasing him like that. They thought themselves too good to be with him yet they could paw at him and torture him so?

Part of him was horrified, yet part of him wanted so badly to visit a bit of retribution on people. Yet, he retained control.

He sank to his knees within that stream of water and cradled his broken hand to himself. He was well and truly horrified that such thought would be... pleasurable, enjoyable.

"(vqw) I will not give into you." He vowed, forcing the demon down.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-10 00:00 EST
She didn't argue the point. She said she was fine, she'd leave it at that.

"Hm, just now. Damien needed something urgently." It was the truth, but she was tired enough not to elaborate.

"I'm heading back to bed." Was all she said as she dismissed the sword and headed for her room.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-10 01:10 EST
(Angel}

She smiled at the door at Angel. ?well good night.? she paused. ?I see you in the morning.? she stretched a bit and stand up. She moves to get in her night clothes, her night grown. She moves to under the bed, pulling out the parchment. But she opened it, the love note exploded. She gave a surprise gasp.. ?what have I done?? she whispers. She moves toward the bed., she was really tired. She fell asleep as soon as she hit the pillow.







__________________________________________________ __________


(Later the next day??afternoon))



Mercedes move to the hallways, hearing whispers behind. She paused, a look behind her. Nothing. She shook her head. She moves toward the library. She didn?t know about the dagger was stolen from Albion.

By the time Albion was attacked. She was in her room working a spell, trying to find the author of the love note. Trying to help out her friends, no. not her friends, her family. Doing so put in her more danger than the second year could imagine. The note is gone, the evidence that she took it was the curse that is in her.

She moves into the Library, her heaven. Her dark blue eyes looks to the ales of books, she moves to her favorite section. She told Estaban she read the school?s library a few time. She wasn?t kidding. She love the smell of books. She picked up a iron candle that was sitting by door, up to help her find a book, In a few minutes the candle holder turned into ash, and the candle fell on the floor., the light cast shadows on the books and the look of surprise on the book worm?s face.

Her dark eyes looks to the ash. ?Bloody hell.? She said. She heard laughing in the back ground, thinking it was just a game, maybe a first year playing a rude joke on her. She rolls her eyes and picks up the lone candle.

The shadows played tricks on her mind, she sees faces of them. ?Who ever first year is doing this? Needs to stop this none.? Her voice rich and velvet. She heard only laughter?


What the book worm doesn?t know, Only the Librarian was there, and She just got shhh for disturbing the books.

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-01-10 21:56 EST
{The Betony Chamber}


"I hope you don't mind." Quinnon said. "But I rearranged a bit."

Elkinid marveled at the room and how it had been altered to assume the role of a habitat more suited for a water Genasi than a surface dweller. Landings wreathed the rooms parameter, running from the door outward along the walls to ring the chamber with an elevated platform above the watery depths. Somehow Quinnon had managed to turn their room into an aquarium-esque hollow that featured more living space beneath the surface than above. "Where...do I sleep?"

"There." She said as she stepped past him, no worries as to brushing by as the simple shift she wore was soaked and plastered to her svelte body. She raised her graceful arm and extended a slim finger. "In the center."

Elkinid followed her gesture to the end of the left platform, where a small bridge extended to an island-like stage floating atop the water. It was littered with a dresser, a footlocker, a wardrobe and a bed.

Elkinid's laugh was the kind akin to absurdity. "They let you do this?"

"Let?" She mocked the question with a soft giggle. "They inspired me to do so. It was Mistress Lyricstars idea."

"I see." He strode forward to the edge of the walkway and looked down into the depths, where the scene beneath the water expanded out with the manifestation of a bedchamber and dorm room that was completely submerged. While above the water he was confined to the island, below it she was free to roam the chamber's entire length.

"You're upset." She said softly, her eyes quickly falling. "I'll see about having it undone."

It took him a moment to reply as thoughts invaded his mind, distant thoughts of his last encounter with a creature so indigenous to the water- though she wasn't a Genasi, she was a Siren. "Xuat eszak bauth ol. Ol zhah ula."

"Wha...what?"

His tongue had fallen back into the native path he had once known. He stepped away from the edge and turned to fully face her. "Don't worry about it, it's fine. Besides, I've never spent much time in the room."

There had been a buried tension within her that released with his acceptance of her creation; her eyes shimmered like stones beneath the ocean and she nearly clapped her hands. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He turned a look over his shoulder to the island with his bed on it. "I'm going to drop my things off and head out." He looked back. "Say, do you know Angelica Tanner?"

"Of course. I take Mage Tanner's magic dueling class."

Mage Tanner. He nearly laughed. He had known her since she was a Novitiate, since they were both Novitiates, and to think of her as a Mage brought a smile to his slender elven lips.

Well, actually, to think of her at all did that.

He looked up and noticed that Quinnon was staring at him. Internal thoughts must have birthed silence that lingered uncomfortably between them and he sought to undo it. "Does she still live in the Dianthos Wing with Tiatari and Merce-" He could see that the use of their names was making the Apprentice Water Genasi nervous. "...with the Primorius Discipulus and Apprentice Mercedes?"

That seemed to ease the tightening of Quinnon's shoulders. She nodded. "Yes."

"Bel'la dos." He was already in motion as he spoke and didn't see her baffled and inquiring look. He moved along the walkway, the blessing of elven grace offering him little concern about stumbling into the water, and once he reached the island he tossed his bag upon the bed. He would unpack later.

He had something he had to do.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-01-11 15:54 EST
Part 1 (The Past Blooms Anew)


Her eyes widened in horrified dismay and indignation fired her words, "You know this is a farce!"

Marius Mistmark only smirked. His eyes, possessive and dark, observed the display of temperament with a proprietary air.

"You know damn well I completed your class. I was one of your best students!" Her fists clenched at her sides.

"Oh yes, Fleur, you were one of my absolutely best students." The way he licked the words across his lips and the lust that filled his gaze were clear indicators that they were no longer talking about spell components.

"I will not repeat your class! It is an insult to me and--"

He cut her off by standing up abruptly filling the space between them with his too familiar body, "We both know you didn't complete my class Fleur. You left. Remember?"

How could she forget? Her heart spasmed at the memories that assailed her. The months that had followed in her self-exposed exile the most traumatic of her life. The cry of an infant rang in her ears and she nearly fell, weaving on her feet before him, "Don't do this to me." She whispered. A plea on those luscious lips.

"Fleur." Softly, his demeanor changing, from self-assured instructor to a gentleness that hurt her so much more, "I was wrong. I miss you. I-"

She nearly screamed at the ragged edge of violent anger and hurt that his words twisted inside her, instead a vicious laugh escaping her lips, "Don't you dare. Don't you dare pretend to have any other feelings but for yourself." Her teeth gritted, she hissed, "I will Not play these games with you again. Never again will I be your plaything."

His eyes narrowed upon her though appreciation bloomed in his smile, a rare sight indeed his Flower so angry. "You'll do exactly what I tell you to do because you have no choice. Either take my class again, or Fail."

She'd stopped breathing at some point and the pressure in her chest was expanding. Eyes wet with tears and plum lips vibrantly twisted into a pained moue, "Don't do this to me."

He turned his back to her and slid his eyes over his desk, visions of her splayed across it, "You'll meet with me two nights a week. I've arranged for a special block of time to catch you up with your fellow students. An accelerated class..."

She turned and fled.

He watched her go.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-01-11 16:07 EST
Part 2 (The Past Blooms Anew)

She'd been to the Mastema. She was an exemplary student, advanced in her field of focus, and already teaching a standard Abjuration class while assisting Samcenu Tracha in Evocation techniques. Her classes at Barud Das had progressed to such a degree that she felt strong enough to press her case though nervous energy had nearly did her in.

She'd been careful to keep any emotional appeal from her request, doing nothing to give hint to her real desire to avoid Marius Mistmark. Quick to admit that her studies had suffered with her absence, she did not attempt to shirk her responsibilities only questioned the need of such extensive studies on something she was obviously adept at while working it around her already arduous schedule.

The Mastema's coldly intelligent eyes had missed nothing and he had listened with no sign of emotion. Upon the expiration of her plea he had simply said, "You will meet with Master Mistmark but one night a week. With your advanced skill and newly found ambition you should be able to complete the course on time."

It had been a partial victory and she had closeted herself away with the parchments of student's progress and studies, looking for another out.

And only one had presented itself...

...the knock on Tiatari's door was answered by a disheveled Uziya. Undeniably attractive, charmingly charismatic, he met Fleur Roussea with surprise in his crimson eyes, "What are you doing here?"

And she had hit him with it. To take the advanced course of spell components in an accelerated fashion would allow him to get a step ahead of the other students in his year. She appealed to his desire to impress Tiatari and when that hadn't seemed like enough she had resorted to a desperate plea, "Uziya, you're one of the only students who would qualify for this class. I need you. I need you to take this class with me. Please. Please don't leave me alone with him."

And that's how Marius Mistmark ended up with two students in his Advanced Accelerated Components Class that met late at night on Tuesdays.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-11 17:07 EST
Discovering that Albion had been injured had sent her into a dark brooding rage. At least she'd developed enough of a reputation that she was avoided when her eyes glowed with that supernatural light.

Shifting into a hybrid form she'd darted off to search the Marketplace, prowling along the streets until she found his scent, her raspy tongue licking his dried blood from the cobblestoned streets.

Someone had hurt Albion.

Spilled his blood.

The rage clawed at her as she followed the trail to the site of his injuries. Searching, sniffing, she was just about to shift into an owl for a vantage point of the roof when the others had arrived. They had trickled in, a distracting wave of interference. First Albion himself, his wolf companion releasing a soothing vibe to take the edge off her growing anger. And then Mercedes has arrived...and then Quillyan.

Aggravating her mood was the lack of success in their search. Whomever had attacked him had cleaned up their tracks rather well. Only a scent lingered, no magical traces remained...that and his blood.

The arrival of the Watch excited her. She wanted a fight. In fact, she felt a quick nasty surge of joy at the thought of a confrontation. But Albion had quickly encouraged them to depart.

The woods of Vesper Fey closed around them with a manic intensity, the fog dense, the tension thicker. They had traversed the grounds quickly avoiding a confrontation but she had felt the pressure of Fae Warlock close around them and was unnerved by the desire to answer the howling call of the Denubae.

Prowling away from the party she had allowed them to gain distance from her in hopes that her presence in the forest would keep the attention of Vesper away from Albion and his companions. Whether she was successful or not was hard to judge as she remained unaccosted and they safely re-entered the Institute.

Still angry, she left for the Island. It was only there that she seemed able to find any peace. Escaping the pull of the moon that hovered above her, a heavy weight. Never before had she felt this way and she knew logically that it must be how Saphira felt.

Albion's late appearance had been unexpected and she found herself unable to resist approaching him. Their conversation had gone a long way to easing the discomfort, the confused anger, the misplaced rage. Returned to friendship, she loped back to the Institute with Albion in pursuit, actually laughing and restored.

Once within the halls she traipsed to her new room a certain curiosity forming about her roommate. What would Cadence be like?

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-01-11 17:57 EST
One of the many traits of her roommate that she had come to adore was his cleanliness. It was because of this that she immediately noticed the pile of clothes left unattended. A wry smile of affectionate amusement creased her lips and she bent to pick them up. The sight of blood brought a frightened gasp.

Was Damien hurt?

Golden eyes wide she looked about quickly as if she could turn up his injured body. Calling upon her earth elementalism she sought the bond within the blood, casting a tracer spell with a softly murmured plea of concern upon her lips. Fear gripped her and it was only twisted anew at the discovery that it was Albion's blood upon these clothes and that Albion was even now within the terror-inducing grasp of Vesper's Forest.

Ice cold fear clutched her heart and she whirled with a gasp, unaware that she called for Damien, that his name was a continuous moan of frightened need. She couldn't leave the sweet young man to such a fate nor could she bring herself to enter the forest. Fretfully she spun about in an agony of indecision, tears sparkling on golden lashes. "Damien..." a desperate moan..and perhaps a farewell for she felt death encroach upon her as she made the decision to teleport.

And as if he had been summoned her red-haired roommate appeared, strong hands grasping her slender form even as she began to dematerialize, "Vliss! What is it?"

Relief was dizzying in its power, her breath escaping as she embraced him, "Damien! It's Albion! He's in trouble. I don't know why, but he's in the forest of the Fae."

She could tell that he wanted to question her, to find the answer to her irrational fear, but he offered her a soothing embrace, "I'll get him." The shadows beginning to stir, "Stay here."

It had seemed to take hours. Her heart felt bruised with the weight of her growing despair. She had sent him into danger, surely if something happened she was to blame. When she felt them enter the school she could wait no longer, throwing open their door to escape into the hallway she nearly collided with a very angry and very pissed Sartha.

Returned to her room abruptly she was about to attempt teleportation again when Damien appeared with Albion and Quillyan safely in tow. As it was before, she melted with relief, the simple sight of him bringing a desperate cry of joy from her. She took no time to fling herself into his arms. Slender, delicate arms enwrapping his waist before she was reminded of the reason for all of this plight. She rounded on Albion with a fierceness, "What were you thinking?"

The lecture was abruptly sideswiped by the odd rejoinders from Quillyan accompanied by a suddenly knowing look. Unnerved Vliss slipped back within the comforting embrace of Damien's arms. Rescued by the social pressure of the hostess, she escaped into the kitchen to prepare tea where she was joined by Damien.

Trembling she could not resist the call of his strength. She could read the questions in his eyes but chose to sidetrack them again with attention brought to his bandaged injury, "What happened to your hand?"

He smiled, "I punched a wall."

"Did the wall get lippy?"

He chuckled at that, "Just a wee bit." He sobered a bit looking at her all serious. "(vq) I'm tired, Vliss. People seem to think it is fun to c**k tease. It's not malicious, but it's all I can do to stay sane."

Golden eyes widened as she searched for his meaning, "You mean some girl is coming onto you, leading you on? Promising to have sex with you and not giving it?"

Damien shook his head, "No, more then crawl into my lap, wriggle and such. The innocent actions hurt more, especially when you are told the person does not want a thing."

"Well then you need to establish some personal space. Barriers. If you don't want people in your lap because it turns you on and pushes your limits then you.." And then it occurred to her, how needy she'd been, how often she gave into the desire to touch him, "Wait. You're not..I mean. I'm not?"

Damien shook his head and pressed a finger to her lips to forestall that, "(vq) Not you. Never you."

This was met with an ease of tension before she latched on to the other meaning, "Well you tell the ones that are bothering you to stay the hell out of touching distance. Especially if it excites you to the point where you have to go hitting walls."

There was that rare smile that never failed to make her stomach flip, "Yes, ma'am." Before concern brushed aside the levity, "(vq) Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She assured him, actually thrilling to that smile. "I was worried..." Embarassed slightly as she realized how badly she'd overreacted.

"You had every right to be worried." He said quietly as he tilted his head to regard her.

From the living room Quillyan and Albion announced their desire to depart and Vliss felt a rush of shock as she realized she'd been so engaged in her intimate conversation with Damien that she had ignored guests. Mortified, she saw them off before turning back to her roommate.

It was his arms that she sought despite the conflicted emotions, the comfort of his strong chest that she desired. While a part of her recognized that it was not right to lean on him when he was so surely waging his own inner battles, she hoped he'd hold her that night. Her sleep remained unbothered by nightmares when he was near.

(Adapted from liveplay, you guys are Awesome!)

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-01-11 18:29 EST
Skeletal Closet - Part One



Between the Transmutation Classrooms and the Central Library was a desolate little room condemned to be nothing more than a storage closet; but, more than that, it was the designated overflow storeroom, used only when all of the other facilities were full to capacity. This made the traffic in and out of the little room scarce at best, being really only used during times of celebration or midterm review (as students desperately sought any quiet space they could find to conduct their studies).

Which was exactly why Blizzard liked it. The chance for interruption was few and far between, and as long as he made sure to keep up with his calendar, the chances of being discovered were next to nil. Ozalynne's schedule was becoming a blur of study groups and training sessions, which made getting any alone time with her nearly impossible.

Luckily, they had that closet.

"I miss you." She whispered as she drew the uniform skirt around her waist, a soft click heard as she fastened it.

"I know." Blizz said over his shoulder, a playful wink sent her way as arms laced with defined muscle speared the sleeves of his tunic. "We've got to do something to free up some time."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just..." She turned to face him, her smile ever present as her gaze roamed over him. It was a welcomed distraction as she nearly admitted to her secretive whereabouts. "I'm working on it. I promise."

Blizzard couldn't help but smile. She was always so sincere. With just two steps he was close to her again, arms sliding around her narrow waist to draw her into him. "Alright, I'll be patient." He tilted his head and kissed her softly. "You're so worth it."

Her giggle was tasted as she curled into him, but before she could become too engrossed she pulled away. "I have to go! Mistress Vadten is going to kill me! She's a scryer and checks on absent students!" Another quick kiss and she was racing for the door.

Blizz chuckled as he watched her go, catching the blown kiss she sent as she disappeared down the hall. At that moment he decided that freeing up more time to spend with Ozzie was priority one. Albion had once said something to him about time moving only a tenth of speed on the Ethereal Plane, maybe he'd have to look there. Gathering up his wand and spell book he made for the door.

Blizzard nearly stumbled as the doorway was suddenly filled with the form of another, and he did everything he could to keep from falling forward.

"Whatchya up to, roomie?" Jolie hissed with a grin that bared her fangs. "Anything interesting going on in here?"

Blizzard's expression turned dry as he regarded her, stepping back to put distance between them. "Get out of the way, Jolie."

She laughed and stepped forward, conquering that distance he had just made, her alluring gaze trained fiercely upon his lavender eyes. "No need to be rude, washout. Besides, we need to talk." She reached up with a smooth gesture that was inhumanly quick. Blizzard didn't realize that she was running her thumb across his bottom lip until it was nearly done. "How are things with you and Blue?"

He jerked his head back and sneered. "They're good." His voice was a hiss, obviously uninterested in entering any sort of conversation with her. "What do you need?"

That teasing little air that floated around the Vampire distilled at his resistance. She could have gone with her innate charm, though hated wasting it on those she considered unworthy of its power. Instead, she leveled a more predatory glare on him. "What's it going to take to keep you out of our rooms, spacewaste? Let's face it, you want to spend all of your time tucked up inside of Rainbow Bright, so why bother pretending that you are even going to be there. I could use the space."

He chuckled, shoulders swelling as he folded his arms across his chest. "I was actually looking forward to spending time with Ozallyne and with you, so I guess I'm going to have a use for that room after all."

Again she closed the distance between them, her preternatural speed making it simple and unavoidable. "Blizzard." She whispered, almost against his mouth. "I need you out."

He tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes, defiant in his stolid demeanor. "Drop dead."

The hiss that emitted from her plush lips was barely audible, hinting at the surge of violence she held in check. Her laughter was surprising, not to mention musical and condescending. "Already did." She said as she spun away, that graceful pirouette flaring her skirt to flash her supple thighs. "I want you out, Blizz. As soon as possible."

She exited the room on silent steps, which was odd considering the sharp point of her heels. Blizzard watched her until she was gone, the abjuration spell he had readied in case she sought to drain his blood fading away.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-01-11 18:33 EST
Skeletal Closet - Part Two


Blizzard moved to the door, though one step across the threshold and he came to a halt as his lavender gaze fixed upon the figure at the end of it. Jolie stood at the intersection, her eyes shifting from one end of the hall to the other in obvious irritation. She seemed impatient and edgy as she shifted her weight between her feet, her slender arms folded beneath her breast.

Confusion swirled inside his purple gaze at the sight. Seeing a Vampire irate made his heart lurch. The last thing he wanted to do was witness a jittery bloodsucker. Before he could recoil back inside the closet Jolie turned and looked at him, that mounted annoyance seeming to grow stronger with the sight of him. She said nothing. She did nothing. She just turned away.

It occurred to him then that part of her irritation steamed from his occupancy of the room. She was waiting for someone, that was obvious, but more so she was waiting for him to leave. It wasn't too farfetched of a theory - after all, he and Ozalynne used it three or four times a week.

Movement from down the other side of the hall caught his attention, and he was surprised to see the form of the new girl heading his way. Cadence Smyth moved with a quick step, her swift pace meant to reconcile being late. Though she was looking in his direction as she approached the closet door she had yet to see him, her eyes further down the hall, focused on another sight.

Focused on Jolie.

Blizzard stepped back and gave a quick glance to the side, finding a hodgepodge collection of boxes and pallets stacked together. He needed to leave, he would be late if he didn't, but he wanted to know what Jolie and Cadence had to meet about. Anything that had to do with the Vampire couldn't be good.

A spell started to be cast, though he ended it long before it was over. The invisibility spell would hide him from Cadence but would do nothing to evade Jolie's keen senses. He had learned in Damien's Dark Races class that Vampires were predators and had senses extending beyond sight and sound to track their prey. Hiding behind the stack wouldn't do.

A variation was needed. Drawing his wand from his forearm length glove he cast the incantation, the first time he had ever done so. Seeing whether or not it worked would be quick, for as the last word was uttered and the arcana flared, Jolie entered the closet.


*************************************************

She hadn't seen him leave, but that didn't mean he hadn't. That was one of the things that had always bothered her about attending a school full of mages - they all knew magic. Coming and going without use of steps, summoning powers that could defend against certain undead advantages; it made her fangs tingle.

She looked around, searching the room with a perception far beyond mundane eyes to see if Blizzard still remained. The room wasn't large, but it was deeper than it was long and filled with all shapes and sizes of boxes and crates and pallets and tables and chairs and anything else someone could stick inside when no other place was available.

Traces of the novitiate remained, though that could easily be dismissed as he had recently been present. Convinced that he was gone she stepped fully in and to the side, letting Cadence move past.


*************************************************

The spell surrounded him with a sphere of death, its purposed intended to deceive the acuity of the undead. As he crouched behind that stack of pallets, watching through the cracks, he did not worry as Jolie looked his way with her paranormal eyes. She could not see the emissions of his exhale or hear the pounding of his heart as long as he stayed with the invisible globe, effectively hiding from the Vampire.

He watched as she lead Cadence into the room and closed the door, turning to sniff the air. Like an animal she scrunched her nose and followed it, bending across a table to consume its scent before turning to the woman and snarling. "Right here."

It was the same table that he and Ozalynne had used just a few minutes before and he had to wonder if that had anything to do with her selection of it.

Cadence moved where instructed, stroking the outsides of her arms as she hugged herself, doubt and anxiety battling within her eyes. She turned and sat back upon the corner of the of the table and looked up at the Vampire, the nervous shudder of her breath lowering to that of a gentle whisper. "I'm ready." She emphasized this point by drawing her right leg out and up, parting her thighs.

From where Blizzard stood he couldn't hear what Jolie had said in response, though it must have been pretty severe with the way she reached up ,took a handful of Cadence's auburn hair and yanked it to the side to expose her neck. Cadence cried out, though seemed not to fight.

The girl's head sharply turned and her neck exposed to the delight of the Vampire, Jolie leaned forward and raked her lips, her fangs across the exposed flesh, a subtle scrape that echoed inside the room. As she tormented the soft skin of the girl her other hand fell to delve between her splayed legs. Fingers stroked and caressed for a moment, claws easily tearing through nylon, and then with a sharp jerk of her wrist indulged within the bard.

Cadence jolted and cried out, a whimper that was covered with a laugh from Jolie. Again she did not fight, did not struggle, but instead moved her hips across the table to meet the labor of Jolie's eager fingers. Blizzard looked away. He knew that neither could detect him though still found himself holding his breath. There was numerous speculation revolving around the Vampire and her dealings with students, and decision to stay circled around the fact that he didn't want anyone else getting hurt. Had he known it would have simply been another couple using the closet in the same fashion and he and Ozalynne, he would have exited without a thought. Now he was trapped, as the magic needed to open a doorway would undoubtedly alert Jolie.

The panting whimpers escalated into a full blown cry of ecstasy, the heavenly voice of the Bard making that alluring howl enticing to hear. Blizzard looked back just in time to see her convulse in the throes of release, rewarding Jolie's effort with her honeyed prize.

While he was certain that would be the end of it, as it turned out it was only the beginning, his lavender eyes widening as he watched Jolie descend to her knees between Cadence's weak and trembling legs. Another rip of nylon as the hose the girl wore were opened up, exposing the tender span of flesh near the junction of her hips. He thought he knew what was to come next, though was a bit startled as Jolie bared her fangs and buried them into the upper, inner thigh of the girl.

Cadence's head fell back and her hands clenched, bracing her upon the table as her body again began to shudder. Blilzzard had seen her response to the seductive work of the Vampire's fingers and now watched as she reacted to her fangs. To be honest, he couldn't figure out which she seemed to enjoy more.

Jolie fed, bringing Cadence to rapture once more before rising and dismissing her, the thin span of a finger wiping the drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. Few words were spoken between them, and finally the Vampire departed.

Blizzard was shocked with the realization of what he had just witnessed. It wasn't an attack. It...was welcomed. The tingle along his spine that made him want to rush out and check on the victim was denied as she seemed not only to be fine, but disappointed that her partner had left. Cadence remained upon the table, legs wide, head tossed back and eyes closed. She was recovering. Regrouping.

He was...fascinated.

He moved from around the stack to where she sat and ignored decorum as he dropped to knees and took her beneath her knees, pulling her legs apart.

"Wha...what the hell?" She screamed, though her legs were far too weak to defend against his prying. She brought her hands together to shield the tender cleft of womanhood centered there, though that didn't bother Blizzard. He was looking for something else.

The newest wounds were still open, a thin line of blood streaming down, but also he could see where other wounds had already closed up though had yet to fade away. A half dozen marred her perfect skin, and that was what he could find. He knew that the bites would eventually fade. He looked up at her, answering her enraged stare with an inquisitive look. "Why do you let her do that?"

"It's none of your fu*king business!" She shouted at him, lashing out with one hand to take him by the hair. She intended to yank his head off.

He put his hand in the path of her strike and took her by the wrist. Rising up to stand close, his leg wedged between her thighs, he narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Cadence struggled, pulling to try and wriggle her hand from his grasp, but when she couldn't she sighed and slumped her shoulders. She stared at him, her eyes pleading for release. "Because..." She finally said.
"Because it's the best high ever."

"What?" He hadn't been expecting that. He thought it would be something deeper.

It wasn't. "It's like..." She laughed a little, unable to find the words. "It's like nothing you've ever felt."

He let her go and turned on his heel. He left the room and headed for class, trying to dismiss what he had just seen, what he had just heard...

...and failing.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-12 14:27 EST


?Open the door, Quilly.?

A minute flinch flickered across her face, shifting the native serenity of her childlike features into a design of dread. She frowned; she closed her eyes; she considered not answering.

?I know that you?re in there. I can hear you breathing.?

She caught her breath in her throat immediately.

The voice took on a more annoyed, scolding quality. ?It?s not working. I can still hear you.?

Fine. She snapped her book shut, lengthy legs unfolding with gangly grace as she climbed off her bed. Settling her mouth into a hard frown, she yanked open the door.

?Finally,? said Jolie, the word snapping as sharply as Quillyan?s book. The frigid beauty managed a smile, but the twist of her lips bestowed no warmth as she continued: ?We need to talk.?

?Not a good time. Albion?s here, of course, and we?re -? she began, dressing her words with faux sincerity.

?Oh, no he?s not,? interrupted the vampire, her dark eyes lifting to the heavens in an impatient roll. She slipped by the red-headed novice, eyeing the room - half painstakingly organized, half moderately, below-the-surface messy - with more than a hint of disdain.

?Yes he is! He?s in the shower!? Quilly protested with earnest eagerness, her hand lingering wistfully on the door handle. The door stayed open as an invitation to vacate. Jolie turned that unsettling gaze upon her, giving her form and face a sweeping, critical assessment.

?You lie a lot, Quillyan,? she observed, cruel humor in her voice.

?I don?t want to talk.?

Jolie blinked. She was offended, for a moment only, until that snide sensation blossomed into a blistering anger. ?You promised to help me.?

?I know, I know. I just... I don?t know if I can,? she muttered uncomfortably, her gaze lingering nervously near Jolie?s feet.

?You should help me, Quilly,? the vampire began again, slowly, her voice tumbling seductively over the gently-spoken syllables. ?It?s really in your best interest. Look at me. I?m your friend.?

?I don?t think this is my fight,? she countered as Jolie?s mesmerizing stare elicited the stroke of a chill. She chose her words with great care, even as the madwoman?s suggestion, Help Yourself, echoed through her memory. ?I agree that you have the right to be angry, but I... I just don?t have a place in it.?

?Is that so?? The vampire advanced upon her fellow novice deliberately, her meticulous slowness articulating her inhuman grace. ?Are you really too timid to stand up to other students? Afraid that someone will discover that you lack any particular talent? That you shouldn?t be here??

Perhaps surprisingly for someone so given to emotion, Quillyan had not cried while at the Institute. She?d come close many times with watery eyes and frustrated sighs, but she had managed to circumvent a full surrender to sobbing. Under the attention of this vengeful vampire, though, who was closing the physical distance between them, she felt her throat tighten, for the words struck a very painful nerve. There was no retort, just a pair of widely fearful eyes, glistening now, mirroring Jolie?s pitiless countenance.

The vampire?s smooth stride backed Quillyan up to the wall, and a flick of her wrist sent the door slamming closed. ?You?ll regret not helping me. I could be such a good ally,? came the hissing whisper as Jolie crowded against her, one youthful, uniform-clad form pressing indecently against another. Quilly adverted her eyes, long lashes fluttering in an attempt to blink away ears, but the turn of her cheek left the curve of her slender neck woefully exposed to the vampire.

?I can?t, Jolie. I?m sorry, I can?t,? she whispered shakily, even as she felt Jolie?s nails digging mercilessly into her upper arms. Lips, cold, trailed along her neck, pausing right below her ear.

?Lying, unfaithful, talentless...? Jolie whispered. ?But I like the way you smell. You?re lucky I?ve already eaten today.? She released her with a smirk, for the timid character of Quillyan?s response seemed to attest to weakness. ?Take some time to think it over. I?ll come back soon - maybe when I?ve worked up an appetite. I?m warning you, girl. Don?t f*ck me over.?

Natolii

Date: 2011-01-12 14:58 EST
The Summons

Four have been chosen... For what, the other students could only guess at. A quasit appeared within four rooms almost simultaneously.

Four were summoned... Four Messages left...

Jolie Viette

You show amazing potential for the darker arts, but you are as sharp as a sledgehammer. Report to Mistress LaCroix and follow her direction to the letter.

I expect a scalpel not a sledgehammer...

And Yes, the warning about facing the wrath of the Deaconess if you harm another student does apply. However, You will also face my wraith if you do such...

Cadence Smyth

You are to be congratulated on your acceptance to this August Institute. Report to Mistress Van Blaudin for your core requirements, then present yourself to my office with all due haste.

And do not let yourself be blinded by the momentary pleasure. Far greater awaits you if you but apply yourself.

Akemi Yuritomo

I have heard much about your promise as a mage. Spirits whisper your name with a deep sense of awe. Report to my office post haste.

Be warned, one report of misconduct and you will wish you could join said spirits.

Brais Galician

Your progress has not gone unnoticed. While you may not be the Primorus Discipulus, it is merely a title.

Report to Headmistress Tanner. Your path lies before you, are you strong enough to accept it, young mage?

Each note was set with a charm that would only allow the addressee the opportunity to open it. Any one else would be teleported to Sartha's office.

Revenant

Date: 2011-01-12 16:48 EST
One box of books packed up, her bedding pulled off as she spoke, looking to the gold eyed female perched on her desk, effectively claiming it. "You see, Samiel dear, you've been acting like a mad thing." Comforter removed, she folded it and set it aside. "And attacking Nich like that is not something I can condone or tolerate. Familiars are to support their mages, and vice versa. Attacking one I love is not support. I understand pushing me, though I don't enjoy it particularly. I understand attacking me to make me keep my guard better, frequent sort practice can be more effective then long and infrequent."

Her hands froze and she looked up to her familiar, meeting the illusory eyes. "I can't have it. I need you to behave more sane, I'm certain you can, because if you were mad I have to think that would have effected me by now...So, please, do so."

Sam stared at her feet, pulling them up to the edge of the desk, curling bare toes around the edge. There was a moment's pause, and when she spoke next she avoided Moir's gaze. "I honestly hadn't expected you to speak to me in this manner. I can't decide if I'm embarrassed that you had to do so, or proud you had the guts. That alone tells me that I am affecting you, as I don't believe before you would have threatened me with replacement." Those words soft, her gaze swung up to meet Moir's. "That said, I am sorry I've upset you." A brief pause. "I will behave better, though, that doesn't mean I'll stop pushing you... It just means that I shall control my temper. I won't attack you when your boy is around, nor out of anger."

Moir nodded, her posture settled into one not so stiff. The comforter was folded as neatly as the rest, and stuck into the box with other bedding. Her thoughts wandered as her hands remained busy, folding and packing was something she'd done often enough. This wasn't anything new, and far lighter then in times previous. Only a couple boxes of books and bedding and clothing, a couple trips and she'd have it. The room mate business meant that she had a room further away from the main body of the campus, which she was content with. It meant that the odds of harm coming to her was lessened.

Though, being roomed with Saphira also would probably have an effect on that, as the wolf maiden tended to scare away other predators, and if anyone tried for it, they would run into a rather dangerous mix of magic and physicality. Bullets could be blocked, and she well remembered how intimidating the wolf in Saphira looked.

The collar had been completed a few hours prior, with Damien's help. He and Sam got to be tortured with having their scents changed while she figured it out and got it down. He'd pointed her in the right direction, and sat back and watched. As a final touch, she'd worked a flea charm into it, and laid it so that it could be noticed, faintly. Much like an inexperienced worker had cast it. She was hedging her bets that it would be enough to prevent any further digging into the magic on the collar.

Boxes were scattered about her new room, but all the items within were in their proper places. No wards in place, but that would wait until she had Saphira and Lune present. It seemed the easiest way to prevent an accident, or locking them out. That wouldn't be good. Perhaps an item of each of theirs would serve to ensure that quirk held. She didn't anticipate her room mate being around much, and understood that need for solitude. As such, she wasn't in a hurry for the wards. Though, she would try to talk her into a brief drop by the next time they crossed paths.

Another glance around, Sam was sprawled on the bed, seemingly asleep. It was good to see the wretched cat calm, seemed her earlier statements had done some good. A smile. She glanced out the window, the sun's placement telling her she had enough time for a shower before her next class.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-13 18:41 EST
{Angelica & Elkinid}

He was back?

?and so too was the rush of memories of how he broke her heart so long ago. The soft promises and the desire to get to know her; the acting like he forgot the whole conversation. She had lost herself for a while in the arms of another, but even that did not last with him disappearing without word. She disliked being the wallflower at the gatherings when people paired up, much like her brother.

Back he was back and she dwelled on the quiet conversation they had when the other students had departed for Twilight Island. She felt bad for not joining them, but she wanted to at least rekindle the friendship they shared.

==============================================

With the other students thinning out, Elkinid took up the ales and started back around, crossing the distance between he and Angel smoothly. Upon arrival, he continued to hold her drink, eyes surveying the room with casual languor. ?Seems everyone is leaving? Shall we get a booth??

Angel took the drink and nodded with that smile, "Sure." She looked at him measuringly a moment, "You okay?"

?I'm fine.? Perhaps, though something seemed a bit more shaded, almost guarded within him. He turned and stepped by her, the tight swell of his slender shoulder tenderly brushing across her back as he moved beyond and for a booth. ?Come on.?

She moved after him, curious now. She followed him to a booth and slid on in. Her mug was place on the table.

He waited for her to sit before joining. He sniffed the ale and then took a sip, it wasn't his favorite but he had tasted worse. Besides, he wasn't exactly there for the libations. ?So how have you been, Angel? Seems like I've been gone forever.?

She tilted her head to him with a sip of the ale, "I've been alright, busy as anything." She relaxed a bit, "It has been too long. How have you been?"

?Busy.? It seemed like a good word. He took another sip and then placed the mug on the table. He studied her, etching the allure of her features to memory. Time had changed her, albeit slightly, and he wanted to keep her image up to date. ?I asked about you earlier and someone called you Mage Tanner.? He laughed softly, ?Hard to believe.?

She laughed at that title, "Mage. Yeah, Third year and all. Should be your title too." Still she wrinkled her nose at it.

He nodded. ?That's what I was told today. Seems like it was just yesterday that we were all figuring out how we were going to survive our Novitiate classes.? He tilted his head, eyes unable to depart. ?Good times. Safe to assume all is well with Tia and Cedes? Damien and your mother??

She smiled at that, "Yeah, everything is well. Damien's transferred in and boy is he having a hard time with the ladies." She snickered a bit.

?I can imagine.? He offered a smile. ?What about you?? It was a pointed question considering the reference.

"For a little bit, but... he seems to have... well disappeared." There was a fading of the smile at that.

?I'm sorry.? No, he wasn't But he wouldn't let on as it was obviously a moment of pain. ?Though I cannot fathom why he would wish to go considering the company he is prized with.? A flash, a subtle light, finding his eyes as he smiled at her.

The fade in the smile was brief, "Been my luck. Though, seems like I have been a bit too busy to worry. Telling huh?"

?We make our own luck, no?? He lifted the mug and saluted her before taking a small sample. ?Perhaps all this work you've been putting in is a good thing, though I have to ask, any chance you'll have time to slow down??

"Yeah, I take time now and again, a couple of parties here and there... Sneaking away to the woods." There was a hint of mischief.

?Away to the woods?? His brow arched, this somber mask that fell across his sharp elven features melting away with the show of his smile. ?Sounds interesting.?

She smiled, "I enjoy... roughing it." The glint returned, "Always did appreciate nature... "

He nodded. ?I seem to recall a rather proficient ranger showing me around the school some time ago.? He winked and grinned at the memory of their first few days around the Institute. ?Glad to see you haven't lost that. What classes are you teaching??

There was a shake of head, "Still train... just... well down the darker paths it seems." She smiled again though, "Dueling of course."

?Of course,? He nodded. ?And classes are well this semester, I am assuming? No out of control students or anything??

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-13 18:42 EST
{Angelica and Elkinid, Cont.}

"I only wish, some of the younger student have been attack... nearly fatally. We have a bitchy vampiress around as well." She took a deep drink of her ale. "The school has brought on a few more teachers too."

He nodded. ?I saw the faculty ledger. Seems there have been a few more classes added. Vampiress?? He made a face, angular features contorting into a rather disgusted look. ?Most are nothing but trouble. I'm surprised the Mastema has allowed one to enroll.?

"Me too, since this one is no exception. But, there has to be a legitimate reason." She shrugged, "We've also added Bardic."

He looked thoughtful and eventually nodded, ?Bardic? Hmmm, never been one of my favorites but I guess it has a place. Like everyone else, right??

"Yeah, and Esteban has got talent." She had a sly smile.

He said the name, trying it out before slowly he took a look around the room. He wasn't a regular, so unfamiliar faces didn't concern him. He looked back at her. ?That's good. The school needs as much as it can get. It can only make things better in the end, right??

"Exactly, and he's not a bad person either. Saved Xera's life."

He nodded, assuming that was a good thing. He still didn't know many Novitiates and Apprentices by name, though Xera was familiar. ?Already paying dividends. So it would seem the selective acceptance protocol does work.? It was a jibe at the structure of the school, though a light one, meant more to get a laugh than anything else.

She chuckled at that one, "Hey, they let my twin in. Though a few manage to slip by. Case in point, Ms Leech."

He laughed at her tease about her brother. ?Good point.? The second name drew an inquiring brow arch. ?Ms. Leech?? He tried to place the name but was coming up empty.

She shook her head chuckling, "Jolie, the Vampiress... I was being rude."
Now things were coming together. ?I see. Perhaps she simply needs a well-placed stake to help her realize that screwing around with students isn't the wisest course of action.? The shimmer of those eyes showed that he wouldn't even mind being the one to do it, which was odd. Kinid was never really the violent type.

"Tempting, but then Mom's taking more of a role in Administration..."

?Oh really?? He leaned forward , elbows coming to rest on the table. ?Though your mother is a rather fierce teacher of shadow magic.? He remembers her class well.

"She's the only one the school has. With me and Damien picking up the Novice courses, she can focus more there."

He nodded. ?Well, with my return I should be able to take some of that off you guys' shoulders.? He gave a small shrug, ?If anything it will lighten the load all around, right??

"Yeah, it should, Whatcha picking up?" She asked glad he was back now and in one piece relatively.

?Divination and Enchantment for sure, and the Deaconess said something about maybe a Necromancy if need be. Granted, I don't think I'm up for three. That's a lot of teaching while I could be learning.? He laughed at that. Who would have ever though he would have preferred being class to running one.

There was a chuckle at that, "I think my Uncle Rhyslin is considering coming in as a Teacher. If he does, that might take Necromancy off your shoulders."

?That would be good. Its my weakest school, and while I know that they want us to teach our weakness to get stronger at it, I'm still a little?? He shuddered his slender shoulders to show his unease. He smiled at her chuckle though, he liked the sound. ?So dueling? Just that? Nothing else??

"All three sections. Magic is the main, but if anyone wants the other two." She shrugged, "I also get weapons work on the side."

?I should have guessed.? He said with a knowing smile, ?There was no way you'd just be teaching one little class. Not your style.?

There was a chuckle, "Yeah, and mom has the weapons master chase me around the salle." She grinned as she jokingly described the weapons training.

That seemed to catch more than just a little of his attention. ?Oh really? Now that sound like something that might be fun to try out.? He grinned at her, an alluring feature thanks to his exotic blend of Fae. ?You wouldn't be looking for someone to practice with, would ya??

There was an arch of the brow at that, "I don't mind. Might even help to split Bintyl's attention a bit." Bit of warmth in seeing that grin. She's always had a soft spot for dark elves, and El especially.

The grin remained at her answer. ?Perfect. We'll have to arrange it once I get my class schedule. Should be tomorrow.? He could see that warmth in her eyes and held it for as long as she'd let him, and when she turned away so did he to glance down at his mug.

After a long moment, the gaze was breaking by her lifting her mug for another sip. "Would it bother you if the Weapons master was Ilythiiri?" She spoke softly.

Before his recent trip down into the Underdark the answer would have been yes and it would have come quickly. Though now he looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook his head. ?Not at all. I'd almost prefer it.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-13 18:43 EST
{Angelica & Elkinid}

She nodded, "Bintyl is an exile, doesn't even like hearing his native tongue."

He was watching her, and blinked as he realized it. He laughed into his mug as he brought it to his lips. that would be the last time it would be used as an excuse as he drained it and put it back onto the table. ?That's a shame as I've recently re-familiarized myself with it.? His sardonic tone revealed that it truly was not a shame at all.

She whistled lowly at that, "That's where you got off to?"

He nodded, ?It was. Seems the school was interested down there and wanted someone who was native to the landscape.? He laughed then, a darkly musical sound. ?Which is ironic considering my heritage.

She nodded at that, "Indeed, they are downright brutal with anyone not... pure in their eyes."

Eyes remained though it was obvious that thoughts drifted. He nodded slowly, ?<w> That they are.?

The delicate seeming hand reached out to lay on his. The sword calluses were evident.

Whatever trepidation there was filling his mind, it seemed to subside with the falling of her hand. He could have cared less about those mars upon her palm. Eyes fell to observe that delicate feature, tracing the length of her slim fingers. He looked up. ?You're not getting all soft on me, are you?? Though it was a tease, it nearly seemed hopeful.

"Let me chase you around the Salle a few times." She quipped back. "(vq) And only for those I care about."

The laugh that emerged was quick, and just as quickly fell away as he noted her quiet tone. He searched her eyes for a moment at that and then, still holding her hand, slid inward along the booth bench to open up the space beside him. It was an invitation, though he wouldn't word it. He wasn't sure he needed to. She slid off the bench and then slid back into the booth next to him. Words weren't needed.

He watched her move around the table and until she was fully seated beside him, the closer she got, the wider his smile became. ?So...what now?? It was hard to tell what he meant as the question was rather vague, though it was intended to be. He'd let her fill in the following details.

"Other than classes and staying alive?" She quipped again, "One day at a time?"

He nodded at that. Once she was situated he filled the space with a comfortable recline, legs stretching outward until his thigh pressed gently against hers. ?What a coincidence, that's been my motto as well.? He winked at her then.

She chuckled, slightly leaning a bit closer, "Are you sure? I thought it was *So many ladies, so little time.*" A gentle poke at his rep prior to leaving school.

Again he laughed, though this one was contained, a soft sound from deep in his chest. ?Once upon a time it was, but that time isn't now.? He looked up to her, the dark brow riding atop his left eye sent in an upward camber. ?Things change.? He moved just a shade closer so that their shoulders mirrored their legs.

She tilted her head up to regard him, a little. They were the same height. "Yeah?"

He nodded, the mystical glimmer of his gaze shifting as they looked between her wondrous eyes and alluring lips. ?Yea. Sometimes you just come to realize that wasted time can't be reclaimed.?

"If you care about someone, set them free. If they return, it was meant to be." She had a rueful smile on her lips, "Wasn't so sure I believed in that."

His amusement hummed across his slender lips. ?Well, there is a reason that it is one of those sayings.?

The left side of her mouth quirked up a bit, "Oh that is?"

He tilted his head and reached out with a thin finger to guide a stray strand of her silken obsidian hair behind her ear, the soothing tip brushing the soft shell as it departed. ?Because normally it's true.? Another nod given as he smiled.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-13 18:45 EST
{Angelica & Elkinid}

There was a slight tilt into that touch, "Hmm, normally. Yet, no one can accuse us of being that."

?Can't they?? He placed his elbows upon the table and steeples his fingers so that he could rest his temple upon his thumbs and his eyes upon her. ?I would have thought differently. While maybe fruition had never been achieved, hints and glimmers were certainly there.? A thought then as he arched a brow. ?...well, for one of us perhaps.?

There was a bit of a chuckle as she shrugged, "We both know we are different." She smiled, "Not saying it is a bad thing, despite how some view mixed bloodlines." Slender fingers brush a stray lock of his from his face. "Just the way the cards fell, I didn't think ..." She trailed off and glance to his hands.

Twin index fingers lightly tapped together. ?You didn't think?? ?Obviously wishing for her to finish that statement. His soft hair was easily hers to navigate.?

"Didn't think it was meant to be." She admitted softly, almost sadly. "It hurt bad."

He didn't like hearing it. Didn't like knowing what hurt her. He sat in silence for a moment too long, making it obvious that thoughts were churning. Quietly he said. ?The good thing about pain is that eventually it goes away, and normally leaves the injured parts stronger than they were before.?

She smiled a bit, "Here's hoping."

He nodded, ?Hoping indeed.? He tilted his head at her partial smile. ?You need to do that more with your lips. It's nice to see.?

"You as well, El. You are quite handsome when you smile."

And to that he gifted her with said smile, thin lips splaying in mirth. ?Well, it's easy to find a reason to smile when in such pleasant company.?

There was that chuckle. "I think I can find reason to smile more." A little more navigating of his hair.

It was not long before they found themselves back at the dorms and talking well into the night about classes and different rumors in the school. They made the arrangement to met for weapons practice and parted for the night. There had been a pang as he left and she retired to her own narrow bed. The room was a bit Spartan considering and she resolved to enlarge and add on a bit as she drifted off.

(Many thanks to Elkinid, Xera, Quillyan, Albion, Esteban for the play)

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-01-13 19:57 EST
{Betony Chamber}

?So, here?s what I did.? Quinnon said as she turned and opened her arms to show off the interior. It was the second time she had shown Elkinid the room in two days; it seemed she liked rearranging.

?I?ve hollowed out and walled off the area underneath so that you can have it, and I?ve decided to take the lake outside that runs paralleled with our chamber.? She spoke with a certain sense of triumph as she watched him.

The glowing pulse of the Half-Drow?s gaze strobed as he blinked. ?You?wait, what??

She flashed him a proud smile and nodded quickly. ?Use the ladder!? She cried with a gesture toward it before leaping off the platform to dive into the body of water that made up a majority of their dormitory.

He glanced at the ladder and before he could sound any protest she was gone. She was way too energetic for him.

He moved to the ladder and descended with a silken ease, lowering through a conduit beneath the watery surface. She had indeed somehow managed to erect a structure within the pool, with walls of glass - or something transparent - that gave off an aquatic ambiance to an otherwise bone-dry chamber.

Having just returned from the Underdark, Kinid was unbothered by the enclosed proximity of the walls and actually appreciated the effort as it afforded him more space than the small platform that was originally designated as his part of the room.

A deep knock caught his attention, and with a look he found his roommate on the other side of the glass, submerged and swimming through the water. She flashed him a dazzling smile that spoke of her excitement at the thought.

He looked around once more, again impressed with the work she had done. With a few steps he crossed the distance between them and extended his arm, placing his smooth palm and slender fingers against the glass. The gesture seemed to mesmerize her and she reached out to do the same, her hand hovering with his, separated only by the transparent wall.

She looked at him and he at her, and he nodded his approval.


Later that night he laid in his bed, dressed only in a comfortable pair of cloth pants, staring up at the ceiling - well, through the ceiling, as it was. He was fighting the urge to go to the Dianthus Wing or the Red Dragon in search of Angelica. Their conversation had been what he needed, something to reconnect, and the touch of her ignited a part of him that had been dim since his trip home to I'llystnar. It was far from intimate as they only sat beside each other, but the touch of their legs, their shoulders, their words?they were enough.

He wanted to see her. Wanted to smell her and touch her, but he didn?t want to rush it. He had nearly ruined any hope of such a connection because of his former zeal, and if that fire was to be rekindled, he wanted to do so with a growing flame that would last, not an instant explosion seeking to quickly burn itself out.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-13 20:09 EST
{The morning of Jolie's Arrival - Calendula Chamber}

?Odin?s eye!? He gasped as he shot straight up. ?Fleur!?

The sudden jerk had nearly flung the supple, naked lengths of his lover over the edge of the bed, though at the last moment he was able to reach out and take her around the waist with one hand and the inside of the thigh with the other. He pulled her back beside him, one hand rising up to cup the back of her head so that he could lean down and give her a soft kiss. ?I am going to be late.?

He turned to exit the bed though at the last moment pivoted back to resume the same position, hand cradling her close as his lips again found her mouth. This embrace was a bit more lengthy as he indulged in the passion of the kiss, what was ten seconds if it meant he could taste her one more time?

Finally he tore himself from her, fighting the urge to ignore his schedule and spend the entire day in bed, and began to dress. He was still excited for Quilly as she had successfully transported them from the Red Dragon to the Twilight Isle. He couldn?t decide which was sexier: that, or her great bum.

Dressed in his uniform with his apprentice jacket and cloak procured, he rushed past the bed where she still laid, wrapped only in his sheets. He was impressed with his own will power.

?Try to get done early tonight. We?ll get some dinner or something.? That was about the extent of their conversations lately as they were so consumed with class work and studies. He blew her a kiss and pulled the door open, though before he could take a step outside magic flared all around him and he vanished, the arcane breeze blowing the door shut in his wake.


************************************************** ***


?What do you mean?new?? Albion asked, his thin crimson brow arched incredibly high.

?And?.? Kish drug out the next part, his bright blue eyes large and excited. ??.he?s an Illithid!?

The snap of Albion?s head sent that amazing mane of claret fanning out about him. ?A mind flayer? They brought in a mind flayer?? His question came in the form of very elated confusion. He had read a hundred books on the wicked creatures from beneath the ground and across the cosmos, and to hear that one was on the school grounds, assuming the role of an instructor, made the small red hairs on the back of his arms tingle and rise.

Albion blinked away his perplexity suddenly. ?What about Mistress Praysin?? He rather enjoyed the interim Instructor of Transmutation?s methods and was a bit uncomfortable at the thought of seeing her go.

?She?s going to stay on in a smaller capacity. Like an assistant who takes care of all the overflow.?

?I can imagine there will be tons of that.? Albion nodded. ? With an Illithid teaching the class enrollment should explode like a blind alchemist?s lab.?

Both students shared a look and then erupted into a knowing laughter. Albion and Kish were both excellent alchemists - for the record.

?What?s with the dog?? Kish asked after the chuckling died down.

Albion glanced over his shoulder to where Saphira sat just off to the side, she was patiently awaiting him. He looked back at the scruffy headed novitiate and smiled. ?I?m seeking a new familiar and am thinking about a wolf.?

?Really?? Kish grinned. ?Getting rid of the dragon??

Albion looked insulted. Never would he dismiss such a faithful companion. ?Fae Dragon.? he corrected, though knew that Kish only said it to get a rise out of him. ?And I would be a fool to dismiss such a valuable ally.? He paused, glancing at the wolf and then back at Kish. ?I?m thinking about taking a second familiar.?

The young wizard laughed. ?A second? Are you serious? You can?t have a second! It?s impossible! The bond would kill you!?

?It?s possible.? Albion rebutted, though he did know that such a trial could prove fatal for the caster attempting such a feat.

With the study hour coming to an end Kish closed his books and gathered them all up, a simple spell shrinking the six massive tomes to the size of matchbooks. ?Be careful, Albion, it sounds dangerous. Though, if you need any help you know where my room is.? He flashed the red-head a goading grin.

Albion responded with a dry expression. ?Thanks, novitiate, though as an apprentice I?m sure I can manage.?

Again they shared a laugh, though this one was a bit more hostile. They were associates, almost friends, though their competitive ambition kept a distance between them that both were aware of.

Left alone at his table Albion slowly closed the book as his thoughts drifted to other places. His mind seemed to be in constant turbulence, writhing and rolling over itself as the day progressed. He needed to find Mystri to talk about the tomb. He was sure that he had fully deciphered the inscription upon the face and could open the door.

?not to mention he missed the sardonic shape shifter. The tension, the weirdness (her words, not his) seemed to have subsided and it appeared that they had resumed their energetic friendship.

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-01-14 15:24 EST
{Nobilis Wing -- Near Curfew}

"And then?"

Uziya laughed and finished the rest of the brew. It was Fae fine and as it slid smoothly down his throat it tasted more like a dessert than a libation. "And then me and Fleur walked out of there while Master Mistmark huffed and puffed and tried to snigger the whole thing off."

Myraddin scrunched his alluring elven features, and even that normally ugly contortion was charming. "Snigger? I hate that word. It's like slice, and moist."

"Oh yea, Mr. Storm Elf, how does it sound in your native tongue?"

"Slice and Moist?" The Numidor Prince smirked as he rounded the lush divan and took his seat across from the Illusionist. "Rista and niite."

Uziya considered it for a moment and then laughed. "I'll give you niite, but rista isn't better than slice."

Myraddin gave him a look suggesting that everything associated with his culture was superior to that of the humans. "You need not give anything, Uziya. What does a peasant have that a king requires?"

Another laugh, this one a deeper rumble. "I'll remember that next time you need help with your illusion spells, your highness."

Myraddin scoffed at the thought, though said nothing. This particular human was rather gifted with such magics, and there had indeed been a few times in the past when he needed Uziya's help. Why burn a bridge that may come in to use in the future. "Very well. I retract the statement, no matter its precision."

Uziya gave him a look.

The storm elf lifted the glass and sipped from it. His brew was not purely Fae, but a combination of Fae and Draconic brews that was rare to find. The blend had been a secret passed down within his family throughout the ages and it currently resided in he and his sisters hands. "How are things with your little liante?"

Uziya smirked at that word, Liante, he liked it, though probably wouldn't have had he known it meant spider. "She's...good. Things have gotten better, if not a little different."

"Different?" Myraddin smirked as he took another sip. "Always a good sign when a relationship becomes...different."

"There have just been some things that have happened that are out of my control. I can't help how she feels, nor should I try to make her feel something she doesn't. I feel one way, she feels another. End of story."

The storm elf blinked and Uziya realized that he had concurrently revealed too much and nowhere near enough. Myraddin said nothing, he simply gave the Illusionist a look that expressed his expectation of further details.

Uziya sighed through an awkward chuckle. "I told her I loved her."
Myraddin cringed.

"And she didn't say anything back."

That brought about a mirrored cringe, though this one came with a painful grunt to symbolize the pain of such a response, even though Myraddin's expression was in sinister mockery of the discomfort. "That's terrible." He teased. "However will your bleeding heart survive?"

"Thanks." Uziya said dryly.

"You don't go and tell someone like Tiatari that you love her. You let her say it first. Tiatari is the type who doesn't want love. She'll be that girl who isn't looking for love when it decides to slap her in the face." He narrowed his storm cloud eyes. "And she'll also be the one to divert herself away from any distraction to her studies. Namely, a love struck apprentice who can't give her space."

"I know." He said as he dropped his head into his hand. "It's frustrating."

"I bet."

"No, I mean the....the sex."

"The sex is ...frustrating? I don't think I understand. Are you doing it right?"

Uziya shot the Storm Elf a wry look before explaining. "She's been busy in Barud Das with the Mastema learning whatever it is they learn there. She hasn't been coming home until late, so late that half the time I'm already asleep and the other half she's too exhausted to do anything." He sighed softly. " When we do ...do it....it's great. I just wish it were more frequent. "

"Truly a shame." Myraddin replied deprecatingly. Obviously he didn't see the worth in such a penalty. "Though I promise you will survive."

He laughed a defeated laugh. "Who knows. The hardest part has been her roommates. The other night I came out to get a drink of water and found Angelica bent over, rifling through the fridge in nothing by her nighty. I must have stared for nearly a minute before she stood up and turned around. Talk about awkward. Talk about awkard."

Myraddin's interest was suddenly at an all time high as he leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the seat with his elbows on his knees. "So did you?"

"Did I what?" Uziya asked as confusion filled his crimson eyes.
"You know." Myraddin nodded, his expression stolid.

"Did I...Wait, you mean did I f*** her?" The Illusionist's eyes went wide. "Are you crazy? Didn't you hear me say that I was with Tiatari?"

"And? If she's not giving it to you then you'll probably end up finding it somewhere else. You are an animal, Uziya. All of your kind is."

"You've got to be kidding me." He sighed, shaking his head. "I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"But you didn't." Thin elven lips smirked. "So what did Tia say when you asked her?"

"Asked her what?"

The picture was finally starting to become clear. Myraddin slid back into the grasp of the divan, relaxing. "When you asked her about a threesome."

"I never did."

"So let me get this straight. You are currently staying in your beautiful girlfriend's wing with two other extremely beautiful women and you've never one: had sex with either of them or two: brought up the idea of a threesome to your deficient girlfriend?"

There was no laughter in Uziya's tone. "I never called her deficient."

"You know what I mean."

He grumbled. "No, I never did. Nor would I. Angelica and Mercedes are her best friends."

"I know. In Storm Elf culture it is not only common for lifelong friends to be casual lovers, but it is recommended to deepen your bond. Look at how protective you are of Tiatari just by me calling her something as trivial as deficient. Think of all the good you would do that entire room if you were sleeping with all three of them, not to mention strengthening the bond they share by sharing you."

"We aren't Storm Elfs." Uziya retorted.

"Obviously." Myraddin sneered. "Though you have pointed out the glaring difference between our kinds."

"And that is?"

The grin that crept across Myraddin's angular visage was smooth and sly, something that had come to pass many times over his centuries of life.

"Peasants and Kings, Uziya. Peasants and Kings."

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-01-14 15:24 EST
The Past Blooms Anew (Part 3)

Uziya had proven to be an effective buffer. In fact, she had felt a surge of victory at the obvious upset her manipulation had caused Marius Mistmark.

She would never had considered her desperate little ploy if it were not for her continued association with her ambitious roommate. Brais Galician never simply accepted what was handed him. She admired that about him. He knew what he wanted and he allowed no one to interfere. Admittedly his techniques could be brutally self-serving but weren't they there to be so? This was a competitive environment and only those willing to perservere at high cost to sense of self and others were going to make it.

Brais wanted the title Primorous Discipulus and was willing to date Vliss as a means to an end. She had become his tool to cause probelms between Tiatari and Uziya and Fleur had said nothing. But now, now that she had gotten to know the illusionist a bit better she felt bad for her knowledge of the plan.

Upon returning after her class with Mistmark she had the courage to inform Brais that she felt what he was doing was wrong and that she couldn't consider them having a future together so long as he was "with Vliss."

She hadn't realized he'd break up with the Earth Elementalist. In hindsight, she'd been a fool to not see that being an outcome. Brais had never hidden his desire for her, nor his willingness to do whatever it took to win her.

It was this attitude that infused her with a sense of wicked intent the night before her second class with Marius Mistmark. She'd dressed with a little more care, an attention to provocation. Deliberately she had chosen a seat he'd remember, had conducted herself in such a manner as to incite him. All the while secure in Uziya's presence there to contain the scene.

And it had thrilled her.

She'd felt powerful. In control. Excited even at her former lover's obvious reaction to her ploys.

Returning to Brais that night she surrendered herself to his desire to possess her, riding high upon the powerful surge of success.

For the first time she was doing the manipulating rather than being the manipulated.

Elation suffused her.

Xera

Date: 2011-01-14 16:29 EST
{The Anise Wing}
Late Night after the Duel

The warmth of the chamber would have been suffocating to someone without some form of resistance to heat. Dry, hot, it blanketed the room and even seeped out to warm the rest of the luxurious wing shared by she and Esteban.

It wasn't conscious: this throbbing, pulsating, and vibrant heat.

She'd left the Island in a bit of a pique. Irritation having bloomed at her companion's actions combined with what had happened in the dueling ring.

Esteban's explanation had left her uncomfortable. Damien had been one of her closest friends and their relationship was now considerably strained. She had wanted answers. Answers to why she seemed to cause him pain. The answers had shocked her.

She felt a quiver deep within her at the thought of being the source of arousal. She hadn't meant to be provocative. In fact, she had barely understood that she could be. Esteban's succinct explanation and revelation that she could be causing the same response in him was shocking to say the slightest. A soft moan of confusion and something else entirely parted her lips and she rolled restlessly upon her mattress, the sheets tangling around her.

And then the duel itself. When the furred man had informed her that his magic was "different" she'd only half listened. Quick to move to the exciting parts...and they had been particularly exciting. Beneath the sheets her legs twined and slid against each other, her skin sensitve and flushed with each sweet undulation.

Bothered by her reactions at the time she had hoped to find distraction in Quillyan and Albion but their attention was solely upon each other. Engaged in their own mating, Xera had found herself frustrated. The beer hadn't soothed her agitated edges any and even now she felt her throat parch, dry and constricting as a smoky sound of need slipped free.

She writhed upon her bed, suddenly too hot, too sensitve, too ...excited... too...

"Flamin' Firesticks!" She growled, angrily peeling the sheets from her skin and launching herself toward the dresser. There was no way she was getting any sleep tonight.

Sliding one leg into her jeans and then the other she shimmied them over her hips, gasping at the pressure upon her thighs and her body's reaction. Angrily she buttoned them and grabbed a top only to discover that her current state made her first choice a bad one, her excitement visible. "That's just smokin'," She groaned. Snatching a jacket even though she was entirely too warm to wear one, she grabbed up her boots and stomped out. Slamming the door to the suite behind her.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2011-01-14 20:21 EST
{Shortly after that.}

Ai de mi... It's a lot harder to follow someone when they can pull off teleportations that easy. The Bard still hadn't quite mastered that technique (and it wasn't likely he ever would. After all, he didn't want to wind up at the Hotel California... ), so using the heel-and-toe express made for a late-night arrival at his own doorstep.

Sneaking past Sartha and the rest made it an even longer trek, of course.

Knock, knock. "Xera? ?Fuego de pelo? Everything alright in there?"

Of course there's no response. How could he know she'd left already?

"Come on, querida, I'm... I'm here if you want to talk... "

Still nothing.

So, instead, he took himself to bed, leaving his door opened a crack. That was his way of letting her know she could come in when she needed to.

Not that she bothered with knocking overmuch... one of her endearing qualities.

He plinked on the guitar until he just couldn't keep his eyes opened, then gave the front door a whistle. He'd been working on his warding spells. Keeping the latticework of the spell in mind, he told the spell to keep the door shut tight, unless he said otherwise. Since Xera usually came in through the hearth...

Given the heat in their rooms, he opted for sleeping on top of the comforter in his PJ pants. Muuuuch more comfortable that way.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-16 14:55 EST
"You're awake." The words sang sweetly from the tiny kitchenette that they shared and brought her over in a roll made sinuous by the very real lack of stiffness in her joints.

She'd slept good. Hard. A deep relaxed easing of tension, her last memory of the night had been Cadence's sultry voice purring out a lullaby.

Fluidly she pushed along her back letting her head fall off the edge to hang a sweep of pink stained white hair to the floor.

Upside down Cadence looked just as strange to her as she did right side up. She narrowed minty blue eyes, pierced lips thinning into a frown. She was not particularly a happy person when awakened.

Before she could growl the cynical pissant response that hovered there, Cadence burst into song, spinning about in an elegant twirl, arm crooked at the elbow and one leg extending with obvious training.

Startled, the shapeshifter's eyes flared wide at this development and she almost snarled.

And then it occurred to her that she liked whatever the bard was singing. Sweet, dulcet and unassumingly chipper, the song swept over Mystri and encouraged her to recognize the stirring of energy within her own body.

She slid from the bed with a push of her feet against the wall, flipping over to land with feral grace. A confused look danced across her features as she felt rejuvenated. Energetic even. Stretching up in sensual glide that arched her ribs and sent her arms climbing high, tip toes found.

She felt Good.

Really Good.

A roll of her head released the kinks and she found herself moving toward their small shower stall with a pep to her step. The urge to smile was tickling her lips and she was startled to discover that she wanted to join the twirling and gliding bard in her bellydancing. For now she ignored the urge, stepping beneath the spray of water and letting it pour down over her naked body. Even through the weak splash of water she could hear the throaty hum of her roommate and had to admit the girl had pipes.

Out of the shower, she passed Cadence who giggled as they bumped past one another. Startled she felt the tickle of a laugh tease her throat and playfully she spun, slapping her wet hair about and spraying the girl.

"Hey you!" Cadence laughingly protested and stole Mystri's towel with a nimble grab, spinning it and thwapping the snowy white ass of her roommate.

"AH!" The stinging slap had her jumping in the air, wide mystified eyes trailing over her toned body to stare at the pink mark that marred her soft flesh.

The standoff was tense. Wide chocolate brown eyes pooling with horror as they drank in the enigmatic mint blue ones.

And then Mystri laughed. Her giggle pure and angelic, a delicate sound of tinkling chimes.

Relieved the sultry songstress added her laugh to hers.


Fifteen minutes later the girls parted outside their room, a smile playing about their lips.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-16 16:39 EST
Dianthus Wing

Footsteps in the halls behind her in a darken hall. She turned around, the end of wand lit trying to fight the shadows that surround her. She was getting scared. She was trying to scream but she couldn?t. She started running, trying to find her room. Shadows are like ice touching her skin. She spin trying to fight against the shadows.


She awoke up with a start. A half suppressed yell for she was holding a pillow tight against her. Then what she done last night, her two beers and half of bottle of ever clear. She rubbed her forehead and gave a moan. Her head throbs with sound in the halls, every footsteps echoes.

What she done last night, she remember Damien and the gorgeous Esteban, Her heart aches when she thought about him. ?Oh my God.? She mumbles. There was some light come in her room from the window. She moves to closed the curtain.

She remember the Egyptian looking Moir last night. She was sweet, and beautiful. She must fell asleep on her. Because the other student is nowhere in her room. She went pour some water in a glass. She brought it to her lips. She took a sip.

She saw something in the shadows. She dropped her glass. It broke sending little pieces and water all over the floor. She let out a curse. And moves out of her room, grabbing a few things to clean up. She sighs as she moves back to her room..

She sighs, and kneels down in her skirt. Setting the towel on the spill. She thought about Esteban. Her heart beat speed up. She wanted a kiss from him. She wanted more. She slide a hand through her dark hair. She moves back to the living room and settle by the fire. Her head still throb. But she couldn?t sleep it off. Her dreams???.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-17 20:24 EST
Quillyan was warm.

Waking thoughts, drifting through her slowly-dawning consciousness, were a meager handful of indistinct sensations focusing against the inky infinity of dreams. Yes: she was warm, and she liked it. Against her cheek, the heat source moved in a small, gently-rhythmic wave, rolling in perfect time with the faint lift of her own naked back.

A content sigh lazily parted flushed lips, modestly disrupting their synchronized breathing as she shifted lean limbs against the other figure. Albion?s slender, hard form actually made a very pleasant pillow, even with her svelte body only half-thrown over him: her cheek to his chest, fingers splayed possessively there as well, the firm swells of her breasts pressing to his side, and one lengthy leg hooked over his hips. Where once his arm had curled affectionately at her narrow waist, the easing tension of sleep had laid it straight against the sheets, palm open to the still morning air.

She was warm, indeed. In fact, as the events of the previous night came drifting back to her, the pleasant coziness shifted to a compelling heat: mischievous flirting at the Dragon - lustful promises, clandestine kisses and caresses - followed by a frenzied realization of their building desire upon returning to the dorm: hard, ungraceful, hungry. Afterwards, breathlessly undone by their own feverish urges but still amorous, they indulged in each other again more slowly, artfully whispered arcania sensually assisting a gradual building pleasure no less intense than rough release of the previous round. And this was how hours vanished into the darkness.

Where now fatigue might be expected, she felt instead vibrant and thrilled, reverberating with energy, especially when she realized that her waking was earlier than necessary. Instead of surrendering again to sleep, she elected to rouse her roommate; the hand upon his chest thrummed fingers once, almost a warning, before spilling down his stomach, and farther, enticing both body and mind to wake with a soft palm and nimble fingers curled around the idle masculine length. Gentle, sleepy strokes urged him from slumber.

***

It was a good day.

Class flew by, the various exercises and ordeals completed effortlessly, amid endlessly friendly peers, under the benevolent and approving gaze of masterful instructors - or so she, the hopelessly infatuated one, did perceive.

Even Smout?n?s class, typically such a trial, managed to pass with little interruption to her simplistic joy. Jolie issued nary a threat or curse, for their illustrious teacher was in the mood for lecture, and before and after class, Quillyan traded playful quips with other peers, freely ignoring the glowering creature who usually consumed so much of her attention.

For the first time in weeks, everything seemed... good. Easy. Good.

Even Sartha seemed to smile at her.

But that was probably just her imagination.

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-01-18 14:37 EST
Chains rattled as distant cries alerted him to the agony suffered by fiendish menace.

The phosphorescing glow of fungus and molds illuminated jagged cavernous walls, familiar walls, that filled his Ilythiiri eyes with sights that he had seen for many decades below the surface.

Sounds emerged from behind his ear. Lustful sounds. He swallowed as his jaw tightened, along with the slender sinew that lined his shoulders.

Hesitation stilled his step, though eventually he slanted his chin and turned to see the source of the sound.

An altar forged of ashen stone was elucidated by some unknown light, and upon it was Angelica, bedecked in the uniform of the Institute, with supple thighs splayed to accommodate the presence of her own fingers. She writhed upon the altar with serpentine sensuality, pleading softly. "Please, Kinid...please..."

He gasped, his elven eyes flaring to light with a soft crimson glow. Muscle tightened and blood surged as he fought his natural instinct to comply.
A scream from behind, one of anguish, tore his gaze from the allure of Angelica's entreaty, and he spun about.

Black chains adorned with jagged shackles bound the wrists of an enthralling body of browned flesh stripped of clothing, taut and supple muscles lining a feminine frame.

She dangled, stretched completely, her small toes just barely able to scrape the floor, though as she shifted and struggled for leverage her thick black hair swept to the side and revealed her.

"Angel." Elkinid breathed. His heart dropped a few inches and the blood that surged through him, just moments ago searing beneath his flesh, was suddenly ice cold. He wanted to take a step forward, but didn't. Couldn't.

From the darkness came the crack of a whip, and as it struck it tore a scream from her beautiful lips. The impact spun her about, showing him the thin red line that now marred her back.

"Nau!" He roared. "Vrine'winith!" Again he tried to step forward and could not. Flaring eyes shifted between Angelica's hanging form and the darkness, trying to find the wielder of the weapon.

Again came the violent lash, and again came the scream.

After a few lazy rotations Angelica's spin faded to an end, leaving her weak and gasping for the breath, breasts rising and falling with the filling of lungs, and slowly she looked up at him. "Please, Kinid...please."

He slammed his fist forward and struck something solid, invisible, the catalyst for his immobility.

Pointed ears piqued at the sounds coming from behind, a rhythmic humming laced with a muffled lament. His shoulders turned though his eyes remained upon Angelica, who hung with feeble interest, staring at him with weakened eyes. Finally, though, he pulled his gaze from her.

He was startled to see the naked back of a male drow whose muscles were clenched with exertion. Hips gave a light sway back and forth as the male dropped his head and growled into the air. Obscured by the angle was a woman who knelt before him, she the source of the stifled moaning and paced thrum. Her thick hair swung against the opposition of his hips, giving hint as to the lascivious activity they engaged in.

The growl strained into a snarl, muscles tightened and motion ceased as climax conquered him and gifted her.

With the resonance of moist, passionate suction, they disengaged and in unison turned to face him - the male standing tall and dominant and the woman still knelt at his side, arms around his leg, head against his hip. Hair shifted and eyes raised, and once more it was Angelica, though this time she was bedecked in the leather-web mesh of a slave uniform. The garment was a mockery of actual clothing as it sheathed only the shoulders, stomach, and thighs but left the breasts, hips and buttocks bare.

The male, standing beside her...was him; Elkinid' Qualn, Mage Prince of House Teken'irrt.

Paralyzed by the sight, his gaze shifted between the sardonic smirk that adorned his reflection's sharp visage and the glimmering submission that filled Angelic's eyes. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't blink.

Knelt beside him - the drow - Angelica looked up, and parted her swollen, glistening lips. "Please, Kinid...please."

To which his echoed image flashed a vicious smirk and pivoted about, the dagger he held in his left hand - an instrument that was not there a moment before - plunged into her chest, buried within her heart. She gasped, a dollop of blood expelled from those sensual tiers before they slowly drew into a smile.

Grabbed by the shoulder he was spun around before he could respond or react, bringing him face to face with the image of Angelica. She wore the Mage Uniform, and took a step toward him.

"Take me."

Between blinks she was naked, her skin lacerated with whip lashes. Her face was contorted in pain, her eyes flaring with an inner betrayal that he knew the source of. Another step taken.

"Punish me."

Another blink and she wore the slave attire of his house, those same eyes that just moments ago held pain now infused with the familiar hopelessness his House imparted upon their property. A final step and she was so close that he could taste her breath.

"Kill me."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~


"Angel!"

He shouted her name as he sat straight up, the rippling sinew of his naked chest glistened with beads of perspiration as it expanded with laborious effort. He couldn't catch his breath.

He forced his calm, forced his center to return, a concentration that was developed over the years to progress his casting, though able to be used for a variety of purposes.

He could see her face in all three facets; pleasured, pained, and defeated. They burned like afterglow, just behind his eyes, fading from focus with every turn or shift.

He moved across the bed toward the edge and started to pull the sheets away but stopped when he felt the gelatinous ooze that streaked across his thighs in conjunction with the covers. Startled, he pulled them away only to find the remnants of his own release seeping from his expended member and puddling about. Shocked and, though alone, he was a bit embarrassed if only due to what it signified.

Words came into his mind. Words of the Siren. The last words she had ever spoken to him.

Dos ph'vel'bol dos ph'.

You are what you are.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-19 14:45 EST
The Night of the Twilight Island Duels

Lunar Scents
Part 1

Irritation blossomed at the dawdling figure who lingered over the twining vine that they were sent to collect, ?Kish. Now.?

The sharp tones of Mystriana were warning enough that her patience was growing thin but it was evident long before she?d opened her mouth. As the night had descended around them, the moon had risen in the sky, heavy and forbidding. Her movements had grown increasingly agitated and even the normally oblivious Kish was catching on, ?What?s the deal, Mystri? Normally you?re like the best one to take on these trips??

And he was right. And because of this she growled low in her throat. Pacing away from him in an increasing circle, the weight pushing down from above and demanding that she look up and acknowledge it; she wished again that she?d just told him no and gone with the others to Twilight Island where the moon?s pull seemed diminished by the perpetual twilight.

?Look, I don?t want to talk about it. Just get your damn herb and let?s go.? She hissed, resisting the urge to crouch down as if she could escape the weight by slinking lower.

?You know you?ve kind of been treating me like that for awhile now?? The shaggy blonde hair was tossed back as he stopped harvesting the needed component to pin her with wide blue eyes, ?Ever since you stayed the night with Akemi and I??

At the mention of his roommate she snarled suddenly and lashed into a tight circle, if she?d currently had a tail in this form it would be warning him of the troubled ground he tread upon.

?Whoa!? His eyes widened and a hand sought to wave her down quickly, ?Okay, Okay. I?ll just get the plant.? A hurt look suffused his features as he turned his back to her and went dutifully back to cutting.

Guilt was a swift kick, after all Kish had never done anything to her and she?d actually felt his concern for Saphira a time or two. That alone earned him special treatment, ?Kish, it?s the moon. Not you.? And as far as apologies went it was the best the shapeshifter had to offer.

They?d been ?friends? long enough now that Kish recognized the peace offering for what it was turning back toward her with his boyish grin renewed, ?The moon? I thought you weren?t influenced by lunar cycles?? Curiosity, always present there within his gaze.

?I?m not.? Aggravated she stopped the pacing she hadn?t realized she was doing and lowered herself into the soft moss of the forested floor, stretching out on her back and deliberately locking her mint blue eyes on what was fast becoming her nemesis. The big ball of luminescence seemed to mock her in its position in the sky...nearly full. She resisted the urge to squirm beneath it, facing it like she would any other opponent.

?Well then did you get bit or...wait is this because of Saphira?? Fascinated he moved toward her, unable to resist letting his eyes follow along the athletic lines of her prone body. He was a teenager after all and hormones, even in the magically inclined, were potent.

?Yea, it?s our bond I think.? She frowned, her eyes never leaving the moon even as he approached, a sinuous glide to her body as she undulated beneath its blanketing light.

?That is Righteous!? Remembering Saphira?s transformation he?d witnessed he trembled at the thought of all of that beauty and power. He?d dreamt about her since and had he any idea that Albion had a date set to witness her full transformation the jealousy would?ve certainly eaten him alive.

?Our bond has its moments.? Her thoughts not on the transformation or this uncomfortable connection to the moon, but instead on Lune the girls? familiar. She?d never wanted a familiar before and yet her bond with the owl was certainly in place. She?d been commended by Mistress Praysin for her dedication in achieving that qualification and had nearly dropped her books in surprise. Managing to nod her way through it she had pretended as if it had been intentional but privately new better.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-19 14:48 EST
Lunar Scents
Part 2

As if to mock her, an odd scent twining around her with a seductive urge. Sitting up abruptly, the movement so fluidly inhuman that it had Kish exploding in another exclamation of appreciation, stumbling back from her and falling on his rump. His laugh, full bodied and youthful, ?A little warning next time Myst!?

Twisting onto all fours she looked first one way and then the other, a low growl purring in the base of her throat as the pheromones washed over her unexpectedly. Their ethereal touch felt otherworldly and she was assaulted with a confusion that was not her own. Saphira.

He made a face at the sight of her bent before him within touching distance, his laugh choking slightly, ?Uhh..Myst, everything good over there?? A hard swallow as she rocked back on her legs and lifted her head to the sky, sniffing, her shoulders dropped back and the moon bathing over her knelt form.

?Do you smell that??

?Uh. No.? He answered around a growing discomfort, pushing to his own knees and meaning to rise.

She lashed out a hand to stall him, a hand upon his shoulder, suddenly inches from him. Her pupils were dilated with arousal, a fine shimmer wracked her. Lips parted on a soft wanting mewl.

He gasped and stammered, ?B-but what do do you smell??

?Sex. I smell sex.? She leaned into him so close her body brushed up against his, a long inhale taken from about the center of his chest up over his collarbone, her nose guiding along his throat and urging his head to fall back on a groan. Her own followed course and she stared up at that moon and its demanding pull, assaulted by pheromones that were nowhere near her. Indeed, they filtered over her roommate a realm away. Arching on a low moan she pressed her body taut to Kish?s and was greeted with his obvious reaction, his hands gripping spasmodically upon her hips to hold her flush to him.

?M-mystri?? His chin lowered to bring wide swimmingly confused and aroused eyes to hers. Her answer was to claim his surprised lips with her own, moist and warm they pressed into his, parting around his lower lip and suckling it within her mouth, the gentle warning nip of her teeth felt.

He gasped. His hands jerking on her hips and grinding them closer which elicited a low growl of warning want to ripple from her throat. Using her tongue as a placeholder upon that lower lip of his, she arched upward and slid it into his mouth, her lips melding with his as she explored the taste of him. One hand climbed around his shoulder, the other tangled in his hair to hold him still as she subjected himself to her invasion.

As the first wave of pheromones drifted past she didn?t stop for a moment. Instead that kiss progressed into a hungry, hot, wet, glide of mastery. Pulling away only after his shoulders heaved with the need for air, his heart thundered so loudly against her chest she couldn?t hear the beat of her own heart anymore and his hands had subconsciously left their bruised marks upon her milky white flesh.

Dazed, he weaved before her on his knees, wanting nothing more than to push her down upon the moss-coated forested floor. She read the need in his eyes and nearly answered it, after all, arousal was a hot hard ball of constriction in her abdomen. But this was Kish.

?Saphira just had a run in with pheromones.? She explained and instead of rolling back from him and giving him the impression that she was surrendering to his desires, she pushed upward, the movement drew her body up his and left him knelt before her, his face on level with her waist. She brushed the blonde mop of hair back and looked down at him with hungry eyes.

?Did...did I mention that I really think your bond is...?A shuddering breath...?Just...hot.?

She laughed, a startled sound of angelic purity, quickly coughed back and stepped away from him. Gathering up their things she gave him a moment to compose himself and said and did nothing that might make him uncomfortable. His eyes followed her for a long moment before he rose up and assisted and before long they were headed back toward the Institute in companionable silence.

They parted ways with a gentle ease once reaching campus grounds and she made a decision to head toward Twilight Island, only to stop partway toward the portal surprised to find her senses assaulted by pheromones again. More in control this time, prepared for the bond she still hesitated. Saphira didn?t feel threatened, in fact there appeared to be amusement mixed with her confusion and Mystri?s intense reaction would be definitely more physical and demanding. Rather than subject her bondmate to it, she shifted into a great cat and loped off for the forest. She?d hunt tonight.

Xera

Date: 2011-01-19 19:47 EST
Rebuilding the Gingers - 1

It had been a nearly week since she'd seen Albion and Quillyan and she no longer looked for them at the usual spots. Twice now when she'd passed one of them in the hall she'd simply continued on with none of her usual banter or joviality. Heading from Menolymus' class, where she'd just received praise for her continued focus, she was grinning, a flickering flame dancing through the halls.

Sharing the class with Xera had become difficult for Albion. Normally they sat near the back and gave quips and critiques about other student's attempts at Elemental magic, but for nearly a week she had been detached. When one of the novitiate's made a misstep, he'd flash her a grin only to find that she wasn't nearly as amused as usual...at least not in conjunction with him. He knew she had been through a lot and didn't want to push things, but Albion was the sort that couldn't stand turbulent waters for long, and as class was dismissed and they exited the abode of the Institute's foremost fire elemental, he slithered his way through the expelling crowd in search of her. "Xera." He called, catching sight of her flame-hued hair up ahead.

Sooty eyes whispered across his familiar features and then using the crowd to assist she avoided him adroitly. Offering a fleeting wave of her hand as she exited through a side door and made her way toward her dorm room. A book tucked on one slender hip, left bare by the midriff style corset she preferred.

"Damn it. Move. Hello, I'm walking here." He was having a hard time at pushing through the bodies considering his slender flame, though when failed by the physical he often fell to the arcane, which was always a preferable option. With a flash of magic he vanished from within the mob, appearing just a second before she rounded the corner. Lips parted in a wide smile as he brushed back his own claret mane. "Whoa, that was crazy."

She about ran into him and a rare frown touched upon her features. Taking a deep breath she offered a curt nod and a distant smile, a toss of her flame-licked hair sending it whiplashing down the slender back. Her pose became indolent, a tilt of her hip at an angle that accentuated the bare expanse of her naked hip bone, her uniform's skirt slung low like the jeans she cared to wear. Menolymus did not mind if she removed her uniform's top to the corset beneath, after all the less billowing cloth near open flame the better.

The smile began to fade with her distant smile and within the depth of dark emerald eyes there was suddenly an awkwardness. He cleared his throat, arms cradling the large book of elements against his chest. He had actually left his cloak in Menolymus' class, in such a hurry to exit and find her, though still wore his Apprentice Jacket - his most prized possession. "So, how about that Half-elf asking about cooking his food with elemental fire? I thought Master Menolymus was going to sear him in front of the whole class." He laughed, though it was forced. Obviously forced.

"Aye. It was a riot." Her fingers drummed upon her hipbone, a glance around obviously melodramatic, "Missin somethin?"

A thin brow careened upward as his lips tightened into a thin line. There was contemplation in his eyes as he sought an idiom that she could reference. "What put out your fire?" He cringed as he said, liking it much better while hearing it in only his mind.

She frowned deeper and offered a sigh, she didn't do angry well, in fact she sucked at it. A temper had yet to ever emerge from this fiery little elementalist and she just found being upset...upsetting. Things had an order and when people put them out of order she didn't know how to respond. While she petulantly wanted to respond with a 'like you care' she wasn't really good at that kind of response, so instead she shrugged, the movement sending the strap of the corset to slide off one shoulder, though it made no signs of moving, perhaps due to the impressive rack that held it in place.

Silence; it was good for studying but terrible for conversing. He reached out and took that strap between deft fingers, sliding it upward to replace it upon her shoulder. "Xera." He said her name as though that alone would break this strange tension between them. "You are far too easy to read for me not to know that something is wrong, and I'm starting to suspect that it is directed at me. I wish you would explain."

Xera

Date: 2011-01-19 19:49 EST
Rebuilding the Gingers - 2

"Well. Y'kinda suck at the whole friend thing Albion." She lifted a shoulder again and tried to shrug off the tight ball of tension that had suddenly settled in her stomach. "I'm really not good at this kinda thing. So, we're good." And she pushed past him, and because she was Xera, it was a push, gliding past him to make quick pace down the hall toward her wing.

He wasn't sure which struck him harder, the bump of her hard little body or the impact of her words. "That..." He gasped, not really knowing where to go with that. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts before suddenly realization took hold. "....is bullshit." He took a step toward her and with the help of magic crossed the growing distance with a single stride. Reaching out, he sought to take her by the shoulder and turn her, though knew of her innate strength and was prepared for failure.

She wasn't fighting it. She wasn't particularly angry. The turn was a pirouette of exasperation, her breath huffing out. "Albion, I'm learnin alright. I'm kinda a social disaster. I've messed things up with pretty much any of ye I call friend." Shrug. "Quinnon and I are good. And that's good enough for me."

He hadn't expected to turn her and nearly fell forward as she came about, slender frame partially bumping into her voluptuous stature. With crimson hair veiling his sharp features he took a step back and gathered composure, parting his tresses like a wave of water. "And that is bullshit as well. You are not a social disaster, in fact, you are fiery fun incarnate. You haven't messed things up with me, granted, that is only an assumption since I have no earthly idea what you are talking about."
He paused, and then softened his nearly patronizing tone. "Though I am more than willing...and eager...to listen." It was no secret that Albion valued his friends.

Her features were expressive, the glasses she wore in class still perched upon her nose as her dark eyes clouded with confusion. It was obvious she didn't know where to go with this, but it was equally obvious she wasn't about to rein back in now that he'd opened the floodgates, "Well where I come from ye don't stand friends up. Ye don't forget ye have friends just because ye hook up with someone and ye sure the hell don't act like they're not even there when yer all together. I get it. Ye'r flamin hot on Quillyan. Who wouldn't be, girl is smokin. But icyballs Albion, we used to go get a beer at the Island every Tuesday night. It was our thing. Now ye bring Quillyan and spend yer entire time makin out. I suppose I'm supposed to say, 'thanks for showin,' but flame that," she made a face here, "we were the redheads. The Gingers. Ye, me, Quill, and Damien and now things are all kinds of smoked up. And I hate it. And I ain't doin it no more. Y'all kinda left me to do that stupid duel with that blue furred freakyguy and then didn't even follow through. I thought it was 'let's all duel naked' and it turned into let's send Xera off to do somethin so we can be alone. Fine. yer Alone. Damien don't want me near his damn body anymore, and ye and Quill can't pull yer firecrackin faces off of each others." And now she needed a breath.

"Smoke Off." There was very little heat to the words, only a hint of agitation in the rise of heat around them.

He listened, and as the tirade heated up his face contorted as defensive responses filled his mind. He said nothing, giving her the time she needed to vent, though as she progressed through the onslaught of incendiary analogies, he began to understand why the hot head was a touch more torrid today. He kept his arms at his sides, hands open and relaxed, and as she finished up the shade of his green eyes lightened a bit, showing something of a sparkle. "You....are right." He reached up, the back of his hand wiping at the small beads of sweat brought up on the rise in temperature. "You're right. I deserted you, in a way. I hadn't gotten a lot of time with Quillyan and chose to use that time instead. That was supposed to be all of us having fun together, and instead I turned it into playing with Quills and hanging you out to dry." He shifted weight to his other foot. "I'm a bit new at this." It sounded funny to admit. "And I don't really have a clue as to what I'm doing....which is unlike me. I study way too much to ever be called ignorant. But that doesn't mean I should sacrifice our friendship or the things we do." He shifted weight again, though held her gaze. "You're right, Xera. And I'm sorry."

Xera made a face. "I didn't come and talk to ye about it cuz I didn't need a 'sorry' and I don't want one. Yer good. And I mean it. Do yer thing, Albi. It's all cool."

"No." He said sharply, fighting the pull at the corner of his mouth. "That's just not going to do. You see, I have this thing about my friends, and I'm very protective of them. To near insanity. I remember this time where a friend of mine was insulting two werewolves in a bar...it was crazy....But anyway, I've done you wrong and now wish to make it right." Thoughtful eyes ticked upward momentarily. "Tomorrow night are the duels, right?"

Xera

Date: 2011-01-19 19:51 EST
Rebuilding the Gingers - 3

A novitiate had paused as they passed by to get a closer look at what was going on and she turned her soot dark eyes on him and leaned toward him threateningly, gulping he stuttered an apology and she replied sharply, "Yer mouth is movin. Y'might want to look into that." He swallowed and shut his mouth and stared. She glared, "Somewhere else. And Quick." As he scurried off she returned her attention to Albion, "Like smokin hell. What now I get a pity hangout?"

"Absolutely not!" He folded his arms over his chest, a tilt of his head leveling his gaze upon her as streams of silken red hair spilled around him. "I don't do pity." Lips parted with disgust. "However, spending time with you are the Duels has always been one of my favorite things to do. We've done it since novitiate year and I don't intend to change that. We do it on Tuesday nights. I'm going to be there. I hope you will be there too." He didn't really pay any attention to the novitiate or Xera's verbal castration of him. "Any chance?"

Her features were scrunched up and her expression difficult to read. Only now realizing she was still wearing her glasses and removing them with an irritated flick, "I'm not the one that's changed around here." Still sharp, "Ye and Quill do what makes ye happy. But I'm the one that got in that stupid dueling ring and made an arse out of myself. Which," She thumped his chest, her strength undeniable, "Should've been a longstanding joke between us, but ye went and smoked it all up."

Shoulders folded forward as he was forced back a step, a wince flashing across startled features. "You didn't make anything out of yourself. I was cheering you the entire time." He rubbed his chest as he watched her with an accusatory look. "That hurt. And for the record, I think you're right. You got in the ring and I didn't, or Quilly for that matter. We need to make that up. We need to make it ours." He took a step toward her, his eyes flashing with a genuine sincerity. "After all, what sort of gingerbread house would it be with only one person inside of it?"

"It's my ginger house. And mine alone." Still defensive. A fold of her arms across her abdomen accentuating assets. "I'm the Ginger. Damien's the Grouch and ye and Quilly are the Face Suckers. Ye guys don't get to be in the Gingerhouse anymore." Though she was softening a little at his assertion that he had cheered her, "Y'r gonna duel? And yer gonna convince Quilly to duel?" Arching a brow at that, clearly a 'yea right' goin.

"I am. I'm going to be the first to duel, actually, and I'm going to do so where everyone can see me." He could see that fire in her eyes starting to calm. "And I bet I can even get Quilly to jump in and throw down." He laughed, trying hard to follow the current teenage vernacular. "And it's going to be awesome." There was a certain fear there. He had never been good at the duels and hated showing his weakness, but it was well worth it if it meant that Xera was going to be at ease. "I'll even let you pick my opponent, since you have so much more experience than me." He shot her a playful wink.

She was softening and it was apparent in the easy lean against the wall. A smile feathering her lips, "Oh I've got an opponent for y'both." And there was a ton of warning in that one line, "But I've got to run to my room and switch books, I'm bout to be late to Master Tracha's class." Pushing off the wall she didn't give him the customary hug, and instead offered a nod. "See y'both tomorrow night. Face Suckers."

"Nice try." He smirked, that same spell that he used to quickly close in on her before used once again as he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her into the slim lines of his body. "You can take away the winks and smiles, and even the ginger house, but I can't do without these."

She laughed, a smoky sound of relaxation, curling about him in a lazily inviting way. Her arms twined about his slender chest, impressive curves pressing taut to him as she willingly embraced him. Short, shorter than both Quilly and Mystri, she didn't appear as small as she was normally, perhaps it was her fiery temperament, but once brought this close it was apparent that the curvy little azer only barely hit five feet and wore no heels to compensate. The heat of her body was a slow burn, not uncomfortable but noticeably hot. His hands sliding across the naked skin of her bare back and eliciting a shiver.

He enjoyed the warmth that she offered, both physically and emotionally. He held her close, crushing the ample swells of plump breasts against his narrow physique with an intensity that allowed her to feel the sudden thrum of his heart. Her lush endowments were always a treat he secretly indulged in, though this hug was something different. He never wanted his friends to feel as though he had let them down or done them wrong, and knowing that she seemed to understand his intentions was enough to make his pale flesh tingle. Fingers possessing a musician's grace strummed upward along her spine until able to caress the nape of her neck. He held her there and tilted his cheek into the top of her head, squeezing her once, and then slowly drawing away. "You should go. Master Tracha is not one to forgive tardiness."

Innocent still she was unused to such intimacy and offered a startled whisper of a sound at his willingness to embrace her so completely. Their hugs had always been quick fiery fleet little things and this was something a bit different. Knowing that Albion was probably upset over their schism and worried about setting things right gave an explanation for his lingering touch. Remembering Esteban's reaction to her questions regarding Damien's upset with her she held still unwilling to give the wrong impression. As he drew away she offered him a hint of her usual smile and a nudge with her elbow, "And then ye'd really owe me big!" Dashing off with an explosive burst of speed.

Xera

Date: 2011-01-19 19:55 EST
Rebuilding the Gingers - 4

They were ragingly drunk, or at least Xera thought Cedes was. She really wasn't sure, the girl was acting so weird she'd managed to convince her to stop by the infirmary. Able to use that as their excuse for being in the halls, Xera and Albion continued on their way toward his room.

She was giggling at Albion's drunken stance when they arrived at the door to his and Quilly's dorm room. Lifting her hand to apply a rapid pattern of a knock she felt a flicker of chilled air and discomfort send a shiver down her spine. Xera turned to look for the source of her unease and thought she saw someone moving off down the hall, was that Jolie?

Puzzled she was just about to ask Albion if he'd seen anything when she realized he was snoring. While standing up. Weaving on his feet, his red hair swaying with each breath that sent him rocking back and forth.

Laughing she beat the door again this time hollering, "Quill hurry up before he falls over out here! Besides y'owe me an explanation! Don't think yer gettin out of gettin in that ring!"

Bang.Bang.Bang.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-19 21:41 EST
Infirmary

Mercedes was furious with Albion and Xera, for taking her to the Infirmary. "I am not sick," she kept on telling them. She slid a hand through her dark hair, looking at both of them with dark blue eyes. Standing up, she moved to the door.

"Apprentice Crane. You will stop right there, young lady." The voice was cold and dark, filled with unspoken malice. 'Cedes swallowed and turned around, slowly, lifting her eyes to meet the dark figure. A woman in uniform met her glaze with a stern composure.

"Mistress Evahlys?" The Bookworm spoke softly, a hint of fear in her voice. "There's been a mistake. I shouldn't be in here."

"Mercedes Crane," the way Evahlys spoke her name sent shivers down the girl's back. "I will present to you two choices. Either you sit down on one of those beds, or you lay down. If your classmates didn't think you needed help, they would not have brought you here."

Mercedes look to the door, closing her blue eyes. she moves toward the bed, and sat down. plotting on vengeance on Albion and Xera. she waited for instructions. she crossed her arms

Evahlys' voice echoed in the stillness of the room. "Young lady. The very first thing we will be addressing is your attitude. I do not allow sulking in my presence. You are here for a reason, and it is my duty to ascertain that reason in order to get you back to your studious lifestyle. Now, let's have a look at you, hmm?" Using neither stethoscope nor tongue depressor, the nurse pulled a stool over to the bedside. A faint green glow surrounded her hand, as her eyes narrowed.

Answering with a sigh, 'Cedes looked up at the older woman's face. "Yes, Mistress." But the green aura caught her attention, causing her brow to rise with curiosity. She asked softly, "What is that?"

"Shush, child. Don't interrupt." The nurse fell silent for a few moments, continuing her arcane inspection of the girl. "Hmmm. Insomnia. Hallucinations. Overworking and fatigue. How typical for a young student. Always believing in your immortality, without actually being so." Rocking back on the stool, Evahlys turned and rose, pulling an oval-shaped stone from a nearby drawer. The murky depths of the gem swirled a dusky purple. "Place this upon your nightstand before you lay down. The very first thing I recommend is a full night's rest."

"What is it?" Mercedes seemed full of questions... the instructions to sleep barely registered as she glanced down at the gem, reaching out to run a finger over the smooth surface.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, other than it will help you to sleep. Now, off with you. Unless you'd rather sleep here for that full night's rest." A gleam in her eyes spoke volumes about how ill-conceived a notion that would be.

Standing, 'Cedes looked up, a defiant set to her chin. "I would rather go and sleep in my own bed, thank you." Letting out a heavy sigh, she looked around, as something flickered on the side of her vision. Quickly, she spun around to catch the apparition.

"I see the hallucinations are constant. Well then. Off to bed with you, and report back here once you've awoken. No arguing, or I will simply have Sartha... retrieve you. Do I make myself clear, young miss?" Evahlys crossed her arms, regarding her charge with a stern authority.

"Yes, mistress." With another sigh, Mercedes stood up and moved toward the door, knowing she was at least free of the place. First things first, she would get her rest, and then... she swore she'd find some way to pay Albion back. Once she found him.


((i want to give out the credit to the player who help me who play the mistress of infirmary, Evahlys. Thanks to Esteban-mun. you are the best. with your editing and playing :) ))

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-19 22:26 EST
Bound by the moon

It was growing close to that time. the moon was waxing and she stared up, knowing full well Mystri was now subject to the pull she herself felt. Even with the charm she wore to prevent the involuntary change, she was awash with foreboding, and discomfort.

She was alone this night, a rarity since she'd begun her shadowing of Albion. she walked through the trees, and in the distance the gray wolf shadowed her as it had been as of late. She had warned it off once but it seemed still to be waiting for what she knew not.

Lune had taken to spending more time with her bondmate, feeling a special connection with both girls along with his deep gratitude for her saving his life. It was strange but it was though somehow he was able to connect with them both, and Saphira was certain it was the magic of Vesper that had enabled this to occur.

She'd wandered close to the faepact warlock's woods, almost wishing to hear the howling call of the denubae, and recalling those enticing pheromones. She didn't understand what it was it had done to her, she'd thought perhaps she was ill, but..it had been almost..pleasurable.

She shook her head, almost disappointed when the terrible call did not come.She didn't even know what it was she craved, or why. It was with some surprise when she ran into Kish. She startled out of her thoughts looking surprised. "Kish...What..what are you doing out here?" She didn't think he would be out at this hour, it was past curfew and Sartha would be on patrol looking for stragglers.

He looked her over, appreciating the curves that were somehow accentuated by that luxurious fur. "I thought I would enjoy a stroll under the moonlight. what about you? I thought the moon had a negative effect on you?" Secretly he wanted to see her shift, something about all that raw power was exciting. And that it lay within this unassuming-looking girl before him. She fidgeted a little. "It does, but I have a charm..it helps, though I am still a bit..uncomfortable." She looked up at the nearly full ghostly orb hanging in the sky above them.

"Though I daresay when this moon is full It will be moreso.." She took a breath and offered him a shaky smile. "Why?" Kish was instantly curious. there was a reason he was at the top of all his classes. His natural abilities were only a fraction of it, the boy was sharp and swift and missed very little if anything at all. She looked at him then looked away. "I agreed to allow Albion to witness a full change."

"You what?! Oh you're kidding, right? Seriously? What I wouldn't give to see that!" She looked at him, startled. "Why would you want to? Don't you understand what I am? When it happens because of the moon, without my charm, I'm a raving mindless monster..."
Kish stepped in and closed the little distance between them.

"It's not all the time, and besides, the rest of the time you're beautiful." He brought his hand up to her chin to urge her to look at him. She was flushed from his words. "I don't know about that...besides, I know you and Mystri.." She gestured vaguely. He couldn't help but laugh. "She started that, and it was because of you. I admit I liked it though. I like you too, Saphira." His eyes glinted in the half light. "I think your bond with Mystri is amazing, and so is what I have seen you do.."

He trailed off and leaned in closer, not thinking she would resist him. He was wrong though. Saphira pulled back in confusion. "What are you doing?" He blinked in surprise. "I..I'm sorry I thought maybe you..liked me too." "Of course I like you, but I don't understand what that has to do with why people are always doing that mouth thing." Suddenly Kish laughed.

"Do you mean to tell me, you have never been kissed? really? Saphira you're gorgeous! I can't imaging a guy not wanting to kiss you!" She found herself blushing though not precisely certain why.
"I...well, no. but it seems like a strange and unsanitary practice." Trying to defend herself with reason.

He looked at her. In this light she seemed like a dream. Some exotic, beautiful creature that could only have been dreamed up. He felt his pulse quicken as he looked her over. "Why don't you let me show you, then you can decide. I promise, if you don't like it, I'll stop." She hesitated, clearly torn. She wanted to know and between dreams, Mystri and Khoom's scent she'd been sent into a tailspin. "Promise?"

"I promise." She nodded, just barely, a brief motion, though she looked nervous. "Don't be nervous.." His words were a whispered breath against her cheek as he gently pulled her closer, his fingers delighting in the fur at her hips as he slid one hand up her back before moving it to cradle her cheek gently. He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against hers, testing to see what her reaction would be. when she didn't bite him or pull away he pressed his mouth more firmly against hers, gently encouraging her to respond to him.

She didn't understand why it was her body suddenly seemed to be on fire and freezing at the same time. This new excitement was foreign to her and his lips were soft and pleasant. At first she didn't know what to do, but as his gentle insistence, she gradually responded, forgetting to think and just feeling. She found she liked kissing Kish.

After a moment he pulled back, watching her. She was breathless, and her eyes had changed to lupine and the pupils were huge. She gazed at him in silent wonderment. "So that's what it's like.." She murmured softly. Kish smiled at her. "See, it's not what you thought. Why don't you let me walk you back to your room?" His offer snapped her out of her stupor. "Oh I.." Scrambling for a good reason why he could not. She had intended to return to Albion as the black wolf.

He pressed a little more. "You owe me for standing me up, anyway." Though it was plain he wasn't upset. She smiled sheepishly at him. "Alright...but..I am very tired so I don't think I'm up for a visit, really..the moon..it upsets me even with the charm.." He nodded lightly and offered his arm to her. "Fair enough, I'll take what I can get." She knew once he left she would just have to shift and hurry and hopefully avoid Sartha. They walked in relative silence and when they reached her shed he stopped with her. "I know you're rooming with Moir, why you stay here I can't understand.."

"I like the cold and here I can keep it that way without bothering her. Sometimes I go inside though." She was torn between wishing he would leave and wishing he would kiss her again. She smiled. "Well, goodnight..." She blushed a tiny bit. Kish smiled, her shyness was so alluring, and to think she contained so much raw power..."Goodnight, Saphira." He touched her hair, turned and left, smiling as he headed toward the main campus and his room.

She was bewildered, but shook it off and as he left her sight she donned the collar that changed her appearance, shifted painfully, and raced to find Albion.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-19 23:06 EST
Students stared, openly and unabashed. Novices, some apprentices, stood with backs pressed to the hallway walls, ceremoniously opening the floor to the advancing vampire and her ruby-tressed companion.

?Jolie, I...? Quillyan began, trotting alongside the steadfast bloodsucker, before abruptly changing her focus, ?...do they always do this?? An empty hand waved dismissively towards the cowering crowds.

?Yes,? she replied, drawing out the final consonant in serpentine delight, though her face maintained a brisk malevolence. ?Follow me, Quilly.?

?I just need to book, please -- we?re supposed to be partners, and I can?t complete Smout?n?s assignment without -?

The pair took familiar turn through the labyrinthine hallways.

?I?m not giving you the book.?

?That?s a problem.?

?No, you?re a problem,? hissed Jolie as she came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hallway.

Quillyan?s steps clumsily echoed the sudden halt with an unsteady sway, but the girl solidified her slim stance in front of the vampire.

?I?m a problem? Me?! You?re a problem!? countered the redheaded novitiate with grand originality, the excitement of the moment emphasizing immediate expression over thoughtful analysis, an emphatic finger pointed accusingly toward the cold classmate.

Jolie?s fingers closed over her shoulders, digging remorselessly into the statuesque curve of flesh and bone. With an effortlessly choreographed flick of her hands, she spun Quillyan about, toward the hallway wall -- no, toward her own dorm room door.

?Open it,? she growled.

***

Bang. Bang. Bang.

No.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Laughter, yelling.

Quillyan sat up on her bed, dizzily, numb. A affable mental fog stifled any sense of alarm, but this contrasted in an interesting, though not unpleasant, manner with the stimulated sensation of her flesh. The air was very cold, she vaguely noticed.

The back of her neck...hurt.

Fingers explored, and when drawn back, displayed the crimson smear of blood.

Bang. Bang. Bang. More yelling, and a thud.

It occurred to her that she should open the door, so she rose from the bed and complied, pausing only to grab a lightweight, fashionable scarf and wrap it loosely around her neck. The diaphanous dark fabric was still settling at her breast when she came face-to-face with the boisterous ginger pair, Xera and Albion.

Blue eyes, steely and flat, went wide. In a heartbeat, the comical picture jolted her brain from its lingering haze; bemused laughter parted darkly-rouged lips.

?What the...?? she exclaimed, her voice raw as if with recent cries, instantly ducking her shoulders beneath Albion?s arm opposite of Xera, helping to support the unsteady transmuter, ignoring the perplexing swim of her head with the sudden movement.

?The duels, oh my gosh, I must?ve dozed off. I?m so sorry Xera,? she babbled in that same torn voice as they guided Albion into the room and towards his bed, beholding the fiery femme with childish sincerity.

?What the f*ck time is it?? What the f*ck kinda tea did HE drink??

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-21 17:24 EST
((Moonlit madness))

Albion had only wanted to study her. The chance to observe a werewolf's change up close was irresistible. He of course intended to help her learn to control it, and in order to do this needed to study it up close. Preperations had been made, precautions taken.

Mystri had been there too, had protested when she'd seen the chains, Saphira wasn't a slave or a beast to be bound!

Saphira had reassured her, as had Albion it was needed to ensure there were no mishaps. Saphira had been bound, in what might have been considered a very compromising position. Albion had taken the charm from her after asking a final time if she was sure. She was.She thought.

Had they known what was in store perhaps the group would have left off then and there, but how could they?

It had gone smoothly enough at first, the horrible transformation taking her and leaving a raving beast Albion had marveled at. To the point of almost missing the fact Mystri was exhibiting a reflection of Saphira's feral new state. The madness that had taken her had attracted the last one anyone would have expected.

Vesper.

She'd seen the transformation and in her own mad delight decided it was time to breed her preshuss. She'd dashed to glut the Denubae with her own magic, to lessen the likelihood of it outright killing Saphira in the process and when she'd returned she'd been delighted to find Saphira was almost loose thanks to Mystri's own enraged efforts to free her, the bond having prompted her to give Saphira the freedom she demanded. Vesper had even helped in the final stages of setting her loose.

Albion had been forced to change himself as Mystri had wounded him and the two grappled, both in animal forms, giving the werewolf the chance to pursue the scent of the blood - the Faepact warlock's own blood she had spilled herself to tempt her to the Denubae's pit.

She'd taken the bait and had torn through the woods intent on killing and devouring Vesper, only to find herself in a well laid trap with the Denubae itself.

Mystri and Albion were left to their own devices as Saphira had faced off with the creature and the grappling that had ensued had gone from a life threatening struggle to an entirely different type of grappling indeed.

The Denubae had, in it's way won out and Saphira was left unconscious from being fed on so intensely during the ...'ordeal'. When all was said and done the Denubae had actually intended to..preserve her for future 'use' though that intention was foiled by Vesper herself who had forced the creature back from the unconscious werewolf so she could collect her and take her to her own cottage. Vesper had even managed to pick up the charm Saphira had always worn that prevented the change and slipped it back around the beast's neck causing her to revert to the more commonly seen wolf-maiden. She was tiny and frail now, compared to the hulking brute she'd been.

Vesper fully intended to keep her under her own watchful eye and took her as she wished, to the sound of the Denubae's echoing enraged protests that she dared take his object of carnal release from him.

Saphira, mercifully, would remember little to nothing when she eventually awoke.

((A summary of a liveplay scene, much thanks to Mystri, Albion and Vesper for a fantastic scene!!))

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-22 12:09 EST
Awakening

She awoke in a strange place...no..it wasn't strange..it just..wasn't hers

She was sore, but her own hands running over her body relayed to her she was unharmed. A benefit of her unnatural healing abilities, no doubt. Her head was pounding, and she moaned softly. Her memory was muzzy, she remembered Mystri and Albion. Albion had they..? No...she was confused. Though there had been some primal part of her that had considered him..No.

The memory was gone, replaced by another disjointed remembrance.

Chains..yes...she remembered the chains and then...She shuddered. Her head hurt so badly, and she closed her eyes. For some vague reason unconcerned as to where it was she found herself. Perhaps she should have been. Had she been in a less befuddled state she might have even recognized it. She drifted to sleep again.

Fighting. She was fighting something..something huge, stronger than she was. Engraged, she felt the fury flow through her as she was drained of strength along with her magic. .......The Denubae.... Why was she fighting the Denubae?

Saphira shifted restlessly in her sleep, mumbling, a soft snarl on her lips followed by a low moan.

The Denubae was feeding from her, draining her, and even the rage that fueled her strength waned as it defeated her. She was losing. Had lost..why wasn't she dead? The answer was a shocking violation..the Denubae was..NO! No....How dare this creature?!? She snarled and fought as the last of her strength waned, and her bestial instincts took over. Even as the world swam before her eyes.

Another soft moan was uttered in her sleep, as her body reacted to the dream..the memory of the Denubae. Her breathing became shallower, rapid but she did not wake. She merely turned, her legs clenched as she writhed in imagined feral ecstasy in her sleep.

She didn't want to resist anymore, this terrible creature had awakened in her pure instinct and it took her before she lost consciousness. Her body had given up the ultimate rebellion against her as the Denubae's howl of victory shook the pit. He'd claimed her in the most primal way..and through the haze of madness, the rage and hatred part of her liked it, craved it...then it all was swallowed up in blackness

Saphira gasped as her eyes flew open, lupine eyes, she had reverted, yes, but she was locked in the animalistic cycle. It never occurred to her to wonder how it was the charm was back around her neck. The only thing she could think of was that dream..but the ache between her legs told it hadn't been. She was torn...between the repulsion of what she realized she'd done and the urge to weep, and the terrible urge to slip out of this place and seek out the monster that had done it.

That second thought should have horrified her, should have disgusted her, but her common sense had flown and the desire to mate was in full swing. She wanted to go back She growled softly, and sat up, taking in more carefully her surroundings and realization dawned.. She was in Vesper's cottage!

What the hell was she doing here? But she was still exhausted, too tired to panic and she had been comfortable..She found her eyes closing again. Her last thought before she slept was the Denubae. She intended to seek it out again. She wanted to mate. Finally weariness overtook her, and she slept...

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-22 23:49 EST
Infirmary


Mercedes is a little late getting back to the ward. Sarta had to come get her. so she was dragging her feet. she doesn't think she is sick. she sighs. As she follows the minotaur. he growled for her to hurried up. "Mistress..." Sarta spoke. "here is Miss Crane."

A nod then, looking over the errant one. "I did warn you. What made you decide not to come this time, young lady?" Evahlys' voice was no warmer than last time. It sounded like she knew the answer and only wanted confirmation.

"I had to study for a test." Mercedes answers. she closed her eyes. she still didn't look like she sleep any. with the stone's help she has been sleeping. she moves to seat on the bed, her dark blue eyes watched the minotaur crossed his arms and watched the young woman.

The older woman joined him in the watching, one eyebrow quirked. "You did sleep last night?" It was somewhere between a question and statement. Normally they looked better, not the same. She followed the girl, one hand glowing green again. "That is, young lady. You laid down last night, correct. Weren't up all night?"

"I did sleep." The student sighs. "I went to bed at a decent time and woke up 8 hours later." she fidgets though. her dark blue eyes on the glowing hand. she heard a whispers and turned to watch the shadows.

Noting the fidget, and the twist. "You're still hallucinating. " Not a question. The glowing hand passed over her quickly, she was only confirming what she'd gotten the other night. Eyes narrowing. "When did those start.. And what are you hallucinating?"

"I don't know. I hear things and see things. faces and shapes." Mercedes looks to the minotaur and then to Evahlys. "I don't know when it started." she shrugs. she looks away, and notice something in the shadows.

A look at the minotaur, and then following Cede's gaze. "The not sleeping?" The head nurse crouched, looking at the girl's eyes as she looked at her demons. "Young lady, you must know when some of this started."

"I always can't sleep. normally I sleep a couple of hours each night. I always roam the halls. I read the Library twice." her dark blue eyes are dark then normal that could be from the lack of light. she was still ice cold to the touch.

Nurse nodded. "Well, I'd call that a couple months at least.... And the low body temperature?" She couldn?t' see a reason for it, but, that didn't mean anything

"I don?t know anything about my body temperature." Mercedes sighs. "I feel normal. regardless of my temperature." she fridges looking over to the minotaur.

"do you think I need to take away her hall past to the Library, Mistress?" Sarta spoke. Mercedes opened her mouth but didn't speak.

Looking to Sarta, The head nurse shook her head. "No. Just, find a way to track her locations within the library. If she has no outlet, she'll raise hell." Dropping her gaze to Mercedes. "That means, if you've been reading things that you shouldn't have been touching, Apprentice, you'd best 'fess up now." Stern-ness back in her tone.

"I hadn't read anything I am not suppose too." Mercedes looks to both. "well....I tried to. the words didn't showed up on the pages." she shrugs. "But I haven't done anything that I am suppose to." it was her own spell she cast on the love note. she looks to Sarta and to the mistress.

Sarta spoke. "Good idea."

"What were you doing when you first started noticing the hallucinations, anything different?" Up to Sarta again. "You might want to mark the books, if you can, so that they'll tell you if she's been trying to read them." Implied: She's meaning the dangerous ones.

"No...I kept on my regular schedule. I have like six classes a day." The bookworm sighs, she wasn't going to tell anything about the love note. she has been stretching her body out studding and getting ready for classes.

She nodded. "Stress.." A wave to Sarta, as if to say 'go to it..' in a nice way. Watching to see if he took her meaning


((thanks for help Moir-mun. You played the Mistress of the hospital Ward. :) Thanks for all your help with this. :) ))

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-01-22 23:50 EST
Infirmary

continued



Sarta nodded. "I think she needs to cut her classes down and choose a couple things she want to focus on. You might want to keep her to observe her. what are you going to do about her cold temperature?" He stand and watched the young student.

Evahlys nodded to that as well. "I 'm thinking both of those. Pick two classes you can not do without. You are only going to be allowed out of here to go to them." Sternly, touching her cheek again, and then her wrist. A moment later, the pulse point of her neck. The touches brief. "Are you normally so cold? What is your race?"

"Human." Mercedes sighs. she didn't like to change her schedule. "Two?" she asked. "Can you at least let me have three of them." her pulse is a little fast, she don't like being in the ward. it smells to her. she moves away from her hand.

An eyebrow arched. "What is your focus?" A frown, "You are far too cold for the normal human body temperature "

"I like spells, and I like to make me own.." she frowns. "I can do anything with spells." she ran a hand through her dark hair.

Sarta spokes. "as soon as we are done. I am going to the headmistress telling the Apprentice Crane is dropping a few classes."

The nurse nodded. "That didn't answer my question, I might have asked it wrong. What is your school of focus?"

"I have universal. I am in all of the classes." Mercedes sighs. she looks to sarta. she heard something dropped behind her. she was spook easily and spins around, quickly. trying to see what caused the noise.

A breath exhaled through her noise. Patience was a virtue. She had it. "Pick two. We need to get those under control before you continue under any more stress." Looking where Mercedes was. "Nothing's there.. This is why I'm limiting you, you can't be completely safe. Pick two."

"Spell craft, Divination, Conjuration." Mercedes spooked softly. she sighs frustrated. she don't see why see why she has to change her classes.

An eyebrow perked. "Divination. Do you have a particular talent towards it?" Leaning forward.

"yes." Mercedes looks to her. "Like I said I have a talent with with any type of spells." she sighs.. "can I get a glass of water?"

The head nurse nodded, standing and backing off a step. "Been practicing it particularly hard lately?"

"I am trying to get a spell to change my shape of an animal. but I hadn't run the spell yet. so no. I hadn't been practicing anything." Mercedes lied. but she is a really good liar. she moves to find some water to drink,

Eyebrows still raised. "Really? It's unusual for students to get a spell, and not immediately run it." Not accusing, simply stating

"just trying to get it right." Mercedes sighs. "its dangerous for me. I never had done the spell like that. I change other things before. nonliving into animals. like rocks and such."

She nodded slightly. "But, that's not quite what I meant. Been trying to scry, or anything.. *Anything* of that nature, to see the future or elsewhere.."

"No." Mercedes shook her head. she found a bottle water, and drink. she is a little thirsty. she really don't want to be here and with these questions.

A slow nod, pausing in thought. Trying to work out the next course of action. "I would suggest dropping the Divination." Soft.

"No. I like Divination. I am not dropping it. I dropped everything both those three." she sighs, "Please." she moves toward the bed,

She frowned slightly. "No crying or far seeing spells... Those can directly induce hallucinations, even in the strong willed."

Mercedes nods. "Do I still have to stay here?" she took another sip of her water. "can I please go to my dorm room?"

A dark look. "No.. You are staying right here.. Don't even go to your room.." She crossed, picking up a light blue stone. A light toss. The stone's magic would try to eliminate the cause of the hallucinations, and raise her body temp...Gently, safely. She might feel a little drunk, but it wouldn?t' hurt her. "Catch." The stone lobbed easily Mercedes' direction, an easy catch.

"I got my clothes and my books in there." Mercedes protested. "even the stone you gave me" She added. ?why can I just be in my room." She caught the stone, her dark blue eyes looks to the stone.

Sarta spoke up, Mercedes seem to fight them every step of way. "Mercedes Crane. do not fight us on this."

Look turned into a glare. "Because I said not to... I don't know precisely what is going on with you, and I want you where I know all the factors of the environment, so that I don't need to try and rule that out. Because I assure you, you wouldn't like the way I do." Her tone got sharp and cold. "The magic that ensures there is nothing in the room that could have caused such as you're exhibiting, also has a nasty tendency to destroy everything but the bare room."

she nods "Yes, Mistress." Mercedes lowers her chin. she bite down on her bottom lip. what magic she had use in her room, there's no note. the note has destroyed itself.

She noted that look, and got an analyzing look. "Perhaps we need to find out what magic?s you've cast in your room.." She moved back to her bed side, lightly touching her forehead. She was checking to see if the stone was warming her, it should have started that first.

the stone has warmed her a little, it's fighting the curse. Mercedes felt a little dizzy. "I feel dizzy, Mistress." she took another sip her drink. she hadn't eat this morning.

The nurse reached out to steady her shoulder. "You're alright. Have you eaten? That could do it.."

Mercedes shook her head no. and moves to lay down on her cot. she closed her dark blues. "I hadn't." she replied. ?too busy studding."

The nurse shook her head, and handed her a pack of crackers, them appearing seemingly from nowhere.
The student opens the pack of crackers and eat.

Sarta spoke. "Is that all, Mistress. Do you think she needs to rest now?"

Turning around, she'd almost forgotten the imposing presence. "Yes. I can handle her, go do what you have need to do.." A smile and wave.

((thanks for help Moir-mun. You played the Mistress of the hospital Ward. :) Thanks for all your help with this. :) ))

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-01-23 14:39 EST
Albion groaned as he rolled over in the dirt, eyes peeling open in the dissolution of slumber to regard the world through a fuzzy haze. The dirt was moist due to the snow, and as his fingers raked across in search of leverage to sit up he felt the mud slide between them. Color was sharper and motion filled his periphery with a clarity that most saw in their cone of visual focus. He was still the burnt-fur fox, or at least a hybrid of it and his natural form.

He pulled himself up and folded his arms upon his knees, resting his head in the hole naturally formed. His brain hurt, pounding in the aftermath of the violence that occurred just hours before. Saphira had broken free, and Mystri...it seemed the bond between the two expanded to even the most primal levels.

His head seemed to weigh an impossible amount, but he lifted it anyway to stare at the pair of thick tree trunks that were rendered and shattered.
The chains were still just a few feet away, slowly, weakly, writhing upon the ground in search of limbs to clamp, but their prisoner, Saphira, was long gone.

The transformation had been amazing. She truly was a creature of primordial might. The chains had done their job and restrained her, giving him enough time to make the proper examination in search of a theory as to her control. He remembered her necklace thrumming in his hand, beating as though it were a heart, eager to return to her neck. He realized that it wasn't the item, but the magic the item contained that desired her control, and that if he could take the trinket, deconstruct it and come up with the same formula used to forge it, he could then use that magic, teach that magic to Saphira, and give her an avenue as to how to control her inner-demon without the use of the locket.

Fingers bloomed slowly as his wide, saucer eyes fell to his palm, which was empty.

He'd lost the necklace.

And then there was Mystri...

He had theorized that, due to their bond, when Saphira surrendered control there would be residual affects to Mystriana, though he hadn't expected them to be so potent. With Saphira's loss of will, so too did Mystri, though he could tell it was in a different loss. From the start Mystri had been wary of the chains used to bind her friend, and even though Albion had assured her a dozen times that they were there to serve Saphira and not entrap her, he could tell that Mystri wasn't at ease with it. When control waivered and transformation took place, it took hold of Mystri in another way, creating a defender of her pack mate, who, in her eyes, needed to be released.

She attacked him. Mystri attacked Albion, though he could tell by the way that she moved that her aggression stemmed from an anxiety brought on by concern. To counter the speed and strength of Mystri's feral form Albion transmuted, assuming his own bestial semblance, though the sudden explosion of the tree trunks that held Saphira's chains drew his focus before he could launch a counter attack.

She was free. Saphira had managed to somehow break free of the trees, shatter their trunks, and with nothing to anchor the chains they fell harmlessly away. This colossal wolf snarled and shot off with a quickness he wasn't sure he could match, and suddenly he had to get her back, had to get her the necklace. Albion pursued, determined to catch her and regain control. He should have guessed that Mystri's protectiveness would remain.

She caught him.

Right when he was in range to make a desperate leap to latch his fang-filled maw around Saphira's ankle, she pounced upon him and sent them both into a chaotic roll.

That was when he lost the necklace, somewhere in the forest.

He had no time to look for it as Mystri was quickly upon him, fangs and claws seeking out flesh covered in ocherous fur. The thing with the transmutation was that it was beyond physical, and while certain aspects of his human consciousness were still firmly in place, instinct, impulse, and intuition had all shifted to a primal response. He lashed out in return, scoring feline flesh with his own deadly claws. He knew he had to end it quickly, though. Mystri was a shifter, and while Albion had changed into his fox form hundreds of times, it wasn't nearly as natural a change as it was for his opponent.

They fought and snapped and clawed and luckily he was able to use a slip by Mystri due to the snow to his advantage. He took her around her the arms and grappled her to the ground. He latched vicious jaws around her neck and gave the instinctive growl of warning.

She struggled, though once his sharp teeth intended her nape with the threat of breaking flesh and tearing out her spine, she submitted.

She surrendered.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-01-23 16:39 EST
A hush rippled progressively across the busy dining hall. The first groups of students to fall silent, many mid-sentence, were responding to the whispering spell of the new Gossip Mysteries. Other clusters adopted the quiet out of simple curiosity, ears straining, alert, a handful of seconds between the silence and the first cryptic words. Thus, the massive room was soon completely, unnaturally, still and mute.

Quillyan?s heart quickened, the smile that resided on her lips gradually dissolving into a concentrated line. She tentatively enjoyed the Mysteries: she delighted in gossip about others, but was both flattered and concerned by the details about her own life. Shining sapphire eyes briskly assessed those gathered at her table: a rambunctious, competitive crew of novices and apprentices.

At a nearby table, a pair exchanged meaningful glances at the mention of ?Featherweight,? one discreetly pointing at her while the other nodded a wide-eyed comprehension. For a moment, it seemed that she sat in the very center of the room, beset by a thousand curious eyes.

She forced a smile, a playful and self-assured roll of her eyes, as if carelessly shrugging off the Gossip?s brutal insinuations. Friends at her table smirked gently, as they were wont to do, lifting brows in skeptical judgement. Embarrassment squeezed her stomach, but she forced her breath to come slowly, praying that the humiliation wasn?t burning in her pale cheeks.

When the spell passed, it took several seconds for the hall to resume its liveliness. Murmurs first, then laughter, then movement, creeping across the room on the tail of the winds.

The apprentice at Quilly?s left side hesitated to look at her; in her pleasant face, the novice noted a subtle and heartbreaking pity. It was a horrifying moment. Anything - teasing, scorn, or cruelty - was better than pity. Pity was honest, and it cared, and it confirmed some terrible fears.

Finally, the girl spoke to her. ?So, you went to Vesper?s forest? Alone??

The entire table?s attention was focused on them.

?Uh, hasn?t everyone been to Vesper?s forest?? Quillyan replied, and with great effort, she smirked. ?C?mon guys, you have to know those Mysteries are absurd. It?s just gossip. And besides, we don?t even know where it comes from. Are you really going to trust,? a hand flipped towards the empty air over their heads, ?that??

And she wished that she could believe her own words.

(a response to IAP Mysteries)

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-01-23 20:26 EST
The one thing Angelica was not was submissive. The young half-breed was co-heir presumptive to the throne of Pheoncia should anything happen to her mother. It was a position she shared with her twin and yet by a quirk of birth order, she was the first in line. Neither twin wanted the honor and yet they both trained at their mother?s behest.

Still, when she was alone at night, her skin crawled as if alive. Gentle touches and such brought little relief. She knew what she was craving and it seemed more intense ever since the encounter with the incubus. It subsided during her time with Zabdiel, but now it was driving her to distraction.

The flames were being fanned by the touch, the nearness of one that she had long desired. She did not want to be another notch in the bedpost though. She could not forget the lake, or the way he treated her in the days that followed. She chose friendship, than to be used for a toy. She had her pride after all.

Her dreams were vivid. A mingling of tanned and dark flesh. Soft sounds, pleasure, passion. She often dream of the different ways they could be intimate, as if testing each phase of the Kama Sutra. The flame seemed to grow brighter between them. Never one of dominance or Submission. The scene was always equals. Equal strength, equal sharing?

After all a princess needs strength not submission...

Sadie

Date: 2011-01-24 18:24 EST
It was hard to miss the black SUV as it pulled in before the entrance of the dorms. What happened next made it impossible to miss it.

?I know what I?m doin? ma, yeash!? If those words came before or after the car door opened was a mystery. As sudden as the door opened, a stuffed animal suddenly bulged around the edges of the opening. It was bright pink. ?Heave!? billowed behind it, as the animal puffed forwards, still straining to release itself from its confines. ?Heave!? one more time for good measure, then it popped free and took the shape of a giant stuffed rabbit. It was twice the size of its owner.

Sadie was blue. Blue is the only word for her; from her head to toe, hair, skin, eyes, lips, even finger nails unless painted, blue. Upon her frame, more or less, were silk clothes of copper and white hue, fit for someone of nobility in her world. With one arm she gripped the over sized stuffed rabbit and with the other she slung a bag over her shoulder then clasped a suit case.

?No ma! I dun need no stinkin? help!? Although loud, the young woman was well formed, perfectly shaped for her gender and age. ?Yeah, duh! Course I?m gonna write!? Upon the bag on her back a few bobbles and charms stuck to zippers and the fabric, popping out of the back, clearly too big for the bag, was another stuffed animal. This time it was a teddy bear, rainbow colored in hue. ?Bai bai ma! Promise I?ll try not to poison the instructor on the first day. No ma! It was a joke! Just don?t worry about me ok?? WHAM! She kicked the door shut with her foot. ?Can?t even do stuff on my own without her cryin?. Ash n? Ben dun have this much trouble.?

With nose scrunched, mouth open, and lips parted, she paused to read the nearest sign. ?Uh, okay, okay, okay?. Asplenia! Onwards!? One leg extended out before her, froze, then.. she was off! And whistling.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-24 23:57 EST
There was the sound of wretching in the bathroom that bordered the young demon's private quarters. He had nothing to drink, but he was sick to his stomach all the same.

Some of the things he learned tonight brought the bastard to the fore. How could one person hate so much that they would be a party to such an atrocity? Correction, how could a human hate so much?

He staggered to his feet and moved over to the vanity. He quickly rinsed out his mouth to get the foul taste out of it.

You don't have it in you, Damien...

The words taunted him over and over... A shot to the gut from someone he once cared for. It didn't help him that he struck back just as hurtful...

"You have no value to me."

"(vq) What have I done?" The soft words echoed in that cold room, "(vq) If only I knew, I could have saved her."

He bowed his head, and now tears fell. In private... There was no place to turn for comfort. All he had was his thoughts and recriminations.

All the venom ...

"WHY?" And the fist went into the glass of the mirror. Pain shot through his hand as it was cut by the shards. Blood seeped into the sink and he was unmoving....

He longed for warm arms, a soft form close to his own... Holding him, making the pain go away. Yet, it was not meant to be for him. First Xera, now Vliss... Each time he wanted to reach out, he was thwarted. How many times did he want to break Brais' neck, only to stop because of her. He did not want to lose what little he did have.

He blocked the link to his twin. He could feel the darkness rising in her. He could feel her wanting to embrace it. When did things change?

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-25 10:41 EST
Shattered

It had started with Jolie, and she had spread her venomous words and lies thick as honey. Quillyan had fallen for it and agreed to something terrible. Though true she'd changed her mind and decided she could not actively help the vampire seek revenge on Saphira, she certainly had not warned the wolf-maiden of the plan to breed her to the Denubae.

She'd learned it from Vesper herself and kept quiet. Not quiet enough.
After the brutality, and madness had settled in as the only defense the poor girl had just not to collapse with horror, Quilly, sweet Quilly slipped up.

She'd looked at Saphira and upon hearing Vesper's own pet name for the Denubae fall from her lips in reference to her own sweet mate in a maddened giggle, Quilly had known instantly what happened. There had not been a shred of sympathy in her as shed spoken the words that would set her guilt in stone. "So the plan worked..."
A brief moment of lucidity as that sank in and Saphira knew Quilly knew the entire time what had been intended.

Moir and Damien had tried to talk sense into her, tried to convince her not to return to the monster as now instinct and madness dictate she should and she seen Moir as compitition to the Denubae, thought Moir wanted to mate with it and had screamed at her and threatened her. She had then had cruelly taunted Damien that he wasn't man enough to have taken her, called him jealous.

"You don't have it in you"

Pure venom, her rage brimming he had not saved her, nobody had. Laughter had bubbled as the madness resettled and she'd left him at the inn so she could hunt and replenish herself, recover her strength for another encounter with the magic eater. Damien had followed her and the demon had been riled.

"Don't have it in me, little girl?"

Jealous had been her answer. Jealous the Denubae had claimed her and he had not. His words then hurt her on a deeper level than she knew, though the madness did not allow her to register them yet.

"You are tarnished goods. You have no value to me."

She'd turned her back to him then, and began to glut herself upon the stang whose throat she'd brutally ripped out moments before Damien had knocked her from it, his pride and heart hurt, his anger roused. He had left her to it.

Feeling strong she had left, intending find it to offer herself up.....if she could

(Information gathered from Quilly's posts and thanks to Damien and Moir for the scene this was adapted from)

Revenant

Date: 2011-01-25 18:53 EST
Mottled orange looked odd on white sheets, yet, Moir was still staring at it. Gold eyes flicked in her direction, breaking off their contemplation of the ceiling. The positions switched this time, Sam on the bed, Moir on the desk. Hands folded in her lap, she stared out the window.

The silence stretched until the cat broke it. "So, when do I get to come with you to the Compound? Hmm? After all, I still need to make your boy fall in love with me, just like you are." A broad grin spread across her features as she sat up, looking to watch Moir's reaction. "Nor have you given me a good explanation as to why I can't make Mistmark stop staring at you.. It wouldn't be so hard, just a couple frightening illusions, maybe the basic 'Scare' spell woven high and tight so that he can't get at the matrix to tell who cast it.." She shrugged. "Easy."

A sharp look gained in return, and the temperature cooled in a manner that had nothing to do with the ventilation. The diplomat's eyes actually looked hard, almost flat. Head shaken sharply. "It's not love I feel for you, what it is, I'm not sure, but love is not the right word for it." Sharper than she intended, her tone colder than normal.

"I'm not sure when I'll take you, possibly in the next week or so." A pause to differentiate topics, and she continued. "You will get me in trouble of the highest kind if you attack Master Mistmark. He has done nothing to me besides look. That is not a crime by any law system's standards." A glare came with that statement.

Sam stared back, deigning to sit up; looking the Egyptian in the eyes, a posture she only took to annoy her, because the next thing she said was going to be insolent, they both knew it. "And he's disturbing you. You and I both know that if he's looking at you, he's doing much worse to someone, and he needs some retribution. You can't see that because you're a spineless twit with no honor. For the love of it all, you have the power to get him removed, or at least make him so scared of the female body he won't touch even his wife... But, instead, you're sitting back, letting someone else do it. So much for that Sidhre honor, huh?"

Before she was even halfway done with her tirade, Moir was on her feet, fists clenched. She looked about ready to hit her, hard. Teeth almost audibly grinding, she spun on her heel, and out the door. It slammed behind her.

The noise was only slightly satisfying, angry steps took her past the main parts of the school, seeking out silence.

Which led her to be in the Headmistress' wing when she had a new student needing showing around, which was nice, the fellow non-human was a good, calming influence... Until she'd spaced.

When she came out of it, she was alone. A split decision led her to the Inn, where she ran into Saphira and Damien. It didn't take her long to realize something was terribly wrong with the situation, and that something had driven Saph nuts. Several ideas tried, and a gate opened twice to the school's infirmary, despite it being after curfew and the fact she'd never tried such a spell in practice. Words were sharp, flying between the Diplomat and Damien. Illusions that were too strong, and not right cast; Saph broke right through them. The gate was stabilized when Sam got to the infirmary, helping anchor the other end, despite Evanhyls' slightly angry queries.

As Saph had run, she found herself snatched to a place far and removed from where she'd been. It had beings that seemed to only want to fight. She barely remembered being dropped back on her bed, unharmed, but drained of magic enough to put her into a deep, hard sleep.

The Cat stood guard, curled up beside her, lightly playing with her hair as she slept the sleep of healing. Hell would be paid on the morrow, but not that night.

((Thanks for the fun last night, Nat, Sadie, Damien, Saphira. ^.^ Partly adapted from live play.))

Xera

Date: 2011-01-25 21:19 EST
Havin Fun With It

She'd finally figured it out.

And it was fun.

She rolled through the halls with that flaming undulation of her hips, dark sooty eyes glittering with amusement as she caught the eyes of the men following her.

And it was fun.

Standing outside Mistmark's classroom she leaned a hip against the wall and continued her conversation with Zhairan. A quiet boy he'd been thrilled when she'd approached him and now it was fun to watch him watch her as she tried her hand a flirting. Lifting her flameslicked hair (which had grown a richer, darker, more burnt color with the shift of her personality), she stretched and was awarded by not only Zhairan's reaction but the satisfying clunk of a novice bouncing off the doorjamb.

She laughed. Smoky rich, it poured like hot sin into the foyer and drew even more attention.

Oh she should definitely thank Damien for making her aware that this was even a problem, and Esteban for his brotherly attempts at explanation, and even Albion for his clinical approach. But most importantly she owed Blizzard of all people for his blunt down-to-earth discussion that had finally opened up her eyes.

She got it finally.

And she damn well enjoyed it.

"Hey Xera, you got that textbook I asked about?" Akemi's silky voice whispered close to her ear startling her out of her thoughts and earning a black look from Zhairan as he had thought her attention solely devoted to him.

"Oh, yea, but I didn't bring it. It's in my--"

"I'll walk with you after class to get it. Yea?"

She smiled as Akemi maneuvered her through the door and the start of class, missing the thundercloud that had become Zhairan.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-26 10:18 EST
A Shapeshifter's Destruction

Her skin crawled as if a hundred ants walked along just beneath it. She was on fire and could find no surcease. Desperately she sought to close off the bond between she and Saphira, finally able to find a peaceful place alone inside her mind where someone else's lusts and desires weren't driving her mad.

Albion, the Denubae, and Saphira were on a constant cycle in her mind and she couldn't escape it. Even with the bond as numbed as she could get it, it didn't stop her mind from thinking about it. Her emotions were no less volatile than her bondmates and she could find no way to escape them.

She'd let Albion think she was fine. She'd talked a good game. Remained politely distant and sure of herself. She'd even walked him back to the school as if she'd intended to head to classes. And as soon as he was out of sight, she'd fled.

She flew, she crawled, she sprinted, she raced, and she prowled. Her forms were so fluid now she couldn't hold them together for any length of time, blurring from one shape to another in minutes, seconds, hours, and blinks of her eye.

This is how a shapeshifter dies.

Her mother had poured through the forms, gliding into one after the next in a rapid haze of insanity until she'd finally had enough control to form her plea, "Daughter. Kill me."

Mystri convulsed hard from one form to the next, losing the rhythm of her pace and stumbling into a hard fall against the trunk of a tree. She'd thought to run to Twilight Isle, for it was there in the lands of her ancestors that she felt the most comforted. But instead she found herself beneath the scarred tree that had been the site of her destruction.

The chains had been her first warning that this was going to break her. Her people were slaves. Brought to the Twilight Islands by mages they had been created as the perfect servants. It was only in her mother's generation that they had found freedom, uprising against their masters and throwing away the copper collars that had bound them.

To see Saphira chained had threatened to unhinge her, but more than that the pull of the moon had unbalanced her. She was not a lycan. She was not cursed or afflicted. And she had never experienced such lack of control.

For without control a shapeshifter ...Her mother's blood spilled through her fingers...

She keened. Unaware that she'd already been crying. The sound was one of an agonized animal as her throat shifted through the different vocal chords at her call.

Wrapping her arms about herself she rocked in a fetal position until sleep finally claimed her.

****************

She awoke as Saphira did. Her desires a liquid surge of heat that sent the hybrid cat into a purring stretch of sinfully wanton abandon. She arched, rolled, even found herself on her belly, tail lifted high in anticipation. Memories of last night's possession had her emitting welcoming sounds of surrender before the flash of claret hair reminded her of all that had gone wrong.

A hard shudder returned her to herself, a rabid curse escaping her lips, "****!"

She jerked upward and fought the vicious surge of emotion. Slamming herself against the tree trunk she used the pain to hold her form in check. Hard shudders rocked her, causing liquid rolls beneath her skin.

How could she want the Denubae?

Saphira's desires were killing her. She bent over as feathers sprouted down her back and lifted her head in wolf's howl. Crumpling into the coiled form of a snake.

Rage simmered and finally boiled over and with its harsh core at her center she was able to push up on two legs, her reptilian eyes glaring hatefully at her surroundings.

Sniffing the air she found the scent that suddenly seemed integral to her sanity. And prowling forward on a slinking glide of a predator she followed the path her bondmate had previously made, the blood of Vesper easily marking the trail.

Its howl reverberated in a threatening welcome for it sensed her magic well before she peered over the lip of the pit. Sighting her it quivered in anticipation its scorpion tail rocking in excitement.

Her lips peeled back from her teeth in a feral snarl. The rapid shift of her body bursting into feathers, buffing into scales, and suddenly spilling in fur of differing textures. So quickly were the transformations coming now she appeared to be shimmering in a liquid fashion as if she were made of water.

The magic called to the beast and it howled in glee.

The beast called to the magic and she howled in fury.



HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-26 11:16 EST
Shards

Mystri...the shapeshifter's face danced before animalistic eyes in a shimmering mockery of lucidity. It called, beckoned to her and she tried to follow. The faster she ran the further away the shapeshifter seemed to be. "Mystri! Please! Come back!" The scream ripped from her, desperately, she needed her bondmate, needed the sanity she brought. Why could she not follow?

The half beast form of Saphira shivered and shuddered in sleep before a violent awakening. Head was thrown back and she howled her rage, her fury, her agony to the empty indifferent sky. She had been so drowned in her own self she had not been able to find the Denubae, something that should have come easily.

Her flesh rippled painfully as her body shuddered shifting through her own forms in a demented reflection of Mystri's lack of control. She collapsed to the ground writhing in agony. Lycan, lupine, human and then the more painful forms followed. A wolf's head on a body that might have been human, legs shifted, shifted back, her organs roiled, her mind reeled.

This is how a shapeshifter dies

The thought echoed in her mind, though it had not been her own. She whimpered on excruciating pain as her bones relentlessly broke, muscles ripped, and flesh tore and the forms became less and less fully formed. Somehow she dragged herself, sometimes half formed, a twisted monstrosity, other times a grotesque creature that could not even be named. On school grounds, in the open courtyard she collapsed, able to go no further.

Nausea wracked her and she shuddered violently before vomiting where she lay, a wretched mangled creature. Soft laughter drifted to lupine ears,
Jolie's laughter "Well...." The vampire purred to her. "It would seem I have my revenge gift wrapped for me.." Jolie knelt by the still suffering Saphira and lowered that wicked fanged mouth to her ear.

"You're going to die, Saphira, and nobody will save you. You are a filthy, stinking cur. And for taking my precious, beloved wolf from me I'll take the life of a wolf in return. Any suggestions? No?" Jolie laughed again. "Let me tell you a secret before I kill you, bitch. Do you know why Quillyan never warned you? Ha haha..I thought not. Poor wretch, you were too stupid. And all I had to do was bat my pretty lashes and cry."

Jolie was enjoying this immensely. She could see the shudder of rage below the surface but believed the bitch dog to be too far gone to be a threat, and she taunted her further. "I told Quilly, Dear sweet Quilly, you were a raving beast and had done it out of a primal need to dominate. and that stupid slut ate it up."

Jolie withdrew her ceremonial dagger and lifted it where it gleamed in the moonlight in silent victory. She plunged it down expecting the sweet symphony of flesh being rent, blood spurting and bone being scraped by metal. She received a nasty shock as her wrist was caught by a clawed furred hand. There was the softest growl as Saphira forced her twisted body up.

She had not understood most of the taunting, far gone in her madness, but the way she spoke now the guttural, inhuman sounds that poured from her were not her own "You....will.....suffer...." There was the resounding echo of bone breaking as Jolie's arm was violently bent to an unnatural angle and the vampire howled in enraged pain, falling back with wide eyes.

Saphira moved with jerky, unnatural movements. those eyes lightless as foam and blood flecked lips moved. "Enough...too much....you..will...not be...tolorated..." Jolie scrambled back. Her arm would heal but this mangled creature before her, dragging itself in disjointed motion unnerved her. and that it was obviously intent on killing her made her recoil. "What..What is this??!" She hissed.

It certainly did not seem like the weak half dead creature she'd tried to murder a moment ago. That warped voice came again. "You..have...transgressed.." Another jerking motion brought her closer and a terrible black flame erupted burning without consuming her. She was beyond being reached, and the black flames lashed out at Jolie and swathed her.

As they had not consumed their mistress they also did not consume Jolie, but the vampire dropped screaming and writhing in agony as she felt the pain of being burned to death. The memory Saphira had held in her that had so terrified her of flame before was powering this assault. She was forcing Jolie to relive her own memory, the flames, black and flickering were a shadow manifestation of the memory, but the pain was real.

The vampire screamed and wept, crying and jerking as she writhed on the ground. When the assault ended she was still screaming as she looked down at herself, expectiong her flesh to have been burned away but all that was evident was the broken arm, and that would mend. She did not give Saphira another chance to attack, rather she fled in fear for her life and her own sanity. Saphira's eyes returned to the wolf's and she collapsed back to the ground again.

She managed a weak howl, a cry, a plea before darkness washed over her again and her world, went black.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-26 15:53 EST
A Shapeshifter's Destruction (Act 2)

She huddled in the corner of the pit.

A broken girl, no magic left to aid in her shifting.

The deluge of rain made the small hole she had sunk in a muddy grave. Her tears and blood washing away to add to the puddle that surrounded her.

She watched as the gory mess melted, an odd sense of contentment at war with the agony of her condition.

It had been rage, fury and the sharp lash of fear that had sent her leaping to her death. She'd collided with the Denubae, a terrible frenzy of insanity and she had tore at the beast with her claws, her teeth, and her magic.

And it had answered her in kind. Somehow it had scented upon her Saphira and it had welcomed her with a vicious excitement, compelled not to kill her but to take her.

Each breath was becoming more and more difficult. The sharp lacerating pain of the rib that punctured a lung made more violent by the mocking protuberance of it jutting from skin, the white bone washed clean of the oozing crimson by the wash of rain.

But she ignored it for her sight was on that heap of skin and bones that was even now dissolving past chance of deciphering.

The rain had saved her. For no matter how vicious she had been. No matter how enraged she had fought. She was no match for the creature and it had shredded her defenses, sucked up her magic, and beaten her to the ground.

And then the clouds had opened up and spilt sweet tears of rain, the water hissing on the creature's skin like acid and sending it howling backwards as it sought the shelter Vesper had built deep into the side of the pit.

The rubble of its cave stood testament to her vengeance. And even now she leaned against a boulder that had once served as the ceiling of the beast's sanctuary. Mint blue eyes were clouding with the film of death as the rich arterial blood mixed in the muddy water with the remnants of Vesper's Preshuss.

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-01-26 18:56 EST



It had been a long time since Brais had walked the halls of the Institute with little concern for the goings on around him. Normally he was the one who commanded the attention and respect of those present, though lately with all of his dealings he had little time to navigate the corridors with that noble and powerful stride. His attention loomed upon other matters.

First there was Fleur and the strained relationship they had shared as roommates. Never had he witnessed a more powerful and beautiful creature, desiring her from the moment he first laid eyes. There was something about her that called to his soul, as though the cherished domain nestled between her supple legs was the sanctuary of his essence. He had ended things with Vliss and he and Fleur were now lovers, which aligned his focus once more, stronger than ever.

Vliss. The plot was simple when first initiated. Become lovers with Vliss to make Uziya jealouse and sway the attention of Tiatari Blayne away from her studies so that Brais could swoop in and steal from her the title that was rightfully his; Primorius Discipilus. He should have known that Tiatari would be so far removed from such an emotional response as to not care an ounce, but with Uziya as her lover Brais figured that the pathetic charmer would at least garner some attention. It was a late night talk with Fleur that convinced that the plot was worthless, and it was her words that drove him to split he and Vliss apart. Fleur would not be the other woman again and Brais did not blame her, which made severing the ties with Vliss simple. Rumors arose about the ire of Damien Tanner in regards to the emotional distress that consumed the luscious earth elemental with this detachment, but Brais was unconcerned. He was a prominent member of the Akuma Taijiya, an ancient clan of Cambion hunters. If the half-demon prince truly had a problem with him then he would have no quandary in displaying this skill to its lethal extent.

The thought of the Demon Hunters brought his internal view to Ozalynne and her progression. Never had he met a wizard with such potent innate ability. If she ever put her mind to it she would be a very powerful caster, though he wasn't sure she had the natural drive to find that focus which was partially the reason he had taken her under his wing. Well, that and the thought that being the mentor of one so powerful could pay dividends if she were to achieve success beyond his in the future. He doubted that she would, but with the untapped power welling within her, anything was possible. Still, she had much to learn. She had recently received her katana and was now being trained in its allegiance. Soon they would return to the Kokuri house in WestEnd and destroy it.

"Brais?"

The soft sound of the familiar voice drew his gaze, though when he turned he was surprised to see not the assumed beauty of Fleur, but that of her sister standing nearby. It was strange to see her there, her youthful body donning the novitiate uniform, considering that he had yet to hear if she had even been accepted. "Violette? What are you doing here?"

She smiled up at him, though there was a regal air held as though to do so warranted a considerable amount of effort. "I was told to deliver this missive to Vesper's cottage but can't find anyone to show me the way. I've asked around and everyone seems to be uninterested in even so much as drawing me a map." She tilted her head down, a soft pout masking her expression as she asked. "Would you help me?"

Unfortunately for her, he was immune to such charms. "No." He said, turning away.

"Wait!" She cried, quickly moving around him, blocking his path. "I have to do this, Brais! I have to! I'm trying hard to show everyone that I am worthy enough to be here and if I can't even do something as simple as deliver a message then what will they think of me? How will they take me seriously? Please! Please Brais, help me!"

Dark eyes were leveled, boring into her with a cruelty that caused her to stagger a cautious step backwards. He considered it for a moment, not really caring if the girl was accepted into the school or not, though the fact that she was Fleur's sister did mean something. "Fine." He said in a low hiss. "I will deliver the missive. You can take the credit for it, though I have no time to play babysitter or tour guide." His hand lashed out and snatched the folded paper from her grasp. "Do not bother me again during class hours. You're not a novitiate yet so you are immune to my wrath...though only for now." There were no other words as a lavender flash consumed him and he was gone.

Brais arrived to the cry of a ferocious, feral growl.

Instinctively he crouched and turned to the source of the sound, the fury of the howl so full of wretched menace that his hands swirled instantly with mana, devouring the simple parchment he intended to deliver. He had heard plenty of stories pertaining to the Faepact Warlock and would be damned if he fell victim to her insanity. There was nothing there, nothing but a pit.

Brais surveyed the scene with the keen thoroughness of a predator, sweeping a look across the rain soaked landscape as his silken white hair became instantly plastered to his face and neck. A grumble sounded, and then a sharp intake of hissed breath, all of these coming from the pit. He moved forward magic still wreathing his hands as the deadly spell he summoned lingered in hopes of release.

He did not move to the very edge, cautious that it would collapse into a mudslide from his weight, though he did get close enough to peer inside. The depths were great, and he could see that a portion of the wall had collapsed. To his surprise he found a form huddled across from this minute avalanche, the sight drawing his brow bending upward along his forehead.

"Novitiate DeSabre?"

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-27 02:36 EST
Found

Kish had been on his way to class and decided to cut through the courtyard to shave a few moments off the time it took to get there, hoping to get a better seat. It was happenstance he stumbled upon the twisted form of Saphira in the courtyard. His eyes widened as he realized who it was - she was so twisted it had taken him a moment. "Oh, Shit!"

He rushed to her and knelt, placing a hand on her breast to check for breath, for a heartbeat. It was faint, but it was there. "Saph? Saph c'mon, please, you gotta open your eyes...." He wasn't a healer but he knew she needed help. "Hang on Saph..." He muttered softly, creating a gate directly to the infirmary. Disregarding that she smelled of vomit and was twisted in a brutal half-formed state, he gently lifted her, surprised at how light she was.

He stepped through the gate with her and as they arrived in the infirmary he didn't wait to be noticed. "Mistress Evahlys! Come quickly! Please!" The note of desperation in his voice urged a quick response and he was greatly relieved to see the mistress of the infirmary herself appear before him. "What..? Oh Goodness! Quickly, bring her here!" Mistress Evahlys led him to an open bed where he gingerly lay Saphira. "I don't know what's wrong with her, I found her this way in the courtyard. Please, can you help her?"

Those azure eyes were pained as he looked at the unconscious girl, he liked her despite not having had much chance to hang out with her. It wrenched at him to see her like this.

"I'll see what I can do," Evahlys replied. "Go get cleaned up, and if you like you may wait on her, I will write you an excuse." She eyed his smeared shirt. "You might want to burn that." Kish nodded. "Yeah...yeah I'll do that." He looked to the unconscious Saphira. "You hang on, don't give up, I'll be back, I promise." With those words he hurried to his room, stripping his shirt off long before he got there and throwing it away.

When he arrived at his room he hurriedly stripped himself and washed. Grabbing a towel he dried himself as he ferreted out fresh pants and a new shirt. Jamming his feet into shoes he practically ran all the way back, worried for his friend. He needn't have run, because when he arrived he was politely but firmly informed he could not go back, and that Mistress Evahlys was doing her best for the girl. He was invited to take a seat and wait. He could not sit still and as he waited, he paced.


************************************************** ***********

It was some hours later when Mistress Evahlys finally emerged and approached him. "Kish?" Her voice was gentle, if not a bit worn. He immediately went to her. "Is she going to be all right?" His face full of worry. Mistress Evahlys nodded. "She will, but she's very delicate right now, something has traumatized her and her body has been weakened. I fear this might have ill effects on her mental and emotional state. I did manage to get her body to respond to my magic and revert, but she needs sleep. Would you like to see her now?"

Kish nodded. "Yes." Without hesitation. "Very well. Mind she isn't awake, and will not be for some time, I cast a sleep over her to help give her body time to recover." She spoke over her shoulder as she led Kish to the bed where Saphira slept. He noted she'd been cleaned up and the linens had been changed too. He pulled a stool close to her bed and sat, looking at her. He just couldn't believe it. This beautiful, powerful girl who had been so sweet and gentle was now laying in the infirmary and not likely to be leaving any time soon. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked.

Evahlys was thoughtful a moment. "She will need caring for, and help when she awakens and is strong enough to leave here, though I do not want her leaving until her natural cycle is over.I will keep her asleep until it is.." Kish looked up at her, his eyes serious. "I'll do it." He didn't hesitate to volunteer. "Good, excellent." Evahlys replied. "I do have one question though, perhaps you could help me with. " "Yeah, anything." Looking back at Saphira, taking her unresponsive hand in his. "Is it yours?" She asked him. "What?" Kish looked up, confused. Evahlys looked at him sternly.

"This girl is pregnant"

http://img59.imageshack.us/img59/6106/saphiraface.jpg

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-28 14:25 EST
Monsters and mercy

Albion had come to the infirmary several days after she'd been admitted. Kish had been kind enough to convey her desire to speak with him for her.
Kish had done everything he could to help, spending most of his free time at her bedside, often only if to watch her slumber. The third day he'd brought her a teddy bear. "Thought you'd like something for when I have to be in class." Had been the offered explanation. Saphira had been touched.

As her claret haired friend brought her back to the waking world with a soft spoken word she'd felt gratitude wash over her. She was overjoyed to see him, even though the circumstances were grim. "How are you feeling?" Had been the concerned inquiry. She wasn't feeling well, despite Mistress Evahlys' assurances she would be fine. She conveyed this to him, coupled with what she knew about Quilly's knowledge of the plot to set in motion her next revelation. She told him with no small measure of misery she was pregnant.

He'd stiffened, and done what he had genuinely believed to be the right thing, holding her comfortingly. He had suggested the abomination that grew within her be extracted. No good could come of the union that had taken place resulting in what he was sure would be a monster like the beast that had sired it. Saphira had been sickened at the suggestion.

"You cannot mean that I should kill it?" Eyes horrified she suddenly was over taken by a wave of nausea and twisted reaching for the bucket by her bed and retching. "Saphira" He'd taken a gentle but firm tone after she'd finally managed to sit back up. "You cannot think this child would be anything but a monster? You are beautiful, would you tarnish that by birthing this child?" He had struck a nerve in her. When she was but a child she herself had been called monster and almost killed all for the lack of tolerance and understanding. she could not bring herself to do what had been done to her.

"And what of me, Albion? Am I a monster? Would you see me killed? By logic much like yours my life was nearly robbed from me. I cannot do the same to my child. We cannot know for certain it will be a monster." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You would keep this child all in the hope of a chance? Saphira, please, see logic. This child's lineage alone creates a high likelihood it will be a monster." She challenged him. "And if you are wrong?" Her voice had been soft, but she set her jaw.

During all this Mistress Evahlys had been giving Albion stern and dark looks. She thought she now knew who the father of the girl's baby was now and the disapproving scowl darkened as she heard him pushing for her patient to rid herself of his baby. He wasn't getting anywhere and finally relented. "Alright, Saph. whatever you decide, I want you to know I'm behind you." He sighed and brightened a bit."I do have some good news. I think I can help you with your..other side." He didn't want to call it a monster, knowing she would be offended.

"The charm isn't what helps, rather the magic inside. It might be extracted and we could re-work it that you could use the magic without the charm." He didn't go into details as it was much more complicated than it sounded. She'd been eager at those words. "I would be grateful if you would help me. Perhaps it will help my child as well.." Albion doubted that, after all Denubae ate magic and it was likely the child would do the same before the effect could take hold. He didn't say that though.

He tucked her hair behind her ear for a third time, having done so twice before throughout their visit and looked at the clock, surprised at the time. "I have to get going, but when I come back I'll bring you a book, perhaps something on Lunar cycles?" He smiled. She nodded, looking suddenly as tired as she felt. "Id' like that..." He settled her back into the bed smoothing her blankets around her. "Will you be alright?" She nodded. "Yes, Kish promised to come see me after class. He's been spending a lot of time with me..." Albion nodded. "Good you get some rest." "Albion?" He turned to her again, pausing. "Yea?"

"Thank you. I know you don't agree with me, but...It means the world to me you are willing to help." He nodded. "Of course." He rose to go, noting Evahlys still giving him dark looks. He'd have to come back and straighten that out later. He rose from his seat on the edge of her bed and left. Saphira closed her eyes wearily and slept.

((Thank you Albion for the fantastic scene this was adapted from!!))

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-28 15:10 EST
A welcome visitor

(A few hours after Albion's visit)

Kish had returned to the infirmary as soon as class had been dismissed. He had not even bothered to stop by his room to drop off his books, rather hurried straight there. When he arrived he was not surprised to find Saphira sleeping again. He knew she'd been very tired, even though she'd slept the first two and a half days solid. He'd brought her a teddy bear and had been quite pleased at how well it had been received when she'd awakened.

He settled himself on the edge of her bed, gently smoothing that silken white hair back from her brow. She was so beautiful. Even though he knew what had happened to her, knew she carried the magic eater's get, he found her beautiful. She stirred at the touch and slowly opened her eyes. "Kish.." She managed a wan smile, glad to see him. "Hey sleeping beauty." He said softly.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes with her hands. Kish noted she'd been sleeping with the bear he'd brought her and found himself smiling. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry or anything?" Solicitously, watching her closely. She stretched, thickly furred bosom lifting free of the blankets. Even with her recovering and that thick fur, something in the back of his mind was enticed by the thought she was naked. He kept his face carefully neutral. She blinked a time or two and nodded gently.

"I am, actually.." She did not think to tell him she'd lost her breakfast some hours earlier. she did not want him to think she was so frail she could not even hold down her food. "Well, what would you like. anything you request, I'll get it for you." This was said with a flourish of his arm, knowing his antics would make her smile. He was right, she did smile. She replied without thinking, feeling a thirst, a desire that was not entirely her own overtake her. "Blood.." Kish looked shocked. "Wait,what?"

She looked surprised herself. "I..don't know why I said that...." She wanted it though. She closed her eyes, searching herself before she realized it was Mystri prompting this craving, but she wished to satisfy it nonetheless. "I'm sorry I...think it has something to do with Mystri..she needs it.." She wasn't entirely certain why her bondmate needed it though. Kish considered. "I don't think they have that in the cafeteria.."
Saphira craved it as surely as Mystri had and now her empty stomach complained. "I'll see if Mistress Evahlys keeps any..she might after all serious injuries often result in blood loss that would have to be replaced.."

He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his chin. "I'll be right back." He sought out the Mistress of the infirmary and spoke with her about Saphira's odd request and was glad when she'd given him a plastic transfusion bag filled with what the lycan was craving. He brought it to her and she gratefully accepted. She had no fangs so her means of consumption was more mundane. Kish watched in morbid fascination as she drained it, and sighed softly in satisfaction. Her eyes flicked up to him, sheepish. "Thanks, Kish..I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable.."

He waved it off, and even took the empty bag to discard it. "Don't you worry your pretty head. They say pregnant women crave all sorts of crazy things." He smiled encouragingly to her and she smiled back. "I almost forgot!" He said suddenly. "I have something for you." There was a glint in his eye as he put his hands behind his back. She tilted her head. "Oh? What is it?" He brought his hands back around in front of himself and there held out to her a rose, artfully crafted from ice.

"For you." Her eyes widened and she took it delicately marveling at them. "Oh, Kish, it's beautiful!" She breathed, eyes shining, and for a moment her horrors seemed to melt from her, if only for a short while." He smiled at her. "I hoped you'd like that. And it won't melt, either so don't worry about that. But you see I'm afraid there is a price for this sort of quality craftsmanship." Mischief in his blue eyes. She looked up at him. "A..price?" How could he put a price on a gift? "Yes," He tried to sound grave. "A hug from a beautiful girl with silky fur. and seeing as you're the only one around I'm afraid you'll have to pay the price." He grinned impishly.

Saphira laughed softly. "Gladly." She very quickly flicked her fingers and murmured forming a receptacle for the rose on the bedside table and set them within so she could admire it. Then she leaned forward to hug him. Kish returned the embrace gently, enjoying the feel of her slender form and soft fur. She smelled good, too, he mused. He smoothed her hair with one hand. "You should sleep some more, Saph." Gently. "You need your rest. don't worry I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise." Reluctantly disengaging from the hug to gently encourage her to lay down and tucked the blanket up around her and giving her the little blue teddy bear as well. She yawned.

"You're probably right.." She hadn't wanted to let him go, it'd felt so nice to feel comforting arms around her. But weariness was not to be denied and even as she fought to keep her eyes open she was soon sleeping. He watched her a few moments, then opened his books to study while she slept.

http://www.montrealflowers.org/images/first-blue-teddy-bear.jpghttp://x77.xanga.com/a288065774410229107594/b128085529.jpg

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-29 19:19 EST
Out of the Pit.

?Novitiate DeSabre?" His voice cut through the fall of the rain as he glared down at her, a bit confused with the chaotic destruction that lay at the bottom of the pit. "What are you doing down there?"

His voice seemed otherworldly. A strange glimmer of consciousness in her otherwise disoriented mind. The pain was jagged and vicious, streaking in sharp hot waves that had her seeking the numbness of unconsciousness. She didn't want to stir, didn't dare move, but her instinct for survival remained fully engaged and she forced her head back to peer up through the rain. A bubble of pink froth bursting from her lips as she sought to make some sound of recognition.

His brow arched at that primordial sound, recognizing predatory subconscious for what it was. He swept back his drenched ivory hair with a hand, sliding it out of his eyes so that he could examine the footing of the cavernous well. It was not safe to linger around Vesper's estate, and while he wasn't sure what Mystriana had done, it would not be safe for either of them if the wrath of the Faepact Warlock was tempted. He took a step forward and was instantly grasped by magic to begin a floating drift downward. "Novitiate, listen to me. You are not allowed to be in these parts. Speak, and tell me what you are doing here before punishment is issued." His voice was still sharp, razored with an undertone of threat.

The mud had formed around her, slickened by the fall of the rain until it had become an oozing bed for her to settle in. Almost womblike she'd settled deeper and deeper and had come to accept her fate. His razored voice, sharp with demand and the expectancy of obedience, was drawing her from the warmth and returning her to consciousness. A conscious state that was in agony. Her fingers curled into the mud in a spasmodic grasp as a gurgling cry pierced the air. Without her shapeshifter's cloak of menace and competence about her she was surprisingly frail. A broken woman-child, tiny and slender, soaked by the rain and her blood, the muddy water about her stained pink by the dilution of her life'sblood. Her ribcage was shattered and one particular bone stood, stark white, its jagged edge protruding from side as if the broken hilt of a blade. Her chin rested upon her sternum, the strength to lift it to watch him descend having deserted her. As she flickered in and out of cognizance she found herself staring in wonder at the descent of..an angel...with his white hair slicked from the rain into a cloak around patrician features. His regal command was godlike and she whimpered and closed her eyes against him.

The controlled descent waivered slightly as the residual power of the recently killed Denubae still radiated from its corpse. Luckily that devastating trait was fading quickly, offering him enough time to land. Boots sunk a little into the slushy mud at the bottom of the pit, though that did not stop him from first examining the mangled canine form sticking half-way out of the rockslide. Wire thin lips held true, showing no response to the sight. He then turned to Mystri and surveyed her and her wounds. She was injured and weak, a frail echo of the normally lithe Novitiate. He could still sense that animalistic essence about her, which was the primary reason for his strikingly solemn tone. "I'm going to pick you up, Novitiate, so I can get you out of this pit. If you lash out at me it will garner my defense, which will be painful." He took a step toward her and then slowly lowered to a knee, using only his ebon gaze to study the extent of her wounds. "You are hurt and need help."

His words were recognized even if she couldn't voice her understanding. The sound of her air whistling through the shredded lung was audible now at this distance, the rain washing that gleaming white bone clean of the blood that oozed pitifully at the base of the rip in her flesh. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. But her eyes held that wicked cunning intelligence that clearly exhibited her comprehension. He was a gorgeous sight and in more ways than one. Salvation outweighed the purely physical appreciation of his lean warrior's stance or even the predator's recognition of another's strength. She suddenly remembered the words of the cambions and knew without any doubt that this was indeed the man they feared.

Movement was steady as arms slid forward, eyes locked solely upon hers. He drew himself just a bit closer, one arm curling around her shoulders, the other beneath her knees. He knew that lifting her was going to apply pressure to the bone that protruded from her flesh, though had to get her up and out of the pit before the rain filled it with water...or worse, before Vesper returned. He didn't know why there was a monster lurking n the pit, figuring that perhaps it had chased Mystri down inside where its fate was sealed. It didn't matter, really. It was dead and she was injured; seriously so. "This is going to be painful. Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on as tight as you can." He hoped his words struck home but had little time to wait for confirmation. With only the muscles of his slender, powerful legs, he lifted her off the soaking pit floor.

Agony. The fiery path of pain that laced itself through her body would've stolen her breath had she any left to give. Her body went rigid with it, mint blue eyes flying up toward Brais' as her mouth opened in a rictus of a scream that had no power and therefore no sound. As he rose to his full height her eyes rolled, revealing the whites and she went limp. Not much bigger than Ozzie, hers was a slight weight to have to hold, though the muscles that laced her form were toned and taut even in her unconscious state. This close to the Denubae, Brais would be able to feel the pulsating darkness that frightened many a magic user. A sucking hole that pulled at his magic as if it could still feed and perhaps save itself, yet the puddle of its gore remained unmoving as the rain washed it away, pounding the form into a viscous goo that mixed with the muddy blood and water that was even now ankle deep upon the mage.

He struggled to maintain the levitation spell that carried them slowly upward. Normally such a simple spell required little concentration, though with the close proximity of the Denubae he was forced to strain to maintain the required focus. The distance grew higher and higher, the lip of the pit just in sight, and even then Brais wasn't sure that they would make it, the pull of the dead monster pulling at him, grasping desperately at the magic he used. With a groan he thrust them over the edge, back upon the earth he landed upon slick steps, nearly stumbling, but ultimately able to maintain his balance. His chest heaved against her folded shoulders, breath drawn in laborious gasps as he quickly looked her over to make sure she was still with him. "I will gate us back. The pressure of the teleportation will be agonizing at first. Feel free to scream when we arrive." His words were strictly explanatory, lacking compassion or sympathy.

As he struggled to find freedom for them both he carried them further away from the Denubae and its dreaded magical weight, she remained unconscious but there was something happening to her body, a ripple, almost liquid in its movements, slid over her pale icy skin. She was a limp ragdoll, his words lost on her, though Mystri was probably one of the few people who could appreciate Brais' cynical statement.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-29 19:22 EST
And into...?
A word ignited the flash, and instantly they were gone, vanishing from the rainfall to appear within the Infirmary. Cold and quiet, there was little motion or sound save for the dripping that fell from them upon the floor, the noiseless chamber making those small sounds much bigger than they should have been. As he moved for one of the empty tables he heard the click of heels coming around the corner, and gave the possessor of those steps not a single look. Evahlys narrowed her eyes upon the man his mage robes and stark white hair revealing who he was: the Infamous Brais Galician. She nearly unleashed her venomous tongue upon him before she realized that he was hoisting an injured student upon the medical table. She moved with a concerned step, those clicking heels a bit more prominent, and as she arrived she shouldered past him to examine the victim. "What happened here?"

He stepped to the side with her urging, unconcerned with her attempt to show dominance with her Infirmary. "I don't know, I found her this way." He stated simply.

She did scream. It was an unholy sound that combined the vocal chords of many animalistic interpretations. The howl had the intonations of a bird's cry, the overtones of a hissing snake, and the angry snarl of an enraged cat. And it was accompanied by a wickedly violent series of convulsions that were just as suddenly stilled as she shifted in a fluidly beautiful motion, liquidly gliding into an arch that had her toned body sprouting feathers that just as quickly morphed into fur and sheened into startlingly beautiful scales. Her body bowed upward with the change, her head dropping back as those eyes that were pried open altered wildly from an opaque sheen, to a cat's diamond, to a snake's slit. And beneath that ripplingly dramatic transmuting something nearly miraculous occurred. Her body subsiding onto the table, mended and whole, the torn flesh no longer visible, the bone reformed and her breathing ragged.
Her eyes, previously clinched shut again, opened and narrowed upon Brais, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a near snarl as she hissed, "The #$%^&* infirmary? Seriously."

Momentarily startled, Evahlys took a step back as Mystri went through the quick changes. "Termagant Metamorphosis." She whispered before giving Brais a cursory look. "Transmutative overload." With a turn she took one step away but then froze as she heard Mystri's voice, cognizant and clear. She turned back, simply amazed. Brais, on the other hand, showed no such awe. Eyes of almond shape stared at her with a dry languor, his chin dipping to show her a more narrowed gaze. "You were injured, Novitiate. You needed aid." He paused, those hard eyes dropping to survey her suddenly damage-free form. "At least you did."

His eyes were entirely too observant and while her injuries had been reformed by her shapeshifting ability it was apparent that she was still laboring to survive despite her fierceness. The blood loss was apparent in the paleness of her skin, and the shallowness of her breathing even as she struggled weakly to rise into a sitting position. Her pissy temperament soothed in part by the very real knowledge that without his assitance she would surely be dead. "I did." Shortly, panting slightly with exertion necessary to talk as she admitted almost bitterly. "I could not shift so close to the magiceater." A fine tremble wracking her very naked form.
Evahlys' destination changed. No longer in need of the silver based salve, she instead headed for the metal shelves that held medical gowns and extra blankets. Brais' brow can together a bit at her mention of the Denubae, a glance over his shoulder indicating that he did not wish for her to speak of the creature in front of the Mistress of the Infirmary. He folded his arms across his chest, the crease in the arms of his Mage coat spilling rivulets of rain water upon the floor near his feet. "I was unaware your race of shapeshifter could regenerate by changing. I thought that was a strictly lycan trait." There was something in his tone, something in the way he spoke, that hinted to the fact that he may have had intimate knowledge of exactly what she was.

Words were lost, though with the return of Evahlys, dropping the folded garments upon the table. "You are free to stay here tonight if you so wish. I can have an attendant see to your needs. You can put these on..." She turned an accusatory look on Brais then. "...if you could get some privacy."

Brais did not shift his head, only his eyes, sliding them sidelong to observe the Head Nurse. "We're all adults here." He assured her.

"So not staying." And she pushed free from the table, stumbling forward on knees too weak hold her and headed for a face plant that would most assuredly wound her dignity more than her body.

Like vipers waiting to uncoil his hands lashed out and took her by the arms, keeping her upright. He hissed, and if she looked up she would see that his expression demonstrated an irritation at having to do so. "If you are too weak to walk you should stay." A simple logic, really.

She'd caught his look at the Mistress' back and was more than willing to seal her lips, in fact such an indiscretion as her previous statement was abnormal for the normally recalcitrant shapeshifter, a sure indicator of her less than fully functioning state. "I'm not staying here." She hissed right back from beneath the silvery white strands of pink dipped hair. Hard tremors were wracking her body now and her pupils had dilated to almost pure black circles only edged in mint blue. Softly, so softly he might think he imagined it... (vs)... "please."

He sighed, turning his dark eyes to meet the inquisitive look of the Infirmary Mistress. "I'll see her to her rooms." The statement was said with an air of finality that revealed he did not require her approval. He turned, one hand holding her arm, the other curled around her waist to steer her forward, and led her from the Infirmary without so much as a glance back or a thank you to the Nurse. After all, Evahlys had done nothing. It was all the Shapeshifter.

It didn't help that she had no use for such a place as this and indeed, found it so distasteful that she could not find an exit fast enough. She was also very much aware that her sign of weakness had put herself in a position of subordinate to Brais that she was not thrilled with. It didn't take her long to alight on a way to even things, with things aright in her mind she allowed herself to lean fully into him and didn't seek to hide the tremors that were wracking her small body. Drawing his cloak about her nakedness as she plastered herself to the lean hard edges of his body. "Thank you." And it was short and sharp, two words heard from her lips with such rarity that it was as if the world had slipped out of sync for a moment.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-29 19:24 EST
...A Confrontation

He cradled her between his sinewy arm and rippling side. The exterior of the cloak was soaking wet, but the inside was as dry as bone and lined with fur that caressed bare flesh, especially one as bare as she. It was obvious in the way the held her and the way that he moved that he did not aid her out of concern, but out of support. Still there was no sympathy. Their course was diverted as she spoke, as though those two words and changed their path, and he led them into an empty classroom, the door drawn closed behind them and sealed with a wizard's lock even as he lead her to the teacher's desk and helped her sit. He stood tall and took a step back, accusation filling his obsidian stare. "Why were you there?" His words sharp, his tone low.

She fell against the desk with much less grace than was her usual wont and as his cloak pulled free with his movements she was beset by harder shudders unable to regulate her temperature in her current state. Her dilated pupils seemed out of focus and he'd notice as keenly observant as he was, that her jaw was clenching oddly. She took a deep breath, "I-I can't do this right now Brais." An odd feathery stutter to her words, almost sibilant in sound.

"You can." He assured her, before adding. "You will." He stepped forward and placed his hand upon her shoulder, a harsh shove intending to send her down into the chair awaiting her naked bottom. "Why were you there in that pit with the Denubae? I've seen you, Novitiate, lurking and watching. You are far too observant to make such a mistake by accident."

She fell hard. Her liquid limbs unable to hold her against his strength, but the sharp black glare he received clearly exhibited how little she cared for his actions. Her jaw clenched strangely again and he'd glimpse the elongated viper fangs. Her fingers exhibiting claws that clenched and curled. "Brais. You don't want to push me right now." She hissed, definitely more sibilant. "We'll talk. You can tell me about the Cambion house, Akuma. And I'll tell you about the Denubae Pit." She closed her eyes against the sight of him, her hunger now more palpable, her lips wettened. "But I need to replace the blood loss." The words sensual, laced with a primordial weight, suddenly slickly desirable and as her eyes reopened upon him they glowed with a luminescence that was purely inhuman, hypnotically appealing.

Her initial warning drew him a step closer, though the following suggestion regarding the Cambions and the Akuma stalled his step, shoulders straightening with surprise. It seemed the little minx had her own resources to gamble with. How did she know about the Akuma? Surely Ozalynne hadn't told her. He had made it crystal clear that what the did was to remain a secret. He tightened his jaw at the thought, need an answer. Slowly he nodded. "Very well." The second statement drew a confused look, evident by the way his thin white brow arched high upon his head. "How do you replenish your blood loss?" He wasn't ignorant, and even as he asked began to quietly raise his magical wards. The look in her eye, however, he wasn't expecting, and as he glanced downward and met her gaze he found himself taking a small step forward, more curious than entangled. "What..are you doing?"

She clenched her eyes shut against the sight of him, her hunger giving her the sheen of luscious seduction used by predators in the wild. She was suddenly unaccountably attractive, her body lithe and lushly inviting, her scent wildly arousing. The appearance of sweet enamoring delicacy fit about her as easily as did her normally bitchy exterior. Her chin lifted as she turned her head to the side, her nose flaring as it filled with the scent of him. Hunger making her lightheaded. "Brais. I need.. ? and the word hung on the air for a moment, thrumming with eroticism that couldn't be contained, vibrating with a velvet power. "I need you to go away." She swallowed hard as the words were particularly hard to enunciate, the column of her throat moving as if a beckoning in and of itself. "I'll hunt." Though the weakness that assailed her body made the idea of such a feat ludicrous even as her primordial instincts prepared her next meal with the glamour of welcoming sinful indulgence.

That entranced stare was broken and he laughed, condescendingly targeted upon her quivering form. "You are in no shape to do any sort of hunting, unless you are looking for a bed to collapse upon." He took a step toward her, his hand falling to her shoulder where the tips of his fingers drew a thin, wispy line across her naked flesh. The primal allure she exuded was intense, he could not deny that, even if it was in his own way. The trail swept along the collarbone to the join of the neck where the pulsating vein that climbed to the ear was lightly traveled. "You are no good here...to anyone. You need rest. Immediately."

His condescending laugh was met with a snarl, vicious and violent she attacked him, brought on by her desire to feed. She'd been foolish to ignore it, to think she could control it, as close to death as she had come. A shapeshifter could easily mend broken bones and torn flesh but could do nothing to replenish the loss of blood that she had experienced. At least not magically. To ignore the primitive call of her kind was one thing but when combined with Brais' arrogant dismissal she was in no condition to rein in her bitchy side. She was fierce. Fast. And shockingly strong. And the potent glamour of her kind was in full effect. She was inhumanly beautiful, her skin glassy white and perfect, her mint blue eyes glowing in the darkness of the locked classroom. She flowed into him with no real hint of impact, the motion fluid as she sought to roll him backwards, her legs twining about him, arms clasping his shoulders, fingers weaving in his hair to pull that glorious white mane of hair and gift her with the column of his throat. Her viper's fangs dripped with a paralytic venom that would bring with its induction a state of ecstasy that surpassed orgasm and she brought them to bear against his skin, unable to contain her desire to taste his blood, to drink him deeply.

Had she given him no warning earlier - I need to replace the blood loss - he may have been easy prey, but it was then that he summoned those wards of protective magic and as she leapt upon him she would find out first hand exactly how potent they were. The first solidified his flesh to the strength of steel, leaving her fangs to graze harmlessly across it without so much as a small tear. The second, though, infused this protected flesh with an electrical current that, when touched, transferred the power across the connection. He did nothing to keep her from lunging and grappling him, wishing to see how she responded to the surging power that ignited with her primordial embrace.

Enraged past the point of sanity she snarled viciously at the denial of his flesh in her mouth as her fangs slid across his hardened skin. Her limbs convulsing about him as the electricity coursed through her. Much much too weak she slid boneless from her attacking perch, panting in a crouch at his feet. The hunger had boiled with a new emotion and it was hate that poured from her gaze though a shake of her head revealed her attempts to regain control. That hypnotic glowing vision dropping to the ground. "Brais. Get away from me." The words were soft, her claws elongating further and her scent growing more potent with each passing second. She turned her head animalistically to the side and scented the air. Lashes parting to reveal a thin slit of glowing mint blue as she looked to the windows of the classroom.

"You dare attack me?" And in that lacerating accusation lingered a sense of insult. With a speed that matched the lightning that coated his flesh he lashed out with a snap kick that aimed the sole of his boot for the center of her chest as she crouched before him, the attack aided by the gathering of magic normally reserved for impacting Cambions. He was more than willing to help her, more than willing to take her back to her room and speak to her another time in regards to the Akuma and the Denubae, but what he wasn't willing to accept was insubordination, no matter the cause. He was her superior, in rank among many other ways, and he would be more than happy to put her in her place...her being weakened not an issue of the Mage.

She was operating on a nearly purely instinctual level now and her normally lightning fast reflexes were already responding to his kick as he aimed it, but she was much too weak after her recent experiences to avoid the blow. The magic aided kick sending her slamming back into a row of desks, the crack of bone only aiding in the violent explosion of sound. She skidded to a stop, a pile of limbs, naked and glowing with intensity that only increased with the more insulting injury. No longer in control, her body responded as nature intended. Like a venus fly trap it only became more beautiful, more enticing, more demandingly seductive as it sought to lure in its food. Her skin glowed with a luminescent sheen, her liquid movements alluring as she pushed up from her stomach, hot glowing eyes licking over him. Bones mended again, the fluid shift of her body almost an enticing welcome, an intimate show for him. "Brais." His name caressed in an eerie weaving of sounds, inhuman and potent.
This time she did not implore him to leave. The word a demanding supplication. An alluring challenge. Quite simply. A dare.

He watched as she crashed into the rows of the desks, knocking some over, sending some away, as she crumpled to the ground in a winding flail of naked torso and limbs. He then watched as she pushed herself up, the carnal glare in her eye, the inviting undulation of her prowling body, calling to the very essence that made him a man. A simple acknowledgement and he would surrender to it, and who knows what other damage would be done to the classroom they currently destroyed. He refused, though, well aware that the creature before him was not operating upon sentient thought, but simply primal instinct. He moved toward her, a sweep of his arm sending the overturned desks skittering away, the path between them cleared. His eyes were almond shaped slits, meeting her with an intent to intimidate, to show and prove dominance. "Novitiate." He snapped, stopping well within arm's reach of her. "Submit."

It was the first word that drew her focus and thankfully the second that became lost in the struggle for control. She was a novitiate here. She was Mystriana. She was a student. And he was Brais Galician. Not sustenance. Not her enemy. The glowing luminosity of her eyes dimmed as she struggled for supremacy. Venom dripping fangs revealed by the peeling of her lips as she hissed at him. The almost painful sheen of her attraction dimming as she slid back against the wall, forcing her eyes closed and her breathing to regulate. "I'm pretty sure I asked you to leave." The words still holding that otherwordly seduction, quivering with enticement that she still could not control. Her lack of blood was reaching a critical level but no longer was her survivor's predatory instinct in control. Her pale, pale skin steadily still losing its glow even as she began to fade in more than just her innate abilities.

"You speak as though your request holds any weight." Lips sneered to show teeth, even as his hands lifted to the clasp of his cloak and unfastened it, sliding it from his shoulders and taking it by the neckline to hold it open. The sight of her did in fact strum at his internal animal, that sensual allure unable to be ignored. But he was a creature of purpose and focus, one who could defeat temptation no matter its stem, save for one. He narrowed his eyes harder, channeling a raw agony and rage at the sight of her, these emotions born of a lifetime of scorn and demand. "This is the last time I will suggest that you need to go and get rest. Next I will simply beat you into unconsciousness and drag you by the mane to your room." Had any other said those words it may have sounded teasing, or sternly playful, but there was no indication in the scolding tone of the Mage that he was not speaking a detailed truth.

She would've sneered. Really. It would've been her knee-jerk response to him if it weren't for the fact that she was operating on a much more primal level right now. The magical being in her recognized the steel that threaded through him, the implacable will. And it respected it. There was no flippant response. Indeed she was near to passing out and would rather fall dead at his feet than faint. The glow in her gaze had completely faded to leave the dilated pupils staring into his, expressionless she pushed from the wall. "No need for beating or dragging." The faint flicker of her frantic pulse visible in her throat as she weaved but managed to stay upright.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-01-29 19:28 EST
To Find a Better Understanding

A partial step around and he folded the cloak around her, sheathing her naked form in the fur lining that warmly and smoothly embraced her flesh. Once adorned her moved away, a half dozen steps taken before he came to a fading stop, the turn of his head showing her just his profile as he watched her with the periphery of his gaze. "Do you feed like a vampire?" That threatening tone rolled into something a bit more analytical, no menace to be found. "Does the blood of another replenish you?"

She couldn't keep pace with him, his long legged strides impossible for her to mimic. Weak as a newborn kitten she trembled with each step incredibly grateful for his cloak, its warmth and weight undeniably soothing, the potency of his smell there as well. He was a bastard, but a damn good smelling one. The small voice that had whispered for her to simply curl up and give into the beckoning bliss of darkness had risen its tenor and she was looking longingly at a corner. To just stop moving, stop striving, wrapped up in the warmth of his cloak and to give into peace. She blinked him back into focus. Her expressionless face eerie in its complete lack of concern, no hint of her usual fire to be found. "The vampires feed like us." And there it was, the bite of her temperament found in her words.

"And the repercussion to those you feed upon?" Still he gave her only his back and his profile, his wire thin lips parting at the corner to speak.
She followed the sound of his voice, unaware that her senses had dimmed and he wasn't near as far away as he seemed. Her tone was almost sleepy as she thickly responded, "Loss of blood." And yes, it was snarky. If weakly so.

"So be it." Still with his back to her she couldn't see the movement that followed, though heard the distinct sound of steel slicking blood, and just moments later that sound was confirmed as he held his arm straight out. His sleeve had been rolled up clear past the forearm to reveal the corded length of his forearm, where a thin line had been sliced and blood welled along the gash into a series of desperate droplets. He said nothing else, simple held his arm aloof, waiting for her response.

Her response was immediate. The eerie glow of mint blue suddenly blazingly intense, her nose flaring with the scent of his coppery blood. She wanted to question his actions, she wanted to warn him that she had no control in her current state. She wanted to taste him, to lick the blood from the skin where it welled, to suck him deep and hold him inside. She wanted. With a ferocity that nearly struck her silent. She was able to whisper only one warning, "Protect yourself." Before her fangs slid free, piercingly sharp and dripping that bead of venom. The blink of speed that had her at his side was inhuman, aided by the agility of the supernatural. She was just suddenly there, his arm grasped in her eager hands. Her tongue emerging to lick up that crimson beaded path of need. His taste exploded inside her mouth and as she arrived at the crook of his arm she gave in to the temptation. The first piercing pressure of her fangs painful and uncomfortable before the venom slid into his blood stream, her tongue gliding along the pulse there soothingly as she waited for its effect with the primal anticipation of an animal, a quiver aiding the throaty whimper that purred along his flesh. Warmth would spread through his body, cozy and sweet, inducing indulgence and relaxation. But as it hit his heart it would alter, a fiery ecstasy burning bright. Heating up, boiling with growing intensity, an arousal that was satiated. He'd feel blissfully aroused...until it traveled to his brain and then the hallucinations would start... ..he'd have it all. Whatever it was. He'd be at the top of his game. The pinnacle of his success. Whatever he desired most would suddenly be his, the endorphin high only aiding in the purity of his visions.

He clenched his hand into a fist over and over again, filling that gash with a superfluous among of blood. He hissed as her mouth enclosed around the wound and she began to milk the crimson ichor form his flesh, though made not movement to stop her. Made no movement at all. The taste of his blood was unique and the potency rare thanks to his lineage, able to be used as such sustenance with a quick response time. He felt the burn of her venom being through his veins, and it was this that drew a hiss between clenched teeth. With the insurgence of the poison that steel-like stance would lighten, a bend finding his arm and then his knees as his head lolled slightly, the breath he held rolling out in a languid dispel. Thin lips spread into a smile as dark eyes faded momentarily behind the heavy lashes.

"Primorius Discipulus." The words stemmed from oblivion, though were said not once, but twice.

She drank and in this she was un-vampiric. She possessed no ability to suck as competently as the undead. Hers was an animalistic feasting, like a great cat her tongue would dip out and lap up his blood as it welled, her kneading hands rolling into the muscles of his arm in a soothingly hungered fashion. It was not bestial in the sense that there was no ferocity, no viciousness and no violence. She was almost lazy in her indulge in his blood, soaking her tongue in his fluids and drawing them back into the heated recesses of her mouth. She'd curl into his relaxed form, her back to his chest, his arm drawn across her mouth as she eased them downward almost delicately.

Breath was shallow and his arm was curled as he more than welcomed her into the confines of his chest. Cradling her against him, he kept his arm upon her lips, letting her lick and drink as much as she needed. Luckily for him his arcane nature helped refute the embrace of her venom than had he been purely human, but even as the potency of the hallucinations were broken down he was still overcome with a satiated sense. His body was warm and he could feel the dull beat of his heart in his ears. He wasn't sure why but he tilted his head and rested it upon hers. "You need..." He struggled with the next part, unsure as to what would really help her now that she was feeding.

A revelation that was unknown to her would now belong to Brais, though in his present state of hypnotic bliss he might remain unaware, the venom of the shapeshifter was the true resource. The reason the ancient mages of the Twilight Islands had claimed them as slaves had less to do with their physical abilities as shifters and more to do with this very experience he was engaged in. Like the peyote used by indigenous people, this drug induced a trance that heightened the mind's ability to function. Crisp clarity would weave itself around the hallucinations. His desires not only visible but made more real and attainable. Problems that had hounded him would suddenly seem less snarled and their solutions more readily apparent.

She tucked into him, claiming his lap with her slight weight as surely as she held his muscled arm as her prize. Lapping, the wet sounds of pleasurable feasting erotic as she fed. Her glow regaining its potency, the sheen of her skin becoming alluring as her body replenished itself in a ritualistic manner never engaged in by her before.

He drifted between indulgence and resistance. Obviously there was something wrong, as such bounty was not so readily obtained, and yet the answers to all of his problems so easily within reach made him want to believe it eagerly. He lowered with her, at first down to a kneel and then onto his haunches, letting her claim the throne of his lap as he watched her skin begin to rejuvenate and her eyes revitalize. Natural resistance was now in full swing as the venom was broken down and exuded through pores in the shape of chilled beads of sweat. He moaned softly, the wound tingling with the power of her feeding, and yet still his hand clenched again and again to offer her more of the feast. "You...need....to stop."

Stopping was not an option. She'd warned him. She'd told him to protect himself. She'd probably left out the most important information. She'd never done this before. Feasting on another human had seemed abhorrent and ridiculously intimate. Anytime she'd needed blood she'd hunted and killed the object of her replenishing. She growled, a soft thrumming purr of denial at his words, the long slow lick of her tongue teasing up the length of his forearm in almost sensual foreplay.
Pleasure nearly became a grimace at her continual feeding, the loss of his own nectar drawing a haze of confusion and unbalance into view. He growled, a feral emission akin to her native din, and while he continued to pump the blood from his fist along that seeping wound he flexed the muscle that lined his arm, desperate to pull away but too weak to actual do so. Breath filled his lungs more quickly as he watched her, entranced by her feeding.

***********
Later they would part with an odd understanding forged. He would go on to ride the high of her venom, crystal clarity a gift for the next twenty four hours, and she with an acute sense of demonic blood: able to smell them, hear them, feel them with her own preternaturally strengthened senses.

Restored for now she avoided Saphira and kept the bond as tightly closed as she could manage. Though she kept communion with Lune and ambushed Kish for an update. Unaware that she knew nothing about Saphira's state he referenced her "condition" but failed to elaborate.

Keeping her distance, Albion, as well, would be greeted with the drift of a feather on the air, or the fleeting flicker of a fluffy white tail around a corner, but never the full sight of her, always one step ahead and one step away.

And if Quillyan felt the weight of a feral gaze following her it could just be nerves...

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-29 23:13 EST
Two of Hearts...

{Vliss & Damien}

When did it happen? When did they end up cuddled in his bed? After breaking the mirror? After the worst of her nightmares? It wasn?t something that was planned. It just happened, and he welcomed it.

===============================================

She woke, stirring on his chest, the muscular contours comforting her through yet another night without the dreams. It was his steady heart that thrummed against her ear that lulled her so completely. The heavy rise and fall of his chest enough to lift her and almost rock her to sleep. A stretch drew her body against his, all long limbs and elegant lines, the heavy coil of her unbound hair somehow having wrapped around one of his forearms in their sleep, pinning him to her and her to him.

He was in that state between awake and asleep. Having her there had been a great comfort with the events of the last few days. A comfort he sorely needed. There was a bit of a rumble as he murmured, "(vq) Morning."

She buried her face in his crimson hair and breathed in his scent, her stretch becoming more sensual as she practically moaned at how sinfully good he felt. "Morning." And there was a light stroke of a giggle in the word.

There was a half grin on his lips at that stretch and her moves; maybe a little hope there. He was glad for the privacy of their wing. "(vq) You are in a good mood. Sleep well?"

"With you. I can't seem to do anything else." And it was a light mockery of herself. Tangling one hand in the crimson hair and using it almost as a gentle rein to pull herself atop his broad chest where she dangled above the bed slightly. "You?"

There was a bit of shifting to bring the untangled arm over to hold her securely there. "(vq) Yeah, like a rock." The crimson and gold seemed to mingle and mix on the sheets.

"Damien." And suddenly it seemed the right time to tell him. To ask him to do the unthinkable. To find a way free from her darkness. "Do you think... I mean, do you..." Her throat closed around the uncomfortable lump. "Do you... like me?" And she winced at such an inane question of all the ones she could ask.

He arched a brow at that, "We wouldn't be tangled like this if I didn't, Vliss." The voice dipped into a growly purr, "If you mean more than like... maybe even..." He trailed off a bit; there was that edge of well hope there.

"Damien, I..." She took a deep breath that moved her against him as she sought the words that threatened to stay buried. "I'm not normal. If we, I mean, my kind. We're a spiritual race and..." How awkward, a conversation she'd never had to have because she'd never before understood the implications of it, on a final rushed breath. "I mate for life. I mean if we, you... me... it would be permanent." Though at the current pressure of his body against hers the idea seemed to have definite merit.

That untangled arm was moved steadily along her back as he took in those words. Big decision there, but it was not sending him running and screaming either. He certainly didn't mind this closeness at all. "Question is, do you want to be tied to a half-breed demon like me, Vliss?"

"Who wouldn't?" She laughed a breathless sound of enjoyment at his searching hand, bracing a little more above him so that she could use those gold eyes to peer down at him more fully. "I don't know what's wrong with the women around these parts Damien that you're not already taken." And she meant it. He was strong, good-looking, supportive, and downright delicious, it seemed wrong to dump all of her problems on his shoulders no matter how broad they might be. A hesitation had her stiffening.

That hand did not stop, "Big brother syndrome." He quipped a bit, trying to sooth that little hesitation. Well, half-quipped. "I have baggage, but don't tell Angel I said that."

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-29 23:23 EST
... This Kiss

She laughed, she couldn't help it, his humor was just the thing needed to relax her again, well that and his soothing hand that was having interesting effects on her body. "Damien, you think you have baggage..." Her laughter stilled in her throat as she found herself gazing at that smiling mouth. "It would be so wrong of me to share mine. I couldn't ask you to carry it too."

There was a look at her, "Only wrong if I wasn't willing to share that load, Vliss." Having her lying there was having interesting effects on him too.

She had lost track of their very serious conversation. She needed to focus, to make sure she was making sense and to make him aware of what she was really asking. There were so many nuances to her problems and Damien didn't deserve any of them, but even as her rational mind explained this over and over again, she found herself leaning into him, her face descending in slow degrees as her breath whispered over his lips, her mouth finding his in the gentlest of butterfly kisses.

There was a sound groan at that. It was something he had been longing for. The lips gently met hers. The hand stilled on the center of her back to hold her tenderly.

His groan froze her for a moment, her gentled lips still touching his as her breath whispered to mingle with his. But as his grasp remained tender and gentle she tentatively tasted him, the pressure increasing as she suddenly hungrily squirmed closer. Somewhere a voice squeaked in protest, internally castigating herself for kissing Damien, for possibly ruining things with the most secure rock she had, but she couldn't listen to it right now, not when he felt so incredible.

The lips part almost breathing her in as the kiss was returned. Part of him was hopeful, part of him was fearful. He murmured softly, "Vliss."

Her name on his lips brought some semblance of control back, after all she was Vliss, damaged and destroyed, and she took a shuddering breath, breaking the hold of their lips to lean back and whisper in growing mortification, "I'm sorry Damien, I shouldn't have done that."

He took a ragged breath and the hope receding with her words, "Why, Vliss?" He looked up into her eyes.

"Is it fair to you?" Softly, unable to pull herself from him. "I mean, do you... could you possibly want to tie yourself to me and my problems?" It was hope that had her breath coming quickly... well that and other things.

The tangled arm carefully move to caress a soft cheek. Care not to pull on the strands wrapped there. "Life is rarely fair, Vliss. I've learned that all too well." The fingers were light as they stroked, "Seems you could use a break too."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I make it harder on the one person who has consistently been there for me." And she pushed upward, meaning to sit up but somehow finding herself sitting atop him, a slight gasp at the change, golden eyes glowing.

He leaned back on his arms to look up at her, "I think you can tell how hard it has been, Vliss." One part quip there. "It has to be your choice. I do want to be with you. If that means sharing your problems, the benefits outweigh the negatives in my eyes."

And she believed him. And her sigh was sweet as she descended back toward those delicious lips.

===============================================

The morning flew by punctuated by gentle kisses, soft sighs and tender touches. The young demon allowed her to explore and touch as she would. He returned those kisses, those touches, almost worshiping her. So many times they neared that line only to stop and draw back.

Only the call of nature would drive him from her arms. When he returned, he found her resting so peacefully. With a smile, he wrapped himself around her. He knew that she was able to sleep without her nightmares plaguing her like this.

Gentle fingers caress that soft cheek as he murmured softly. "(vq) I can't imagine you not in my life, Vliss."

(Thanks for the play, hun!)

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-01-30 11:35 EST
Serenity's Secrets

Her feet sank in the loam and she felt a lifting of her spirits. Visiting Praysin always brought a sense of peace to her troubled soul. As an earth spirit she found being surrounded by Vesper's dark forest to be unsettling and rarely stepped foot outside anymore.

The small forest that had become her bedroom was starting to feel mildly claustrophobic.

"Mistress Praysin?" She called as she slipped through the trees, a soft glow illuminating the golden hue of her skin and her pointed ears tilted to hear another's approach.

She nimbly moved over limb and rock as the canopy overhead enveloped her and drew her into the womb of nature.

There were animals here and she could hear their soft sounds beckoning her. A rare smile grew and she came to a quivering standstill as a doe moved out from the trees before her. Trilling sweetly, a small trio of birds flew around her and the deer and Vliss felt the pressure in her chest easing.

Gliding downward, the diaphanous robe she wore puddled on the rich earth and served as a blanket as she settled back. Lifting her face skyward she breathed deep.

A simple thought had her smiling, I only feel this good when I'm in Damien's arms.

Her golden eyes flared wide as the realization struck her and her lips moved of their own accord, voicing here within this private sanctuary her innermost secret, "I'm in love with Damien Tanner."

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-01-30 13:00 EST
Family talk...

It had to be done...

Before he gave voice to his decision, he had to get the familial responsibilities out of the way. His parents would have a cat if he sprung the whole "I have a lifemate" on them without talking to them first.

Or at least his mother...

It was for that reason he found himself at her office. He raised his hand to knock when he heard the beloved voice call out from inside. "Enter, Damien."

He still hated when she did that, but this was his mother. He loved her very dearly. There had been whispers around the campus of how some of the students had a crush on her. Him, he wanted the type of relationship his parents still had.

There was a smile on those ageless features as she greeted him in the privacy of her domain. "You are looking well, dearling." The sound of that voice always brought a feeling of warmth to him.

"Thank you, mother. You are looking radiant as ever." There was that compliment that always range true even though she scoffed at it.

There was a shake of her head, "You have something on your mind?" She knew how to read people, especially her children.

"I need to ... get your blessing." He started quietly. "I think I found my ... heart."

That was certainly a surprise, even though she had heard the whispers. "Are you sure, Damien?"It was surprising to know that her youngest was becoming a man now.

Was he so sure? "I am. I know I love her." The first step was admitting it. "I... wanted to talk to you first. If I... join with her, the magic of her people will have us mated... forever." His voice was steady despite of how nervous he was.

"This is a big decision." She looked at him critically, "I can see you are not rushing into this. I have heard rumors... V'liss'andra Arcanum?"

It shouldn't surprise him that she knew. "Yes, mother."

There was that sad smile, "You are growing up too fast, Damien. That worries me. But, I am proud of the man you have become. I will speak to Lucius about the next gathering. It would be unseemly if your mate is not there."

In that short sentence, he had his answer...

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-01-30 15:50 EST
The last few days had been interesting, that was for sure.

Blizz made his way from Zhennavieve LaCroix's Illusion class with his bag slung over one rather sturdy shoulder, his Novitiate uniform loosely donned as though testing the limits of acceptance. He didn't like the cloak, didn't like things fastened about his neck, but he kept it there out of requirement. The tunic was buttoned haphazardly and the sleeves were scrunched up to his elbow. It was just stuffy, sort of, and he didn't like the way it felt.

He walked through the halls and soon found that he was joined in his stride by a visitor, the scruffy mop-top of Kish buoyantly bouncing beside him as large blue eyes looked up with bewilderment at Blizzard's bizarre lavender gaze.

Blizz questioned the look for a moment but the realized where this fascination stemmed from. He smirked as he took a corner, Kish matching his step. "So..." Blizzard said casually. "...hear about Xera?"

"I've heard that she's been spending an awful lot of time with you and Ozzie." He clucked his tongue in feigned contemplation. "Oh, and I also saw you and her making out pretty heavily before Smout'n's class this morning, so yea...there was that."

Blizzard took another corner and arched a brow, returning the manufactured consideration. "Say it ain't so? How strange is that?" He smirked then. "Jealous?"

Kish stopped, a hand taking Blizzard by the arm. As his smallish fingers enclosed around the swollen bicep of the Novice Abjurer there was a sense of clarity that lit in Kish's enormous eyes. Blizzard really was strong. Luckily, Blizzard did not resist the touch and turned to face the young genius. "Yea?"

"You know she's like super worried about the whole virginity thing, right?"
Blizzard did know, his befuddlement came from Kish's knowledge of it. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because she's an Azer, and they are very procedurally when it comes to giving that little treasure away." He beamed a smile. "I read it-"

"-in a book." Blizz said with a nod, it was becoming the young Evokers mantra. "Yea, I know. We're taking it slow. There really isn't much pressure on either side. Me and Ozzie are on a ride and Xera's trying to figure out if she wants to hop on." He laughed. "It's not a big deal."

"Maybe not for you." Kish's tone dropped to a near cryptic harmonic. "Just be careful, muscles. I ain't jealous, but that doesn't mean that everyone likes the idea of it."

Blizzard's entire expression changed as he listened, the amusement that stained his features shifting into something a bit more serious. "Wait, what do you know, Kish?"

He looked around almost nervously, lips tight and swallowing hard. "What all languages do you speak?"

"Um, this one."

Kish sighed. He really wanted to tell Blizzard but knew that there were creatures who attended the school who could hear their names said from miles away and could listen to conversations through walls and walls of thick stone. He stepped forward and tilted his head up so that he could quietly speak, unconcerned that anyone walking by would be able to easily see they were sharing a secret. He wasn't willing to speak above a whisper. "I was in the library and heard a few guys from Viperfang talking. Grail and Felix. Seems they think your little threesome might be fun to mess with. I guess that Felix guy really has a thing for Xera."

Blizzard was so caught up in his studies and trying to keep pace with his own House, Stormsabre, that he didn't really know much about any of the other houses. Satyrkiss, Gorgonhorn and, of course, Viperfang were the only ones that he could recall, though knew there were plenty more. He looked at Kish and could see that he was worried, and after he explained Blizzard shook his head and dropped his hand to the Evoker's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about that. Let'em plot, right? If they wanna dance I've got the tango." He chuckled and punched his fist into his hand, theatrical and funny, even if the impact sounded brutal.

Kish jumped with the punch and laughed. "I know, right? I don't even know why I'm worried." He shrugged. "Alright, well I gotta get down to the Infirmary. Saph's waiting."

Blizzard nodded. "How's she doing?"

There was a momentary panic as Kish wasn't sure how much Saphira wanted him to say, so he took a few steps and flashed that youthful smile. "She'll be back on all fours baying at the moon in no time!" He winked and spun, dashing off.

Blizzard watched him go and then turned, starting up the stairs that led to Mistress Tanner's shadow evocation class.

Grail and Felix.

He'd remember that.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-01-30 16:54 EST
A measure of freedom

Mistress Evahlys had finally cleared her to return to her own dorm. Despite her ability to heal, the infirmary mistress had wanted to be certain before releasing her charge. Kish was with her as promised when Evahlys approached then looking a little less stern than usual. "How are we feeling today, Novitiate Saphira?" She'd asked a bit more businesslike than warmly. she liked the girl, but she tended to address business as business and this was just that. Saphira looked up shifting in her bed. "Ready to go. Don't get me wrong I think you've been great but I'm tired of laying around And want to get back to class."

Evahlys nodded, a twinkle of approval in her eyes, she might even have hinted at a smile. Almost. "Excellent. Kish. I expect you to keep your word and keep an eye on her. Do not allow her to over exert herself for a while."
Kish nodded. "Yeah I won't. You hear that Saph? I gotta make sure you're bored." He gave her an easy smile and winked. Kish was anything but boring and Saphira knew she'd have very little issue with him tagging along for a few days. She sighed in mock woe. "If you must.." Her little theatrical display elicited a grin for him.

"Don't worry it won't be too bad. I'll help you get caught up in Mistress Lyricstar's class and ...what else are you taking? Actually never mind. It doesn't matter what it is, I'm pretty sure we got this." That confident smirk setting in. Everyone knew Kish was brilliant, and what was worse, he knew it too. "Besides, you still owe me a study session if I recall. You were going to show me what you can do with ice."

Evahlys had wandered unnoticed away to attend her other patients and tidy up as the pair talked. Saphira slid out of the bed gratefully and stretched. "I had forgotten I promised, didn't I?" Gathering up the few belongings she had. She picked up the bear and the rose tucking the bear under her arm. "It would be nice to practice a bit anyhow."
Kish grinned. "Good. oh yeah I saw Blizz the other day he was asking about you. I..wasn't certain how much you wanted known so I told him you were doing better, but I didn't tell him about.." His eyes flicked down to her abdomen before rising back to her face. "You know, the baby."

Saphira nodded. "Thanks." Quietly. "Kish, I.." She blinked back a sudden surge of tears and set her things down on the bed suddenly and threw her arms around him. "You've been such a good friend..." She whispered against his cheek. He returned her embrace warmly. "C'mon Saph it's not like it was any real trouble. Besides you're not exactly bad company" His tone was reassuring and light as he smoothed her hair. He pulled back a little. "Come on." Gently "Lets see that smile, Hm? I know you have one in there.." And with that his fingers found her ribs and he tickled her a little. She couldn't help but squirm and shriek a laugh. "Ah! see there it is!"

Saphira picked her things back up, still smiling. "Thanks, Kish. I want to find Mystri, too. I'm really worried about her after all this. I'm afraid I might have hurt her or worse." Kish nodded. "We will. Lets get your stuff to your room and get you settled back in and we'll go look for her." Saphira nodded. "Alright." And with that they started off to the room Saph shared with Moir and then hopefully to find Mystri.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-02-01 07:24 EST
Slender fingers traced the outer edge of the stone-wrought sarcophagus, its devastating weight easily felt even with the small caress. With his thick mane of fiery red hair drawn back into a tight ponytail Albion moved around the rocky husk in silent examination of the arcane sigils that littered its smooth marble facade. A simple spell kept the symbols that he had already deciphered glowing a gentle blue, the ones that still needed discovery uninspired by the magical luminous. More than two dozen had been decoded and only five were left. He was so close.

It was easy to understand why it was taking so long to unravel the mystery of the tomb - at least, that's what he thought it was - as the hours of his day were filled to the brim with challenges and events. It was a strange transition for him seeing as how just six months prior the majority of his days consisted of going to classes, studying for classes, and trying to expand on classes. In a blink it seemed that he was now navigating his way through a schedule fashioned of obstacles and endeavors, not that he necessarily minded, as keeping himself busy was always enjoyable.

He hadn't seen Mystriana in days and was really starting to wonder if that wasn't coincidental as much as it was contrived. Maybe she was avoiding him. Maybe she didn't want to see him, after all, he hadn't offered much help in the dilemma that weighed so heavily on her slender shoulders, and in most cases seemed to make it worse. He knew it wasn't easy for her and yet couldn't seem to get out of her way.

He had visited Saphira in the Infirmary and he was shocked to hear that not only had she been raped by the Denubae, but that she was now carrying its child. The entire idea was horrific and he tried to be as reasonable and sympathetic as possible, though when she suggested that the events had been orchestrated and that Quillyan knew something about it his ire, though muddled, was obvious. He was not one for hearsay, especially when it condemned one that he cared for so deeply. Saphira was doing better, mostly due to Kish, and Albion made it a point of returning regularly to check up on her.

The new Xera had caught him off-guard, though it seemed that the uncertain personality traits of the Azer had faded away to be replaced by a much more smoldering version. It seemed that Blizzard and Ozalynne were answering every question she could come up with regarding her body and the rush of emotions that she felt in regards to intimate encounters; and it also seemed that this lesson was more of a show n' tell than a read from the book sort of thing. Still, he was happy for her. He knew that she struggled with certain aspects of her racial heritage, and the fact that she was finding acceptance and able to put her soul at ease was enough to make him rejoice for her.

And then there was Quilly. Maddening, really, that he could spend night after night so eagerly immersed in her, interwoven limbs and bodies reaching the height of rapture in seemingly infinite postures and poses, and yet still he felt like he just wasn't getting enough time. He wanted to explore her, to unravel the intricate layers that created the willowy girl who occupied his thoughts and bed, but often found the assiduous labor of his class schedule and extra-curricular activities stealing the small ounces of occasion left available to him. He knew that she spent time with her Novitiate study group, and envied them for it.

Albion cleaned up the room where he kept the tomb hidden, buried inside the bowels of the conjuration ward with the rest of the artifacts and relics, and exited the chamber by locking the door with the spell designated by Mos'em . The Master of Conjuration often used Albion as his student proctor, which had several perks associated with it. Passwords were one of them.

As he started away he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes, yet when he turned to look there was nothing at hand save for the looming shadow of the subsurface levels. Small balls of magical luminance mottled the grid-work architecture of the lower basements, casting a heavy gout of umbral shade all about the corridors.

His pulse quickened, a silent incantation veiling his eyes in darkvision, allowing him to penetrate the darkness as though it were lit adequately.

There was nothing there.

Albion's thoughts were suddenly flooded with memories of the night he was attacked in the Market Place. The night they took back the dagger. He still didn't know who they were, and in fact his impromptu investigation into who had coordinated such an attack had stalled with everything going on. He feared that with the amount of time that had passed he would never find out who had done it. Who had attacked him.

So many directions and yet only one of him. Where was he to go?

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-02-01 11:12 EST
Blooms Wilt (Part 1)

The problem with manipulation is that it takes a skillful hand to cultivate people and a natural ruthlessness that the delicate sorceress had yet to fully learn. Uziya had warmed to her plan to aggravate the usually unflappable Marius Mistmark. Too intelligent to not catch on he'd demanded answers and Fleur had haltingly provided them, surprised to discover that Uziya was more than willing to assist her in her ploys.

Their enacted intimacy soon bloomed into a comforting level of closeness.

The tall and slender Uziya was waiting for her in his usual seat when she arrived and she went to him as if they were lovers. It had been enough to irritate Mistmark and she had been shocked at how easy it had become to pretend. Their kisses were always brief but warm and his hand twining with hers there in that lonely classroom had become something she looked forward to.

What had begun as a game had transformed into something else entirely.

She found herself sharing things with Uziya: discussing Brais and Tiatari was uplifting in a way - to have discovered someone who understood what it was like to be entwined with someone so intensely ambitious.

Sent for components from the lab she and Uziya had forgotten all about Mistmark so intent on their own discussion, "So wait, you know that she sleeps with another?"

Uziya's laugh was smooth and softly mocking though the direction of the censor seemed inwardly aimed, "Tiatari sees no reason to deny a connection with someone who could further her own gains. It's the way she is." The look of horror on Fleur's soft features had him laughing more genuinely and he couldn't resist adding, "If the Mastema himself came down from his tower to take her hand, my lovely girlfriend would assuredly go wherever he beckoned."

Fleur couldn't tell if the words pained him, Uziya's easy charm deflecting any penetration of her gaze and she shook her head instead, "I couldn't imagine. Faithfulness is...I mean to say, I refuse to be the other woman." A flash of pain at the memory that refused to stay buried, "I don't see how you-"

"Really? That's surprising after Vliss."

She startled and gave him a lighthearted shove, "I know what we did there was wrong, Uziya, and I've apologized for trying to have any hand in causing you and Tiatari hardship. But Vliss and Brais are over so--"

"Over?" He laughed and there was a hint of that strong emotion again, "It can't just be over. Vliss doesn't work like that."

She frowned as the conversation had taken an odd twist, "What do you mean?"

"You mean no one's told you," The twist of those sensuous lips revealed that Fleur was decidedly in the dark and not appreciating the stalling, Uziya hurried to explain, "Vliss is an Earth Spirit, Fleur. She mates. Like on a spiritual-magical level. She and Brais are together."

"That doesn't even make any sense, Uziya. She's with Damien. Anybody who sees them together can tell she adores him and-"

"And that works right up to the point of," He made a face and waved his hand in elaboration.

"Wait. What? But what about you? I mean you two were together before she and Brais."

"And she died." Uziya managed to remain enigmatic even in that simple statement but Fleur had gotten to know him well enough now to recognize the signs that there was a wealth of emotion beneath the words, "And our bond broke. And she formed the bond with Brais."

"That's--"

Marius Mistmark appeared in the doorway, his demandingly handsome face exhibiting the amused censorship he used when drawing misguided students back to task, "Might I inquire as to what is taking so long?"

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-02-01 11:13 EST
Blooms Wilt (Part 2)

Caught up in Uziya's revelations Fleur foolishly left her books behind. She hesitated, worried to be alone with Mistmark, but surely he'd gone by now? With a soft sigh of exasperation she returned to the classroom and hurried inside to re-gather her things pleased to note that she was alone.

As she turned to depart she held a stricken breath at the sight of Marius Mistmark leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, "Miss Rousseau."

She tensed and sought to sound normal, "Master Mistmark."

"It seems you've misplaced your study partner." He pushed up from the doorway and moved toward her, "Or your...partner?" The question lingered lightly though the gleam in his eyes proved his mockery. He'd not fallen for her little ruse and had in fact found her attempts to stir him deeply amusing.

"Uziya had to-"

"Uziya had to return to his girlfriend. Fleur." He petted her name, "though I found your attempts to appear 'his' quite charming."

She trembled and lifted her eyes toward him, carefully expressionless, except for the quivering lower lip that betrayed her. The sensual fullness a richly vivid plum as she protested, "Brais is waiting for me."

"Ahh, yes, the boyfriend." He licked his lips as he watched that mouth tremble beset by memories of passion and play. "The boyfriend bonded to another. My, my... My Fleur, you can't seem to pick a man who isn't already taken."

She shook as if struck, pain blooming deep as she pushed past him for freedom from his too knowing eyes. His hand found her wrist and stilled her flight though she refused to turn around and face him. Leaning in to whisper softly, "Fleur, my sweet flower, I miss you." And as she jolted with reaction he slid his hand free and let her flee.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-02-01 11:14 EST
Blooms Wilt, Part 3

By the time she arrived at their dorm room she was quivering with emotion. Furiously angry with her own reaction she had transferred all of it toward her lover. The man who had promised never to betray her, who had sought her with a single-minded ambition that had allowed her no recourse but to surrender. And who had never mentioned his bond to another woman.

As the door opened she found him cooking. And this to, became an insult. How dare he continue to be so domestic, so sweetly caring, so righteously set upon their connection, while hiding so much from her?

Brais turned toward her and as his gorgeous face filled her vision it sent her tumbling into recklessness. It wasn't the anger that drove her hand, but the hurt.

CRACK!

The palm of her hand connected with his face and she knew within that split second of time that it was the worse decision she had ever made. His eyes, cold and vicious, narrowed and he held perfectly still, not even a breath to mar his control, "Explain yourself."

She trembled and her voice was unrecognizable to her as she whispered, "Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me about Vliss? About the bond?" She turned to flee and found herself grabbed for the second time that night, though there was no gentleness in this grasp as he spun her back toward him, sending her stumbling into his chest.

"I've told you everything." He hissed. "You are the only woman for me Fleur. Vliss's issue is her own."

Tears welled as her lips compressed and tore apart to intone her agony, "How could you let me be the other woman again?"

And it was a dark ugly rage that emerged within the gaze of her lover, "I am not him. Fleur. I am not with Vliss. I am with you. And You are Mine." He shook her then, "Say it."

She struggled and as the pain blossomed in her arm where he held her she lifted her hand to strike out at him again.

His hand lashed out like a viper's to close around her throat and lift her back, slamming her against the wall of their kitchen. "You will never strike me again."

She gasped, shock replacing her anger, pain weaving with fear, "B-Brais, you're hurting me."

"You will never strike me again."

She nodded as the pressure on her throat stole the breath from her lungs, the movement a trapped and awkward one. "Never again, Brais. Please. Stop." Her fingers tangled with the fist upon her throat, his clenching grasp implacable.

"I love you Fleur. And only you." His gaze softened as his hand did not, pinned there before him, "You love me as I love you."

The grip on her throat seemed to increase, she felt the desperate need for breath overwhelming her, "Brais please, I can't breathe."

"Say it Fleur. Say you love me."

She couldn't. She had no breath left to give him what he demanded. And she slipped into an unconsciousness that held no answers.

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-02-01 16:30 EST


When the slap first struck he had been holding a skillet in one hand and a spatula in the other, but that was not the reason Brais Galician was defenseless against the strike launched by Fleur. No, he did not defend against the slap because just days prior he had determined that Fleur would never be a threat to him, never put him in such peril, and thus never be the reason to keep those engraved defenses prepared when she was near.

She...was safe.

She had struck him across the face. Without a single word she stepped through the door and let it close behind her, walked to the kitchen where he stood with dinner nearly ready, and slapped him. Hard.

When it happened he was hurled instantly into a maelstrom of disbelief that left him standing there for a moment just staring at her. There was one part of him that couldn't believe Fleur would ever strike him, no matter the cause. But more than that, he couldn't believe that he had convinced himself to lower those defenses - defenses he had spent a lifetime building - under the assumption that she would never hurt him.

It brought back words that his father had spoken to him when he was very young.

Akuma wa, subete no fōmu, Brais ni kuru. Tokuni anata ga utagawa reru koto wa nai koto o kakunin shimasu.


~Demons come in every form, Brais. Especially those that you would never suspect.~

His eyes narrowed and the emotion washed from his face.

She tried to accuse him of hiding things, of keeping them from her, and then sought to flee, but he wouldn't have it. He took her by the hand, concern for her safety dissipated, and spun her back around. There, against his chest, he coldly refuted her claim and reiterated his love for her.

And also her love for him.

She was upset and scared, and when he shook her, determined to hear her say those words, she drew back again to strike him.

He uncoiled, lashing out with a hand able to kill in a moment, and slammed her against the wall by her throat. He loved her with every fiber of his being, but Brais Galician was no one's whipping boy.

Again he commanded her to say it and she refused, the airway between lips and lungs squeezed nearly closed. She begged him to stop and he demanded that she sing her praise for their love, even to the point where she fell unconscious.

He held her there, pinned to the wall, her limbs lifeless and swaying. He could have certainly killed her right there as she lolled against the clamp of his hand, but instead he decided that she simply needed rest. As the anger that burned in his eyes began to dwindle he cradled her in his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her upon it to strip her of her clothing. He did so lovingly, careful not to tear a button or snag her hose, and once completed he followed suit. Crawling beneath the sheets where he had tucked her in, he held her against his chest and stroked the beautiful flaxen hair that spilled all about them.

Hours later she awoke and he was there. He dipped his lips to claim a kiss, and when she pulled away he hooked her beneath the chin and forced her eyes upward. He looked at her, the predatory stare fervent and harsh, and once again recited their love.

With a quiet voice she confirmed it.

He kissed her and she allowed it, though with lips pursed together in tight acceptance. She exhaled when he withdrew and rolled over, taking one of his arms with her to curl within. She pressed into the hard facade of his chest, her normally supple back stiff as a board. Her throat hurt, and so did her soul.

A heat pulsated from his naked flesh as he pressed against her, the encouraging sway of his hips revealing the clarity of his desire. He kissed her neck, the sides of it, and when she swallowed she felt the tender pain along her throat from where he had grabbed her. She did nothing to refute him, and in fact slid her hips backwards as her legs fell apart in compliance with his suggestive urging.

She mewled and whimper as he split her flesh open, reaching back to grab his bare hip and pull him deep inside, even as tears welled her eyes. Together they were one, though she knew that would be only momentary, and there would obstacles waiting once they were complete.

Brais clenched his teeth with the alluring feel of her body's surrender to his impaling demands, and as the lascivious thrusts began there was an added measure of strength to the normally fluid rhythm, determined to reimburse the pain she had delivered.

Both physically, and more.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-02 10:45 EST
Truth will out

Kish had brought her to Teas 'n Tomes to help her look for a book on lycan gestational cycles and lo and behold but who should be there already? Quilly. The book had been forgotten instantly and Saphira had approached quietly, eyes cold. Kish sensed the tension but didn't know what was really going on between the two. It had started in low tones. Neither girl had raised their voice, neither had shouted.

But Quillyan seemed convinced Saphira had deserved her fate. Was convinced she had done something to have deserved her entire life of having been tortured caged, mocked and tormented. Saphira could not understand why the girl hated her so much. Eventually Saphira's hurt and anger won out, and her eyes went dark, changing to a lightless black. The fog that swirled around her body flickered and ignited in a flame that did not truly burn.

Quilly had not been impressed. Saphira's voice changed as she spoke again. "You know, Quillyan, that when you lie I can smell it on you as surely as the stench of that bitch Jolie. We have done nothing and yet you seem convinced we deserved our fate, yes, pretty perhaps you should like to know what it's like, learn the truth? We should show her yes." She had sent her blazing mist to encompass Quilly and and instilled in her all the memories of her own past, right up to Jolie revealing to her how she had manipulated Quilly Right before she'd tried to kill Saphira.

Kish was standing and watching all this. "Hey stop, you two need to quit this isn't the place or the time." Both girls ignored him though. : The tea falls from her hands, liquid splashing, cup shattering. After a couple of seconds of furious fervor, Quilly deflected the
fog, the various voices of Saphira's memory melding into some horrid cacophony. Shaking, shuddering, her eyes peering wildly from beyond the unsettled ruby tresses, she stares at Saphira. "Never. Never invade my mind again." Angrier now, raw from the forced emotion. "You are weak, despite your power."

It became clear to her then Quilly was as cold and heartless as Jolie.
The fog wrapped back around herself, and to her it was a comfort. That strange voice practically purred. "Oh poor pretty, do we
not like feeling what others feel? do we not care for having a little humanity? Of course it's much easier to just turn that pretty chin and overlook everything but your desires isn't it?"


Quillian grew angrier : An enraged growl deepeing the bell-like tones of her voice. "You are nothing but an animal. Working on instinct, emotion,
and...I don't know, lust, probably." She stumbles, and it is telling. Kish just had no idea what to do. He couldn't stay angry, not with all these distractions. But he couldn't keep still
either. Pregnant woman to keep safe, and all that.



Can you give us a reason for your hate?" Then she laughed. "You are stretching, and it shows...Weak is one who attacks
without cause, who allows evil done without first confirming if it is truly deserved..weak is you." There was a cold ring to her words


But Quilly seemed to have an answer even if it only satisfied herself. : "Your argument is absurd and irrational," knowing she would never win a contest of force, she instead attempts one of will
and rhetoric, "for I have never - never - attacked you. : "It is always you, Saphira. You killing, you lusting after the wrong people, you getting punished, you inviting calamity into
your life."



"Is it not as bad to allow a conspiracy of rape to go on? Would one who helped to plan a murder later say 'I did not
pull the trigger' And be allowed to go free? Oh no pretty you are guilty."

"We lust for none. You in your jealousy have become blinded"

Kish was growing more upset. It bubbled. It frothed. And eventually, it had to go somewhere. "I said stop!" Frost tinging his breath, his voice trembling. "Just ... just stop!"


She turned slowly on Kish and those dark eyes he would know were not Saphira's. "Ah yes....our hero, as it were. Saphira's
little knight in glacial armor..." Turning back to Quilly. "When you yourself spoke the words 'So the plan worked' You gave yourself away. you
knew. and We have told your lover."

"Oh, so you've assumed a conspiracy based on a single cryptic statement that I supposedly uttered when you were raving
mad. Was this..." She pauses, bringing a finger to her lips as if considering, "...before, or after you ripped the head off the bunny and tried to spray me with the blood?" Having shaken off the remaining horror of Saphira's memories, it almost seems like she's enjoying this - her azure eyes shine as if illuminated by some certain brilliance. She even tosses the faintest little smile in Kish's direction. "Madness is, by nature, not a friend of reason. And to place me in a conspiracy, you need... "What...?" Goading her. "Oh, that's right. Reason." She looked at Kish. "Kish, remember this. We'll be reporting it later."

:

The temperature plummeted, as hoarfrost dusted Kish's hair. If they wouldn't listen, then he'd damn well do something
to put a stop to this. "Reporting what? You need to extricate the stick from your tiny little behind, and Saphira, you need to reign it in, now! Think of the baby!"



Ah well reason. It would stand to reason every time you reek of a lie it is because you lie." She seemed to get a boost from the
sudden drop in temperature and those black eyes pulsed. "Perhaps we should remedy that...." She looked to Kish. "You would do well to learn
my name, oh one of Saphira's esteem..."
Kish was a little taken aback by the strange way she spoke but was certain he'd figured it out. "I'm not talking to you. Saphira! I know you can hear me... clamp it down!"

Quilly was laughing now, settling her tired little form back into that plush chair. "Oh, you win. Vesper did tell me about her plans."
"But she also told me that the she was forbidden from allowing the magiceater to harm students. Therefore, it would stand to reason..."
A charmingly, guiltless smile, "That if any harm came to you, the administration surely knew about it. And didn't think it was worth preventing."

Oh, that was it. "Dammit, both of you, enough! Quillyan, you're drowning in smug bitchiness, and Saph, if you don't
untuck yourself away, then we'll just have to see what Mistress Evahlys has to say."
Quilly never batted a lash "Oh Kish, you know Saph deserves it, with all of these threats and trying to force me to feel her rape."
"Oh, and you don't think you deserve a thing, I bet? You with your "oh poor me, what could I do?" To the hells with that,
you could've stepped up, said something, done something... so don't sit there and pretend like you're all pristine and snowy." He retorted.

"So I, a mere novice, should marched up to the faculty and the administration and told them that they were in the wrong."
Those long legs cross again, but her expression remains gloomy. "Albion is a person of reason. But go tell him. Whine and whimper and tell
him how wrong I am. Maybe he'll break up with me, and then you can finally have your chance." Noting Kish's surprised expression, she offers: "Sorry, Kish."

: She laughed. "Are you so foolish then? So very insecure? Do you not know Saphira harbors feelings for Kish and none other?
You are more stupid than even I thought"
If Quilly thought Kish was surprised before...

Growing exhausted with defending herself against these threats and claims, "Saphira, you've met Vesper. She's insane.
The fact I didn't give a damn about her plans wasn't out of menace against you. She bit a bird's head off in front of my face."
"Why did you not warn her?" "She's insane!" "Insane enough to actually do something?" Quilly was getting fed up. Her voice rising in frustration, "Stop speaking in third person!" She didn't realize.
"Third...oh...you don't realize..?" She laughed again a cold thing, a mockery of what joy could be. "I am not your little wolf-girl. I
am the one borne of agony, injustice and dispair. I am Zenobia"
: With a flat and level gaze upon the wolf-girl. "That's f*cking crazy."
Looking to Kish, "I tried."

He looked disgusted. : "Tried. You... you have no idea what trying is." Shaking his head, and letting the frost thaw, Kish turned and stumbled
outside for some air.

Quilly's voice was flat. : "I not terribly concerned with the effects of trauma. Get yourself together."

She turned and moved toward the door. "We are. it is *you* We would worry about." And then this second personality slowly
withdrew leaving Saphira who was stumbling through the door after Kish

A quiet mutter, eyes falling to the closed book on her lap, "If that's together..."

(Thanks to Quilly for the scene and to Esteban for playing Kish! You guys rock!)

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-02 16:43 EST
Nightmares

She whimpered softly in her sleep, tossing roughly mumbling unintelligibly.
Quilly's face danced before her "You deserved it. You're an animal" Everything shifted. The Denubae...the pit...the agony. Another Shift and she saw Albion. "We need to extract it..it's a monster"

She sat up in a cold sweat and screamed. Suddenly she found herself wrapped in arms she tried to fight off, didn't recognize until the owner spoke. "Shh..shh Saph! Shhh it's okay I'm here... C'mon Saph calm down." It was Kish who held her comfortingly as she struggled against him. As she realized where she was she slumped against him and shuddered. "Kish.." She'd asked him to stay because of the nightmares and he was comforting.

"Shh now it's alright it's just a dream.." He reassured her while smoothing her hair back. "I'm here and I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Kish..?" She asked softly. "Yes?" "Do you think...do you think I deserved it? Everything that ever happened? Am I a monster?" He pulled gently away and tilted her chin up so she was looking him in the eye. "No. Never. You are the sweetest, kindest girl I have ever known. You guarded Albion for fear he would be attacked again, you are bonded with Mystri who's okay after you get past the pissy attitude. And let me tell you something. You are not a monster." He smiled gently.

"You are beautiful, sweet and smart. And you can do amazing things with the elements. And I would not hang around a monster." He pulled her back to his chest and she gladly leaned against him, listening to his heartbeat. "I just don't understand why she hates me so much..I never did anything to anybody.." "Some people don't need reasons other than fearing what they can't understand. Listen. Quilly may have her bitchy attitudinal moments but Albion loves her so she can't be all that bad. she has her good points, too. I can't say I approve of this last stunt at all and frankly I'm very upset she could be so heartless to say those things, but she's wrong about you, Saphira."

Her murmured her full name to her sweetly as he held her close, stroking her hair. "I don't care what Quilly says about you she's wrong. If she knew you she wouldn't have ever said those things. It's her loss. Just stay away from her." He kissed the top of her head softly. "Don't worry about her, okay? When you feel bad about yourself remember me. Remember how much I care about you." He spoke softly, and tilted her face to his again, slowly he lowered his head and his lips claimed hers softly.

She hesitated a little at first, remembering how horrible the Denubae had been, but this was Kish...and she...cared deeply for him. He whispered sweetly against her lips. "Saphira.." She allowed herself to relax into his embrace, returning the kiss shyly at first though in time she was just as eager as he. He shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt and wrapped his arms around her. Feeling that soft fur on his bare chest sent a shiver of pleasure through him. "Saphira...You know I would never hurt you, right?" His voice was husky with his desire for her.

She looked at him with luminous eyes. "I know you wouldn't" Her voice was soft. "Good.." He lowered his head to claim her again in another kiss. Somehow he'd managed to remove his pants and had pulled her against him. She almost shied when she felt his desire pressing demandingly against her, but when he made no move she knew then for certain he was not going to harm her or force her. Gently he pressed her back into the tangle of blankets, cradling her as he kissed her reassuringly. She sighed softly and allowed herself to open herself to him, wonder in her eyes as he tenderly moved to make them one.

Long into the night he showed her what it should be, taking his time and awakening her to pleasure she had never known. He payed attention to every detail and it was many hours before they both finally slept wrapped within each others arms. She did not have another nightmare that night.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-02-02 21:03 EST
{Laurus Wing}

He was just returning to the wing after a night out. The note from Xera had been found. After the talk with Saphira, he had hung out on Twilight Island. He stuck around to watch Alyssa and Quillyan face off with Khoom and then escorted the ladies home.

After seeing that Kish was with Saphira, he made his way back to his wing. The shadows were the most expedient route, certainly allowed him to avoid Sartha. There was only one place he really wanted to be...

.. in her arms.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-03 11:53 EST
Blooded Ecstasy: Forging Bonds
Part 1

She screamed.

One minute she was in the throes of ecstasy. Her body liquid and rapturous as she writhed beneath the workings of the vampiress and the next she was bereft with a ripping of her flesh: The skin on her thigh torn asunder with the savage abruptness of the fang?s departure.

The movements were incomprehensible they were so fast and blurred bodies slammed about the dorm room with a violence that would?ve killed lesser beings. Cadence frantically sought to understand and it was only when she heard the familiar growl of her roommate that she gasped, ?Mystri No!?

The snap of fangs clacking together as a bite narrowly missed ripping out a throat was added to the cacophony of purling growls and breaking furniture. From one side of the room to the next the entwined bodies crashed as they fought for supremacy. The fluid movements of the shapeshifter counterbalancing the preternatural actions of the vampire.

?Mystri stop! Please!? Cadence tried again as her blood saturated the sheets of her bed. ?I asked her to do it!?

A horrific sound of a bone cracking brought an unearthly howl from the throat of the cat-hybrid as her arm was bent back, her claws springing free form where they had sunk inside Jolie?s flesh.

A twist, a torque, the whiplash of her agile athletic body flipped the blonde across the room and sent her slamming into the far wall to settle in a moment of stunned silence.

She flipped to her feet and prowled toward her, blood dripping from her maw and her arm already reforming, ?I?m going to rip those fangs out of your fucking mouth, leach, and wear them as a fucking necklace.?

Jolie drew her lips back from the fangs in question and hissed, ?And I?m going to report this attack to the HeadMistress.? She grinned, slowly, a purely malevolent beauty.

?I don?t give a shit.? Mystri tossed her head like an angry cat, her pink tipped platinum hair shifting about pink-tufted ears. It should?ve been cute, pretty even, but in that moment it was deathly threatening. The fear that gripped her stomach belied that statement though she gave no hint of it.

?Yes you do. Your precious little DogBitch owes me big and without you here??

Mystri?s sharp laugh cut off the threat before it had a chance, ?Jolie, Saph owned you. Everybody knows it. She?s got as much to fear from you as she does a summer?s cold.? Her eyes glittered menacingly as she watched the vampiress push herself up off the wall to find her feet.

The stench of burning flesh still burned her nose and Jolie fought to maintain her icy composure, ?She?s not the only one you care about Shifter.?

Mint blue eyes narrowed threateningly but before Mystri could add more Cadence slid between the two of them, a dangerously precarious position and she damn well knew it, ?Ladies, look, this is just a misunderstanding.? She turned frantic eyes from one to the other, ?Mystri, I invited Jolie here, and Jolie, Mystri just thought she was protecting me. We don?t need for this to get any uglier than it already has.? She was breathless in her attempts to salve the temperaments.

?No worries, Cadence. I was just leaving. I?m sure Headmistress Tanner will be very displeased to know that Mystriana still can?t control??

Her dulcet mockery was ended as Mystri?s form blurred past Cadence and took her by the throat, ?If I?m going to go down, bitch, I?m going to go down for ending you.?

?Stop!? Cadence threw herself against the petite shifter?s back and tried to pull that manacle free from its grip, ?Please Mystri, don?t do this!?

?Yes, Mystri think of poor Albion when he finds Quillyan after I?m through with her. And your precious little Saphira, how will she handle Kish?s loss?? The list was growing and with it Mystri felt a sinking horror at the amount of connections she?d formed, ?And Uziya is always up for a good time, we wouldn?t want any accidents to occur.?

?Jolie!? Cadence turned horrified chocolate brown eyes up at her and was immediately entranced.

Mystri sunk her claws into that slender throat, puncturing her flesh and drawing beads of blood as she leaned in closer, her maw widening to reveal the sharpened teeth.

The scream was a beautiful sound really. Purely melodic and thrumming harmonically as Cadence cried. Startled, Mystri whirled to find the bard on the floor of their room, a blade in her hands where she was even now slicing open her arm, dangerously close to the veins that held her lifesblood.

?Cadence, what in the hell are you doing?? Mystri dropped Jolie as she flung herself against the lush softness of her roommate and knocked the blade from her hands. She held the struggling and crying girl as gently yet forcibly as she could, her mint blue eyes round with horrified confusion.

The laugh was silky in its menace, ?I own her, Shapeshifter. So long as my blood remains in her system, she is my thrall. And with that I can make her do whatever I want. Whenever I want.?

Mystri lifted her eyes to behold the vision of Jolie floating toward them, ?Keep giving me reasons to end your life, leach.?

?Did you ever stop to think what your punishment would do to Saphira? Should Vesper get to take you to task for your rash actions,? She arched her throat to reveal the puncture marks that still oozed sluggishly, ?do you think Saphira would survive another of her little games acted out on you? What about your death?? She knelt before Mystri and crawled toward the two girls, her movements a sinful mockery of lustful hunger, ?Do you think your little dogbitch will survive your death??

She had nothing in that moment, her mind racing frantically to find a way out of the trap that was closing around her.

Mystri?s lips parted to deliver her harsh indictment but Jolie placed one slender finger across them, ?Tsk, tsk, think before you speak, shifter...this could go very very badly for a great many people.?

Cadence shuddered and moaned weakly in Mystri?s arms, reaching for her mistress with eager hands, encouraging her to join them in their bloody twining upon the floor. Against that cold finger, Mystri snarled, ?What do you want.?

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-03 11:55 EST
Blooded Ecstasy: Forging Bonds
Part 2

Jolie smiled....Victory at hand.

The finger was replaced by cold lips, her body pushing against the entwined women and using her supernatural strength to guide them backwards. Greedily her tongue darted out to lick the blood from her lips, ?You. Your sweet blood Mystri has long been,? Her excitement was palpable, her greedy desire a tangible accompaniment to her seductive movements, ?something I?ve wanted.?

Grinding Cadence between them she ran her tongue over the blood that bathed Mystri?s chin and down her throat, her fangs emerging as she purred her rapture. The eager sounds of the bard surrounded them both in a mockery of sensual foreplay. Rearing back, blonde hair sent flying in a cloud, Jolie launched herself forward and savagely ripped her fangs into that white column of perfection, penetrating Mystri and viciously gorging herself on the rich flow of her blood.

Mystri bucked violently, and unlike her counterparts she felt no ease of the struggle, no desire to surrender. With a shocking burst of strength she sent both Cadence and Jolie flying from her, skittering across the floor, her hand held to her gashed throat. In a feral crouch she regarded the vampiress, ?Never Again.?

Drunk on her blood, riding a high she couldn?t contain, Jolie nodded, not about to push it when she could see the need in Mystri?s eyes. She mistook it for her potent siren?s call, unaware that it was only her death that Mystri fantasized about.

?We?re even.?

Mystri peeled back her lips at that, her version of even holding a much different outcome for Jolie, ?You?ll say nothing about what happened in this room. And I will do the same.?

Jolie rose, trembling on a high that made her vibrantly beautiful. ?This will be our little secret.? And she damn well meant it for it wouldn?t do for the others of vampiric kind to know of this little treasure trove.

?Stay away from Cadence. Stay away from Quillyan. And damn well leave Saphira alone, Jolie.?

She nodded though no promises passed her lips, no need to incite the shapeshifter with revelations of her intents. Gliding, nearly floating on the ground, she passed by Cadence and stopped long enough to dribble her own blood upon the fallen girl?s lips, explaining to the growling Mystri, ?It will heal her.? And before she pushed her luck too far, she departed, unaccountably strengthened and pulsating with power.

Mystri panted. Prowling over to Cadence where she draped her body across the girl?s in a protective crouch. It was instinct that had her bathing her with her tongue, cleaning her from the taint and touch of blood, intermingled, shapeshifter, vampiress, and human. As Cadence stirred, pouty little sounds of need purling in her throat, Mystri continued the lick bath, the motions growing more heated, more demanding. Undulating now, writhing with a growing passion, Cadence pressed her own mouth eagerly against Mystri?s flesh, tasting with her own little flickers of an innocent tongue.

The sounds of their intermingled ecstasy erased the lingering effects of violence and as their bodies arched and writhed together, Mystri felt a twinge of dismay at the forging of yet another bond. But it was lost beneath the haze of pleasure and the burn of growing need.

Xera

Date: 2011-02-03 16:22 EST
He made her toes curl.

Her stomach clench.

Her mouth go dry.

Her breath catch.

Her heart skip a beat.

And every cliche she'd ever encountered about the opposite sex poured down upon her head with a deluge of sensations.

Blizzard Vaughn was steadily getting beneath her skin and making her blaze with an unaccustomed heat. She couldn't help herself.

An offer of help, a request for assistance, a tutoring match turned tickle fight, a hot mouth, busy hands, and a weight of surprise at his honesty.

Blizzard was not what she had expected.

And when she went to Ozalynne to apologize for trespassing on claimed land, she was even more stunned to discover that the sprite didn't mind at all and possessed but one startling proclamation, "He's the greatest Cherry Popper ever."

Xera had given a startled laugh and an even more wonderment filled, "Sex is so confusing I wish I could just watch and figure it all out."

And Ozzie had invited her over.

The night had been a blaze of sensual overload and Xera had stumbled free of the honeyed nest of desire they created, breathless and panting. Desperate for more than just a ticket's pass of voyeurship.

Nights later she'd found Ozzie a willing participant in a show of their own, this time Blizzard a spectator. Their frenzied response had left the azer-kin fleeing back to her room for a moment's respite. A desire to think. Rigid, structure was the azer way and this was chaos she wasn't equipped to deal with.

Their reactions had been that of concerned friends. No awkward tension, no weird repercussions. Only sweet, welcoming willingness to be whatever she needed them to be.

She joined them that night.

And the next.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent any real time in her own dorm rooms and made a promise to herself to catch up with Esteban and let him know what was going on.

Of course, every encounter with Blizzard and Ozalynne meant a kiss was exchanged, a touch, a glance, a heated caress. She was constantly aroused. Desperately excited to return to their room.

Yet through it all she remained, a virgin. For to do otherwise was to betray the rigid customs of her people. Her virginity remained a dowry promised and she knew wtih a pressing certainty that she needed to return home and take care of it. To honor the tradition, she need only meet with her Promised, explain her situation, gift him with her virginity and swear to return when child-bearing was needed. As long as she bore no children to other lovers afterwards she did nothing to risk banishment.

Of course this meant keeping the pinnacle of her lustful nature under wraps and with each smoldering kiss from Blizzard and giddy explorative teasing from Ozalynne she began to doubt her own self-control.

Control was something the Azer had never had to struggle for and as she recognized its importance she was distracted by the flash of Blizzard's grin from across the classroom.

Squirming, she forgot what she was thinking about, her eyes on that mouth and her palms dragging against the tops of her thighs as she felt her skin flush with heat. Wickedly hot and sensitive she nearly jumped out of her seat when Albion asked innocently enough, "Hey Zer, everything okay?"

And that's how Albion became the recipient of her troubles. Her best friend's ears burning with the details of her recent escapades and his brilliant mind taxed with helping her solve her newest dilemma.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-03 16:57 EST
The morning after

Saphira stirred slightly with a soft moan. She was having the most pleasant dream of she and Kish and was loathe to open her eyes and have the lovely visions fade from her. As sleep slipped gradually from her, her sensitive nose told her Kish was there, and she became more aware of the tangle of limbs and the fact not all of them were hers. ?Mmm...? Was uttered sleepily. Kish, meanwhile, dreamed the sated sleep one only gets while curled up with something possessing warm, luxurious fur. Even an evoker of cold could appreciate fuzzy warmth, and the visions dancing in his head of the night before only added to his yearning to stay asleep. The tangle of limbs wrapped ever tighter as he smiled. She nuzzled Closer, warm breath against his neck as her eyes slitted open ever-so-slightly. He was here. It wasn't a dream. She let her fingers wander lingeringly over the bare flesh of his chest listening to the steady sound of his breathing. She watched him as he slept with a gentle smile. He was so handsome. She felt her heart flutter as the memories of the night prior flooded back to her, how gentle he had been, every tender word he had spoken.

Kish's eyes blinked open, as he fought off a sudden case of the giggles. Who knew he was ticklish there? ?Ack! Oh. Hi there.? He yawned and rolled the kinks out of his shoulders, the sleepy smile returning to his face. ?And how did you sleep this time?? She smiled up at him. ?Much better....? Softly spoken. She let her hand rest where it was, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Slowly she moved to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. ?Thank you for...everything..? Her voice was still soft. He grinned ?I'd be lying if I didn't say the pleasure was mostly mine... But, I must say that I'm so very glad you're feeling... rested.?Kish couldn't help the smirk. Even the thoughts of the T n T last night didn't erase it. ? Saph... ? Do you think... you can tell me... who is this Zenobia?? Might be dangerous ground this early in the day, not to mention the proto-relationship that seemed to be fast forming, but if there's one thing anyone could say about Kish, his curiosity knew no match.

She furrowed her brow at him in complete confusion. ?Who?? She didn't remember that event, and as a matter of fact had thought it merely a black out. She knew she'd been suffering more of them lately but had not said anything to anyone other than Damien about them, and only because he had asked if she blacked out often. ?I don't know anybody by that name...? ?Well... ummmm... you might say she knows you. Very well. She and Quilly had quite the discussion last night.?
?Oh?? Stretching her body luxuriantly against his, and yawning. ?Why would this concern me? Has she been spying on me or something?? Suddenly worried. ?Is she one of Jolie's friends?? ?Not... exactly. She mentioned how little she liked the little leech... her words, if I remember right, and how you really liked me... and she spoke with your lips.? Not knowing what her reaction would be, Kish gently stroked bare fuzzy shoulders, hoping she didn't toss him out of the room. She didn't understand.

? My lips? That's impossible... As far as I know there aren't any students here even capable of possession..and I don't think the faculty would have any reason to, or what interest they would have with me and Quillyan.? She did not use the nickname for the girl as she strongly disliked her, despite Damien being convinced she might possibly in Jolie's thrall and not entirely in her right mind. Saphira couldn't believe that kind of hatred could come from somebody else and be evinced so convincingly. He frowned a little. Just a little ?I... really don't think it was possession. She knew a bunch of things that she said you were thinking. Like... well, like this.? No, he really couldn't totally wipe the smile off his face. Not when he found the most interesting little trail in the fur down her back. And hey, it's just perfect to run a finger down. Whee! ?Do you really call me your knight in glacial armor?? She gaped at him and felt her cheeks heat as the bloom of pink rose to color them. She could barely bring herself to speak. ?I never told anybody that....not out loud...? She was both embarrassed and somewhat disturbed that someone had been invading her mind without her knowing it and revealing her secrets for anyone to hear.

?Saph... That's what I'm trying to say. She said she was born of... oh, what was it... agony, injustice, and despair. She didn't sound like the happy type. She kept... well, she kept trying to make Quillyan see things from your point of view. Literally.? She shrugged, his hand trailing her spine distracting her somewhat. She loved his hands and how he seemed to know just how and where to touch her. ?I don't know...?Her tone was hedging to the fact it was beginning to upset her a little, possibly frighten her. ?I have been having...problems lately...even Damien noticed...I guess you could call it..black outs...Maybe I should see Mistress Evahlys again...? Looking up at him with large, worried eyes.
?Shhh. Don't... well, just forget I asked, okay? I'm sorry... I didn't mean to worry you, really.? Kish smiled that bright youthful smile of his, and pulled her closer. ?It's alright. See?? Call it an inborn need to fix things. Call it a heartfelt desire to not see those big worried eyes gazing up at him like that.

Call it what you will, if he were an empath, the "make things better" vibe would've been rolling off of him like an avalanche in the Alps. She cuddled closer to him, her furred torso rubbing against his as she tilted her face up to lightly nip his lower jaw. It was an affectionate gesture born of lupine instinct and backed by emotion. A silent thanks and heartfelt gesture of her adoration of him. Kish pondered while his hand moved. Should he bring up the blackouts? Should he go tell the Headmistress? Should he... then his stomach growled. At least, he hoped it was his stomach. He felt hungry enough for it. ?Saph? Are you... hungry?? She nodded. ?Famished. I was thinking about going to hunt....? Not thinking he might protest the safety issue with that. Even a deer could do a lot of damage with a swift, sharp-hooved kick. Kish's face screwed up in what he hoped to be an expression of concern. With a baby-face like his, though, who could tell? ?Are you sure? I mean, I know you like... well, you... hmmm. Maybe Mystri could help? So you don't... I don't want to see you get hurt.?


?I haven't even seen Mystri...To tell you the truth..I have been having a hard time feeling her, I think she's blocking me somehow..I'm afraid I might have done something wrong...I don't know..? Her expression fell. ?Maybe... maybe we could round up some breakfast that won't kick back, and go see if we can't find her?? Saphira nodded. ?Alright....though some of the stuff in the cafeteria I have wondered if it would fight back.....I swear I saw the 'mystery meat' blink at me.? ?Ewww, no. No cafeteria food. Nasty. I saw this place in town, and the pastries there smelled just heavenly.? Yeah, it's the kid talking here. Donuts? Just keep the glazer going. ?They also had this bacon and egg pie thing that looked really good. Wanna go try it?? She couldn't agree more about the food. ?Alright,? She sat up and a wave of nausea swept over her and she looked a little green for a moment. ?Ohh ugh....I hope this isn't one of those things that lasts long...? She managed not to throw up though and after a moment she stood up. ?Let me brush my hair first?? Kish's eyes widened. He could be the brush for just a moment, especially if she started at the toes and went all the way up and back.

His gaze certainly did. ?Huh? Oh! Sure!? She smiled sweetly at him and walked to her dresser to pick up her brush. She was still way too early to even think about showing and her body was still slender and feminine. Her hips swayed alluringly as she moved and she began brushing her hair, arms lifted as she separated and worked through the waist length tresses until it was a silken fall of white down her furred back. It was almost artful as she began groom the rest of her fur. She used a different brush for her body and started at her collar and worked over her torso and down over slender hips and rounded thighs to her calves. She straightened and gave him a playful smile.


?Would you help me with my back?? She pulled her long hair over her shoulder and offered the brush. It was a photo finish to determine what got there first. His hand, or... well, yeah. ?You have to ask??She flushed slightly, she had noticed his...eagerness..and could not hide the smile as she handed him the brush. ?Thank you.?Demurely spoken. The brushing soon turned to attentions of quite another sort and breakfast was forgotten for a little while?..

((Thank you to Esteban mun for helping co-write this scene!!!))

Sweet Dreaming

Date: 2011-02-03 17:40 EST
Plucked away from the life I had,?and made a pet to a vampire coven. Where I have to live to know the man I ever loved,?he took my body, soul and heart and made me the monster I am.? The coven I?d sworn to protect and love had abandoned me in this bloodthirsty form.
?

The coolest thing I can do?is to change into a red color wolf. I can walk in sunlight. The change hurts me when I move into my beast form.? I am trying to control it. To control the killing that sates my hunger and thirst for blood.
?
The ability to move through dreams, I wonder how many students? dreams?I can move through.? I shouldn?t try it. I wonder if the headmistress would frown on it. If I have to feed on blood, then I have to find a willing person or drink the blood wine my brother, Bayne gave me. He always gives me words of wisdom. I can hear his voice in my ears. Telling me not to fight what I am. I must feed. That is the easy thing to do. Now if I walk through the halls of the school, smelling humans and others like. Would I rip their throats out?
?
The head mistress said I must not, that I would deal with her if I do. A demoness is something I don?t want to fight. I met a human/cat in the Teas and Tomes.. It was confusing.
?
I am glad the headmistress put me under Mistress LaCross. Already she is helping as my brother helped me. She is helping with my vampire side, but no one helping me with my werewolf side.
?
?
?
----
?
Alyssa wrote the words in a black diary with blood ink, her blue eyes tinged with red. As she moved to her blood wine vat, fortunately still full, she poured her self a glass of the wine, growing hungrier when she saw the splash of red on the glass. She brought the glass to her lips, and drank. One glass helps her to get control. She took a single step back, blue eyes looking back from her reflection in the mirror. She smirked dressed in the novice uniform,
?
?Let?s do this???She softly spoke.? She kept her red hair piled high on her head in a bun.? She moves out of her room, almost knocking into the Cinder Havenloche, an older student. A mage. He caught on her elbow, his eyes narrowed.
?
?Abomination? he growled.
?
Alyssa?s blue eyes narrowed at kindred and snatched her elbow away. ?Excuse me?? she balls her fist up and her nails bit in her palms. ?I am not.?
?
?Oh yes you are. You shouldn?t be walking through these halls. This school can?t do anything for you. ?
?
She rolls her eyes and moves to walk away. He stopped her by blocking her path with his arm. ?Excuse me?I don?t care who do you think I am. You are going to let me by.? He gave a hard laugh. His eyes narrow at her, lower his steel gaze at her.? She wasn?t that bad looking.
?
?No.? He took a step to her and she step back away. She growled low in her throat. ?You are a worthless. You don?t deserve to be in the same school as me.?
?
He got really close to her ear. Only someone cleared her throat. Made him straighten up, and look back over his shoulder at Mistress LaCross. ?Is everything alright?? The older vampire woman moves closer.
?
?Yes, My lady.? He smiled.? ?Just giving this novice a welcome.? He turned his head toward the other vampire and to the dream walker.?

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-02-03 20:53 EST


The unexpected rush of dueling, accompanied by?the euphoric suspense of defeat, had adrenaline pulsing ecstatically?through Quillyan's supple physique.??The?young novice?felt powerfully alive, each base need excruciatingly magnified by a vigorous heartbeat; she wanted touch, and taste, and sound.? She want to see crimson locks all undone upon?shivering pale skin. She wanted sex.?

As she and Albion returned to their room, demanding fingers were already fumbling with the formal folds of his apprentice uniform while hungry lips engaged with his in a deliciously fierce?exchange of teeth and tongue, intimate in its devastating lack of poise or restraint.


But her lover broke the kiss with reluctant hands?gently gripping her shoulders, and his?cultivated?countenance peered down at her with characteristic, though gentle, sobriety.?"You wanted to talk," he urged with great care, eyes betraying the raw desire that warred within his stately silhouette.

Face, feature, and form alike chronicled a protest of?Albion?s interruption, but her grudging assent closely followed. She?arranged?herself casually on his bed, draping her arms around the bend of her fragile-looking knees.?She beckoned him to join her, never?forsaking?his intense emerald gaze.
?
She confessed.

?I?m sure that you know that Saphira blames me for what happened to her.? She?claims that I knew about Mistress Vesper's plan?to mate her to the Denubae.

?She?s right.? I did know.

?I should back up, though.? I admit that I was mislead, but I know that now, and I?m not sure if it really changes anything.? You see, late one night, after Saphira killed Jolie?s familiar, I came across?Jolie in the hallway.? She was crying, Albion.? Jolie.? Crying.? It would've been funny if it?hadn't been?so surreal.?
?
"She told me what Saphira had done to her wolf.? She seemed so devastated.? I know that Jolie is terrible, I do know that, but something about her seemed so tragic at that moment.?She told me that the wolf-girl...well, that she...wanted you, Albion, and you two?had been?spending so much time together.? It unsettled me.? It made me a little jealous.? Okay, a lot jealous. ?She asked if I would help her seek revenge on Saphira.

?I agreed.? In hindsight, it was a bad decision,?and I?do regret it.?

?Then there was New Year?s.? Whenever I think about that night, it's bittersweet - all I want to remember is you, us together afterwards, but I'm afraid the memory will always be?blemished by everything else that happened that night.?I couldn?t understand why everyone stuck up for Saphira, especially since she was the one who had been disciplined by the administration.? Naturally, Jolie never told me that she provoked the wolf-girl, so I was left clueless, wondering?how everyone?could support?a murderess.? I thought of Viisaus, and of you, and of her flirting with you, and I was angry. ?
?
?But the next morning, I didn?t go to a study session like I indicated in the note I left for you.? I woke before dawn, next to you, wanting to be blissfully happy but instead fretting over the fact that everyone seemed to support Saphira, while I had aligned myself with Jolie.? Even though it may have been foolish, I went to see Mistress Vesper, thinking that since she administered the wolf-girl?s punishment, she would have some insight into the situation.

?Let me tell you, Albion, those rumors about her being crazy are no joke.? That woman, or whatever she is, is completely deranged.? I followed her to feed the Denubae, pleading for information, and in return, I only?received demented babble about my children's forgiveness.? What children?? It was ridiculous, and terrifying, especially when I saw her ?preshuss.?? She promised me that she was forbidden to allow it to harm students.? She said that Deaconess Shah was always watching, and that the Deaconess had been?very displeased with the accidental death of a previous student - you know: Vliss.? When Vliss died.? I didn?t realize it until later, but?Vesper mentioned an Earth Elementalist not surviving the magiceater?s attempt at mating.? That would make sense, right? ?

?As I questioned?Vesper,?she?offhandedly mentioned?that Saphira was her ?beauty,? and that?she would make beautiful babies.? I tried to get more information out of her, but her thoughts bounced around so chaotically that I gave up.?

?Anyway, I came away with nothing except a vague sense of fear and frustration and the advice to ?help yourself.?? The whole thing was like some?twisted dream, and I didn?t tell anyone about it.? I don't know how the Gossip Winds knew."

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-02-03 20:57 EST
"After that, though, I told Jolie that I couldn?t help her seek revenge.? She didn?t take it very well, and since she's my partner in Smout'n's class, it's been tough.

?I never thought that Mistress Vesper?s plans to mate Saphira to the?Denubae would be realized. I told Saphira this, last night, when she was blaming me for everything.
?
?I?m getting ahead of myself again.

?I saw Saphira at the Dragon after her incident, after she had been with the Denubae, but before she was taken to the infirmary.? She was crazy - as crazy as Vesper, cooing about her ?preshuss? and twisting the head off of a live rabbit. ?I did say that the plan had worked, and I probably wasn?t very nice about the whole thing, but she was also threatening to break my neck.? I left as quickly as I could, and from that point on, I just tried to avoid her. It was easy, since she was in the infirmary. ?

?Until last night.? I was at Teas ?n? Tomes, alone, studying.? When Saphira and Kish came into the shop, I instantly thought about trying to slip out, because I wasn?t looking for a confrontation.

?The first words she spoke?were to call me?a ?cold, heartless bitch,? and things only got worse from there.? She seemed convinced that I was taking joy in her suffering, that I was attacking her, that I was somehow delighting in intense hatred. ?

?I tried to reason with her; I tried to remain aloof, reminding her that I?ve never done her harm and that I?ve never rejoiced in her suffering.? Sure, I told her that I couldn?t really relate to all of her trials, whatever they may've?been, but not being able to relate is far from being malicious.? I'm just a different person, and I've managed to avoid the type of tragedy that constitutes her past.

?So she tried to make me relate.? Using her fogstuff, she enveloped me in all of her painful memories, making me feel the anguish she felt.? I was already fairly guarded, trying to keep my own emotions in check, so I only suffered under her spell for a few seconds.? I warned her, Albion; I told her never to invade my mind again. ?

?I might not have been very kind, but after her attempt to make me suffer, I think that?s understandable.? I called her weak for her agony. When she accused me of not having humanity, I told her I had plenty. I did call her an animal, but I was still raw from her attack.?

?She accused and accused,?acting?if I spent all of my time plotting vile landmarks for her life.? I kept denying any role in a conspiracy, but she wouldn?t listen.? She tried to cast against me again, to make me feel what it would be like to be raped.? I was able to fend off the spell, and exhausted, I explained to her about my encounter with Vesper.

?I explained the insanity, Albion.? I tried to tell?Saphira?about Vesper's?claim that under the observation of Deaconess?Shah,?Vesper was forbidden from harming students.
?
?That?s why I never said anything, Albion!? I imagined that the administration, if concerned, would prevent any potential harm to students.? I told Saphira this -- I told her.? She, in turn, threatened to snap my neck.

?She said she was going to tell you about all of this.? I told her that you were a person of reason, but coldly encouraged her to try.? Why would she threaten to tell you is she wasn?t trying to break us up?

?It was crazy.? Even as I was?naming all of the other people who were more responsible for her predicament than I, she was raving like a madwoman, speaking in third person.? When I finally questioned the odd speech, she laughed and said that the wolf-girl was gone, and that she (the person speaking) was Zeno..er, Zenobia?? I can?t remember. ?

?I wanted to tell you this before she had a chance to get to you, because I?m sure she?d try to poison your mind against me.? I won?t say that I didn?t make any mistakes, because I know I did.? I should have never made a promise to Jolie.? But I?m not nearly as wicked as she would have you believe.? And I hated keeping secrets from you, because I..."

?I -- ??

Here the novice stopped, wide eyes shimmering with an unspilled sheen of tears.? Throughout the narrative, her voice?had risen and fallen with myriad of emotions, but now,?she was empty and open.? The words were there, on the tip of her tongue. ?

I love you. ?

They were the only words in her mind, yet they stung with the fear of vulnerability.

?I --?

She began again, seeking the courage to give voice to the powerful emotion.?
?
?I-- I don?t know," she whispered, defeated by her own fear. "I just can?t bear the thought of losing you, especially as a result of Saphira's or Jolie's manipulation.

?I hope you understand,? she murmured as the velvety tones broke into a dignified plea: ?I was angry and upset and jealous and other things from time to time, but I never hurt anyone.?

Within the mortal cage of her chest, Quillyan?s heart ached with dread.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-02-03 21:35 EST
{Sylvaticum Wing}

.. How did she get saddled with these two...

Vipers? Yes, Vipers, both figuratively and in relation to their house. The young noble woman wondered idly if Urevan had a hand in getting assigned with two roommates determined to make her life hell.

Grail seemed innocent enough, but she had been exposed to politics and intrigue since the cradle. She could see beyond the sweet words to the venom. Sacchrine sweetness was met with cool politeness. The necromancer would be watched.

Then came the more nocturne roommate. While there was some sense of camaraderie between the two, there was an underlying distaste radiating from the vampire. She had been warned what Cinder was off the bat and she was sure to watch her back around him as well.

She stowed her stuff and wondered if she could get away with pleading with the Administration to find her a new set of roommates. She had no real patience with bullies and here she was saddled with two potential ones.

The shadows stirred with her unease and that ever present Sentinel flowed into being. She knew he had been watching. "What should I do? Tough it out and stay close to my friends? Or find a way to get another room?"

She didn't know what to do and didn't expect an answer either... At least the gruesome twosome had already been introduced to her Shadowy companion and learned fast to tread lightly.

Cadence Smyth

Date: 2011-02-04 09:55 EST
Sadie?s door received a light knock and a softly sung, ?Good Morning!?

Delighted, the bard moved off down the hall and left the package of butterscotch, chocolates, caramel, and molasses chips waiting for the bouncing blue girl to find.

She didn?t knock at the next door as she thought perhaps the expectant mother needed all the sleep she could get. But the package of chamomile teas was placed just off to the side where it wouldn?t get stepped on or kicked over should Saphira not notice it on her way out. Though with her sensitive nose she doubted that would be a problem.

Up ahead in the darkened corridor she saw the approaching massive form of Sartha bearing down and swallowed a squeak. Technically it was just past dawn and she had every right to be outside of her dorm room but the minotaur always looked so incredibly grouchy.

She squared up her delicate shoulders and sang out happily, ?Good Morning Sartha!?

He froze. His great shaggy head lifting in her direction and nostrils flaring on a snort.

She froze. Her breath filling her chest and pushing her breasts taut against the uniform?s blouse .

He huffed as he moved toward her. So close she could feel the moist heat of his breath upon her. Turning his horned head slightly to the side so that he could run his gaze over her carefully.

Perfectly in uniform she stood transfixed by the point of that dangerous horn so near.

?What are you doing in the halls, Novice.? His heavy voice growling the words in a slow measured death knell.

?Delivering gifts!? Brightly. Almost frantically.

He snorted.

And she reached inside her basket to pull out the apple, shiny and red. ?My stepbrother is a minotaur and he just loves crisp apples, his favorite are the green ones but I haven?t been able to find any of those near the school and...? She was babbling, she ended it rather quickly, ?Here!?

He snorted and reared back at her dialogue. ?Your stepbrother?? The words almost a proclamation of doom.

?Yep!? She squeaked. ?My mom was a missionary and she kind of married everybody and I have so many siblings I can?t keep them straight. But my brother, Jakar, he?s a minotaur. He loved apples. And he also loved having his horns polished. That and helping him comb his back was always a plus.?

He snorted.

She stopped talking.

He turned to go.

She lifted her hand with the apple but swallowed back the words.

He turned back.

She closed her eyes.

The <crack> of the minotaur?s teeth sinking into the crisp flesh of the fruit echoed eerily in the hall as he moved off away from her, her now empty hand sinking to her side.




?Shwwoooh.?

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-02-04 10:45 EST
Enchantment Class.

?See me after class.?

The silky request slid along my senses and enticed me to be sinful. I knew what he saw in me. I knew what he recognized.

The lustful nature of a cambion was hard to repress and I felt no remorse in that I didn?t try to. There were other appetites that demanded my attention. Even now, I hungered.

My stomach rumbled and a pale face turned toward me, parting ghostly lips to offer, ?Want some??

Her name was Jannara and as she offered up her bowl of grapes I withheld response, for I did want some. But it had nothing to do with the fruit she held upturned toward me.

I wanted meat. A carnivore in the truest sense of the word, I did nothing to encourage her friendship for I would see her as only a means to an end...or breakfast.

I bet she?d taste good spitted and seasoned, roasting slowly over a fire.

Maybe it was the sheen in my eyes that warned her to withdraw her offer and train her dejected gaze ahead. Whatever it was I was returned to my previous introspection.

Enchantment magic irked me. I found the manipulative qualities of it distasteful and the class would have been one of the first I had sought freedom from if it weren?t for the instructor.

He was sin. Gorgeous sinew over a luscious frame.

And we were about to come to an understanding.



As the other students filed out, I moved toward his desk on purposeful legs, my willowy body waving in the welcoming walk that lured males of the species into noticing. The uniform skirt was short and dusted the tops of my thighs as I moved, the heels I wore to elongate the supple length of leg only encouraging the length of the glance.

I didn?t wait. I didn?t demur. I didn?t flirt.

The door had barely closed before I had him pushed back in his chair, one leg bending upon the arm of it and the other swinging out and around with an exotic dancer?s skilled grace. I hooked him and lowered as I spread my thighs about him.

His self-satisfied smirk became a feast I sought to devour with a hot, hungry mouth. My hand lowering between us to assist in giving us what we both wanted.

It was a hiss that drew the breath in sharply past my sharp little teeth, lips peeling back as I joined us.

He used that opportunity to speak, ?A girl who knows what she wants.?






He had no idea but I was about to show him.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-04 11:44 EST
Test day with Mistress Lyricstar part 1

The morning had been pleasant, the tea left outside her room a welcome surprise. she would have to make sure to thank Cadence when next they met. She dressed herself quickly and hurried to her first class of the day. She made it, and was even a little early. She settled herself in her usual seat and listened only half alertly as class proceeded. usually she was quite attentive but so much had gone on lately..


?Saphira? ?.. Saphira!?

Saphira looked up, startled to find herself looking into Mistress Lyricstar?s eyes. ?Saphira, could you please demonstrate for the class the transitional stages of water without using you own substance?? Saphira flushed slightly. ?Yes, Mistress Naveah.? The elementalist instructor smiled. ?Excellent. Up front please. And make sure to demonstrate clearly.? Saphira rose from her seat, smoothing her uniform and walked sedately to the dais in the front of the class and turned to face her peers. She took a deep breath, more to steady her nerves than anything. She knew the actual demonstration would be easy. ?Remember, Saphira ? This will be graded.? Naveah stood near the wall up front where she could watch her pupil.

Saphira looked over the class, a small sea of faces she really wasn?t familiar with, even though she?d been in this class over a month. She focused on the task at hand and lifted her hands up above her head. She wanted to make certain even those in the back would be able to see. Naveah was watching carefully and took note the girl was making certain she could be seen. Saphira?s fingers splayed wide and she began, explaining as she went along in a clear voice. ?Water is all around, both within and without. Even the air carries this life-giving element.? As she spoke she was concentrating on drawing the water molecules in the air to her, condensing them into a visible mass that shimmered and moved in a contained space she defined. ?Most are unaware of this because the molecules are so tiny as to escape the eye. But with proper control and discipline one may feel and manipulate them and thusly create a body.?

The ?ball? of water hovered and as she drew one hand out and to the side it followed the motion becoming a fluid stream that was almost ribbon-like. ?The molecule is the basic form and when it forms a mass it becomes a ?body?. There are three forms it may take recognized as solid, liquid and vapor.? As she spoke solid the liquid ribbon of water following her moving hands froze over becoming solid ice. As she spoke ?liquid? it thawed to flow freely again and as she spoke ?vapor? it thinned and the basic makeup loosened until it was a trail of fog. ?Basic laws generally state in order to accomplish these states energy must be added or removed in the form of heat or cold, but with magic we may bypass the time consuming addition of these outside factors and manipulate its states directly.?

She moved her hands again and the vapor followed flowing through all three stages fluidly, becoming whorls of mist that became shimmering liquid streams that separated and she twirled as easily as she might draw ribbons through the air. Even as it changed to ice it still flowed. ?Through such magic we may also defy the natural laws and create a ?flowing solid? Ice generally is not a substance inclined toward motion but we can manipulate it at the base form and change that.? The class was listening attentively, a few were taking notes and the front three rows had leaned forward in impressed awe. None of them had expected this quiet introverted girl to have such a grasp. Many of them had been in this class since the start of the semester and didn?t have that much control. Saphira lifted her arms back up above shoulder level and the flowing stream of water vaporized and then dissipated back into the very air she?d first drawn it from.

She lowered her arms and looked to Mistress Lyricstar who nodded open approval. ?Very good, Saphira. You may return to your seat.? As she stepped down from the dais and walked back to her desk her classmates were murmuring appreciatively. Mistress Naveah?s voice rang clearly. ?Alara, please come give us your demonstration..? She seated herself quietly and watched in silence as the next student was called up for her test but her attention drifted as her thoughts turned to recent events again. She hadn?t seen Albion in days and Kish?s words had worried her?..

She was shaken from her thoughts abruptly as class ended and the sudden shuffle and press of bodies around her became suffocating. voices overlapped eagerly. "Can you teach me..?" "Hey Saph I was wondering.." Too many voices. She felt overwhelmed. Naveah stepped in and saved the day. "Enough, please!" Sweet but very firm. "You all have other classes to get to. Saphira I would like a word with you. In private." She gave the class a meaningful look and they dutifully dispersed. "Now, Saphira..."

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-04 12:18 EST
Test day with Mistress Lyricstar part 2

Naveah took Saphira gently by the elbow and guided her to her personal office where an enormous ice dire wolf was in repose under the perch of a white owl who was also snoozing. Naveah smiled at her familiars as she eased Saphira into her study and closed the door behind them. She turned to face her student with a smile. "You have a very clear grasp of water elementalism, my dear. More so than many students who have been in my class since the beginning. Tell me, do you have any other training? Formal or otherwise?"

Saphira blinked and shook her head. "No, Mistress. It has always come naturally to me with hardly any thought. It is innate." Naveah nodded and settled herself behind her desk and gestured for Saphira to make herself comfortable in the seat across from her. "Have you any idea why that is, dear?" Her tone was gentle. "It is very uncommon for Lycans to possess any magical ability, much less be inclined to an element." Saphira shook her head. "No Mistress. I - I was an orphan. I know only that I have Lycan heritage, I do not know why I am so inclined to water and ice. Or any other elements for that matter."

Naveah nodded and rose again walking around her desk to stand directly in front of the still seated girl. She gently placed her hand on her cheek and bent to look her in the eye for a long several moments. Saphira sat quite still, a little uncomfortable with such scrutiny but not one to defy a teacher. Naveah's eyes widened a little in surprise and she murmured. "Ah..that explains it." She chuckled softly in pleasure. "Sweetling you're a half-blood." Saphira squirmed in her seat. "I thought that had been established." Her voice almost tight, not certain she wanted to know where this was going.

"Ah yes, but would you like to know what that other half is?" Saphira looked up sharply. "You mean you know?" Her voice whisper quiet with shock. Naveah laughed softly. "Saphira, I am intimately familiar with my element and the creatures associated with it. That means physical characteristics, traits and so forth. That also means I can determine from your eyes a trait only seen in a certain creature type." She seemed pleased with her conclusion. "Sweetling, one of your parents was an elemental. And with your inclination for ice and fog I would even go so far as to specify a frozen fog elemental."

Saphira sat in silence taking this in. She never considered her parents. Orphans don't usually think about those things. They were more of a surreal concept to her than anything. something she knew she had to have in order to exist, but was never really made real for her. Naveah went on. "As such, you would be a perfect candidate to be my assistant. You have demonstrated a skill that exceeds that of the rest of your class." Saphira was dumbfounded. "I don't know what to say..I.." She paused and gathered herself. "I'm honored but there's a ..problem. I..I'm.."

She wasn't sure how to say it. Naveah waved her hand almost negligently. "So I have heard. The Gossip wind is correct then?" Saphira nodded mutely. "No matter, though I would like to know.. I have seen you with Kish a lot lately, is he..?" Gently prompting. Saphira's eyes flew wide. "Oh, No he's..I mean we..No. He's not. No student is." Her voice was quiet. Naveah nodded grimly. "So that rumor is true too, then." Saphira's face drained of color. Naveah placed a hand on her shoulder. "The walls have ears, my dear. Have no worry, It does not change my mind. Will you consider my offer?"

Saphira nodded. "I...yes. I'll do it." "Excellent!" Naveah beamed at her. "I will have the necessary arrangements made. You realize this means you will have added responsibility and more work, but I will also help you learn about your heritage and aid your training. Personally. And since you show potential with the other elements I will arrange a meeting with the other professors of elementalism so that you may begin refining your skills as soon as possible. I wish to see your education progress beyond simple instinct and reaction. You have the potential to be great, Saphira."

She let her hand slide from the girl's shoulder. Saphira stood, her mind reeling. "Thank you, Mistress." She spoke in quiet awe. "You are quite welcome. You may go, and I suggest you ready yourself, the next few weeks will be...grueling. You may go now" Saphira opened the door and slipped out with a nod and another murmured thank you. Naveah's word's echoed in her mind.

"You have the potential to be great."

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-02-04 13:04 EST
The high neck on her chosen uniform concealed the bruises on the pale length of her throat. But the bruises on her heart were more apparent in the clamped together perfection of her luscious mouth.

She taught her class with a general air of preoccupation, her normally astute observations lacking as she handed out the assignment with no awareness of their comprehension.

Alone once again after dismissal had her slumping into her seat with a soft sound no longer able to be held. Tears spilled as she folded her arms on her desk and let her face burrow within the crook.

Brais had hurt her.

But she had hurt him first.

She knew that the measuring stick she used to assess his love was a warped creation of past betrayals. It wasn't fair to accuse him of an infidelity he did not engage in. For him, Vliss was simply not his problem.

Her constant fear of being the "other woman" was unfounded. For Brais, she would always be the Only Woman.

And she'd hurt him.

There were times when his cold nature unnerved her. When the sharp edge of his ambition cut her. But never had he given her the right to question his devotion to her.



Hours later she stood over the stove in their shared kitchenette. She was tired. A little frayed about the edges, but the dinner was excellently prepared. The recipe she had requested from Eleyna Drachenwylde a sumptuous one used to impress draconic regality. By treating it like a spell, Fleur had been able to carefully and beautifully prepare it.

But beyond that...she was dressed in one of Brais' favorite flowing kimonos. The long coil of her butter soft hair free to drift about her slender back.

At the sound of the door opening she turned with her sumptuous mouth curved in the most welcoming of fashions.

She had more than this simple surprise for him...

...their rooms had been redecorated, and she'd left both their doors open so that he could see the efforts of her labor. His bedroom now contained her belongings as well and the bed that had once occuped hers was replaced with a desk and assorted shelves held office materials.

The nervous flutter almost undid her as she swallowed, her bruised throat aching, his name a supplication upon lips designed for pleasure, "Brais."

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-02-04 18:27 EST
"Get up." Brais hissed over his shoulder to the Novitiate who laid in a heap upon the ground behind him, the victim of the Mage's harsh fist. He was facing the fallen student's partner-in-crime just outside the Components room where, it seemed, they both thought they could enter and exit at their capricious whim. "You understand that stealing from the Institute is a serious offence." It was not a question but an accusation.

"Please, Mage Galician! Please don't tell anyone!" The student begged, his nervous eyes quivering within their frames. "We'll never do it again."

Brais glanced down to the wand the first year student held and then slowly inclined his chin to bring the scared eyes back into view. "You are correct." He agreed with him, though the words were laced with a threat.

There was a flash of movement from behind, a rustle of robes and cloaks as the student who had been struck down to the floor suddenly sprang up and lashed out with a quick spell, engulfing his hand in searing electrical current as he reached for the ivory haired head of Brais Galician. With just a brush he could unleash the bolt and char the brain, such intense damage offering more than enough time to escape.

With an inhuman quickness Brais spun to face him, his raised arm catching the outstretched hand just beyond the wrist - beyond the electrical crackle. In the same motion he slid a step to the side and drove a punishing uppercut into the extended elbow of the Student, his closed fist - fueled by potent mana - shattering the joint and sickly folding the arm upward in the opposite direction. The student screamed, though that was answered by another sliding step and pivot as Brais drove his elbow fiercely into his throat.

Like a sack, the student dropped.

Footsteps filled the corridor, and with a glance Brais saw the other Novitiate, the one who tried to draw his attention while his co-conspirator ambushed him from behind, racing toward him with that wand he had stolen extended and its tip flaring with magic.

Brais reached out with an open hand and clenched it closed around the air.

The student gurgled something in his throat and stumbled down to his knees, the use of his hands suddenly required and forcing him to release the wand that skittered across the floor. Braced upon one arm, he clawed at his throat as though trying to peel away the grasp that choked him, and yet felt nothing there but his own flesh.

Brais marched toward him, holding that closed fist aloft as though displaying to him the catalyst of his asphyxiation. With wide eyes the student stared up, though his sapphire pupils were glazing over with panic. "Puh....please..." He gasped.

The snap kick drove the instep of Brais' boot into the left temple of the Novitiate, sending him jolting to the side to bounce the opposing side of his head off the wall. He recoiled back and slumped to the ground, consciousness drifting away.

He could have killed them both had he wanted; the elbow to the throat too low to crush the windpipe, and the kick to the head not hard enough to crack the skull like an egg. He could have, but he didn't.

Death was too easy a release.

He left them inside the nearby Imp Pits to be molested and violated by the mischievous fiends. They would be found in the morning by Master Mos'em or Master Menolymus, which ever needed the chamber first.

He navigated the corridors easily as he returned to his wing, and the door to his room came into view as he rounded the corner. The strain between he and Fleur had subsided, at least in his mind, and he was determined to make sure she understood that. What had happened, happened, and it was imperative that they move on. She was not part of his culture, not part of his rearing, and still housed those feminine emotions that made her look at things with an empathetic response. He had no passion for such things, saw no value in them, and would make sure that his stance on this was clear as they - he and Fleur - moved forward together.

Needless to say, as he stepped through the door and saw her bedecked in the silken embrace of his most appealing kimono, he was taken aback. She was a vision, a Eregansu no tenshi - an angel of elegance. His breath caught for a moment as he let the door fall closed behind him, eyes trickling down the beautiful length of her to soak in every sensual detail.

He took a step, just one, and that is when his casual glance seeped through those open doorways to take in the arrangement of the bedrooms. Her things were there beside his. Her bed removed so that they shared only one. Truly together.

He stopped, the awestruck expression bestowed by the sight of her dissolving into a placid canvas. Very few things actually startled Brais Galician.

This did.

With a slow swivel he turned, bringing his beloved Fleur back into view. Brows knifed together in a vicious narrowing of eyes, one that was often used when he sought to contain emotion. His lips were wire thin, pressed together, clenched to revolt against the sounds that sought escape.

"Brais."

His name. That was what she said.

He went to her, strong arms flowing around supple extremities as hard lines of masculinity were constricted tightly against her body. Lips were covetous of her mouth, claiming her with a heated kiss that was wrought of passionate insanity. He walked her back, pushing her against the wall, the same one he had pinned her to by the throat just nights before, and wedged his leg between her thighs to flex against her heated apex. Lethal hands fell and pulled at the kimono to open it up, determined to take her there.

Not there. The bedroom.

Their bedroom.

That was where he wanted her.

The lustful inferno seemed to simmer suddenly as the kiss was broken with a gasp, a step backward relieving her breasts from the restriction of his chest, and as well as the junction of her slender legs from the straining muscle of his thigh.

Emotion subsided, melting away as composure was once again mastered. She had made dinner and he wouldn't let her efforts go unnoticed.

"Fleur." He breathed her name with the same need as he did the air.

Alaric Granger

Date: 2011-02-05 13:40 EST
Learning the Ropes

?This way.?

He followed with an uncertainty that he concealed beneath the fa?ade of a bland expression. The weight of the school walls seemed to close in around him the deeper he progressed within the Institute. Memories of his past assailed him and his nostrils flared with the sharp inhale meant to relieve him of their cloying grasp.

He?d made many uncertain walks down imposing hallways and he?d weathered them all. Rolling his broad shoulders back and sending the cotton shirt stretching to contain him, he appeared unruffled even as they passed the monstrous blue-furred guardian of the halls.

?That?s Sartha. He?s Hot. As long as y?follow the rules.? The rolling hips of his guide were becoming a bit of a distraction, her wickedly undulating walk designed to draw an appreciative eye. He deliberately pulled his green gaze away from her backside to gauge the distance they had traversed.

Exit strategies were his specialty after all.

?So, ye?ll be like a commuter huh?? She flashed a grin back over her shoulder at him, ?That?s pretty smokin?, most everybody lives on campus. They?ll probably insist on given y?a dorm room in case yer studies go late and y?need a place to crash. There are quite a few applicants that or gonna be needin a roommate.?

Her chatter was accompanied by a fiery look of assessment that had him instinctively drawing in a breath and holding it. Habit had him fisting his hands at his sides as he prepared for whatever assumption came next.

?Looks like ye?ll get a half load. And yer gonna start with yer basic Components and Spellcasting, that?s the Mistmarks. And yer gonna need a basic elements course. I?d totally go with fire, cuz it?s the best. And then ye need a basic school of focus.?

?Focus??

?Well like are ye into blowin things up? Cuz if yer destructive y?can start with Evocation. D?ye wanna see into the future and watch people and the like, y?got yer basic Divination. Wanna create things? Go with Conjuration. Darker arts, y?got yer ShadowMagics. Make people see what ye want, Illusion? Make people do what y?want Enchantment? Got a thing for dead folk, y?got Necromancy. If y?can sing y?could look into Bardic. If y?like to protect people, there?s shield magic, Abjuration and y?could---?

?Protect.? It was instinctive and the low baritone gravel of his voice brought that single word to proclamation status.

She beamed. ?Alright, we?ll start ye with Abjuration, ye?ll end up takin a variation of them all as yer General Studies for now, but it?s a start.?

She led him down a series of hallways again and he was having a tough time keeping track of his location. Spinning around with a bright smile she opened the door and shuttled him in. ?There ye go. Basic Abjuration just started.? Her small hand curved around his bicep as she warned, ?Oh, don?t mind Mistress Lillura, she?s kinda ...? She rolled her expressive soot darkened eyes and waved him inward.




An hour later he was at a loss for words. The woman in charge of the classroom was apparently out of her mind. She flickered from coherency to insanity with a blink of an eye and randomly forgot they were even sitting there.

The majority of the discussions were so far above his head that he had taken to staring out the window at the lush gardens that sat invitingly near.

Apparently he wasn?t the only student not paying attention because she suddenly erupted, ?Well if you?re not going to listen to the explanation you?ll just have to demonstrate the lesson learned!?

He probably should?ve gotten the warning that this was bad by the number of students who suddenly ducked beneath their desks, a few even scuttling for the door.

From the center of her desk erupted a black tentacled mass of writhing darkness, the limbs growing as the Mistress of Abjuration stepped back and shrilly demanded, ?Show me how you?d shield against this then!?

The sprouting length of a massive tentacle shot upward and slammed down on a table that no longer held students, crashing the frame into a splintering of wood as it writhed, another shattered a nearby window and still yet another undulated outward to sweep two fleeing students from their feet.

Disbelief had him rigid in his seat, and he cursed viciously as the Abjuration Instructor stepped back from her creation and trilled prettily, ?Write up what method worked best for you and submit it for tomorrow?s homework,? and disappeared.

She disappeared.

He blinked. Wide green eyes opening to stare at the spot she?d just occupied.

A writhing tentacle had risen above his head during his distraction and as he regained his senses he was tackled by a muscled body of another student. There was a flash of lavender, a ripple of trained sinew and then they were both rolling across the floor as the desk and chair shattered beneath the attack.

As they crashed to a halt he caught sight of another tentacle lashing toward them and it was a natural fighter?s habitual reaction to lash out with his fists, rolling up to his feet to deliver a rain of sharp jabs that kept the tentacle from advancing enough to ensnare him.

A wild chuckle erupted beside him as his newfound comrade gained his feet and threw up a shield on either side of them to keep the remaining two tentacles from reaching them, ?Nice hit.?

He couldn?t help it. The flash of his own white even teeth revealing the exhilaration he felt at successfully hitting the damn thing. ?Yeah, Well nice tackle.?

The response was lost as the tentacles had grown impatient with their inability to grasp their target, twining around a chair and a podium to send it flying toward them. ?Down!? Alaric shouted, and they both ducked as the objects hit Blizzard?s shield and shattered.

?What in the hell do we do now??

Blizzard?s grin was infectious, ?I say we get the hell out of the ring.?

Back to back they traversed the room, Blizzard?s shield keeping them from being the recipients of thrown objects and with their combined pugilistic natures they were able to beat off the whipping lash of several smaller tentacles that sought to breach the protection. It was slow going and the concentration and agility needed drew sweat to glisten both their bodies. Having drawn the attention of the magical beast, however, upon reaching the hallway they were cheered and applauded by the other students who had darted for freedom early in the escapade.

Bent double, gasping for breath, Alaric lifted green eyes glittering with excitement to meet the lavender gaze of Blizzard, ?So what did we all learn from Mistress Lillura?s exercise?? Blizzard snarked.

Taking a deep breath Alaric responded, ?Not to sit that close to the front ever again.?

Their laughter rang in the halls.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-05 14:59 EST
A bit of comfort

She had promised Kish not to hunt, not that she would not accompany her bond mate while she hunted. It was easily as good as the real thing, she remembered Mystri's feeling flowing freely through her as she had watched from the sidelines as it were. The anticipation, the chase, the glorious thrill of the struggle and crimson victory spilled hot on the snow. She'd shivered with the excitement as it coursed through her as though she herself had brought the stag down. When there was no longer a chance of nerves causing post-death throes and jerks she'd approached and fed.

Her gratitude was intense, but not nearly as intense as the pure pleasure she obtained when she had sunk her teeth into that soft underbelly, spilling blood and entrails. It was almost sensual - the hot sticky blood dribbling over her jaws, the taste of still-warm flesh and a satisfaction unlike little else as her terrible hunger was satisfied. She lapped eagerly at the felled animal's rent body, indulging in it's blood until the need for substance took over, and she began a slow gorge.

Not too much, not too fast. but she'd been hungry so long and now presented with sustenance she was able to stomach she could not resist. She worried flesh almost trance-like, the feel of her jaws working also generating a sense of well-being. Finally she lay, head half-buried in gore eyes partially closed as she consumed her fill. Even when she'd been sated, she licked at the dead animal for some time. Eventually she slowly came down from the state of euphoria created by something so very basic.

Mystri might have understood, and perhaps it had been something passed along their connection that had incited Saphira's state. As sense and reason returned she'd made certain she'd shown her gratitude, had been more than even her usual affectionate self. Lune had re-joined her once she'd fed and in her still dizzyingly pleasure heightened state had eventually excused herself. The huge white wolf had loped through the snow toward school with the intent to fulfill another hunger.

She'd shifted her shape with surprising ease and fluidity, a drastic change compared to how it was normally a twisted affair. Sartha was avoided easily, she could smell him from a great distance, minotaur was not a subtle scent. It wasn't unpleasant, merely strong. But she had other things on her mind. Namely, Kish. Swiftly she moved through the halls, single minded until she came to the room he shared with Akemi. Akemi was off somewhere else, probably up to mischief and that was fine by her.

She practically prowled to the door rapping softly. Kish opened the door, a little surprised. "Saph! What're you..?" He'd been all ready to protest her being here, he hadn't finished working on the surprise he'd promised, but her mouth hungrily claiming his caused him to forget any protesting at all. She pressed eagerly into him, closing the door as an after thought, her hands seeking to remove his clothes. Fingers were deft as she unfastened his shirt and trousers, almost frantic in her need for him. Kish's hands were eagerly roving over her body in return, fingers sliding through fur and pulling her hard against him even as she stripped him.

Her insistent desire aroused him immensely and it was not long before hands and lips were occupied with straining bodies and inflamed passion. They never even made it to the bed. Saphira had pulled him to the floor with her right there and almost forcibly joined them with a deft motion and a blissful moan. Kish found her almost feral demanding proved too much and ardently reciprocated. When finally the crescendo subsided, leaving them wrapped in a contented heap upon the floor still entwined he had to ask. "What was that about? Not that I'm complaining, mind you but...I could get used to it."

Saphira didn't answer. She'd fallen asleep where she lay Her body still engaged with his intimately. He chuckled softly and shifted, disengaging so that he could gently lift her and carry her slumbering form to his own bed. He tucked her in, and kissed her forehead. He would join her later, but he wanted to finish what he had been working on before the abrupt interlude. He stooped to retrieve his pants from where they'd been cast aside in a frenzy and slipped into them. He then turned and moved across the room and lifted a blanket off a large object in the corner to resume working on it.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-02-05 23:01 EST
The grand tour

She had arrived, less than pleased the school was so far from any decent body of water. Dry land was not her place, but there had been rumors this place might be able to further strengthen her magical inclinations. She made a face of disgust, exposing shark-like teeth and hissing displeasure. she would make do until she was shown her place and then adjust it to her own liking. She passed through the gate and entered the building, and paused at the threshold, sensing something dark, something, dangerous, something that made her smile.

She inhaled deeply, emitting a low purling sound accompanied by clicks and hissing. Pleasure. The long bone blades along her spine slid out with a soft wet sound to rattle against each other like the branches of dead trees in the wind. A low guttural snort snapped her to attention, dark green eyes taking in the massive form of Sartha. "Well now, aren't you quite the specimen.." Her voice whisper quiet to keep that siren's lure in relative check. She sized him up.

Open appreciation was on those sensual features. She liked exotic creatures, and land-dwellers to her were as exotic as it got. she might have already taken a favorite, but she did not see the harm in keeping a few 'pets'. Her voice was the softest croon as she spoke again. "I assume you would be Sartha?" She'd been told he would be the one showing her around, and been warned he was rather...grumpy. But he was not prepared for this enchanting creature. She exposed those razor-teeth to him in a feral expression and faintly he thought he should be wary but her voice had ensnared him, if only just a little. He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts and spoke in that gravelly deep thunder. "This way."

He neither confirmed nor denied her query of his name. Almalthia smiled to herself, she liked a challenge and had taken a minotaur once before. The predator in her loved the thrill of the hunt, whether it be for food or sexual gratification. She could tell despite his gruff brush-off she'd caught him off guard. He led her through the campus, pointing out only the more important things such as the infirmary, the library and the commons. He spoke in short impatient sentences, unwilling to be social.

Finally they arrived at the room she would call her own and he gestured curtly. "There." That deep rumble sounding permanently displeased. Brazenly she purred at him his name was almost erotic the way it fell from her lips. Obcenely intimate and dripping with suggestion and promise that would sent a tingling quiver up his spine. "Sartha.." She graced him with an alluring smile, eyes shifting from green to blue. "Thank you for showing me to my room.."

Here she paused, meaningfully. "And should you decide to drop by.." Leaning in closer that whisper filled with intoxicating allure that pulled even at Sartha's stony demeanor. "It would be my *pleasure* to perhaps show *you* something in return." Sartha's eyes widened and without a word he turned on hoof and left stiffly, grumbling about damn first years and boundaries. Though he was certain it was the siren's magic that had prompted those lustful thoughts he almost angrily quelled. He'd have to watch that one. He didn't trust her.

Almalthia watched the hulking brute leave with a satisfied smile playing those lips and she opened the door to her room and began the task of making herself at home. She only hoped Darkir would understand that while she might 'play' she considered him her favorite and he would be fiercely coveted. the room was surveyed with a deep frown. This simply would not do. A simple spell and she began the work of creating a watery paradise in her space in the room, leaving the other half untouched. her roomate, whomever it might be, would have no troubles traversing the room as she'd chosen the side furthest from the entry to avoid such a problem. And so she began settling in.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-06 16:23 EST
A visit with Natolii

Damien had met her outside her room, though she'd over slept. His scent had roused her and she'd sworn softly as she threw on her uniform and bound her hair. She joined him outside her room, and had expressed concern that perhaps it was better to let things alone and hope it went away. He had gently disagreed, and suggested she talk to his mother anyway. So together they traversed the halls of the school and gone to Natolii's office. Damien never got a chance to knock before his mother's voice had come. "Come in, sweets" Damien chuckled wryly. "I hate when she does that" He'd commented. They entered together and Damien had offered Saphira, who was nervous a seat and gone to make tea.

Natolii was quite astute in the observation they were there concerning much of what had been mentioned in the Wind. Damien confirmed it. Natolli's attention turned to Saphira. "Why don't you explain what you know, starting from what you think is the beginning?" And Saphira had. She had also expressed she did not want any more trouble to come from this, but only wanted all the strife to stop. Natolii had listened and Damien gave her tea and gotten a grateful look in return.

It was decided disciplinary action would not exactly be taken but Jolie would be reigned in. Quillyan wasn't mentioned specifically, but Saphira didn't think she'd been forgotten. Through the course of the conversation Saphira had mentioned she viewed Damien as her brother, and had come to like Natolii very much. Natolii in return had told her to take care never to allow her baby to come in contact with water, and to do them proud with Mistress Lyricstar. She seemed to approve of Saphira's new position as a helper of sorts in the elementalism class, and mentioned she would be watched, though it did not at all seem like a threat.

They discussed how the child might not have the Denubae's fatal weakness to water, but had all agreed it was not worth the risk. Natolii had even told her she would be welcome in her own personal estates off campus should she feel the need to escape the pressures of school a while. As the meeting concluded Saphira had (with Damien's encouragement) Hugged Natolli and thanked her. She left with him, as he had arranged with his sister to have something freshly killed since she was under promise (and watchful eyes) not to hunt alone. They had left together.

((Much thanks to Damien / Natolii for this scene! You are awesome!))

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-07 23:51 EST
Oh My!

Saphira had been walking and thinking quietly in the snow, one of her favorite pass times when she could. She'd run into Moir and Sadie as well, a pleasant enough surprise. The girls had greeted each other, Moir had apologized for her overtly eager hugging when Saph'd still been in infirmary and Saph had laughed it off. The three talked, chatting and wondering what would be fun and when it came to their attention Saphira had never been shopping, well......

Sadie and Moir had been all too happy to haul her musingly to the market place and there commenced shopping. First stop was a jewelery shop where Saphira picked out a diamond necklace with a stunning diamond and sapphire pendant all in platinum. It looked lovely with her fur. Sadie had even gone ahead and payed without a word. A gift. Saphira was thrilled. Later on that evening after Moir had gone and she and Sadie had parted ways, she found another shop. A clothing shop, of sorts.

The woman inside had looked at her mildly, after all in Rhy'din there were much stranger things then furry girls. And from there it got...interesting. The woman, a middle aged dark haired woman with full pouting lips and a curvy hourglass figure, smiled. "You looking for something special, darlin' or just browsin'?" Her voice was sultry and warm. Saphira turned to her shyly. "I'm not sure..I was looking for something attractive?"

The woman laughed. " 'Chere, attractive I got. Yer goin' ta need ah bit more of ah specific. Come, why don'cha follow me ta th' back an' we'll see what we c'n do for ya, eh?" Curiously Saphira followed her to the back, pushing past heavy purple drapes. The woman turned and faced her. "M'name's Bess. Now what kinda 'attractive' ya goin' for, chere? Ya got ah boy yer lookin' ta impress?" Saphira blushed. "How did you...?"
Bess smiled. "Call it ah psychic twinkle. Ah'm thinkin' with yer pale skin an' that white fer somethin' in blue..."

She busied herself suddenly looking through oddly shaped 'clothes'. While she did that Saphira looked around some. Strange clothing, hourglass shaped, some with strings some with zippers. All colors and materials from white and soft to Shiny red to glossy black, Bess had it all. She picked up a flimsy smallish bit of materiel and looked at it. It didn't look large enough to cover anything. Bess turned to look at her before murmuring. "Those're panties, darlin'. An they're no s'posed ta cover much. Yah've never been in a lingerie shop before 'ave ya?" Not waiting for an answer. "Don't'cha worry, Chere, Bess will get you fixed up right."

Bess took her elbow and led her to a dressing room. "Here now try these on. No, darlin' this goes here..." It took a little bit of coaching but Bess soon had Saphira outfitted in a light blue corset with stockings and panties to match. she stepped back to eye her handiwork. "Hrmm..not bad, not bad if I say so mah'sael'." Nodding. Saphira looked in the mirror, rather shocked. "Wow...." She breathed. "Do you really think He'll like this?" Bess laughed. "Chere, if he don' like it, ya may want ta check 'is pulse an' make sure 'e ain' dead. Any hot blooded young buck would more than like that. Now ya make sure ya don' walk the street lookin' like tha' ot you'll end up in trouble."

Saphira nodded. "Yes'm." Still marveling at how she looked. "How much do you want for all this?" Bess pursed her lips. "Some of that fur of yours, now don' get worried just ah lil' bit an' nobody'll notice. Lycan fur's valuable ya know." Saphira nodded slowly. "Alright, just, not where it'll look funny, please.." Bess was quick and had shears ready and she quick as a wink clipped a little fur off the inside of Saphira's wrist and it didn't even show. "We'll call it fair, now but yer needin' one more thing." She turned and selected a long coat. "Ere, put this on over it an' cover up. Keep it closed til ya meet up with yer feller an' then ya c'n drop it an' show 'im yer new getup. an'..." With a twinkle in her eye. "Iffin' ya find yerself 'ere again' ya can tell Bess 'ow it went, non?" Winking.

Saphira slipped the long over coat on and closed it. "Thank you!" Bess walked her out. "Now 'urry an go show yer feller!" With a knowing laugh that drifted after Saphira as she gated back home to the IAP. She snuck through the halls soundlessly and made her way to Kish's room and knocked softly. When he opened the door she stepped in with a giggle. "Saph? What're you doing up this late? You should be res-.....oh my!" She'd let the coat fall open and slither down her body to the floor and Kish stared. Not long after he was eagerly showing her his appreciation for her new outfit...

http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/632/saphwayoutofuniform.jpg

((Moir and Sadie both were in the scene I started this from. Thanks!))

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-02-08 06:39 EST
{Illusion Class}

Uziya stood in the center of the room, feet spread shoulder width apart, his wand held loosely in his left hand. He wasn't left handed, in fact he was predominantly right, but he learned years ago that there was an extraordinary fascination and fear of those who used their left hand and he desired that such assumptions were made about him. He was an illusionist through and through, with or without magic.

Zhennavieve LaCroix stood across from him, the sweet and docile countenance of her alluring features a deceptive veil of the aggression lingering below the surface. Garlanded in one of her infamous Victorian ensembles, she was a vision of purity, complete with parasol and innocent mien.

"Monsieur Grazzul." She sang with her compelling influence. "Begin when you are ready."

Desks and chairs had been pushed out to create a mock-ring inside the classroom, keeping the other students beyond their arena and awarding Uziya and the Instructor a platform to perform upon. He grinned at her sentiment, understanding the ploy. Illusionary magic was a powerful tool, though it worked best when it was responsive to an opponent. Twisting and contorting the reality of an aggressor was far easier than that of a casual observer if for no other reason than that aggression naturally clouded perception and assisted the magic.

Uziya lifted his wand and with a word began.

In a blink the landscape was warped, transforming the classroom into the rocking deck of a galley at sea amidst a violent maelstrom. Bone chilling seawater erupted all about them as the haul of the ship crashed against staggering waves, this splash commingling with the steady downpour from above. The wind howled, and clothing and hair was instantly plastered to face and body.

Zhennavieve's eyes widened, though the smile that followed created an expression of excited surprised, as though she had just opened a box and found a cookie. She looked around, noting the exceptional details, from the deadly black clouds that rolled across the sky to the slamming doors and windows of the decks below as the ship swung back and forth.
She grinned at him, twirling her parasol upon her shoulder. "It's a good thing I brought my umbrella." She winked, though the twinkle in her eyes showed that she had cast.

Uziya heard movement from behind and with a turn over his shoulder saw that he was suddenly surrounded by a score of unsavory fellows, each of which was bedecked in the fashion of a pirate. In a half-wreathe they approached, their hands gripping the hilts of sabers and cutlass alike as though anxious to tear him apart.

Disbelief.

It's what every illusionist sought to master.

The mind was a powerful tool, and if feeble enough, it could trick the body into believing in things that weren't there. This included damage, injury, and pain. Indeed, an Illusionist could kill an opponent with nothing else but the convincing belief that the adversary was indeed dying...even if he were not.

Uziya held firm, and cast again.

Joining the roar of the thunder came a cacophony of cannon booms. The entire ship jolted as it was rammed by an oncoming vessel, a second ship mixed into the fray. The pirates who surrounded him all stumbled chaotically, some going over the rail, as they slid across the slick deck of the ship.

Zhennavieve gave the new ship only a cursory glance, looking composed upon the deck, unconcerned with the cannons, the rain, or the chaos of rolling barrels and sliding crates. "You've only defended against my spell. You've done nothing to threaten me." She said offhandedly.

He started to speak, though before a single word could be uttered the landscape was transformed. It melted away, the sky and sea stripping away as though the rind peeled from a fruit, to leave them both standing upon a snow covered ground set inside a blizzard. The wind whipped with a harmful vigor, and vision was obscured just outside of where they stood.

Zhennavieve remained poised and unbothered. Uziya was freezing.

He raised his wand to counter the spell, though the quivering of lips and the clacking of teeth made the attempt far more difficult. Zhennavieve was a master Illusionist, and was compelling him to see what she wanted.

He steeled his will and fought back, his wand slicing through the air as fires suddenly formed all around them, a half dozen flames materializing and bathing the area in a welcomed warmth, though it was the fire that ignited directly beneath the Mistress of Illusion that was his focus. If she wanted to be the target of his spell then so be it.

She looked down, a for a brief moment Uziya saw the shimmer of fear in her dark eyes, though that quickly subsided even as the length of her gown caught on her fire. The flames quickly rose, along with her eyes, and with petite steps she exited the fire and made her way toward him, the alluring seduction of her gaze even more enticing as she was consumed in flame. Her gown melted away, revealing bare flesh beneath, and quickly she was freed of the garment and wore nothing but succulent skin beneath.

Uziya tried to disbelieve, tried to suspend the tangible essence of what shown before him, but had a hard time keeping his eyes from sliding down in observation of her unveiling. He couldn't contain the urge to examine the creamy, flawless skin that coated her voluptuous endowments, unable to ignore the darkened hue of large nipples or the tender verge of silken hair nestled between sensual thighs. "Fascinating, isn't it monsieur?" She purred, her step not halting until she was flush with him, her body pressed against his ridged lines of masculinity. "That you've been compelled by reality and not deception." She gave him no time to answer as she tilted her head and arched up on the balls of her feet to cover his mouth with hers.

Startled, he nearly recoiled away from the kiss though was unable to gain any ground. She was upon him, the sweet taste of her lips sliding softly against his mouth as her tongue lolled forward in salacious exploration. A sound emerged from him that was lost in the kiss; lost like his restraint. He surrendered, though it was to more than just her, it was to his own willpower, as his arms curled around her, deepening the kiss. It was passionate and lacked any debauch incentive until his right hand dropped with a fluid sweep along her spine to cup her buttocks and squeeze, drawing her even closer. Those intoxicating curves were constricted tightly, gifting him with the sensation of her thrumming body entwined with his.

"Monsieur Grazuul." She moaned, breaking away only to whisper his name before quickly rekindling the kiss.

The way she said his name only fueled him more, sending stout hips swaying forward to reveal the consequence of their embrace.

"Monsieur Grazuul." She whispered again.

Once more he deepened that passion, his tongue matching the fervor of her own.

"Monsieur Grazuul!"

Uziya blinked, and nearly stumbled forward as his arms were suddenly empty and offered no support to his aggressive undulation. His hand cupped nothingness and his tongue licked at the open air - where once there had been Zhennavieve LaCroix now there was only unfilled space.

Zhennavieve stood across the room, having never moved a step, and watched the apprentice Illusionist with amusement dancing along her preternatural eyes. "It would seem you fell victim to a rather simplistic illusion." She said, eliciting a collective giggle from the students who watched from outside the ring of desks.

Uziya, a bit embarrassed by what he knew had just been enacted and witnessed, straightened his uniform and took a rather statuesque stance before her, ready to receive whatever punishment or reprimand she saw fit for so terrible a display.

And yet all that he received was a magical whisper from the Mistress of Illusion who had yet to move.

"Which says more about your own desires than my abilities, Monsieur."

Uziya blinked and fought back the gasp that sought to leap free from his lips, watching her eyes, watching as they slowly bled downward along the contours of his muscular chest to dip below his belt in thorough examination.

He didn't follow, he didn't have to, the aching clench painfully felt below.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-02-08 19:17 EST
{Chamber Calendula}


Albion listened. It's what he did.

When they came through the teleportation gate it took everything in him to break the intense surge she incited inside him. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him, and when they kissed he nearly melted into the primal urge, forgetting why they were there.

But the weeks building up to the talk had been taxing on a number of levels and Albion had heard a myriad of sides and interpretations, and he wanted to hear what Quilly had to say about them, about him, about...everything.

He found restraint, summoning the stone-like discipline that had made him a successful wizard throughout the years, and split away long enough to convey his desire to learn her point of view on the things that had transpired.

As she moved to the bed and sat he waited, not trusting his own quivering hands or thumping heart at that time. He slid his jacket from his shoulders, letting it slip down lengthy arms to be caught in deft fingers. He moved away at first, hanging it upon the hook that had been designated as its spot before returning to join her on the bed, claiming the spot beside her, composure returned.

He listened.

Quillyan's first sentiment regarding the knowledge surrounding Mistress Vesper's ploy to mate Saphira with the Denubae was hard to hear, and as she incriminated herself his dark emerald eyes hardened with a pain that was physically visible

Emotion began to invade logic. Saphira had condemned Quilly long ago and it seemed that there was just cause. Realizing that empathy was infiltrating reason, Albion tightened his hands upon his lap and continued to watch, continued to listen. He would hear her out.

The mention of Jolie only heightened this ire. He recalled her taunting him in the library and warning him to stay away from Mystri and Saphira, how she had been so vengeful in her mocking tone. She tried to provoke his fear, tried to goad his unrest, and it had worked.

He should have guessed that she would go after Quillyan. It only made sense. He had ignored her warning, refusing to abandon two that he cared for so much, and in turn she went after the one that he...
New Year's.

He recalled the night. Recalled how he had felt the tension in the air. How thick it was to enter into the commons and tangibly taste the trepidation hovering about. He agreed with Quillyan, it all did seem aimed at her. He remembered how aggressive she had been, how sensual, and how good she felt, and yet there seemed to be something else lingering just beyond the periphery. As though she was trying to prove a point. Possessive, and yet he hadn't minded. He nearly reached out and took her hand then, fond of those memories, but once more found restraint.

Her recount of her trip to the Faepact Warlock's cottage elicited a myriad of emotions. Fear, concern, anger, compassion. He was angry that she would go without talking to him first, understanding that such a demand was nearly inane. She didn't owe him that. But still, he was angry, and fearful. Vesper was not one to trifle with. Quillyan had visited and made it away without any sort of debt - a feat in and of itself. Compassion came from the madness Vesper surely tried to instill. There were few so full of lunacy as she.

He listened.

Hearing about Saphira and hers interaction was hard, if only because he felt somewhat responsible for Saphira's condition. It had been he that convinced the Lycan to allow him to see her change so that he could try to find a cure for her uncontrollable transformation. It had been he who thrust them - Albion, Mystri and Saphira - into danger out of the incessant need to find answers. And as Quilly recalled Saphira's madness, a madness that he related to Vesper, he once again felt guilt.

A guilt that was now edged with the trials Quillyan had been put through.

At her conclusion he looked away, a small shake of his head sweeping that verdant hood of silken claret hair along his shoulders, denying the tempest of emotions that sweltered inside. He swallowed, and it felt as though a rock was jarring his throat. He said nothing, drawing in long exhales that were patiently bled out of parted lips.

Emotion and logic.

Logic and emotion.

He reached out slowly, crossing the slight distance between them with searching fingers that were eager to find her hand, and when they did they closed around her. He cupped her palm gently as his thumb made a soft pattern along the back of it, rolling over flesh and veins. He blinked away the rush, breathed away the clench, and turned to face her fully.

"I have a hard time with this sort of turmoil. I didn't have a lot of friends growing up and watched a lot of those that I considered my family come and go - as is the life in an orphanage - and because of that I think that I take on these loyalties to the people I love that is sometimes a bit unrealistic." He paused as he tried to formulate words. "It hurts. All of it. It hurts to hear that you knew about Vesper's plan and that you didn't tell me. It hurts to know that this thing between you and Saphira is real. It hurts..." He reached up with his free hand and with the back of it brushed some hair from her eyes. "It hurts to see you hurt.

"I struggle with the concept of inexact theory. My ideas are wrapped around formula, and the dissolution of such formula when the situation calls for it. Fact and reason. Logic and verity." He smiled. "And yet here I am with you, trying to figure out the right formula to make all of this work, even when none is prevalent. I care deeply for you, and for my friends, and I get excited thinking of a day when we can all sit together and not be bothered by such things." He nearly laughed. "Though that seems rather unrealistic. Some people just don't get along. I know this."

The hand that held hers tightened and he drew her near, releasing her if only to slide his arms around her waist and draw her into a tight hug. He held her, held her close, held her so that he could speak softly to her. "I know you didn't try to hurt anyone. I know this. We'll get this all figured out. I promise."

He held her for a brief moment, allowing whatever emotions that loomed a chance to emerge and be stifled, and again spoke. "I need you to tell me about Jolie. I need you to tell me everything she's done to you." He tilted his head and kissed her gently on the ear before sliding back just enough to find her eyes.

"Everything."

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-02-08 20:34 EST
It slid wetly from his back, the slurping sound of my blade?s removal a lover?s kiss of vengeance.


?It was good seeing you again, cousin.?

He fell forward, a heavy collapse of muscled flesh, the potent smell of arcane energies still burning the nostrils.

I stepped over him, one long leg after the other and moved through the silent house. Death was all around me. I could taste it on the air. Bodies littered the opulent house in obscene displays of discarded life.

To stand between my family and I was to invite an intense and vital reaction to say the least. His staff had paid dearly for their insult.

With willowy grace I slipped amongst the carnage like a spirit departing. Down the stairs that had been my entrance into the macabre and hesitating only in the kitchen.

Why not?

With an amused laugh that was girlish and out of place in a kitchen bathed and splattered in blood, I moved toward the ice chest and removed a few items with the careful air of the shopper.

Stepping on the crimson soaked hair of the disembodied head of his cook, I picked the choicest selections of prepared meats and placed them in a bag.

From his private selection of bloodwynes the choice of three bottles was easy and I even went so far as to lift some of his dinner and glassware.




Later in my rooms at the Institute that night I sat by candlelight and sipped from the wineglass I had stolen, the roasted human meat a delicacy I had a hard time encountering outside of our once shared world. Lifting my purloined chalice to my lips I stained them eagerly, pausing only to lift my cup high and charmingly toast, ?To you dear Cousin, may your remains be feasted upon by rats.?

It had been a glorious day.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-02-08 20:45 EST
It was a different sensation. Beyond all the preconceived notions regarding waking up with two women in bed, it was just...different. It was hot, really hot, but not nearly as lewd as he thought it would be. Granted, Xera was as far from a one night stand as possible but even with that said which obviously meant it was abotu more than just sex, but even still, it was more...

...just more.

He could see it in her eyes when they talked. She wasn't just there for just the physical parts. She wanted something more, a connection, and so did he. Even though he was with Ozzie he knew that there was something between him and Xera, something beyond sex, and he didn't feel bad because he was pretty sure that Ozzie was feeling it too. The three of them just seemed right together.

There were times when he thought that the situation would finally come crashing down on his shoulders, like when Ozzie came back from a late night study session with Brais Galician to find Blizz and Xera snuggled up on the couch making out. He figured that would be the end of it, that she would see them there without her and would freak out.

Nope.

She just danced across the room, plopped down between, and joined in.
Fascinating seemed a bit precocious, and yet oh so fitting.

"So what about that Alaric guy?" Jannara asked in her quiet, accented tone. "He's ...nice."

Blizzard laughed as he placed the bleached ulna bone beside the radius. The skeleton they worked on was nearly complete. "Is he? Six months of watching you wandering around and whispering to yourself and finally you open up ? I should have guessed that all this school needed was a Granger to get your attention."

Her mouth made a tiny 'o' shape before she turned away to hide the traces of red that stained her pale cheeks. Blizzard laughed, reaching his hand across the table to hover above the skeleton's sternum. "Humerus."

"Hardly." She snorted. "It wasn't even that funny."

It took him a moment, though when he got it he laughed. "No! I mean Humerus! The bone!"

She startled, her blush now furious, and frantically went to work picking at the silver tray where the assorted bones had been laid out. Finding the requested specimen, she drew the long item from the small table and turned, handing it to him. "You did that on purpose."

"I'm innocent, I promise."

"So says the man with two women."

It wasn't difficult to hear, in fact it made him smile. The only real awkwardness was the way people said it. "So says the man with two women." He confirmed proudly.

"How does that work exactly? I mean..." She giggled, ending with a small snort. "Who does what when it's time to-"

"So not talking about this." He said as he carefully placed the bone below the edge of the clavicle.

"Alaric or your little trinity of fun, Blizz-man. I'll let you make the call."

He glanced at her. She was older than him, maybe a touch beyond thirty, and yet still looked youthful despite the flare of alabaster hair that shaded the front of her purple tresses. A supple body wrapped in the trimmings of a Mage's uniform, she was not the sort that flaunted her station. In fact, it was because of this that she agreed to help him with the building of his skeleton in the first place.

Oh, and it was oddly funny to hear her refer to him as Blizz-man. Normally younger students endeared him as such.

"Yea, Alaric. Great guy. I think he's going to take a swing at being an Abjurist." He used magic to straighten the neck vertebrae, not wanting to damage it with curled fingers. He paused for a moment and looked off, thoughtful. "Though I tell ya what, we had this little thing in Mistress Crazyrobes class and he moved pretty good. I bet he's a fighter of sorts." He nodded to himself and re-administered the magic.

"Mistress....Crazyrobes?" She scoffed before bubbling into a snorting chortle. She didn't even have to ask to understand that Blizzard was talking about Mistress Lillura. "That is absolutely awful, Blizz. Just awful!"

"Awful?" He smirked as he took the skull and placed it atop the straightened neck, completing the entire foundation of the skeletonised body.

"And here I thought it was...humerus."


Ozalynne

Date: 2011-02-09 19:11 EST
An Encounter Outside of Smout'n's Hall

He stepped in front of her again and she bounced back a step to keep their bodies from touching. Rolling her eyes she giggled, ?Fee-lllix.? His name was a drawled complaint.

?Now Ozalynne.? He grinned, a slow snide representation of unnatural intentions, ?We just want to talk.?

The silky quality of his voice was a hangman?s noose, chillingly cold and harsh despite his attempts to sound pleasant. Deliberately he stepped into her path and crowded her back against the wall with his body.

?We?? Ozzie was distracted by his plural intonation and looked about to see who was with him. This distraction afforded the larger student the opportunity to corral her where he desired.

A snicker joined Felix?s and another sighing laugh purred from the darkness that suddenly revealed itself to be magically created.

She tilted her head, sending a sprawl of blue hair down her shoulders.

White teeth gleamed as he shared his agenda: ?Rumors have it that you?re into sharing.?

She revealed a cottoncandy sweet smile, ?Oh you can totally borrow my book.? Swinging her backpack from her shoulder and slamming it into his unexpected chest as she dropped to a crouch and rooted around inside it.
A little off-balanced by both her reaction and the slight blow Felix stumbled back a step, only to allow his gloatingly dark smile to emerge at the sight of that blue head bobbing before him, ?It?s not your book we?re after Ozalynne.?

An unholy light gleamed in his eyes as he stepped into her deliberately again. He wanted to ask about the late night meetings with Brais. But not with his companions there. For now this was simply about a physical interest, but he had high hopes of twisting this nasty little escapade into so much more to further his own gains.

Ozzie's fingers had closed around her textbook and was struggling to pull it free when it unsnagged itself abruptly. The force of her tug brought it upward at a quick pace and she inadvertently slammed it into his crotch. Felix dropped as if the air had been drawn from his lungs, a squeaking sound of horrified pain emitting from his lips.

Wide candy-blue eyes lifted toward his doubled over form in shock and Ozzie murmured, ?What were you standin? so close for??

Murderous his eyes narrowed upon the source of his pain and he lifted a shaky hand to send his companions lurching in her direction.

?It was an accident!? Ozzie shouted, coming up fast, in blur of motions, her sea-foam green legwarmers flashing on the air as she darted up it as if steps had appeared: levitation an easy ability for a sprite to access.
?Look! I?m sorry really! I didn?t mean to! Just leave me alone.? As one foolish hand wrapped around an ankle she responded with the training that Brais had worked hard at instilling in her. Her other foot lashed out to split open a fiercely grinning mouth. A twist in the air, sending her end over end, blue hair flashing about as she delivered a spinning kick to his companion for good measure.

With a huff, she stopped, floating. A vengeful little sprite. One hand upon her hip and the other making a wagging finger in their felled direction, ?Now you listen here boys.? She sang sweetly as she hovered over the three groaning students. ?I have decided that we are not going to be friends.?

She harrumphed.

?I don?t like you and I?m not sharing anything with you.?




And that, is as they say, was that.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-02-09 19:42 EST
The Morning After Duels

Ilyona was a friend.

She adored the sweet childhood friend of Damien's and when she'd discovered her upset over her new roommates...well...Vliss was tired of simply taking life's twists and turns with a pleasant smile on her face.

It had been a wonderfully assertive night for herself. She'd left the schoolgrounds, journeyed to the Islands and actually cuddled with Damien in public and then she'd returned to their rooms, Together.

Riding the high the next morning she'd slipped into Ilyona's rooms after they'd left for the day. It had taken only a short matter of time for an Earth Elementalist of her skills to undermine the foundation and to open the small trickle of water into a source of a major issue.

It was hours later while she was sitting in Illusion Studies that the news came. Sylvaticum Wing had fallen in on itself, the damage was extensive and rooms would be shifted to accomodate the remodeling needs of the school.

She may have dropped a sweet natured and passingly encouraging word to Natolii that Ilyona was hungering for female companionship...

She was glowing later that day while she waited for Damien to get back to their suite. Of course she hadn't expected a new roommate for them out of it, but they'd weathered Ashriel just fine.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-02-09 22:13 EST


She was soothed.? As his hands had found hers, as he haltingly harmonized whatever emotions knit his brow in such conflict, as he spoke words that she doubted she completely understood, the realization slowly dawned: he would forgive her.?? Plaguing?tension cautiously surrendered, trusting instead the closeness of his embrace and the whispered vow: ?We?ll get this all figured out.? I promise.????????????????????????????????? ??????

"I need you to tell me about Jolie. I need you to tell me everything she's done to you... Everything."
?
A blushed bottom lip fell slack in bewildered contemplation, for his request surprised her.? She considered Jolie a peripheral influence, perhaps a malicious annoyance, but ultimately insignificant.?? There was no cunning in Quillyan?s gaze: no craft or art, a mere sincerity.? ?Jolie,? she repeated thoughtfully.?

Unconsciously, a free hand drifted to the slender column of her throat, fingertips lingering there in an innocent pose not unfamiliar to sculptors, artists, and other observers. Eyes, sparkling with the recent memory of tears, dropped to the expanse of the bed beneath them, then lifted casually to the ceiling above -- remembering, recalling, and reorganizing a jumble of memories half-twisted with the wickedness of emotion.

?She?s all talk, Albion. She makes threats, and she acts tough, but she never actually does anything. I guess once you just expect her to be a terrible bitch, she isn?t that bad. I see her almost every day during class, and she?s never done anything to me. In fact, she handles all the -? She pauses, repulsion framing the tentative syllables, ? - gross stuff in Smout?n?s class. I?m not too fond of actually touching the corpses. In fact, I don?t like much of anything about the class, but Jolie?s pretty good at all of it, so I just kind of...? A guileless lift of her shoulders accompanies: ?...follow along."

?After the night I saw her crying in the hallway, I guess the most significant conversation that we had was here, in our room, about how I couldn?t help her seek revenge against Saphira. She pushed me up against the wall and warned me against backing out, but then she just left.

?The only other thing I can think of is one evening when I needed to borrow a book for an assignment. She was being brisk, brushing off my questions, and we came here again --?

Amazement lingered in her sudden silence. Seconds of nothing, heavy and infinitely unsettling, hung in the air.

A thick line of lashes fluttered over eyes fixed firmly in memory.

?And I opened the door.?

She hadn?t forgotten what happened. In fact, the memories were remarkably vivid, their devastating color and sensation sending the cold fingers of a creeping chill along her elegantly curved spine. They were pages of a book that had been stuck together -- still there, but skipped and unnoticed. Unread, but stark and quite real; important and mysteriously overlooked.

Disorientation reintroduced her vexed sorrow, shivering hands seeking the comforting claim of his body - one resting upon his chest, the other upon his thigh - as her wide and worried eyes sought a response in his expression.

?She bit me,? said she, incredulous. ?How did I forget that?

?And I let her!

?Why did I do that?? she mused skeptically, a brief and dubious shake of her head emphasizing the uncertain words. ?I listened to her apologies -- she was apologizing for her anger, for saying I was talentless. She said she was lonely. Her hands, they touched my face, and my hair - her fingers threaded through my hair, and it was very comforting -?

Quillyan couldn?t quit speaking now; the clumsy stream of words was a fluid and unstoppable account of entirely surprising memories.

? - she kissed me, and told me that I was lovely. Her lips were cold, Albion, and she tasted faintly of dust, but I kissed her back. I didn?t mind at all, even as she kissed along my jaw, and my neck. Her hands held me tightly, and she whispered that no one would know, that she wouldn?t leave marks anyone could see. She slipped around, behind me, and pushed my hair aside, and bit me on the back of my neck.

?It really hurt, but I didn?t cry out, and then...?

Almost inaudibly, ?Oblivion.?

A breath: slowly drawn, held gently, released.

?And then Xera was knocking at the door, and you were drunk. And I never thought of it again. Wow.?

Upon the novice?s angelic visage, the pallor of pure shock had been ousted by the guilty warmth of a rosy blush. A shameful little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she searched for the proper words, seeking some sense of logic to amend this odd transgression.

Eyes, a turbulent spring sky, sought his.

?Wow,? she could only repeat before relinquishing the gaze for an embrace, collapsing against him, cheek laid upon the solid structure of his chest, arms curled possessively ?round his middle. ?I don?t know if any of that is really important, though. I don?t think it?s related to...any of the other stuff.

?How could it be...??

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-02-09 22:30 EST
{Dianthus Wing - Tiatari, Angelica}

Crimson eyes trailed along the convex of her spine, studying it closely from the nape of her neck all the way down to where it disappeared beneath the sheets that lazily veiled her lower half. Uziya watched her sleep as often as he could, a bit fanatic with the rise and fall of Tiatari?s chest in tranquil slumber to the point where he reached out and let the tip of his right index finger follow suit, grazing the naked flesh of her back.

She stirred, though only lightly, and expelled an unintelligible murmur. He watched the crease of her mouth, the way it almost formed a smile, and took it as a sign of victory. When awake those smiles were somewhat hard to find, managed mostly if he were able to work in an arcane formula or equation. That?s why he liked watching her sleep, it was easy to birth those grins. With just a touch he could bring her a dash of joy, and whether she liked it or not he was the reason for that smile.

Thoughts drifted to the discussion he had with Fleur just a week before during thier advanced component classes that Marius Mistmark was forcing her to take. They had snuck off to a closet and found themselves immersed in a rather candid conversation about their relationships.

He was pretty sure that he surprised her with how open he was in admitting that he knew Tiatari was sleeping with someone else. He could see it in her eyes when he spoke of such adultery, knowing how close to home that struck. She called herself the ?other woman? when referring to the entire affair with Master Mistmark, and constantly shuddered when such an endeavor was even hinted at.

They talked about her and Brais, though that conversation somehow shifted to Brais and Vliss and the misunderstanding Fleur had regarding the bond Vliss carried with her lovers. Fleur had been under the impression that when Brais broke off the relationship that Vliss would simply find another to fill the role he vacated, and it nearly killed Uziya to be the one to explain exactly how devout Vliss? innate bond was toward those she took to her bed.

Fleur was hurt. It was obvious.

Through it all, however, Uziya found himself questioning his relationship with Tiatari. Not the mainstream cast of it ? they were together and that?s the way he wanted it ? but to the extent in which he limited his more recreational flirtation. He had once been the playboy of Stormsabre, the one who ignited parties and pushed the boundaries of decency all in the name of a good time, and yet since his pairing with Tiatari he found that reputation had died off to resemble nothing more than a husk of what once was. He didn?t even go to the parties anymore, curse the gods.

And it dawned on him as to why he looked forward to those sessions beside Fleur. She had come up with a ploy to show Marius that she had moved on, and in the scheme Uziya was required to fill the role of the lothario. They petted heavily, kissed even with passion that reflected heat and arousal, and her weight had found a comfortable and consistent spot upon his lap. He enjoyed it, as he had long ago.

He felt alive. He felt like him again. He needed that in a way. He needed to be free of the restraint. He didn?t wish to take lovers or hop from bed to bed, but the constraint he placed upon himself in the name of coupling had taxed him to the point of emotional weariness.

He rolled into Tiatari and gently placed his lips upon her temple, kissing her softly. Fingers fell beneath the sheets and gently stroked her pert backside and supple thighs. Again she stirred, though this time the sound that emerged was something more akin to hunger, yet still she slept.

Slipping away, he stood and made his way across the room, the silvery glow that bled through the open window bathing his naked flesh in its mystic glow, obstructed only by the donning of his robe. He made his way to the door and drew it open; silence his ally as he stepped through and closed it without a sound.

Angelica.

He hadn?t expected to see her there, though should have known. The daughter of the Headmistress was infamous for a near insomnia-ridden nightlife and required only a few hours of sleep. From the darkness he watched her as she moved with a lethal stealth across the living area to the kitchen, the nubile allure of her toned body a joy to watch in motion.

Their relationship would be volatile, though incredibly passionate. She was a bit of a spoiled thing who was determined to always get her way, and he was an Illusionist, more than willing to show her everything she desired; real or not. She was physical, strong, and combative, and he was sly and slippery, able to glide free from even the strongest grasp.
When she bent at the waist to retrieve something from a bottom cupboard he stared, and when he realized what he was doing he shook his head to snap out of it.

Realizing that hiding from her was impossible he strode across the room with an intentionally audible step, and when she looked to see who it was he simply offered a thin and breathtaking smile along with a wink. He moved to the door and exited the room, though not before glancing back to take one more look.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-02-09 23:01 EST
Perception, Rumor...

The princess and the prince were spoiled...

Because their mother was the headmistress, they got what they wanted, and didn't have to work for a thing.

... If only they knew the truth.

Before the age of 20 she and her twin had already seen the front lines of combat. They have had to already endure assassination attempts, wars and general strife.

Spoiled was not something she was allowed to indulge in. Her mother took after her grandfather more than she cared to admit. The old general was part of an army used to invoke nightmares in disobedient children. The bogey man had been very real and very cruel. Her mother may not be cruel, but she was a stern taskmaster.

Her dual nature allowed her to get away with little sleep, though in truth she was very much lonely. Yes, she was seen on a few occasions with Elkinid'qualn, they were in the process of figuring things out. And Mercedes' current state of mind left her very uneasy. Toss in the fact that they now have that Viperfang Vampire as a roommate...

One would have to be blind to not realize she was being observed. The smile given in return. Though she dared not tread that path. Honor had a way of making life difficult and she wouldn't do anything to hurt Tia.

Life was rarely fair.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-11 13:31 EST
Unexpected Insights
Act I

She was already in a mood when Brais had strode into the Commons and demanded to speak with her.

The skin-crawling tension over the last week had her seeking out the calmingly relaxed presence of Blizzard, her hockey partner always seemed to put her in a better mood with his easy congeniality that didn't rely upon much of a response from her.

Brais' dark eyes were focused upon Mystriana with an attention not normally awarded to Novitiates - as was the case in Blizzard, who didn't even get spared a glance. He moved to where she sat, his head step coming to an end just beside her, so that his intelligent survey could examine he with a surgeon's thoroughness. "Novitiate DeSabre." He said, his tone subconsciously venomous. "We need to speak."

A tilt of her head nearly sent it sideways, the spill of pink tipped platinum strands falling across one shoulder left naked white as the sleeve of her novitiate's uniform shirt had slipped free from it, buttons left undone in her unconcern. There was a dangerous air about her, as if she were considering disobeying, or launching herself at him, or falling into a fit of hysteric giggles. Her expression inhumanly unreadable. And then she unfolded lithe stems, untwining them from their clenching to push up in a glorious glide of womanly wantonness. It was wicked the things she could do to a simple walk. The normally predatorial prowl edged with the heat only an animal could bring. The challenge to both the males delivered with all the finesse of a slap. Provocative. Daring. Demanding. She moved for the balcony, the flimsy excuse for a school girl's skirt playing about the rounded shape of her ass. "Be right back Blizzard."

Brais followed her to the balcony. Sable eyes were cast downward in mild examination of her lithe form once more, though emerged to settle upon her gaze. "How are you feeling?" It might have been mistaken for concern, though the tone was so harsh and clinical that it lacked any semblance of emotion.

She leaned a hip against the balcony's rail, the moon an eager lover as it draped her milk white skin in a creamy sheen. Those thinly arched brows were drawn together at his question, no matter the abrupt tone, she knew Brais well enough now to recognize that him asking was shocking enough. The silver ring in her brow glinted dangerously as she tilted her head back to keep his patrician features in view. Her petite frame always appearing taller until intimacy revealed her stature. This close, it took the surrender of her neck to give him her gaze, her head dropping back in a supplicating pose that exposed the slender length of a swan's neck. How was she feeling? It was ludicrous the visceral reaction she had to that question, the myriad response a conflagration of emotions she had no familiarity in controlling. There was a hint of panic in her mint blue eyes at having to confront the very reality of how she was feeling. Simply put. Out. Of. Control.

He watched her, awaiting her answer. It was amazing how the moonlight made his dark eyes come alive. Normally they were inky balls that held little in regards of light or texture, and yet when standing inside the silver shafts of moonlight those same lifeless orbs were glossed with a mystic sterling. Alive, as though he were meant to spend his life beneath the midnight glow, he watched her with an interest that was obviously deeper than he let on about. Hands drifted back to lace deadly, gloved fingers upon the small, just above his hips, stretching his broad chest out wide and flat to be licked across by the strands of creamy white hair that descended from his head. He stilled his thin lips, saying nothing. He did not wish to lead her. He wanted the truth.

"F-cked." And it was not a complaint but an honest assessment of her position. She turned away from those eyes and that body, their last encounter a sizzling vision that had her womb tightening in a very feminine response that she couldn't control. Her fingers slid over the railing and held taut as she leaned out over the drop with an eagerness that hinted at her constant driving need to run, to fly, to ...flee. Fight or Flight? The powerful claim on her soul was always there and too lately shefound herself hard-pressed to avoid it. "Where do I begin, Brais?" A snarl of self-deprecation whispering on the night's air. She wasn't a whiner. She wasn't a martyr. And she'd never 'confided' in anybody before.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-11 13:33 EST
Unexpected Insights
Act II

"At the beginning." His voice was stern, lacking any sort of sympathy. It wasn't what she needed, and he was willing to be it wasn't what she wanted either. It was obvious to him that she was teetering on the edge of primal instinct, and that the only way to rein her in was to expose her to someone with Alpha qualities, someone like him. He remained still as she turned and began to stroke the railing, his gaze dropping to the supple bow of her back, descending clear to the rolling swell of her hips and backside. Enticed, stimulated, though it wasn't in the normal sense. She was lustful, but in the way animals were. The way nature intended for men to be seduced. He tore his eyes away, sliding upward to rest upon the nape of her neck. "Why are you here?"

It wasn't fair really, the sweep of that skirt lifting to reveal the soft white globes of her naked ass beneath. The bow of her back a devil's playground, supple and whipcord thin though rippling with the athletic muscles that could writhe in sensual response. For now, the pink tipped snow white hair concealed the vulnerable expanse of her naked nape, and this was wise, for the sweetly vulnerable spot would be her undoing. It wasn't conscious. The lustfully inviting lean of her body. It was, as he thought, animal instinct. Fingers curled viciously around the railing and her strength revealed itself as part of the structure crumbled beneath her grasp. She spoke to the moon and unveiled herself to Brais. "Escaping." Her answer to his location question cryptic, but not purposefully. She had no basis to draw upon, no previous explanation of her methods. Rarely had she ever been asked. But his bade to start with the beginning gave her a way to release the torrent of pain, confusion, and ultimately...confused despair. She was losing herself when she'd never even been sure of who she was to begin with. "I'm losing control. It is no longer mine own. I feel things." Her body quivered. "I am assaulted from so many directions I can no longer brace enough for it."

He listened, ignoring the appeal of her body's sweet offering. While other's put in the same situation may have been memorized by the sight of such succulent flesh, he was far too focused on what was going on above her shoulders than below. He drew in a breath, one to settle and steady his resolve, causing the muscular lines of pectorals to tighten and become more defined beneath the sheath of his shirt. Eyes narrowed as composure was forced. "You are not that weak." He said, nearly a reverse accusation, as it couldn't be a straight compliment. "Control is easily lost, though just as easily harnessed with the proper teaching. Control resides within all of us, primeval and not, as does the ability to lose it. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for." He paused, eyes ascending to join her gaze upon the moon. "I've felt it."

She snarled, a low deadly sound at his compliment. "But it is weakness that comes at me. Tears at me." She whirled about suddenly, a fluid grace made decadent. "I have feelings that are not mine." And the petulance of the next statement was surprisingly immature. Shockingly childlike. Almost as if she sought a parent's soothing, "I threw up." Wide mint blue eyes lifted toward his regal features. "My very stomach rebels against me. Her pregnancy sickness invades me." She'd never experienced such a betrayal by her body before. Never had she lost the contents of her stomach and she'd been enraged, humiliated, and confused.

"A normal occurrence." He assured her, keeping his head inclined so that she could scold the inattentive profile of his angular visage. The baring of eyes was an important part to an animal, and he knew the moment he turned them upon her it would be a challenge. He didn't mind, and in fact the idea of presenting her with such dominance caused blood to race and tingle just below his flesh, but he needed her to open up more. That is why he continued to focus upon low hung moon, even as he spoke to her. "You are bound by magic, Mystri. You are bound by something out of your control that causes your body to react in ways that you cannot understand. But what you can control, what you can understand, is your own sense of survival, and all of that stems from instinct. To me, it seems as though you are trying to mix too many different ingredients into one pot. You need to take control. Period."

"And when I'm not assaulted by this ..this.." She didn't have the words to describe her reaction to morning sickness, she continued on instead, "I'm hot, wet, bothered and viciously needy. Saphira has taken to mating with Kish regularly." She was panting now, the floodgates opened. "I am crawling out of my skin with arousal, my body weeps in readiness, I can't look at a man without wanting to..challenge him." Her words had become laced with a honeyed purr. "I sate myself on my roommate with such violence that it is a wonder that she doesn't hide from me." She licked her lips at the thought of having to find Cadence, an unholy scalding heat filling her gaze at the excitement of such a game. "And these are simply the things my bond has done to me." Beneath this were layers of unease that she had not voiced. Wasn't sure she could.

"An easy remedy." He nodded, his stare continually afar. He could not deny the sound of her admitting such things did not stir the man inside him, after all, weren't they all just animals. Still, though, the control he preached for her to master was something that had become his slave long ago. "If she has taken to a mate then so much you. Have you stopped to consider that a way of channeling this chaos might be to mirror some of the things that she is doing, and in return you might find freedom in the undoing of them? She has taken a mate and so might you, if for no other reason than to severe that tie and break that part of the bind." He paused, drawing in another breath that etched ribbons of muscle along the material of his shirt. "It is my opinion that you are stronger than this bond, Mystri, and that you can break it by sheer force of will....if you believe."

"I have taken a mate." And therein lie the absolute despair that ate at her soul.

She was done. The painful rending of admitting those words aloud tore from her a gasp, part sob, part snarl. She didn't want to talk about it. Couldn't in fact. And instead, focused on yet another of her myriad problems, "Did you speak with anybody about our...sharing?"

His gaze descended, though it lacked the dominance he had thought it would. Instead, it was widened, a bit rounder, infected with surprise. He nearly asked the question lingering about his lips, though her shift in subjects was obvious. He steeled his wire thin lips, biting back the insistence that naturally come to the tip of his tongue, and instead slowly shook his head. "I haven't. Have you?"

"The vampiress, Jolie. She was in my rooms. She attacked Cadence. And I, in turn, attacked her." A fisting of her hands tore her flesh as her claws had emerged, tearing bloody little tear drops in her milky white palms. "She bargained against my punishment. Should someone know of my violence against a student, I'm ... at the FaeBitch's mercy. She asked for my blood. But it will do her no good. The stupid leech doesn't understand that it is my feeding that will truly inject her with the power she sought. A power only you knew about." And she leveled him with that gaze. And he was right to have averted it from earlier. The heat of the challenge was there. Daring him. Almost mocking his masculinity if he didn't make an attempt. Provocative and Primitive. She knew what she was doing even as she could barely control it, and a sweep of the dark fan of her midnight lashes attempted to veil that smoldering mint blue pool of chaos.

Having had his own run in with Jolie, anger welled in his ebony stare as Mystri recited the events that transpired. He would be paying the fanged b***h a visit soon enough. He was strong enough to ignore the temptations of her body, rejecting the natural occurrence and rush of blood that the sight of her infused, though it was the lines of blood that drew his attention and caused that steel wall of determination to waver. How beautiful and delicious those lines looked. How tempting and appealing. He slid a step closer, and then another, his gaze locked upon her arms as his hand swung forward to shackle her around the wrist. "You shall keep this to yourself, and do not worry about Jolie. I will deal with her." It was nearly a promised breathed across her arm as he lifted her wounded flesh upward toward his eyes....toward his mouth.

"A blood licker are you?" It was sharp and cutting, but only because her body's response had betrayed her yet again. Supple, fluidly languid, her limbs had weakened at the shackling of her wrist. Normally an immediate challenge would've been issued, but it was a passively beckoning lean that slid her naked ass against the chilly railing that had earlier been kissed by snow. Her breath hitched in her throat, her chest filling and holding on one desperately expansive inhale. "Before you I had never drank from another. And now I find myself beset with urges." It was yet another issue that was driving her mad and yet it wasn't said with the same air of frustration, pain or despair her earlier confessions had revealed. No, it was whispered on a womanly whimper. Her tongue slid around her teeth as she felt the fangs attempting to drop down from the roof of her mouth like a snake's, unfolding to drip the venom that was responsible for the euphoric expansion of clarity. "Brais." And it was certainly a warning. Or it was meant to be as it actually emitted on a throaty purl of pleasure.

He drew her arm upward, eyes fixated upon with a heavy weight. He watched as the visceral lines dribbled along the flesh, creating crimson rivulets that somehow were calling to his lips and his tongue. His throat clenched at the desire to tasting her blood, as she had him, returning the euphoric rush she had showed him. It was her words, 'blood licker', that snapped him back into reality. Eyes raised up to take hold of her gaze and with a violent snap he threw her arm back to her side. Orbs of merciless obsidian bore into her as he once again let his hands drift away to fold at the small of his back. "Why have you not drank from anyone but me?" He settled the flare of rage that he knew she could see in his stare by keeping his jaw clenched and his voice low.

She used the force of his throw to spin her body about and fluidly turned it into an agile leap, landing in a crouch upon the railing, slender feet finding a purchase on the slick railing that should've been impossible, fingers twining around it to hold herself steady though she apparently needed no such assistance."Because I am not a leach." Disdainfully. "I do not need to feed in such a fashion to maintain my existence. I would never have fed from you in such a way had it not been a necessity for survival." Their conversation had actually gone a long way to sorting out her issues. She'd been so overwhelmed by the lack of control that was coming from such a myriad assortment of directions that she had not fully confronted any of them.

"No." He said with a sense of finality. "You are not. And yet it amazes me that you consider yourself unable to control these urges. I know that it must loom upon your mind of how easy it would be to feed upon others. Yet you don't. This is the same control that must be applied to the rest of your existence, or else you will find that bestial chaos is all you will ever know." He took a moment to consider his next line of thinking, wondering if she had ever stopped to think about it. "You are a student here, and that is a privilege not a right. It is a privilege that could be snatched away with but a thought, and then you would have nothing." Another pause to recalibrate his suggestion. "Use what resources you have to help you and do so to the fullest of their ability, for they may not always be there for you."

After a moment he added. "You didn't tell me you had a mate."

"I have a bit of knowledge about that sort of thing." He said with a nod. "Vliss mates."

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-11 13:34 EST
Unexpected Insights
Act III

"It isn't like that." She scowled and pushed up to her full height, heightened of course by the railing she balanced upon as easily as a person could a floor. She paced the length of the railing and flounced around to prowl back the other direction, "I'm not like Vliss. My primal urges aren't such that I can't recognize a bastard for a bastard." She hit him with the force of her gloating glare on that one. "My problem stems from ownership. Not submission. Vliss is Yours until you do something about it." And how she knew that would have to be chalked up to the constant observation she maintained that no one ever seemed to know about. "I belong to no one."

"Yet. I feel that he is Mine. Another's scent upon him makes me want to bury my fangs," Her tone was growing more guttural, a growling purl of violence, her face rippling into a cat's maw, a tail suddenly aiding in her balance, snow white fur vividly compelling where it appeared to dust her milky white limbs, "in her throat, ripping the meat from her bones, feast upon her marrow...I want to rip her stomach open and pull out her insides as I burrow into the heat of her, rend her open and rip her still beating heart from her chest." It was excitement that had her glowing with that preternatural inhuman beauty.

The slap of her words drew slanted brows close together. "Though it would seem otherwise." He snarled as she shifted, sweeping that beautiful stark white hair along the lines of his devious visage. "If you belonged to no one then the problem you are having with Saphira wouldn't exist. You would simply go to your mate and be done with these urges except..." It was a startling realization as he formulated his own conclusions, which was only aided by her description of the factors involved. He let a low and exhale escape through his pursed lips before asking. "And does Albion know how grave this situation is?"

She stopped. Frozen. A slow turn of her head, swinging it to him like an animal would. She quivered. Her lips drawing back from fanged teeth. She didn't question his knowledge as he did not question hers. "Albion. Has made his Choice." And it hurt. She had no one to speak of such things to, voiced none of this aloud and had followed none of through to any conclusions as she'd sought to find her way amidst the avalanche of sensations she could not fathom. And there it was. And it crushed her beneath the weight of the revelation. The sound that emerged from her throat could not have been made by a human. The animalistic whimper of agony a traumatic sound to simply hear much less emit. She shifted rapidly, a blur of disastrous and tragic beauty, feathers sprouting in white fluffy down, only to be replaced by roughened fur of a wolf, sliding into scales of glittering gorgeous patterns and finally returning to the silken coat of the cat. It was death. The death of a shapeshifter that control slip so and she howled, bayed, whimpered, hissed, and roared. Finally subsiding into the cry of a girl. She collapsed beneath it. Hitting the rail hard as her balance was lost. Control found only through the sheer willpower that he insisted she possessed. Lifting bone-weary eyes to Brais, suddenly fragile in appearance, it was sharpened steel that edged her words. "I will survive all of this."

Joy was a rare thing to find upon that hardened visage. Fleur could summon it by simply entering a room, and Ozalynne could uncover it with her progression. It was rare...but it still existed. He watched her transform through all of those different shapes, relating it to a search in hopes of finding a form capable of dealing with such hardship. He knew she wouldn't find one, knew that what she was experiencing had little to do with her primal nature, for even the most intelligent of creatures could suffer the torment she currently did - heartbreak. When finally she appeared as that pretty little girl with the white and pink hair and the wide eyes his hands slid away to fall to his sides, and as he watched her the corners of his mouth slowly drew upward into the ghostly hints of a smile. That was when he reached forward, toward her, the closing of fingers taking her by her slender arms and drawing her into his broad chest. That was when he offered her the aid and strength of his form to help get her through this transition of not only mind and body, but of heart and soul.

That...was when he hugged her.

Revenant

Date: 2011-02-11 18:43 EST
Diplomat's Punishment

The knock on the door didn't wake them, but both the Cat and the Diplomat exchanged a worried look. Moir had been back to herself for a couple days, just starting to get back into the swing of things. Knocks on the door weren't good things, and Saph would just come in. Gold eyes locked on brown for a moment. "I think the time for repayment has come." The low alto would be audible, as well as footsteps.

Moir opened the door, quietly thanking the fact that she'd thought far enough ahead to change once she'd woken up, instead of later. Sartha stood outside. One of the few creatures who's features she couldn't read. Sam was only a couple steps behind her. "Come."

His command wasn't harsh, but it sounded angry. Moir nodded, falling into line behind him. A guess from his posture said that he was upset, but he always walked like that. He moved in that way all the time. That knowledge flowed from mage to familiar, a level of observation that both thought instinctive. They stepped into the office, the desk simple, strong wood and metal.

A bookshelf did hold books, varying sizes, shapes, and colors. It held only a couple things that were undefinable beyond that they were not books. There were only two seats-at least this time. The Diplomat took one, the Cat took the other.

Silence set in. He stared at them, and they stared back...For what felt like ten minutes. "I'm sorry. I know I broke the rules, I did it for a friend." Moir paused for breath. Gold eyes stared at her darkly. "They were having trouble, a gate seemed like the fastest way to get them to where they could be helped.? She paused for breath, Sam looked like she wanted to strangle her.

?They broke the gate, and I rebuilt it.. Trying to get them back to campus...Needless to say, it didn?t work, but, they?re okay now.? Her words softened as she finished out what she had to say, looking up to see that Sartha was glaring at her. The same way he?d been when he came to get them, no difference of expression she could notice.

She did notice that he seemed ready to speak, after a pause. Perhaps a beat of silence between her finishing speaking, and him beginning. ?Your first offense earned you a month of library or cafeteria work. You pick which. Your second earned you six weeks helping Marius Mistmark in component scut. However he deems fit.? The words were an edict, and as they stood he spoke again. ?Your third will earn you reporting to the Deaconess.? A unison nod from the girls, and they fled.

Once out of earshot, Moir shook her head, hard. ?Mistmark?? She shuddered.

Sam grinned. ?Hey, think of it as an opportunity to see if our hunch is right.?

?Just never thought it would be like this. Think those were to be served together?? Nodding, even as she said it.

((About a week ago, during the time she wasn't around at the Inn.))

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-02-11 23:12 EST

?
Grail bounded down the stairs towards the basement, sacrificing not a moment of thought to the incredible racket he was creating within the stark stone walls of the staircase.? He pushed through an antiquated iron door and wandered into the makeshift lab, his movements infused with the ease of one who reenacts a similar scene all the time.
?
"Heya Grail!" came the bright, sing-song?greeting.? Bryn's?pensive gaze?didn't stray from her book,?suspended by a?delicate hand at eye-level.??The girl's?other hand was also lifted, mirror-like, but clasping instead a vicious-looking, saw-toothed blade.? She stood before a table illuminated by a levitating gold orb and occupied by a grotesquely decayed hulk of a corpse,?humanoid in form but?far too rotten for easy identification of race, age, or specific feature.
?
The girl herself, well, she was a tiny little thing, her wisp of a figure making the implements she wielded seem almost comical.?
?
"Hmmmm," she purred with an inquisitive head tilt, and?her grey eyes squinted under the chic fringe of long bangs, studying a diagram in the tome.??For her work in the lab, she'd exchanged her apprentice jacket for a pale-pink camisole and?a feminine apron quaintly and straightly patterned with tiny, unopened rosebuds.?It had ruffles -- not too many, mind you, but enough to offer the illusion of curves to a chest bereft of gracious endowments. It was lightly splattered with something foul, the crimson droplets blending smoothly into the flower pattern.

?What do we have here?? Grail inquired, scanning the massive, macabre lump of decay, his curiosity borne half by a possessive and competitive lust for knowledge.

?Oh, a partial reanimation. Just trying to figure out what?s still working,? she replied casually. With a skeptical twist of her pearly-pink lips, she left the book to levitate open beside her, both hands posed to make her next incision, polished fingertips barely brushing the putrid mass of rotted tissue.

?Well, I wanted to pass along the message,? Grail returned, his voice a sly, conspiratorial chorus of secretive tones. ?Cinder?s asked several people to meet tonight to discuss some issues related to the House. We?re meeting after dinner in my room.?

The corpse shudders, and a hole that may?ve once been a mouth emerged, strings of slime webbing its gravelly moan.

?Quiet!? the girl squeals, the flat side of her blade slapping against the bottom half of the offending orifice. ?Can?t you see that mommy?s talking??

Bryn?s sparkling eyes lifted to Grail?s, a vacuous smile gracing her extraordinarily delicate features.

?I?ll be there.?

____

Later, Bryn caught sight of Chika on the main floor hallway, and her step hurried to overtake the sultry pace of the Cambion.

?Hello!? she exclaimed as she matched the other woman?s step, her visage an amicable mask. ?Have you heard? House meeting, some of us at least, Grail?s and Margot?s room. You should come!?

Having passed along the message with a sweetly-sociable smile, the slender stalks of her pale legs slowed, and she took the turn toward the Lilium Wing.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-12 00:18 EST
A gift part 1

Kish had been secretive for days, insisting she wasn't supposed to see the surprise he had been working on. Though there had been several times he'd had to hastily throw a blanket over his project as Saphira had chosen not to abide the request and sought him out. He could not complain much though, as every time she had sought him out it had been a most delightful experience. Her lust for him nearly insatiable and he found himself wishing she would seek him more often, even though she did so nearly nightly.

As a result his little project had been slow going. Between classes and his friends and Saphira's appetite for sex, he had gotten very little done, though he had worked almost nightly for a week. Now she slumbered peacefully beside him, curled into the crook of his shoulder, her arm over his chest possessively, her leg over on of his own. He tenderly smoothed her hair back from her lovely face, marveling that such a beautiful exotic creature was in his arms.

Saphira nuzzled into him murmuring in her sleep, something she did often. He had heard her speak of her friends, knew who was close to her and even had learned more fully about what was going on between she and Quilly. All from listening to her as she slept. There had even been nights he had held her tenderly as she wept, and not once had those glacial eyes opened. He turned his head to look at her more fully.

Pale. She reminded him of new-fallen snow, or a cloud on a particularly clear day. He let his fingers lightly graze over her cheek and down her slender neck in a light caress. He felt the change in texture just barely above where her fur started, where the flesh puckered strangely. He had learned the back of her neck was the same and often he had wondered at it. Fingers trailed lightly as he pondered her. He stroked her hair, her fur, letting his fingers glide through it, soft and luxurious. 'Chinchillas don't even have fur this soft.' He thought.

As his fingers wandered he noticed beneath the fur he could feel the strange texture of the skin beneath. Much more than the hint above her collar or the back of her neck. Almost her entire body had the strange feel to it. Saphira mumbled something and moved to lay on her back, never waking. Kish propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. Sometimes he wondered if this was a dream and when he would wake from it. He smiled softly, still stoking her body as she slept. His hand meandered over her shoulders, smoothing her breastbone and lowered to her belly where it rested.

She carried the Denubae's offspring, yes he knew this and yet it did not deter him. They'd discussed it many times. Her own lineage might even have offered some strength to the Denubae's weakness to water. Her own gentle nature might temper that of the beast. He knew how frightened she was Albion might have been right, and he admired her strength and courage to choose to keep it. She had said herself she could not kill a baby without first giving it a chance. His eyes flicked to the angry scar on her throat and he winced as he always did to look at it. He knew where it had come from. And also knew it was the very reason she had been so defiant, had clung to hope.

He had to admire her, anyone else would have surely taken the easy way out, would have gotten rid of it. But Saphira was stronger than she knew. It was her quiet strength he admired the most. He lay his head back down, his hand still lightly resting on her still-flat belly and closed his eyes. In the morning he would present his gift.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-12 01:14 EST
A gift part 2

Light filtered in through the cracks in the curtains bathing her face, which she promptly tried to bury in Kish's chest. Kish woke to Saphira's insistent face nudging and when she yanked the blanket up over her head he laughed. "I don't think that's going to stop the sun, Saph." He said with gentle amusement. Her reply was a groan of protest. Neither of them had early classes today and so had been able to enjoy the luxury of sleeping in. "Come on, Saph, is it really that bad?" A blanket muffled "Yes!" Made him burst out laughing. He slipped his hands under the blanket and pulled it up to get a look at startling blue eyes that were blinking sleepily back at him.

"Tell the sun it's too early.." She mumbled, snuggling up on him. She slid her leg over his hips and pulled herself atop him all while staying comfortably under the blankets. He grinned at her. "Too early? Well, then I suppose it's too early for your gift, too then." His smile turned decidedly impish. She groaned again. "I'm not awake.." He chuckled. She was often tired as of late but she was adorable about it and he could not resist teasing her a little. "Are you sure? You're talking awfully clearly to be asleep. I should know I listen to you almost every night." He knew that would rile her.

Her response wasn't exactly what he was expecting and she rubbed against him sleepily instead of retorting. He loved the feel of her furred body, particularly when she rubbed it against his own bare skin like that. His response was immediate. "Saphira.." his voice taking on a husky quality with his sudden need for her. "Mmmmm..." Sleepy she might be but she was quite aware of his arousal and it wasn't a few seconds later she joined them. His mouth had claimed hers hungrily, his hands delighting in her fur, the curvature of her lithe body. "Saphira." It was amazing how a single word could say so many things. 'I want you.' 'I need you' 'I love you.'

It was a slow, practiced dance. Each had become so intimately familiar with the other they could anticipate needs and wants without saying a word. Pressure here, muscles tensing there, a sigh, a moan, a whisper.
Twined together it was nearly impossible to tell where one ended and the other began, and they melded perfectly. Music. Sweet rapture his name on her lips as he brought her to the pinnacle of bliss and joined her there. His pulse thunder in his ears, his heart beating out the staccato of a thousand wild horses at gallop as they spiraled down together in a tender embrace.

"I finished your gift.." Murmured against her temple, inhaling her sweet scent. Gods he loved her smell. "...Oh..?" She was still enjoying the afterglow. His hands stroked her back gently. "Mmmhmm. If you'd like you can see. but if you don't want to.." He trailed off teasing her lightly. "Of course I want to see it, Kish!" Almost indignantly. He laughed softly. "Alright, but you're going to have to let me up, unless..?" His eyes sparkling with mischief. She laughed at him. "I want to see." She slid off of him and he sighed in mock disappointment. "I was rather hoping you'd take the other route." There was that grin again.

But he stood and grabbed his pants and slipped into them easily before moving across the room toward the lumpy large pile with the blanket strewn over it. Saphira followed him, stretching lazily and watching as he pulled the blanket off with a dramatic flourish. "Ta-da!" He exclaimed grinning. The blanket flew wide and the object beneath was revealed. A simple cradle with a moon carved on it. She caught her breath. "Oh, Kish! It's...I don't know what to say!" Looking at him with bright eyes. "It's beautiful!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Thank you." A heartfelt whisper. He smiled. "I was hoping you'd feel that way. I had to look up a few things, and ask a couple people for help. And not to mention I'm not a carver. I actually had have someone show me how.." She cut him off with another kiss.

"I love it." Softer. "I love you" His heart lurched in his chest. She loved him. She loved him. He wrapped her up in his arms tenderly, resting his lips against her forehead as he held her. "I love you too, Saph." His own proclamation whisper soft as he held her. And he was hardly surprised to find he meant it.

http://img844.imageshack.us/img844/2065/cradle.jpg

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-02-12 11:03 EST
The sun was setting, and with its departure so too did Ashriel resign. It was not a choice, not by any means, but a result of the curse that plagued his endless existence. Wrought from a battle fought ages ago, he was now the bearer of the burden. He was now the prison, and the inmate.

The Laurus Wing was extravagant, as he had imagined it would be. Damien and Vliss seemed nice enough, and were cordial in their initial meeting beyond the expected awkwardness that naturally existed between rival houses.

Viperfang was the premier house within the Institute and Stormsabre was one of its newest, and with how competitive the members of Viperfang were, it was only natural that they wanted to crush all of their opposition quickly. Viperfang didn't like Stormsabre, mostly due to how formidable the newest House was starting to look. Fleur Rousseau and her lot were making news and noise, and Viperfang didn't like it.

Ashriel, Viperfang's overseer, was responsible for the House as a whole. Its success was his, as was its failure. He wasn't as vengeful as Cinder, nor as sinister as Grail, though even he found that he liked the mantle that came with being part of such an elite faction and didn't want to lose it. He liked being the one in charge of the Institute's foremost House, and sometimes slipped into the more diabolical plotting to ensure it stayed that way.

But that only lasted as long as the sun was up. When the sun went down he went away...

...and Iameth returned.

He moved into his room, to his closet, and began to disrobe. Tunic and breeches, robes and boots, it was all removed and placed within slots and upon hangers until there was nothing left save for golden flesh and alabaster wings. The closet was walk-in, and as he turned to depart he couldn't help but glance at the assortment of attire that hung along the opposing wall.

Such a contrast.

It was night and day in more ways than one.

The bathroom was just as luxurious, large enough to accommodate the space of some dorm rooms, and was decorated in egg-shell white and trimmed with gold, sporting a variety of mirrors ranging in shape and size, as well as a stand up shower big enough for four and a smooth porcelain tub that could hold almost a dozen. It was impressive, as were all the Wings.

I was wondering when you would come.

Ashriel hadn't even made it past the door when the sound of Iameth's velvet voice floated across the air. It was far too smooth to be wholesome and held harmonic traces of the possessor's deceptive intent. He often imagined that it was how a serpent would sound if one could speak.

"Were you?" Ashriel fired back. "I would have thought you'd know by now that I cannot not return."

Oh that's right! I almost forgot, mighty Angel of Wrath. You have no choice. Like I, you are a prisoner.

Ashriel narrowed his eyes as he crossed the room, passing mirrors with a glance to see that where there should have been a gilded reflection there was instead amethyst flesh. "This is true, though that is our only shared trait."

You pain me with your slight, mighty Angel. The voice teased. And here I thought we would be brothers. That is how you describe me, isn't it? As your ...brother?

"If only to keep from explaining as to how I came to host such a menace within my body." Ashriel snarled the response as he stepped before the widest and longest of the mirrors, it's slanted sides offering a profile look along with the onward reflection.

It was not Ashriel who occupied that reflection, but the slender allure of the demon who lurked inside. Iameth, the scourge of accord.

Am I such a pox, then? Very well. Iameth said with a shrug, the splaying of his sensual lips showing a pair of vicious looking fangs. To be honest I couldn't care less as to what you think. You are no longer the paragon of light. You are but a shell of your former self. The punch-line to the God's greatest joke. He reached out with his hand and stroked his side of the mirror, leaving three smudge marks were he touched. Do not fret, dear brother. For I am with you in this curse, yet we are apart.

"As we shall always be." Ashriel could feel the air around him starting to thin and the scope of his vision beginning to cloud. Strength was seeping from his legs, though he forced himself to stay upright. He had gone through the change for nearly a thousand years and yet each time was like the first all over again.

The entire world was shuddering along the periphery, melting away as though wax burned from a candle. Throbbing, Ahsriel's head felt as though it would explode, the agonizing pressure threatening to rupture his ears and make his eyes burst.

And suddenly, it was over.

Ashriel slowly drew his gaze open, like curtains upon a stage, and looked into the mirror where Iameth remained. He could see the sprawling depths of the bathroom beyond him, could make out the details of the prosperous chamber, and yet did not find the same where he stood. There was nothing around him but white light.

Iameth stood inside the bathroom, an echo of the angle who was once there. With skin a dark purple, his hair was as black as night, as were the vicious horns that swept upward from his brow. Elongated ears extended - festooned with a handful of rings along the lobe and shell - and pupiless eyes and savage fangs divulged an infernal nature, though none of these features did so as clearly as the leathery wings that folded around him like a reptilian cloak. Scaled and always glistening as though moist, the devilish foils were a beckon as to his demonic nature.

Iameth drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before echoing the gesture executed by his imprisoned counterpart, letting his eyes drift open slowly. "It's good to be back." He slashed a grin across those lips and turned on a heel to begin out. He made it to the door and stopped, looking back to regard the Angel trapped inside the mirror.

"I only have a few hours. What's the worse I can do?"

The growing grin that followed told Ashriel that Iameth sought to find an answer to his question.

Esteban Velasquez

Date: 2011-02-12 12:04 EST
Ai de mi, life just wasn't fair. Between the moving, the arrival of not one, but two new roommates (one a tried-and-true spoiled little princess, the other ... Culo just scratches the surface), and that marvelous little incident in Ms. Van Blaudin's class, the Bard had taken to retreating into his room between classes. Best to stay out of trouble, and get this bit of punishment out of the way.

Realmente, not one, but five new songs about chastity and virtue? And all of them orchestra-level pieces? For giving a compliment?

Jotting down the finishing touches on ballad number four, his hand rasping over the growth on his chin he'd forgotten to shave away. Again. And yet, a thought percolated in that sleep-deprived brain of his, gaining momentum the more he considered it.

Oh, there's something bubbling beneath that icy surface. To paraphrase the "Barde" of old, and quite succinctly...

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

Piece number five might not be worthy of the opera, but by Christos, it's time, and long past time...

... Time for a party.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-02-12 16:19 EST
An Encounter, Act I


Unnoticed. It was amazing to her how easily she could slip through the school as though she were never there. A small smile tugged lush lips that just barely kept eviscerating teeth at bay. She hadn't wanted to be noticed, either. Not yet. Though she took a special pleasure in tormenting Sartha. She had taken to roaming the halls between classes purposely looking for the bull, to catch him unawares and purr his name seductively. The looks of rage and suppressed curiosity when he looked at her were delicious.

She enjoyed teasing him and had nary a qualm about flashing too much thigh, a glimpse of panty, or lack thereof. His growls and gruff words were delightful and she knew he was curious. It was a curiosity she had no intention to satisfy, at least not now. Perhaps once she'd driven him to the edge, if she could. It was the hunt, the challenge that thrilled her. The other students were as yet unnoticed by her. Presented little to no challenge. A siren's song would melt any one of them, male and female alike into a quivering pile of hot lust begging her to take them.

That was not what she wanted. She wanted to be defied. Fought. Resisted. Sartha gave her the entertainment she sought by doing just that, though she had no real intentions. It was then she'd stumbled upon Jolie who was tormenting another student after evening classes, dangerously close to sinking sharp fangs into an forcibly exposed throat. From the uniform, Almalthia guessed a first year. "Might be wrong." In that whisper, her sentences short and clipped to avoid danger of thralling someone she didn't care to.

"But think saw in orientation, not acceptable eat other students?" Jolie spun to face her, still gripping the whimpering girl's hair and hauling her along visciously. "This is no concern of yours.." Here she paused and looked the siren over and her tone changed. "Of course there are way around the rule willing exchanges.." Suggestively as she sought to exert her own thrall over Almalthia, not knowing what she was, but suddenly feeling hot desire for her blood, her sensual body. She released the first-year's hair and the girl scurried sobbing away, thankful for the intervention.

Almalthia studied Jolie a long moment, recognizing the attempt to befuddle her mind and dismissing it as amateur. "Might be so, but not look like she agreed. Might find willing if can, yes?" Jolie smiled slowly, mistaking the siren's disjointed form of speech to indicate idiocy or weakness. something she was too willing to exploit in another. "Perhaps so," She purred to the siren edging closer with a roll of slender hips and hunger in her dark eyes. She reached up to touch Almalthia's face sensually. Almalthia's eyes flickered from green to rose in amusement. Jolie seemed oblivious she was not succumbing to her charms.

Indeed she had assumed the siren's tolerance of her action due to her thrall. In reality Almalthia was merely waiting to see what she would do. Jolie pressed herself closer to the statuesque female so intent on that throat...her fangs slid from gum-sheathes, and her mouth almost watered. She could smell the blood just blow the surface, and it excited her. It was almost sexual, how she desired to feel the girl's body pressed hard against hers twined while she fed from her. Her concentration shattered apart when that slender neck suddenly moved Gills. What had seemed like smooth flesh had been where gills pressed so tightly flat as to appear like any normal flesh.

Jolie drew back with a sharp intake of air, though she didn't need to breathe. She sized Almalthia up who was still as stone. "What wrong?"
Her whispered voice amused and hard both. Her eyes were flickering through several colors rapidly, like some octopi changed the color of their bodies she did with her eyes. It was hypnotic, entrancing. Jolie was captivated. Perhaps this one might be fun. Almalthia mused. Jolie seemed to have a will to resist and dominate, both. Jolie watched those eyes with an intensity.

When they finally settled on deep blue she shook her head. "What were you saying?" She seemed confused a moment and had forgotten what she'd been doing and that she'd been interrupted when about to feed on a student. Something she should have been grateful for as she'd been warned about that. "Said should come with." It was an invitation, and Jolie nodded, her beautiful face still clouded. "Right, where are we going again?" Feeling excited still. Something about this girl made her feel particularly lustful, and not just for blood. Almalthia did not answer but turned and began walking, heading for her room. Jolie followed, somehow convinced this was her own doing, that her will and lure had dominated the girl. She could hardly contain the growing excitement. She intended to satisfy both her lusts with this female.

It was ironic, really, because Almalthia fully intended to see just how strong willed Jolie was. Intended to take her to the brink of the abyss and thrust her into it to see what would happen. All for the sake of the hunt. The thrill she got from being the predator she was. Jolie, was in for a night she would never forget. Almalthia silently ushered the vampire into her room and smiled at the cat-like audacity, the self-assured way she moved. It gave her pleasure to know she was about to strip her, in more ways than one.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-02-12 17:10 EST
An Encounter Act II

The door closed. It was final, the curtain call and Jolie had a back-stage pass. She advanced on Almalthia, slowly, more of a sensual prowl than a walk, fairly gliding. The two females were almost the same height and it would have been easy for her mouth to wetly caress that slender throat and draw sweet life to be suckled greedily. She could hardly believe her luck, as Almalthia seemed to welcome her with open arms. Clothes were shredded, torn away from both girls to expose creamy flesh, supple curves intimate treasures as they began a heated grapple. Hands slid over flesh, grasped and clutched impassioned, and both seemed to be consumed by a frenzy. Jolie's senses were assailed with pleasure, and she purred against Almalthia's mouth seeking to push her own tongue within to tangle with the siren's. Jolie was playing right into Almalthia's design.

The press of intrusive fingers demanding she surrender was met with a foggy submission and she parted her thighs for Almalthia's hand grinding heatedly into her. Her on hands slid over the siren's body possessively, convinced she was in control and dripping with her desire thrust almost violently onto the siren's skilled fingers. Through the haze she did not notice until too late her hands were bleeding But the venom was beginning to take effect in the few seconds it took to register something was amiss. She began to crumple to the floor, only to be caught by Almalthia's other arm, gripping her slender body with a strength that was unexpected. Her other hand still firm in the cusp between Jolie's thighs. Jolie started to squirm a little pressing against the siren, thinking to protest, but was surprised to find her muscles weakening.

She soon found herself laid upon Almalthia's desk completely naked as the siren stood above her. She couldn't move, her body wasn't responding and she felt high. The delirious pleasure was overwhelming her mind. Where she should have felt anger and rage for this attack she felt anticipation and desire. She observed distantly as Almalthia moved around the side of the desk there were thin bone blades protruding along her spine one of them still dripping with Jolie's own blood. The neuro-toxin on those blades had entered Jolie's system when she'd drawn her hand along one cutting herself. And yet this thought was muzzily pushed aside as Almalthia danced out of her frozen vision. She couldn't even follow her with her eyes. "Not worry,"Came the purred whisper of the siren. "Is temporary." The tone was sultry and vaguely reassuring.

Jolie lay there completely exposed and open as Almalthia moved around her, lightly dragging her fingers over that soft flesh. Every touch set Jolie's passion to burning higher and she could not even moan her pleasure, or demand her desire be quenched. It was a tortuously long time until Almalthia had completed her circuit and hovered above her exposing those razor-sharp teeth -more suited to a shark. 'I'm going to die.' Jolie thought. And somehow she wanted it desired to be consumed by this monstrous beauty. She would have closed her eyes to welcome her end, but could not even do that. It was not her end she met. The siren knelt between the supine vampire's limp legs, spreading them further to taste the nectar her fingers had draw forth before.

Jolie was still frozen, trapped in her own body and silently crying out in ecstasy. Tentacles that had been concealed in Almalthia's hair writhed now, wrapping around Jolie's helpless body, caressing, exploring, probing. Rapture. The only indication she'd been brought to sweet release was the reward that flooded hot from her core.

She blacked out.

**********

Jolie awoke in her coffin, dressed in one of the flimsy nightgowns she favored. She felt elated, rested and still high, her body exuding the sheen it did when she'd fed particularly well, she felt delicious. And she didn't know why. didn't remember anything from the night before, not almost attacking the student, and certainly not Almalthia. She went about the chore of readying herself for classes in a euphoric haze and for once was almost pleasant to her fellow students. Had she not been a vampire they would certainly have been convinced the fanged b*tch was ill. Whispers were flying and Jolie was oblivious to it all.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-02-12 21:18 EST
Dissatisfaction

Disappointment so ripe and heavy it was palpable. Disgusted. She had expected better of the vampire girl she had easily swayed. Too easily. It had been like leading a blind man over the edge of a cliff. There had been no challenge, no sport. Jolie had given herself up, practically gift wrapped and Almalthia was disgusted. When Jolie had blacked out Almalthia knew she was no challenge, certainly no threat. She had taken her to her own room, dressed her in her night clothes and lain her in her coffin. She need not worry about Jolie remembering anything. Those who succumbed to the poison never did. It was a unique quality that made the victim feel elated so that even if their muscles were not totally paralyzed they would not flee or fight, a useful thing when in the ocean and your prey is large enough to eat you.

Jolie had glided through the hallways the next night, feeling as though she were invincible, confident, and strangely benevolent. All traits never seen in the otherwise vicious, snarky, B*tch with fangs. She had seen Almalthia in the hallways on the way to Smout'n's class and had given her a cursory glance of curiosity, but had no recollection of the night prior. The look was no more nor less than Almalthia had received from several male students in the hallway as well. She had ignored Jolie after that, not deeming her fit to so much as look at. The girl posed as much challenge as a sponge. Now Almalthia was prowling the halls once again looking to either taunt Sartha or perhaps another student.

It was while she was 'hunting' that she caught the eye of another. Someone she didn't even realize was watching her, someone she didn't know was there.

Nil'aiha had seen the siren in the commons, wandering the halls. There was no way he could not have known her for exactly what she was. He watched in amusement as she stalked her classmates. Actually admired her skill, her cunning. He had even seen when she had taken Jolie. He had been about to intervene himself on the novitiate's behest when Almalthia had stepped in. He watched as the siren twisted the vampire's beliefs and made her think it was she who had gained the upper hand. Was impressed how Almalthia kept perfect control by causing another to think it was theirs.

"She should be in my class." He thought. He moved unseen away from where he'd been unobtrusively observing with the aid of a simple spell to ensure he would not be seen. Ideas were rampant and he needed to sort through them all. Something he would enlist the aid of Ginger to do.

Almalthia was unaware she was even noticed and entertaining herself with the student body. Particularly the next morsel that had caught her eye. Akemi. He looked...interesting. Lips parted to allow her tongue to slip past shark's teeth and moisten them.


And the hunt began anew.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-02-12 22:18 EST
A Viperfang Valentine's

Viperfang?s young elite gathered in Chamber Zingibar, representing an assortment of the most talented Novices and Apprentices from the Institute?s oldest House. While their personalities differed significantly, these particular students seemed to universally possess both beauty and viciousness, be it subtle or not. Immersed in an atmosphere of savage pretentiousness, they exchanged bits of chatter as they awaited the commencement of the meeting.

?Bryn, can I get you something to drink?? Grant inquired, playing bartender, a wanton smile spreading across his lips as his eyes settled upon the newly-arrived girl. ?No - wait,? he continued suavely, ?I don?t even need to ask. Bryn likes sweet drinks. Pink sweet drinks, sugar on the glass rim.?

?Bryn would like that very much,? she returned pleasantly. ?How ever did you guess?? the girl trilled wryly as she spun once, the flouncy pink tulle and lace of her shamefully-short dress flaring out around the very tops of svelte thighs. Being winter, she?d paired a set of silk stockings with the ensemble and accessorized with black and white faux flowers in her hair, pearls at her throat and ears, and other jewels on her fingers.

?It?s the only drink as delicious as you,? came Grant?s refined growl, handing over the sweet libation and winking before he turned to someone else.

Grail and Margot were there, of course - the former deeply immersed in conversation, the latter immersed in none. She noted Felix on the couch, his posse nearby. She caught his eye, and he nodded briefly. A momentary interaction; each party abruptly eluding any further contact. They slept together often, though neither would publicly profess to the connection; he was well-endowed in both girth and stamina, and she looked especially nice with that endowment between her glossed lips.

Bryn claimed a seat next to Margot just as Cinder entered the room.

Cinder commanded attention. Silence spread like a shadow across the room, various pockets of conversation succumbing to his powerful presence. He wasted no time in petty conversation, he merely began speaking.

?Viperfang is the Institute of Arcane Principle?s most prestigious House.?

No one spoke, none moved, few breathed.

?You are the future of Viperfang. Within a few years, the students in this room will be assuming control of our important legacy.

?But this legacy is threatened.

?Stormsabre, the house overseen by once-disgraced Fleur Rousseau, is quickly become the most successful in the school. Among their ranks, they count the Primorus Discipulus and many of the other highest-achieving students in the school: Brais Galician, Albion Sepherock, and Kish Phomaih.

?Stormsabre cannot be allowed to eclipse our prestige. If you, the future of Viperfang, tolerate their advancement, our legacy is dead.

?We must be aggressive. Each wizard in this room must make it a personal priority to overcome any competition from Stormsabre. We cannot oppose them physically, but we can undermine their success in other ways. They are a young house, many of their most prominent members no more advanced in rank or regard than you, and one of their most critical deficiencies is their tendency to form intense and volatile relationships.

?You will target these relationships. Initially, this will be an exercise in building trust and procuring information. Once enough material is available, our priority will turn to sabotage. We must be subtle, though, for gaining confidence is key.

?Grant. You live with Damien Tanner and Vliss Arcanum, and we know they are supposedly in love. Though they are both third-years, watch them closely - try to detect any possible weakness in the relationship. Pay special attention to Vliss; befriend her; be sympathetic and charitable. You will also observe Moir Revenant, for little is known about her.

?Felix, you will immediately peruse Xera Lionend. We know enough about the relationship among her and Blizzard Vaughn and Ozalynne. Your aggressive nature will assist you in this endeavor. If you cannot draw her away, plant the seed of doubt in regards to her lovers. Xera?s roommate is Esteban Velasquez, and you will also collect information about him - particularly, to whom he may be romantically connected.

?Bryn,? said Cinder, his unsettling gaze falling upon her serene visage. ?You will observe Albion Sepherock, but you will target his roommate, Quillyan Daewen. Become her confidant, decipher and nurture her doubts, especially in regards to Albion. This should be simple, so report back often with information and progress.?

She nodded.

?Margot, you will learn as much as possible about Kish Phomaih. Kish and his lover, Saphira. They are both very young, but they also possess magnificent power. There is something extraordinary there, but what it is, we know not. Listen and observe. If they are receptive to your presence, you may interact with them, but take absolutely no uninvited action until you?re able to gather more information about each one.

?Grail, your only assignment is Mystriana Desabre. She will be incredibly difficult to befriend, so proceed with the utmost caution and subtlety. Unless she initiates it, do not attempt to foster a relationship with her until we figure out why she?s so secretive.

?There are others we will be watching. In the upcoming weeks, we will modify our assignments as needed, depending on Stormsabre?s most dire weaknesses.

?If we can destroy their trust in each other, our legacy will be assured. Remember, be subtle and cunning.?

Cinder?s frigid eyes scanned the avid faces, and after several seconds of critical calculation, he turned abruptly, inclined his chin in a brisk nod, and left.

They were dismissed.

((Play on this if you like, no pressure! If you were not assigned a Viperfang buddy this time around and would like one, we'll make it happen. ::big grin!:: ))

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-12 23:55 EST
Dischord

Saphira had spent another night with Kish, something she'd done as often as possible. It might have been the rampant pregnancy hormones, or just that she felt safe with him or a co-mingling of both. It didn't matter, really. She was on her way to class, braiding her hair swiftly as she walked, Lune perched on her free shoulder sleeping. That bird could sleep through anything, Seriously. Mistress Lyricstar's class went smoothly and she stayed after to tutor the special group that needed extra help, or just wanted to ask questions. Saphira handled them as Mistress Lyricstar took care of other pressing matters. It was working out quite nicely. Today there was a new student, joining the study group. Margot.

Margot was reserved, quiet and seemed shy as she listened to the group asking questions, listened as Saphira answered. It was an hour later when the bell rang. Saphira dismissed them as usual. "I expect to see you all back again two days hence and I want to see manipulated ice. free flowing, and solid. Remember what I told you. You may go." Margot, stayed looking almost small, and shy. Saphira looked to the girl, a little distrustfully. Margot smelled of undeath and her experience with Jolie had put her on edge. "You are new to this class?" Not unkindly, but there was no warmth in her voice. "Yes," Margot replied with perfectly feigned timidness. "I was told you were the one to see about improving water elementalism?"

Saphira didn't like the way Margot smelled, but the thing with vampires was they could lie to her undetectably if they were good enough liars. Unlike those who lived and breathed, vampires did not create or excrete the same hormones and chemicals through their bodies, blood and flesh. To Saphira they all smelled of rot, decay, dust and malice. They smelled wrong "You were told accurately." Stiffly. Margot could tell right away the girl was going to be a tough one to crack. "I'm Margot. I was wondering, if you might please help me? I'm not getting good marks and I don't want to fail. If I don't pass they'll expel me and...and I haven't anywhere else to go." Fat tears slid down Margot's cheeks. "You don't know what it's like to be called a monster..." Whispering with seeming genuine pain.

Saphira softened, just a little bit. "You might be surprised." She replied gently. Why don't you come with me? I'm meeting Kish for lunch, he's really good with this too, we'll see if we can't give you a push in the right direction, okay? Please, don't cry.." She knew all too well what it was like to be called a monster. Margot had been wise in choosing which rumors to listen to and use to her advantage. "Is it true he's the father?" Margot hazarded. Saphira stiffened a little. "No." Tightly. She knew everyone knew but still...

"Lets keep this about you, please? We don't want you getting expelled. Come on." She led the way toward the courtyard where she and Kish ate lunch together every day. Kish looked surprised to see Saphira being followed, by a vampire no less. "Uhm, Saph? Who's your...friend?" Saphira half turned to Margot. "Margot. She's falling behind in water elementalism and I told her I would help her study. I thought you might have something to offer as well, being as smart as you are." It was a masked compliment. One Kish took well. "Yeah, sure. no problem. So, Margot, why don't you have a seat and show us what you know?"

Margot sat with them and smiled prettily holding her parasol to keep herself shaded. It had a nifty charm that the shadow it cast upon her would be as deep as night and she held little fear of the day. The parasol was merely for comfort. She intentionally cast badly, fail after fail and by the time her 'demonstration' was over, all three of them were soaked. Kish looked to Saphira. "We have out work cut out for us. what do you think, Saph? Teas n' Tomes tonight? We could find her a good book to start with." Saphira nodded. "She needs something. No offense, Margot but your casting is seriously lacking. you are going to need to focus much more if you want to improve your marks. It looks like we'll be spending some time together." Saphira didn't look terribly pleased. She already was helping with water elementalism, and seeing Master Menolymus on Fridays.

Soon she would be meeting with Mistress Praysin and Mistress Kysinya on Wednesdays. Then there was Mistress Lyricstar on Mondays. She was already bogged down on top of her regular classes. Kish wondered silently where she got the energy to do it all. Sometimes he thought she operated on sheer force of will. He didn't know it, but he was right. Between her tutelage and class and sneaking time with him, she had no personal time and every spare moment she had was spent reading about Denubae, pregnancy or sleeping. Margot. Smiled. "Oh, thank you so much! I really appreciate this!" Enthusiastically. "Please if I can ever do you a favor or you need something, please let me know."

Her voice was warm, sincere. If they could only hear the venom that mentally laced those hollow words. Saphira nodded and leaned against Kish, who automatically wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Yeah, no problem." He was watching Saph worriedly. "Look I hate to sound rude but Saph needs to rest.." Saphira shot him a look, not much caring to have her weariness so openly acknowledged. But Kish returned the look with a firm one. He wasn't backing down. Margot stood, solicitously. "Of course, I imagine it takes quite a toll, expecting a baby. Congratulations, by the way." She offered a smile, fangs barely exposed, turned and left.
What the couple didn't see was the purely wicked look of self satisfaction on her face as she walked away.

((Thanks Bryn for starting trouble! So fun!))

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-02-13 01:37 EST
?A waste child, listen to your intuition and not your heart on this one, for he is damaged in ways you cannot begin to imagine.?

Mistress Vadten's words struck a nerve with her. She was tired of being the outsider even within her own group. Tired of the way everyone regarded her as spoiled. Just plain tired...

he is damaged

Those three little words cast a doubt on everything she knew. Everything she felt... She remembered those words at the pond. She remembered the hope that was ignited. She wanted so much for a chance.

he is damaged

A few nights later, he was acting as if the words had never been spoken. They were friends and his about face had hurt her so. Then she had taken the burnt of the drider's wrath to protect the others. She very nearly died that night.

There was times she wish she had.

The hope had been reignited and yet she was a bit more cautious now. He said he changed, yet nothing had. She still felt like an outsider. No one, except her twin, understanding the battle she faced daily.

he is damaged

She knelt in the middle of the practice salle after having worked herself to exhaustion again... She just wanted to forget, to be held like she mattered. She didn't want people to play games with her heart...

"(vq) If he is damaged, then what am I?"

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-02-13 12:18 EST


She whimpered. It wasn't one of those whimpers where she seemed like she was in pain, but a mewling sound, like a moan strangled through the throat. Drowning ecstasy.

Cinder paused as he stepped through the door, the glowing hue of his viridian gaze finding the Novitiate easily. She stood weakly, held upright only by the sensual twine of lavender arms from behind her - one hand cupping her breast through her shirt, the other nestled between her thighs with the hem of her skirt scrunched around the wrist. Futilely she was pressing her knees together, though Cinder couldn't tell if that was to refute the lascivious caress to keep it in place.

Nuzzled into the junction of where her neck met her shoulder was a thick shock of long black hair as well as twin curling horns, rolling in suckling motion that was quickly defined as Iameth lifted his head to regard the Vampire. A mouth full of jagged fangs stained in red were shown as lips splayed into a vicious grin. "Evening, Master Havenloche." He teased, the parting of his teeth spilling the thick fluid down his chin and throat. "Hungry?"

The scent of blood was nearly overpowering, the fresh spill of delicious ichors filling his nostrils with its stark aroma, igniting a visceral hunger. Fortunately he had mastered his predatory instinct centuries ago, and while he certainly did want to advance and sample the lifeblood of the girl, he remained still. "I've already fed, Sorcerer."

"Well that's no fun." Iameth said with a smirk. The hand that cupped the girls breast gave a harsh squeeze before ascending to take her by the jaw, straightening her eyes to look ahead. "Have you met Corinelle yet? Her potential is ...boundless."

The girls eyes were glossed with a mixture of bone-chilling terror and toe-curling arousal to the point where it was indecipherable to see where one ended and the other began.

"I've seen her about." Cinder acknowledged. With a step forward he fully entered the summoning chamber, drawing the door closed behind him. It had been a long time since Cinder had been to the demonology hall. This chamber was not unlike the Conjuration chambers, though it was guarded with much stronger wards. Only the most infernal of creatures were summoned in the Demon Chamber, and because of that the room needed to be protected to keep those who were summoned trapped inside and not running rampant through the school.

The forked length of Iameth's tongue slithered out and licked across the score of punctures his fangs had made in Corinelle's soft flesh, lapping at the stannic tasting dribbles that raced down her collar bone. He stepped away, the strength of his grasp fading with his departure, and as a result the Novitiate slumped to the floor. Her legs curled beneath her, her hands slapping hard against the rough stone to keep her upright, and she gasped as the impact wracked her once again with a multitude of internal explosions.

Unconcerned with her unceremonious fall, Iameth made his way toward the Vampire, the nonchalant extension of his right hand corralling a cloth from a passing table. He wiped at his mouth with no more attention than one would pay a kerchief at dinner, his gaze, unobstructed by pupil or iris, leveled upon the Cinder. "So how did our little get-together tonight go?'

"It went well. The turnout was exceptional, though there were some key components not in attendance." Cinder paused to examine the growing interest in the Sorcerer's eyes before continuing. "Chika and Cadence, though the latter wasn't added to the fold for obvious reasons." The bard had just recently been brought into Viperfang and Cinder did not know enough about her to saddle her with such a devious ploy.

With the majority of the blood wiped away he folded the kerchief into a neat square. "A shame, really, I had plans for the both of them. That doesn't mean there has to be any changes made to the schedule but I would really like to see those two pull their weight." He turned, and the reason for his attention to the kerchief was revealed as he tossed it across the room. It landed a few feet from Corinelle and slid to lightly collide against her knees. Squares just flew better than jumbled rags. "Were there any other alterations made to the original plan?"

"A few. Chika was supposed to be given Saphira and Kish, but in her absence I went with...Margot."

Iameth's grin was condescending, well aware of Cinder's loathing of the girl. "And I'm sure you were just thrilled to have to let her loose."

"Ecstatic." The Vampire replied dryly.

Slender and sleek, the drape of demonic wings furled muscular shoulders to render Iameth the epitome of devilish. The dim candlelight glazed obsidian horns with a tawny hue that slid and shifted as he tilted and turned his head. "Tell me about the others."

Cinder recited the entire agenda, going through the list of who was given whom. The plan had been Iameth's originally. Divide and conquer. An age old tactic.

At the conclusion Iameth nodded. "I would be wary of Felix and Xera."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't take any crap and he's cornered the market on being an ass. If everything I've heard is true then she is still in the infantile stages of developing this relationship with Blizzard and Ozalynne. We want to tear her away, not send her deeper into their arms looking for comfort. I would have gone with Grail."

"I thought Grail was better suited for Mystriana DeSabre. He's charming."

"Mystriana doesn't want charming. Mystriana is too tough for charming. She might actually find some amusement in Felix's abrasiveness. Now Xera, Xera would enjoy being charmed."

They shared and look and then Cinder slowly nodded his head. "I'll make the change."

"No!" Iameth said sharply, his sensual mouth, still tinged with dried claret, pulling apart in a dark and mischievous grin. "You've made your coffin, Cinder. Time to die in it."

The girl, Corinelle, had lifted herself to her feet with all the strength she could muster and stumbled her way toward the pair, nearly falling into Iameth as she arrived. Disgusted, Iameth snarled and shoved her away, sending her to the floor once more. She jerked and whimpered, but again fought to stand, wobbling legs pushing her upward. "I...I need to go."

"Agreed." Iameth dismissed her.

"Wait." Cinder intervened and stepped in front of the girl, his cold touch taking her by the arms to gather her gaze. She looked at him, and in return he possessed her soul with his heritage, infecting her mind with compulsion.

Go straight back to your rooms. If anyone stops you along the way you will tell them that you had an accident. If they press you, you will tell them that Alyssa Conover did this to you.

Blankly, Corinelle stared at Cinder and at the end of his instructions nodded. "I will." She genuinely promised.

"Good." The Vampire said, releasing her. "Now flee."

She did, racing to the door and throwing it open to make her escape.
Iameth's laugh was sinister as he watched her go, his gaze sliding over to soak in the glowing visage of his co-conspirator. "Feel better?"

"We must tread carefully, Sorcerer. The Deaconess and Headmistress have been severe in their punishment of students attacking other students. If she were to tell of what you did..."

"And yet you have no worry about tossing this girl, this Alyssa, to the wolves instead?"

A fitting choice in words, Cinder thought. "I have my reasons."

"And I am sure they are all just!" Iameth turned on his heel and started back into the depths of the room, toward the summoning dais. He knew those steps would pique Cinder's interest and cut the Vampire off before he could ask. "Have Chika come to me. I have something special for her."
Cinder nodded. "Any other instructions?"

Iameth stopped and stared ahead for a moment, his diabolical mind churning all of the events and ploys currently underway. Finally he turned his chin over his shoulder, giving Cinder only his profile. "Tiatari and Uziya need an infiltrator, so find one for them. Brais and Fleur, leave them be." His slithering grin once more showed those lethal fangs. "...I'll handle them."

Ozalynne

Date: 2011-02-13 12:19 EST
She flew through the hallway on a patter of feet that barely touched the ground.

Whipping around the corner she skidded in a flash of red legwarmers and nearly collided with the sedately moving form of Eleyna. The icy blonde drew back in obvious disgruntlement and sneered, "Dost thou pay any attention to where thou art going?"

She'd meant to offer a quick apology on her spin about as she continued forward but the woman's accent threw her off and she lost her balance, stumbling about and bouncing against the far wall, "What?!" She blinked at her in shock.

And, of course, this was the moment that Surprise! decided to whiz around the corner, the wings fluttering a manic mile a minute and nearly impaling the dragonkin with his sharp little beak.

"What is the meaning of this? Art thou mad?!" Eleyna shrieked as she spun away from the attack.

"Oh! Oh! So Sorry! He just gets rather excited and--eek!" Ozzie leaped backwards from the glaring perfection of an angry caster. "Thou ART SO SORRY, THOUDIDNOTSTMEANESTTODOIT-est!" She tried to reason with her in her own tongue.

And recognizing a situation that was not going to go well, she fled.

Bursting into her dorm room with Surprise! right behind her. Xera and Blizzard's entwined figures on the couch were ambushed as she hollered, "LOOK! I got a real familiar!"

As they turned bewildered eyes upon her she rushed to explain, "You know that snake I've had this whole time that refused to talk to me!?" Wide candy blue eyes locked upon them as she nodded profusely, "Yea, him?! SO not a familiar! But Surprise!" She motioned to the hummingbird, "Surprise! is actually MINE!"

"WHEEE!!" She dove into the tangle of bodies with the mad little hummingbird flittering all around them. "I love Mos'em!"

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-02-13 18:50 EST
Fingertips, strong and yet flexible, walked in rhythmic succession from ring to fore along the tightly wound muscles of Xera's back, working out from the neck along the shelf and then dipping down around the shoulder to work toward the spine just inches below the surface. The Azer's pleasurable moans signified her appreciation of the effort, as did the sensual squirm of her backside perched snuggly into the careen of his hips.

His father had spent his life in the ring and afterwards would need a rub down to loosen all those muscles he had kept taut round after round. Blizzard's mother had been the one who constantly administered this benefit and over the years he picked up on things that aided in achieving the ultimate goal. That was the tool he put to use along Xera's shoulders.

Well, that and kissing her along the nape of her neck, but that was just an added bonus of his own creativity.

When Ozzie burst into the room it was startling, but in a way that elicited chuckles from him and giggles from her. Blizzard found Ozalynne stunning at all times, though none more so then when she was excited. There was a purity in her allure, that raw giddiness adding to her natural beauty.

The explanation and introduction of Surprise! was met with laughs and smiles, though honestly Blizz just couldn't wait for the cotton-candy haired sprite to join them.

The following hours were exhausting - the three entangled in a sensual undulation of naked bodies that ended up with him sprawled across the both of them: Ozzie curled into his back, nuzzled as close as she could possibly get, one graceful leg laid across the backs of his thighs, and Xera cradled beneath the drape of his arm, her hands coiled around the swollen bicep with a hungry desperation. Sleep came quickly and he enjoyed the feel of them all entwined together. In bed. In School. In life.

The next morning he was joined by the two in the shower, though not until he'd already been in for ten or so minutes. He could tell by the mischievous looks they shared that they had plotted against him and quickly learned of their wager as they slid to their knees.

Classes were early that day, with Master Mos'em's first. He still wasn't getting the whole conjuration thing, and even though he was really interested in most of the things that sort of magic could do, it just wasn't his cup of tea.

That didn't mean he didn't have to pass the class.

"I would recommend quickly starting to comprehend these elementary studies, Novitiate Vaughn, before your role within the Institute is relegated to Imp washer." Barked the Master of Conjuration as he snapped the book he had been studying closed. He stood with an extension of his legs so that he towered over Blizzard, though said nothing else, turning and exited the room.

Passing Felix Foster along the way.

Felix watched over his shoulder as Mos'em left through the door and then turned to Blizzard, a rare grin finding his statuesque visage. "What a dick."

Blizzard blurted out a laugh. He truly hadn't expected that. He didn't really know Felix but he had seen him in class. He was one of Mos'em's prized students. "I'd say the same thing, but with my luck he'd walk back in just in time to hear me."

Now it was Felix's turn to laugh, though his sounded a bit more forced. It seemed he wasn't used to letting go in such a jovial manner - Brais never did, so he tried not to. "Good point."

The laughter died away and for some reason there was a blanket of awkward silence that washed over Blizzard. He slung his back over his shoulder and started toward the same door that Mos'em exited. "Well, good seein' you. Have a good day."

"Actually," Felix said with a smooth step to the side that moved him between Blizzard and the door. "I was thinking that I might be able to help you." Again with that strange smile. "I know this stuff inside and out. I proctor for Master Mos'em because he likes how focused I am in his advanced class."

Blizzard arched a brow. "I thought that was only for Mage level wizards and higher?"

"There are exceptions." Felix assured with a glance to the pack that hung from Blizzard's shoulder. "And I would be more than happy to help you catch up to where you weren't being chewed out after every class."

Blizzard couldn't believe it. Felix was an exceptional student who seemed to be able to do this fundamental stuff in his sleep. He'd be a fool to pass it up. Still, though. There was one question that was burning in his mind. "Why?" He slanted his chin and arched a brow, obviously looking for some giveaway sign. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me."

Felix folded his hands behind him, stretching the front of his apprentice jacket across his chest. "I should have known you'd be able to smell an ulterior motive. You do seem a bit more instinctual than erudite." He nodded, confirming this diagnosis. "Alright. The fact of the matter is that you are part of Stormsabre and I am not. By helping you I might be able to win some favor with Mage Galician."

Blizzard laughed again. "Well, the problem there is that Brais doesn't really care for me. And aren't you a member of Viperfang?"

Felix nodded. "I am, though with any luck that can be changed. Lord-er, I mean Mage Galician currently only sees you as a Novitiate with little promise. In order to gain his attention and his favor you'll have to excel in your studies. With my help you will get his attention. And when you do, if you would simply make him aware as to the reason why, the rest will all fall into place."

Blizzard eyed him, unable to hide the suspicion that tinged the corners of his gaze. He hadn't ever really run into any of the members of Viperfang but had heard all sort of stories about deception and the like. There was a shaky air to Felix, that couldn't be denied, though his logic seemed valid. He seemed to really like Brais, who epitomized the balance between ally and adversary based on the status of class and the House attended. If anything, by doing this and trying to build a bridge between Felix and Brais, maybe he could get a set of eyes to watch the Mage's teaching with Ozzie. He didn't trust Brais, even though Ozalynne seemed to love the guy.

He nodded his head, lavender eyes shimmering with interest. "You know what, it sounds good. Chamber Sativum, right around ten." He chuckled as he stepped past Felix, a friendly slap to the Apprentice's shoulder sending him surging forward a step. Blizzard turned and pushed the door open with his backside, adding. "You bring the beer."

Felix watched as Blizzard left, the smile that had been plastered to his lips melting away to resume a more stoic stance.

Game on.

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-02-13 19:15 EST
(After the ViperFang Meeting)

She still wasn't sure what to make of Bryn and when the young woman sidled up near her she'd simply given her a nod and continued onward. As a cambion it was within her nature to gravitate toward the deceit and debauchery found within the group that gathered that night. But it was the stench of undeath that kept her from fully embracing them.

Bryn, on the other hand, excelled at Necromancy, as did many in Viperfang.

A distasteful sneer marred her lips. Kill something and leave it dead. That's the way she did things.

Case in point. She slid a booted foot off the carcass of the gnoll. A glance over her shoulder revealed that the rest of her team had done as predicted and the small raid had been carefully subdued with little actual effort. Master Tracha strode through and gave points and lectures where needed.

Arriving at her side he perused the smoking carcass and lifted approving eyes to her bloodsplattered features, "Impressive work."

She carefully licked the blood from her lips, her gaze heated and hungry where it slid down over the taut body of the Master of Evocation. "I agree."

He didn't fumble. Though he did pause just a second of time before continuing on to mark down her points. "That's all class, you're dismissed."

She considered staying after, following the hint of a fine shiver along his skin but noticed Margot waiting in the hall.

She hated Margot.

Viciously in fact.

Margot reminded her too much of the young teenage girl who had cut her own wings from her back trying to deny who and what she was. She was no longer that naive, and Margot's lengthy pity parties brought back those memories and twisted sharply.

Her stride was determined, the willowy length of her encased in a bodysuit made perfect for killing. Perhaps it was this, or maybe the look in her eye, that had Margot stepping back as she gained the hall, "What." Bluntly.

Dark bruised eyes flittered away as the ghostly vampiress sighed, "You missed the meeting, I'm here to fill you in on what you missed."

They walked, Chika saying nothing as Margot dutifully recited the orders in a dead whisper that had no chance of being overheard due to magic being employed.

"My assignment?"

"You were given none. I'm sure Cinder wants to talk to you personally."

Chika snarled. The undead bastard unnerved her more than his necromantic brethren. "I'll speak with Ashriel."

Ashriel would keep her updated. He'd let her know of the plans that his brother continuously laid. Though he wouldn't touch her. No, he quit touching her so many weeks ago when she'd slept with Iameth.

Did she miss the closeness?

Did she miss the mix of their bodies?

She didn't know if she wanted to answer those questions, but she didn't need to question why she'd done it.

Ashriel had gotten too close. Had come to mean too much.

Iameth had came after her with a vengeance, seeking his brother's'weakness. And she had succumbed with hardly any fight.

It was easier this way.

Striding away from Margot she headed for her former lover and her own assignation, assured that her path would stay solitary. None dared get close. None lingered.

And that's the way she needed it.

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-02-13 19:36 EST
The way Mistress Depha Vadten conducted her Divination class was far different than the way Elkinid remembered the class being ran before he left on his sabbatical. Granted, the former teacher was not nearly as educated as Depha seemed, Elkinid still didn't expect it to be so dissimilar.

He stood in a room with nearly twenty other students, all of whom were as silent as death. With his slender elven hands extended near sternum height, he watched the diamond shape they made by touching index finger to index finger, and thumb to thumb.

The image he saw there was through the eyes of another student, who was actually attending Depha's class in its designated area. Before each class students paired up and then cast their divination spells, whether clairaudience or clairvoyance (or both) was up to the caster, on their partner. The class was then divided by partners and separated so that one student could observe Depha's teaching through the eyes or ears of their partner. At the half way point they would exchange places, giving everyone the experience of seeing through another, and then being seen through in the same fashion.

His partner was Zairan, a quiet and introverted Air Elementalist who didn't talk about himself...or really anything...which was fine with Elkinid. He wasn't the type that needed to know everyone's business. The less he knew about them, the less they would ask about him, and in his current state that's how he preferred it.

The image wavered and started to dissolve, but quickly he re-solidified his magic and brought the vision into crystalline clarity. His mind was a maelstrom, constantly cycling through a myriad of thoughts. Lately it had been of Angelica.

He knew that he was going to need time to figure out some things and that was why he was so determined to make sure she understood that he wanted a slow burn. He wasn't looking to go rushing into things, and while he knew she wouldn't wait forever - how could one so beautiful? - he needed time to make sure that in the end he wouldn't cause her any pain.

He hadn't seen her for nearly two weeks, and secretly he had listened to hear if maybe she had come by, though Quinnon always told him the same thing: they had had no visitors. He understood, though. He knew she was busy and didn't think much of it, he'd have to try and find time to visit the Salle soon.

Again the image shuddered.

"Mage Qualn?" Mistress Vadten's voice hissed through the hollow channel of clairaudience. "Is there a problem with your magic? Do you need to get more sleep at night or is there another issue I need to be made aware of?"

"No, Mistress." He nearly cringed, that word...Mistress ...was hard to speak in any tongue considering what it represents in his homeland. "I just need to focus."

...in more ways than one.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-13 23:17 EST
Study at T'nT

She was exhausted. Kish had insisted she try and catch a nap before they went to Teas 'n Tomes and she'd reluctantly acquiesced. Nearly as soon as she lay down her eyes had slid closed and she slept. Kish watched over her worriedly before slipping his clothes off and sliding into bed with her to doze himself. An hour passed and the time charm he'd cast expired with a soft chime, rousing him from slumber. He sighed softly, hating that he had to rouse her after so short a time. "Saphira.." Murmured gently. She didn't budge. He felt a surge of compassion for her, knowing she expended all her energy keeping up a front. He stroked her face softly. "Saphira, sweets, I'm sorry but it's time." He felt guilty he had to be the one to wake her. "Hmmm?" Came the sleepy reply at last.

He kissed her gently. "We have to go meet Margot." Still speaking softly to her, watching as she slowly roused herself. "Mmmmm.... yes..." She stretched against him luxuriously, and he smiled. He loved when she did that, but they didn't have time for pleasure. "Come on Saph, you need to eat, too. Have you had much today?" Her reply was a still-sleepy mumble. "Not much, some blood, a little raw meat and those magic beans you gave me." He looked at her surprised. "You...you're eating those?" She looked at him with that breathtaking glacial gaze before slowly sitting up. "MmmHmm. They smelled so good, and at first I wasn't thinking about it, but they tasted good too, and they didn't make me sick, so.." She shrugged. "Why, are beans not food?" Puzzled.

He chuckled. "Regular beans are, yes. But magic beans generally are for planting. But they aren't poisonous so I'm sure it's fine." He did not voice his concern she was craving magic Surely it must be the fact she carried the Denubae's offspring. No point in worrying her about it. He sat up and slid off the edge of the bed to dress himself in his uniform. Saphira followed suit, then brushed and braided her hair into a long white rope. She petted Cicle affectionately before joining Kish, who was waiting for her and smiling. "Beautiful." He said approvingly. "Shall we, then?" She nodded with a smile and they left for town.

********

Kish had insisted (again) Saph eat, so they stopped by the butcher's. She had promised not to hunt and as a result of course was craving raw meat even more than usual. The butcher had long since grown used to the oddities in Rhy'din and didn't even bat an eye as Kish payed and Saphira began eating the bowl of bloody ground deer with her fingers. In fact he chuckled and looked at her with a fatherly smile. "Lass, if yer wantin' to eat it raw it's your business and yours alone, but you're going to get yer uniform mussed like that. Here." He rummaged a moment before finding his quarry with a soft 'Aha!' and produced a fork, offering it to her. "There ya be, girlie. And clean fingers to boot." Saphira had taken the fork sheepishly anfter licking her fingers clean. "Thank you very much." She said, a little shyly. Kish found it endearing after everything she'd endured she was still so demure. "Come on Saph, we're going to be late."


Margot had arrived early, and was waiting for the young pair to arrive. She was hungry again, as usual, but ignored the pain. She was on another one of her fasting kicks and had decided (for a while) she was above blood sucking. Though deep down she knew this to be a lie, even if only to herself. She waited in a darkened nook, well away from the heat of the fireplace and was eventually rewarded with familiar voices. She hoped tonight she would learn something worth bringing back to Cinder. Kish opened the door and held it for Saphira and she kissed his cheek softly as she entered. Kish behaved as though she'd given him gold. Margot was inwardly sickened.

Outwardly she smiled with false warmth and feigned enthusiasm, lifting a thin pale arm to greet them with a shy finger-waggle. "I was afraid you were not coming." Came that soft sweet voice. Kish grinned the easy grin of youth and Saphira smiled as well though thin and wan. "No," Saphira said. "We were late because Kish insisted I eat." but the look she gave him wasn't angry, more grateful he'd made the call. Margot could smell the bloody meat on Saphira's breath and felt a sharp twinge of pain for a moment. "Well," Came that honeyed voice once more. "You should. He's right, You need to keep your strength up. For the baby's sake." Solicitously. That earned her an approving nod from Kish. "So everyone keeps telling me.." But her voice was not unkind.

Kish finally spoke up. "Saph, why don't you settle yourself and talk to Margot while I see if I can't find some useful books? You should rest as much as you can anyway." As he guided her gently to an overstuffed chair near Margot, who was smiling prettily at them both. "How sweet!" She exclaimed. "Saphira, you are very lucky!" Kish smiled as Saphira settled and wandered of to the arcane section. As he moved out of ear-shot Margot leaned forward to Saphira conspiratorially. "And he's cute, too." That earned her a genuine smile from the wolf-girl. Saphira was slowly warming to Margot. "I like him." And with that she managed a wink to the vampire.

"But, shall we get to business?" Margot nodded and Saphira began her lecture. Basic water elementalism how it worked, and why it worked. Nothing Margot didn't already know but she pretended interest, even going so far as to pose questions here and there and pretend to draw conclusions, seemingly from the information Saphira provided. Saphira seemed pleased the vampire appeared to be catching on so quickly. Kish was still perusing for the perfect book and the two girls continued for a little bit this way.

"Shall we take a little break, or would you like to keep going?" Saphira eventually asked. "I think a break would be lovely." Margot replied. "Too much at once and I might forget." So far she had seen nothing remarkable about either Kish or Saphira, though she found her fur interesting. She decided small talk might unlock the answers. "Your fur is gorgeous, Saphira. Just beautiful." She gave her a practiced look of envy. Saphira seemed to like the compliment and flushed. "Thank you." Demurely. "Do both of your parents have such pretty fur?" Curiously. Saphira stiffened, but only slightly. "No, only my..sire? Father?" Not certain which word was right. Margot caught the hesitation right away. "You don't know what to call him?"

Saphira shook her head. "I never met either of them. I was orphaned." Margot looked sympathetic and leaned to pat her shoulder soothingly. "I am so sorry to hear that. If you don't mind though, do you know what he was? I mean your fur is so stunning, he must have been something elegant." Saphira wasn't certain how to take the flattery, and was grateful when Kish chose just then to return and pull up a seat next to hers. "Nothing so fancy, I don't think." Her smile was thin again. Kish looked between them. "What's not fancy?" "Saphira sighed. "My lineage." Kish laughed. "I would hardly say fancy, but impressive, yes." His eyes shone with love as he gazed at her, unmindful of the several large books in his lap. He looked to Margot. "She's about as rare as it gets. A lycan elemental mix. And all mine, too." He winked.

Saphira blushed. "Kish!" Margot laughed. "I think it's cute. He's obviously crazy about you." She looked to Kish's lap and the books resting there. Not one to forget appearances. "Did you find any good books?" Kish nodded. "Sure did. Here." He handed her the first one. A heavy and very thick book titled. 'Water of Life' "That ones a great introductory book. I read it twice last year. It should really help. then there's this one." He handed her a second tome entitled. 'Floes and Flows - The Relative States of Water Magic' Kish looked triumphant. "Those ouoght to give you a good basis, and Saph here can give you a unique insight, being half water-type elemental herself. What did you say it was Mistress Lyricstar called it?" Giving her a quizzical look.

Saphira had been watching Margot as she'd flipped interestedly through the books Kish had given her. "Hmm? Oh Frozen fog elemental." Margot furrowed a pretty brow. "I have never heard of that, is it a sub-class of water type?" Saphira fidgeted under the scrutiny, but decided to answer anyway." Not exactly. It's a highly specialized water arch-type with abilities in the other elemental spheres. Rather than being conflicted with elements that should be able to damage it, it can manipulate them instead for it's own use." Even Kish was listening avidly, this was really the first time he had heard Saphira explain this. "So, that's why you can use all the elements?" he asked, brows up. Saphira blushed and nodded.

Margot looked interested as well. "Really?" She inquired. Could you...maybe..show me something? Usually elementalists focus on one sphere..I would love to see your talents!" Her enthusiasm this time was halfway real. If what the wolf-girl claimed was true, Cinder might want to know about it. And as far as she knew, Saphira wasn't in a house yet, either.. she might be able to tempt her to Viperfang, putting distance between her and Kish. Already her mind was working furiously. "Please?" She implored. Kish looked at her too. "If you feel up to it, I would like to see it again." He said. Saphira gave him a confused look. "Again?" Kish realized his slip then. "Uh, yeah. New year's you were really upset, I think I had followed you I was going to talk to you to see if you were okay but you...Saph it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. You made a..I don't know it was like a storm though and it froze and burned and the wind was..it was amazing!" His eyes took on that light they did when his interest was piqued.

Saphira shook her head. "I don't remember that. But, I feel okay now...I could show you a little, I guess. But not here." Margot stood, clutching her books." Great! I'll just pay for these then we can go." Kish stood as well. "Yeah, I need to pay for these two, too." He headed to the counter and Margot stalled a moment fussing with her skirt so she would be able to get behind Kish and see what book he had gotten himself. Saphira stood up and stretched before heading toward the door to wait for the others. Kish set his books down on the counter while he dug in his pockets to pay, soon withdrawing a hand full of gold coins. Margot took the opportunity to glance at Kish's books. the one on top was not terribly interesting. 'Lycan gestational cycles, what to expect, when to run'
The second book however was very interesting. Very interesting indeed.
'Denubae. History, Traits, Temperment and Biology.

Her eyes widened only slightly. So it was true. Saphira really was pregnant by a Denubae. She couldn't wait to get this little tidbit back. She payed for her books next and followed Kish to where Saphira waited. Saphira looked tired still. Kish frowned. "Saph, you don't look too well." He offered. "You sure you don't want to wait for another night?" Margot was no fool, and knew when it was wise to be 'concerned'. "He's right. I can wait to see another time. You should get some sleep. Besides I need to get started reading. I'll take a raincheck, okay?" Saphira nodded. "Alright, yeah. I do feel tired suddenly." Margot smiled. "Of course. go get some rest. Shall I gate us back to the grounds? I do have a knack for portals and gating." Kish nodded. "That'd be great, yeah." Even Saphira looked grateful for the offer. "Please." Margot nodded. "Not a problem at all." Brightly, almost. She murmured softly and the gate formed in the doorway of Teas 'n Tomes. "Shall we then?" Margot stepped through first and Kish and Saphira followed.

They said their goodbyes and Margot hurried back to her house to relay what she had learned of the wolf-girl. She hadn't learned much of Kish, except he seemed exceptionally proud of Saphira and was taken with her to the point of awe. there had to be a weakness in there somewhere. That kind of love was often blind, and could be used to incite jealousy.

Kish walked Saphira back to her own room tonight, and took time to Tuck her in, Lune slept on his perch still, oblivious to it all. He undressed her and kissed her and smoothed back her hair. "Sweet dreams, beautiful." He murmured even as she fell asleep under her own exhaustion. He set the books he had bought on her desk and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-02-15 20:06 EST
Slow burn was what he wanted...

Slow burn was what he was going to get.

She was resolved to not approach him. She learned a hard lesson a year ago. Add to it nearly dying the way she did and she was determined to be the one sought after, not the other way around. She was through chasing men.

To her mind, if he could stay away like he was, then perhaps it was not meant to be. As she told him previously, she didn't believe in releasing someone for them to return. Yes, he returned and so far he wanted to keep his distance. No amount of coaxing that one night got him to change his mind. So she stopped trying.

Intuition told her that she should make him come to her, not the other way around. She did not beg for any male, much less one that has hurt her in the past. The demon whispered that he truly had not changed.

All little things she told herself to keep her from stopping by his rooms... Stop herself from seeking him out.

What was so wrong with her that she was treated this way? Maybe she needed time away or a talk with her father. He was one of the few males in her life that never let her down.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-16 00:24 EST
A demonstration

Saphira had slept. Too long. she opened her eyes to Kish gently stroking her cheek. "Hmmm? What... what time is it?" Sitting up. He looked into her face, concerned. "Later than it should be. You missed study hall, lucky it's not required you attend, but you never miss, so I was worried. You feeling okay?" She yawned softly, stretching. "Yeah I guess I was just tired." She tried to reassure him with a smile. "I feel better now though, really." He looked at her critically. "Alright. Come on, I brought you something special for breakfast. Then I'll help you do your fur." Really he wanted an excuse to touch her and brushing that silky fur was a great reason. Lune looked at him as if to say that was the lamest line he'd ever heard.

Saphira rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Special? what did you bring?" Curiosity in her voice as she watched him rummage in his bag. "Aha!" Triumphantly as he pulled out a bottle filled with a beautiful sparkling purple liquid. She looked at it in awe. "It's very pretty, but it doesn't look like something you're supposed to ingest....." Dubiously. Kish gave her a mock hurt look. "Don't you have faith in me? Trust me, you'll love this." She kissed his cheek. "Sorry. I do have faith in you. What is it?" Instead of an answer Kish grinned and unscrewed the cap and Saphira's eyes went wide. It smelled wonderful "Oh, wow..What is that?" Kish looked pleased with himself.

"I went down to the potion shoppe and asked for something that was magical and did absolutely nothing. Of course they thought I was crazy for wanting a potion that didn't do anything, but once I explained they gave it to me. Even though I had to pay a little extra." He offered it to her with a grin. "Just for you." She took the bottle. It smelled so good and her mouth was watering a little bit. "So it..it's just pure magic?" She looked at him curiously. He nodded. "Yep. Doesn't do a thing. I figured since you were eating those magic beans you must be craving it. Probably because the baby needs it to grow healthy. So I decided to get you something a little better than beans." She kissed him again. "That was so thoughtful, Kish. He smiled. He loved how she said his name.

She took a little sip, and indeed it tasted as good as it smelled, which was funny, because it didn't taste of anything. Soon she was drinking deeply, and feeling more satisfied than she had in a while. At least since Mystri had hunted for her. Kish watched, glad he had found a way to help. He smiled as she finished it. "I thought it's make you feel better." She nodded and indeed she looked more alert, had a....way...about her. "I feel much better, thank you." The look in her eyes told him she spoke true and more. He chuckled. "I love it when you look at me that way, but you need to get ready. Master Menolymus does not like to be kept waiting, so I hear." He went to her dresser and grabbed the brush she used for her body and began brushing her, though she didn't need much. She ran her fingers through her hair and began to bind it quickly. She finished up as Kish did.

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Kish." Standing to grab her uniform and slip into it. Once she was dressed she turned to him with a wink. "Do I look alright?" Kish laughed. "Gorgeous, as always. Now come on, before you end up late." She nodded and they hurried out. Kish escorted her to Master Menolymus' office kissed her and murmured. "Good luck." Before heading to his own class. Saphira steadied herself and knocked. "Enter" Bade a very masculine voice. She did so and was a little surprised to find herself in a Charred, burned out looking place "Saphira, correct? Mistress Lyricstar has told me of your potential." He didn't give her time to respond. "Come here." He wasn't cruel in his command, but he wasn't asking and she obeyed with alacrity. She stood quietly as the imposing Glabrezu inspected her. Fog drifting around her body as often did when she was nervous.

She was briefly reminded of when she'd been on display in the square.. "Show me your fire." It was the command that snapped her back to the here and now, and she swallowed hard as the mist swirling around her combusted into blue, heatless flame. His next statement was growled. "What is this, then?" He thrust his hand unceremoniously forward and was surprised to find her fire was indeed fire but the attributes were unusual. It made his entire arm tingle, and then it began to both burn and freeze simultaneously. He shook his hand to extinguish it and grunted in surprise when it clung to him. "Extinguish it." He commanded roughly. "Yes, Master Menolymus." And without a word or so much as a batting of a lash the flame went out. "Hmm. Interesting, I'll say that." But his tone carried neither approval nor any other emotion. It seemed he only knew how to be stern.

"Can you manipulate ordinary flame as well?" His scrutiny heavy on her. "Yes, Master Menolymus." She was keeping her answers short and respectful. "Demonstrate. He gestured and A sudden blaze of immense intensity appeared before her. At first she almost shrank back but she stopped her self and in that instant as she steeled her nerves, she sent the inferno spinning into a pillar of flame before extinguishing it. All without speaking or gesturing. He looked her over again, and she trembled. "How did you do that?" This time when he inquired it was very soft, it held a dangerous edge. "I don't know, Sir. I just...wanted it to do what I wanted and it did." Knowing her explanation sounded lame. "You just wanted it to do what you wanted and it did." He repeated flatly. "You cringed first. Why?" Saphira gulped. "I am - was afraid of fire. He showed no sympathy. "Then how is it you can control it?" She looked down. "It is an innate ability, Sir. I only recently discovered this."

He waved his hand dismissively to the details, uninterested in the when as much as the how. "You will report here

every Friday and Sunday. Am I clear?" Saphira nodded, none too thrilled. She was already so tired. "Yes Sir." Quietly. He nodded sharply. "Good. I will also show you how you may use the flame to replenish yourself. You obviously are not resting enough." But there was still no warmth or real concern in his voice. "If you are poorly rested you might endanger others. I will not tolerate accidents. You are dismissed." Saphira turned and exited hastily, more than happy to leave. Menolymus Watched her go, brooding.

The girl had potential.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-02-16 07:00 EST
It had been a night of ups and downs. He had gone to the isle expecting to met up with the other Gingers. He had set up the drinks and everything. Only hardly anyone showed up this night.

He had been very disappointed that there had been no one to cheer him on as he scored the first win in the friendly competition with KIA. He had given his demon a bit of free reign and it showed as he was able to turn some of Yina's Blue magic back on her. The Coup De Grace was when he turned the sensual woman's clothing to sack cloth.

Then came the presumption from the Kirn woman. She had been looking for a bit of fun and decided to use his lap to lounge in... for all of two minutes. He had been gentle, but firm about it.

"(vq) As tempting as you are, there is a lady that has claimed my affections, kitten."

No harm, no foul but damn, those Pheromones made it hard to say no. He needed some sort of physical release and he needed to wash the scent from his skin. He did not invite this attention and he certainly did not enjoy the consequences of said attentions...

Correction, he only enjoyed those attentions from one. He had been running the idea around his head and wanted to do right by her. Now that she understood that the intimacy was not something she could take lightly, he wanted to the right thing by her. Saphira's gently spoken words came back to him tonight.

Cherish her, and make it clear to her you do. There are more ways than that to show you love her, exercise them with patience, and you will surely find some comfort.

He detoured to the marketplace with one thought in mind. He did not subscribe to the whole fervor behind Valentines Day, but this was different.

A couple of hours later, He was slipping into his quarters and placing a silver planter on the dresser. She would see it and a heart pendant gently entwined in the leaves. A little card would simply read:

"This my heart and you are the key to it."

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFk51dVU5c001NEJHTkhPTnVyemJPN2cAAAACaWQKAXgAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-02-16 15:03 EST
She wasn't good at these kinds of games. Her features did not hold onto simpering smiles or false pretenses, not the way the ebon depths of her eyes held no emotion.

In her opinion if Tiatari was proving to be problematic there was a simple enough answer and it was a sharpened blade.

Seducing her boyfriend? Undermining her in the classroom? It seemed to circle the problem. Though she understood the precaution as it was explained to her. The faculty rarely involved themselves in student's disputes. In fact, they encouraged such interaction as it only made the students more ambitious and cautious. Up to the point of fatality. And then...well... such was not to be tolerated.

She was computing all of this when Tiatari Blayne's sharpened tone cracked across the head's of her students, "Careful. This is not a potion to be trifling with."

A timid little voice lifted from the front row, "Is it true that you once blinded yourself with this very same elixir, Mistress Blayne?"

The silvery eyes of their teacher apparently frightened the student into submission though all were surprised when Tiatari softened and replied gently, "It is. Without the assistance of my friend Angelica and her kin I would've been in dire straits."

Chika tilted her head in thought.

Fatalities were frowned upon...but no one had said anything about misfortunate accidents...

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-02-16 22:22 EST
Bryn?was completely still, save?rhythmic breaths drawn with meditative slowness.? In and out they?flowed,?contributing only to silence, barely lifting the sensuous lines of her exposed breasts.? The air smelled faintly of roses, she noticed, and she lazily wondered if it was the perfume of the flowers that had been placed artfully amid her unbound tresses.???The?precise?stillness and slow breathing?and honey-colored light of late afternoon, dripping in through ancient windows -- these things were making her drowsy.? Eyelids fluttered, and she longed to stretch the decisively-poised?bare?length of her fragile body.
?
Grant studied these contours; he fixated on them, dissecting the play of?coy shadow across the tempting spans of perfectly-fair flesh.? Perhaps?she was something better carved into stone, these narrow, taut?lines of her body?-?angles and planes that?would be severe if not for an infusion of feminine grace that left them seeming simply, sweetly petite.??And yet, stone wouldn't capture?the blush of?her cheeks and lips?or?the luxuriant chocolate-golden tones of her hair.?

Stone made all into Gods, and Grant wanted earthbound vulnerability.?

So, with Neoclassical precision, he painted her -- a delicate and defenseless version of her, lounging languidly amid drapes of jewel-toned cloth, adorned only with recently-plucked blooms.
?
They talked little, but nonetheless, they seemed to enjoy each other's company.
?
Felix entered?Grant's quarters in the Laurus wing without knocking, and neither present party seemed terribly surprised.? Startled instead was Felix, his refined brow lifting above widened eyes as he beheld Bryn's familiar body, so honestly exposed to Grant?s artistic eye.
?
Bryn thought mildly that she was now more naked, under Felix?s attention. While Grant?s gaze sought the small details -- the structure of her shoulders, the modest shadow created by bend of her hip -- and gently drew from these little pieces, Felix?s was burning and brazen, thrusting a crawling heat upon the whole of her unblemished skin.

?Hard at work, I see,? was his abrupt salutation. ?Advancing the prestige of our Noble House with oils and idleness.?

Grant?s eyes quit their alternation between his canvas and his model, sliding instead to his guest, a small and serene smile gracing his charming features. ?Hello, Felix. I think it?ll turn out well, this painting.?

?Prestige aplenty, Felix,? came the melodic ring of Bryn?s voice. ?Grant?s quite talented.?

?Right.? Felix scoffed, his attention consumed by the remarkably realistic depiction on the canvas, ?Well, if we must, I?m sure we can challenge Stormsabre in naked arts ?n? crafts.?

?I?ve been watching and observing, as ordered,? murmured Grant, before: ?Bryn, you?re moving. Your hair -- it?s shifted.?

?Oh, let?s stop for today,? the model returned, already rising from her set. Once upon her feet, she stretched wantonly, lengthening her slender lines, flesh stretching seductively over the elegant bones and bends. ?And Felix,? she added, ?I?ve made plenty of progress. That Quillyan -- she?s paired up with Jolie Viette in Master Smout?n?s class. Do you know Jolie??

Neither of the men spoke, Grant already replacing his supplies, Felix staring somewhat south of her eyes, offering only a terse nod.

?Well,? Bryn continued pleasantly, completely unruffled, dainty hands finding a resting place on the narrow curve of her hips. ?She?s something, isn?t she? And she?s absolutely no help to Quillyan, of course, so I offered a sympathetic ear after her class. I?m so often there, since I assist Jannara. The girl?s quite willing to talk, I found. Apparently this vampiress has been creating quite a lot of conflict for our esteemed peers.?

?What about Albion?? Felix urged with mild annoyance, his fingers curling into fists.

Bryn ventured with sumptuous slowness to Grant?s sitting area, where her clothes were neatly folded. ?She spoke little of him, and when she did, her words were carefully chosen, halting, and hesitant. I believe there?s quite a lot of confusion there.? She slipped a summery sundress in pale blue over her head, and the airy fabric tumbled smoothly down her figure.

?Well,? remarked Grant as he examined his brushes, ?that doesn?t help us much.?

?Right,? Felix added. ?Who cares if some nameless novice is torn up over her boyfriend, if the boyfriend doesn?t seem to be suffering? Albion?s the one we need to watch out for.?

Bryn, as usual, merely smiled.

?I?ll find out more,? she assured them, ?I only need time to build trust. But for now, patience, my dears. We?ll catch up soon -- for now, I must go dress for dinner.?

***

She knew that Felix found an excuse to follow her exit. He didn?t bother to silence his steps as he stalked her halfway back to the Lilium Wing, and he asked no questions as he caught up to her, closed a set of strong fingers around her slender wrist, and tugged her into a desolate little closet.

In fact, neither of them spoke.

Before the door had completely closed, he?d buried that handsome face into the curve of her neck, pressing his lips hungrily to shuddery, sensitive skin as his hands tugged the hem of her dress upwards, towards her waist, exposing the bare juncture of below, parting her thighs with the insistent nudge of his knee.

Neither of them spoke. They had an understanding.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-02-18 11:42 EST
{Laurus Wing}

He was charming of that there was no doubt. But his eloquent blandishments did nothing to turn her head.

She'd shown Grant to the unoccupied bedroom suite and had been the perfect hostess as was her wont but as he had pressed his charm upon her she'd found herself amused by his attempts to seduce her.

"Grant. You're quite charming and I appreciate your compliments, however I should tell you that I'm quite taken."

His laugh had been velvet, his apologies just as smooth, "You can't blame a man for trying."

And then he'd settled onto the couch as if he owned it. Having been planning on a meditative series of yoga she was disconcerted. It was one thing to stretch before Damien's appreciative glance. It was quite another to do so before this strange man with his heavy eyes.

She needed to clear her head. Find the strength to join Damien at the Islands again. She had enjoyed it the last time and had hoped to enjoy it this time, her thoughts were interrupted by Grant's suave voice, "So how does that work exactly?" He practically purred.

"How does what work?" She blinked her golden gaze away from the internal turmoil.

"You and Damien. If you don't mind my asking?"

His question seemed innocent enough but she was immediately confronted with memories of them entwined, the heated arousal potent, the desire to culminate always there and yet tarnished by her connection to another. Her heart clutched at the pain she knew she caused him.

"It's private." Not sure what his question entailed but very much aware of the potent reaction Damien's name had upon her.

"Well, I just mean, here you are always hiding away in the room and there he is out there the available lap for every hot little piece of ass that chooses to grace it."

She flinched. "It's not like that. He's not like that. We have an understanding."

Grant's laugh was pure velvet, "Well I certainly hope so, dear. As much ass as that lap finds I'm sure he needs a potent form of release, just don't mind my curiosity. It was unseemly of me to go there. I'm sure you're perfectly capable of seeing to his needs."

She had nothing. No response but a sickly smile as she excused herself to her rooms blinded by the riot of emotions. She suddenly lost what desire she had to venture to the Islands.

"Oh yes, goodnight Vliss. I'm sorry to have brought it up. So rude of me really." He rose to move toward her and offer her the gentle embrace of his arms and the brush of his lips across her cheek. "I just wouldn't want to see you hurt again. You're much to beautiful a prize to be lost."

Golden eyes swam with tears as she tried to follow the poisoned path of his words, "I'm sorry, wh-what?"

"Well." His chuckle was disarmingly smooth, "After the way Uziya chose Tiatari over you, you'd think you'd want to keep a closer eye on this one."

She stumbled free from his embrace, her vulnerability etched upon the golden perfection of her skin.

"Sweet Dreams Vliss." He smiled.

*************

Grant would be furious the next day when Vliss floated around in humming contentment despite her emotional wreckage of the night before, the heartshaped pendant hung boldly from the slope of her neck.

Xera

Date: 2011-02-18 12:02 EST
{Anise Wing}

Missing out on Twilight Island was just too horrible to bear. But she'd asked for a leave of absence from her studies and had been given the chance to get work done in advancement so as not to fall behind.

She was worried about the upcoming return home but it would be so incredibly worth it now that the decision had been made.

Because she knew the distraction Blizzard and Ozalynne held for her she ruthlessly sequestered herself in her own dorm room and focused on her studies.

It was with some surprise that she lifted her smoky eyes to discover that she was being observed from her doorway, "Ya?"

The coldly handsome features of Felix pulled themselves into a semblance of a smile, "Need some help, roomie?" He managed to put an emphasis on the word 'roomie' that gave it an added level of intimacy.

Stretched out on the taut surface of her naked stomach she kicked her feet idly in the air as she scratched dutifully at the parchment before her. "Eh? I'm good."

He moved forward on an assured stroll and claimed a spot on the edge of her bed as if he'd been invited. She blinked up at him in some surprise at his nearness, "Yes, there's no doubt that you are very very good." He smiled further and put a hand upon the small of her back, fingers sinking into the flesh as he kneaded the muscles with expert grace. "But you're also very very tense."

She opened her mouth to blister him with her tongue when the delicious sensation of tense muscles loosening had her sinking on a sultry moan into the mattress. "Mmm..."

He grinned. "There you are." And began the work with a little more earnest attention. The heat of her skin a tempting tapestry.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-02-20 11:48 EST
The hallway was so quiet that his knock upon the door seemed amplified, and upon its conclusion he took a step back and waited. Ashriel had found the dorm room with a little research and some light questioning, and now waited to see if who he sought was inside.

She was.

The door opened and standing on the other side was a statuesque beauty whose features shifted through a myriad of emotions. Uncertainty. Surprise. Relief. It was all right there.

"Corinelle?" He asked, though the question was thin. He knew it was her.

Girlishly she clapped her hands together and spun on the ball on her left foot in a graceful pirouette. "In the flesh!" This fluid circuit sent the silk scarf she wore, fashionably tied about her throat, fanning out in a lazily whip. Iameth's trademark.

That was the reason Ashriel was there: to clean up Iameth's dirty work. To heal the wound he had put upon her throat while feeding. Silver eyes ticked upward, finding her gaze. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm-"

"Ashriel." Her tone dipped to a playful mischievousness, feet sliding backwards to free the doorway of her presence and invite him in. She spun again, sending her uniform skirt flaring about her thighs, and strode deeper inside. "Of course I know who you are. I've been waiting for you."

An odd statement. He was certain they'd never met. The only way he knew of her was due to the connection he had with his brother-in-imprisonment. When Iameth was dominant it was as though Ashriel was stuck in a room made of frosted glass, able to see though with an obscure view. The same was said of sound, a muddled audibility, as though trying to listen to a conversation with a pillow covering the head. Keen details were always lost, though sometimes he was able to make out simple things.

Eyes ran the frame of the doorway with uncertainty and he stepped in. He assumed his arrival to be a surprise and yet Corinelle acted as though she had been expecting it. The door closed behind him of its own accord though Ashriel offered it no regard. In a school of Wizardry the mundane act of actually closing it by hand was often lost to magic.

"I was unaware of our acquaintance." He said with a glance around the rather ordinary chamber. Nothing more than two beds, a circular dining room table and a door that lead to the bathroom. "How is it that you know of me?"

She moved to the dining room table and turned back to lean against it, hands finding the smooth wooden edge. "Who doesn't know the Overseer of Viperfang?" She asked, eyes descending to observe the masculine length of his powerful physique. "You're a little hard to miss."

Naturally his feathery wings flexed, stretching outward for but a moment before furling tightly to tuck against his back. All broad shoulders and thick arms lacking the confinement of his vest or tunic. He hated wearing such garments due to the confinement they placed upon his wings, and as often as he could he went with nothing upon his torso. He eyed her suspiciously. "A valid point, I suppose. Though you said you'd been waiting for me."

Her eyes widened and her lips opened in a breathtaking smile. "Oh that's right!" Again she clapped her hands and spun about, lifting one knee onto the kitchen table and then climbing atop in a smooth and sensual bend of lean muscle. She mounted it upon all fours, the elevated angle and the arch of her hips causing her uniform skirt to ride high enough upon her haunch that the delectable curve of her backside was exposed, and turned a look at him over her shoulder. Amidst a swarm of golden hair her eyes were consumed by lust. "I was thinking here first. Then in the shower. And then again in the bed."

Ashriel's brow arched in response to this bold proposal. He folded his arms over his chest, remaining still. "What?"

She giggled girlishly. "Don't be shy, Ashriel. Look, I'm all ready for you." She reached back with her right hand and scrunched her skirt, revealing the naked, moist flesh lingering beneath.

He turned his head to the side, removing his view of her sacred privacy. "This is Iameth's doing, isn't it?"

"Yes." She purred. "He wanted to make sure that when you came to me you had something to remember. He gave me some pretty raunchy suggestions but I'm willing to try anything." Her voice filled with a softer emotion, something akin to love. "...for you."

He turned back to her. "Get down from there. You are not acting as you would. You've been mesmerized, Corinelle. Your mind has been manipulated and deceived."

All of the warmth that adorned her pretty face melted away, showing beneath it a mask of sorrow and disappointment. "So...so you won't....won't have me?" She asked as tears welled in her eyes, her thin fingers drawing from her hip the thin length of her wand.

Ashriel's silvery gaze narrowed upon the wand, his large hands dropping to his side. He kept his wand hidden upon another plane and could call it to his grasp with a thought. He would not hesitate to defend himself against her. "No. I won't have you. Now put that wand down before you make a mistak-"

Before he could finish she reached out with the wand, taking it in both hands, and slammed it into her chest, the dirk-like end piercing her flesh and driving deep between her breasts.

"No!" Ashriel barked, instantly flying forward to cross the distance between them.

Corinelle slumped back and would have toppled off the table had Ashriel not arrived, the cradle of his arm keeping her laid gently upon it. The wand protruded from her chest, her stark white shirt growing more and more stained with claret as more time passed. She gripped the wand still with both hands, her knuckles white with strength.

"You have to let go of the wand." He told her, lightly trying to pry her fingers from the hilt. "I can't heal it if you don't let go."

Her eyes - blue, wide, and filled with tears - looked up at him, and as she opened her mouth to speak blood dribbled from the sharp corner. "I know." She said weakly. "All I wanted was you..."

"No you didn't." Still he tried to peel her hands from the wand. She was losing so much blood. "You only think you do. Your mind has been twisted."

" Fla....." She coughed, a gout of crimson ichor pouring from her mouth. "Flacără!"

"No!" He roared, though it was too late, and from the hollow of her chest, where the wand had been speared within, he saw the flash of magic illuminate her flesh and blood from the inside. In his arms she jolted, stiffened, and fell away into lifelessness, even before the stench of scorched flesh filled the air.

Her hands clumsily released the wand to slap against the table, her vacant eyes staring off into an empty oblivion. Ashriel knew that his healing magic wouldn't be able to help her. It was an innate gift, something he had been born with, and it had its limits.
He could not resurrect. He could not bring the dead back to life.

Corinelle was gone.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-20 20:28 EST
Earth assessment

She was tired, as usual. Saphira rolled over to find Kish had already gone for his morning class and left a note on his pillow where she might find it. ?Don?t forget to eat. ~Kish? She smiled softly and stretched before sitting up and yawning. She stood and brushed her hair and bound it before tending her fur and looking at herself in the mirror. She looked for a while, turning to the side and running her hands over her stomach. It wasn?t as flat as it had once been, there was now a gentle suggestion of curvature there. She took a deep breath as she ran her hands slowly over herself, offering up her silent prayer all would be well. She was more frightened than she let on to anyone else, even Kish. She turned and crossed the room to the chair her uniform was draped over and began to dress herself. At this rate it would not be long before she would need to have it altered to accommodate her growing belly.

She had been reading the books Kish had gotten her and though detailed and fact-filled, they didn?t bring her comfort. She was secretly afraid of the birthing process, afraid her changing body would turn Kish off. She hid her insecurities well, and threw herself into her studies and her tasks. Today she had Mistress Praysin for Earth assessment. She pushed her worries from her mind for now and turned, catching another glimpse of the note from Kish. She sighed softly and grabbed a handful of magic beans. She would pick up something from the butcher later. The man was becoming familiar with her and they were now on friendly terms. She stepped from her room, closing the door softly behind herself and into the busy hallway. Classes were changing and students were everywhere, scurrying to class, comparing class notes, and talking to one another in the few spare moments they had before the next class would call them all away. She traversed the hallway quietly, acutely aware of when this student or that one stared at her a little longer than necessary, and heard them when they whispered about her carrying a monster?s baby.

She ignored them all outwardly and continued on to the Mistress of Earth?s chamber and knocked softly. ?Come in!? The voice sounded warm and cheerful, welcoming. Saphira nerved herself and entered, not knowing what to expect. Mist trailed her footsteps and as she came to a standstill wrapped itself around her body, twining up sensually. ?So, you are Saphira. Mistress Lyricstar has told me much about you.? She stood to move gracefully around the young girl who did not move. She smiled warmly at her, though Saphira did note she smelled earthy, warm. She smelled good, like warm stones bathed in sunlight, freshly tilled rich earth, and growing things. She inhaled and her eyes almost halfmasted in pleasure from the delightful scent relaxing a bit. Mistress Praysin was nodding as she completed her circuit of Saphira. ?You certainly seem fit for your condition, and I detect more than just a glimmer of talent in you. Tell me, sweetling, are you very familiar with Earth elementalism?? Saphira shook her head. ?No, Mistress, I have never even tried, to do it, that I can remember, though..? She trailed of flushing.

?Yes?? Praysin prompted gently. Saphira fidgeted, the fog shifting with her as she did. ?Kish says he saw me do it once, but, I don?t remember any of it.? Praysin nodded thoughtfully. ?I see. Do you think you think you could try for me, dear?? Her tone was encouraging and Saphira shrugged. ?I don?t know, I don?t know how, honestly.? Praysin looked thoughtful at this. ?Well then why don?t we start slowly? Here, I will exercise something simple and I want you to pay very close attention. Try to feel what it is I am doing and see if you can?t get a feel for it, alright?? Her voice was so encouraging and her words so logical Saphira felt compelled to try. She wanted to gain this woman?s approval, and readied herself for she knew not what. ?Yes Mistress, of course.? Her reply was met with approval and Praysin began a very low-level manipulation of earth. The stones of the floor moved and rearranged themselves revealing dark earth beneath and from this she brought forth winding roots and a simple earth elemental wrapped within them. The summoned earth spirit didn?t seem to mind the roots that wrapped it and occasionally sank into it or even moved slowly through it at its own matter shifted to accommodate this. Saphira watched silently, taking in the sight, the scent, the feel. Oh yes, she could feel it. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, her breaths becoming slower, deeper and then she made her first conscious attempt.

Roots began to creep up from between the stones, growing rapidly and twining up to cover her body much in the way they had the elemental. And like the elemental, the roots that seemed to thrust into her body did not seem to affect her. Though none came near her belly, her torso, arms and legs were wrapped and pierced, through there was no blood at all. Slowly her fur began to ruffle as though blown though there was no breeze. Then her feet began to change. First the pale flesh began to darken at the toes, and then it spread across and up, her flesh and fur alike changing to a light gray. Her scent changed as well, to that of stone and dirt, an organic smell to be sure. She was not summoning an elemental, but utilizing her own elemental blood and ability to change herself. The fog that usually drifted around her fused into her new stone-like body as a smattering of diamond dust that glittered in swirling patterns across her body. Mistress Praysin looked rather surprised.

?That wasn?t exactly what I meant. Oh, my.. My, my?well now. You certainly show aptitude, I will say that, yes indeed, goodness!? All this as she inspected the girl, even going so far as to touch her and be rewarded with the feel of stone, though Saphira was still quite obviously alive. The roots pulsated like veins and she moved and breathed as smoothly as if she were made of flesh, but she was not. But she couldn?t keep it up and within less than a moment?s time had reverted, looking exhausted. ?I?m sorry, I can?t hold it. It?s too difficult to sustain..? She seemed genuinely contrite. Praysin looked surprised. ?Sorry? Whatever for? That was beautifully done sweetling. You just need some guidance as you don?t seem to be able to fully direct it, and you will need to work on your endurance as well.? Saphira smiled, pleased she had done well, and more pleased at the praise she received. ?Thank you, Mistress, very much.? Praysin smiled kindly. ?Of course, dearling. Tell me, have you been feeling well? I know you carry the magic eater?s offspring. Have you been resting enough?? Saphira flushed, as the mist rose again around her. ?Yes, Mistress. Master Menolymus said he will be teaching me to draw energy from the flame as well to keep me from having any accidents.? Praysin nodded. ?Very good. You may be able to do the same of earth as you are what you are. We?ll see what we can do with that as well. The more you can draw on, the stronger you will become, and you will need it without doubt.?

Saphira nodded contemplatively. ?Yes Mistress Praysin, thank you.? She received a smile from the moon elf. ?Wonderful, dearling. Now, off with you. I will see you next week and we will begin your lessons in earnest.? ?Yes, Ma?am.? Saphira turned and walked out quietly, relieved it had gone well. She hurried down the hall to Mistress Lyricstar?s class to help with tutoring and setting up for the class? upcoming exams.

Praysin steepled her fingers and glanced to Jankins. ?Lovely girl, don?t you think?? The minotaur nodded with a rumble. ?Pretty, yeah. Is it lunch time yet??

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-02-20 22:46 EST
She didn?t feel like studying, but she did. She didn?t feel like practicing, but she did.

She didn?t even feel like talking. But she did.

In fact, the one thing she really felt like doing - locking herself away in the dorm room and burrowing under her blankets, preferably with Albion - simply didn?t happen.

Quillyan?s eyes, distant and flat, peered blankly above the pages of her text, solely mesmerized by her internal deliberation. She had escaped to Teas 'n' Tomes earlier in the evening, hoping that the change in scenery would lighten her mood; instead, she found herself starting at the walls and wondering how much longer she?d last at the Institute.

Most likely to wash out? She?d made that list before - in fact, she and Blizzard were the first. He seemed to be holding his own these days, finding plentiful success in both academics and relationships, while those areas were proving particularly, grievously troublesome for this novice. Hah, Featherweight, she thought bitterly to herself, Intellectual featherweight, magical featherweight, featherweight person -- person of no consequence.

It had been a bad week.

Quillyan was not the most naturally gifted student in the school, and even the smallest successes were earned only through considerable effort. Still, she believed that she was excelling in a couple of her classes, one of them being Mistmark?s Spell Composition, and she took a great deal of pride in the modest victory.

Until a couple of days ago.

After dismissing the other students, Marius Mistmark held her back with the gentle information that her recent performance had been unacceptable. Shocked into soul-rending silence, she had only stared, blinking, mouth agape, as the charismatic instructor outlined a plan for additional tutoring time. He had smiled at her, perhaps to rekindle their pleasant, almost playful rapport, and finally, she found the inspiration for a weak nod.

She couldn?t herself to breathe until she was safely outside his classroom, for she was devastated by news of her own failure.

Combined with her dire struggles in Smout?n?s class, recent conflicts with peers, lingering tension with Albion, and almost no time with friends, the last shreds of her confidence were rapidly vanishing into the ether.

The door chimed as someone entered the shop, disrupting her somber, self-pitying reverie. She had to keep studying. The alternative was...

...terrifying.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-21 15:29 EST
{Kish and Margot}

Kish was pouring over a book on abjuration and taking notes when Margot came up to him with a friendly smile. ?Kish, hi!? She fluttered her lashes at him beguilingly and gave him her prettiest smile. ?How are you?? She inquired. Kish looked up with a friendly smile. ?Not bad, doing a little studying. What?s up, Margot?? Margot pulled a chair out and settled beside him. ?I finished the book Floes and flows, and wanted to ask you a few questions, if you don?t mind?? Kish looked back to his notes and sighed softly, tucking them into the book as a bookmark before closing the tome. ?Sure. What would you like to know?? ?Well,? Margot began. ?I was wondering about how Ice can be made to move like water. It didn?t go much in depth and I?m not very good with ice at all. Mistress Lyricstar told me I?m in danger of failing.? Lying through those pearly fangs.

Kish nodded thoughtfully. ?Ice is my forte, certainly, but you might want to check into a few more books before trying to apply ..sorry I?m getting ahead of myself. Ice is water, Water flows, Right? The only difference is Ice is solid and water is not. Magic allows you to manipulate the very same molecules to your whims but most people get balked by the thought that ice cannot be made to move and flow. It can very easily but it?s more personal hang-ups and the thought you ?know? ice can?t move.? He shook his head. ?You have to remember with magic we are not limited to the so-called laws of nature, but rise above to manipulate them.? Margot nodded and smiled, inwardly wanting to strangle him til he turned blue so he would shut up. He sounded like a book, and she was less than interested in the subject to begin with. ?Wonderful!? She beamed at him. ?I?m certain I will be able to try it soon. Do you think you might be willing to give me some private lessons? I know Saphira is so busy, and I just know you could help me.?

She used only the barest hint of her natural charms to help suggest it might be a good idea. Kish mulled it over for a bit. ?I don?t see what it could hurt, Saph is usually busy Fridays and Sundays now with fire training, I could see you then?? ?Perfect!? Margot clapped her hands together in false glee. ?Thank you Kish! Saphira told me you?re positively brilliant, I know you?ll be a wonderful teacher. I can?t wait for you to teach me a thing or two.? There was the barest hint of innuendo there as she spoke that last. She leaned in and hugged him. ?Thanks, Kish!? She stood up and turned to flounce out. Now she had regular access to him. She planned to play up to him, gain his trust and then convince Saphira he was cheating on her. It was perfect.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-23 09:41 EST
Dream-catcher

Nightmares. She knew about those. Damien had told her Vliss was having terrible nightmares after she had been killed in the self-same forest Saphira had had her own horrible encounter in. She shuddered softly with these thoughts as she searched for the perfect..ah! She walked toward a particularly delicate looking willow with branches that were thin and flexible. she selected one and cut a suitable length, then a few more. They would be the hoops.

Willows were known to have magical properties and be associated with dream magic. She had not made her selection idly. She tucked the willow branches into her bag and turned for town. There was a shop that sold beads, and she soon arrived to be greeted with surprised and curious looks for her fur. This she payed no heed and began searching. Row after row of beads, glittering, sparkling, some light, others dark. Glass, stone, bone, wood and coral. every manner of thing a bead could be crafted from they had.

Eventually she found what she wanted. Beads that had been crafted from amethyst and quartz. Stones said to be useful in both dreams and the banishment of evil magics. 'Surely it could not hurt to add these.' She thought to herself. She selected three large amethyst and two medium quartz beads and took them to pay. Three gold was handed over and she left with her prize. She had one last stop to make now. The tanner's. She took her time, after all she enjoyed the market, despite the occasional odd look she got. But before too long she found herself at her destination and inside. "Hello?" She called out.

A stout ruddy faced man emerged from the back, wearing a thick leather apron and gloves. He was bald but he had a very impressive black mustache. "Can I help you, young lady?" He inquired as he eyed her. "I was hoping you might have some leather, something in white?" The man dragged his gaze back to her face. "I might. Wait here." And off he went into another room and was for a good while. Eventually he emerged holding some long thin strips of snow-white suede. "Will this do? It's all I have and it's left over from an order I had from the cobbler for some boots he was making." Saphira nodded. "That's perfect! How much?" The man looked at her then the meager offering before thrusting it to her. "Just take it. It's not enough to pay for, they're just scraps."

She positively beamed as the took the scraps. "Thank you!" And with that she impulsively kissed the man's cheek and opened a portal back to her own dorm room where Lune was waiting for her. She stepped through and closed it talking to him excitedly as she stepped through. "I got everything, Lune. Come see!" The owl, not terribly interested in a bunch of sticks and leather scraps flew to her shoulder to look anyway playing with her hair. He did seem to take a shine to the beads, as the were very sparkly. Saphira laughed. "I thought you would like those. I'm making a dream catcher for Vliss. She's been having nightmares. Damien told me." Lune tilted his head nearly upside-down and looked at the mess on the desk. He didn't see how all this would become anything else, so he decided to watch. It might be interesting.

She took up the willow fronds and stripped the of any budding leaves, fashioning them into perfectly rounded hoops of a few sizes. these she carefully wrapped in the strips of white suede so soon she had several white hoops before her. She tied the ends carefully and made certain they would not unravel. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out the spool of silver cord she'd bought before. It blistered her fingers and she dropped it. The blisters would heal, but much more slowly than they normally would have for she was 'allergic' to silver. 'Ow!" She shook her head and opened a drawer in her desk pulling out gloves and slipping them on before picking up the thread. She carefully unwound it, tying one end to the rim of the largest hoop and began to weave.

Carefully she stretched and pulled the thread, slipping the beads in place here and there. Soon the first hoop was done and had five sparkling beads hanging like dewdrops on spun moonlight. It was very pretty. The smaller hoops were next. she spent the same care weaving them, though they had no beads added to them. Instead she took a pair of shears and cut some of her own fur and tied tufts of it to each hoop with the silver thread in the woven web. Next she carefully lashed the hoops together, arranging the largest top-center and the smaller bottom sides. Almost done. Lune seemed to be quite impressed and even he thought they were nice looking.

"Almost done. Lune, would you be so kind as to perhaps allow me a few feathers? I know you're molting, would it be alright?" The owl tilted his head. What she she want old feathers for? But curiosity got the better of him and he pulled a few loose feathers free, dropping them before her. She scritched his head lovingly. "Thank you, Lune." The feathers were tied to several lengths of the silver thread and tied to the bottom of the entire thing. she held it up for inspection. The feathers had been the perfect finishing touch. "What do you think?" Lune coo'd his approval and promptly demanded she scratch him. She laughed. "Alright. lets go put this outside Vliss' and Damien's door where Vliss one of them will find it. I told Damien I was making it."

She kept the gloves on so as not to blister her fingers again, and left her room, Lune still perched on her shoulder. eventually she found Vliss and Damien's room. She hung the dream-catcher from the doorknob and knocked firmly before turning and heading to class. She took her gloves off to see her sore fingers were still blistered. They likely would be for a while. But it was worth it.

http://www.genesisimports.net/buy/images/small/White%20Beaded%20Dream%20Catcher%205x13.JPG

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-02-23 17:02 EST
The night proved to be prosperous.

Brais and Fleur returned from the Fashion Show together, the gate spell spilling them both entwined upon the couch situated squarely in the center of their living area. Their dormitory was a mid-level chamber, with two bedrooms branching off of a main quarter, which gave them more than enough room to explore their every thought and desire.

Aided by the treat of cupcakes liberated from the celebration's dessert table, the two wizards indulged in a rather imaginative usage of such delicious accessories to accentuate an already torrid passion. Hours were mindlessly devoured, swallowed up in the salacious pull of comingled, sweat-soaked bodies whose hunger seemed impossible to appease.

Endurance was depleted to the point of exhaustion and slumber soon claimed them both.

Brais awoke the following morn to find his lover having already fled to begin her day. He could still feel the silken touch of her lips upon his mouth and smell that delightful scent of hers; hinting at a retreat that was not so long ago.

He rolled from the couch and made his way to the shower, washing the sticky remnants of the previous night from his body beneath the lavation of warm water and soap. Ivory hair plastered to the sinewy ribbons that webbed his masculine frame, lovers beneath the deluge as he and Fleur had been just hours previous.

He departed and toweled off, donning the honor of his mage attire with careful regard. Station was an important protocol to Brais Galician. It had been so his entire life, and would remain so forever. Station, ambition, was not a part of life. It was life.

With his wand sheathed at the small of his back and his spell book tucked safely within his wide sleeve, he stepped from the Chamber Borage and into a frantic current of students, all of whom were chin down and engrossed in gossip.

He watched them all pass - a wave of hushed hearsay - and narrowed his dark eyes. With a viper's deadly quickness he lashed out with his hand and took a robed wizard by the shoulder, the flex of muscle reeling him in, drawing him away from the swarm. "Novitiate Phomaih." He hissed. "What is the meaning of all this?"

With his cloak scrunched up around his chin, Kish couldn't help the natural widening of his brilliant blue eyes in such close quarters with the Mage. He swallowed hard, resolve quivering beneath the domineering glower of Brais, and trembling lips parted to explain. "Down the ha-hall." He swallowed again. "A girl committed...."

The obsidian stare boring into Kish glanced up to take in the image of the distant door where Evahlys emerged upon a stern step, the floating disk behind her carrying a human form draped in a dark cloth. She barked at several students who lingered too near and made her way down the hall toward the Infirmary.

"Suicide?" Brais asked, his gaze returning.

Kish nodded quickly, golden locks bouncing across sapphire gems. "Oh yea. I guess she'd been going on and on about not being able to make it. Thought she was going to flake out or something." He sighed, turning to the side to watch the Nurse-Mistress fade down the corridor. "Some just can't hack it."

"Indeed." Brais said sharply, drawing the smaller Novitiate roughly to his side, clearing the path for the thundering stride of a massive blue Minotaur. It appeared that Sartha was not in the most jovial of moods.
Brais said nothing as the titanic bovine snarled and sniffed around, stalking here and there before prowling off in search of answers offered elsewhere. When the path was clear he turned back to Kish. "Who found her?"

"Ashriel." He said with a nod. "The Overseer of Viperfang."

"Is that so?" The Mage asked with an arching white brow. "And what would a Sorcerer want with a worthless Novitiate?"

Kish gave him a dry look. "Um, not all of us Novitiate's are worthless, you know."

Brais offered no answer, his attention now focused on something far more important. What would the Overseer of House Viperfang be doing wandering around the common dormitory to conveniently find a girl having just committed suicide? Far too coincidental as far as he was concerned.

"Will they resurrect her?" Kish asked.

Brais shook his head. "Doubtful. I've heard stories that the Mastema does not permit resurrection. I'll assume that she will be taken to Master Smout'n so that he may converse with her spirit to find more details."

Kish nodded, though that only lasted but a moment. He turned a look back up to Brais. "If the Mastema doesn't allow rez, then how did Vliss come back?"

Still contemplating the scenario, Brais nearly missed the question. He glanced at the inquisitive Novitiate. "A persistent, if not unimportant question, Novice. Why not spoil her ears with your breath instead of mine?"

Kish blinked at the sudden austerity, nodding. "Sorry, Mage Galician." With a step, he vanished into the flowing horde of students, leaving Brais to stand alone once more just outside his door.

Brais was not convinced, and wanted to know more. He stepped from the doorway and moved into the crowd, making sure that his presence amongst them was not mistaken for an equal. He was there superior and made it known.

He needed questions answered and to do that he would need a Necromancer, though one that he could get to do as he needed. He needed one who wouldn't question his agenda, but would follow his command without question.

He needed Jannara.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-02-23 20:49 EST
She snuck away from school for a little bit. It was during her free time and the tension in their suite of rooms had her annoyed. Between Ashriel, Cinder and Mercedes, she wanted to scream...

Or hide, which is what she was doing now. It was bad with Elkinid avoiding her and the looks she was getting from Uziya. She just wanted to scream at the guys to stop playing games with her and realize she had feelings too. Coupled with Zabdiel's disappearance, she was feeling very much unwanted.

Elkinid's actions hurt the most. She should have known better. He did this to her before... raised her hopes then crushed them with his disinterest. She was crying in her rooms at the manor, feeling like a fool.

She had a place to retreat and lick her wounds and release the pain and tears that had been building.

No one wanted her...

(Cross posted in House Soulbinder)

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-02-23 21:38 EST
All the world is a stage

Margot had over heard Brais and Kish in the hallway. A sinister smile touched her lips as a plan formulated. This was just the opening she needed to begin putting the wedge in place. She hurried after Kish once Brais had finished with him catching up. "Did you hear about the.." "Suicide?" Kish finished with a nod. "Yeah." Margot fluttered her lashes. "Just dreadful. Anyone you know?" Kish shook his head. "No." Margot pursed her lips. "So much going on lately. Too many terrible things. Has Saphira heard yet?" Kish looked at Margot sharply. "No, And I don't plan on telling her. she doesn't need to be worrying over anything now other than her studies and the baby."

Margot lifted a delicate hand to her breastbone. "Of course! She looked so very tired the other evening. You shouldn't tell her you're right. It might upset her. I have to go, but do tell Saphira I said hello for me?" She turned and glided down the hallway self satisfied. She soon found her next target. Saphira.

She coo'd to the girl. "Saphira! How good to see you! Are you feeling any better sweetie?" Her voice all honey and kindness. Saphira looked up a little surprised. "I'm alright." Offering a wan smile as she dropped her books with a wince. "Oh.." She sighed in frustration as she stooped to pick them up. Margot was quick to notice the cause. "What happened to your hands?" Saphira flushed. "Allergic reaction. I was working with some silver and the gloves were not thick enough." Margot appeared sympathetic. "Why don't you let me carry those for you to your next class? It's no trouble, I promise." She smiled winningly at the younger girl. Saphira hesitated the nodded offering the books. Her hands really hurt terribly.

"Thanks, Margot." Gratefully. "So, how are you? How's the studying coming?" Margot purred to her. "Quite well. Kish is seeing me when you see Master Menolymus for fire training. I hope to soon catch up in my classes." Margot gave Saphira a sidelong look, noting the slight swelling of her abdomen. "You're starting to show. So, what are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?" Saphira fidgeted a little. "I just want it healthy." And not a mindless beast was the silent thought that followed. "A noble desire." Margot nodded. So, what does Kish think about all this? Is he excited?" She kept her tone friendly as though Kish were even the father though they both knew the truth. As did everyone.

They arrived at Saphira's next class. "He's fine." She wasn't certain how exactly to answer that one. Margot handed her books back to her careful not to injure her red and blistered hands further. "I'm sure he is. and besides, you're very pretty. And so sweet. I'm sure even as you grow larger he will only dote upon you more. Those other girls are a dime a dozen." She offered a smile that was so falsely genuine it would have fooled anyone. Saphira nodded. "Thanks you for your..kind words." Margot had struck a chord with her. She was afraid Kish would not find her attractive when she got larger. Margot turned to head to her own class. "See you later, Saphira!" She almost crooned. Her glee she managed to subdue. She had coaxed Saphira's seed of doubt to germinate.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-02-24 09:39 EST
What a tangled web we weave...

She'd been watching Akemi for a while now. He was confident, adept, and handsome. He knew it, too. It had intrigued her, his confidence. She had always hunted, and nothing but that which should provide her a challenge. It took him by surprise when while talking to a novitiate he found a delicately clawed hand resting on his shoulder, a whisper purred into his ear.

"Come with?" Akemi turned and found himself mesmerized by stunning eyes that flickered through colors faster than his mind could register them. He blinked allowing his gaze to drift over the siren who stood before him now, her body held invitingly, her scent sweet. "Do I know you?" He inquired, licking his suddenly dry lips. He wanted her, suddenly and powerfully he wanted her. Almalthia's eyes slid down his body pausing at the evidence of his desire. "Want to..Promise." Came the whispered purr.

Her suggestion had him forgetting the first year he was speaking to, forget even the fact they were in an open hallway. Confidently he moved, guiding her back to the wall and bending to seek her mouth. He was rewarded with those sensual lips, eager tongue and razor teeth. Yes, teeth he found gripping him all too quickly. She'd had moved easily and he had not noticed in his haze of excitement just how quickly lips had dragged down his throat to pull back revealing eviscerating teeth now lightly gripping him. He knew in that instant, one jerk, one wrong move, or her own whim could end him then and there.

And it excited him more. He pressed himself firmly against her, his desire hard and insistent. Almalthia enjoyed this, lived for it, the hunt. Men were her prey, women, it did not matter to her she hunted and took them all. She slipped from him, releasing her grip on his throat and beckoning him follow. The broom closet was surprisingly uncluttered, never-mind the students milling around outside. A simple charm locked it from the inside and Akemi turned to her. He was almost shocked at this creature he now saw. Delicate clawed fingers were webbed, tentacles writhed and lifted fron the oceanic waves of her silken hair and her eyes burned ruby. And yet he was still achingly undeniably aroused.

He watched as she sensually undressed, made it an art. his pulse thundered in his ears and his breath came shallow as he watched her slowly exposing creamy flesh for his delight. As the last of her uniform pooled to her feet he resisted no more taking her up in his arms and setting her upon a small shelf that presented just enough room for her pert bottom. His fingers flew as he unfastened his belt, and trousers and with a swift movement took her. His hands roamed as they moved together, eager, too eager. He had not payed attention to the long bone blades protruding along her spine and as he peaked he brushed one with his forearm in his frantic grappling of her sweet body and the venom entered his bloodstream.

Almalthia growled softly as she felt him go rigid then begin to slump. She caught him with an impossibly strong grip, preventing him from crumpling to the floor completely. Akemi could still think, could feel but his body rebelled against him. He could not move. The next thing he heard was her whisper.
Could have been good, Akemi. Were too eager.. The tone almost disappointed. Then she gently lay his paralyzed body down and dressed herself. Next she fastened his trousers and belt while crooning a whisper to him. "Not worry, only stun. Soon will be fine though not remember. Never remember." Almost purring, her tone reassuring.

Inwardly she was again bitterly disappointed. Another one not having been worth hunting. She released the charm on the door and slipped out unnoticed. Akemi swore he would have his vengeance on her for this humiliation, even as the venom overwhelmed his spent body. A vengeance he would forget to exact as he succumbed to unconsciousness and slept. He would wake many hours later, feeling well rested and groggy with no memory as to how he came to be in the broom closet.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-02-24 17:25 EST
Games - Part One

There was a natural grace that fluidly afflicted the stride of Grant Palamine, making every motion seem effortless and attractive all at once. How could one seem to be careless and yet so precise? It was a conundrum that very few could answer, and it was this alluring gait that led him through the door of the east-wing study where steps descended to the game-room below.

As he made his way down the carpeted steps his senses were assailed by the smell of cigar smoke and rich brandy. The former was a scent that embraced the dark wood edging the walls, ingrained into the stained trim from years of wafting celebration. The latter was a current aroma, one wrought of the expensive drink that sat open upon a nearby table; bottle and twin glasses nearly full.

Grant reached the bottom, entering into a chamber he was quite familiar with. Games were his life, after all, which was the reason he was there. The room was decorated with the recognizable sight of plush, wingback chairs, an assortment of dartboards and other wall-hung games, and a billiard table that dominated the center of the room beneath a low hung chandelier. The carpet was lush and burgundy, which heightened the darker hue of the trimming and paint, casting the entire room into an ambiance of somber refinement.

"Mister Palamine." Came the distinctive voice of the creature stretched across the pool table in mid-stroke, lavender flesh and sinew enclosed beneath leathery wings. With a thrust of the arm the tip of the cue drove the white ball forward, clacking it against the yellow ball that angled off and dropped into one of the pockets along side of the table. "I was hoping you'd be joining us." A fiendish grin was awarded to the newly arrived apprentice before attention swiveled to the leggy brunette standing on the other side of the table. "Shoes." He purred.

Grant glanced to the side, finding the source of the brandy aroma sitting idly upon a sterling serving tray. He claimed the glass and brought it to his lips, indulging in the velvet offering. "A fine choice." He said offhandedly.

"Isn't she?" Iameth asked, moving around the table as the female removed her single-strap shoes and placed them off to the side. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

With glass in hand Grant made his way across the room, his eyes falling to the balls scattered about the table. He'd played that game often and knew the rules immediately. Numerical sequence leading to the dismissal of all balls until only the white one remained. "I was hoping you might offer a bit of assistance." He admitted as he paused to sample the drink once more. "My attempts at Damien and Vliss seem futile."

"Futile?" Iameth said the word as though impressed that it was a part of Grant's vocabulary. He set the stick again and with another pistoning drive clacked the white ball into the blue, glancing just off the edge, sending the sapphire sphere trickling across the felt and sinking it into the corner pocket. "Blouse. It's only been a short time, Grant, and here you stand declaring your defeat. How inept."

The impact of Iameth's label was softened a bit as Grant watched the woman carefully unbutton her uniform blouse with long, elegant fingers. Once completed she pulled it apart at the center and let it fall from her lengthy arms, revealing the ample endowment hidden beneath, now only bathed in the lacy cups of her underclothes. Grant cleared his throat, turning his chin to Iameth even though his eyes remained upon the lithe beauty. "I am undone by their attraction, which seems genuine and potent. Temptation is futile in the face of true emotion."

Iameth moved around the table again, cunning eyes internally organizing his next attack, though as he passed by the girl he couldn't help but let the tip of his cue dip beneath her skirt and draw it teasingly upward. She giggled, a sound of innocent purity, and pushed the hem back down as she slapped playfully at the wandering cue. "You sell the result far shorter than it truly is." He said as he lowered to look down the length of the cue stick. "From the sounds of it your efforts are what failed you, not the outcome."

"Is that so?" Grant asked as he took another sip, draining the glass far too quickly. A battle of wit with Iameth was hardly something he wished to engage in, and the drink gave a viable excuse to stall or bide time depending on the response. Drink too fast and not only would he be out of the time consuming excuse, but then he'd have to fend off Iameth and the rush of inebriation.

The white ball ricocheted off the near wall and angled to collide with the red ball, slamming it into the pocket where it had settled upon the lip. "Absolutely." Iameth smirked and then glanced to the girl. "Hairpin." He moved around the table, pupiless eyes narrowed upon the remaining spheres. "You see, Master Palamine, your deficiency is not that your attempts have been futile, but that they've been limited. Rather than noting your prey's weakness and attacking it you are just throwing out the same velvet voice and silken smile and hoping that it works. Vliss and Damien are two entwined for simple seduction."

The edges of Grant's vision were starting to blur, though he was able to make out the girl as she withdrew the thin needle that kept her brown hair nestled at the crown of her head. It fell in chocolate rivulets, pouring down her slender neck to splash across her shoulders. After a moment he moved to one of the chairs near the billiards table and took a seat, needing to relax. "Care to enlighten?"

Iameth drew back the stick and paused, turning his fiendish gaze over his shoulder to observe the reclined lothario. "Certainly." He turned back to stare at the target point upon the cue ball. "Glasses." The word was followed by the telltale clack and then the deep impact of the purple ball falling into the side pouch. With a defiant smirk the girl drew the glasses from her pretty green eyes, folded them, and set them near her shoes.

"Take my recent victory, Elkinid'Qualn and Angelica." He said as he started around the table. "I've never truly interacted with either, and yet through a simple study of my prey I was able to sever their tie."

"How so?"

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-02-24 17:28 EST
Games - Part Two


Clack, clack, thunk, and the orange ball vanished. "Your skirt." Iameth said with a wink to the girl before turning his attention fully upon Grant. "Well, if you take a look at my targets they each have a pattern, though the one who held the most weight was Angelica. Angelica Tanner is spoiled. Ask her and she will tell you she has it harder than anyone at the school, but we all know that isn't true. She's constantly in her mother's ear, steering events as she sees fit. She focuses mostly on her weapons training." He lowered at the waist, preparing another shot, right in front of where the beauty sent her skirt racing down the length of her legs with a small wiggle at the hips. She wore black hose beneath, the pink frill of her panties barely peeking through. "Hell, she even had her mother bring in a weapon master." A forward thrust and the balls were colliding, a few bouncing off one another before sending the green ball to its demise. "Bra." He grinned before stepping around the table again. "How absurd is that? A weapon master? At a school of magic?" He almost had the stick set for another shot but paused, standing up to lean against it. "I remember a few years back during her novitiate year the Mastema ordered that new arrivals partake in a challenge where they were to acquire the bone of a dragon." He turned wicked eyes upon Grant. "One of her family members gave her one. Just gave it to her! How spoiled must one be if their own family will give them bones? And how spoiled must one be to think nothing of just asking for the required item rather than gaining it through their own efforts? After all, it was the honor of the Primorius Discipulus swaying in the balance." He laughed and lowered again, setting up the next shot.

"I'm not sure that explains how you were able to split them." Grant chimed as he downed the remainder of the brandy. As the smooth liquor flowed along his throat his eyes parted upon the bottle it came from, still sitting on the tray near the stairs. If he needed more it was well within reach.

The next ball was dark red and stood off center of the table, though in line with it was the ensuing black ball that sat just at the lip of the far corner pocket. "Manipulation is only successful if organized in unison with things that we can control." He lined up the tip of the stick with the cue ball and drew back his arm. "Angelica Tanner is spoiled, and always gets what she wants. She wanted Elkinid. She wanted him to want her. That's why I saw to it that his workload was nearly tripled, all in the name of making up lost time that was wasted on his secret mission. He's been far too busy to build a relationship." He speared the stick forward, striking the cue ball near the top. Impact transferred english, and as the seven ball struck the eight and sent it into the pocket, it followed behind with a forward roll.

The girl, hugging herself with slender arms that were barely able to shelter the ample shape of her topless bosom, gasped in shock as with one stroke he sank two balls. She turned to face him, to protest, though had no argument.

"Hose and panties, my dear. Let's go." The instructions were given offhandedly, his attention diverted to the conclusion of his diatribe. "Cinder reported this morning that Mage Tanner has fled the school in need of solace that can only be given from her homestead. I'm assuming this is in conjunction with the pain of not receiving the attention she desperately required from Elkinid'qualn."

Grant circled the empty rim of his glass mindlessly, orchestrating a high-pitched-and-yet-soothing sound while watching the girl tuck her thumbs into the waistband of her hose and peel them off her hips. By doing so she was forced to release the harness masking her breasts, allowing them to bounce and swing free with her movements and motions. Iameth was a crass, debased, bastard. But something had to be said for what he could achieve.

"It's like billiards." Iameth further explained, spying the victory of the game in that single ball left on the table, idly awaiting being buried within the nearby pocket. "Anyone can hit a ball into the hole. That's not the game. The game is doing so while plotting your next move. Completing one task while positioning yourself for the subsequent strike." He situated into his stance, placing the tip of the cue stick inside the hoop of his thumb and ring finger, and took aim. With only his eyes Iameth looked to the girl who now stood naked, one arm holding her delectable breasts, the other extended to shield her curly chocolate grove with her flat hand. She was holding her breath, waiting to see what happened next.

He wasn't even looking at the table when he stroked forward, slamming the white ball into the striped yellow and sinking it into the awaiting pit. The backspin on the cue ball sent it recoiling away from the pocket, its momentum fading at the very center of the table.

"Seems I'm the winner." He said to her as he stood tall, the proud show of his sturdy shoulders and strong chest both enticing and arrogant all at once. He feigned a look of uncertainty. "Did we have a wager on whether or not I could finish the game without giving you a single turn?"

They certainly had, and the severity of their previous gamble suddenly weighed heavily upon her mind and soul, as was expressed in the dubious look on her pretty face. "You ...I mean, we weren't serious..."

"We certainly were." He said, the liveliness of his voice dropping to a dread sternness.

She swallowed hard, her features becoming as blank and as helpless as her options. She dropped her hands to her sides, unveiling the sensual beauty of her naked body and cleared her throat. "Fine." Was all that she said as she turned and started away.

The melody that played across the glass top came to an end as Grant watched her, and once she took her suggestive stance he slowly shifted his eyes back to Iameth.

Iameth's diabolical features were tightly adorned in a sinful grin, his graceful step taking him away from the table and, not toward her, but toward Grant. "Things have been too strict as of late, Mister Palamine. We're in need of a party. House Viperfang has long been renowned for its Masquerade parties, though why should we restrict the fun to only us? Let's invite all of the Houses. I'm putting you in charge of organizing the event. Let's say a week's time?"

Grant laughed. "I know nothing of organizing such a festivity."

"True." Iameth nodded as he tossed the apprentice his cue stick. "I guess you'll need help."

Grant caught the stick with both hands. He may have been a little buzzed by his instincts and coordination were still keen. "Help? Who could possibly help me get a party of this magnitude ready before-" The clarity of the situation struck him like a fist, and slowly a knowing smile crept along the handsome line of his lips. "Actually, I think I know of someone who would be perfect."

"Tell Miss Arcanum I said hello." He turned his attention to the departing woman. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have rather lucrative winnings to procure."

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-25 10:37 EST
Odd Interests Shared? Or Veiled Interests Concealed?
Part 1
Chamber Epazote
Whisper soft, her movements mimicked those of a great cat though her form was that of a young woman. The door to her dorm room opened and entrance gained with no warning to the couple discussing things over a bottle of wine.

She arched one brow, the piercing glinting dangerously at the sight of Grail at home upon her couch. Cadence's delightfully artful tones plucking at the heartstrings as she laughed at something he said.

"Mystri!" Cadence exclaimed and set forward on the couch to offer introductions, "Have you met Grail--"

"Nope."

"Well he's with my House--"

"Cool."

"And he was just asking me about--"

"Busy."

The door to her room opened and closed as she disappeared inside leaving Cadence to find a socially graceful way to maneuver around her roommate's lack of manners.


An hour later Mystri emerged to find them still conversing contentedly. Her keen ears having caught every nuance of their conversation despite the closed door.

Bluntly she queried, "What's your interest in Twilight Island?"

As if startled Grail turned his attention to the shapeshifter and affected a sigh, "Alas, I believe the place to hold the key to infinite mysteries yet can entice none to share in my enthusiasm."

She narrowed mint blue eyes upon him and slid forward on a nearly boneless glide of feline grace.

The knock at the door did nothing to stop her progress as she crowded him back upon the couch, encroaching into his space and deliberately drawing a deep nasal inhale when mere inches from him.

From the doorway Cadence's brightly cheerful, "Blizzard!" was joined by the unmistakeable voice of the Abjurist.

Grail held still beneath the animalistic perch of Mystriana, his gaze tranquil as if unbothered by her unsettling nearness.

"I'm sorry Grail, I've got to run, it's time for that concert..." Cadence frowned at the two upon the couch, "Did you want to join us?"

"He'll be staying here." Mystri turned her head, and only her head, in the direction of the doorway and offered a brief smile for Blizzard.

As they departed, Mystri slowly turned those glittering eyes back to the slender man upon her couch and bit out, "You stink."

Undeterred, he offered an ambiguous smile, "And you have no understanding of personal boundaries."

"If you wish to speak to me about the Islands, you'll bathe the stench of undeath from your flesh."

And she turned from him to curl up before the fire.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-25 10:50 EST
Odd Interests Shared? Or Veiled Interests Concealed?
Part 2 Chamber Epazote

Grail considered the feline sprawl before the fireplace and then rose from the couch with a grace all his own. He'd lit upon the Islands as a bridge to form a connection with the eerily inhuman girl and was not surprised by the nibbling upon his baited hook.

However, he'd never been ordred to bathe before either.

Moving toward the bathroom he idly questioned, "Is it safe to use any of this stuff in here?" Motioning to the assortment of bottles that belonged to Cadence.

Mystri lifted her head and watched him for a long moment as if weighing the outcome of him actually doing as she demanded, "Knock yourself out."

The door closed, the shower ran. As he reached for the towel he was unbalanced by the proffered item by a milk pale hand. Mystri sat perched upon the sink and had quite obviously been watching him. Her silence was startling. Keeping his composure he applied the towel to his thin frame and smoothly requested, "My clothes?"

"Stink of undeath." She unfolded her lithe frame from her perch and made her way for the door again, "Stay in the towel."

He cleared his throat to mask his discomfort and once he managed to regain his composure and dab away most of the moisture that clung to his scholar's body, he moved to accompany her, wrapped only in a towel.

Settling upon the couch he gave her the opening as she seemed determined to keep the upper hand.

"Your interest?"

His smile was cordial, "Fascinated. The Islands remain weighted in mystery and magic and few know much about them."

"You're playing me." She circled him, seated upon the couch and he kept his gaze driven forward refusing to crane his neck to follow her though the hair at the nape of his neck prickled in the warning sensation of imminent danger.

"No. Though I won't lie I am aware that you share some connection to the island and wish to explore it."

"For Viper Fang?" She was fairly unaware of how the House rivalries worked and treaded upon uncertain ground. Stopping directly behind him to deliver her question.

He resisted the urge to move though the muscles in his shoulders tensed, "For myself. I would know more of the magical races that inhabited the islands. Like yourself."

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-02-25 11:01 EST
Odd Interests Shared? Or Veiled Interests Concealed?
Part 3 Chamber Epazote

"And what do you think you know about me?" She mounted the back of the couch in a fluid motion that had her draping herself across it and by default his shoulders. Her pink tipped platinum hair framing her face as she leaned about to find his eyes with her own.

He swallowed at her nearness, her unmistakeably predatorial nature, but it was fascination that filled his gaze, not fear, "You're not human, you're not like any known shapeshifter I've ever encountered and I've dissected plenty." He angled toward her, interest evident, "What are you?" The question breathed.

She dripped down from the back of the couch to occupy the space beside him, leaning in, encroaching again as she slid her tongue up the naked damp expanse of his chest, the rough pad of it like a cat's.

He shuddered.

She arrived at the flat male nipple and as her tongue flickered out it was forked like a snake's, teasingly flirtatious where it slid about his flesh.

He moaned.

Arriving at his neck it was the fanged maw of a wolf that threatened to snap shut, the graze of teeth threatening.

He let his eyes drift shut and arched his throat for her.

And finally she brushed the feathered softness against his cheek, her words chirpingly sweet against his ear, "Maybe I'll show you."

He whispered, "Please."

Suddenly bereft as she departed. The warmth of her lithe body gone. He snapped his eyes open and was greeted with the flicker of motion near her door seconds before he heard it close, her voice lingering on the air, "Twilight Island. Tomorrow Night. If you can find me."

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-02-25 17:41 EST
Nemese Pausanias moved like a silent wraith through the hallowed halls of the Institute of Arcane Principle. Hers was the work of the unnoticed. Always, she hovered near Thea?s side, a quiet girl who rarely garnered a memory. Forever dismissed as ?Thea?s Sister.?

It had been the cutting deliverance of Mistress Lillura?s words that had kept her up that night:

?Who are you again??
?Nemese. Nemese Pausanias.?
?Are you even ?in- my class??
?I?ve been here all semester, Mistress Lillura.?
?Wait, you?re Thea?s shadow. Ahh, yes, completely forgettable.?

Frozen, Nemese had been the recipient of amused chuckles from Faetha, Felix, and Benedykt: a rare shared moment for the rivals of notable houses.

And she could offer little in the way of insult in return. House Gorgon Horn was disappearing. Thea?s demand (that only those who had lineage in the great House?s history) had severely limited their enrollment.

It was one thing for her to take the insult, quite another for her noble house to suffer the fate of disappearing from recognition.

Thea held to the distinction of Gorgon?s history. They were the First House. One of the original incarnations of the Institute?on a realm far from this one?had held the glorious ancestry of their founders. Now, moved to RhyDin, Thea was determined to hold to traditions...but traditions were stymied. The newest House was brimming at the seams with a wealth of intriguing abilities and even SatyrKiss was looking to expand its ranks.

Nemese knew she had to do something and she had scoured the writings of their founders for hints of a direction and it was there that she?d discovered Thea?s misinterpretation. Gorgon Horn was founded on lineage: But not the shared lineage of the House but the proven lineage of the members.

Without speaking to Gotha or Thea, Nemese had composed letters of acceptance and welcome to those students who fit such distinctions...and she delivered them on the silent, unnoticeable steps of the wraith.

ElKinid?qualn Teken'irrt.
Eleyna Drachenwylde.
Almalthia Sanguine.
Alaric Granger.
Ilyona Albaelia.
Jolie Viette.
Violette Rousseau.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-02-25 17:49 EST
He was trying to spend as much time with Xera as possible before she went back to her homeland to find out who her husband was going to be. Blizz didn't really understand the way it worked, but she had promised him that it was just a formality and that it didn't mean anything to her, which he found funny. She seemed more worried that it was going to change things than he did, but that was just sort of his way. Easygoing.

But that was more of a facade in this case. To be honest, he couldn't have been more excited. With the way her culture worked Xera had to save her virginity until her wedding night, and then after that she could leave and do whatever she wanted as long as she didn't get pregnant. He, her, and Ozzie had found some very creative ways to be intimate over the last few weeks, but all three of them seemed equally excited for when they could actually culminate their relationship completely, and that seemed just around the corner.

Still, there was a part of him that cringed a little at the thought of her being with another. It was impossible not to develop feelings for Xera, and yet to him the most startling thing about it was when he told Ozzie. She not only understood, but confessed to the same. It wasn't a tryst. It wasn't a fling. It was a relationship, with feelings and emotions all tied together, and he loved it.

That was more of a private conversation, though. He wasn't sure how it worked - being madly in love with one girl while falling for another - but that's what was happening. Blizzard and Ozalynne had never been stronger, and yet he couldn't deny the passionate feelings that were growing in regards to the Azer. Knowing that Ozzie shared them was a bonus, and made the entire thing seem more natural.

He stepped into the Abjuration class and quickly made his way for his seat, a glance to the empty desk beside his reminding him that Alaric had indeed transferred. P*ssy, Blizzard thought to himself and chuckled. He'd never let the Granger Novitiate live down fleeing the terror that was Mistress Crazyrobes.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-02-27 23:27 EST
Rain allowed her to let the tears fall unnoticed. She walked back from the inn wearing what little clothing she chose to don. The rain soaked her thoroughly and was clinging to her form. Her mane of ebony was plastered to her skull.

... she looked like a drowned rat.

She was one that hated for people to see her weak, yet tonight she didn't not care. So what if she looked wretched, who would noticed anyway? Certainly not anyone who cared about her.

She shivered with the cold, though she knew she wouldn't get sick. She was part demon after all. She had immunities to certain things...

It was the demon coming out in response too. A layer of ebony fur covered her form and she became more feral, feline looking. She rarely let anyone see this side of her, hating it.

Now she let it out for all to see as she strode for the residential wings. She made her way slowly to her own rooms half hoping to run into him, knowing it would not happen. The hope crumbled within her.

She never got what she wanted... only pain.

http://eclipsedancer.com/gallery/albums/IAP/Angel-cat.jpg

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-02-28 08:59 EST
Gorgon Horn Acceptance Letter

The siren returned to her room quietly, mute and without so much as a rustle to indicate her passing. She frowned slightly as she found the envelope with her name scrawled on it. Claws brushed parchment lightly as slender fingers grasped the missive. Who could want to leave her a note? She had made certain to avoid notice, she had thought. Outside of mercilessly teasing Sartha. She entered her room, eyes casting about to find it empty. Good enough. She was solitary by nature and preferred to be left to her own devices.

Claws made quick work of opening the letter and she pulled out the parchment it contained, eyes sliding over it.

This letter is to inform you that hereafter you shall belong to House Gorgon horn. Other members of your House include:

ElKinid?qualn Teken'irrt.
Eleyna Drachenwylde.
Alaric Granger.
Ilyona Albaelia.
Jolie Viette.
Violette Rousseau.

You are expected to meet with your House head and comply with the regulations regarding your house. Disloyalty will be met with stern punishment, Do well and you will reap a great many rewards.

Almalthia read and re-read the letter. House? She had not even applied to be in a house. And with Jolie, no less. A scab. She snorted softly. Perhaps presteige was to be taken here. After all, there were more ways than one to hunt and this might give her access to bigger and better game.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-02-28 21:04 EST
Click, click.
?
Clickclick.?
?
Sharp heels echoed through the hallway, each slap of the stiletto point a unmistakable pronouncement of presence, compounded in effect by the echoing qualities of the Institute's corridors.
?
Click click.
?
Pausing?halfway from the necromancy annex, Bryn gave her delicately-shod feet a very critical appraisal.??Perfect bright red?(mother would have a shameful name for them, wouldn't she?), the precise hue of her apprentice jacket, embellished at the toe and heel with elegantly-crafted, tiny black silk flowers, barely?lifted from the smooth matte surface of the shoe itself.??When she'd found them in the shop window, she'd nearly died?of delight:?a perfect?compliment to?the school uniform and a?lovely, lofty heel?for a handful of extra inches?on her?petite frame.
?
Oh, how enamored was she, by these near-to-holy pieces of art!
?
Yet she?abandoned the pristine?stilettos in the hallway.? Right there in the middle.??

Truth be told, Bryn didn't love anything.
?
Not even the shoes.


?***

Despite the pause for her divestment of footwear, Bryn was early to Master Nil?aiha?s Enchantment class. Stocking-clad toes whispered across the stone floor of the small amphitheater-shaped classroom, crossing the instructor?s stage as she eyed the scattering of faces already settled and awaiting the commencement of the lesson.

There.

As she climbed the steps, the blithe smile gradually drained from her amicable visage, and by the time she claimed the seat next to Grail, her dainty features were alarmingly blank. The fellow necromancer acknowledged her arrival by closing the book that occupied his spare moments, and they exchanged concise nods. Neither one spoke, serene silence draped between them, for their?s was an easy, familiar way: one that many would call a friendship. Cut from the same twisted cloth - indeed, almost as siblings would be - they shared a liberty and gentle respect that inspired confidence, devoid of pretense or conspiring.

For the time being, they were a team.

?Have you heard about the Masquerade party in the works?? Grail asked, his voice bereft of inflection.

?Of course.? For most, Bryn would don a flirty smile at this point in the exchange; instead, her countenance persisted with the hollow vacancy of a porcelain doll. ?I hear all kinds of things - people do enjoy talking, especially about themselves. Apparently all of the houses will be included in the festivities this year. Grant has begun planning.?

?He will need help.?

?He will,? Bryn affirmed. Students were filing in more rapidly now, collecting the most convenient seats - not surprisingly, many of the persons occupying the first couple of rows were female. ?Do you know what happened with the suicide??

?Haven?t heard anything yet. If Master Smout?n has uncovered any details, they haven?t been public. The body resides in the annex.?

Finally, Nil?aiah entered, his unnervingly handsome features turned stormily towards the indistinct chorus of low student voices. He wasted no time, calling them to attention with an abrupt: ?Let?s begin.?

?Interesting,? she whispered. "Maybe we should attempt to contact her spirit on our own, and then we could -"

Nil'aiah turned a vexed stare in her direction, instantly silencing her scheming lips with a powerfully suggestive, warmth-less smile.

It would wait.

Xera

Date: 2011-03-02 11:28 EST
Leave of Absence


"What you are, little girl, is a tease." The snarling words of Felix sent her scrambling up out her sleep for not the first time since she'd left the school.

Inhaling a sharp breath she was not surprised to find the sentinel already at her bedside. Her husband took her security seriously. A little too seriously. "I'm fine." She said for what was becoming an endless number of reassurances.

The flaming head nodded its assent and moved away from her again to take the post near the door. She'd almost forgotten (Or chose to not recall) how different her life was at home. At one point she would've enjoyed being so treasured that she was never left alone. But she'd grown used to the freedom of being a student at the IAP and she missed the privacy.

That wasn't all she missed. A sigh had her guardian turning toward her and she deliberately rolled over so that her face was hidden from his probing eyes. Tears threatened and she widened her soot dark eyes in an attempt to keep them at bay.

She missed Blizzard.
She missed Ozalynne.

She hadn't said goodbye.

"No wonder Damien hates you. You turn a man on and leave him wanting. The problem, Xera, is that most men let you get away with it."

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to block out the hiss of his voice.

No, she hadn't said goodbye. She'd fled.

And now all she wanted was to get back. Of course her husband was unavailable. He wasn't even within their homeland at the present moment. But word had been sent.

And now she waited.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-03-02 12:59 EST
Outside of Chamber Parthenium
Vliss was too good at being the center of attention to not take advantage of a gift-giving expedition. It didn't take long for the entire school to become aware of the fact that the IAP's salonniere was searching for Saphira to deliver upon her the stunning bouquet created by the Earth Elementalist.

No simple bunch of flowers this, Vliss had spent a considerable amount of energy and time splicing together four separate plants with the aid of her magic. The beautiful flowering profusion in her arms was more than just a simple fashionable gift.

After receiving the Dream Catcher from Saphira she'd sought out the wolven girl to offer her gratitude and had encountered Kish in the process. He'd been in the midst of expressing his concern over Saphira's appetite for magic. It had been this that had planted the seed both literally and symoblically for her return gift.

The berries produced by her newest creation were embued with small amounts of arcana. And, they tasted good, if she did say so herself.

Smiling she delivered her present for Saphira with a small note attached,

"To One I Would Consider a Sister,
Should you have need of anything please know that I am but awaiting your call. May this gift be as beautiful and effective for you as yours was for me.

Vliss Arcanum."

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFmVPUGVnUFZFNEJHejBNU1hpb3BXdmcAAAACaWQKAXgAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg


Taking a small sprig of it to the Herbology Department she catalogued it as "Saphira's Rose."

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-03-02 21:52 EST
A pleasant surprise

Her hands hurt. The redness and blistering was taking ages to heal, an unavoidable reaction to the silver she'd used for Vliss' dream-catcher. She stifled a yawn, returning to her room, wondering if moir would be there or no, or even Sam, that irritating feline. Funny, how Mystri was feline in many ways and Saphira adored her, but she would be happy to 'accidentally' drench Sam. She caught her breath as she laid eyes on the bouquet.

Beautiful.

Her first thought was Kish had left it, but she canted her head as the scent hit her. Arcana. And growing things, earth, sunshine and warm stones. Vliss. She would know that scent anywhere. She reverently picked the gorgeous flowers up and found the card. She smiled as she read it, well pleased Vliss had liked the gift. She opened the door, set her books down and admired the flowers, setting them on a small table near the window where they might get good light. And what was this? Berries..The scent of Arcana was strong from them and she could not resist but to try one.

She found them delicious and satisfying and she smiled. She knew for certain Vliss had to have run into Kish. He was the only one who had been aware of her craving for magic. Well, he would get his reward for his thoughtful leak of information when she caught up with him. She settled herself on her bed to steal what little rest she might before her next class, admiring and marveling at the roses and other flowers in the bouquet until she finally drifted to sleep.

Myraddin Numidor

Date: 2011-03-03 17:40 EST
Myraddin gasped through the euphoric release, the last semblance of movement being the final thrust as he kept perfectly still, letting the glorious sensation wash over him in dizzying waves. The defined muscles of his chest and shoulders were taut ribbons seeking to keep him motionless, and slender fingers pressed into opposing hips to hold them flush with his own.

Finally, when the last of the pulsating offerings were contributed, he withdrew to the conjoined moans of protest from both he and his lover and turned quickly to regain his clothing. There were no words shared in the darkness of the component closet, there never were.

He drew the jacket about his shoulders and turned just in time to receive an urgent kiss, one that sought to be more. Myraddin did not respond in kind, instead pulling back with a near sneer. Their time was never long enough, it seemed, but it was a fact that they both needed to understand.

Myraddin?s elven heritage made such endeavors common place as one of the key aspects to life was reproduction, the act of it, by default, was a natural passion of his. It seemed that his covert companion did not share this regard as more ? time and touch - was grasped at with the conclusion of their every affair.

It was always Myraddin who had to push away, which was starting to become tiresome, if only because he often found that he did not want to.

A final kiss was granted, though, just before he stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind him, making the affectionate embrace swift as to keep from lingering.

It was the agreement they had come to months ago when they had started their tryst.

Myraddin would leave first.




?.and five minutes later Akemi would follow.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-03-03 21:02 EST
Samcenu Tracha had more than a handful of years under his belt, but every now and then, something still managed to impress him. Modestly, though - if not impress, then at least surprise.

He beheld the redhead novitiate: her lengthy, leggy form swaying gently with mesmerized exhaustion, the youthful, high swell of her breasts lifting with each gasp of breath, her stormily sapphire eyes trained distantly upon the last of her vanquished targets. None of the other students were yet in sight. She, singularly and swiftly, had run the course of the obstructions, wantonly eviscerating each perceived obstacle, and now, her features were expressionless in focused determination, displaying neither pleasure nor disappointment.

For a moment, she seemed unaware that the task was complete, her senses still focused sharply on the more minute details of the forest, her body poised to spring, her mind wavering on the trigger of her next cast.

?Well done, Novitiate Daewen,? said the instructor, his smooth voice disrupting the student?s dreamy daze.

She beheld him as if amazed, a slight nod from the dark elf acknowledging her long-awaited success. Behind her, the first clamor of approach from her classmates whispered through the dense maze of wildwoods. She threw a glance backward, her tousled ruby ponytail tossing over a slender shoulder - then, with a fluidity akin to magnetism, her eyes drew back to the teacher.

He smiled, thin lips forming a cunning curve.

And the student laughed, not out of humor but pure joy, her luminous blue eyes sparkling with triumphant delight.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-03-03 21:56 EST
?What do you mean ???

Blizzard grunted as he curled the heavy bar to his chest, causing biceps to swell with ardor before dropping to repeat the motion. ?Yep. Gone. She left for her homeland a few days ago. She?ll be back?? He sighed, not really knowing the answer, though hoping it would be soon.
Albion clenched his jaw. ?She was supposed to help me with ?this thing.? He clipped the ending of his sentiment quickly, not wanting irritation to reveal their hidden project.

?Sorry, Albi, she?s not here.? Blizz strained through another series of six curls before dropping the bar to the floor. Staying seated, he wiped the dripping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and took a drink from the bottle of water he had waiting nearby. ?You okay??

No, he wasn?t, but he would never admit it. ?Just peachy.? Albion replied, using the irritation of Xera?s absence as a convenient barrier to keep from explaining his current mood.

?Alright, well if she gets back any time soon have her come and find me, alright??

Blizzard laughed as he lay back on the bench just beneath the bar that was held upon the rung extensions. ?No promises, red. If she comes home soon she?s probably going to be awfully busy making up for lost time.?

Albion had already turned to exit with a quick step and a wave of crimson locks, though paused just at the door. A myriad of response swarmed his mind. From empathetic understanding to acerbic insult, but in the end he said nothing, and left.

With all the time he had been spending in Master Mos?em?s conjuration chamber the halls were starting to look like a strange labyrinth more unfamiliar than his first day on campus, with twists and turns where he didn?t expect them.

It seemed to parallel his current state of mind as what he thought he knew was suddenly careening and cambering where he least expected it.

With Magic.

With Quillyan.

With Mystriana.

There were things that he needed to say, things that he had to explain and admit, and yet it just seemed that time was always swerving when he needed it to stay its course. Secretly Albion hoped that the entire scenario would play itself out or fade away over time, but in actuality all it seemed to do was consume and afflict him with guilt and remorse. He had considered seeking out Vliss and Damien to speak with them and get their advice, yet in the end decided not to burden them with such troubles.

And, as normal, when confronted by stress or anxiety, Albion threw himself into his studies. The tomb awaited, as did the cavern where it was found, not to mention the cure had been working on and off again for Saphira. He needed to figure some things out, unlock internal secrets, and decipher the entwined truth.

It seemed parallels were everywhere.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-03-04 08:45 EST
Intrigue

Gotha.

That one was....interesting.

Strong willed to be certain. Almalthia steepled her delicately clawed fingertips together contemplatively. "Gotha" She mused aloud. Whispering still though there were none to hear, but she never took chances.
It might have been coincidence, or the insane twist of fate, or perhaps a cosmic giggle that found her landing on her pert bottom later that afternoon as that very one bowled into her.

He'd been distracted by a young novitiate who had been chirping at him questions in rapid-fire succession. It was irritating and he'd been in the midst of waving her away when it had happened. He looked only a little surprised and there might have been some remorse, but it was quickly replaced by irritation as the girl kept at him.

"Enough!" His tone was cold firm and annoyed. "Leave me be, girl." Almalthia exposed her teeth and hissed at Gotha and the girl, furious to find herself in a compromised position. "Careless oaf!" She snarled in a whisper at him as she rose and brushed herself off. The girl irritated her as well, and she growled softly, the bone blades along her spine slipping wetly free and rattling against one another menacingly. "Suggest go, girl." She fairly spat the clipped words.

Gotha got a particularly ugly look. "And you." She eyed him critically. "Open eyes, yes?" Her whispered tone was not as hard as it might have been, but it was no-nonsense nonetheless. She did not enjoy being knocked down. She straightened her uniform and smoothed it, still glaring daggers at Gotha. He did not waiver, not prone to the wishy-washy surges of emotion as it seemed the majority of the student body was. He huffed, hissing something softly in return Almalthia did not understand.

She snorted softly and turned, those bone blades rattling and gleaming wetly with her own particular poison. "As$." She muttered as she stalked off. Gotha merely raised a brow and turned. At least the irritating novitiate was gone.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-03-04 09:20 EST
So...damn...tired

She was sleeping again. Lune perched on the head of her bed, worried and watching. He was quiet though, knowing she needed what little rest she could get. Quick blue orbs snapped to the door as Kish entered. Kish. Lune remembered him, knew him well. He flew to the youth's shoulder without hesitation and made soft sounds of distress. "You worried about her too?" Kish asked the owl softly as he offered up a bit of raw meat he'd brought for his favorite duo.

Lune's response was affirmative even as he took the tidbit and devoured it before nipping Kish's ear, though not as hard as he would Saphira's. Lune knew Kish did not heal the same way. Kish nodded and set the tightly sealed container of bloody meat down and sat gently on the edge of Saphira's bed, watching her sleep. He was worried. Vesper had summoned him to her cottage and his concern for Saphira's well-being had only grown. He was not certain why the fae-pact was concerned with Saphira's well-being, but he was not going to argue when some one expressed the desire to see her cared for.

He wasn't perfectly aware of what exactly had happened, either. Saphira had not given him all the details as it had upset her, and he did not push. From what he had pieced together it had been a horrible mix-up and a misunderstanding. He knew about the Denubae, everyone did. Knew it had been Vesper's, but found it difficult to believe a teacher would intentionally harm a student, and so had been willing to accept Vesper's concerns as genuine.

He didn't know how Saphira would react and did not plan to tell her. She didn't need any more upset or stress. Saphira murmured in her sleep and turned over. Kish's eyes wandered lovingly over the furry female's form. She looked peaceful when she slept, so beautiful. She was beginning to decidedly show a bit as well. His eyes roved over the gentle swelling of her abdomen. He knew how long Lycan cycles were but Denubae? There was very little information on it. They'd been killed, dissected and studied, but he'd not found a single tome on their reproductive cycles.

Apparently nobody wanted to watch them breed and chance more of the monsters running around. Saphira's eyes cracked open. "Mmmm..Kish? What are you doing here? What time is it?" Mumbling sleepily. Kish smoothed her tousled hair back. "Time for you to rest. I brought you something to eat for when you're ready." He was now idly petting Lune who was peering down at his mistress with evident concern. "Eat..oh..yes. You spoke with Vliss, didn't you?" Stretching slowly and yawning.

Kish nodded. "How'd you know?" Watching her. Even with her growing belly he found her incredibly appealing. Margot had been flirting shamelessly with him but he had eyes only for his furry fantasy. Saphira peered at him. "Because the bouquet she left had food imbued with arcana. Berries. Nobody but you knows I have been craving it. But it seems she did. I assumed you must have spoken to her." Kish laughed softly. "You caught me. I did, yes. She told me about that dream-catcher you made her. That was thoughtful of you Saph." He frowned a little as he saw her red and blistered hands.

"Have you seen Mistress Evahlys about that?" He inquired gently nodding at hands she was moving to be less noticeable. "No, I figured it would heal soon enough." Kish was firm. "Saph, it's been over a week, and it looks painful. Come on. We're going right now. Get up." Chiding gently. "Kish, really it's-" No, it's not, Saphira." Concern in his voice." Why did you use silver anyway? You know you're allergic. What if it had gotten infected? Or worse?" He stood and went to the dresser to fetch both her brushes and began untangling her hair and pulled it back for her. It was not nearly as good as she'd have done but with her hands blistered it was better than she could do.

He used the body brush next and began going over her fur. "Kish, really it's okay why don't you get in bed with me?" Her tone was suggestive. He had to give it to her she was wily. "I will after you go to the infirmary. "Oh, alright." Pouting cutely. "But it's under protest!" Kish laughed. "Obviously. Alright gorgeous, come on. He took her wrist and pulled gently and she stood with a sigh. "You owe me a nap after this one. "Will do." He chuckled as he led her to the infirmary.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-05 06:49 EST
... What a Difference a Day makes

Lilium Wing

A good nights sleep and talks with the male members of her family had a way of cheering the young half demoness. This day had her less morose and more confident. There was even the hint of a smile on her lips.

The talk with her father did much to relieve her. Afterall, He wouldn't let her down. The talk with her cousin had the beginnings of a mischievous idea forming. For that, she needed help from a family friend.

"I'm serious. I need a gown. Something... Provocative." She had said as she studied with the young novice.

"You are nuts Tanner." Was the response with a soft laugh.

"Come on, you know the best shops to go to for this type of thing." She wanted it to be eye catching and needed the help.

"Let's not go provocative, but something definitely worth a double take." The Young blonde countered. "Who will be escorting you?"

"Danny." She said with a grin.

There was a merry laugh at the thought, knowing the young man personally. "You are certainly not pulling punches. Alright, I'm in."

There was a bit fo a cheer, "Thanks, Yona. You are the best."

... After all, all three families were good friends and allies.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-03-05 07:34 EST
?How did this happen again?? Ashriel asked as he moved his wide hands over the gash recently gifted to Gina Magarelli?s forearm. It wasn?t very deep, but it was long, running nearly from the eye of her elbow clear to the wrist.

?It was that Numidor bitch!? Gina replied accusingly. ?And it was intentional. She?s always been jealous of me, always! Since the very first day I got here she?s been giving me dagger eyes and now it seems she?s stooped to physical violence!?

He turned from where she sat upon the patient bed to the tray of instruments and began to finger through some of them. Mistress Evahlys liked for her assistants and attendees to use the formatted protocol of magical medicine, even if they didn?t need to. In Ashriel?s case, he didn?t. His heritage allowed him to heal certain wounds without the use of such inventions, and Gina?s was a quick fix.

?All done.? He said as he turned back to her, the simple nod of his head washing thick rivulets of silver hair along strong shoulders. ?As a point of reference, I would stay clear of Faetha in the future.? The suggestion was given freely, coldly, with no hint of mirth upon his lips.

?I often try to evade the garbage dumps at this school, Sorcerer.? She assured him as she slipped off the table, a simple motion that revealed the lacy tops of stockinged thighs. Luckily her healer had been turning away at that point and missed the transitory showing, giving her a moment to smooth down the skirt of her apprentice uniform. ?Ashriel??

He had indeed started away, though with her beckoning those departing steps came to an end. He turned, the sinewy fold of feathery wings quivering with a noticeable irritation. ?Yes??

?Why didn?t Viperfang ever want me??

The stifled pain in her question was obvious as her voiced dropped and quivered. Obviously his house?s ignoring of her had settled firmly in the pit of her soul, and though she was a fixture well situated within House Satyrkiss that lack of interest from Viperfang still seemed to weigh heavily.

?Because,? Ashriel replied sternly. ?You are not worthy.?

Such a bold answer was not what she was expecting, obvious by the kaleidoscope of emotions that writhed across her pretty face as she tried to figure out how to respond. Anger, insult, embarrassment, it was all there. The conundrum as to how to retort came with Ashriel?s station, two ranks above her and the Overseer of a house. He was no common Novitiate and thus immune to her toxic tongue.

Gina settled on defiant, lifting her chin as she rolled down the sleeve to her uniform blouse. She picked up her apprentice jacket with two fingers and draped it playfully about her slender shoulders. Moving forward, she nearly brushed the masculine span of Ashriel?s chest with her slight body. ?Worthy enough for Satyrkiss.?

??as the rubbish is a worthy enough meal for the homeless.? He said icily.

She scoffed; tears and anger welling in her eyes which were luckily cast away from the Sorcerer. He was mean. It was her only thought as she stalked out of the infirmary upon the click of dainty heels.

He was mean, and he would pay.

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-03-06 10:52 EST
There was a reason for wanting to master divination beyond simple fascination with its study. The art of empathetic magic was something that he sought since his childhood, imprisoned within the Matriarchal barracks of House Teken?irrt, thanks to the coldly stoic way of the Dark Elves. Moods were not read, only innuendo and connotation entwined within poetic words to pain and death. Enemies and friends were separated only by a shared union of advancement, where the only hope that was permitted was that of success that lacked too much collateral damage.

Elkinid hated this wavering morality; this undulating sense of truth and falsity that seemed to embrace one moment and divide the next. And it was this feeling that was the reason for wanting to command magic that could give him insights as to what people were really seeing, hearing, and feeling.

And then there were days when he wished he wasn?t a caster at all. Days like this one. Days where the magic he harnessed was not an ally of revelation but a companion of consequence. He shouldn?t have used his magic on Angelica, he should have left her alone to let fate build upon a foundation shakily forged. But he couldn?t resist. He had to see what was inside her head. Had to know what was churning inside her lush body.

He cringed with the need he found lingering there, mostly because it was not the need he thought to find. He hoped to find a desire for him, a desire for them, but instead found only a passion for someone, anyone, it seemed. It seemed she did not truly want him as much as she just wanted someone to cure the affliction of loneliness that seemed to constantly be brewing inside her head and soul.

When the summons came to attend the Gorgonhorn meeting he hesitated at first, unsure if he would join any house. Honestly he had hoped to join Stormsabre as it seemed all the people he cared about where there; Tiatari, Mercedes, and Angelica. But even then, since his return he had started to feel like a bit of an outsider in certain aspects, as though while away he simply missed too much to make him one of the group. So he went.

He went to the meeting and met the house members, met the Overseer of the House, Thea Pausanias. There were others there too, others whose names he became familiar with thanks to his magic. Ilyona, Gotha, Almalthia, Alaric and Violette. They seemed like him; all wandering around with a loss in their eyes, seeking to find acceptance. Seeking to find a place to belong.

That place was Gorgonhorn. The eldest house. The house of the Old Way.
Time passed and he left, finding the form of Violette Rousseau wandering the labyrinth of hallways between the main campus and the clandestine location of the Gorgonhorn chamber. They walked and talked; him conveying stories of his violent homeland and her recalling details of her jaded past. It felt good to not be burdened with expectation or suspicion. It felt good to just be himself. She was beautiful and charming in a way that mirrored her elder sister and yet lacked that haunted elegance. Violette was an energetic spirit contained within the tight restraint of an ironclad family protocol. A fascinating enigma.

The following morning when he awoke amongst her slender and splayed limbs, entwined in both butterysoft flesh and silken sheets, he felt little remorse. Passion was a fire that burned and smoldered accordingly, not a contract of stipulations and agreements.

He tried to change. Tried to be something he wasn?t, and failed.

Thankfully so.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-06 11:58 EST
... I will survive

Passion became despair, then quickly turned into resolve. She had a thing about showing weakness and she had been showing far too much lately. If he wanted to toy with her and neglect the flame he started, then he could deal with the loss of this chance. She was truly tired of hunting for something that was not meant to be.

She had told him that she did not believe in that silly verse and she was proven true again. Let them hunt her, if one was strong enough to catch her, then that one would win.

She took a little extra care with her appearance. A little less the tomboy and more like her mother. Strong... Strength and power.

The power she applied to her lessons, mastering the steps in summoning a Sentinel much to her mother's pleasure. She applied that will to the shadowy creature, funneling the pain, the despair into her willpower. She was strong enough to hold this creature in her thrall, she would get through what life would throw at her.

Of the men in her life, she truly cared about Damien, her father and her cousin. The ones that stood by her side... That would be enough.

She toyed with the ring that blocked out anyone trying to read her as she watched the other students attempt to master the summoning of the Sentinels. She had proven her strength there.

It was this renewed Angelica that breezed into her suite of rooms after her success. Right by the Vampire that was just emerging from his rest. Cinder was very typical in his elitist attitudes. Some days it was something she could not stand, however typical.

"Good evening, Cinder." She said silkily smooth as she made for her sleeping quarters.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-06 12:00 EST
... White sand and Mai Tais

Time for a break. Long past, if anyone bothered to ask Esteban?s opinion on the matter. At least this time, he didn't look like he'd been dragged through a thicket of briars, metaphorically speaking. Fresh-shaven, and suitably adorned, with a mug of something steaming nearby, he carefully picked out a lively, if quiet, tune upon his guitar near the roaring hearth.

Angelica was out and about in the marketplace. The activity was usual for her... Shopping. Hold the presses, the elder of the twins was shopping for feminine things. Was hell freezing over? She slipped into the Teashop quietly, looking for a break and maybe a warm drink.

Lost in the music, he didn't look up at first, not yet willing to let go of the tune he played. Softly, a hummed glissando spilled from his throat, a delicate counterpoint to the rhythm his fingers drew from the instrument.

Angelica placed her order, a heavily sugared Coffee concoction and some warm meat pies. He stomach was twisting around her spine literally. The music drew her attention and her eyes traveled to Esteban as he played. A bit distracted she paid for her order and silently moved over to where he was sitting.

At length, the song drew to a close, the last notes still vibrating in the air, as he opened his eyes. It took him a minute of blinking to realize just where he was, and that he'd garnered an audience of one. ?Ah. Hola, Angelica. I didn't think anyone else would be here on a day like today.?

"I know the rest are doing other things indoors. Perfect time to explore the marketplace." She shrugged and gestured to an empty chair, "Mind the company?"

?Mind? No, of course I don't mind. After these past... ? He took a moment to count in his head. ?Merde, has it really been a month and a half? Dios mio, I hate when I get lost in these things.?

"Basically. It has been a rough time all around." She said, "Everyone's either been on edge or too busy."

?On edge? Over what?? Yes, he really has been living under the metaphorical rock lately.

"The attack on Saphira and all small stuff." She murmured and placed the coffee and meatpies on an end table next to her. She then settled into the comfort of the chair

?Wait, attack? What attack? All I know is that Xera and I have a new roommate who's a real culo, there's some kind of fire-headed statues by her room, and that's about all I've had the time to notice. I've been... composing.?

She took a deep drink of the coffee. "She was attacked by a Denubae... in Vesper's woods." She deliberately lowered her voice, "(vq) She was raped."

While the exact language might not have been clear, the basic gist of the liquid trill of Spanish that fell from his lips spoke libraries about his ire. Sure, he's been known to dally on the wrong side of other peoples' sheets, but that, oh he hated that.

There was a look in her eyes that said the sentiment was echoed. "She's become attached to Kish... and is expecting. Then there is Mercedes' and... Well she's not well."

?Si, that much I knew. She hasn't been... well... for a long time now.? He fell silent for a moment, giving some attention to his neglected coffee. ?And Kish knows??

She nodded, "Thankfully, knows and accepts."

?Bien.? He didn't say much else, not really knowing Saphira all that well, and knowing Kish even less. Obviously, the whole situation didn't sit overly well with him, and he searched his mind for somewhere else to steer the conversation. ?And how are your... studies??

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-06 12:01 EST
"They are going well enough. About the only area that is progressing." She said softly and munched on a meat pie

?Oh? So you're taking that advice to heart, and trailing a line of besotted young novitiates in your wake?? Here, we have a lovely example of where the intent of the conversation had gone one way, and the interpretation diametrically opposite. ?By the by... who exactly was that girl? I think she's in a class or two with me, but I've been so busy of late, I haven't had the opportunity to introduce myself. Though, she seemed... well, rather informed, when it came to me.?

There was a rueful shake of the head, "More like getting a little of my own back ." She arched a brow at him, "Cadence. She's a Bardic student as well."

?Certainly has the name for it.? His demeanor softened for a moment. ?I didn't want to seem misleading, that night. And I do apologize if I offended. You are quite the lovely woman, but settling down just isn't my style. I did mean it, however, when I offered my friendship.?

She glanced at him straight on, ?I just wanted you to have fair warning. I did the playing around and was burnt by it. Truly I just want someone that takes me serious not plays games with me under the guise of being interested."

Setting his cup aside, he lifted his hands and smiled. ?No games, I promise. I made the same promise to Xera. Besides, why lie? It's so bothersome to keep up with what you've told to who and when... better to have a clear conscience, I say.?

There was a smile on those lips, "And that's where I am truly tired. I gave someone a second chance, and he hasn't changed."

?Ah.? Leaning forward and taking up the cup again, he raised a brow. ?But, you were still looking for the long-term, weren't you??

"If it is meant to be." She sighed softly. "My problem is that the men in my life like to disappear without word."

?People do that, from time to time.? Resting his back against the chair once again, he crossed his leg over the other, and put both hands around the mug, welcoming the warmth in his fingers. ?Not going to preach to you about expectations and falling short of goals, but you might give some thought to doing less offering of your heart, and more of making them earn it instead. And, like Cadence said... there's no harm in flirting.?

"Which is what I am doing now." She shook her head, "I'm through with being the one without pride and being abandoned."

?Bien! I'm sure you don't need any sort of advice on what makes men tick... not that such advice would do any good. Like women, all men are different. Different draws, different interests...? He waved, rolling his hand in the air. ?I'm sure you know all about that by now. I suppose... what I'm offering most is this. A safe refuge. No games to play, nothing to worry about. If you need an ear, then that's what I'm here for. But anything else... a promise to be up front about it??

There was a smile and a nod to that, "That would be appreciated."

?Done, and done. Just remember... don't knock too early on Saturdays. I tend to sleep in.? He might be a touch rusty, but there's that smile. ?So, who are you after first??

She chuckled at that, "Elkinid... I admit, I have a thing for Dark Elves but I am tired of opening up to him and he saying he wants to be with me, only to have him avoid me. Twice now."

?Elkinid... Elkinid... have I met that one??

?Briefly, He's mage rank. Started with Mercedes, Tia and myself."

There went those brows again. ?Well... you don't do much but aim high, do you?? Chuckling, he took another sip of his coffee. ?Alright... so, you'd rather reel him in than go hunting for him, si??

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-06 12:02 EST
"I went hunting before and got burnt. He expressed the desire to be with me this time around, so now he has to prove it." She said firmly.

?Bien, bien. Make him work for it.?

She nodded, "I am learning. Slowly, but it sticks."

?And in the meantime??

"Life still goes on, I can't hide from it even if I wanted to."

?Right, right, of course. I just hope you aren't driving yourself insane while you're making him crazy, that's all.?

"You mean crazier than Normal?" She quipped quietly, "I was, then got myself on track. I have my plans."

?Trust me, I'm learning this the hard way. Find a hobby. Something distracting. Don't get too caught up in your plans, or they'll eat you alive.?

"When the weather gets better. I like being outside and away from ... civilization."'

?Oh, camping?? He chuckled, taking that last sip of coffee. ?I've done that before. A nice retreat, but not really my idea of a handy good time.?

She chuckled, "I trained with my father as a ranger. I don't mind that and the hunting."

?Call me a sucker for the civilized life, then. My idea of a good outdoor outing is a day on the beach.?

There was a soft laugh at that, "The beach has it's merits, I suppose. If people don't mind my tattoos."

?I've got a couple of those myself. Tattoos are relatively common back home these days. Maybe you'd like to go sometime, once it gets warmer? I know this fabuloso place, back home, nothing but white sand, crystal blue water, and mai tais to die for.?

There was a smile at that, "I'd like that, Esteban."

?Good! Let's hope for some warmer weather soon, then. Care for another coffee? My treat.?

There was a laugh at that, "Sure." She was definitely in even better spirits.

He smiled, and stood, taking his cup in hand, and reaching for hers. ?Going to tell me what you had, or would you rather be surprised??

"I think it is called Mocha... light and sweet."

?Oh! Una venti mocha, coming right up. ? Another smile, and he's off to the counter for a bit. Good coffee takes time. Especially a macchiato like his had been. After some time, quite a bit of steam, and the always-odd sound of frothing, he returned with two steaming mugs in hand. ?I will say this much. They know their coffee here. Your mocha, light and sweet.?
She had finished her meal as well. She was soaking up the warmth. She took the mug from him, "Thank you."

?De nada, my friend. Think nothing of it. So, you've been shopping today, eh? And keeping me in suspense as to what for??

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-06 12:03 EST
"Umm, Girly stuff." She said softly, almost embarrassed.

?Girly stuff... like... ? Oh come now, you want a guy's opinion, don't you? After all, that's ultimately what it's for, isn't it??

She blushed even further, "Cosmetics... under... wear."

All he did was nod.

The red didn't fade, "For balls and stuff." She said by way of explanation.

?It's not like I'm asking you to model them, Angel. But I can give you a good idea whether or not the choices were the right ones.?

"The perfume is one of my favorite scents, Vanilla. The... other stuff... Lingerie. I went to Koy's shop."

?I've heard a lot of good things about that place. Never have had a reason to go there myself, though. But seriously. You're talking to someone who can drop sixty-thousand dollars on a good shopping spree. I think I know my colors. So come on, don't be shy. Unless...? Yes, he had to pause here, and tease just a touch. ?You're already wearing them, aren't you? You saucy little minx, you.?

She drew out the floor length sheer robe with match bustier, panties and stockings.

?Oh my... and that's what you plan to wear to a ball? I like the way you think!?

There was a laugh at that, "Maybe afterwards... if I..." She looked down at the floor, "If I am fortunate"

?Ahem. Angel. Darling. Really. You just can't go to a ball with that kind of attitude. It's not about hoping for fortune, it's about knowing you will be. Tease them. Tantalize them. Get them wrapped around your little finger, and then take your pick of them.?

Then she looked up, "Yona is helping me with the dress for that. I sometimes feel utterly hopeless in that regard."

And idea struck him, and he winked, reaching for his guitar. ?I know just what you need...?

She tilted her head and regarded him a moment, "Oh?"

The tempo was a rapid one, kept by thumps against the wood, the cadence of the lyrics matching as he grinned.:: ~Ojos de bloqueo de a través de la sala, Por mi bebida mientras el auge de los ritmos, Tomar su mano y omitir los nombres, No necesita aqu? los juegos tontos. Nuestro camino a través del humo y la multitud, El club es el cielo y estoy en la nube, Mover en cerrar como la marcha de láser, Pulse en nuestros cuerpos y los ángeles lloran.~

She listened to the tempo a bit. The foot absently tapped to the beat. There was a brief chuckle at that.

Chuckling, he stilled the strings. ?Just remember this, Angel. You hold the power. If a man wants to sleep with someone, they have to be suave, debonair, dashing... but a woman? All they have to do is crook a finger.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-06 12:05 EST
"Don't I wish it was that easy." She shook her head with a chuckle. "Would like to knock a few guys down a peg, to be sure."

?That's just the point. It is, but you don't see it.?

"I guess I don't. Maybe that's the issue I'm having?"

?It could be. You say you have a thing for dark elves. Is that the only type you have a thing for??

"And my own kind... 1/2 demons." She said quietly. "Someone that understands ... well me."

He shook his head. ?I'd rather it be someone who learns about me. Instead of someone who already thinks they know. But, that's me.

"Well, understands this darkness." She said in all seriousness, "I want them to know and learn, but it helps if they have some idea what they are getting into."

?Okay, I'll grant you that. But, you might try and give us mere mortals a chance every once in a while. We might surprise you. Like, take now for example. Want me to help you with some of that shopping??

She lifted a toe to nudge at him with a smile, "You would hmm? Sure, I could use the company."

?I wouldn't mind at all.? A snap of his fingers, and his guitar... vanished. ?I'll even go so far as to carry the bags.?



(Thank you to Esteban for the live play!!! The song he was singing is "Jizz in my Pants" by The Lonely Island... Yes, I was rolling when I heard it. Just you wait... Getting ideas now ;) )

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-03-09 11:03 EST
(Saphira's Shed, After Twilight Island Duels)
Part 1

As Lune swept away on widespread wings to carry the ointment to Saphira, Mystri watched with a lingering wistfulness. She wanted to take to flight. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to fly so far away that this place and the people in it became nothing more than memory.

For the first time she found herself bound. Bound to a place. Bound to its people.

And it hurt.

It was easier to embrace the anger. Easier to just be dismissive, rude, and abrasive. People avoided her as a general rule to begin with and now with her armored resolve in place she managed to turn away even those who would've once endured her temperament.

"You know Mystri, you don't have to do this."

Cadence's words had seen right through to her heart. Her roommate's frustration with the icy resolve having finally reached its zenith over breakfast that very same morning. Mystri hadn't even realized that she was being so cold toward her lover or she might've reined it in; though, truth told she wasn't sure. She'd abruptly left after Cadence's insightful complaint and had added her to the growing list of people she was avoiding. Even now she lingered out here at Saphira's old shed as if afraid to return to her rooms.

Shaking her head in a fluffy shag of platinum and pink she made her way toward the Institute, gliding over the grounds as unnoticeable as a slinking cat in a neighborhood backyard.

She did have to do this.

Her instincts urged her to fight or flight but she didn't have to give into either desire. She had...friends. A connection here to this place. There was Saphira and Lune. Blizzard and Cadence. Her gate party had become almost pack like to her way of thinking: Xera, Myraddin, Kish, and Angel. There would always be Uziya. And now strangely enough Brais. Without whom she wouldn't have been able to honestly understand...

...Albion.

"I'm with Quillyan."

Just thinking about him brought a winced breath. The anger was no longer working. She'd used it to keep her distance from him but he was persistent and the look of confused pain on his face when she'd brushed him off at the Island had nearly done her in.

It had been the bite of fury that had kept her from his path. After their confrontation in the conjuration lab, she'd thought she might work through it still. And then he'd invited Xera to examine their tomb. The one they'd discovered together. He'd simply...replaced her.

Where there was once the furious bloom of fury now there was a hollow aching resentment.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-03-09 11:03 EST
Part 2

And a primitive desire to rip the throat from the object of her competition. It was a compelling desire, rooted within her supernatural roots. The people in her race were known for their violence, specifically over lovers. She'd avoided both he and Quillyan out of sheer necessity. Anytime she was near the redheaded novice she felt a nearly uncontrollable desire to end her life.

The other day Mystri had departed class before it had even started. Arriving in Trachu's class in time to see Quilly's willowy form finishing the obstacle course well ahead of where she would've been able to perform before. For a moment she'd been happy for her, thrilled at a fellow novice's success and then she'd seen Albion's emerald green gaze flash in her memory, filled with pain and confusion as he had haltingly explained his position.

Mystri shifted then and there. A nearly rabid hybrid form of claws and teeth. From her concealed distance she could clearly see and scent the frantic race of the pulse in Quillyan's neck and before she did something that would damn her, she had left.

Albion had made his decision clear. He had feelings for Quillyan. Deep feelings.

His words lingered like a scalding acid upon her heart. What had happened between them had been a "transmutative accident" or a "byproduct of the emotionally and magically charged circumstances."

Mystri wasn't aware that tears had welled in her eyes until she heard, "Are you crying?" The shocked tones of Ivinia Delirian drawing a startled snarl from the shapeshifter. How had she not noticed the nymph sneaking her own path back within the school?

"Fuck off Ivinia. I'm not in the mood."

"I've already fucked on and off for the majority of the day, Thanks." The dismissive flip of her champagne hair hid any hint of concern she had for her former roommate. The sexy sashay carrying her away from the dismally downcast Mystriana, "You should try it, though to be honest, if I was never successful in fucking the bitch out of you I don't think anybody could help."

Mystri hissed.

And in her heightened state of anger she became immediately aware that she was no longer alone. This time her senses warned of the danger moments before the shapes parted from the shadows.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Tsk, tsk, little shapeshifter. That's not the question you should be asking."

The lazy amused tone had the hackles rising and Mystri snarled, "Alright, let's try another one then, who the fuck wants to give me a target for all this fucking anger?"

Four.

From each of the directions they came. Their laughter was elegant and chilling.

"Come, little gossip, we just want to...talk."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-10 20:45 EST
She stood by the lake looking at a card in her hand. Was turned it over in her fingers as if weighing a serious matter.

Was that all it came down to for her? Guys only wanted to f*** her? What about what she wanted. Within the last week she had been approach for no strings attached. She felt cheap.

She wanted the passion to mean something more than a quick roll in the sheets. She wanted to feel as though she mattered. Hells, she wanted to stop feeling like the fifth wheel.

The card was flicked away from her...

She lost a lot of respect for the blue Kirn. She had standards and didn't sleep around with the first male to look her way.

Her father taught her a great deal about self-respect.

Even if it meant she was sleeping alone.

She murmured softly..."If you love someone, set them free. It they return it was meant to be..."

She scowled and looked out at the water. "What a crock of shit..."

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-03-12 00:02 EST
?So, let me get this straight.? Iameth mused from his lazy recline against a sea of large, lush pillows. He sat upon a rather lavish bed, its size great enough to fit half a dozen comfortably, with thick blankets and silken sheets swarming about his lavender body. ?You called her a tease??

?She is a tease.? Felix sternly confirmed, appearing as stiff and ridged as ever. He held his arms tightly at his side, spell book tucked into the slight bend of the right one. ?You should have seen the look in her eyes. The pain. It was all so??

??Pointless?? The Overseer of House Viperfang derisively inquired.

Felix was caught off guard by the interjection, though the surprise was hard to read upon his illegible visage. He stared at the recumbent Iameth, noting the undulating movement that rolled beneath the sheets covering his legs and hips. It appeared that he was not alone. Unfazed, the Apprentice continued. ?Invigorating. The upstart infants of Stormsabre need to be put in their place, and to see her wriggle within the grasp of my harsh words made me want to crush her completely.?

Pupiless eyes melted away with a sudden elation that lasted a handful of seconds; a sharp, sudden inhale the only sound heard. Moments ticked away and then his gaze returned, along with his composure. ?I agree, though when cracking eggs it is better to use a light tap than a heavy hammer.?

?Do I use a hammer?? Felix asked with a smirk, almost liking the analogy.

?A sledge.? Iameth answered as the covers were drawn away to birth the alluring form of a sensual female who poured from the bed upon shaky legs that implied a spirited use.

Naked and uncaring, the woman turned to face Felix, whose stoic fa?ade shattered with a coughing scoff. ?Pri?Primorius Discipulus??

Indeed, it was Tiatari Blayne who stood before him; her pretty dove-grey eyes smoldering with a satiated desire and her lips, swollen and beautiful with labor, smirking. ?Something like that.? Her smooth flesh was marred by bite marks around the neck, shoulders, breast and stomach.

Iameth shared this wicked expression. ?You see, Mister Foster, in order to break something as delicate as the spirit you sometimes have to rely on options other than the brutal truth, no matter how good it feels to emotionally lacerate your prey.?

Felix arched a brow, which only grew higher as yet another pliable stretch beneath the sheets was noticed. His hard eyes inclined a fraction of space to meet the stare of the Sorcerer. ?Traits that I don?t necessarily admire.?

?And yet these traits can lead to even more pain than your brute tactics.? Iameth explained as he drew the covers away, revealing the enticing form of Ilyona Albaelia coiled around his muscular legs and hips, her head in his lap, bathing lavender thighs with a tawny cloud of silken hair. ?Depending on how you use them.?

Suspicion grew inside Felix and slowly he turned his gaze from the alluring embrace of Iameth and Ilyona to the sashaying backside of Tiatari, who made her way through the far archway, exiting the room. Slowly he looked back, incredulous expression firmly in place and shadowy amusement dancing in his eyes. ?They aren?t real, are they??

?Absolutely not.? Iameth laughed as his slender hand fell to Ilyona?s blonde elven head, stroking her hair with a near loving caress that left his fingertips inches from the savage bite mark upon her cheek. ?The authentic variety of these two particular beauties would be utterly appalled if they knew what became of their imitations just hours ago.? His eyes narrowed dangerously. ?Appalled and ashamed.?

?But if they are not real then you are not doing any real damage to them?? Felix folded his arms across his chest, triumph swirling in his gaze. ?Which makes your point invalid.?

Iameth looked thoughtful, dramatically so, and then nodded. ?A touching insight.? He tilted his head, a sinful look of mischief infecting his empty gaze. ?Though only if you are getting bogged down on the actual details. Deception works best when the party being deceived has no reason to suspect treachery. You know they are not who they seem because I?ve admitted as such, though had I not?? He let the statement hang in the air. ?Crack eggs with a thump, Mister Foster. Put the Hammer away.?

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-03-12 14:28 EST
?It?s not the talent, Monsieur Grazuul.? Zhennavieve LaCroix said in her songstress tenor. ?It?s the idea. Don?t take this the wrong way, but for an Illusionist you are rather?.uncreative.?

Uziya blurted out a laugh as he fell back in his seat, eyes ascending to stare up at the chandelier hanging from the room?s vaulted ceiling. ?Wow. That was blunt, and a bit rude.?

The alluring mien of her radiant visage alighted with a faux sense of shock, sympathy invading her enticing stare as lips bent into a startled ?o?. ?My goodness, Uziya. Had I known you would be so easily offended I would have kept on the gloves I use for criticizing my more delicate students.? She leaned forward, dainty hands, bathed in lace, falling to his knees. ?Don?t worry, Monsieur, you?ll get it one day. Keep your head up and it will come to you.?

The muscles in his leg tightened beneath her delicate touch and yet that did nothing to deter her. She was a master Illusionist, Uziya knew this, and thus harder to read than a blank sheet of paper.

After all, a blank sheet of paper can?t give you the wrong information.

Crimson eyes peered through the slim part of fallen lids and slowly his chin fell until she was fully in view. As always, the supple form of Mistress LaCroix was festooned in the Victorian garb of her homeland, complete with lung-hugging corset, lacy wrist gloves, and parasol. She embodied a fading innocence that most women lacked, and yet in her eyes was a mischief that explained this appearance as nothing more than a ruse. They sat across from each other in lavish wingback chairs that were angled for a formal audience, with enough space to keep them from touching, and yet somehow Zhennavieve had made this space seem so small.

He smiled. ?No thanks. I?m sure I can handle anything you throw at me.?

Her chin slanted and for a moment she looked offended, as though this proclamation was an insult that settled deep in her soul. ?I find that hard to believe, but we shall see.? Beneath the voluminous length of her skirt her legs folded with a soft whisper as she sat back, looking comfortable. ?How are things with you and Mage Blayne??

?Ah, the relationship question.? He mused. ?And here I thought you would go with something that had a bit more flare. It?s going good. She?s busy, I?m busy, but we make time when we can.?

?That?s a pity. I was hoping for something a bit more dire.? She made a face. ?Crumbling, perhaps??

?That?s bold, don?t you think??

?Maybe, though it would explain why you are spending so much time with Sorceress Rousseau.? The wire thin brow above her right eye arched. ?Or did you think that I asked for my own personal reasons??

Feeling a bit sheepish he let his eyes drift away. He certainly did think that she was asking for her own personal reasons, though wondered if he did so because he secretly hoped it true. ?Uh, yea. That?s not what it looks like.?

?We are Illusionists, Monsieur Grazzul. Nothing is ever what it looks like with us.?

?Good point. It?s more of a trick to make someone think that we are together so that he?ll leave Fleur alone.?

?Fleur?? That brow cambered higher. ?You mean-?

?Sorceress Rousseau.? He corrected himself.

She nodded with a smile, quietly applauding his rectification. ?But is she not with Mage Galician? Why pretend to be with something when she actually is with someone else?? She paused, a sense of realization flowing across her face. ?Unless Brais is the one you trying to make leave her alone.?

?Brais?? He said in a mocking tone that mimicked hers from just moments ago. ?You mean-?

?Brais.? She smirked. ?I am an Instructor and do not succumb to the guidelines of student protocol.?

?Then what do you succumb to?? He said with a grin, the twitch of his brow revealing a rather lascivious meaning.

?Whatever I wish.? She whispered from just above his left ear, her tantalizing breath sweeping across the shell and lobe.

Startled, he snapped around and lurched forward, coming out of the chair. As a Vampire she was able to move with a speed that defied human conception, and because of this was often able to get the jump on those not suspecting her advancement. Combine that with a mastery of Illusionary magic and she was a hard target to see coming.

?Are you trying to scare me to death??

?Hardly, Uziya. I?m just playing with you.? She winked and turned, a demure gait leading her toward the far door. When she arrived she paused and looked back to where he still stood in the center of the room. ?If you want to play with me, I?m here.?

He gasped.

The pureness of her smile was tainted by the appearance of elongated incisors framed by delicious red lips. She turned away and again started forward.

Uziya watched her go, not breathing until she was out of sight. Finally, once she was gone, his heart beat hard in his chest and ears, and his breath was labored. He turned and fell back into his seat, again looking up at the chandelier.

?We are Illusionists.? He quietly recalled. ?Nothing is ever what it looks like.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-13 21:55 EST
They somehow made their way back to Blizzard's room. She was feeling a bit relaxed with him. With Blizzard, she could be more herself. He didn't try to play games with her head. He liked to look and that was okay. He liked to flirt a lot and that was okay too. Well mostly, but she had a streak of honor when it came to her friends.

In a lot of way, he was like her cousin when it came to flirting. Yes, they flirted too, but there were lines not to be crossed. She knew the limits and let herself skirt that line in this case.

They started out with a few hands of poker. Stakes were the loser had to take a drink of the whiskey. She had an amazing tolerance, but there were limits. She was definitely more relaxed as the stakes changed. The drinking game turned into Strip poker. They each won and equal amount, but in the end, Blizzard won by one piece.

She couldn't help but admire that trim form. He did not look like some of the others in terms of Physique. He was in top shape and so delicious looking. She could understand the training he went through to get it. She was going through similar as her mother groomed her to be a shadowknight.

Alcohol and a lack of clothing lead to the loosening of inhibitions. She could for get for a while of her worries while they explored with body shots and flirting. She made a soft sound of pleasure with each caress. Part of her regretted that she could not take it all the way but honor refused to allow her to. The night was hot and she was willing to play along. The night would not be complete without sampling a kiss or five from those supple lips.

Still it felt good to be held like she mattered even if it was not meant to be.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-03-15 22:26 EST
Bryn paused to curtsey as Smout?n passed her at the threshold of the Necromancy Annex; it was a small bend of black-stockinged knees, a cross of delicate ankles, a dainty hand at the hem of a dark skirt.

But moreover, it was an entirely unnecessary display.

Still, she persisted in the swift and ceremonious gesture because it seemed to charm her esteemed instructor, for his mildly sinister countenance always shifted into a wan smile at the sight of his pretty pupil. With a favorable nod, he wished her good evening and continued on his way toward the school proper.

Bryn, for her part, slipped soundlessly down the stone stairs to the morgue-like lab beneath the main classrooms. At this hour, few students remained, so the grey-eyed apprentice was able to easily locate the slender slip of Jannara?s shadowy figure amidst the papers and reference books lining one illuminated corner.

?Mage Jannara,? Bryn greeted her, the volume of her ebullient voice respectfully repressed, ?how can I assist you??

The timid necromancer seemed surprised to see her, even though Bryn served as her facilitator every Tuesday evening. Despite the fact Bryn was her subordinate, Jannara seemed to have a difficult time holding the girl?s hollow gaze.

?Well, Bryn,? she began, the pitch of her voice lifting with undue questioning, ?I suppose you could look over these spell drafts from the novice class??

The Apprentice consented to the request with a dip of her chin and accepted bundle of papers, moving then to settle her insubstantial figure in a dark, heavy chair near the resource area. One, perhaps two, hours of reading and notation lay before her.

She lost three-quarters of an hour in her scholarly fixation, only to be disturbed by the near-soundless patter of small feet along the stone floor. In a flash of white fur and furiously amicable twittering, a Vadeni suddenly perched upon the arm of her chair, wildly fixing those frighteningly-large oculars upon her face and holding, in its miniature hand, a folded slip of paper.

?Thank you,? Bryn murmured as she accepted the note. As swiftly as it appeared, the Vadeni retreated through the lab and vanished up the staircase, bounding around perceived obstacles on unimaginably agile reflexes.

Bryn unfolded the note, instantly recognizing the smooth script within.

To my muse:

As of this evening, your likeness will be displayed in the general magic hallway west of the main library. I hope you will make time to see the finished product. As always, I value your opinion.

All the best,

Grant

Bryn?s pouty lips curved into a slow, serene smile, and in her moment of amusement, she caught Jannara?s shy curiosity.

?A painting,? she clarified, holding up the note, ?is being hung in the hallway. Of me.?

?Oh.?

Not wanting to seem immodest, Bryn made a lovely show of fluttery virtue, shaking her head and helplessly chiming: ?Grant?s idea, I?m afraid.?

?Ah.?

Bryn returned her attention to the papers, inspired to swiftly conclude her task for the evening.

She needed to see that painting.

Cadence Smyth

Date: 2011-03-18 19:21 EST
She'd gotten the job! And the first task had been to assist the choreographer with The Rocky Horror Picture Show!

Talk about dances!

She returned late that night breathless and excited. Even Mystri's distance did nothing to distract her from her private thrill of success. She was excelling in Bardic Music and was quickly learning the ropes in her other classes.

And Blizzard was fast becoming her favorite person ever. Their late night frolic with Saphira and Angelica had been a blast. The naughty card game and free flowing laughter the perfect way to pass an evening.

She knew herself well enough to recognize the signs. She wanted him. And he was securely taken. More than securely. He was double knotted even.

Pausing in the application of the eyeliner she made a face at her reflection. It wasn't worth it. She wasn't interested in long term, just feel good now and he was definitely happy in his happy ever after.

They made a good team. A great set of friends. He was always down for a concert, or willing to head out to the Inn and see what was up. Why mess that up for a fleeting good time?

Nodding, she finished the feathered touch of mascara to her sinfully long lashes. Batting them girlishly she giggled at herself before settling on a shiny lip gloss.

It wasn't like there weren't so many other delicious options floating about the school and elsewhere. Dabbing the shimmer along the bow of her lip she smacked them together and turned first one way and then the other.

She could never deliberately hurt another anyways. It just wasn't her style. The guilt would kill her. With that in mind she made a mental note to sit next to Ozalynne in Smout'n's class. Time to get to know her better, after all, she planned on staying friends with Blizzard for a good long while.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-03-19 00:43 EST
After the card game

She'd spent a good while playing cards with Cadence Blizz and Angel. Laughter and good times seemed to help her to feel less of the stress she'd been hiding over her pregnancy. She'd refrained from the drinking but had enjoyed socializing and had later sought out Kish. She slipped past Sartha's office soundlessly and rapped quietly at his door. Akemi opened it but let her in. "It's late," He griped good naturedly at her. "Kish is gonna owe me for this one." He muttered without real objection as he went back to his own bed. "Thanks, Akemi." Saph nodded to his back before turning to the sleeping Kish.

She slipped into his bed and nuzzled up to him, not waking him but rather wanting to be near him. Unconsciously he turned and slipped an arm over her in his sleep. She smiled to herself as their bodies molded together comfortably. It was not long before she slept as well. When the sun came streaming in the next morning to wake them her eyes fluttered open to find Kish staring at her with a smile.

"What?" She asked sleepily blinking up at him. "I can't look at the prettiest girl in school?" He countered leaning to kiss her. She laughed softly. "I don't know about that," She mused. "I'm getting rather....large." "Pfft! I don't care about that, Saph. I think you're gorgeous. And I like your belly. It gives me an extra reason to touch you." Demonstrating by promptly sliding his hand down as he often did to rest there. She looked at him seriously. "Why? You know very well what I carry, why do you behave as though it's yours?"

Her voice was soft as she asked him this. His brow furrowed and he thought a long moment before responding. "Because I love you, and besides, a kid needs a dad, right? I know what happened, and what it might be, but I also know it's part of you, and as special as you are, I know this baby has a chance." His voice was sincere as he lightly rubbed her belly. She stared at him a while, mulling his words over. "I wish everyone was as optimistic, and I want to believe that my baby won't be a monster, but we have to be realistic, there is a chance."

He shrugged, still looking at her. "Yeah, well there's also a chance it won't." Softer. "Isn't that the Argument you gave Albion?" He had her there and he knew it. "Yes." She replied. "I just don't want to see you get your hopes up to have them dashed is all." "Don't worry about it, Saph. Everything will be fine." He looked at her, with that familiar concerned expression. "How are you feeling, anyway? Been eating enough? Getting enough sleep?" She laughed. "Never enough sleep! But I'm managing. How's studying with Margot going?" He made a face. "I fear she's hopeless. All she does is make half hearted attempts and flirt with me. Even after I told her I wasn't interested. I told her once more and I won't tutor her anymore."

"Flirts?" She frowned. "I'll have a talk with her my-" "No." Kish interrupted. "I don't want you worrying about anything, understand? I will handle this. You don't need any stress being in your condition." She rolled her eyes. "I won't break, Kish, I promise you." "I know." He replied gently. "I just worry for you is all. On another note, lets get you fed, I know you have fire training today." She sighed. "Yeah, it's tough, too. I can't seem to ever get things perfect and he finds my particular brand of fire unsettling for some reason." Kish sat up and slid out of the bed and into his clothes. "Yeah I hear he's kind of a hard-as$, but don't tell I said that." She laughed sitting up herself. Her uniform was in her room but fur covered everything anyway so it didn't matter. "He is, but he is good at what he does, I can't deny that. Ugh I have papers to do today, too."

"First things first. Breakfast!" Thrusting his arm up pointing to the ceiling and striking a pose, if for no reason than to elicit another laugh. He succeeded. She laughed as she stood and headed for the door. "Alright, Lets go get some food." She opened the door and stepped out into the hall as he followed closely. He closed the door and they headed for the cafeteria for breakfast.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:25 EST
{Esteban & Angelica - Off School Grounds}

From the hails and waves, it seems he's a common fixture at this beach. He waved back, calling out friendly-sounding banter in that liquid Spanish he used when comfortable, then disappeared into the changing booth.

She met the speculative looks with a defiant tilt of her head. She slipped into the changing booth only to emerge quickly soon after. She had worn the bathing suit beneath the clothing.

His reemergence drew a whistle or two from some passing youths, carrying his duffel and sporting a brief black Speedo. ?So, shall we claim some lounge chairs??

There was an appreciative whistle there too. "Sure. Sounds like a plan."

?Bien!? He waved toward the open-air bar, and nodded as he pointed to a pair of unclaimed chairs near the water's edge. ?You remembered to bring sunscreen, I hope??

There was a chuckle, "I don't need it." She smiled sweetly to Esteban then turned to head for the chairs. Oh, he's quite content to follow, have no doubts.

The Bikini left very little to the imagination, including the tattoos that ran along her arms and her right side. His tats were rather subdued in comparison. A winged angel on his left calf, and a tribal chain around his right ankle.

She gracefully claimed a chair and looked up at him, "So lounge and soak up the sun?" A foreign concept to her.

?And drink. You can't forget that. Towel?? He'd brought a few, just in case.

She smiled and nodded, "Can't forget that. Please?"

Setting the duffel down upon the sand, he drew out a large floral print towel, and handed it over. ?Here you are.?

She took the towel and placed it near the chair, "How is school going for you?"

?Ugh.? Shaking out his own towel, white and black zebra-striped. ?Let's not go there. Miss Van Blaudin still has it in for me.?

"Well, there is a reason why she's the instructor. Have you heard Cadence Perform?"

?No, I can't say that I have, just yet.? And here comes the cabana boy, complete with coconut glasses. She accepts the glass with a warm smile to the boy.

And, true to his word, it's not the tattoos that are gathering appreciative glances from the passers-by. Slipping a pair of dark glasses over his eyes, he leaned back in the chair, and sighed loudly, still holding his drink. ?Ahhhh, now this is the life.?

She leaned back pulling a set of shades out of her pack. Yes, she had a pair. She felt the eyes on her and wasn't sure if she liked it or it made her uncomfortable.

?So, how have things been with you and your... project??

She shrugged a bit, "Just getting the costume together. Right now it's more attending the masquerade without looking like a Wallflower."

?Well, not quite the project I'd meant, but it's something interesting to talk about. Masquerade?? Yes, color him clueless.

"Rumors have it that Viperfang is arranging for a Masquerade ball. Not sure I want to attend that without an armed escort... or one of my cousins." She tilted her head a bit and arched a brow, "Which project?"

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:26 EST
? I believe you'd said something about getting your own back?? Internally, he's cursing. He knew Viperfang, having one of them for a roommate. Oh, were the tempers about to clash...

"Hmm, Going out more. Was out with Blizz and Cadence a couple of nights ago." Doesn't elaborate on the after party. She has one herself. Damien and Vliss has two. Though she was reminded of someone and fought to not let that bring her down, "Also coming out here. Talking to dad."

He nodded thoughtfully. ?And what did he say?? Meanwhile, he's peering over the rim of his glasses at some sun-kissed mermaid, splashing in the water. It's a momentary distraction.

The attention was drawn to the splashing, "He gave me an out if I don't want to remain at school."

?Are you going to take it??

"No. Not yet at least." She admitted quietly. "I like you guys too much to bail."

?Good.? Leaning back in the chair, he took a deep sip of the drink and sighed. ?We'd miss you.?

She sipped her drink thoughtfully. "I'd miss you and the others as well. Even a few of the guys that have been giving me issues."

?What kind of issues?? Again, true to his word, offering that ear.

"Just the whole mess with ..." She sighed softly, "Elkinid."

He made a rather rude noise, and shook his head. He looked for a split second like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

There was a half-smile on her lips, "Yeah, I know. Kinda hard because I care about him but I've been at least not moping."

?Nor should you be.? He's muttering under his breath.

She tilted her head to regard him, "And who is where with whom, Esteban?"

?Say what?? No offense, but the phrasing threw him.

She smiled at him, "Let me rephrase that. I am here, soaking up the sun with a hot bard."

?Ahhh. True, very true. Oh... merde, I didn't think about that. What will the gossipmongers say??

She chuckled, "Vith'em if they can't take a joke." She said quietly, "Unless it's going to cause you issues?"

?I don't think it will, no.?

She arched a brow at that, "Not like we're in any compromising positions either."

He chuckled, ?Only if they could see what we were sporting, hmmm? Both of us here in our barely-theres.?

"What makes you think they can't." She winked. "And this is tame, honestly."

?That's tame????

She laughed then, "Come on, Esteban. With the way some of our classmates carry on?"

?Oh, you meant attitude. And here I'm thinking you meant your suit there. Silly me.?

She chuckled, "I mean the bedroom. I room with Tia and Uziya."

Shrugging, he took another sip. ?Honestly, you'll laugh... but I've been damn-near celibate for months now. No time anymore, and that's a shame.?

"Who's laughing, I'm in the same boat. I... just don't do casual easily."

?I'd been meaning to ask about that. If you're feeling up to talking about it, that is.?

She looked at him, "I.. guess."

?Only if you want to, Angel. Not going to push you into it.? Though there's thoughts of swimming floating through his mind.

She tilted her head curious, "What's on your mind?"

?Mischief. But that's for later.?

She chuckled at that, "Well? One step at a time."

Chuckling himself, he shook his head. ?No, I'd just had a thought about a swim if it gets too hot in the sun.?

She regarded him over the glasses, "Now why would I feel up to talking about that?"

?You asked me what was on my mind. But yes... that iffy thing about casual intimacy. If you're ready.?

She nodded, "Might as well. What's on your mind? Aside from swimming" She stuck her tongue out at him

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:27 EST
?Why are you against it?? If there's a momentary bit of double-x chromosome posturing and flexing, it's the setting, that's all.

"I grew up in Rhydin. I've seen what comes of it. I've had my experiences with... people disappearing."

?All right... So what's the problem? If casual flings disappear, there's no awkward phone calls, no uncomfortable meetings in public places...? He shrugged.

"I don't know how to explain it. Guess I see examples of what works and want that." She shook her head, "Elkinid only wanted casual. Hurt me pretty bad when he led me on."

Smiling ruefully, he shook his head. ?Querida, you have to start somewhere. Either by going the route of falling for a friend, or testing the waters to see who gives you the most bang for your buck. But the kind of relationship that just works... that's the stuff of fairy tale and legend. Good relationships are nothing /but/ work, if you ask me.?

"I don't mind the work, I... just don't want it to be only about the sex."

It doesn't have to be just about sex. But, that's not to say the sex isn't a good portion of the fun of it.

"That's the only thing I worry about. But I also want a solid foundation too?

?Alright... what kind of solid foundation??

"Trust, Friendship. The stuff that matters. I don't mind building that. My parents started as enemies. As in vicious."

He nodded, slowly. ?I can see that...?

"It makes sense? If it doesn't work, that's life. But I at least want to try without having to worry about the mind games."

He nodded, slowly, then waved the cabana boy back over for another round. Seems he's drunk his coconut dry. ?Pardon my curiosity, but what kind of mind games do you mean??

She also waved for one, "Well, like Elk has been playing."

?Elk's a dog. Pure and simple. But if that's the main issue, just keep an eye out for dogs.?

There was a half-smile on her lips, "Yeah. Been trying."

?Good. So, anyone in particular catching your fancy these days??

She shook her head, "No... no one I'm gaga over. Just hoping for opportunities.?

?Hoping, or hunting??

"Hoping." She said quietly and looked at the water. "I ... gave up on hunting."

He sighed, shaking his head, and taking the refill when it arrived. ?/Querida/, hoping for love without doing a little hunting is like dreaming of what you'll do with lottery money when you never play.?

"Just tired of getting burnt. I flirt, I play.... and I'm still the one alone." She looked back at him. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I either come too blunt, or not doing enough." She shook her head

With a nod, he sent the cabana boy over with her drink. ?What's life without a little risk? And no, you aren't alone in being alone. Remember? Honestly, these days? I don't even know who I should bother asking.?

She arched a brow, "I came on too honest out of the gate. Had you back pedaling." There was a hint of hurt there.

Well, that's a deeper drink than he expected to need... ?I also had just woken up, wasn't on my best behavior, and was more than a little cranky. For that, I apologize.

She nodded at that, suddenly glad for the shades. "I'm inept at this." The lips twisted, "I am not chasing, but I need to hunt... I wish this was easy. Buut, then it wouldn't be worth it."

?You must be kidding me. Looking like you do, you think it's not easy? Try this. See that guy, all the way over there? Wait until he's looking this way, then curl your finger at him.?

She arched a brow, "Ahh, no thank you. I know what the looks do. Why do you think I don't enhance them?" She sighed softly.

?Then what's the hard part??

"Someone that takes me serious. Beyond the looks and all that."

?Oh. Culling the wheat from the chaff, hmm?? He shrugged, ?And yet, you're denying yourself some fun in the process.?

She nodded a bit. "I may be. But then the fun is not so much fun."

?Oh you have /got/ to be kidding me. Not fun??

"I'm weird, I get it." She said with a shake of her head, "I've already been hurt enough as it is. Bintyl, Zabdiel, Elkinid... The guys that look are with someone else too. Uziya. Blizzard.?

And in each of those, were you expecting the long-term?

"In two of them... committments were made. One keeps playing with my emotions. One looks at me but that's it. The other was flirting and play without crossing that line."

He thought for a moment. ?And what about that one guy? What was his name... You and he were in the ring when I'd gone up against that policewoman... He certainly seemed interested. As did you, if I saw right.?

"The Kirn... An offer of... sex."

?Oh, so more casual. Gotcha. I think Quilly, Xera and Albion all have his card.?

She looked off into the distance. "Tried that too. I felt like a fool on the morning after."

?Why??

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:28 EST
"The self-respect thing. My dad taught me to have a least a little."

?So... your self-respect means no sex without something long-term.? He didn't look like he understood, but he shrugged. ?If that's how you feel, then that's how you feel. I think you're setting yourself up for more disappointment in the long run, but that's one bard's opinion.?

She was still regarding him and shook her head, "Because I'm not my mother." She ground out a bit.

?And yet, you want to be her. At least a little.?

"Do I? I want what mom and Dad have... But before she got with him yes... it was casual. She was a slaver."

?¿Lo que??

"They both were. They were also enemies. His house bucked against the Association and She was Third in command of it."

He shook his head. ?Sorry, I keep forgetting. A what??

"A slaver. They captured, kept and sold slaves." She said quietly, "You have heard of Anubis Karos?"

He didn't answer, not right away. But the look on his face spoke volumes.

"A local slaver. One of my uncles."

?Esclavitud. ¿Cómo repugnante. ¿Qué tipo de enfermos, hijo de puta trenzado consideraría incluso tal cosa? Esa es una de las cosas más viles, pervertidas que he escuchado de.? He muttered along the same vein for a moment, then looked up with a raised eyebrow. ?Your uncle????

She had to figure that was coming. "Yes. My parents, three of my uncles and an aunt."

?But not you??

She shook her head at that, "Our parents shielded us from that as much as possible. Same with my cousins..."

He took a deep breath, putting the kibosh on any further Spanish epithets. ?Oookay... So, you don't want to be like your mother, who engaged in a great deal of casual sex before she met the man who'd become your father, and wound up with a nice lasting relationship.?

It sounded weird to her a bit, "I guess." She shook her head. "With everything I know. I want it to be a nice bonus, but not the main focus." That really summed her up.

?You'd rather have the nice, lasting relationship without all the casual sex at the beginning of it.? He sipped his drink, and quirked his brow.

She looked off, to the distance. "It sounds like I want to save myself and that's not the case. Gods, this is coming out so wrong."

?No, what it sounds like is pretty common. No one wants to be their parents. But, you also see what your parents have now, and you want that. You'd just rather not get to the same destination via the same path.?

"Yeah, and I don't mind following in Dad's footsteps... except for the slaving part."

He nodded.

"Dad taught me about nature and the wilderness. Being a Ranger."

One of these days, she might remember that the bard here is a city-boy, born and bred.

"Daddy's little girl, a tomboy."

Ah, now that he understood. ?You consider that a problem? Maybe... a reason no one wants to stick around??

"If it is, people can deal. This is me." She said quietly. "Part of the package."

Chuckling softly, he leaned back in his chair, after dragging it over a little closer. No need to shout it all out, after all. ?So use it. Make friends first, then surprise someone out of the blue.?

She looked at him once again. "I am trying." All the advice had her head spinning and her confused.

He waved toward the drink she'd left untouched. ?Take a drink. Then take a breath. Remember, we're here to relax.?

She took a deep drink closing her eyes at the moment, "Trying. Just feel like a lot of doors are closed to me. Because I managed to close them on myself."

?You've been going around with the attitude of ?I want love that lasts.? Instead, just be friendly. Don't make any offers you aren't willing to back up. Make friends, and use your subtlety to find out things. Like whether or not a fella is looking for Ms. Right, instead of Ms. Right Now.?

She was glad for the glasses right now. Another drink of her beverage.

?It's... a confidence thing. Instead of acting like you want a relationship, act like you're comfortable without one.?

"I'm not comfortable." She admitted. "Look around at the others. People pairing off and the like... Hells, you've got a cling-on yourself."

?Just because everyone else I... wait. I've got a klingon?? At that, he's pulling off the glasses, and checking out his reflection for anything like a dangling participle from his nose.

"Mercedes of late." She pointed out. "And Yes, just because everyone else is. I don't like feeling like the one on the shelf or the third wheel. Yes, it's uncomfortable and I'm not the only one."

He shook his head. ?Angel, I haven't even seen Mercedes in two months now. What makes you think she's still pining away for me??

"She's been in seclusion. She's not well, to be sure. But she was getting clingy on a few males, including my brother."

?There you go. You're not alone in being unpaired.? Though why he should be proud of that... ?I mean, really. I haven't even seen Ivinia for months now! And she likes everybody!? Yeah, there's a certain note of frustration in his voice.

There was a dry note, "Almost"

?Almost what?? Waaaaay off on the horizon, there's a plume of white, like something flashed under the waves.

"Almost everyone. But hey yanno, I also don't often swing that way."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:29 EST
Aaaannnd cue the plume, yet again. ?/Respiraciones profundas, hermano. Tomar respiraciones profundas. No hace falta ser surgiendo duro aquí...? There's the muttering.

She arched a brow at that, "Don't make me cast the Tongues spell, Esteban."

?Cast it if you'd like...? He's staring off into the distance, and sipping absent-mindedly, until that slurping noise brought it to his attention that he'd hit bottom on the coconut again. Impatiently, he waved the cabana boy over again, holding up two fingers. She might not be done with hers, but dang if he's not up for a double this round.

She sighed softly, "I know I'm weird. I haven't been with anyone since before Yule..." She holds her tongue with any number of things that could be said that would whig him out more.

?Which would be around the time I had that talk with Xera, I believe.?

"Xera was Damien and Damien got torked when he got rejected by her. He was trying to ask her out in his own way without freaking her. That was a fail. I ... really hadn't seen Zabdiel since the last All Ranks tourney I was in." She admitted softly.

He took the drink with a curt nod. ?And yet, when I explained what she'd been doing to him, what does she do? Drops trou, says I'm the best roomie ever, and goes to take a shower. No offense, Angel... but it's getting to the point where I'm considering venturing outside the school to find a bit of relief.?

"You'd have better luck than I have." She sipped her drink rather upset about that comment.

?Luck schmuck. What I'd need is enough of a bank account.?

"Like I said..." She shrugged. The tone however spoke volumes.

If he'd been paying closer attention, he might've noticed. ?Ah, maldita todo. Vine aquí a relajarse, no se quejan de ser célibe.? Letting his head fall back against the lounge chair, he tried to get comfortable while there was still a good bit of daylight. ?My apologies, Angel. This hasn't been the most... relaxing of conversations. For either of us.?

"No it hasn't. Cue another reason I'm trying not to be like a lot of the women in Rhydin." She said quietly as she drank the rest of this round. "But do enjoy."

He sat for a good long moment, pensively quiet, before leaning forward. ?I'm thinking now's a good time for a swim. Feel like joining me??

She glanced at him, "That might be a good idea. I need to cool off.. Before I snap someone?s head off."

?Namely mine?? Smiling, he winked behind his sunglasses and stood, offering a hand up.

She took the hand and stood, "Namely yours. That's twice now, Esteban. A girl doesn't like being reminded she's not wanted by the hot guy."

That made him stop for a moment. ?I didn't say I didn't want you. However, I'm also trying to respect your wishes.? He let out a sigh, and turned toward the water. ?Angelica, let's be rather blunt here. I happen to like sex. I get very frustrated when I don't get to have it. I like it best, when it's a friend who understands that about me. I'm not looking for love, because I know I'm not ready for it. I promised you, no games. So forgive me, I've been sitting here with you, staring at how you look in that suit, and thinking of spider covered grandmothers to avoid embarrassing myself.?

She murmured, "You are not the only one affected." She turned for the water. She shrugged a bit, "Just hurt because of what I want to hear that.?

Reaching down, he grabbed for her hand. ?Angel...?

She looked at him over those glasses, "Remember, I am half-demon, Esteban. I might be following the wrong course, but if I were to follow what is whispering in me... I could hurt people."

?Anyone can hurt people, Angel. It's just a matter of degrees. And as for your heritage... I'd say you got the hot half of the demon.? He laughed a little, then sobered (in a sense). ?However, that doesn't help here. I said no games. I like casual sex for the sake of enjoying the sex. You've already told me that's not how you work. So, no matter what I think, or what I might want, I wasn't going to put pressure on you for my sake, alright? So, before you claim a third time that I've pissed you off, let me be blunt one more time. I like you. You're a friend. Hopefully, we'll be good friends. I think you're one of the hottest things on two legs. But until you say so, I'm trying to keep my libido away from you, alright??

"Yeah, you are not looking for a girlfriend, just the sex. Where I want someone to see me for more than just sex." She drew the hand away before she gave into the temptation. The shades were dropped on the lounge

?Por el amor de Dios, es como hablar con una pared de ladrillos!? He shook his head, and tossed his glasses onto the lounge chair, stalking off toward the water.

She murmured the words of that spell quietly. And a few over words that seemed indistinct from growls.

Understood or not, he kept on going toward the water, diving in when he'd gotten deep enough. She moved through the water easily, diving in and glad she could hide the range of emotions she was feeling. Including calling herself every type of fool.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:30 EST
Once he'd swum out his frustration (a good half-hour or so), he turned back toward the beach, water sheeting off of him as he strode for the chairs. Fortunately, the cabana staff were the attentive types, and there's fresh drinks handy.

She surfaced and pushed that salt and pepper mane from her face. Forgoing the drink for a moment, he sat, toweling out his hair, and staring at the sand. She strode from the water and accepted the towel from the overly attentive cabana boy. There was a thoughtful look as she wrapped around herself covering from her chest down.

Glancing up, he winced when he saw that, and sighed. ?¿Mierda, yo realmente jodido esto todo hasta, no??

She felt the need to cover up a bit seeing as she was making thing difficult, "I'm trying to make this easier..." She sat down and reached for that drink again.

He chuckled, softly. ?Kind of like covering up a Vargas. The image is already there, querida.?

"I don't know what else to do. Hades bless, I can't seem to do anything right." She took a long drink.

Taking a deep breath, he looked her dead in the face. ?I promised no games. Now, I'm asking the same. You've said I insulted you twice now, by saying I didn't want you. At the same time, you've kept telling me you didn't like being wanted in that way. I understand, you're looking for the rest of the plate to go with dessert, but please. Stop taking insult when it's not intended. It's not that I don't find you attractive. I'd just rather think you're attractive and not say it, so that I don't piss you off. No creo que puedo conseguir mucho más claro que eso.?

"No. You can't. Nor can I which makes me feel like I keep running into another wall." She said quietly. "I had wanted to relax enough to maybe... let go for a little while if that makes sense."

?It does, yes. So, how about this? I make a phone call to move the reservation up, and we make it a light lunch instead of dinner?? Yes, he'd planned a surprise. Authentic Spanish cuisine with margueritas.

She nodded at that, "Alright. try to let this go a bit?" She finished that drink

?I'd like that, actually.? He waved over the server for their... fourth? Fifth? Whatever drink it was, he's waving it over.

She nodded at that, tucking it away a bit. She looked at the drinks he was having. "High tolerance?"

?Mother's milk. No, I'm kidding. But I've been drinking these for years now, and worse. Comes with the tours.?

She nodded at that, "Okay." She moved to lift her bag, "then you won't mind if I change."

You change, I'll make the phone call.? At least for his part, changing is much easier and needed less privacy.

She nodded and went into the changing rooms. Just wait until he gets a load of this one. The Bikini was stripped off and contemplated burning it as useful as it had been. It was put into a plastic bag and shoved into the bag. She slipped into a pantsuit that was more to her taste.

She had no idea how useful said bikini had been. But that's another story for another time. When she emerged, he's sitting on the chair, in a pair of black denim jeans (still unbuttoned), barefoot, with his shirt over one shoulder. His phone's still tucked to his ear, and a liquid flow of Spanish slipped from his lips to the device.

She moved to stand near the lounges. The white with black accents and sharp change for the half-demon. "Problems?"

Noting her approach, he said one last thing, and flipped it closed, tilting his head to whistle appreciatively. ?Suddenly, I feel underdressed.?

"Too much?" She looked a bit sheepish at that. Yes, she had zero clue some days. Ilyona was teaching her a bit, but it showed.

?That depends on what your intentions are. And no, I just need to make a stop along the way to match. Tell me, have you ever eaten real Spanish cuisine before??

"No, Britiania, Rhydin... Not Spanish."

?You're in for a treat, then.? Chortling to himself, he stood, picking up his shoes after shrugging the shirt on.

She shook her head with a soft chuckle, "Should be interesting."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:30 EST
Thanks to his phone call, a cab waited for them in the parking lot, a few moment's walk away. He waited until they'd reached the grass to slip his shoes on, wiping sand off his feet first. And, gentleman that he is, he opened the door for her. ?After you.?

She slipped into the cab, trying not to look around in surprise. Not used to things like this? sort of.

Another trill of Spanish to the driver, who smiled that bright smile indigenous to the region, and took the scenic route before stopping at a clothing boutique. ?Excuse me for just a moment. I need a little something... different.?

She nodded and waited in the cab for him. There was a curious look to the boutique.

Moments later, he emerged, having cleaned up rather well. He still sported the black denim, but paired it with a silver-trimmed silk dress shirt, buttoned most of the way up, and a pair of black boots to go with. ?There we are. Controlador! El restaurante, si, por favor!?

There was an appreciative smile to go with the look. Her own outfit was lightweight for the weather.

The cab zoomed the rest of the way, stopping again in front of a rather tastefully decorated establishment. Smiling broadly, he stepped out and held the door, offering his hand. ?So, feeling hungry??

She took his hand and stood gracefully. "Yes. A bit."

?Excellent. Mind if I order? I promise, it'll be fantastic.? She is in his territory, after all. Leading her up the steps, he opened the door with a dramatic flourish.

She slipped inside, "I'm trusting you on this." That was a big step for her, seriously.

?Good. I hope to not let you down.? Confirming the reservation with the host, they were seated quickly, and a waiter stood attentively immediately. ?S?, podrá empezar con la ensalada de salmón y un lanzador de margueritas. Para el plato, vamos a tener el pollo en salsa de Jerez y terminar con el flan de.?

She sat quietly listening to the order given. There was a nervous chewing on her bottom lip.

He winked, and chuckled when the pitcher arrived with two salted wide-rim glasses. ?I hope you don't mind, but I ordered crushed ice.?

She chuckled at that, "I don't mind." She looked around in awe."

The ambiance was fantastic. Crystal in the chandeliers, a mariachi band playing a quiet tune in the next room, and candles lit on the table. Pouring two glasses, he set one in front of her and raised his. ?Shall we toast??

She took the glass and looked at him, "Sure."

Still smiling that beaming smile, he clinked the edge of his glass against hers. ?To the start of a wonderful friendship, si??

She clinked the glass against his, "Aye."

As they sipped, the first course arrived. Grilled salmon over a bed of lettuce, marinated in olive oil and lemon, with a drizzle of white wine vinegar.

She sipped the drink then set it aside to sample the dish before her. She was curiously quiet.

?Ahh, muchas gracias. So, what do you think?? He's digging in with gusto. It'd been a while since breakfast, after all.

She took a few more bites, "It's very good."

?I'm glad you like it.? This time, there's a wink to go along with that grin. He's nearly finished with his, when the second course arrived. Chicken breasts, browned in olive oil with saut?ed onions, mushrooms, and slices of ham, all simmered in a broth of sherry and bay leaf.

She finished off her plate and smiled at the next course, "This is... different."

?It's one of my favorites. I hope you like it.? He sipped more Marguerita, and offered her some refill from the pitcher.

She nudged the glass over to him, "The food is fantastic. Just..." She blushed a bit, "Haven't been out like this."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:32 EST
His head tilting as he poured. ?Out like what??

"To a restaurant..." She looked up.

He stopped mid-pour. ?You're kidding me.? He wasn't laughing at her, but he did appear quite astonished.

She had the grace to blush, "I've spent part of my time growing in combat. Most of the time training..." She took a deep drink of the Marguerita.

Well, he refilled it again when she was done. ?Then I propose another toast. To correcting oversights.? With a wink, he lifted up the glass.

She smiled and lifted the glass, "Indeed." She clinked the glass on his.

?So, other than fighting, training, and liking being in the woods... what do you enjoy?? Forking up some of the rice beneath the chicken, and enjoying the flavor of the sweet sherry soaked into it.

She took a few bites before answering, "Dancing,"

Something else stopping him mid-motion. This time, with a forkful of rice halfway to his mouth. ?You like to dance, and all this time, you've never told me? Querida, I sing for a living.?

"I'm getting used to doing it for more than exercise."

?I imagine you're quite a talented little rugburner, actually.? Oh, what he could imagine. But no, not now. Now's the time to keep calm.

She blushed again, "Cadence thought it was cute the way me and Blizz were dancing."

?Oh did she now.?

"Well, I'll have to dance sometime."

?I think I'd like that a lot, actually.? Once they'd finished, the waiter cleared their plates, and brought a traditional Spanish dessert. Flan, infused with lemon and cinnamon. ?Oh, you're going to really like this...?

She smiled and started in on the dessert. The sweet tooth was evident there.

?So, what do you think? I hate to keep pestering, but I'm quite curious.?

"It is fantastic, Esteban."

?And how are you feeling??

"I'm okay. Just so much going on and I do feel out of my depth in a lot of ways."

?There's not so much going on here, is there? Two friends, sharing a nice meal, discussing dancing and possibly tattoos? What's to be out of your depth there?? Faint but there, it's still a smirk.

She arched a brow at that, "New Territory, Esteban." she said quietly, "And tattoos is the topic now? Next you'll be asking what mine taste like." She teased lightly there He could probably guess the originator of that flirt... Blizz.

?At the moment? Salt water, olive oil, and marguerita. No, I was more fascinated by the complexity. Who's your artist??

She thought about it at that moment, "There was an artist in B-town. I took a couple of trips there.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 10:34 EST
?He does fantastic work. Me, I got mine on a dare, down in the barrio. I don't recommend that...?

"I don't recommend going to B-Town alone. I had... protection at the time."

?I'm sensing another delicate subject there. How about we discuss plans for more tattoos now that we're older and wiser??

"No plans at the moment. I did these on a lark, though if I find something that appeals I may add it on and no names permanently engraved on my body.?

?I'll toast to that.? Wow, they've already gone through half the pitcher. And it seems like it's finally starting to get to him, if but a trifle.

She was taking a bit slower, she could feel it, though she was a bit more resistant by nature.

At last, the waiter brought their check, which he promptly signed for. ?So, I suppose it's getting time for us to be heading back, hmm??

"I suppose so. We staying the night or heading back?"

Up went that eyebrow. ?Oh, you tempt me.? But, there's that smile, still. ?No, I think it would be best for both of us if we went ahead and headed back.?

She nodded a bit, "Alright." Something in that tone though. She finished her drink and patted her lips clean. The napkin placed on the table.

He finished his, too, and left a sizeable tip, before offering his arm. ?Shall we??

She looped her hands around his arm. "Yes. Before Sartha figures out we are not in before curfew."

Nodding to the host, he waited until their bags were brought. ?Then I suppose we'd best go the quick way, hmm??

She nodded at that, biting her lip, "Your way or mine?"

?Oh, let's try for mine. You know the way to your room from mine much better than I know the way to mine from yours.?

"That's fine." She could take the shadow paths. Still it seemed, anti-climatic.

He whistled a jaunty tune, and a wavering ring formed in the air, briefly showing the interior of the suite before settling on the hallway outside. He may be a little tipsy, but he's not stupid enough to pop in where a certain pair might be. ?Shall we??

She nodded, that would be a shock to her. She still did not know. "Yes, lets."

The portal brought them back to his rooms. With a quick peck to his cheek, she was slipping into the shadow paths. She chose to return to her suite. Of course it was the same routine and it was getting on her nerves. Add to that the frustration of the trip and she felt like killing something...


(Thank you Esteban for the play... More to come!)

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 16:02 EST
{Anise Wing - A Couple of Days after the Beach}

Back in his room, he sat on the couch, for once having the suite to himself. Which happened to be a good thing, as he's practicing a new tune on the guitar, and still recovering from a certain outing a few days ago.

She was head for the practice ring. The rings would be quiet right about now and she needed out of her rooms. Cinder was just waking up and being a pain in her arse.

It's a soft, haunting melody, strummed with half-murmured lyrics. Even through the door warding, someone astute might catch a note or two.

She was passing by the chamber when the music caught her attention. She knew where she was and guess he was practicing. She moved to the door unsure if she should make her presence known.

Of course, the reason the music could be heard might be due to the door being cracked partially open. It's too stuffy in there otherwise, what with all the heat going on.

She saw the crack in the door and peeked in to watch him practice. Inwardly she was cursing herself as every kinda fool.

One last strum, and his hand settled over the strings. Silence descended, but broke with a chuckle. ?You don't have to hover outside the door, you know.?

She sheepishly slipped inside. "Didn't want to disturb you."

?And what is music without an audience? Even an audience of one is more than welcome.?

She refrained from making a comment, especially after the outing.

?And how are you feeling? I'm finally recovering myself, just so you know. I think I should avoid that whole maitai/marguerita mashup from here on out.? He scooted over on the couch, offering her a seat there.

She moved over to sit down on the couch, "All things considered, I'm doing alright."

?And yet, you're wound up like a Rolex again. Anything you'd care to share??

"Living in Shared quarters with that Viperfang Leech." She used the derogatory term for a vampire.

?I can see how that would put a pall on the day... I've got a Viperfang culo myself to deal with. Thankfully, everyone's out today.?

"Since mine's nocturnal, he's just waking. He's such a smug bastard I don't know whether I want to pull the stick from his nether quarters, or drive it up further with my boot in the hopes of staking him."

Well, that sure got a laugh out of him. ?Feel like a drink??

She nodded at that, "Yes. I was about to go exercise a bit and try to strengthen my leg." She patted the one that had gotten the acid bath.

?Alright... how about some company?? With a deft twirl, he's already tucking the guitar back in its case. It seemed he's of a relaxing mindset today, in an old pair of sweats and a basic t-shirt.

She was in leggings and a tank top. "Alright. Maybe we can help each other out. You need to practice the instrument?"

?I could, if you'd like.?

"Well I could use some music for what I'm going to do?"

?Sounds like a good plan to me then. Lead on.? Smiling broadly, he plucked up the case.

She smiled at him and headed for the door. She took a turn for the practice rings. There was a slight limp as she moved. After the two times she's gotten badly injured, you'd think she'd learn better. Nope...

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 16:02 EST
?I don't think I've ever been to the practice rings here...?

"The classes are mostly optional and dueling. There are few students that dual specialize with weapons. Damien, Brais, Blizzard and myself mostly." Notice she was the only female. She also didn?t mention Ilyona who preferred to keep her activities quiet.

?Ai de mi, you're not serious. The only weapon, and I use the term loosely, I've ever held was a baseball bat.?

"And where my family has residence outside of Rhydin, War and assassins are commonplace."

?War's not uncommon back home, but it's usually far away with lots of people just shooting at each other.?

"We are a lot more up close and personally. One of my trainers was at the Inn the other night when Blizzard was bragging about kicking my arse." She led him into the rings and she went to the sands, "Know something upbeat?"

?I might...? It's a good thing he'd brought his wand, hmm? ?You've never heard one of my performances, have you??

"That one time in the commons. I... just got tired of being the wallflower and everyone fawning on Ivinia." She admitted softly.

?Then it's long past your turn to be the center of attention.?

She moved and stretched in the sands. She winced with the leg but it was bearable. He set things up quickly, his wand on a stand, and pulling over a chair to sit in, retuning his guitar. ?So, what do
you want to hear first??

"Something with a fast beat. Exotic." She mentioned as she moved through the stretches

With a bright grin, he tapped the wand, a stage forming around him. Lights flashing, beat thumping, even a hazy form of a crowd dancing along with. But the spotlight? All for her.

Her form started to sway with the music. It was almost as if she was belly dancing. Her entire form moved in time with the beat and her eyes closed, listening and feeling more. It's nice to have live musical accompaniment, isn't it? She smiled and let herself get lost in the music. An unguarded expression of pleasure on her face. For once she isn't worrying.

While his eyebrows went up in appreciation, he never stopped the music, flowing from one upbeat dance number to another. She just let herself go with the music, not stopping, pushing that injured leg to the limits.

From one song to the next, sweat beading on his brow as he sang, like a miniature concert just for her. She was just like one of those performers on the stage at a show. Keeping time and moving with the music. The practice was good for both of them.

Finally, he brought out something... new. After the fifth song, he put the illusion on
pause, so he could take a drink.

She adjusted the dance to something to match the music a bit more sensual. The smile on her lips and the eyelids hooded. And when he paused she took a bit of a break and moved to sit. Her form glistening with sweat now, ?Hmm, that was good."

?You like?? Surely, somewhere in here, there's water to drink. There was the kegs near the benches and taps.

"Yeah, I like. Works out good." She rubbed at her calf to ease the tension in the muscle a bit. "More productive this way too."

That'll work. He poured a pair of mugs, and brought one over. ?Well, then I'm good for something, si??

"Never said otherwise, Esteban." She smiled and took the mug. "If anything, maybe this will encourage the practicing more." She winked saucily.

?And which kind of practicing? The dancing, or...? He trailed off with a returning wink.

There was a slow smile at that, even though he knew perfectly well what she meant.

?Time for a rest??

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-19 16:03 EST
She nodded a bit, "Yeah. Leg is still giving me problems." she said quietly.

He pondered, contemplated, then bit the bullet and spoke up. ?If you'd like, I could see what my nimble fingers could do for it.?

She took a deep drink of the water and pondered for a moment. "(vq) Yeah, and maybe more?"

Cue the brow quirk and head tilt. ?Only if you want, querida. But first, let's see about that leg, hmm??

She nodded, "See where the night goes, fair enough?"'

?That sounds like a good plan to me.? A wry grin, as he lifted up his mug in a toast.

She smiled back and lifted her mug in mirror, "Maybe it's time I stopped being stupid." She said softly.

That grin just got wider, as he took a seat, moving another next to it, and patting his lap. ?Upsie daisy??

She lifted herself into that chair and placed the leg in his lap. She had been hiding the scars, but they could be felt with fingers. Acid burns. Ah, but here's a nifty little trick he's learned. Everything in creation holds the memory of how things used to be. And most everything is susceptible to a song or two ... Humming softly, he got to kneading. He wasn't kidding about the fingers. Months of guitar training's been good on them.

She closed her eyes and relaxed under that touch. The humming was soothing as well. Beyond that, a soothing warmth spread from the touch, following the directives of his concentration. The eyes hood as she watches him concentrate. Interested and surprised.

He worked for a fairly long time, gently kneading at the scars, and the muscles beneath, the flesh growing more pliant with each passing moment.

She murmured softly, "(vq) Feels better."

He didn't answer, not right away, instead he kept working, until finally, he couldn't help but stop. Even the illusion had faded by that point, and he wiped more sweat from his brow. ?Here, try
that.?

"You didn't have to do that, Esteban." She said quietly, recognizing the signs.

?Pish. It's been too long since I've had the chance to do something helpful, instead of just showing off.?

A hand lightly rests on his arm, "You don't know how helpful this has been. Even just the music."

?Well, good.? He winked, then downed a goodly portion of his water.

She reached over to finish her water as well. "So, did I do alright there?"

?Hmmm? Oh, you mean the dancing? You were great! If I still had a video manager, I'd totally tell him to hire you.?

There was a smile at that, "Have to know for the society functions and stuff like that. But it's always been a good stress reliever.?

?Society functions?? Patting her leg, he moved to stand, so he could refill their waters.

She moved her leg to the ground, "Balls and the like." She said with a look of distaste.

?You know, taken out of context, that statement in that tone could be very discouraging to a guy.? Chuckling, he winked over his shoulder, then brought back full mugs of water.

There was a laugh at that, "No comment..."

?Which in and of itself is a comment.? Winking once again, he took a sip, then pointed with his chin at her leg. ?So, see how it feels.?

She stood briefly and stretched a bit, "Those hands are a miracle, Esteban."

Oh, the things he could say. Most of them are written in that smile, which quivered briefly before he answered. ?I blame the extra guitar work.?

The thoughts had crossed her mind as well. "Oh I wouldn't go that far as to blame it. Still... Think we can do this again?"

?Anytime you'd like. I'm free most afternoons, even if the suite isn't empty. Just knock, and I'll answer.?

She smiled at that, "Do you mind company tonight?" She had been serious earlier.

?I don't mind at all, but we might want to think about somewhere other than the suite...? He looked thoughtful for a moment, then a touch pensive. ?Angel, has anyone told you about Elk??

She paused a moment. "No." She looked at him.

My my, that's a rather vehement stream of Spanish... ?We definitely don't want to chance the suite without knowing ahead of time, then. He's there, sometimes.? He's not trying to hurt her... just keeping up his promise to be straight with her.

She murmur softly in the guttural language she was fluent in. "Some things never change." She closed her eyes to hide that flash of hurt. "I have that wing. Tia has been studying with the
Mastema, and Cinder should be at classes."

?Mmmhmm. And since Poquito's asleep, I can't ask him. So, your wing? I'll bring the dancing music...?

"Yeah, my quarters are large enough and we have the extra amenities for munchie fits." She said quietly.

?That sounds great. And maybe, if you're nice enough to smile, I'll see about putting my fingers to work on those shoulders of yours??

There is a smile to him, "Down payment?"

?A few more of those, and I'll even include the feet.?

She held out a hand to him, "My way?" It was more expedient.

?Oh sure, why not?? Guitar case and wand in one hand, he gently took hers in the other.

She grasped his hand and drew him into a shadow. "Hold on."

?Just don't set me on fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~? The sound of his whine faded into the shadow.

Of course he was about to learn why the prohibition on Shadowwalking was in place. Good thing she was a mage.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-19 23:10 EST
{Red Dragon Inn - St Patrick's Day...}

The shamrock tinsel has been hung with care. The tables glimmered in green and glover center pieces. Bowls (green ones of course) filled with just green M&M's, jelly beans and skittles sat out on each one. A giant inflatable green tankard cooler, filled with Irish beer sat untouched and ready for the night, besparkled with ice and beckoning condensation. Lanterns with shamrocks on them, green glass in front of the torches--boxes of 'Irish-ish' and 'Today I'm Irish!' necklaces were scattered within easy grasp. RIDICULOUS hats, sparkly and green or felt with pretend elf ears were available too.

It was a St. Patty's day massacre. It was glorious. And coming out of the office was another horrible tragedy of green--Risa Jones. "No green beer! No green beer!" She was chanting. "Heeeeeeyoooooooooooooooo! Happy St. Patricks day Red Dragon Inn!" And boogied behind the bar.

Who would've thought it. Pairing blue fur with hunter green, vest and flowing pants. Sometimes, one must bow to convention, it seems. Besides, how better to match the evening's festivities, hmm? Up the steps, and through the door, let's see just what all's in store. ?Well well. Good evening, everyone. Such a festive, party-minded crowd this is ...?

Ilyona had ditched the school uniform in favor of something a bit more casual. Well as casual as she could get.

Oddly enough, there's a pair of hands here not holding a drink. And a tail, but that's a whole other story. ?Excuse me, but did you happen to mention drinks a moment ago? If so, I wouldn't mind one. Or possibly even two ...?

Ilyona tilted her head and looked on into the crowd a bit. She didn't expect many from her house out this eve, if they transversed out at all.

Khoom got a wave and Risa scooted over. "What kind? We got free beer, fantastic selection of Irish and American Irish--and everything else too!"

?Oh, let's make it a real doozy. Surprise me, if you're of a mind to.? Khoom replied to Risa.

"Yay surprisies!" And off she went, bounding like a demented green Irish bunny. Mixes up an Emerald Isle for Khoom, a pretty green martini with creme de menthe and sliiiiiiiids it on over until it stops near by. "Try that out!" Firing off a wave and lifting her glass to everyone at the bar that moment. "May you die in bed at 95, shot by a jealous wife!" And drink!

Marvelous things, tails. Especially when they're capable of plucking sliding martinis from the bar without missing a beat. That way, hands can continue to clap to the tune, while minty martini dances along the tongue.

She moved a bit quietly to the bar and settled down to watch the crowd.

Ah, but what's this? A timid little wallflower? Oh no, that just won't do. ?Hello. I don't believe we've met. Please, call me Khoom. And what, pray tell, might I call you??

Looking at the scrabble of writing on the small piece of paper he carried, Khordan took another glance at the street sign, then looked around the buildings around him. Shrugging, he started off again, checking street names against the directions.

She waved down Risa a bit to get her attention. The Inn was rather crowded. She looked up at Khoom, "I am Ilyona."

?Ilyona. What an interesting name ... May I interest you in a drink? I promise, no biting. Unless of course you like that sort of thing.?

Illyona got a sheepish grin from Risa. "Sorry! I was admiring a fine pair of legs in a kilt!" There were several! "What can I get you?"

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-19 23:12 EST
There was a chuckle at that, "A Guinness, please." She said to Risa. She then smiled at Khoom, "Interesting choice of introductions."

"Guinness!" Hands and arms up in cheer for that and then scuttling off to pour a fine, fine glass of it, thick and creamy foam head perfect and settle it in front of Illyona. "There ya go lassie!"

?Oh, you'd rather engage in the snappy banter? I'm perfectly willing if you are.? Khoom responded in kind.

"What can I say, it was the company that was not there... yet" She paid for the drink with a few coins on the bar.

?I'm always willing to provide company, and most of the time, I'd wager the recipients find it to be the good kind. What brings you down to the Inn on a night like tonight, miss Ilyona??

"The need to get out and explore a bit. And you Khoom?" She did not have anything visible that indicated where she was ducking out from.

?I'm a fan of crowds. The energy, the flow ... Mmmmm, ambrosia.?

There was a shake of her head, "I do not mind... In small doses."

?Oh, but you've no idea ... Here, just a touch.? One hand up, palm down, so she's got a clear view of the fur on the back of that hand. The waving, slightly sparking fur. ?Give it a feel.?

There was a light brush of finger across the fur. "Nice. Magic, Khoom?" She murmured quietly.

?You see, this is what happens when you let a rampaging sensualist loose in a rowdy crowd ... and yes, I do some minor cantrips, here and there. As the whims suit.?

She ran those fingers along the fur again, "I see and I suspect more than just minor Cantrips."

?Mmmmm, possibly. But, those require a certain ... acceptance. A granting of permission, if you will. Until then, nothing more than a cantrip. It's a little moral trifle of mine.?

Finally... Khordan paused in front of the building, listening to the noise from within. Well, the woman at the welcome center said there was some kind of holiday being celebrated. Moving to the door, he let himself enter the flood of light and sound within.

There was an arch of a brow. "Sounds like something that would be frowned upon by certain members of polite society."

?Regrettably, you're quite correct. But then again, what's the business of consenting adults got to do with the rest of mainstream society??

"When one is of... a certain rank, more people tend to place themselves in others business regrettably."

?Take this, just for example.? One finger, pointing at the ceiling. And on that claw, a swirling and darkening of the air ... until what appeared to be a bright pink marble balanced there. ?Rank. What an apt name for it, if my opinion must be known. But you see this? Such a simple thing, really.?

She nodded as she watched. "Indeed."

?Pop it.? Oh, the mischief in those pink-flecked citrine kitty eyes.

There was a suspicious look as a manicured nail went to pop the pink marble. And just like that, pop! From pink marble, to a soft pink mist, spreading out from the tip of the claw.

The eyes hood a bit, "Naughty naughty." She smiled and pushed some blond strands behind a slightly pointed ear.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-19 23:12 EST
?Whenever I can be. But then again ... naughty, nice, it's all semantics, isn't it?? Khoom admitted playfully.

Khordan stood a moment watching the flow of the room before braving forward, heading in a generalized direction of the bar.

She shook her head with a laugh. Then she paused and almost paled as she thought she saw a ghost for a moment there.

One doesn't get this far in these types of incantations without becoming a student of body language. ?Oh my ... is something amiss??

"I thought... I saw someone I knew. but...It can't be."

?Why not? If there's one thing I've learned here, it's that nothing's quite as impossible as one thinks it could be.?

Sliding into a spot at the bar with the hiss of silk robes, Khordan looked to the one who had waved, guessing she was the barkeep. ?Excuse me, could I get a brandy please??

"He? died and refused to move on." She looked at the man that sat at the bar curiously. Now that he was closer, the resemblance was there, but he was not who she thought.

"A bandy, yes you can! Any particular kind you like? Or just plain old fashioned brandy?" Toward the robed fellow.

?Just a plain brandy please.? He smiled a bit at the question, gold glittering between his fingers as he set it to her side for payment and tip.

And no, that's not quite the scent of love in the air ... Less of a need to find Mr./Mrs. Right, and more of a want to find Mr./Mrs. Right now. ?Oh really now. A displaced spirit? And where did you see this individual?? Eye spy ... and of course, there's a waving tail to go with it. ?Rachael. Good evening.?

She tilted her head to the stranger. "Long story as to what happened. Long and painful."

?I don't doubt that. From all I've heard, death is never a happy thing. And how is your night tonight, oh student mine??

Tousled hair bobbed as Khordan nodded his thanks to Risa, ?Thank you.? Taking the glass in hand he brought it up for a long sip, savoring the burn of that first taste.

While Khoom's attention was elsewhere, Ilyona looked at the young man that had entered. She took her Guinness and moved down the bar, almost curious.

Another sip, and he turned to look around the room and those gathered within. A silent mantra being used to keep the worst from giving him a headache.

She slipped onto a stool next to Khordan and placed the Guinness on the bar.

Setting the now-empty glass to the bar he nodded to the blonde one by him. ?Evenin'..,? said cordially

"Good Evening, New to these parts?" She said softly enough.

?Is it that obvious?? A quip before he could really stop himself. ?Yes, just arrived this evening.?

There was the warm smile to that, "Well, the Majority of people are transplants here.?

?Thats what the people at the welcome center told me.? Taking up the glass again, a quick raised salute to Risa and then a sip.

She nodded to that, "From where do you hail?"

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-19 23:16 EST
?Little place called Caer Gaowlron.? Well, perhaps not soooo little, but semantics. Another sip, his glass then set down again. ?I take it you're also one of the transplants??

She tilted her head curiously, "Aye. From Tignus... Taybior."

?Tignus... Island realm...? This was musing aloud, no need to pay attention.

She nodded cautiously at that, "I thought that sounded familiar." She looked at him a bit more carefully. Too many coincidences at once.

?Well, small world, I'd say.? A quirk of a smile, and he saluted her with his glass. ?Khordan...? By way of introduction.

She lifted her glass as well, "Ilyona Albaelia."

Hmm, he'd have to look that name up later in memory. Too loud at the moment. ?Nice to meet you Ilyona.? A sip taken, the empty glass set back down. ?Didn't expect to meet any from home here.?

"Nor I aside from immediate friends and family."

?What brings you out, if I may ask??

"Getting away from school at the moment. And you?"


?Not quite certain just yet. Though I'm guessing the first item of business is going to be finding a place to stay.?

She nodded to that, "This place has rooms for let." She was still watching him cautiously.

?That?s what I was told.? A hand unconsciously patted one of the many pouches, reassurance the folded paper was still there.

She tilted her head, "Pardon my asking, but once you secure lodging?"

?Lessee... get the lay of the land, then see if there are any magi in need of a newly-arrived apprentice.?

"I know of a school for Magi." There was a bit of a smile at that.

?Oh?? That caught his attention, but a thought came. ?I don't have a sponsor though.?

She thought about that a moment, "I can bring your information to the headmistress."

?All right.? He nodded, considering the idea. ?I'll need a day or so to get settled in first though.? Didn't want to move too fast. Just like hunting.

She nodded a bit, "Alright. I can meet you back here in a few days once you are settled."

He nodded in agreement, ?I should be here in the evenings.? Days would be out and about. ?You can tell me more about this school.?

She nodded, "It's focused on all schools of magic. General on up."

?That?s a good thing then.? Bit of a smile, since he had no idea at all what he should be focusing on yet.

She nodded, "Indeed." She then rubbed at her temples with the yelling. "I should return before I am missed."

He nodded again, and held out a hand. ?It was nice to meet you Ilyona.? The name was familiar, he'll ponder it in a bit after getting a room.

She clasped the hand, "The pleasure was mine, Khordan."

He wouldn't kiss the hand. One of his sisters hated it when that was done, so he erred on the side of caution. ?Be safe on the roads tonight.?

"And you as well." She slid from the stool and moved for the door then. There was something she couldn't shake.

He watched for a moment as she strolled away, and then nodded in appreciation. Time to see about that room!

(Big thanks to Khoom, Rachael Wynter, RDI Risa and Khordan. Keep an eye out for further developments )

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-03-20 11:37 EST
Bordom

She'd been bored. bored with classes, bored with the students just bored. There was very little challenge here as any who heard her voice seemed to succumb all to easily. This made her thankful for her chosen favorite, Darkir. He was the only one whom she could not compel and it gave her a thrill. She walked slowly to her next class, Enchantment. Nil'aiha was interesting in that he seemed to be superbly skilled at his art, the very reason he taught, no doubt. Though she had noted how intently he seemed to watch her as of late.

Class went on as usual and she felt she had learned nothing from him she could not do on her own with her own voice, a formidable weapon indeed in it's own right. Class drew to a conclusion and students filed out prattling on about assignments, gossip and the painfully inane. "Almalthia." The smooth voice came from directly behind her. She turned to face the master of enchantment a brow arched in question. She never spoke unless she had to, but her expression was clear. What the hell did he want?

"You seem bored, do you not find enchantment to be challenging?" Her eyes flickered rapidly though a myriad of colors, in the hypnotic way she had before settling on a green so dark as to seem almost black. Contempt was reflected there but she said nothing. "I see." Smooth rounded tones purred to her. "Perhaps you have not understood the finer more subtle aspects. You see, brute force will only get you so far." At this the other brow rose in plain question to him. "Yes, brute force. I know of your...talent and it is like a sledgehammer. You must understand that subtlety can be far more powerful."

A sentiment surely shared by others in this school to be sure. Almalthia frowned, or something akin to it, the expression was surely of displeasure, teeth exposed in a feral grimace. "Do not think I have not been aware of your ...activities. Hunting your fellow students? Tsk. And Sartha? I do not think he appreciates your toying with him. You need to learn refinement." She made a disgusted sound and he frowned, those handsome features hardening." Do not think because you are powerful you are untouchable. Gorgon Horn or no, Siren or no, you are a student." That last spoken firmly and coldly.

finally she replied in her customary whisper. "What want? Clipped as always. "I want you to see me after class. I will teach you to hone the power you possess and the art of manipulation and enchantment you never dreamed." He touched her cheek, a daring and bold move, eyes smoldering heatedly. "I have so much I could teach you." Whispered into her delicately upswept ear. His hand wandered down fingers lightly dragging over the tightly-pressed gills at her throat over her shoulder and down to her waist where it rested.

"Come with me." He murmured.


Curiosity compelled her to do just that.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-20 22:05 EST
Curiosity...

{Lilium Wing - Roommates more than welcomed to join in}

She sat in what passed for a lady's office. The smaller room was connected to her sleeping quarters and off of the main suite of room that comprised the Lilium Wing. the door sat open while she busied herself with her personal business.

She considered the care package before her. A weekly update to Morg about her progress at the school, a raunchy missive detailing Kar's latest conquests, a gentle admonishment from Kit about taking care while away from home and yet another spell-book from Molly encouraging her lessons. You would think with the bookmarked pages, Molly was encouraging her to try her hand at Evocation. Even nanny sent some of her favored treats and there was a rather gruesome drawing from her little sister.

... She shook her head at the prospect of the budding psychotic in the house.

She paused a moment to look at an image that sat on her desk. It was from a time in the not so distant past. A time of great danger, and yet her happiest moment.

So brief and yet the pain welled up again. All because of seeing that familiar face in Khordan.

"Who are you, Khordan? What brings you to this land now?" She spoke softly and looked up at the stirring shadow. "Did you know him, Onyx?"

There was a shifting in the shadows, but she could not tell what it meant. Even in this form, he kept his secrets well hidden.

"You knew more about me, than I you, my love. I just hope this is not more trouble." She said softly.

The shadow shifted and a tendril reached out to touch her cheek lightly. She closed her eyes and a tear drifted loose. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired of holding it in. Seeing this man brought it home again. Too many coincidences for my comfort."

She wiped the tear and looked longingly at the care package. "I missed them all even the little terror." She felt the wave of homesickness fully.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-03-21 10:10 EST
{Lilium Wing}

Gotha was making his way through the main quarters when he caught sight of the elegant blonde at her desk. He had no patience for a sign of weakness of any kind and at the sight of her tears expected to feel the usual disgust such a response would create; yet, there was something tragic and sad about her despair glossed by such beauty.

He lingered for a moment, observing curiously as she spoke to the shadows; unlike most places where such an activity could be construed as madness, here at the IAP where magic ran rampant the explanations were vast. He, himself, had an unseen servant who followed him to all of his classes, carrying his things and clearing the way. A servant that would manifest certain lethal talents should he have need of them.

Of course, the wicked blade clasped to his hip warned that he was not above other means of protection should he have need of it. His late night excursions into the training arenas had been interrupted by the daughter of the headmistress. From the darkness he had observed her work and was impressed by the dedication she exhibited.

He'd been needing to work off some of the tensed frustration of his last encounter with one of his other roommates. Her dismissiveness had inspired him to ignore her existence until Nemese Pausanias had seen fit to invite her into his chosen House.

His scaly fist clenched around the hilt of his blade. He was growing restless. Not a good trait for one of his kind. Striding into his own personal suite he unbelted the scabbard and hung it in its customary place: his room reflecting his temperament, rigidly ordered. Folding his lean frame upon the mat that served as his bed he chose the circular runes of his people and immersed himself in the latest report from back home.

Another Illithid compound had been discovered and a raid was being planned. A raid he itched to be a part of; To kill another dozen illithids would make sitting through a certain teacher's class more palatable.

His grin was feral.

http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFlp2NGM4OE5UNEJHdExPUmFmb0VlNFEAAAACaWQKAXgAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-03-23 16:56 EST
{In the Hall - Between Classes}

?Wait a minute.? Blizzard said, his eyes narrowing slightly. ?What did you say??

Felix stood just a few steps away, arms folded across his chest in condescending regard of the Novice. Nostrils flared as he watched Blizzard, though beyond that there was no expressive movement. ?You heard me. Xera is a whore.?

The relationship that Blizzard and Ozzie shared with the Azer beauty was no secret, and as the students who moved through the hall where the two conversed became savvy to the exchange they gave notice; their steps slowing, their attention gained, subconsciously crafting a perfect circle around them.

While angered, there was also a flash of confusion in Blizzard?s shadowed gaze. Felix had been a friend of sorts recently, even going so far as to aid him in his studies, and yet here he stood verbally lashing out at someone Blizzard cared deeply for. They had all studied together, Xera included, which made Felix?s startling outburst even more surprising. ?What the hell, man? What are you talking about??

?I?m certain that I did not stutter. She is a whore and a tease.?

Blizzard drew in a deep breath and lifted his chin so that closed eyes could stare at the ceiling. He was trying to calm himself, to ignore the swelling fury that ignited in his chest. He wanted to handle the situation rationally and not resort to habits that he had defied for so long. ?Felix, I don?t know what your deal is, but you need to shut your mouth. Xera?s never been anything but nice to you. I don?t know why you?re coming at me like this, but it?s not cool.?

?Not cool?? Felix scoffed, those stoic features flashing into a brief sneer. He unfolded his arms to dangle at his sides, his uniform showing no sign of wrinkle or crease. ?She makes it a habit to occupy the laps of any man she comes across, using her ignorance as a reason to excite. Harlots everywhere envy her success.?

Fingers curled into fists, whitening knuckles almost instantly. Blizzard lowered his head and opened his eyes, leveling them upon the stare of his antagonist. He took a step toward Felix. ?I?m done listening to you.? Blizzard growled. ?You need to leave before this gets ugly.?

?I?m not sure that it can get much uglier than an addlebrained Neophyte defending the reputation of his worthless slattern c*mdump.?

The strike was reactionary as Blizzard?s eyes went red with rage. He lashed out with a hard right cross; a punch that had leveled more than a dozen sparing partners and pugilist opponents with. Felix seemed unaware as it was thrown, his cheek the recipient of this violent collision.

Bone broke.

Yet not the bone intended.

Blizzard recoiled and spun about as he dropped to a knee, clutching his right hand through a slew of groans. Pain surged up his arm, numbing it, and three of his four knuckles no longer pressed against his flesh, flattened?shattered. Those wreathing the two erupted into chitters and sniggers, though quickly quieted their twitters to continue watching.

?What a simple little man you are, Blizzard Vaughn.? Felix said with a smirk, his chiseled visage unbothered by the blow. ?Nearly the end of the semester and it still escapes you that you attend an Institute of Arcana. While I?m sure in your former ruffian existence such actions were quite suitable and expected, here, among the more civilized, we use a completely different set of ingenuity.?

Magic washed through Blizzard in a wave, clutching him through the inside. He rolled back, both hands ? one pristine and the other broken ? tearing at his chest as though searching for a way in.

?Do you feel that?? Felix said as he moved to loom above Blizzard. ?I have your heart. I have it right now within my grasp, and with but a single thought I could crush it and end your miserable, feebleminded life. I?m sure the Mastema would award me with praise for ridding his School of your worthlessness, and Ashriel as well for depleting Stormsabre of one of its members, no matter how insignificant.?

Blizzard writhed, holding himself across the chest, rolling from side to side. He tried to talk, tried to curse, but all that came out was strained sounds of hushed agony.

?It makes sense, though.? Felix expanded, a step forward starting a tight and languid circle around the prone Abjurist. ?Stormsabre?s interest in you, that is. You are an ignoble caster. A prosaic inept whose only saving grace is the attention he receives from his quasi-harem. Like Stormsabre, you are a charade, an insult to what this Institution represents as you meddle in the affairs of wizards and houses much grander than your own-ahk!?

Felix?s eyes went wide and his hands grasped at his own throat, fingers clenching as if trying to peel away the strain of a vise. Wheezing for breath, panic filled his normally emotionless gaze. Lifted upward, he left the ground until only the toes of his boots scraped the smooth hallway floor. Slowly he began to turn.

As though the second hand of a clockface, the Apprentice Conjurer ticked a spiraling path, ending once he was face to face with the caster of the spell.

?Ba?.? Felix breathed with painful labor. ??Brais?!?

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-03-23 17:00 EST
{Part Two}


Brais stood before the rotating, hovering, Felix, with dark eyes narrowed in fierce severity. His left hand was outstretched, clutching the air, keeping the apprentice afloat. Never once did he glance toward the recumbent Blizzard, who, with Felix?s sudden peril, was released from the grasp of his spell.

?Ironically, I was not disagreeing with your assessment of this particular Novice.? Brais said, the hard lines of his visage glacial in regard of his quarry. ?However, when you extended your verbal slander to that of House Stormsabre, a house that I am part of and my muse oversees, you crossed a line.?

The reply from Felix was not words, but sound. Straining, barren, sound. His chest labored for the small slivers of breath that snuck through his clenched throat, and still his hands raked across his throat in desperation.

The distance between captor and captive dissolved as Brais moved to stare him harshly in the eye. ?This little scene is over, Apprentice Foster.?

Felix didn?t blink, locked within the dark gaze of the Mage before him. He nodded, a jerky motion that quickly sped into a rapid up and down, sending his glasses falling to the floor.

?Good.? Brais answered, loosening the hold his hand had upon the air, and with it releasing Felix from the spell.

Felix fell to the ground, instantly slumping to his hands and knees. Coughing and wheezing, he hungrily consumed air inside lungs starved for breath.

?There are classes to be attended.? Brais snapped as he turned a hard look over his shoulder, instantly dispersing those gathered into a contrasting wave of motion to the sound of whispers and murmurs. Slowly he looked back at Felix. ?You, as well, should see to your schedule and get moving.?

Finally, when there was a sense of ease that overcame the panic his asphyxiation conjured, Felix gradually looked up to review the feet of all those wandering around him as they moved away. He could hear their whispers, their snickers, and instantly his gut clenched. He was not supposed to be on the receiving end of such ridicule. It was supposed to be another.

He turned to Blizzard, who was just now starting to make his way to his feet, with a threatening growl. He was supposed to be the one being laughed at. Not Felix. He would make sure that the novice paid for this unforeseen turn of events. Felix drew his feet beneath him and reached for the glasses laying just a few feet away.

Brais? boot arrived first.

To eyeglass wearers everywhere, there is a haunting dread that comes along with the crunch of frames and lenses, as though a small piece of the soul is being murdered. The blurry survey of Brais? boot lasted for but a moment before slowly his gaze inclined upward until finding the distant haze of dark spheres looking back.

?Those glasses will do you no good, Apprentice.? Brais? voice was cold and even. ?They?ve done nothing to help with your vision thus far.?

Felix drew upward until he was standing fully, eye to eye with Mage Galician. Locked gazes lasted in silence until finally Felix turned on a heel and started away. He would have cast one final glower at Blizzard, though the effects of his stigmatism made locating him nearly impossible.

Blizzard slowly took to his feet, clutching his hand to his chest and wincing with every movement and motion. He had had broken bones before and knew how to recognize them ? his knuckles were surely smashed.

?Thanks, man.? Blizzard said as he watched Felix?s back fade into the distant swarm of students. ?I was really-? Words were cut short as he turned back to Brais only to find the Mage standing an inch away, his eyes narrowed and lips tight.

?You are an embarrassment to this House, this Institute, and yourself. While the females of this school may be impressed with your physical prowess, as Apprentice Foster demonstrated, here they are virtually worthless.? Dark eyes narrowed a bit more dangerously. ?Become a better wizard. Become a better wizard, or get out.?

Blizzard parted his lips to reply, though before he could the Mage turned and started away. His stride was strong and militant, as though he walked with a purpose. Blizzard watched until Brais vanished around a corner, still holding his injured hand. He?d have to head to the Infirmary to get it taken care of.

And then he might hit the books.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-03-23 22:24 EST


Felix was pouting.

Then again, it seemed to Bryn that gentlemen of extraordinary egos, such as Felix, tended to suffer more under the sting of insult than others, so it came as no surprise. Word of the day?s incident with Stormsabre had travelled quickly through the school, and while she was naturally mistrustful of much-exchanged gossip, she knew, upon catching sight of his violent glower, that the severity of the incident hadn?t been exaggerated.

She leaned down to retrieve her jacket from the floor of the empty classroom, one fair hand holding closed her blouse, which was now tragically in need of a fresh set of buttons.

It seemed the primary victim of Felix?s frustrations was her wardrobe.

Well, that and her ***, but, in Bryn?s mind, the torn clothing was certainly the greater annoyance. She?d be a little sore tomorrow, no doubt, but it would probably be a week before she?d have enough idle time to have her uniform mended.

?F---ing Blizzard,? he spat darkly, from his languid perch on the instructor?s desk. In no evident rush, he stared blankly at the far wall, mostly ignoring the half-naked necromancer as she donned her ruined clothing and set to smoothing her chocolate-hued locks.

?You think he?s hot, Bryn?? Felix inquired aggressively, as if daring her to answer the affirmative.

Bryn perceived the nuanced implications of the question and the expectations placed on her reply. She didn?t care. She answered serenely, a smile settled on her plush, fatigued mouth: ?Yes, of course!?

With features twisting in exasperation, Felix slipped off the desk and stalked toward the door of the classroom, not pausing to issue the tense snap: ?Get him to fuck you then.?

The door slammed, but Bryn?s blissful facade endured.

He?d be back.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-03-24 23:25 EST
Confessions

Like it's a summons, the soft yet swift tread down the hallway announced Kish's imminent arrival. That, and the brief flurry of
snowflakes. She brightened as she saw Kish entering the commons.
Damien stood and there was a chuckle as he saw Kish. Angel had told him about their team and Kish had earned his respect on several levels.
Saphira rose from her icy chair and walked toward him with the beginning of the waddle sure to come to embrace him eagerly, mist
swirling up around them both for a moment. "How was class?" Kissing him briefly. "Hi Damien!" At least he got that off before returning the kiss with youthful enthusiasm. "Class was soooo booooring! It was all about earth elementalism today, and I really don't have any talent for that. How about you? How are you feeling?" As he spoke, he looked
around for a chair. With the burden she's carrying, he didn't want her walking too awful far.

"Hey Kish." Damien greeted in return.There was a chuckle at them kissing and he headed off. Saphira waved goodbye to Damien as he left before answering. "Fine, fine." Gesturing and forming a chair of ice for him and offering it with a smile. I" had fire today...
Kish went wide-eyed for a moment, before gesturing that she should sit. "Fire. Ugh. No offense, but fire and I, we don't mix
well. Sit, sit... you don't need to be up and around so much. Can I get you anything? Tea, a snack, maybe a snowcone?"
She winked. "What I want can wait til we're in private. And I promise I won't break from walking around." Though she obliged and
sat down to humor him. "But I did want to speak with you, about something Master Menolymus said to me today"

Ah, the energy of the young... With a wide grin, he hooked the leg of a nearby chair and pulled it over, flopping down into it
rather bonelessly. " I guess it's a good thing I napped earlier then, isn't it? And what did he say?"
"It is" she quipped back grinning before turning more serious. "He dislikes my aversion to regular fire despite my ability to work with it. Said my fear
for such talent was disgusting and that if I was to be truly great I must face the past and why I hate it so much." Here she fixed him with a stare
"Oooookay... so how do you plan on doing that?"
"I thought I might show you something I have never shown anyone before." A little self consciously.

"Show me what? I think by now I've seen just about every inch of you I could possibly see without being very tiny. Not that I'm
complaining! I like being able to review my explorations!"
"Not even Mystri has seen this." Taking a breath, a little shakily and smiling at his comment. "Why don't we take this to my room
then? It's a rather...delicate subject."

Kish gave her a bit of a look but acquiesced. "Oookay..." Curiosity gleamed in his eyes as he stood, offering his hands to help her up.
She took his hand with a smile and kissed him all while opening a portal to her converted shed and urging him to come through with her. "Come on, and I hope you aren't shocked..Do you know why I have fur? He was following closely, still feeling flushed from the kiss, he had to think a moment before he responded. "'Cause you like fur?"
She paused and turned to face him as she arrived in her familiar and comforting old room. "I like what it does for me. Though I do think it's pretty, that isn't the reason why."

Nodding, Kish looked thoughtful as he flopped down onto the bed. "Alright... so why do you have fur?" "When I was young, I lived in a cage on display in a town of humans.There was a group of boys who set fire to it one day..with me inside." She began stripping her uniform off, letting it fall to the floor in a heap as she kept her gaze steady on him. "I was terrified of fire after that, and burned very, very badly." Here she took a deep breath and her fur rippled as if blown by a breeze and absorbed into her flesh. Ninety percent of her body was covered in severe burn scars. "I use my fur to hide in plain sight..." Whispering, as she waited for him to react. She was afraid he might turn away in revulsion, the scars were horrible. For a moment, all he could do was blink. When he finally found his voice again, there's an edge there that he probably shouldn't have had for years. "And what happened to them?" But no, he didn't turn away. It wasn't revulsion that shined in his eyes. But it did lurk dangerously close to a thirst for vengeance.
"Nothing. It was nothing to them or anyone else." She said softly. "Nobody cared if I lived or died, the only reason I was even caged is I failed to die after they slit my throat when I was three." That was the one scar she had never hidden. I" was reviled as a monster, and that's what they did to monsters."

"And where is this town now... ?" His jaw clenched tight and he pondered various retributions, but the one thing he could do, right here and right now, he did. He sat up, and he reached for her.
"Far from here, past the southern mountains range of Tii'naian Fer." Allowing him to touch her, she even stepped forward, though a bit shyly, as she was ashamed of her body, and it was all she could do not to cover it again in fur. As he kept a hold of her hand, he filed that information away, and stood with a smile softening his jawline. " Do you know what
it is that I see?" "What do you see?" Softly, bringing her gaze back up to meet his."A very beautiful mother-to-be" And he meant that very thing, as he tipped his head down to kiss her. He spent the rest of the night convincing her to forget her scars at least for now. and when they finally slept, she had a newfound peace.

(Thanks to Esteban Mun for playing Kish for me and Damien since your exit coincided with our start)

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-03-25 20:16 EST
Unexpected Guest
{Laurus Wing}

Relaxed, she closed her eyes and let the warmth of her bath soothe her. Mos'em had given her his blessing on her final conjuration project. She'd finally made some serious headway in the gaping hole left in her studies by her unexpected death.

The door to the bathing suite opened and she smiled, lifting her voice in excitement, "I've been waiting for you!" Sitting up she let the water sluice off of her shoulders, the sleek length of her heavy hair draping her slender back. The tub was much too big for her slight elven body and she had purposefully not filled it very deep, but if Damien were to join her he might require more. Fiddling with the elaborate and antiquated nozzle she continued, "Guess who finally completed a section of conjuration?"

As the steaming water cascaded into the water she turned toward the new arrival, expecting the welcomed sight of her love, and instead found another. She gasped in shock, "Grant!"

He smiled, charmingly, a hand held before him in appeasement, "Vliss!" He playfully echoed.

"Grant what are you doing in here?" Sinking beneath the water she wished now that she'd thought to fill it with bubbles, the glimpses of her golden skin only dappling prettily and concealing nothing. "Get out!"

"I thought I heard you call out," He frowned, a perfect puckering of his brow, confusion swimming in his gleaming eyes, "And when I came in you were talking with me... I thought." Realization bloomed and he affected an air of the startled, "Oh! Oh my! I'm so sorry Vliss! I---. Forgive me."

Quickly he departed as if deeply embarrassed by the 'misunderstanding.'

Vliss sent a fleeting glance after him and hugged herself. Had she overreacted?

Outside the door, Grant smiled deviously in the direction of Iameth, before making his way to his bedroom. He'd let her come to him.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-03-25 20:33 EST
{Laurus Wing}

It was not long after the incident that he was indeed returning - A few moments truly. The innuendos passed between him and Saphira had been running about the young demon's mind.

There was one thing the three sides could agree on... She was his. Getting there was proving the issue. With the addition of the remnants of the Nycaloth, the urge to claim her was stronger than ever. Coupled with the fact he did not trust their other roommates, that urge was growing and taking shape.

The part of him that balked at that thought was the young man brought up to respect and cherish those he cared about. He knew his mother would never forgive him should he go down that path. That thought was enough to give all three entities pause.

He reached out with his sense and found her within the bathing chamber. There was a bit of a smile to himself as he stepped through the shadow into the room. The smile faded as he found her there.

"(Vq) Vliss?" Came that concerned rumble.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-03-27 11:58 EST
{The Infirmary}

Blizzard?s hand was throbbing.

He tried to focus on something else but the bland hue of the four drawn curtains that formed his medical suit were uninspiring at best, and the gurney he sat on was nothing but a thin mattress and cold steel. He wasn?t surprised to be so anxious. He hated hospitals, and even more so, he hated the Infirmary.

While growing up he and his father never went to any sort of Hospice, instead choosing the deal with injuries in their own way. His mother was an herbalist and used her talents to make salves and ointments that were excellent for mending torn flesh or broken bones. How he wished he had some of her recipes.

He had only met Mistress Evahlys once, and while she did prove to be ultimately caring, her icy demeanor gave him the chills. It wasn?t anything personal against her but he didn?t like medical wards to start with, and with her running the show it seemed even more desolate and clinical.

A hand slithered inside the curtain and drew it back sharply. Blizzard glanced up, ready to get the treatment over and return to the normalcy of his day.

He was expecting Evahlys, but instead he found Ashriel.

Tall, the Sorcerer ducked as he stepped in and closed the curtain behind him. He wore his uniform beneath his standardized lab coat, long silvery tresses whipping softly about his face and shoulders with every move. Through the ivory hood were a pair of sterling eyes that glanced back and forth between the patient and the chart he held in his hand. ?Novitiate Vaughn.? He greeted, his voice an even staccato of stoicism and empathy. ?Looks like you?ve been busy.?

The strong line of Blizzard?s masculine shoulders slumped as he gripped the edge of the gurney; a chuckle finding its way passed tightly pursed lips as he realized the irony: Ashriel, the overseer of House Viperfang, was going to help mend the hand he broke trying to bash in the face of Felix, a member of House Viperfang. How fitting.

?Yea.? Blizz nodded. ?Clumsy me.?

?Clumsy?? Ashriel closed the distance between them and tossed the chart onto the bed beside Blizzard. ?Did you trip and accidentally throw the punch??

Blizzard smirked as Ashriel took his hand and lifted it to examine the wound. He winced, though only with his eyes, which did not part from the Sorcerer?s gaze. ?No, I tripped and accidently thought someone was a friend.?

Silver eyes searched the swollen area of Blizzard?s hand, yet paused upon hearing him. He looked up, though did not match the sardonic smirk adorned to the Novitiate?s visage. His features were tight and sharp. ?Sounds like you should be more wary of who you trust.?

?I couldn?t have said it better myself.? Blizzard glanced at his hand. ?Can you do something about this? I?m sure you have more important patients to take care of than me.?

Ashriel clenched his finger and thumb, pressing against the swollen area on the inside of Blizzard?s hand, causing the Novitiate to tense and grimace. Blizzard didn?t make a sound, though. He wouldn?t let the Sorcerer hear any groan of pain.

Finally Ashriel released the hold and took up the chart once again. He looked over the paperwork, flipping the pages over the top. ?We?ll get a cast on it.?

?Wait, what?? Blizzard sputtered. ?Can?t you heal it with your mojo or whatever??

?Mojo?? Ashriel smirked, turning to head back toward the curtain he had come through. ?My healing talents are reserved for only the direst of situations, which your broken hand falls short of.?

?Wait a minute, if I have my hand in a cast how am I going to cast? Some of these spells take some pretty fancy finger work.?

Ashriel drew the curtain open and stepped through, holding it ajar as he turned and looked back. ?Quite the predicament you are in, Novitiate. As a word of advice, in the future I would recommend being less clumsy.?

Before Blizzard could fire back, the curtain closed.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-03-27 23:19 EST
Prenatal care and the surprise of a...pair?!?

(Takes place before last post, sorry for order issue)

She rose early, and dressed herself quickly binding her hair into the customary long white rope. Lune was sleeping on his favorite perch when she left her room. She wound her way down the labyrinthine corridors of the school, by now intimately familiar with them. Few students were up yet as it was before classes were starting, though there was the occasional early bird. She made her way to the infirmary and knocked on the open door to be greeted by Evahlys.

"Come on in, Saphira, I will be right with you." She was doing some early morning cleaning and apparently there were some supplies left out from some unfortunate student who had required a cast. "Just putting a few things away. I leave the infirmary for five minutes it seems and come back to things out of order." She clucked her tongue, though she was obviously not that upset. "Now then, have a seat won't you? Up on the table dear." Saphira didn't really know what to say so she just took a seat on the exam table.

"Now then, lets see what it is we're looking at." She finished up her straightening and stepped closer to the wolf-girl. Saphira finally screwed up her courage. "What exactly are you going to do?" A little unsure of this. "Not to worry we're just going to check on the baby and make sure it's healthy." Evahlys wasted no time in placing her hands on Saphira's rounded tummy and became very still deep in concentration. The Mistress of healing looked a little surprised and then smiled widely. "Well, now."

"What?" Saphira's tone was a little apprehensive. "Nothing to worry about, the girls are healthy as they can be." "What??" Saphira's face paled. "Girls?" Her voice quavered. "Twins." Evahlys confirmed. "Healthy and strong girls. I want to see you back next week to check up on you. Seeing as the nature of your pregnancy is no secret and you carry the magic-eater's offspring I will take no chances. There are no recorded incidences of Denubae gestation cycles and I want to monitor you closely." Her tone was brisk.

Saphira nodded and slid down to her feet, trembling still from the news. Twins. Twins. How would she deal with this? Evahlys noticed her trembling and that she was still pale. She waved at one of her assistants. "Go and fetch Kish would you? I want him to escort Miss Saphira here to get something to eat, She's a bit shaken up. Saphira, sit back down until your boyfriend gets here." It wasn't a questiong but a gentle command. She sat obidiently and waited. When Kish arrived Evahlys smiled at him. "Ah, excellent. I want you to escort Miss Saphira to get some breakfast."

Leaving it to the wolf-girl to tell him the news when she saw fit. "Yes, Mistress." He agreed. "C'mon, Saph. Lets get something to eat." He gently took her elbow and helped her up, escorting her out.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-28 20:27 EST
Conspiracies and Distractions...
As is typical for a Sunday afternoon, the Bard felt a bit lazy. Reclining on the couch, a book in hand, and sporting a comfortable pair of black sweat pants. As he read, he hummed softly. A Bard's life was never without some form of music, and he'd had a lot of relaxing time these past couple days.

She moved through the shadows after seeing Fluer and Quillyan safely to their quarters. The night had been a miserable one and she felt for sure she had messed up again. Yet, she could not waste time on worrying about it. She had to think and find a time to corner Ilyona and Daniel about what she heard... Or her Uncle Lusipher. The path took her to Esteban's chambers though. She was trying to not be a cling-on as it were though she missed his company. She bit her lip and knocked on the door to the wing. She had resolved not to be a pest, but circumstances drove her to someone she could trust. She had started a bond with Quillyan that night, but she could not involve the girl.

The knock roused him from the book. ?Door's open! C'mon in!? He wasn't worried about his attire. If someone was coming to see him, they could deal.

She breezed in a bit. She was not in the least bothered... at least not in a bad way. She thought he was hot and this was a reminder. "Hey, Esteban."

?Oh, buenos tardes, Angel. What's up??

There was a bit of a frown on her face, "Tried getting out to the Inn for a drink, bad idea that." She sighed softly, "On top it a confrontation with Elk and another involving Fluer and Elk about her sister..." She shook her head, "And It seems trouble is looking for my family again."

?Oh really now. Come, have a seat, and tell me about it.? Sitting up, he set the book aside, and patted the open cushion of the couch.

She moved over to the couch and settled next to him. "Other than feeling like the fool concerning Elk..." She ran her hands through that salt and pepper mane. "There was two people in the Inn tonight... I did not catch what they were talking about fully, but there was a reference to the Albaelia?s, a mouse, a Long eared elf and a shadow."

Up went his brow, ?Makes me wish I knew what most of those were.?

She nodded as she continued, "Well, the Albaelia's are Ilyona's family. You know the novice rooming with the Gith and the Siren?"

?Oh yeah. I think I met her, at this little bar downtown one night. Kind of reserved, if memory serves me right.? He shifted, propping a leg up on the arm of the couch, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"Her family is rumored to be insane. Those close enough to know, know it to be a mask." She looked thoughtful, "The Shadow could be my mother or it could be my aunt Fiona."

?Insane, eh? She didn't show it that night... though she did appreciate the wine.?

"She's nobility, Esteban. Her family is highly placed and close to the throne in Tybior." She chuckled explaining a bit.

?Sorry, querida. The only royalty I've ever heard anything about is all the junk coming down out of Britain.? He shrugged. ?Well, since getting a drink in the Inn was a bad idea, how about one here??

She smiled at him, "Oh please? I could use one. That talk has me worried. I know who the long eared elf is though the mouse is the only piece of this puzzle I don't have."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-28 20:28 EST
He nodded, standing. ?Well, I've got tequila, cerveza, and maybe some wine around somewhere.?

"Tequila... " She shook her head trying to clear the upset.

?Sounds good to me. Give me just a second... on ice, or straight in the glass??

"Straight up."

He smiled. That certainly made things easier. With a wink, he stepped off to his room, and soon brought out a bottle and a pair of tall glasses. Setting the glasses down, he unscrewed the top of the bottle, and started pouring.

There was a grateful smile at that, "This is appreciated, Esteban. You know how I told you war and assassination were the norms back home? Looking like it's cropping up again."

?Sounds like an ugly business, if you ask me. And coming from someone in the music industry, that's saying something.?

She arched a brow at that, "Let's see, a Duke gave a grave insult to my Aunt. So my Uncle decided to take him to task for it. Thus war... This duke has decided to place bounties on my cousins. Danny is wanted dead or alive... Cie... alive." The implications are there

Recapping the bottle, he looked quite a bit apprehensive. ?That definitely sounds like a bad day in the making.?

"Plenty bad... My Aunt killed the last batch of hunters after Danny and Cie. Still hasn't deterred them."

He just shook his head, and downed some of his drink. ?Your aunt sounds like she'd be right at home in the mafia.?

There was a chuckle at that, "Fuedal warlords more like. She is a high-ranking Shadow assassin. My family is not simple by any means."

?I'm gathering that. Don't mean to offend, but I think I'm going to try and stay on your good side. Just in case. ? That wink should let her know he's just teasing her a little.

She was that smile, "Now see, I knew you were a smart man." She teased back. She relaxed a bit. "I'm glad you are here. It helps."

?I wouldn't say smart, as much as wanting to keep up this singing career without posthumous award ceremonies.? A smirk flickered across his face, before he drank more. ?Don't forget your drink...?

She took up the drink and took a long pull on it. She needed the distraction to think a bit. The glass was grasped between her hands. "I promised myself not to be a pest, yet it seems life is conspiring to make me a liar."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-28 20:29 EST
?I think I should be the judge as to whether or not you're being a pest.? Carefully, he aimed an elbow to give her a nudge. ?Besides, you've got quite a lovely voice, when you let it loose.

There was a nudge back, "Oh, but you are the Maestro there, Esteban."

?I try.? Chuckling again, he downed the rest of his drink, and reached for the bottle.

She tilted the glass back a bit savoring the liquor. "And you succeed wonderfully, handsome."

Kicking his feet up, he propped one arm behind his head, holding up the full glass with a smile. ?Handsome, eh?? Magazine pose, anyone?

She chuckled and set aside the glass. She moved forward almost stalking him on that couch. "Aye, and you well know it."

He didn't move, much. Instead, he just smiled wider. But, being a semi-intelligent personage of the male gender, he did take the precaution of setting his glass on the end table. ?Maybe I do, and maybe I don't.?

There was a soft chuckle as they were almost nose to nose. The stressors of the evening pushed aside. "Or maybe you accept the attention as part of life and do not worry about it."

Humming a soft little ditty, he made sure the door was closed, and firmly locked, before he tilted his head up and playfully nipped at her nose. ?Now why would I worry about attention? I'm a pop star back home, remember??

"Aye, a Celebrity in your own right. So why here?" She moved into nuzzle lightly before looking into his eyes. She was curious to know more.

Seemingly of their own accord, his hands lifted to run up her sides, as he looked upward thoughtfully. ?Well, sometimes, with the more energetic crowds, I'd feel this... power. Some pretty weird stuff happened after that. So, I came here to see what I could make of it.?

There was a slight tilted of her head, "The Magic revealing itself. You are very talented, Esteban." The way she breathed his name was as much a caress as the light drifting of her lips on his.

Sometimes, sweat pants were a curse... other times, probably like this one, they were a handy way to cut to the chase. ?Me alegra mucho que pensando as?, magn?fica. So, what talents would you like me to utilize tonight, hmm??

She murmured softly, "(vq) Was there something you wanted to show me d'ssinnss?" She reverted to the language of the dark elves, lover...

?Mmmmm... I'm sure I could think of something... Did you want to dance again?? Gently, his fingers were kneading at her biceps and shoulders. Just little reminders, perhaps.

"Hmm, did you want to watch? Or Dance together?" Her voice was a soft purr as those muscles started relaxing a bit.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-03-28 20:39 EST
?I'd had a thought of... a duet.? Oh, that grin.

"I'm sure you had. The last duet... was beyond description."

?This one involved a bit more singing, actually.? Softly, he started crooning a tune, reaching for his wand to let the illusion surround them.

She pressed just a bit closer. "Lead on, Maestro."

Indeed, he already was, the music building as he drew her up off the couch, all ready to lead her around in a slow, intimate dance as they sang. She allowed herself to be drawn up with him, pressing close in that slow dance. Little pleasures made a difference to her.

The melodic illusion swirled around them, hiding them from the rest of the world, cues for her lines flashing before her eyes like an advanced form of karaoke. Once the song finished, she'd find him behind her, his arms trailing down hers to gently hold her wrists. ?You like??

She moved with him, singing as she was queued. When the song ended she pressed back against him, "Umhmm. Very much so."

?I'm very glad to hear that...? And look, he's in the perfect position to nip teeth just behind her ear.

There was a soft little sound with that nip. Oh look at that positioning, a little wiggle just right... there.

Her reward was a throaty groan, right in her ear. ?I don't think we're going to get much in the way of practice done, if we keep this up...? Unless, of course, that was the kind of practice she had in mind. ?Would I be too forward to suggest retiring into that room over there?? Of course, he meant his room. Soundproofed, and equipped with enough music to hide just about any sort of noise.

She purred her answer, "Yes, I think that is a grand idea." Privacy was a good thing, a very good thing.

Just because it wouldn't do to leave clues, he grabbed his wand, stuck that in the waistband of his sweats, then picked up the glasses and bottle with a wink. ?Shall we??

There was a saucy wink at that. No clues but plenty of fun. She made for the room. "But of course."

Of course, what would happen behind that closing door, it's the stuff of legend. Okay, more hearsay then legend...



(Kudos and Cast of Characters:
Esteban Velasquez

For the scene just prior to this:
Fleur Rosseau
Quillyan Daewen
Elkinid'qualn Teken'irrt
Maerissa LaeAnna Drakonis

The Plotters adding to the SL (See Baiting the Perfect Mouse Trap:
Isabella Dawnshadow
Audric Faenall

Thanks to you all!)

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-03-28 21:39 EST
Her body felt good beneath his hands, and his lips. In the dark he explored the length of her spine with a series of lingering kisses. Starting at the narrow width of her waist, Uziya patiently climbed her body, the tangible silhouette of her vertebrae a fitting guide. Long, soft hair swept across her skin, a soothing precursor to the touch of his mouth. It was a game they played often, and one they both enjoyed equally.

Upon her return from the trials of Barud Das, Tiatari was exhausted, which was not unusual. She was hesitant to share the mysteries that occurred inside the towers of the Mastema, though assured Uziya that in the end they would be well worth the hardship. One of those bounties was the fatigue that infected the Primorious Discipulus, from the tips of her fingers down to her toes. To make up for this stress Uziya liked to see her asleep with an audible enchantment that brought the subtle sounds of waves crashing against the shore, which was a tranquil soundtrack for the embrace of his affection along her back.

Naked, she laid beneath his splayed thighs as he straddled her pert backside, looming above with hands on each side of her head, flexing and straining muscle to lower and rise with passionate deliverance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uziya moved through the halls with an eager pace, the walk of someone on a mission. He had awoken early and left Tia to sleep, sneaking out well before the sun had risen. He wanted to see Mistress LaCroix to distill this tension between them and knew that she would be in her room. She told him once that she used the waning hours of the night to prepare the next day?s class, and since she was a vampire this did not interrupt any sort of need for sleep or rest. He knew that she would be in her classroom and intended to speak to her alone.

The tension between them had grown, and it was getting harder and harder for Uziya to deny the arousal that she was stirring inside. He loved Tiatari, regardless of whether or not she would admit the same to him, and while the flirtation between teacher and student was taboo and exhilarating, he didn?t want it to continue. He wanted to end it, for both of their sakes.

He rounded the corner to where her room was located and saw that her door was open. From it bled whispers and giggles, which piqued his curiosity. He decided to go early so that there would be no chance interruption from other students, though it sounded as though another had already made their way in first. This did not deter his decision, though, and as he arrived he stepped into the room.

Zhennavieve LaCroix sat comfortably on the edge of her desk across from Grant Palamine, who occupied a chair nearby. They were sharing a chortle of some sort, with her lips parted in a sweet laugh and his painted in a devious grin. In his hands he held her delicate foot, his fingers kneading the stocking-clad span with enthusiasm, periodically drifting upward along the calf to dip just beneath the hem of her Victorian-style dress. Her unlaced boot lay upon the floor, tilted just to the side of him.

He was struck. It shouldn?t have bothered him, and yet it did. Deeply. It was as though the air had been knocked out of him. He clenched his teeth together and tried to exhale, but nothing happened. A throng of emotion lambasted his mind; anger, agony, sadness, jealousy. Jealousy? Yes, that was the most surprising one. He was jealous. Jealous that another was causing her to laugh and carry on so joyously. They had flirted, and he had never seen her do so with another. To come across such a scene had his skin crawling with an envy that sought to tear him apart from the inside.

?Monsieur Grazuul??

Her voice was like a song, soft pitch and gentle accent combining to caress the ear. He looked up, and realized at that moment that his grip upon the door frame had clutched the wood so hard that it caused a crack to emerge, the sound of it garnering her attention.

And Grant?s.

Uziya stared at the Apprentice, held his gaze in challenge.

?If you don?t mind waiting outside, I?ll be done with Monsieur Palamine-?

?Grant.? The Apprentice corrected her, his gaze not wavering from the glower of the Illusionist.

She laughed softly, a sound that indicated a veiled fondness. ?I?ll be done with Grant momentarily.?

Uziya tightened his jaw to keep from blurting out anything obscene. He said nothing, and after a condemning look from one to the other he turned and headed out.

He felt foolish, his insides all jumbled in twists and knots. His shoulders were tight and he couldn?t get his hands to unclench from fists. He had thought that their little back-and-forth was based around something more than just a casual occurrence, but from the looks of it she shared such a relationship with all of her students. He should have guessed.

He turned the corner, his pace so feverish and quick that he collided shoulder-first with an oncoming student, knocking him clear to the ground. Uziya stumbled as well, able to keep his balance but only due to his close proximity to the wall. ?I?m so sorry.? He muttered as he wheeled around. ?I didn?t see-?

Startled, he stared at the student prone upon the floor who was surrounded by two books wrenched asunder and a storm of papers.
Grant Palamine.

?Not a problem.? Grant hissed as he bored a dangerous stare into the stunned Illusionist. ?I just didn?t realize that this entire hallway was yours. My apologies for walking down it.?

?No, it?s not like that. I just?? He stammered, looking to the corner and back again. ?How did you?.get here??

?Feet.? Grant snapped as he stood, his wand emerging from the forearm sheath beneath his sleeve. With an irritated whipping motion he began to gather the papers. ?I walked. That is, until you arrived. And then I fell.?

Confusion filled Uziya?s mind. How was Grant in the hallway when just seconds ago he was in Zhennavieve?s classroom? It wasn?t impossible considering the number of different teleportation spells that most novitiates knew, though they were off-limits within the school. How could Grant be in two places at once?

Unless, of course, he wasn?t in two places.

Only one.

This one.

Uziya took a step toward the intersecting hallways and looked around the corner, finding the fading form of Mistress LaCroix stepping back into her classroom, the flash of a knowing smile adorned to beautifully painted lips.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-28 22:54 EST
Revelations...

Bundled against the light rain falling, and skirting along the street Khordan made his way toward the Inn. Greatly thankful was he when the warmth and noise within greeted him as he stepped through the door. A look back and forth, and he headed for one of the empty tables near the hearth. Warmth from that fire was going to be welcome.

Ilyona was moving up the path from the Institute in thought. There was a worn book tucked under her arm as she traveled the much-used path. She was under a fine cloak as she stepped into the inn. Those amethyst eyes glancing about and a smile touched her lips seeing Khordan.

Tossing the long coat over the back of the chair he sat down, boots stretched toward the fire but keeping them out of the way. No need to have a complaint made about him tripping someone. Sigh of contentment ensued.

She moved to the table while flipping back the hood. All the while smile, "Evening, Khordan."

Ehwha? So intent had he been with warming himself he hadn't noticed anyone coming up. "Oh! Hello Ilyona." He remembered her name, which was a point for him, given his penchant to not be very good with them at first. He came to his feet quickly, gesturing to another of the chairs. "Care to sit?"

She smiled and nodded, "Don't mind if I do." She removed the cloak, laying over a nearby chair and placing the book on the table. She then gracefully settled in the chair.

"Hard at work I see." He glanced to the book Ilyona had set down, then back to the young woman herself.

"Well, yes, School and all that. I swear my eldest sister is steering me towards evocation."

"Evocation has it's positive sides..." He sat back down, feet again extended, hands resting over his stomach in a restive air. "Question is though... what interests you?"

She tilted her head. Brushing a strand of blonde out of her face, she answered, "My talents, strangely enough, lean towards Healing and Shadows."

"Healing....Shadow..." Each time he spoke he held up a hand, as though weighing the options. "The two seem diametrically opposed." He tilted his head slightly as he looked to Ilyona. "How is that working out?"

"They should be, but seems there is a talent for Shadow somewhere in the family tree and my mother is a healer."

"Well, if that's where your talent lies, then don't let anyone tell you otherwise." A smile crossed the mildly bewhiskered features, a clear sign he had yet to get a razor since arriving.

She regarded him a bit closely, the nagging sense of familiarity still present. She did not say a word, "You sound like my sister there."

"The one that wants you to learn to blow things up?" A bit of a quip there, and he was a bit oblivious to the scrutiny.

There was a chuckle at that, "The next eldest. I have 3 sisters and 2 brothers. 1 sister is younger, the rest are older."

Elessaria?s gaze wanders briefly over the commons, not lingering long on any single visage, a polite smile to the small grouping of IAPers. Ilyona smiled back to Eless and nodded. Elessaria?s smile brightens and she inclines her head with a raise of her mug in turn.

The door barely opened up and in Brantee went finding a shadow nearby. Some habits did not die to easy. Over, over, over to get another look. So many pretty-pretty people inside. It was freezing and she's cold. One deep breath and she hurried over to the hearth and crouched down in front of the fire.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-28 22:55 EST
"Ooo." Khordan nodded at that, almost chuckling softly but managed not to. "Two brothers and sisters myself, so I know how that goes." And now he did laugh, the sound soft in the general air of conversation.

She laughed softly, "I know. My family proved to be unusually prolific..." Finger drifted along a slightly pointed ear.

Brantee popped her head up to look over the crowd for anyone she knew. Quick wave to one then hunkering back down.

"Families tend to be back home." And now he did notice the sloping ear now that her fingers had drawn attention to, however unintentional. "But it makes for amusing times, unless the age differences are too great."

"A mix. My youngest sister is still in the schoolroom. The rest range on up."

The Mouse of a woman had always been attracted by dark hair and light eyes for both men and women. A contract to the curse she had, mis-matched green and blue of her own. A freak of nature they called her. Brantee stared at the lady with the pointed ear and the man she was with. Never mind her staring, she was doing it trying not to get caught.

"They got me in the middle... brother and sister up, and down." He chuckled again softly, though trailed off after a few seconds. "Anyway, are any of your siblings at the Institute?" And no, he didn't mind the stare, so no worries of getting caught.


"No, none are there, some good family friends, but no family."

Silently entering, a cursory glance about the commons was made as the door swung shut behind him. A nod to the hulking Guido, and Lucius started around the sitting area, moving for his customary spot near the Alley doorway.

Pointed ears must mean she is Elf and she had to look to see if the man's ears were the same. He had scruff she wanted to run her palms over. Jon sometimes let her touch his beard, it was all gruffly and sometimes ticklish.

"Well, I sent a letter in. We'll see what happens." He could be very pragmatic at times. "I hope things are going good for your studies?"

Painfully shy, so Brantee liked to watch. It was better than before, but she was still horribly shy. People watching was a passion of hers, so much to learn from watching. Knees pulled to her chest and she rested her chin on the top of her knee.

"Well enough. I'm sharing a wing with an interesting assortment of... beings."

Drachmel was leaned into the nook created by the stairwell and ceiling support, then a slow nod of greeting was made to the ever-elegant Ellesaria. Arms folded over the baroque breastplate as he began his contemplations. Ilyona lifted a hand to Lord DeAuster.

Beings. Then Brantee dared to look around and there were a few more pretties with pointed ears. Eyes wide, the Elven kind were so graceful.

The heavy material of the hood shifted as Lucius returned young Ilyona's greeting, the steel-grey gaze sliding next along the room, making note of the clusters gathered.

Some how Brantee inched a little closer to that table where the man with the scruffy was sitting. It was like wanting to touch feathers on an angel. Temptation was great and her resistance was naught.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-28 22:55 EST
Khordan paused for a moment at her choice of words, letting her greet others in the room allowed him to draw a hand through the perpetually tangled mop of hair. "Well, that's one way to describe them." He laughed softly, not making light of what she had said at all.

Why did he have to untangle his mop. Brantee inched closer on the floor on the opposite side of the table. Still as a statue, blending in and able to spy on them from over there.

"Let's see, I'm half-elven, we have one Human, a Siren and a Githyanki." Ilyona replied smoothly.

"A Gith..." He sat up a bit with a blink of surprise. "They aren't ones to mess around with."

Here or there spying on the Elf woman and the gruffy haired man. Brantee wanted to touch ears and a face. Biting on her lip, it was like wanting something you could never touch. Not in a lustful way, but simply to feel and imagine what it was like to be another. The diversity of people fascinated her to no ends.

Ilyona shook her head, "Gotha is definitely not one to trifle with and I share a suite with him."

Nearing their table, Brantee wanted so much to touch, then she stood up to slowly back herself away from where they were sitting. The movement caught Ilyona?s attention and there was a warm smile to Brantee.

The near presence did not bother him, he was used to such in inns and taverns. "Watch your back with him, no matter how nice he might be. Gith are nothing to fool around with." Repeating himself, not a good sign. But, he did relax and sat back, hair still rumpled no matter the brushing of hands. "Saw one of their raiding parties once. Just one of them nearly killed my brother Onyx and myself."

Eyes went wide, but when the woman smiled, she smiled back. "Pppr-pretty ears." To the lovely woman, then she crouched down by the fire again.

Ilyona paled at that. Her form seemed to stiffen, "Br... other? Onyx?" She did not mean to ignore Brantee, but Khordan?s revelation hit her hard.

Khordan nodded, leaning back again in the chair, feet extended toward the hearth. He paused and smiled a greeting to the woman Ilyona had spoken to before replying. "Oh yeah. He's the oldest of the kids, followed by Jessica." As a male, he was at times oblivious, such as now with the paling of color.

There was a stricken look on her face, "... I did not know he had family... That is why you look so familiar."

Now he was looking over, sitting up a bit straighter. ?Hold on..." Yes, the little light was clicking on. "Waitamini...you're that Ilyona?"

There was that stricken look and the eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Aye... Too many coincidences."

Well, well, this was totally a surprise. His hand moved to run through rumpled hair, something he did when surprised or at a loss.

She was paler than usual and her hand clasped before her. "I did not know. He never told me."

Aherms, coughing into his hand to compose himself. "You're the Ilyona I've heard about." Starting again, gathering his ducks in a row as grandmam would say.

She was still very pale. Those eyes regarded him and her words were soft, "What truly brings you to Rhydin?"

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-28 22:56 EST
"Looking to learn." A simple reply, as the truth is always the simplest. No need to try to remember what falsehood you have told someone later. "If I were to find out anything about my brother it would be a bonus, but we had no idea he had come here." He did pause to nod to the tenderess in thanks for the flowers put on the tabletop

She paled... "He has not. At least...Oh gods, you do not know?" The voice was very distressed.

"Know what?" A part of him dreaded asking the question, but it slipped out regardless.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. "(vq) He... was murdered." She was shaking now as she told him... Onyx's brother. "(vq) He was protecting me when we were ambushed."

A feather would have knocked him over, so it was a good thing he sat back in the chair. The hand stilled, the arm it joined moving to rest on the table. he did not speak for the moment. "Ambushed..." The words were soft, nearly a whisper.

She nodded, the tears coursing freely. "(vq) What's worse is he refused to move on."

Somewhere he had tucked away...there, a handkerchief was pulled from a pocket and handed over to Ilyona. "Wait a second. You're telling me he's some kind of ghost?"

She accepted the kerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "(vq) The proper term is Sentinel. He is a being of Shadow now.... Still protecting me."

Too much too fast. "Sentinel." He ran a hand over unshaven chin, his mind working to put the pieces together in a logical order. heh, good luck...

She nodded, still distraught. "I'm sorry.... I didn't know, or I would have told you sooner."

He needed a chance to digest this, and to learn more. He came to his feet and reached for his coat. "I need some air. Would you accompany me?"

She shakily grabbed her cloak and book. "Yes... I... need to get out of here."

It was a somber Khordan that led Ilyona to the door and the outside. Questions would be in the offering, a story to be told?

She followed him somberly. She was still distressed and wondering what else could happen... Wait better to not ask that. He held the door for her, and off for a stroll they went. Despite the warmth of her cloak, she was shaking as if chilled to the bone. Maybe she was. Her features were pale.

Having drawn the coat tight to ward away the chill, Khordan walked quietly for a block, thoughts ariot. ?What happened?? His voice was even, the control taught by his pupils working well in his stead for the moment.

"Torvien had his bullies harassing me for sometime. One of the more vicious assault, he.. Onyx rescued me. The Bullies however would not be deterred."

He nodded slowly, listening as they turned a corner, moving toward the riverfront.

"They beat him. They did not see the Sentinel rising from where they left him to lay." She said softly, the recounting of that night difficult.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-03-28 23:00 EST
Stopping by the iron railing that bordered the sidewalk Khordan looked out over the water and the lights gleaming on the surface. ?A sentinel...one of those shadow beings you spoke of earlier??

She nodded as she leaned tiredly on the rail. "Yes." She seemed to look to the closest shadow and it seemed to shift of it's own volition. "Sentient and deadly."

That information was filed away, and he looked over to Ilyona. ?Then what??

"They ran. Presumably back to their homes." She took a deep breath. "I learned days later that each one had been found in their bedchambers... victims of strangulation."

In reality he didn't give a damn about them right now. ?And these were the one's who killed my brother?? There was a bit of a tremor in Khordan's tone, as he looked back over the river.

She nodded and looked at the shifting shadow, "He took his revenge. Only one remains, still running, but warded... Too close to Torvien to Risk."

He nodded slowly, his eyes closing for a long moment. ?What...was done with him?? Khordan couldn't bring himself to say 'his body', as that was too raw.

She whispered hoarsely, "Consumed by the shadows." She closed her eyes and tears coursed down her cheeks.

Khordan's fist clenched as he fought to control his emotions. It took a moment for him to trust himself to speak again. ?No one thought to contact his family?? That was not sitting well with him, his gaze sliding back to the young half-elf.

"I did not know he had family." She replied softly. "Otherwise I would not have delayed."

He nearly cast a spell to detect if she was lying, but the will just wasn't there. Khordan nodded slowly in understanding. ?Somehow I'm not surprised. Onyx always was hard to open up with.?

She sighed softly, "It was a slow process, and in the end we did not truly have the time. There were joyful moments... He was not alone when he passed."

?That's good to know.? Perhaps not the best thing to say, but he was dealing with quite the revelation and shock. ?I'll have to get word home. Ma has been wondering for some time now, since the letters stopped coming.?

She nodded letting a tear drift down her cheek. "(vq) I'm sorry... I wish I had known. Gods."

Khordan had looked at the glimmering lights of the city, then looked back. Reaching into his coat he drew out the handkerchief and held it out for Ilyona.

She gingerly took the handkerchief. "I loved him, very deeply." That shadow still writhed a bit.

?As I'm sure he did you.? A deep breath was taken in, the cold stinging the lungs. It helped him to focus. ?Thank you Ilyona.? He said after several seconds. ?Thank you for telling me.?

She glanced at him the eyes sad, "It... Is the least I can do." She looked to that shadow again, still writhing a bit.

?C'mon...? Khordan pushed away from the railing, rolling his shoulders after being stooped over for the time. ?You need to get back, and it's getting colder.? He shrugged out of the heavy coat and moved to slip it over Ilyona's shoulders to ward away the cold.

She blinked a bit, drawing that shattered dignity in around her, "I should return to school... Before the Dorm Warden comes looking."

?No, last thing we need is you getting into trouble.? Wasn't much a tease as much as a statement. ?We can talk more later. I...need to think a bit, and make arrangements to get a message home.?

She nodded briefly, "The Embassy in the WestEnd... They can aid."

Embassy...he'll have to check into that. He escorted her off into the night, heading for the gates that led to the institute. She walked in silence, the winds drying her tear stained face.

She would have to return his coat the first chance she got?

(Kudos to Khordan Rylos, Elessaria, Lucius DeAuster & Brantee)

Alaric Granger

Date: 2011-03-31 22:57 EST
Lock Down
"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" He swung a glare in the direction of the ugly little beast that was seconds from having his booted foot planted against its lips.

Perhaps recognizing its imminent brush with pain the Vaden scurried off and left him standing in an empty hallway.

"Get back here you overglorified furball!" Striding around the corner, Alaric drew up sharp at the near collision with a regal-looking blonde.

"I'm going to assume that you weren't addressing me?" The tilt of her head needed to keep his face in view as his towering height dwarfed her considerably.

"Of course not." Immediately smooth, the gravel of his baritone sought to soothe with sound as well as words, "My apologies....?"

"Mistress Kysinya." A brush of a hand drawn across the short sleek cap of blonde strands that had drifted into her extraordinary eyes.

"Mistress Kysinya. Forgive me my rudeness. I was attempting to leave when that --"

"Leave? Oh dear, have you not been informed? We are confined to the school grounds until such time as the recent magical explosion can be explained."

"What magical explosion?" Immediately his thoughts shot to his sister in the midst of some kind of disaster.

"There apparently is something de-aging people in RhyDin. Were you not present at the mandatory student's meeting?"

Alaric felt his gaze drop away and mentally kicked himself for the telltale sign of guilt. He'd been asleep in the GorgonHorn Hall. An accident actually as the comfortably stuffy chair had worked its seduction upon his tired and aching body.

"Again, I seem to be offering an apology for my insolence, Mistress Kysinya. I missed the meeting, but I must find a way off campus. My sister is out there and I need to assure myself of her safety."

She surveyed him for a moment before nodding once, "Yes, well you'll have to take that up with the Headmistress as special permission is necessary."


As the Mistress of Air Elementalism moved off, Alaric turned glittering green eyes down the hall toward the guarded door he'd attempted to exit earlier. There was no way he could wait, not with Nina in potential danger.

...he needed a way out. Now.

Tiatari

Date: 2011-04-01 19:51 EST
There was an odd sense of glee as she buried the dagger within the pulsating heart. Blood spurted in a thick ichor to splatter her face and neck. She didn't pause in the incantation, only fluttered her lashes against the spray.

Leaving her fingers wrapped around the hilt she clearly enunciated the final stanza and drew delighted eyes down upon her handiwork.

The mountainous chest of the creature had ceased its movements as she had stolen its life much earlier in the ritual, but now, now the first of unnatural life stirred and it drew in a breath it no longer needed.

Large eyelids lifted to reveal cavernous pits that had once held eyes before her nimble fingers had removed the bulbuous masses. Now, an inky smoke burned in the crevices.

A massive palm rose toward her and the slender body of the Primorus Discipiulus did not flinch before its path. As it brushed across her cheek in a surprisingly gentle caress of love, she felt a surge of success.

But it was only when her dove grey eyes met the approving glance of the Mastema that she smiled.

Her lessons in the tower of Barud Das were advancing remarkably well.

************

Later that night in her dorm room she was the recipient of a deliciously appeasing massage by her lover. As his slender palms moved over the same skin that had been gently mauled earlier she sunk into slumber, replete with satisfaction, the burning glee still held within her heart.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-04-04 17:40 EST
((This is connected to the Regressions of Youth and Mentoring Program SLs))

She stomped. The slap of her dainty heels resounded through the hallway, a warning to all who stood idle or dared to linger in her path.

The mages and sorcerers that she crossed - the few who weren?t consumed by classroom obligations - looked longer than necessary, while the less refined students, younger or more haphazard, froze in their meandering ways to openly stare. She offered no pause, no words or smiles to sate curiosity -- simply a hard-set mouth and enraged eyes, fixed straight ahead to the end of the hallway.

No one had ever seen Bryn in such a state. Thanks to Grant?s artistic hand, they?d seen much of her, but they?d never seen a Bryn lacking the poised pleasantness of mien and personality that defined her in the minds of the student body. She?d started the day groomed to typical perfection, clearly, but now -- now her chocolate locks had mostly slipped from their arrangement and hung in pure disarray, now her stockings were criss-crossed with runs and holes, now a broken strand of knotted pears hung, defeated, from her neck. She was bloody.

And she was obviously very, very pissed.

The stomping ceased before a classroom where Cinder was mid-lecture. Interrupting a superior?s class - for any reason - was typically discouraged, but this issue was far too urgent to wait. After opening the door a foot or so, she leaned discreetly inside, and the sight of her instantly monopolized the attention of all, including the vampiric instructor.

?Mage Havenloche,? she began, her voice seething under the polished lilt, ?may I have a word with you??

With impeccable grace, Cinder excused himself from the curious class and joined the young necromancer in the hallway, his mesmerizing vocals discreetly low to avoid being easily overheard: ?I?ll assume from your appearance that this truly is important enough to inconvenience me right now.?

?It?s the novice Jolie.? Bryn?s stormcloud eyes flaunted only annoyance as they met the dangerous gaze of her fellow Viperfang, and she spoke quickly: ?I?m sure you recall the assembly about the ?magical anomaly? that occurred outside the school? Jolie was apparently a victim of this anomaly - she was out, probably hunting, when it occurred. When she returned, they took her immediately to the infirmary, but there was nothing physically wrong with her and she was causing a great deal of trouble, so Mistress Evahlys contact me, because I?m her mentor. She told me to supervise her until they could devise some solution.?

Cinder?s flawless face seemed darkly amused: ?So, our dear Jolie has been transformed into...?

?...a child.? Bryn nodded.

?Where is the girl now?? he queried, a vicious smile twisting his cold lips.

?I don?t know,? Bryn answered reluctantly. ?She slipped away from me about an hour ago. She?s horrific, Cinder, for she still retains the strength and speed and bloodlust of her kind, but she has the sensibility of a seven year-old.? As evidence, Bryn extended an alarmingly slender arm, the forearm of which was marred by the punctures of petite bites, easily visible through the torn and crimson-stained fabric of her blouse. ?Will you help me find her??

?I?d rather not,? Cinder responded, a snide edge to his voice. ?But I will. It would reflect poorly on our house to take this issue to the administration. Where were you when you...misplaced...her??

?Chamber Vulgare.? The vicious anger that had almost subsided flared again across her pretty features. ?I was hoping to find some clothes that would fit her properly, and she attacked me while I was perusing her wardrobe. When I defended myself, she fled.?

?Very well. I?ll dismiss this class, and we?ll begin our search.? With the illustrative grace of his lineage, Cinder began to turn away -- then, he paused, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.

?When we find her, Bryn, you will be indebted to me. Remember that.?

((...sooooo, this is very very open! If you?d like to have your character have a run-in with kiddo-version Jolie, PLEASE DO.))

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-04-05 22:10 EST
Her scream rent the air seconds before the explosion of bright light rendered everyone in the hallway blind. The detonation of magic came in a quick staccato of popping sounds.

"What happened?!"

"I can't see!"
"Who's hurt?!"
"I'm blind!"
"Who did that?"
"Quinnon!? Where?!"
"Is that blood?!"

The cacophony of panicked students and a few flustered personnel was interrupted by the roaring bellow of an enraged minotaur. Silence was instantaneous.

As sight slowly returned the vision of Fleur Rousseau holding one blood soaked hand to the slender column of her throat was revealed. Shaken she was leaning against the sturdy blue fur of the warden as she pointed with the other hand down another hallway, "She went that way. The searing light shield was instinctive. I injured her but I was unprepared."

"Who?" Sartha rumbled.

A confused flutter of her lashes revealed her dimming consciousness, "I-..I...think it was Jolie but..." the frown of her plush lips revealed her pain, "she was too young..."

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-04-11 17:39 EST
{Laurus Wing}

It had taken only the sight of Damien to convince her that the issue of Grant could wait. The bath had been a splendid way to spend a few intimate moments and while they had to stop short of culmination she was glowing by the time they exited for dinner.

She loved feeding him. It was an odd hobby to possess but there was something about cooking and creating something that he would enjoy that brought her intense pleasure and satisfied some nurturing need. Vliss was naturally very mothering and if some of that transferred to her mate well it wasn't on purpose.

It was only the next day that she remembered the odd discomforting end to her encounter with Grant and as he waited with smug assuredness (carefully hidden from her) she paused on her way out the door that morning, "Grant?"

"Yes, Vliss?" His grin was hidden as he deliberately kept his back to her as if he worried he'd offend her again.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry about the confusion of yesterday."

"It's fine, Vliss, just a mistake all around." He injected a hint of hurt in his voice with the skillful ploy of an actor born.

"Let me make it up to you."

His grin was purely wicked, though it remained private, "Well..."

"I'll make dinner tonight."

The idea of an intimate dinner alone with Vliss was exactly the direction he wanted to go and he turned toward her with soulful eyes, "If you're sure?"

"Of course." Her smile was sweet as she gathered the rest of her supplies and slipped out the door, "Oh and bring an appetite, Damien eats a lot and I always make plenty."

"D-damien?"

"Of course!" Brightly, her golden eyes warming at the mention of the shadow mage, "Oh! And you might as well invite Ashriel, " A slight hesitant frown, "Or Iameth, whichever will be available, I'll see if Damien can talk Angel and Ilyona into coming. It will be great!"

She moved off down the hall on a swish of her skirts, leaving a thunderous Grant to close the door behind them.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-04-11 23:37 EST
Studies

She'd been doing almost nothing but studying lately, Kish was acutely aware of her growing weariness, as evinced by her shortening temper. She hadn't meant to get snappy, but her increased size was beginning to limit her mobility and make what little sleep she got poor. She was distracted as she went over her casting, and snapped to attention with a startle as the stern voice jerked her back to reality. "Novitiate Saphira! Pay attention to what you are doing and focus the flame into a singular pillar. You have just incinerated my desk with your carelessness."

The deep resonance might have been pleasant had it not been laced with the venom of disappointment and distaste. He had not wanted to take on another student to tutor, but Niveah had insisted the girl needed training. Her first demonstration had confirmed the girl had talent, but she lacked the focus needed to wield it properly. Menolymus frowned at the young woman before him, looking if possible, more stern. "Again." No compassion in his voice.

Saphira nodded mutely and lifted her hands, and murmured the incantation. Arcana filled the air, fairly crackling as flame sparked to life before her. Sweat beaded on her brow as she focused on bending the flame to her will, creating a pillar of flame three feet from the charred remains of Master Menolymus' desk. She gasped as she felt his hands taking her wrists firmly in a grip that would have been difficult even for her to escape had he chosen to exert actual force.

Instead of any of the number of scenarios that blurred through her mind he merely adjusted the positioning of her arms. "There." He did not care to have her thrust upon him, but her natural ability and persistence was beginning to glean his approval. His voice was slightly less dispassionate, but he still wore a stern mask. Menolymus stepped back and critically eyed her spellcasting. "You are improving, but your inability to concentrate is sabotaging your work."

Saphira sighed, dispelling the flames with an almost negligent gesture that gave the Master of flame pause. So effortless. But the task at hand swallowed any praise he might have had for her. "I will speak with your other instructors and see to it you have time to rest." Saphira's eyes widened. "Please, no Master Menolymus. I promise I will work harder, please!" She was met with stone faced determination and might as well have tried to argue with a wall. "You will report to Mistress Evahlys forthwith and give her this." He extended his hand and a scroll formed from thin air. "Yes Master." Her desire to rest finally overwhelming her and her will to protest gone.

Menolymus Nodded curtly. "You are dismissed." Saphira nodded, turned, and hurried at the fastest waddle she could muster for the infirmary where she dutifully handed over the scroll. Evahlys opened it with a word, and looked it over with a slight frown. "On the bed, Saphira." The eyeroll was met with a deeper frown. "Now, please." "Yes Mistress." Came the submissive reply as she struggled up. Evahlys took her time inspecting the girl and checking her over. "Well, you're healthy and the babies are fine. Menolymus says your attention is sparrowlike and scattered. He suspects you are not sleeping." She fixed Saphira with a stern gaze. "Are you?" "Yes, Mistress. Poorly though. I cannot get comfortable."

Evahlys nodded thoughtfully and turned to an orderly. "Fetch Kish, will you?" She turned back to the matter at hand. "You are to be confined to your bed for the next three days in order to rest. I will have your boyfriend administer this to you twice daily." Evahlys said as she lifted a small vial. At that moment the orderly returned with Kish in tow. "Ah good, Novitiate Kish. Come here." Kish looked from Evahlys to Saphira obviously worried. "What's up?" Forgetting to address the infirmary mistress properly. "Saphira is exhausted and I want her in bed the next three days. I will rely on you to enforce it. I also want you to give her this potion twice daily. Use the dropper to measure out the dose. You may put it in something to help with the taste. It's to help her sleep."

Kish nodded then glanced at Saphira. "Told you so." His eyes returned to Evahlys. "It won't hurt the babies, right?" Evahlys fixed him with a stare. "Young man are you suggesting I do not know my craft well enough not to endanger the life of a pregnant woman?" Her expression dared him to say 'yes'. "No, Mistress." He replied hastily. "I just worry is all." Saphira just listened. Kish looked over to her as Evahlys gave him the vial. "You heard her, Saph. Bed." He had the 'Don't even TRY to argue tone. She resigned herself to her fate and slid down with a wobble she found being steadied by Kish. "Thanks." She murmured. "Thank you Mistress." She added as Kish took her by the elbow and steered her out heading to her old shed. A little peace and quiet would be just the thing.

Sartha snorted at the pair imperiously as they passed him, as he tromped to the infirmary. "You wanted something?" He inquired in gruff rumbling tones. Evahlys looked up. "Yes. Would you do me an enormous favor and make sure Novitiate Saphira does not go wandering?" A shaggy brow lifted. "Why?" "She is to rest the next few days and I do not want her sneaking out of bed and wandering around. If you catch her doing so, bring her to me and I will have her confined here." Sartha snorted his huge head bobbing slightly. "Right." Nothing more. He turned on hoof and tromped away, looking for any rule-breakers or tardy students.

Ozalynne

Date: 2011-04-12 15:57 EST
Part 1

Clumsy was it?

She could barely concentrate. Everytime she closed her eyes she imagined Blizzard's broken hand and alternated between being sick to her stomach and furious at his treatment by House ViperFang.

As Mistress Mistmark dismissed them, Ozzie caught sight of Felix slipping within the supply closet. Acting on impulse she followed him. His movements were stealthy but not noticeably so, as he carefully selected a small vial from the stores of components.

"Stealing?" Ozzie dropped the word into the silence and watched as he spun about to narrow his eyes upon her.

He scowled, "Mind your business elsewhere novitiate."

Carefully he returned a stack of items back to their rightful place, mindful of their handling, as Ozzie watched his elegant hands she thought of Blizzard's broken one and fury returned. "You betchya." She replied flippantly and turned to flounce out, cottoncandy eyes taking note of particular components that would prove to be useful.

It took but a moment's concentration, a wave of her hand, and as the objects began to fling themselves off of the shelves to whirl in the center of the room, Felix turned toward her in surprise, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing around with components can be dangerous Felix," Ozzie explained with a narrowing of her own eyes, "One wouldn't want to be ...clumsy..."


She stepped into the portal that took her from the scene moments before an explosion rent the air.

**********

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-04-12 21:35 EST


While Bryn and Cinder were in an entirely different wing of the school during Fleur?s encounter with young bloodsucker, word spread like a widening tremor from this confused epicenter, for many who had seen the bright flash scattered throughout the hallways, eager to unleash their varied accounts to the student population. Details were scarce, accuracy was dubious at best, and the story varied wildly depending on the personality of the teller. It didn?t stop anyone.

Nothing sparked conversation quite like the threat of danger.

?Jolie has been spotted,? Cinder surmised from the whispers, his jaw set in rigid determination. Bryn?s expression was much the same, though the fortitude upon her delicate features was edged with irritation.

?Where?? she inquired crisply as they weaved through the hallways.

?I?m not sure.? His hand lashed out, wrapping steadfast fingers around the fragile bend of her wrist, abruptly halting their progress at the intersection of several hallways. The vampire could feel the vibrant pulse of her enraged blood beneath his fingertips - blood that called his attention to the part of her full lips, to the rise of her breasts with breath, to the tiny bites on her arm already marring otherwise flawless flesh. With masterful control, he ignored his most basic, deadly compulsions; it was a discipline he had spent many years at the Institute perfecting.

The necromancer?s colorless eyes widened in imperative questioning.

?Wait,? he commanded, releasing her wrist. ?Let me listen.? The vampire fixed his extraordinary senses upon the race of words through the wings, dissecting hundreds of threaded conversations and extracting the meaningful details. ?Sorceress Rousseau,? he murmured. ?Or Sartha. One of them has been attacked. Right in the hallway.?

The cruel edge of his chin tilted faintly, keen eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, he jerked his chin to the right. ?This way. Stay on the lookout for the Sorceress, or the Warden, or --?

?--children?? Bryn finished with dry iciness.

?Right,? he confirmed stiffly as they resumed their swift pace through the school?s labyrinthine hallways, toward the most recent sighting.

Ozalynne

Date: 2011-04-13 16:34 EST
(The Infirmary)
PayBack Part 2

The curtains parted to reveal the impressive form of Ashriel bearing down upon them and Ozzie squared her slender little shoulders. Hopping up from her seated position near the battered and dazed Felix she put herself between them even as she interjected in sugary sweetness to Mistress Evahlys: "Mistress Mistmark is furious. Most of her collection has been destroyed by his clumsiness."

The "tsk tsk" sound of the Mistress of the Infirmary was exactly the reaction Ozzie had been going for and with a shift of her gaze toward Ashriel she added a hint of uncertainty to her voice, "I'm sure his injuries hurt, I'd petition your healer," a nod in Ashriel's direction, "but we all know his views on being clumsy." A dramatic sigh (and no, she's not particularly a great actress), "I suppose he'll have to heal on his own time to properly learn his Lesson."

Felix narrowed hate filled eyes upon the cotton candy sprite, murder quite evident. But he couldn't contend her version of the accident for should anyone actually scry what had really happened in that storeroom it would become apparent he had been in the process of stealing.

"You know, you might not get help with your healing," Ozzie chirped cheerfully, "But maybe your House can help you with the replenishment of the Components Storeroom. Mistress Mistmark said you have one month to replace every single item in there...or else."

Brais would've been proud of the weight of that word. Her studies really were beginning to pay off.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-04-13 19:22 EST
A visit to Vesper

Kish sat near Saphira's bed watching her sleep for the first time in what seemed like ages. He was worried. He let his eyes drift around the inside of the shed. It may be spring outside but in here he had meticulously coated every square inch in hoarfrost and ice. The floor was thick with snow and there was even a light dusting of it on the bed in which she slept. Saphira murmured in her sleep and rolled over, a hank of hair falling loose onto the pillow.

He remembered his visit to the FeyPact witch and had remembered her apparent (If not Bizarre) sort of concern for Saphira and her interest in the pregnancy. Kish rose to his feet and leaned down to kiss Saphira's forehead tenderly before slipping out and closing the door gently. He turned for Vesper's cottage and began the walk to see her. Perhaps she might be able to offer some insight. If she didn't just go batsh*t. He was well aware of the rumors.

Saphira slept peacefully, oblivious to Kish's mission.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-04-17 22:48 EST
Commons

The prowling agitation of her form warned that she was not in the mood to be trifled with and the novice group of Water Elementalists all skittered out of her path.

Saphira's discomfort was broadcast along their link and despite the compact athleticism of her body she felt awkward, demanding more room through the archway than she needed. Holding her normally fluid body with an uncomfortable stiffness.

And the hunger.

Even now she was starved. No time to hunt. She eyed the foods arranged artfully with something akin to lust. She wanted Meat and settled on the dried jerky that was offered.

And a bowl of grapes. And while she was at it the bread. And maybe some cheese. And a little bit of that as well...it all kept piling up and she imagined Albion and Saphira laughing at her hunger. The thought brought a smile. Ever since her meltdown the air between them all had cleared and it felt good. Real Good.

A voice at her elbow gave her pause, not just because of the deliverer but mostly because she was shocked that he'd been able to get so close without her noticing,

"WindWhisperer." The icy shock of white blonde hair gleamed in coiffed perfection as Benedykt inclined his head in greeting.

The sudden impact of memories that had been hidden behind a curtained cloud of mystic enchantment had her gasping. The tray of food she'd gathered clattered to the floor in a sound designed to draw startled looks.

Heat. Sinful, sultry, sensuous heat curled in belly at the memories. Wide mint blue eyes locked upon a surprisingly equally startled Benedykt, "You remember." He whispered.

And she did. She remembered his body. His touch. His taste. And the taste of another. If at all possible her eyes only further widened as she realized the tangle of silken bodies that held prominence in her mind's eye included the volatile redhead of SatyrKiss.

She'd.

He'd.

They'd.

She backed into a chair with a growl forming in her throat. He took a step toward her, his usually smirking countenance exhibiting confusion, "You shouldn't be able to remember anything."

They'd enchanted her. She remembered it all now. Being surrounded by SatyrKiss. The glittering eyes of the Overseer and the stunningly hot, twistedly erotic encounter that had followed after it had been determined her role in the GossipWinds.

She spun about and shifted into a feathery form as she took off. She couldn't face Benedykt in that moment. Couldn't face herself. For it wasn't disgust she felt, but almost a despairing need to repeat the experience.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-04-18 23:09 EST
Instinct Part 1

It had been almost a week since she?d had her three days of rest and despite feeling refreshed she was growing ever more restless. Kish had been trying to ease her discomfort, even going as far as massaging her until she was able to sleep. Kish was watching her sleep as he studied for a test, chewing absently on his pen. He sighed softly, and whistled to Lune who promptly flew to him to land gingerly on his wrist. The owl seemed to know that Kish was unable to heal to way his Mistress could and took care not to cause injury. ?I wonder what it is she?s dreaming.? He said to the owl. Lune blinked at him and tilted his head as if to ask why he?d want to know such a thing. Then again, Lune?s idea of a good dream included lots of mice.

Lune coo?d and clacked his beak before tugging at Kish?s pocket. Kish laughed softly. ?Sorry, I don?t have anything for you buddy.? Lune looked decidedly disappointed and spread his wings taking to the air and flying though the window and into the night sky to hunt. Kish watched after a moment before looking back to his book with another sigh. ?What time is it?? Came Saphira?s soft voice, thick with sleep. He looked up startled. ?Time for you to still be sleeping.? He said with a hint of a smile. ?You know what I meant, Kish.? She said. But there was a mild hint of amusement in her own voice. ?It?s about three A.M how you feelin? Saph??

?Tired still, and restless. ? The covers rustled softly as she sat up and rubbed her face. Kish watched as she slid to the edge of the bed. ?What are you reading, Kish?? ?Hm? Oh, advanced magical theory and application. I have a test tomorrow.? He set the book down and looked at her. He had grown accustomed to her face being more lupine lately. Even in her animalistic type state he found her incredibly beautiful. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, not minding the fur. ?Have I told you lately I think you are beautiful?? He murmured to her softly. His reward was the sudden intense rubbing of that furred cheek against his. His response was immediate and he slipped out of his clothes and into the bed with her, gently helping her back into the bed.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-04-18 23:10 EST
Instinct Part 2

Saphira woke alone and stretched luxuriously, jaws gaping to expose canine teeth. She wasn?t surprised Kish was already gone, he usually was before she woke due to early classes. Slowly she sat up and got out of the bed. She was feeling a little irritable despite the intimacy she and Kish had shared only hours ago. She surveyed her shed critically. It wouldn?t do. She frowned to herself and turned for the door. Rather than heading for her first class, she headed for the main building to search out the linen closet. Students gave her a wide berth uneasy with a novitiate who looked as though she could devour them without much effort. She was enormous, rippling muscle and smooth fur that did nothing to hide the raw strength. Even so heavily pregnant she was formidable. In lycan form she strode through the halls, nearly taking off the face of a girl who thought she?d be clever with a snide remark about a pregnant b*tch.

She didn?t stop when Sartha confronted her, either. Classes had begun and students were supposed to be in them, not wandering about. ?Novitiate.? He rumbled in that gravelly voice. ?Aren?t you supposed to be in class?? The hulking form of Saphira turned, holding what looked like the entire supply of spare blankets from one of the linen closets. ?I?m busy, Sartha.? She turned away to resume her trek. Sartha snorted, never one to be dismissed especially by a student. Hooves struck the floor with heavy sharpness as he pursued her. ?That?s school property, novitiate.? He growled as he reached for her shoulder. She turned abruptly and jerked from his rough grasp snarling in defiance. He had not expected that and decided to let her go. He knew she was growing close to that time thanks to Evahlys informing him. Really, information he had not cared to hear but nevertheless he decided it would not due to inadvertently cause harm.

Saphira moved with purpose through the halls finally emerging and making her way of all places toward the Faepact witch?s woods. She lifted her nose to the wind and moved through the dense trees. After an hour of what seemed like aimless wandering she found what she was looking for. She dropped the blankets on the ground and dropped to all fours. Powerful claws tore at the earth scooping it up and away efficiently as she dug. Most of the day was consumed with her relentless digging. Dirt was in her fur, her hair and her claws and hands were nearly black.

Such was her determination not even a pack of wolves in cooperation could have rivaled the efficiency she exhibited now. By dusk she was satisfied with the labyrinthine den she had excavated and sought out ferns and other soft flora to soften the floor. This was placed in the deepest chamber and then covered with the blankets she?d taken from school. She rubbed her cheeks and sides along the walls of the tunnels and the chambers finally urinating at the mouth of the cave to mark her territory and warn others away. Any who trespassed would meet a grim fate, and they were warned.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-04-20 21:33 EST


The Viperfang pair, Cinder and Bryn, travelled quickly, but by the time they reached the hallway where Fleur was attacked, legitimate information had morphed into fantastic gossip, and there was little to lead them in a productive direction.? Several students offered what information they could, but the miniature vampire was long fled.
?
"This chase is futile," Cinder concluded quickly, his refined brow twisted in vexation, "We will stay in one place. Our best chance of catching her will be when she is fatigued, which would be right before dawn."? There was no courteous concern for Bryn?s assessment of the situation; the?possibility of anything less than her complete submissiveness didn't seem to occur to him.
?
Long, dark lashes fluttered over her colorless eyes, yet her features effected no emotion.? Finally, the lovely line of her chin inclined in a brief nod.
?
____

Walking into Bryn's quarters in Lilium was like drowning in Rococo: gilded richness and?other absurd luxuries cluttered the spacious candle-lit chamber, the gentle gold air smelling of?virginal perfume and dying roses - truly a scene that would make Marie Antoinette proud.? ?From his elegant, easy?perch on a damask-covered fainting couch, Cinder watched as the young necromancer disrobed.
?
There was nothing intentionally?coy about her actions - she peeled off her ruined, bloody blouse with idle feminine grace, exposing the?sumptuous pink lace of a balconette bra that boldly offered, above its brief hug of sensual fabric, the eager curves of her small, girlish breasts.? Long strands of pearls - three in total - traced the pattern of these curves, falling comfortably between.? She was excessively slender, and as she stepped out of her skirt, shadows fell from the sharp jut of her hipbones before she vanished into her closet.

For all of this, Cinder maintained his indifferent composure: who in the school didn?t know what Bryn looked like naked?

She emerged in clean clothes - a simple, short and strapless dress in soft purple cotton. And they waited.

____

The pair set out again in the hour before dawn, roaming the silent, dark hallways, alert to any movement in the sprawling maze of passages.

Nothing. The beckon of slumber pulled from each of the quiet quarters they passed, and it seemed the whole school dreamed together in this twilight hour. Then, by chance, they rounded a corner just in time to see a black-clad female figure lash out at the opposite end of a darkened hallway, illuminating horrific shadows as the lightening-like brightness of her attack bounced down the haunted passage. Strangely, the scene was silent, save for the fall of a booted foot upon the stone floor from the caster, and a moan from the petite target, who now curled woefully in a corner.

Bryn and Cinder were upon the pair in a second. Cinder moved to restrain the shaken, vicious vampire-child, and Bryn placed a familiar hand upon the slender shoulder of the caster, whose blue eyes blinked widely at her mutated peer. The smile seeped back onto Bryn?s lips.

?Quillyan,? she purred, ?nice work.?

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-04-23 17:50 EST
{House Viperfang}


?And then what?? Iameth asked, lavender limbs and masculinity strewn lazily across the couch. Just a few feet from him a young Novitiate danced to the music Grant played, twining and twisting about in sensual motion for no other reason than the enjoyment of the Jikininki Sorcerer. The parlor of House Viperfang was his favorite place to pass the midnight hours, if for no other reason than the lack of massive blue Minotaur interruption.

Beside him Felix stood and watched with a bored ire, arms folded angrily across his chest. ?And then Mage Galician told me to leave.? He clenched his teeth together. ?And I did.?

A thin bolt of electricity jumped from Iameth?s outstretched finger and streaked to the novitiate, striking her on the bare backside that had revealed itself with her twirl. The flouncy uniform skirt flared with her graceful pirouette and showed that glimpse of young, taut flesh, which was then subjected to his taunting zap.

The Novitiate chirped and spun about to level a look that was teasing fury. ?Iameth!? She cried.

?You know the game.? He retorted, devilish grin firmly in place as he made a gesture with his finger to continue. ?Proceed.?

The angst melted away as she watched his seductive eyes, catching the beat of the music with her hips first, swaying in pendulum fashion before slender arms coiled above her head and she was once again immersed within the dance.

Iameth glanced up to where Felix stood. ?Brais is a bastard.?

Felix?s sharp, contradicting, laughter showed an amalgam of emotion: outrage and absurdity. ?Hardly. Mage Galician did what many of these other students wouldn?t have the courage to do, namely stand up for one of their House who was obviously weaker than his adversary. How righteous he was as he gripped me with his spell, safeguarding the sanctity of Stormsabre. It was?refreshing.?

?Maybe he should be the one dancing.? Grant chimed in from beyond the large harp nestled between his thighs, a debonair flash to sensual lips.

Iameth laughed as another bolt discharged from his fingertip, once again striking the flash of ripe backside. ?Do not fault Master Foster for his appreciation of Brais Galician?s efforts. If anything, we could all learn something of such loyalty. How many times have we failed to elevate our glorious House even further because we couldn?t get out of each other?s way?? Another zap ignited a whimper from the girl, though he gave little notice as he continued. ?What about Blizzard??

Felix tightened his jaw, the name ? Blizzard ? rekindling memories of Bryn?s answer to the last question he had asked her. He clenched his fingers around his biceps, needing something to strangle. ?He?s vermin. Worthless Vermin.?

?With only one hand, from the sounds of it.? Again Grant tolled from the side.

?Indeed.? Iameth nodded. ?He went to the infirmary after the incident and wanted my dear brother to heal him, though it seems even Ashriel?s eternal bleeding heart couldn?t ? or wouldn?t ? help him.?

Felix took some solace in that fact, which was quickly replaced by the return of his vexation as the dancing Novitiate made her way to him, her svelte undulation brushing pert swells against the hard lines of his unmoving frame. He resisted the urge to shove her away, if only because it seemed that Iameth, the Overseer ? or partial Overseer, as it was ? of House Viperfang enjoyed her presence. He ignored the displeasure, instead shifting his focus to Grant. ?When I requested this meeting with Sorcerer Iameth I did so under the impression I wouldn?t have to hear input from subordinates.?

?Subordinate?? Grant asked, his laughter laced with venom. ?Seems I?m an apprentice just as you are, Felix. Nothing subordinate about equals.?

?Equals?? He snarled; the intimidation of his cold stare dulled by the bobbing emergence of blond ringlets thanks to the swaying form of the dancing Novitiate. Still Felix seemed unfazed, his glower leveled upon Grant. ?You haven?t even decided on a school yet. You?re without purpose, a drifting ripple within the current. Just a number. You can?t even begin to fathom what it is like to be my equal.?

The harsh banter between the two drew another chortle from Iameth as his colorless gaze slid back and forth between them periodically. ?An accurate assessment, Mr. Foster. But once again, here we are tearing each other down. What would Mage Galician say??

Grant?s serpentine smile never wavered, nor did his fingers as they plucked at the harp strings. There were many advantages that he felt he had over Felix, but one of them certainly wasn?t magic. Felix Foster was one of those students who had a knack for arcana beyond the norm, and considering they were in a School of Magic, the norm was as far from normal as could be.

Felix drew in a breath to settle the rage that stirred at his core, tearing his glower from Grant to once again focus upon the Overseer. ?Iameth, I want Blizzard Vaughn to suffer. Immensely. I want him on the ground begging for my mercy.?

?Well that?s going to be a bit harder now that you?ve shown your hand.? The stretch and torque of rippling muscle brought Iameth up into a sitting position as the dancing Novitiate made her way from Felix to sway before him, turning away so that she could display the taut swell of her backside hidden just beneath that bouncing skirt hem. Swinging, she dropped lower and lower. Iameth watched intently, anxious for more, even as he conversed with Felix. ?Luckily for you, we have an angle.?

?Oh??

?Absolutely. You and he are in Master Tracha?s Evocation class, aren?t you??

Felix nodded, his attention suddenly torn between Iameth and the Novitiate, who was on her knees and facing the Sorcerer with her thin fingers upon his thighs, head whipping her flaxen hair in large, fanning circles. ?Yes.?

?And doesn?t Master Tracha have duels every week??

?He does, though I am partnered with Ebonique.?

Iameth lashed out with a hand and snatched that spiraling blonde hair in his fist. He jerked her into him, tearing from her a whimper just before her lips were claimed by his own. She showed protest at first, her palms pushing against the hard expanse of his chest, though that quickly melted away as the kiss lengthen.

Blood seeped from the corners of their conjoined mouths and trickled down narrowly flush chins.

She mewled and moaned and together their lips began to pulsate, deepening the embrace. She crawled onto his lap, spreading her stocking-clad legs to straddle his strong hips as fingers worked desperately to unhinge the buttons that sheathed her breasts within her blouse.

Iameth broke the kiss with a twist of his head, giving her the side of his neck to savor ? which she did quickly and without complaint. He stared up at Felix with a devious smirk painted red by the blood of the Novitiate?s tongue. ?Don?t worry about Ebonique, I?ll take care of her. You just be prepared to battle Blizzard.?

Felix blinked away the sight erupting before him to focus solely upon Iameth. Slowly he nodded, his lips splaying into a grin that echoed the wickedness expressed by the Overseer of House Viperfang.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-04-26 00:25 EST
The arrival


She'd been checking the area making certain when the time came it would be secure. She had been pleasantly surprised to find angel and Esteban and greeted them relatively warmly, even rubbing her furred cheek against Angel's. It would have been a pleasant enough visit had Mercedes not chosen that moment to appear. She'd seen Angel and Esteban kissing and accused Angel of stealing him. The drama had only escalated from that point, despite Sadie's attempt of lightening the mood. The stress of the ensuing confrontation had an unexpected effect as Saphira found herself soon in pain as labor began.

Angel had quickly summoned Damien and Kish to the scene and with their help Esteban had opened a portal to the infirmary and taken her through. She was now in a bed rather than the den she had prepared and snarling through her pain. Kish was worried as Evahlys barked commands to her aides. "Towels, now! Kish you'll have to move. Stand at the head of the bed, not the foot." Kish moved with alacrity taking Saphira's clawed hand. "It's okay Saph, I'm here and mistress Evahlys knows what she's doing. "It hurts!" Saphira whined as another powerful contraction wracked her. "Shh, I know it does, but I promise everything is going to be okay.

Kish hated feeling so helpless as he watched the busy Evahlys prepare for the fast approaching birth. It was not long before the healing Mistress was lifting the sheet and checking her. "Good Gods they're coming fast! Where are those towels?!" Saphira howled, a sound that echoed through the halls of the school as pain ravaged her. Kish winced as well as she clenched his hand. He felt the bones crack under the strength of it but said nothing. He could wait.

"C'mon Saph, you're doin' fine." He soothed, brushing hair back from her face. Evahlys looked up at Kish with approval, impressed the lycan was not trying to kill him. "Alright, Saphira, I need you to push for me honey." Her voice was calm and confident. She had not given anything for pain as lycan healing abilities would easily negate the foreign substance but a quickly whispered charm helped ease it a little. "Take a deep breath and push." Encouragingly up to the girl. Kish's hand was throbbing in agony but he smiled through it."You can do it Saphira, you're strong I know you can do it."

It wasn't often he used her full name but he did now, even as worry and anxiety creased his young brow. Saphira took a shakey breath and bore down, sweating until her fur was matted down. The pain was dizzying but she kept pushing until she could not. Evahlys' voice reached her ears faintly. "Good, you're doing great. Breathe, Saphira. I can see the head, one more big push honey." Kish smiled down at Saphira. "You hear that? Your first baby is almost here. C'mon sweetheart, push!" Saphira bore down again howling in pain. Evahlys' voice was triumphant as the first baby emerged to be quickly swaddled and taken by a nurse to be cleaned up.

"Here's one, honey, breathe now, try and relax." "Relax?" Came the snarled voice, half mad with agony. Kish smoothed her fur. "She's trying to help you, Saphira. Breathe." He didn't know what else to do other than echo the mistress of healing's words. Saphira's grip on his crushed hand tightened again and he sucked his breath in through clenched teeth. "Good girl.." He gritted out. Another contraction had her roaring again and the command to push was repeated. "I..can't..!" She was exhausted and her eyes were glazed in pain. "Yes you can, now, push!" Saphira mustered the little remaining strength she had and pushed.

"Good girl! She's crowning! One more time, push for me!" Kish looked toward the foot of the bed in time to see Evahlys stand up and hand the second baby to a waiting nurse to be cleaned as well. Moments later Saphira passed the afterbirth as well. and Evahlys began cleaning her up. Two more attendants came to lift her into a fresh bed stripping the old one down to clean it. "You're a mother, Saph." Kish's voice was awed as the cleaned twins were brought back and given to her. Two beautiful white furred girls with scorpion tails and claws. "I'm..a mother..." Softly repeated. Kish's eyes were bright with unfallen tears. "You did great, Saph. They're beautiful, just like their mother."

The twins whined nuzzling up to nurse eliciting a surprised look from the exhausted lycan. "That's normal." Evahlys assured her. "They'll need to nurse frequently, so you might be a little sore at first but it will pass." "My..babies.." Looking at them in wonder. "They're not monsters..." "No, they're not." Kish replied. But they need names." He smiled to her kissing her gently. Any ideas? "Sadie...and Adora." Softly. My beautiful girls..." The twins soon had their fill and were sleeping tired from the ordeal of being born. Evahlys gently lifted them one at a time and placed them in a bassinet next to her bed. "They'll be fine here. You need to sleep now, to regain your strength." Her tone was gentle but firm.

She didn't have to worry Saphira would argue, the young mother was already passed out. Kish turned to Evahly and finally allowed himself to admit the pain. "She broke my hand."

((Thanks to Esteban, Angel, Sadie and Mercedes for being there to set this off))

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-04-26 16:27 EST
A Classroom of Abjuration

The erasers worked busily to scrub free the notes from her lecture, even as scrolls re-rolled themselves and tucked in nice tidy rows in the shelves nearby. A broom swept the floors between the desks and cleaned up the remnants of a few spells gone awry, the torn remnants of parchment a backlash to misread or miswritten spellcraft.

Amidst all this busy work she sat at her desk, the fine arch of the nape of her neck delicately exposed as she worked a feathered quill over the remaining stack of notations. She was seemingly unaware of the clean up she'd created, or at least unmindful and despite the gentle rustling noises she stiffened at the sound of a booted step. Lifting her head she sent a single buttery soft tendril of hair to tease the sensitive flesh of the side of her throat and she shivered. Though the compressed line of her lips revealed her consternation the sight of Blizzard Vaughn did much to change that expression, sumptuous lips turning her smile into a feast for the appreciative eye.

"Blizzard. To what do I owe this visit?"

His saunter drew her attention to drift in appreciation of that masculine body made magnetizing by the dip and bulge of muscles uncommon in most casters. His smile was boyish and charming, she couldn't help but note, as he strode up to her desk to assist her out of the seat and into his arms for an embrace of greeting, "Fleur."

For a moment they were content to simply feel each other. If there was a moment where she considered what it would be like to be his, it was to be expected, after all they had flirted with a relationship before both had become ensnared in meaninful connections with others.

"Fleur, I need your help."

She listened as he explained his newly encouraged desire to focus his studies.

"Well it's about time."

His startled laugh rumbled about her and she playfully smacked him, "I'm serious."

She continued: "I just don't understand what would make you strike someone who obviously had some rendition of stoneskin up."

"Well, obviously I didn't notice the spell."

"That's disgraceful. You're an abjurist you should've recognized such a simple spell was in place."

He looked offended and she almost softened before she looked to his broken hand again, "It's going to be difficult to work on extra casting when you can't even make the physical components."

He opened his mouth and she cut him off, "So, you'll focus on recognizing spells when they're at play. Your assignment, Novitiate Vaughn, is to take note of any and all abjuration spells you see when you're in the hallways. If you're unsure of what you're seeing, You Will Ask."

He blinked and began to offer up a protest, "Nah-uh." She shook her head before his argument could even begin to take off, "This will be good for you. I'll expect a full report tomorrow."

He shrugged a shoulder and cast an adorably sheepish expression her direction, "I'll try."

"No." She said firmly.

He blinked again.

"When you entered a ring, did your Father accept an 'I'll try'?"

The expression on his face shifted from his usual charming one to a more serious one at the mention of his father, "No."

"Then I won't either. It's about time you started treating this school and magic more seriously, Blizzard. You act like the classes are the ring and that's the only time you have to focus. But I'll guarantee you trained for hours outside of that ring. That you ate right, slept right, focused and spent all your free time getting better." She arched a brow.

"You're right."

"Well it's time to do the same here. And that's your Overseer talking."

She brushed her lips over his cheek and shooed him out despite his protests. She had work to do...

...as did he.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-04-27 23:52 EST
The ache in his hand hadn?t lessened any since being treated in the infirmary. Sure, Ashriel hadn?t used his magical healing gifts to do him any favors, but Blizzard was sure that it should have been feeling better since then. It didn?t. It hurt. It ached. It throbbed.

He went to see Fleur late in the afternoon, just after classes for the day came to an end. He wasn?t surprised to find her in her room finishing up with the day?s work. She was that sort of teacher. One who didn?t procrastinate or drag her work around with her. When she was a student, she was a student, and when she was a teacher she was a teacher. But when she was done, she was done. He could appreciate that.

Sometimes he had a hard time looking at her. They once shared a connection a half-step past friendship, but that quickly came to an end with the addition of Brais into her life. Still, he didn?t let times like this slip away without anything to show, and when she greeted him in her class he made certain to let their embrace linger long enough to ignite nostalgia.

Their banter was light, though obviously she was concerned with him. He went to her asking for help and in return she teased and taunted him, remaining lighthearted through it all. She brought up his father and what he expected of Blizzard in the ring, and while normally that thought hurt him somewhere deep inside, when she spoke of his father it was different. His father would have liked Fleur. Everyone did.

She challenged him to scour the school, watching all of the students who crossed his path in the interest of observing any abjuration spell they had erected. Felix had lured him in and he paid for it with a broken hand. Had he been able to recognize the magic emanating from the Viperfang Apprentice he might have taken a different course besides a right-cross.

If you aren?t giving everything then you aren?t giving anything. That?s what his dad used to tell him. That?s what he had to tell himself.

He departed Fleur?s classroom after another hug, this one lasting as long as the first and assisted by the whisper of lips in pleasant memory of times before. He started down the long hallway leading toward the Evocation Wing, nearly crashing into Chika Kokuri as she crossed through the intersecting corridor.

He caught her attention and her ire at the near collision, and yet he found something in her eye that revealed a hidden mirth. He observed her beyond the serpentine sensuality that radiated with her every move, recognizing the magic that sheathed her svelte body in an invisible sheen of arcana.

?Mage Armor?? He asked.

She arched a brow, gaze descending along the curvaceous face of her frame. ?Well done, want a cookie??

Her venomous tone was noted, as was the slight curl of her supple lips.

?Actually I?m good, if not a bit curious as to why you walk around the school with mage armor up??

?Why does anyone walk around with armor spells up?? Her look faded to a sour expression before she added. ?Protection.?

?From what??

?I don?t have time for this.? She hissed as she turned and brushed past him. ?I?ve got places to be.?

?But wait.? He said, reaching out to touch her arm. ?Protection from what??

She jerked away as though shocked by his touch, dark hair fanning out around her as she looked at him over her shoulder. The moment passed as did her expression of disbelief. She turned and again started away. ?I?m busy.? She snapped, following up with a slightly curbed tone. ?Keep up if you can.?

He moved up beside her and matched her stride. ?So what is so dangerous in this School that you feel compelled to walk around with mage armor up??

?I?m part of Viperfang, the Institute?s premier house. Envy and jealousy can spur others to outrage and I want to make sure I?m prepared.?

?That?s a little extreme, don?t you think??

?So says the guy who took a swing at a member of my house.? She glanced down at his wrapped fist, a smirk slashing those pretty lips. ?How?s your hand??

?Cute.? He shot back. ?And yet I don?t think you?re being completely honest.?

?Well, you?d be wrong. There are many different dangers that lurk everywhere; in the school, on the grounds, outside the walls. You never know when your adversary will strike, though often it is when you least expect it. Like here.? She paused outside the door to Master Tracha?s training ring. ?That is why I keep it up. Satisfied??

?I am.? He flashed a smile at her and slowly started to backpedal. ?Well thanks for the talk. Maybe tomorrow we can sit together in Illia Zio leli?s class and make friendship bracelets or something.? He threw in a wink to add to his rakish charm. ?Though don?t hold your breath. I?m not sure I like you yet.?

She said nothing, yanking the door open to disappear inside, and yet he was certain he found her slanted gaze cast in his direction just before the door completely closed.

He turned with a grin and started away, nearly shouldering into another student. His attention was drawn to her as he took note of the abjuration magic she used. It was some sort of barrier covering her, not unlike Chika?s mage armor spell, though he could tell by her shadow that it was different. Her shadow moved separately than she as though it were trying to keep up with her more than mirror her movements. He arched a brow as he watched her move away, his steps followed, at first slow and then quickly catching up to her. He put a hand on her slender shoulder. ?Hey.?

She startled, a small shriek given as she whirled around to stare at him with wide eyes and a small mouth in the shape of an ?o?.

He knew her. He had a class with her. Smout?n?s Necromancy.

Nemese Pausanias, Diviner and Apprentice of House Gorgonhorn.

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-04-28 00:47 EST
She still hadn?t said a word, staring at him as though he were a specter or demon or something other than just another student. Her pale skin seemed luminous against the darkness of the cloak enshrouding her spindly frame, blending in evenly with the alabaster hair silkily gathered upon her head.

?What is this?? Blizzard asked as he made a motion with both hands in her direction. ?This magic that you have on you??

With a sharp gasp she took a single step back, her thin fingers splayed across her breast to hold her breath inside. Her large eyes, framed by black mascara, flicked from side to side in search of any who might be spying this encounter, and when none were found she leaned forward and whispered. ?Why are you speaking to me??

The question caught Blizzard off guard, his brow arching upward. ?Um, a good question I guess. I noticed that you had this magic on you and I wanted to know what kind of spell it was.?

?Magic?? She said the word as though the entire idea was ludicrous, which was strange considering the school they attended. ?I don?t know what you speak of.?

?You don?t?? He said with a chuckle. ?Well, it?s pretty obvious. I?m an abjurist and can tell that you have some sort of abjuration magic surrounding you, but more than that, look at your shadow. You can see that you are moving one way and it?s moving another.?

Another gasp came as her eyes fell to the floor where her shadow lingered, standing in an irritated akimbo, unlike her. ?No!? She scoffed. ?I?? She was obviously searching for a lie of some sort and yet couldn?t come up with anything.

?It?s all right; I?ve just never seen anything like it.? He tilted his head. ?What is it??

?I?I can?t talk about it.? She said quietly with another quick look around. ?Not here.?

?Oh.? Blizzard nodded, taking her by the wrist and starting away. ?Alright.?

She made the strangest sounds as he dragged her through the hall, not possessing the strength to deny him. From behind the veil of her cloak the sight of her apprentice uniform flashed into view occasionally, though for the most part she did a great job hiding it.

Blizzard led her to his room and opened the door, guiding her inside and closing it in the same smooth motion. ?There you go.? He said as his fingers slipped away, leaving her at the door as he crossed the room for the small kitchenette he and Ozzie had set up. ?Have a seat.?

Frozen, her doe eyes carefully swept across the landscape of Blizzard?s chamber, both soaking in every detail and fearfully committing it all to memory. ?Wh?why did you bring me here??

He took a bottle of water from the fridge and turned to face her. ?Well, you said you couldn?t talk about the spell like maybe you weren?t allowed to talk about it in public so I figured I?d bring you back here.?

?But?but I don?t even know you.?

?You don?t? We?ve had Smout?n?s class for almost an entire semester. How can you not know me??

With her perusal of the room complete her eyes were once again on Blizzard. ?Aren?t you the guy with the harem??

He laughed, hard, and it echoed between the walls. ?Harem? No. I don?t have a Harem.?

?But aren?t you the guy who?s with a bunch of girls??

?No.? He said as he twisted off the top of the bottle and downed a swig. ?I?m in a relationship.?

?With more than one girl.?

?So?? He arched a brow. ?I?m in love with Ozzie and Xera. It?s a relationship.?

One foot slid forward and was followed by the other, crossing the room quietly to take a seat on the edge of the nearest bed. There were no couches or chairs and Nemese didn?t know where else to sit. She placed her thin fingers on her boney knees, her white flesh a glowing contrast compared to the black sheen of her hose. ?Oh. I thought that you were ?something else.?

?How about that spell?? He asked. ?What is it??

?It?s a combination of spells, abjuration and evocation. Me and my sister?? She clipped her explanation and then quickly corrected, ?My sister and I?created it.?

?Abjuration and evocation?? Blizzard stepped off the wall and moved to where she sat, lowering down beside her. ?Defensive and offensive? Isn?t that sort of impossible??

Before he could fully claim the spot beside her the shadow that lingered on the bed behind them surged forward and slammed into him with a tangible blow strong enough to jolt him from his spot. He landed upon the floor, squarely on his back side.

She stared at him with a knowing look and then slowly spread her chalky lips in a smile. ?Is it??

?Touch?.? He smirked as he pushed up and again tried to take a seat, eyeing the shadow with mischievous suspicion. ?It?s not going to do that again, is it??

?That depends on you.? She glanced over her shoulder to where the umbral image hovered. ?But for the most part I think you?re safe.?

?Excellent.? He chuckled. ?I want you to show me how you do that.?

?What??

?The spell. I want to know how to cast it. Will you show me?? As he asked the corner of his lips curled upward.

The thin white line above her left eye cambered slightly as she considered his question, responding in the only way she knew how based on a life wrought of give and take. ?What will you give me??

?Give you?? That chuckle took a step up to a full-blown chortle as he looked around his room, scarcely decorated as it was. It was pretty obvious that he didn?t have much. ?I don?t really have anything. I mean, I guess I could make out with you. I think that?s pretty much the only thing I have to offer.?

She blinked. ?What?!? It was a word, though it expelled on a sound that was more noise than vernacular. ?But?what about your?relationship??

He took another sip of the water and then nodded. ?Still here. I?m not asking you to be my girl, I just said we could make out.?

?We can?t do that. You?I mean, it?s not?we just?can?t.?

A realization came into his dark eyes and he slowly nodded at her. ?You?ve never made out with anyone before, have you??

Outrage filled her gaze and she turned away, those pale cheeks touched by a shade of red. ?I?who?I mean??

?It?s alright.? He replied, his gleeful voice slipping into a compassionate tone. He was more than up for having a good time but would never push or prod anyone into anything. It just wasn?t his style. ?We can always jus??

?Yes.? She said suddenly, snapping back around to face him. ?I want to make out with you, Blizzard Vaughn.?

?That was a quick turnaround.? He laughed. See, she knew his name. ?You sure??

?Of course I?m sure.? She said with an assured nod, even though the shiver in her eyes revealed vacillation. It seemed that she wasn?t making a decision as much as she was just jumping in headfirst.

He wasn?t going to make her stew on her choice, especially with the amount of anxiety and anticipation battling for dominance behind her dark eyes. His right arm slid around her slender waist and his left curled beneath her legs, a smooth flex of muscle easily lifting her from the bed to be placed his lap. She made mewling sounds that Blizzard thought were sweet and sexy, and as her lips parted in a startled gasp he leaned forward and covered them softly with his own.

The kiss was gentle at first with little motion, giving her time to dip her toes within the water. It didn?t take long, and soon her slim arms wreathed his neck and she parted her lips to introduce her tongue.

The magic of the following hours had little to do with spell craft.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-04-28 16:58 EST
(In Conjunction with Instincts and the Arrival)

She'd been in fairly good spirits for the last week. At least for her. Now that the air had been cleared between Albion and Saphira, she felt renewed.

Even the bombshell of her memory returning had not put much of a dampener on her spirits. In fact, she deliberately winked at Benedykt just an hour previous and had been awarded with his confused glower. Her reactions had never been what one would call particularly normal.

That morning she'd been restless. Agitated. But she was used to the feelings that poured from Saphira and had learned, to some degree, to filter them into more manageable portions.

However, none of her focus techniques had prepared her for the sudden onslaught of agony that dropped her to her knees in the middle of Evocation. One minute she'd been making her way up with her classmates to observe Tracha's technique when utilizing a spell intended for a large radius, and the next minute she'd doubled over and fell to her knees. The pained sound that had escaped her was muted as her mouth was already shifting through many changes in an instinctive attempt to protect herself.

Feathers, scales, fur, skin and more rippled in maniacal patterns as she gasped and moaned.

A hand grasped her elbow, a body hunched down protectively near her and a familiar voice muttered, "what in the hell is wrong with you?"

As far as helpful words it went they weren't the nicest and she glared at the icy perfection of Benedykt's face, her mouth a fanged maw that offered a hiss in answer.

"Seriously, what is it?"

And she realized that his question was sincere, a hint of something other than disdain?

It didn't matter she was rocketed with another roaring pain that tore through her midsection, "get. me. --" She couldn't finish and Benedykt didn't await the rest of it, assuming she wanted away from bystanders he swept her surprisingly lightweight body into his arms and stepped out into the hall, his grimace was a touch dramatic, but who was she to question in her current condition?

"Saphira. Get me to Saphira." She panted. No longer caring what he thought of her as she instead focused her thoughts on her bondmate and her pain. She wanted to help siphon the pain but they had never figured out how to do that.

They hadn't made it all the way to the infirmary when she arched in his arms and let loose a scream that echoed the howl pouring up from their intended destination. Panting, she subsided with a whimpered, "Saphira."

He left her at the infirmary door, a parting look delivered but unnoticed as her attention remained on what was going on inside. Weaving she stumbled inside, the wealth of emotions pouring around her and leaving her openly vulnerable: tears spilled unnoticed as she hugged Kish in a rare display of affection.

"They're beautiful!"

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-04-28 20:41 EST
Tasha's reading for Quillyan]

"That vampire child must've been taken care of,"?Grant's voice, flavored with sharp?humor,?emerged from the direction of the garden path, interrupting an assortment of quiet conversations, "because everyone knows that Bryn doesn't have her candlelight picnics unless she's feeling particularly happy about something."?
?
Across a spring-lush cover of grass, sumptuous blankets of exotic pattern had been spread across the ground, and upon these, silken pillows provided comfortable perches for the picnickers, who, surrounding a low table,?grazed lazily?from the spread of fruits and cakes?on gilded trays amid the ornate candelabras.? Grant paused to?absorb the scene - first his hostess,?settled daintily upon a plump purple cushion, her exquisite form regal, spine flawlessly straight and clad in a indecently low-cut frock of feminine lace -?then the others: Grail, shoeless and casual with an alarmingly?frail Margot sprawling beside him, head in his lap; Cinder across the table, adorned in somber hues, and several?other notable?persons from their illustrious?House Viperfang.
?
"Or perhaps," Grant?mused in faux contemplation, a sly smile infused through?his charming features,?"it's when she's horny."
??
Many?of the?gathered students,?including?the hostess, erupted into laughter, and Grant leaned down?to place a kiss upon her immaculate cheek.? "Good evening, my dear,"?he murmured affectionately, "Thank you for inviting me."?
?
"What's so funny?"
?
The demanding inquiry came from the path Grant had?so recently?traversed, for Felix had arrived, his hard eyes already scrutinizing the scene.? On his arm was a delicious little Viperfang novice, flushed with excitement.
?
Grant settled himself next to Bryn, turning his roguish smile to the arriving apprentice as Grail took the liberty of answering: "We're just speculating about what type of debauchery?our hostess?has planned for us this evening."
?
"Please," Bryn exclaimed in a playful scold, her lengthy lashes fluttering to coyly cover her colorless gaze,?"Let's not start any more rumors.? For months after the last one, Satyrkiss whispered that it all?devolved into an orgy."
?
"That hardly sounds like a devolution!" Grant protested, his gaze roving with lighthearted hunger over the women present, "In fact, I would argue that such an event would be an...evolution...of entertainment."
?
"And," interrupted Cinder, his brow lifted in wry observation, "Bryn has been working extremely hard to restore her virginal reputation, as evidenced by your painting, Grant."? He paused, adding a subdued sense of drama to the moment, "Oh, perhaps I'm mistaken.? You're displaying the one where she's naked, correct?"
?
With the exception of Felix, whose glower would not subside, they laughed again.? He and his date assumed seats beside Grail and the near-lifeless Margot.
?
"What's wrong with her?" Felix asked, indicating the female vampire. Criticism, rather than concern, was?implicit in his tone.
?
"She's fasting again," rang Bryn?from across the table.??While the pretty necromancer's gaze had pointedly avoided?the eyes of her fellow apprentice,?it was evident from her interruption that she wasn't ignoring him.? In fact, as her full attention shifted toward Felix, her voice was?a deliciously rich taunt: "She hasn't?eaten for many days.? By the end of this, she'll either achieve enlightenment or?murder another novice."
?
Margot merely looked between them,?her?dull, dark eyes wide with self-imposed pain.? Grail, impervious to - or perhaps delighting in - her suffering, ran a couple cold fingers between her breasts and down the middle of her stomach in a strange, clinical caress.
?
"Oh, I hope it's not me!" Felix's novice cried, using her contrived fear as an excuse to press pert curves again her escort?s side.
?
Bryn's eyes slid over to the girl, betraying not an ounce of emotion other than the glib sweetness that almost always characterized her expression.? She said nothing.
?
"So," Grant began, drawing Bryn's attention and refilling her wineglass, "Really Bryn, what's the occasion?"
?
"No occasion," she answered confidently, the flicker of the candlelight bathing her sensual features in wicked mystery. "Winter is over and the flowers are blooming."
?
"That's a disappointment," Grant returned, feigning distress as he raised his glass, "I really was hoping we'd have something to toast to."
?
Bryn lifted her glass as well, her plush lips pressing together as she sought something to celebrate.? Suddenly, her eyes widened, "I know!? We can toast to secrets.? I heard a perfectly devastating?rumor about one of the Stormsaber gingers that I cannot wait to share with a certain Miss Quillyan Daewen."

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-04-28 20:46 EST
"Wait, is it about Albion?" Grant's smile faded slightly.
?
"Mmhm." Bryn responded,?eyes narrowing in contemptible prediction.? "That obnoxious little Stormsucking - I mean Stormsaber -?couple is about to crumble."
?
Seeing Grant so peculiarly grave was strange; he lowered his wineglass, and his voice, though the other students were absorbed in their own conversations.
?
"Whatever it is, don't tell her," he implored quietly. "I need Quillyan and Albion to stay together."

Bryn?s amusement faded with alarming alacrity. ?Why?? she demanded, distastefully.

?Because,? Grant began, illuminating the situation with the quiet confidence of a born manipulator. ?Ms. Daewen is currently both my mentoree and my - err, assistant.? Knowing the word rang false, he spoke plainly. ?She?s completing about ninety percent of my classwork.?

?Why??

?Because, my dear,? he justified patiently, ?paintings take time. How many hours do you think I spent on that pretty portrait in the general magic hallway? Regardless, she?s doing my work because if she doesn?t, I?m going to go public with the fact that we slept together.?

?No!? Bryn squealed in delight, wildly amused by the luscious depravity of the situation. ?How did you manage that??

?I didn?t, not really.?

?Oh.? Bryn?s expression crumpled in predictable disappointment. Those lips, arranged in a pout, were an unnerving distraction.

?She just thinks I did,? Grant explained, finally taking a sip of the wine. ?Let me explain fully.?

?I met with Quillyan for the first time only because Headmistress Tanner required it. Quilly?s a very pretty girl, but to be honest, I?ve absolutely no interest in Stormsaber novices. Who wants that type of righteousness?? He scoffed. ?Anyway, I didn?t know what we were supposed to do together, so I read her some of my poetry, and the bitch drank my wine and fell asleep. Dead asleep.

"So I thought it would be funny if I whispered a little spell in her ear: one that would give her some very dirty ?memories? with yours truly.?

Grant?s grin was positively evil.

?I only intended for it to be a little prank, but she was so panicked when she woke up that it really kind of hurt my feelings. Would f**king me really be that bad??

He paused to garner the appropriate sympathy.

?But she was hysterical. So I thought - you know, I could use this situation to my advantage. I made a deal with her - she?d do all the things I didn?t have time for, and I?d keep our secret.?

Bryn, in amused awe, shook her head and muttered, ?Only a novice would fall for that charade.?

?True,? Grant conceded. ?But to be honest, I?m doing better this semester than the previous ones, so I?m not complaining.? He cleared his throat, returning his attention to his initial request. ?So you can see why it would be important for me that Albion and Quillyan stay together. If they split, I?m back to toiling over scrolls.?

Bryn sighed, a hint of theatricality in the exhalation. ?Alright. I?ll keep these secrets -- for now.?

?And that is why you?re my favorite Necromancer,? Grant exclaimed, more loudly, earning the attention of the other students.

?Thanks a lot,? Grail snapped dryly.

Grant smiled and raised his glass.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-04-28 21:09 EST
Awakening

She'd slept only a few hours, and thanks to her natural healing ability had recovered from the ordeal of giving birth while she slept. It was as though it had never happened, save she was no longer pregnant. She woke slowly, to a familiar and all too welcome voice, accompanied by the unmistakable feel of her bondmate. Her eyes fluttered open to drink in the sight of Mystri's tear streaked face as she was hugging Kish. Saphira smiled tiredly. "Hey...." Softly. "You got another one of those for me?"

She certainly was in good spirits, for having just gone through such traumatic agony, if not a touch tired still. Kish looked to her and winked to Mystri. "How bout it? Shall we let her have a hug?" He teased.

Alaric Granger

Date: 2011-04-29 12:10 EST
Locked Down (continued)

The child vampiress had provided the perfect distraction and he'd been lucky to be nearby when she'd burst through the kitchen doors. The trail of her dirty footprints and blood splattered passage was easily enough to follow to the door that apparently remained unguarded to allow for staff to exit when needed.

He had meant to meet his mentor, Danilo, but it would have to wait. He needed to find Nina.

Worry spurred him onward and fueled by the emotion he was able to successfully cast a version of Hasted Speed. Blurring through the trees, he moved as a supernatural being. It was the first time he'd ever truly used such a spell and as the exhilaration of the wind flashing past, the sweet burn of his muscles as he ran, and the pure thrill of such exertion filled him, he let loose a baritone yell that morphed with a chuckle.

He'd definitely have to do this again sometime (without the ever present worry of his sister).

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-04-29 15:49 EST
?I think that was a little more than making out.? Nemese said softly, her voice imprisoned within the quivering hold of fading elation. She stared up at the ceiling, dark eyes partially veiled by extremely heavy lids.

?I?ve always been an overachiever.? Blizzard responded as he rolled up to his knees beside her, hands resting upon his thighs. ?Besides, the details of what is and what isn?t making out are always so vague.?

The soft swell of her breasts rose and fell as she regained composure, swallowing away the weak mewls that kept invading her docile tone. Finally she slanted her eyes to him and shook her head. ?We shouldn?t have done that.?

?Relax.? He replied with a cool smile. ?It?s not like we did it.?

?Everything but. That might be an easy transition for you to make but I?m not exactly inclined to this sort of behavior.? Though she intended to sound stern she failed, the crackle of words passing by kiss-swollen lips. ?And you are in a relationship. Doesn?t that make this wrong??

Blizzard considered her words as he reached to the foot of the bed where his shirt lay in a puddle. Scooping it up, he laced his masculine arms through the sleeves. ?Me and Ozzie?s bond goes way beyond this sort of thing. I?m with her and she?s with me. It?s hard to explain, and I hope you don?t take this the wrong way, but there?s just no way anyone can encroach on what we have. I don?t? care if we made out a million times, nothing can come between Oz and me.?

Nemese would have responded it not caught up in the appealing lines of etched muscle peeking through the splayed crest of Blizzard?s shirt. Her fingers and teeth had burned a trail across them just minutes before and it seemed the memory of that overrode conscious thought. She laid there, her stare lurid and wistful.

?Nemese??

Her name rattled her from her mindless survey, snapping her gaze upward to meet his eyes as cheeks the color of vanilla suddenly stained pink with embarrassment. ?Yes??

?You alright??

Taking a moment to wonder the same thing, Nemese swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. The color to her cheeks darkened as she realized that her bra had been peeled away and under to expose her breast, and had she not positioned herself to keep her back to Blizzard, that color would have darkened more. After re-administering her undergarment properly, thin fingers quickly went to work refastening buttons to once more enclose her within her uniform top.

Blizzard sighed and rolled off the bed, coming to his feet as he collected his half-full bottle of water from the bedside stand. He glanced at her slight form momentarily over the shape of the bottle as he tipped it back and took a drink. ?So, let?s talk about that spell.? He thought that changing the subject might help her with whatever was bogging down her mind.

She stood and smoothed down her skirt, letting it swish languidly about her thighs as she took a few steps toward her things. She gathered them quickly, slinging her pack over an edged shoulder before turning around to level those dark eyes upon him. ?There are four parts.? She explained; her insipid features barely poignant. ?You?ve earned one.?

?I?ve earned one?? He chuckled as he took another swig of the water. ?So you want to make out with me three more times then??

She gently nibbled at her lip as she turned for the door and made her way toward it, stopping just when her hand fell to the knob. She watched her slight fingers roam over the brass bulb, not looking up. ?I haven?t decided. I?ll let you know.?

Again Blizzard chuckled as he watched her draw the door open, slip out, and pull it closed, and yet the sound seemed hollow inside the room. Suddenly he was alone, leashed to the whims of another.


~~**~~


Nemese quickly made her way to the Gorgonhorn Chapterhouse, bypassing the Gargoylesque sentinels that warded the massive doors with their looming intimidation. Within the compound the lines of architecture were no longer crisp and new, having faded some time ago with the eternal longevity of the Institute?s most persevering House, and yet the edifice still seemed to hold prominent power. How could it not?

She moved to the parlor, following the sounds of the piano that filled the corridors, and there she found the statuesque beauty of her sister, Thea, reclined demurely upon the antiquated chaise, one hand delicately holding a saucer as the other suspended a small cup just inches above it with a pair of fingers. The piano was just a few feet away, the keys beautiful strummed by a pair of severed hands that acted of their own accord. They were the tools of a Pausanias ancestor who had left them to Thea in his will, and while hands were probably not the normative heirloom to be handed down through generations, some families were just a bit different than others.

?Sister.? Nemese said as she crossed the room, the hard click of her heels echoing loudly against the marble floor.

With only her sharp eyes Thea regarded the arrival of her youngest sibling, sampling her drink momentarily before inclining her chin. ?Good afternoon, little Muse. Has your day been eventful??

Nemese moved beside Thea and slowly lowered to sit beside her, a rare move for the extremely shy Pausanias apprentice. ?Rather.? She said, swallowing hard before turning to fully face her. ?You?ll never guess where I?ve been all afternoon.?

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-04-29 16:55 EST
Evocation Dueling Rings - Tracha's Evocation

She sidestepped the whirling blades and threw out a slender hand to deflect the whip of fire that snapped afterwards.

Breath was difficult to find and she couldn't take a moment to fill her lungs as she dove to the side and landed hard.

"Do you submit, Earth Elementalist?" Gotha's voice rang out in the stillness of the air, his superior tones grating her nerves.

Her answer was to pound a small fist on the ground and send a rippling wave of earth to knock him from his feet. Grass carpeted his body quickly, flowered vines sending shooting tendrils upward to entangle his casting limbs even as he launched his throwing knife at her--no spell that one.

And no defense prepared.

A gasp went through the onlookers as the blade narrowly missed impaling her throat, the edge slicing through the delicate flesh all the same. Blood spilled and she narrowed golden eyes against the pain, digging her fingers into the dirt and urging her flowering carpet to bury the githyanki.

"Enough." Master Tracha's voice rang out and brought stillness as he strode forward, concern was an odd expression for a drow to wear and yet still he was not pleased by the blood spilt. "The win is Mage Arcanum's." He stepped over the mounded earth that was a furious Gotha and placed a hand to the bloodied flesh of the earth elementalist, "Good work, you advance to the next rounds. Now let's get you to the infirmary."

She was either silenced by the pain, or perhaps the shock of her win. Either way she could only offer a startled nod as she was assisted up by the graceful elegance of the Evocation Master.

"Alert Mistress Evahlys that an injured student is on their way." He nodded curtly to the Vaden who awaited his message. It's hissed scowl waiing for him to look away before it scampered off, "You." He pointed to a nearby novice, "see that she gets there."

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-04-29 19:26 EST
ViperFang Picnic

A pretty garden full of vicious blossoms, Chika showed none of her opinion upon her face. Unreadable, she moved into the soft grass, slipping free of the shoes as she did so.

At the head of the gathering, the hostess sat as a chilled dagger, beautiful and most certainly lethal. Chika offered her the nod of respect, her own raspy voice joining the camaraderie, "Bargaining for secret keeping are we?"

Somehow she managed to make that question seem personal and intimate for all gathered and a level of amusement dipped slightly.

"Why, did you have some secrets you wished to share?" Grant challenged quite charmingly.

"I think, perhaps, we'd all be most amused to hear each other's secrets," Margot intoned listlessly.

"You have none." Grail replied to the limp vampiress, eliciting laughter from those assembled though the brush of his hand through her hair was surprisingly gentle.

Chika let the idle amusement wash away the tension as she moved within the secluded glitter of the candles. Her gaze sought Ashriel...or it would be Iameth at this late hour would it not? She'd lost track of time in her hurry to make it back from her most recent excursion.

She lowered beside Bryn, "I do have a secret that may empower the House." Lazily she reached for a strawberry and drew it from its brethren, her eyes upon the juicy red berry. "Tiatari is f*****g Marius Mistmark." As the words lingered in the air she sunk her teeth within the fruit as she imagined it raw bloody meat.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-04-30 13:13 EST
Midnight Picnic -- ViperFang


?Now this is what I like to see.? Iameth said as he watched Grant lift his glass, followed in tow by the others. ?Toasting to the success of the Institute?s Strongest House. Bravo.?

With a languid saunter the Jikininki Sorcerer made his way across the lush grass toward where the others were gathered. Entrenched in the sable hue of silk shirt and leather breeches, Iameth?s amethyst flesh glimmered with exotic luminous, accentuated by the swirling design of infernal sigils. As always, he was relaxed and composed ? a deadly combination of conflicting expressions. Carefree meticulousness, if you will.

Grant?s incessant charm was impervious to the sudden arrival, and in stride with his cheer he turned that raised glass toward Iameth?s approach. ?Success that is otherwise unobtainable without brilliant leadership.?

?The potency of such a silver tongue explains why our house lacks Lycanthropes.? The Sorcerer replied as he stepped through the masses, rounding the table for where Bryn sat, his hands falling to her slender shoulders as he loomed above, eyes roaming those opposed to her position. ?Seems we?re still missing a few.?

?Some have still yet to arrive.? Felix replied curtly.

Iameth recognized the sense of possessiveness emanating from Felix, even though the Apprentice sat at the side of one who was presumably his escort to the picnic, and was certain that it had something to do with his proximity to Bryn. With that in mind, he bent at the waist and lightly brushed his purple lips across her temple. ?A well timed event.? He chimed before rising fully erect, pulling away and motioning in the direction he had arrived from. ?You all know the Hawthorne twins, I?m assuming.?

Hand in hand the identical novitiate?s stood just outside the ring of House Members, uncertain as to what length their welcome extended. Isabel and Arabel were the daughters of rather wealthy parents who surrendered an exorbitant levy to ensure acceptance within the Institute. They had made their mark on the school by being in attendance at every single celebration and bash Vliss Arcanum threw, garnering the title of the V.I.T. (Very Important Twins). Times had changed it seemed, as now they accompanied Iameth, their uniform tops parted to reveal the firm, lacy hold of delicate underthings and throats marred by teeth; skin and collars coated with dried blood.

Iameth leaned across the table to capture a sprig of grapes between finger and thumb, his other hand falling to stroke the cheek of Margot with the backs of bent fingers. He was seemingly unbothered by her position upon Grail?s lap, though the necromancer was suddenly rigid as the vampire rolled into the Sorcerer?s touch, kneading the sensitive junction of his thighs with the back of her head. ?Who else are we missing?? Iameth asked as he looked around, popping one of the bulbs in his mouth to be masticated between deadly fangs.

?Cadence.? Cinder answered in time, obviously a thought that he had already processed. ?She has been busy with the Shanachie Theater and may be unavailable to join us.?

?Is that right?? Grant pondered between sips of his wine. ?Keeping tabs on the resident bard, Cinder??

?I like to know the whereabouts of all our House Members. It makes vital things such as communication easier.? The Vampire replied in an even tone, not willing to tip his hat at whatever advantage such knowledge produced.

?Well said.? Iameth praised his lieutenant, though his attention was splintered as he caught sight of Chika. The Asiatic eroticism of the cambion always drew his lingering appreciation no matter the circumstance, including picnics. Another fluid careen brought lips to flesh, though this time they did not greet the temple as they had with Bryn, but the side of the neck in a burning graze that traveled the length of her external jugular vein. How he had loved to feed from that well. Fleeting, the caress vanished as quickly as it arrived. ?Rumor and gossip, is that the epicenter of our congregation? I?m not surprised seeing as how such rhetoric is in constant motion, swelling and dispelling as surely as the waves do in the ocean.?

?It is the fuel that keeps the fire going.? Grant said from over the rim of his wine glass, ignoring the Hawthorne twins who were doing a terrible job at subtly trying to gain his attention. They may have been Iameth?s current delicacy but they were still young women, and most young women were eager to get Grant?s devotion in any form.

?Absolutely, and such a fitting analogy to boot considering the one comparison both fire and gossip share is the burn left upon those they touch.? Iameth plucked each grape from the sprig and one by one devoured them until finished. He moved to where the pillows and blankets had been spread, just off to the side of the others who sat at the table, and crumpled to the cushiony expanse in a fluid fall of purple sinew, the flex of reptilian wings catching him in the momentary embrace of a protective shell. ?Such a fitting time to discuss the dynamics of the upcoming Masquerade Ball, though before that, let?s hear a bit more about our beloved Primorious Discipulus? extracurricular activity, eh Chika??

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-04-30 18:46 EST

Mercedes watched the babies being born, that was cool. she stayed out of way. she was forced being here. she moves where she could wash the filth from her hair and face. not saying a word to Saphira. her skin is back being ice cold, but she couldn't tell it. she changed out of dirty clothes and moves back to her bed. -d-

Evahlys finished up with the birthing, leaving additional cleanup to the other attendants and washed her hands. She then turned a critical eyes to Mercedes:: And how are we feeling, then, Mercedes? ::Frowning:: You were supposed to be resting under Sartha's care, not wandering about.

"I feeling fine, my lady." Mercedes moves away from the shadows. she glanced at the babies. "they are unique, aren't they?" she had books from her stay. she knew she was going back on bed rest and having the two enchanted stones close to her. -d-

Indeed they are. Do not change the subject. You are obviously unwell, :she reached to take the girl's hand her frown growing deeper:: You are cold as death, and paler than is healthy for a girl your age. And you look as though you have been wallowing about in the dirt. ::Noting some of the filth Mercedes had missed in her attempts to clean herself up.:: Not to mention your sudden aversion to anything that casts a shadow. ::Releasing her hand:: Have you been sleeping?

"I have been sleeping in a cave. or try to. some times I cast a spell to help me sleep." Mercedes bitted down on her bottom lip. she does look tired, "I feel tired and hungry too." she admitted.

That is unacceptable, Mercedes. :She turned abruptly moving swiftly to a locked cabinet. she murmured a spell to unlock it and searched through the various bottles, finally removing a small vial that glowed a gentle violet. She returned to Mercedes' bedside.:: I want you to take this sleeping potion tonight. Drink the entire thing and go directly to bed thereafter. It will take effect within five minutes of consumption so I highly suggest you ready yourself for bed before taking it. You will sleep the entire night, and likely well into the day, but by the looks of you it's much needed.

"can I go and get some food?" Mercedes?s stomach was growling. her blue eyes looks to the older woman. she wanted to go soak in the tub. "am I in trouble with the head mistress too?" she asked softly, she wanted her bed too. she didn't like this place,

I have not spoken with the headmistress, so the only way you'll know is if she speaks with you directly. As far as food is concerned, go eat. You need to eat, it will help you to sleep better if you are full. I would also suggest you clean yourself up more thoroughly as your smell is offensive. You smell as though you have not cleaned yourself properly on weeks. And procure new garments, those have about had it. Honestly, I don't know what has gotten in to you. :he turned to an aide hurrying by:: Fetch Sartha for me please. :sternly::

Mercedes jumps when the shadow come closer to her, she didn't want to say she heard voices too. her blue eyes glanced back at Saphira. then she heard the hooves of the minotaur, Sarta, she moves to pick up the stone before. she wanted to get some books. she left one book in the cave, her own spell book. -d-

Evahlys shook her head:: No studying or spell casting either. I'm not sure what's going on with you yet, but I do not want to risk any backlash. This does not seem to be an ordinary ailment. Your friends have told me you were delusional as well. Perhaps it is lack of sleep, but we will know more after you have rested. :: She turned to Sartha:: Escort her to the cafeteria then directly to her dorm. No detours. Mercedes. ::Turning back to the girl:: I want you to report back here to me tomorrow evening. I will write you an excuse to miss classes you may have for tomorrow. If you should fail to appear I will speak to the headmistress myself and you will be brought. Do you understand?

"so I can stay in my bed?" Mercedes asked softly. she bitted down on her bottom lip. she smooth along her dirty pants. her blue eyes looks to her and sarta. she was glad she didn't have to sleep here. but not happy to be missing her classes.

You may. But should you so much as stray from your room other than to eat or see me, you will report to the headmistress' office. Sartha? ::The minotaur snorted irritated:: -s- Let's get this over with, I have things to do. ::Came the gruff growl::

Mercedes moves toward the cafeteria. she bite down and tried to hurry along the stuff. her blue eyes looks around, not saying anything. she bite down on her bottom lip. a bubble bath will be good, she will use some of Angel's. -d-

Thanks to howling moon mun in playing the Evahlys and Sartha. <3

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-05-02 21:57 EST


?One would think,? Bryn?s voice meandered through the words, the guise of innocent curiosity masking the viciousness of her rumor-fueled observation, ?that Tiatari?s association with Master Mistmark would be troubling for other members of her house.?

She paused, subdued gratification tugging the corners of her comely mouth, though her eyes never fully adopted the expression: they remained largely blank - a deficit easily masked by the dim illumination of the gathering.

?Sorceress Rousseau, for example,? she continued, the artful curve of her fine brow lifted in malicious inquiry.

The young necromancer rose to her knees, leaning over the low table to retrieve the wine, her fragile figure stretching with feline fluency across the delicacy-cluttered surface. As she straightened, a lithe and long arm trembled with the considerable weight of the generous bottle, yet Grant, his attention still primarily upon the Overseer, merely held out his glass to her in a wordless and rather brisk request. Unflustered, the hostess complied, replenishing his glass nearly to the brim. This was followed by the filling of her own glass, and an unused one, which she plucked from the table and delivered to the enticing cambion with merry efficiency.

?Wine, Chika?? said she, her tone pitched midway between a question and a statement. Colorless eyes roamed briefly over the primal temptation of the other woman; of all of members of House Viperfang, she was one of the least familiar, and Bryn found herself ravenously curious. ?Enjoy,? she purred, pushing the full glass closer.

?Wine, Sorcerer?? she offered, her attention shifting to where their Overseer reclined. For the astute apprentice, both Ashriel and Iameth provoked respect and interest, for hers was a restrained fascination that was partially intellectual and partially ambitious. Her scholarly concern was aroused by the impossibly cruel reality of two very different creatures sharing the same flesh, while her desire for success studied the actions of the Overseers, seeking insights into leadership at the Institute. In her assessment, Cinder would eventually assume the Overseer position of House Viperfang, and he would ultimately be succeeded by one of her class. As it currently stood, she figured herself one of the most accomplished of her rank - in fact, her only real competition was sitting right across from her.

Felix.

Her gaze flickered momentarily over to him, the smile still haunting her familiar mouth. As his date placed desperate little kisses along the side of his neck, his eyes were fixed across the table, upon her, with uncompromising darkness.

Something unspoken, violent and lustful, transcended this briefest glance.

?Wine, Sorcerer?? she repeated as she pulled her attention back to Iameth, laughter coloring her words in scandalous felicity. ?Or have you already had your fill tonight??

An elegant hand tossed loose chocolate locks over her bare shoulder as she turned toward the Hawthorne twins and chided playfully, ?Girls, I hope you didn?t spoil his appetite.?

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-05-02 23:43 EST
Den life

Evahlys had been satisfied Saphira was well recovered shortly after the birth of the twins and had allowed her to go. Saphira had been pleased and asked Kish to help her take the girls to the den she had originally planned to birth in. Kish Held Sadie gingerly, cradling her as though afraid he would break the infant. The deadly scorpion's sting had been expertly wrapped and neutralized by Evahlys to ensure there were no accidents. Infants they may be, but those stingers were deadly already. "She won't break, Kish." Came the gentle voice of Saphira. He blinked a moment before looking at her. She missed the strange flicker of darkness in his eyes as she tended to Adora. The darkness lurking within him well aware of what was taking place and silently absorbing any and all information Lord Arkon might need or find useful. "Oh, yeah she's just, so tiny." He finally responded.

Saphira cradled Adora and moved to kiss him. "Give it time, she'll soon grow." She was adjusting swiftly to motherhood and it showed. She turned for the door, Kish following closely behind with Sadie sleeping peacefully in his arms. Saphira led him through the grounds and into of all places Vesper's woods. Perhaps there was something in Zenobia that found it comfortable here, so close to the place where this had started. The den was not far from where the Denubae's pit had been and she led Kish through the maze of tunnels to the furthest chamber. Surprisingly it was large, dry and smelled pleasantly of ferns and growing things. The walls were illuminated by a softly glowing fungus growing near the ceiling. There was plenty of room to stand without stooping and to move about.

"I'm impressed, Saph. This is nice." He had expected the den to be a dirty hole in the ground and had harbored some reluctance to bringing newborns here at all, But Saphira had insisted she wanted privacy away from the other students for a while at least at first. She smiled as she settled her daughter down on a blanket she'd taken from the school linen closet. Kish followed suit laying Sadie next to her sister. Whatever it was lurking within him took careful note of the location of the den and even how to navigate the labyrinth without him having a clue it was doing so. "What, did you think it would be a dirty hole in the ground?" Reading his thoughts. He looked a little surprised. "Hey I thought you were going to stop doing that!" He protested. "Doing what?" She asked sweetly. She knew very well what but she was teasing him.

Instead of giving her the satisfaction he shrugged and looked down at the girls. "You guys gonna be alright here? What about food?" "We'll be fine, Kish. don't worry so much. Nobody else knows where we are or even how to get through. I also charmed the passages so that anyone without permission to enter will end up lost. It's a simple re-directional spell that will turn them around or displace their location. Simple, but effective." This tidbit was also tucked away for Lord Arkon. "Well, alright. But I'm going to come check on you. I don't want anything to happen to any of you. Especially the girls." Looking down at them with as much concern as though they were his own feeling a surge of protectiveness rise within his breast. "I love you." "I love you too, but you'd better get back before you're missed. And please, make sure nobody sees you come here." She kissed him. "We'll be fine, I promise."

"Alright Saph. but let me know if you need anything Got it?" "I will. Oh and look after Lune would you? He doesn't like enclosed areas so I told him to stay with you or Mystri." "You got it." With that he turned threading his way out of the den and heading back to the grounds. The next week was uneventful, and the twins grew rapidly. Soon their eyes were open and they were crawling around the den fairly well. Saphira hunted when they slept, and often the three of them would sleep together in lupine form in much the manner of a normal pack of wolves. Save those tails and wicked claws. Soon she would take them on their first outing. During that week Kish visited faithfully, bringing toys, fresh bedding and taking away the old. The twins particularly loved when he stayed for a nap, piling onto him as they often did with their mother. So it was the week passed in blissful serenity.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-05-04 22:01 EST
Twilight Isle

"Walk with me?" She'd queried and Blizzard had been quick to respond with a nod. Somewhere along the way he'd become her confidant, her friend, and her trusted companion. But how did she explain the mounting frustration, tears, angst, and venomous anger that had her on edge? She'd meant to come to the Dueling rings to work with him on his Abjuration and yet she was distraught by today's events.

Events she couldn't share.

Didn't dare share.

But perhaps...Blizzard. He'd never judged. He'd never told a soul of her indiscretions.

Shame was a hard emotion to escape and no amount of mental scrubbing could get her free of it.

"I'm a fool." She fought the bitter bite of tears that welled in her eyes at the admission. Her gullibility the most galling part of the entire ordeal. She sank down into the sand and ran her fingers through the soft grains as she kept her eyes trained on the ocean waves.

"Vliss was injured today...and Ashriel..."

She tried not to stutter or stop too much in her telling. Remembering the incandescent presence of the charismatic fallen angel she played back his words and couldn't help but question his motives. Had he deliberately set her up? Was it part of Viperfang's plan? But even as she relayed their conversation to Blizzard she found herself unable to pinpoint any moment of foreshadowing.

It was later, in the chambers of Vliss and her newfound roommates that she'd fallen prey to her own stupidity. Her own self doubt. Her own monumental gullibility. Haltingly she shared her first meeting with Iameth and how easily he had played her...a simple hint there. Another there.

Why was she teaching Evocation? She was an abjurist...and a good one at that. Did Samcenu Tracha truly choose her based upon her ability...or was it something else?

She choked up here, almost unable to continue. Thankful for Blizzard's comforting arms and nonjudgmental gaze. He remained quiet. Carefully so, allowing her to share without prodding.

"Like a fool. A stupid little girl. I found myself unable to leave it alone. I needed to speak with Master Tracha about Vliss' injuries in his Evocation ring, so I went there and I've always gotten along so well with him. He's ...he.. I.. I asked him." She tightened her grip on Blizzard's muscled forearms as she choked on the words. "He was furious. He's a drow Blizzard, and he's so fierce when he's angered. And he felt that I was questioning his motives, that I was.. I was accusing him of..."

She moaned and buried her face in his throat, clutching his chest for support as she sobbed.

Blizzard's consoling words, "I'm sure if you spoke with him again, he'd understand Fleur, it's--"

"No! It's so much worse than that now!" She coughed on a sob.

The memory surged hot and fierce.

*********

The enigmatic features of the Master of Evocation gave nothing away for a moment as he stared down at the piquant beauty of his favored student. And then something altered, a fierceness that revealed his drow lineage as his hands lashed out and grasped her arms. He shook her. Shook her hard. His teeth bared in a vicious scowl as he demanded, "You question me?"

Fright bloomed bright as Fleur Rousseau watched the transformation of one of her favorite teachers, her foolish questions hanging in the air about them like soured fruit, "No, n-no Master Tracha I'm--"

"You're what? Fleur? You think that because you're so beautiful that any interest in you has to be about your body?" He snarled and shook her hard enough to send her hair spilling free from the clasps that held it. "Do you honestly think I'd elevate you over a more worthy student because I wanted--" He growled and one hand grasped her hip painfully and slammed her body up against his, "What? Is this what I am supposed to be overwhelmed by? Blinded by?"

His anger was explosive and the proportion of it had her flustered past sense. Tears spilled as she weakly struggled, apologies streaming forth from her lips in a litany of self-flagellation. "Please, Master Tracha, Please, I'm so sorry, I'm such a fool, I meant nothing--"

He was blistering the air with drow curses. She recognized little of his words, only something about women being all the same. Abruptly she was twisted around, bent over his desk. Her skirt was yanked up, her undergarments pulled down. So shocked by it she could voice no protest, she squirmed against the pinning hand against the small of her back.

Still cursing in drow, the first hard smack of his hand against her naked ass had her gasping out what little air she'd managed to steal. The loud CRACK of flesh seemed startlingly loud. She froze. No longer struggling.

Shock filled her.

The second dominating strike sent her back into motion as her head tossed back and she cried out, "Master Tracha!" Shocked dismay edged with pain.

The blows came in quick succession then and she could hear his ragged breathing as she soon succumbed to her punishment. Limply she draped across his desk as he delivered each swat with decided force. She lost count of the number of spankings. The fiery sensation of her bottom becoming her focus. She could only wonder at how red her skin must be.

Just as abruptly as they'd began. They stopped.

The hand that had set upon the small of her back, imprisoning her there for his ministrations, now slid over the rounded swell of her hip and tentatively traced the crimson handiwork.

His breathing was rough. His hand gentle.

He stroked her as if he could wipe away the sign of his transgression.

And Fleur was shocked to discover her own reaction. Her thighs quivered. Her breathing hitched on what would've definitely had been a moan.

As if he sensed her reaction she felt him press nearer. Could sense his masculine presence hovering over her bent form. Almost...

...and then he simply muttered, "Vith."

She didn't hear his silent steps depart. But the closing of the classroom door alerted her to her sudden solitary exposure.

**************

As she choked out the end, she tilted her head back in the twilight to look up at Blizzard, "I don't know how I'm ever going to face him again."

And because it was far easier to focus her anger on something other than her own shameful behavior, "Damn Viperfang! Damn Iameth for playing me! I will get him back for this!"

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-05-05 07:35 EST
He listened. It?s not that he didn?t have any advice to offer, but he could tell that Fleur had a swell of guilt and other emotions building up inside of her and it seemed that getting them out was her only priority. With her nestled upon his lap, masculine arms wreathing the supple curves of her recumbent frame, he held her close and offered the crook of his neck for her face to be buried within. Soft sounds slipped past closed lips, brushing warm breath against her skin to soothe the somber ache expelled from her sensual mouth. She quivered inside his arms, prompting him to secure her further.

The description of the confrontation with Master Tracha drew his attention, and as the details unfolded his supportive embrace of her dwindled to simply a startled hold. He couldn?t believe what she was telling him or the reaction of the Drow Master of Evocation. Spanking her? He wanted to laugh from the absurdity of it, from the awkwardness of the occurrence. How humiliated he figured Fleur must have been, that is, until she explained of the small tinge of pleasure she received from his open palm, in which humiliation turned into betrayal of the body.

He swallowed the tightness that constricted his throat when she leaned back and brushed away some of the pale silken hair that veiled her midnight eyes, searching their depths for some sort of answer that might alleviate this degradation that consumed her.

?You don?t have to do anything.? Blizzard finally said. ?I know it probably seems like the whole world is looking at you but you are the only one who knows about this, and as long as you keep your chin up no one will suspect a thing. My dad used to tell me that when you?re in the ring you?re going to get hurt. You?re going to take a punch that really rocks you. The key is not letting your opponent know that you?re hurt. Keep your head and hands up and your shoulders strong. The minute an opponent knows you?re hurt; he?s going to be on you, pounding that hurt with even more damage until you fall or surrender. This is sort of the same thing. You should go to Master Tracha?s class as though nothing happened. Continue on with your day, keeping your pain quiet. Same with Iameth. If he?s done something behind the scenes to try and pull little puppet strings, you can?t let him know that he?s gotten to you. In fact, the next time you run into him, you might even thank him. Let him know that he really helped you clear some things up.? He paused, tilting his head to offer a smile of hope and strength. ?Take back the power.?

Ilyona

Date: 2011-05-05 17:17 EST
Insinuations

Rumor could be a powerful tool if you allowed it to gain a foothold. She was noticing the whispering words flowing through her classes about her and a certain Overseer.

Very well played, Iameth...

She might be impressed, but she grew up with such intrigue and manipulations. She had cultivated a very proper mask. She was only a novice and therefore had to walk a careful line in refuting such rumors. Especially involving an upper classman.

She was deep in thought on her way to the medical ward for her session with Mage Korzha. She had to endure the presence of Ashriel during the sessions, which proved to be very informative in and of themselves proved to be informative. Certainly re-enforced the teaching of her mother and her sister. It helped that the Simba was also in her House, giving her a bit of a reprieve.

"Novice Albaelia," Came the growly rebuke. "Your mind wanders again. Those rumors?"

The blonde half-elf gave a bit of a smile to the Simba. "Yes. Seems that scandal follows my name, even when it is false." The tone was well amused.

"It is the price of rank." The Simbra rumbled, "False you say?"

"Oh very. I have to wonder at the level of desperation of the source of such a rumor in linking my name to the Sorcerer's? After all, He has never approached me to press any suit and I would not have accepted in any event. Highly... Desperate."

"In any event, You need to focus on you lessons."

"Yes, Mage Korzha."

Engarde...

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-05-05 17:28 EST
An Aunt Made

She was surprisingly quite willing to step in and watch the girls anytime Kish wasn't available.

Of course she only discovered this after she'd been sitting in a study hall trying to pinpoint the reason for her growing anxiety. Without consciously thinking about it she simply packed up her stuff and headed toward Saphira's.

By the time her bondmate returned from whatever had demanded her attention elsewhere, Mystri and the girls were curled up in a pile of snow, or engaging in some kind of intense stare-off. Just once, Kish could've sworn he'd heard Mystri singing to them but the pure angelic tones could not have been the shapeshifter's?

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-05-07 17:57 EST
{Viperfang Picnic}


Isabel and Arabel alike delivered a mirrored expression of admonishment in Bryn?s direction, a smile coiled around a sneer. The pretty little necromancer was not unknown to them and it was simple nature to observe her in a light deemed appropriate for one they considered competition in the claim of Iameth?s attention. Still just outside the wreath of Viperfang affiliates, they stood in silence, waiting.

?Absolutely.? The Overseer replied in regards to the offered glass of wine. ?How could I resist?? Comfortably reclined, he made no move to meet Bryn; confident that she would deliver the contribution to him. With wings unfurled and his left arm curled behind his head, resting comfortably on the globular bulge of his bicep, fiendish eyes roamed over all those gathered in momentary scrutiny. Each of them had strengths and each had flaws, though for the most part those assembled were powerful in their own right. It was fitting that Viperfang was the Institute?s most prominent house and yet that wasn?t enough. Stormsabre was on their heels, barking like bothersome dogs as far as he was concerned. Dogs that needed to be caged.

?There is no need to concern yourself with Fleur Rousseau. The Sorceress is currently?occupied.? The foreboding suggestion was heightened by the narrowing of his gaze, confirming the suggestion of clandestine scheming. ?However, there are plenty of others who should garner attention. My roommates, to start with. It seems that Vliss and Damien are suffering from a rather tragic love story. Two souls entwined passionately and yet lacking the most intimate of coupling due to the curse Vliss forsakenly endures thanks to one Brais Galician.?

?Heartbreaking.? Felix said dryly, seemingly immune to the feathery affection showered upon him by his chosen muse. ?And yet?forgettable.?

Iameth looked thoughtful, the supple coil of graceful limbs sending muscle rippling beneath the silken darkness of his shirt. ?Perhaps. And yet, I believe I have an alternative that might procure the most vital of favors from the son of the institute?s Headmistress. It all comes down to a simple question: To what length will one go to obtain what the heart truly desires??

?And how do you plan on going about that?? Margot asked, her lips barely seen from her spot upon Grails lap. He had tried to tempt her with fruit, though to the undead it was sordid offal.

?Worry not, my dear. I?ll handle all the specifics.?

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-05-08 23:44 EST
The Vaden scurried free from Chamber Calendula with a flash of yellowed teeth that could only be described as gleeful.

The hairbrush clutched in its greedy little paws seemed innocuous enough...

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-05-09 20:09 EST
Something wasn't right.
?
Quillyan's brow knit in vexation as she read and reread her notes, the flawless azure of her gaze tripping across lines of?fastidious scrawl, struggling for resolution to the spell dissection that had devoured?her previous days.? Hours surrendered to the?stately gloom of the library had yielded much information and some answers, but the pieces still fit imperfectly.? An essential element of the spell composition theory?continued to?elude her, and she sensed that it was much simpler than the complex solutions she had crafted while working backwards through the process.
?
Exhausted frustration gnawed at her patience, and that pair of?plump lips pressed tightly to arrest the string of profanities tempting her tongue.? Fucking Grant. She?imagined?the ViperFang apprentice?lazily lounging somewhere - even bored perhaps - as she sacrificed both?sleep and society to toil over his assignments.? Certainly, if she'd attended?Mistmark's more advanced?lecture, the one?in which he was enrolled,?this assignment would doubtlessly be more manageable, but such a shift in procedure would inaugurate a host of new problems, for she wasn't prepared to explain to Master Mistmark - or anyone else - why such an action was necessary.
?
?"This little exercise?? It's nothing,"?Grant soothed with an abrupt smirk, eager to silence her?protest.? "A?clever girl like you, Quilly --?you'll pick it up?in?no time."
?
"I don't know anything about this type of spell," she countered sullenly.? "Don't you at least have some notes... or something?"
?
"Notes?"?his?compelling laughter?graced?air in genuine amusement. "I never take notes."? The novice's eyes narrowed upon him, as if she could strike him dead?with the unmitigated force of her malicious will, but she spoke not.? "Don't look so upset, my dear," he continued, gripping the curve of her chin affectionately between his thumb and forefinger. "Challenge is good for you, right?? Give us a smile?"
?
Quillyan cursed him venomously and yanked her head away, lengthy limbs tensing in sudden defensiveness.
?
"Suit yourself," he hissed, a cruel smile tilting his seductive mouth, "just get it finished by the end of the week.? I'd hate for the gossip winds to find out that you're a faithless slut who whores herself?out for?a couple of simple rhymes.? It'd no doubt scandalize that pathetic little house of yours."
?
Again she?retraced the papers detailing her progress, her forlorn?obsession?sensing?a?solution just beyond?cognizance.??With a couple of weary, dull blinks,?she acknowledged?the possibility that?fatigue, more than anything else, concealed her answers.? An hour of sleep last night, two the night before, and everything seemed despairingly fuzzy.?
?
But the afternoon sky was pristine blue, the spring air sweetly scented with new blooms.? Perhaps a walk would enliven her wit; and indeed, even as she gathered and ordered her notes, her meditation regarded the grand irony of her situation in gloomy humor.

In a school full of masterful sorcerers, she sought answers from books. Bothersome, bewildering books.

At least they were discreet.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-05-10 20:14 EST
The Institute's main building certainly tended toward shadow, either by design or development - even the brightest afternoons couldn't fully vanquish the many shades that curled comfortably in?its corners and corridors.??Therefore, when Quillyan stepped outside,?she blinked fiercely against?the onslaught of excessive sunlight as her eyes adjusted. With only the briefest stumble of hesitation, the intrepid novice's idle gait continued along the stone-paved path, meandering in the direction of Shah Gardens.
?
It helped to walk - it seemed to focus her thoughts.? Though she kept her notes pressed against her chest, under the protective fold of her arms, her mind replayed the lines memorized by a hundred repetitions and revisions.??Her?eyes flittered across the wide and vibrantly-green lawn, to Vesper?s Forest and Glen beyond, but she did not truly see them, as her obsessive nature diverted innate talents of observation and appreciation elsewhere.?
?
When she finally?found herself amid the Gardens, she unceremoniously plopped down upon the fresh grass, extending her lengthy legs along the soft blades. Having exchanged the silken winter skin of the IAP uniform tights for ivory knee socks, her thighs were left bare, and her flesh, on the whole,?was still perfectly?fair.??Fine for the winter, but unacceptable now.? Setting her work momentarily aside,?the novice?slipped off her shoes and peeled away the socks, exposing the whole impossible length of her legs to the sunlight.? It felt nice.?

Warm.?

Sleepy.
?
As she lay back upon the grass, a brief breeze rustled the unbound mass of her riotous red curls and licked the pages of her work (which was, thankfully, fastened securely to the earth by her shoes).

Thoughts, gently tranquil, drifted like the breeze, and her eyelids fluttered closed against the bright sky. Not a minute later, the tempting oblivion of dreams infiltrated her mind in the guise of memories - Vesper?s prophecy of guilt, Tasha?s advice of confession, and the chains, the rending of flesh, the unbearable pain of --

-- Quillyan sat up, abrupt consciousness suddenly ripping her mind away from the dark deliberations already evaporating into eerie disorientation.

The spell dissection was still incomplete. The fourth page remained blank, the solution just beyond her perception.

Something wasn?t right.

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-05-17 23:31 EST
(Laurus Wing)

She was recovering quite easily; there was something about knowing most of the healers that made getting healed an quicker process.

Danilo had been gentle and she'd been returned to her suite for the arrival of Fleur Rousseau. The awkwardness of that encounter lingered. Ever the hostess, Vliss had powered through it with charm and good graces even when all she really wanted to do was point-blank ask her what was she thinking being with such a cold merciless bastard as Brais Galician? It really wasn't her place, but she'd once been fooled by his supposed concern, their shared interests leading her to make a deal with a devil. But he'd revealed his true--unfeeling--nature to her and she was left with only distaste and horror at her lingering connection to him. To see someone as loving and caring as Fleur Rousseau tied up with him made her want to intervene but she did not.

Later, after Fleur had left, Vliss had ventured out to escape her ever-present roommates. The Inn had seemed a good choice and she'd been in the middle of getting a drink when Damien had arrived.

The next two hours were spent in a flirtatious banter that had her giggling and teasing with abandon. Startled by the rumors about Ilyona she'd ventured her own attempt at vicious gossip, "We should spread the rumor that Iameth is pregnant with Sartha's lovechild."

Their laughter had resulted in tickling, and their tickling had resulted in kissing, and their kissing...well that had led them to abandon the Inn and head back to their suite.

Now, hours later, she lay replete and content, curled up next to the steady rise and fall of Damien's muscled chest. If she were disappointed that they still could not culminate their relationship it was a mild bite to an otherwise wonderful evening. Their intimacy had managed to surpass that basic need and while it still remained an issue, the closeness she felt for Damien...the love...she had for him, it only grew stronger for the adversity.

They were Together.

Tiatari

Date: 2011-05-20 22:35 EST
Tiatari's Private Alchemy Lab

She hissed inward, drawing the sharp breath to fill her lungs.

"I just thought you ought to know." Gina Magarelli chirped prettily, her hands making elaborate gestures in the air as she fulfilled her friendly duties.

"You just thought you'd rush down here to let me know that my boyfriend was frolicking in the gardens with his ex...out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Well," Again with the overly expressive hands, "I just know if that were me I'd want to know. Wouldn't you want to know?" All wide imploring eyes and dramatic expressions.

Tiatari lifted dove grey eyes to impale the little rabbit of a caster. There was something about the way she looked at Gina that forewarned that what was coming next was not going to be very nice, "Look. Gina." And the icy dripping of her words had the girl dancing backwards as she approached, "Tell the cur that you've got running your house that good breeding does not resort to gossip. Also, inform your mistress that House StormSabre is above such silly manipulations, and while you're at it, let the bitch know that I know how to keep my man and it doesn't depend on enchantments and mind control. She should take notes, I'm sure Benedykt would be happier if he could fucking think for himself once in awhile."

Gina squeaked and spun about to flee from the wrathful Primorus Discipulus.

Moments later, a voice lifted in question from the darkness where he had been hidden, Akemi revealed himself, "So what was that about?"

"Hmm?" Tiatari had returned to the spellbook she'd been forced to pull her gaze from and distraction reigned supreme.

"Come now Miss Blayne, we've been working together long enough now for me to recognize when you're truly irritated. Your eyes never once shimmered with any sign of electricity."

"What?" She blinked dazedly at him as if he spoke a foreign tongue, "Oh, shh, we've wasted enough time on that silly prattle. I could care less who Uziya is sticking his dick in. We have an understanding."

Akemi lifted a brow at that, after all it was all he could lift, chained down to the altar that remained hidden in the alcove.

"Oh don't give me that look." Tia sighed in true frustration this time, gathering the last of her items and moving toward him, "I care for him quite deeply. And I admit it would bother me if he went back to Vliss, but I'm just not... I don't really get the whole ownership thing."

Arranging the dark relics around the captive Akemi she took note of the candles length and the amount of incense in the air. Most importantly the runes she had painstakingly carved into his chest were scabbing over perfectly, "And I didn't have time for her right now, if I hadn't played the jealous shrew she would've stuck around to see if she could poke and prod me another way."

Uncorking her concoction she sniffed it and smiled approvingly, "It took me forever to perfect this particular alchemical design, and finding someone willing to participate in the ritual..." As she poured the tart liquid over his chest, Akemi writhed in agony that tinged with pleasure. His moan mixing with the sound of chains.

"Should she have interrupted the time flow of this particular spell...well..." And as her dove grey eyes flashed a silvery hue, Akemi shuddered in aroused fear. Nodding his agreement through the agony, "yes, we couldn't have that, could we?"

Xera

Date: 2011-05-21 11:38 EST
Commons.


An explosion of flames shot up from the hearth, roaring upward through the chimney, the fire burnt so bright it took on a blue sheen of warning. From within its depths, a dark shape emerged. Small, short really, the Azer-kin took her sweet time stepping free from the inferno that died down upon her exit.

Pausing on the hearthstones, she took in the sight of those frozen in startlement.

She didn't say anything for a moment. In fact, it looked like she might pretend to go on about her merry way like the sight of someone stepping from the fireplace was normal; or that she hadn't been gone for a really long time. But then her vividly smoking hair was tossed back to reveal the amusement dancing in dark, sooty eyes.

Her lips split in a ferocious grin as she hollered, "It's good to be back, did y'miss me?"

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-05-21 14:47 EST
(Commons)

The torrent of flame from the hearth pitched an orange-blue glow onto the somber wall opposite of arched doorway to the commons, collecting the attention of the approaching novice. She paused on the threshold of the room, curious to the events therein, momentarily unnerved by the silence that succeed the inferno.

"It's good to be back, did y'miss me?" came Xera?s mischievous proclamation, earning an immediate and generous smile from the fellow ginger.

?Xera!? Quillyan exclaimed as she wandered further into the room, feigning confusion in her tone, yet unable to conceal the devilry in the wide azure of her eyes. ?...Wait, you were gone??

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-05-22 09:41 EST


Eyes ascended from their perusal of the scroll laid across the tablet at the sound of the roaring herald, the insistent burn stinging eyes meant for cavernous dwelling. Though he was only haf-drow, a majority of his life had been spent below the earth, and because of that there were residual effects that resulted from the flash of brilliant illumination. He squinted, let the light fade, and then refocused.

While he knew of the Azer he didn?t exactly know her, and the same could be said for the willowy ginger who greeted her. Gorgonhorn?s dedication to knowledge, which extended well into the student population, had little written pertaining to these two, mostly because they were relatively unknowns to the Institute?s oldest House.

Because of his mastery of divination magic, Thea had bestowed upon him the rank of Infiltrator, and it was his job to stay cognizant of information whispered between students, especially of different houses. She liked to know what was going on before it became public knowledge, and it was his job to make sure that she was kept in the foreshadow.

With the wisp of slender fingers he incited arcana that heightened his sense of hearing, listening in as he feigned attention back to the parchment.

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-05-22 13:55 EST
ViperFang Picnic

Bryn's interjection saved Chika from having to explain further per Iameth's question. She settled quietly, coiled and taut, as there was no rest amongst her brethren.

It had not surprised her when House ViperFang had initially come calling, for they were in alignment with what she knew. Familiar with the dark dealings and the denizens of deceit, Chika had easily been enfolded within the House.

Felix's dark glower drew her attention and the speculative glint in his gaze warned her of his thoughts. Lovers? A spiteful act designed to hopefully gain the attention of the headmistress of this little party. He was weighing her duplicity in that gaze, considering whether or not she'd be willing to be used and in return hoping to even things with Iameth.

She found it just amusing enough to smile. Though the coldness of that empty gesture might've been more telling than the act itself.

The conversation had moved on to Brais Galician and she paid it no heed. He was as meaningless to her as the rest of the students. Their only importance in that those who supported her wished to see to their failings.

A heavy weight at the back of her neck made Chika immediately aware that she had drawn the attention of Cinder and some of her ennui disappeared beneath the discomforting sensation of emergent fear. He unnerved her, the vampire who said little. Disguising her reaction, or even her awareness, she let her gaze glide over the others, calculating strenths and weaknesses as was natural.

Khordan Rhylos

Date: 2011-05-23 18:57 EST
Arrival

The letter had come as a surprise, waiting for him on the table of his small room at the Red Dragon when he arrived one evening. Given that the room had been barred by both lock and spell, he was understandably hesitant to approach. No danger was immediately manifest though, and he finally took up the missive and opened it to read. The runes crawled along the page at first, like ants over a disturbed hill, but quickly sorted themselves out under a practiced eye. He cracked a smile as he read the letter, then reread it to make note of the address and pertinent words within. Time,,. the address... It was all there.

It took a couple of days to wrap up the loose ends, and on a bright if somewhat nippy afternoon he stood before the gates that barred the road up to the impressive-looking Institute. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising slightly as he looked out over the buildings and adjoining grounds, but he only paused for a moment before clearly speaking the password he had been given. A waving movement of his right hand had the gate swinging open, and he moved along the drive toward the front doors of the school.

***

As the minotaur walked away from the door to the the dorms he looked about Sylvaticum, his travel pack set on the bed farthest from the door. It looked as though he would have some roommates, not that the idea bothered him. He spent the next several minutes putting away his things, a wry smile coming as he regarded the uniform he had been given. Another surprise came when he opened the drawer to the desk to put away his books and found a small pin. A brow arched slightly as he read the attached note, before it burst into flame. and nearly causing him to fall back in the chair.

An hour later, as the sun was beginning to start it's drop toward the horizon, he was heading for the office of the headmistress to receive his first assignments.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-05-25 21:22 EST
ViperFang Picnic

The seductive burden of cunning in?the mingled?Viperfang voices rang?richly across the consciousness of the necromancer,?exciting the pretty smile that resided with bold innocence upon?perfectly sinful lips.? Affection was not what she felt, if she felt at all, but?shades of appreciation colored her?reactions - the intrigue, scheming, and manipulations of her companions elicited a pronounced yearning, much like a blade yearns for the taste of blood.?
?
Unbothered by such trivialities as pity or regret or timidness, she was uniquely suited to this particular den.? If strength and situation permitted, Bryn would happily destroy each of them,?delighting in the throes?of each death, soaking herself in the corruption of each twisted spirit, but for the present, she was obliged to play nicely.? Very nicely.
?
For?the Overseer she selected a red wine,?a rich and warming liquid powerful enough to?dispel?the?nip of chill in the evening air, and splashed it?into a?generous glass, her movements loose and lusciously careless.? A couple of droplets?spilled on her fingers, and to these she brought the pink talent of her?tongue, lapping tersely at the errant drip.?
?
As her eyes again lifted, she happened to notice the glance exchanged between Chika and Felix, leaving her to muse in casual passing that she wouldn't mind watching them -- but then the?void of her attention lazily shifted to Grail and Margot, dwelling momentarily on their atypical absorption in each other, for it was widely known that female vampire suffered for Cinder?s absent affection.? Perhaps the dynamics were changing.? Fascinating.

Grant watched her, watching them, an arrogant smile creeping across his handsome visage.? His trim form crowded her side,?near enough for his breath to heat?a bejeweled?ear.? ?So Bryn likes to look...but does she like to touch??

This, like all other exchanges among her companions, was a game of manipulation designed to coalesce power, sate raging egos, or garner devotion.? In response,?her mysterious smile blossomed anew, both coy and wicked, though ultimately offering little in the comely turn of her lips. ? She knew better than to advance promises.?
?
Better to leave questions to the mercy of imagination and?allow him decipher the infinite possibilities.
?
Beneath her, the?slender stretches of her naked legs unfolded, elevating her frighteningly fragile figure to the entirety of its petite height.? Bare feet, seemingly too finely-formed to tread the ground, pivoted away, and she unhurriedly picked her path around the cushions, pausing only at the side of Iameth's sensual?recline.?
?
"Overseer,"?said she with delightful warmth, extending the wine down to him.? Whether?advertently or inadvertently, it would seem that she offered more than?this simple vessel.? From his lounging position, the tragically abbreviated flare of her skirt offered little in the way of modesty; in fact, discretion came only in the form of weak shadow, enliven by the flickering glow of the candlelight.? "I must confess," she continued, her free hand tucking her hair behind her ear as she gazed down upon him, "I've been looking forward to the Masquerade Ball all year."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-25 22:14 EST
The Blue eyed monster...

The hand was doing better. Over the last few weeks it had started to heal naturally, no thanks to that bastard Ashriel, and as of the day before Blizzard had spent his days without wrapping it up. Fingers were still sore when worked too vigorously, but he figured that was just a ramification of getting it back to full strength. He hadn't done squat with the mentoring program and hadn't even really thought about it until Ozzie had gotten in some jibs about how great things were with her mentor, Brais Galician. Determined to beat her at her own game, he sought out the alluring daughter of the Institute's headmistress, and wasn't surprised to find her in the process of training. He made his way down the long and dark corridor that led to her salle, lavender eyes peering here and there to keep from being caught off guard. "Angel? You down here, babe?"

Angel spent her time training in the salle. The new instructor was showing her some offensive techniques against the Fae, especially given the wars in her homelands. Her mother of course was riding her about the mentoring. She chuckle, "Hey Stranger." She put up her weapons and grinned at him, "How's the hand?"

He lifted it, curling and flexing fingers to show they all still worked. "Hurts like hell but still able to cast. I guess that's all that matters, eh?" He leaned against the door, arms folding across his chest. "What about you? How you been?"

"Oh here there and everywhere. Yeah, I heard about it from Yona. Wasn't sure if you wanted to sneak off ground to see a healer we know or even her older sister." She gave him a glance over, "'Sides, we've got the mentoring stuff to do."

Elsewhere, in a blistering rage, a figure whipped around a dark corner. Sobs poured from the angry slash of lips. Fury masking normally calm features. The Gossip Winds had alluded to a new love for the Bard. The idea of Esteban with another maddening. No plans had been laid. Not like the first time. No calm consideration on how to dispose of the Azer roommate. No, this time the rage was too intense, the soul-clenching agony leading the student to rash action.

He seemed to consider it for a moment before giving a shrug. "It's actually doing a lot better now, but if anything ever comes up again I'll take you up on that." He noticed the once over and smirked, lips curling upward. "Right, mentoring. Have any ideas on what I can help you with?"

She chuckled at that, "Ummmhm, I don't know. That solution to the stoneskin spell seems to be alluding you." She wasn't shy about teasing him.

He chuckled, eyes dropping in mock defeat as he slowly nodded. "Touche'. But you should know that if that son of a b***h hadn't been hiding behind that spell I would have knock about six of his teeth out." Another shrug, albeit playful. "To be honest Fleur's been helping me out with that one. ...er, I mean Sorceress Rousseau." He always forgot that part.

"Which is what we do. House or no, we are friends too." Angel chuckled, "'Sides, I'm one of those students that multi-specializes, fighting with Magic."

Not a sound heralded her approach. The dark elf's step was a slinking slide that left no tracks. She'd been sneaking down to the salle during hours that she could afford. Only a week on campus had left Brizia searching for a quiet place to think. Weapons were more familiar than classmates who openly exhibited their emotions and the multitude of surface dwellers was enough to make her nervous. She drew up at the sight of the conversing couple. She'd hoped to find the salle empty.

"Yea, I should probably try to get in on that a little bit. I spent my life fighting with these..." He lifted up both fists in a traditional pugilist stance."...but it seems here they are pretty useless in comparison to...." He opened those fists and wiggled his fingers. "Either way seems I'm going to have to find another way to fight my battles."

"Use both. My aunt Fiona combines her Shadow magic with her weapon skills. Same with mom. There's no reason why you can't do both, plus keep personal magic to negate spells like the stoneskin." She suggested, "Afterall, he can't stop the punch if he's spell is unraveled."'

"Yea, that's what Fleur said too. Since we're both abjurist she's been teaching me how to hone in on the more protective side of the fight. I gotta say, it's new stuff. I'm more of the ....I don't know, smash your face in until you can't move. It's always been the best defense in my situations." He chuckled, eyes lifting to meet hers. "You know what I mean?"

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-25 22:18 EST
Oddly hued eyes glinted against the light as she thought to backtrack. After all, she wasn't seeking to intrude on a private moment or a personal scene. She recognized neither and knew only the name of one of her roommates. Ebonique. The other two were unknown still. The newcomer and the beast man who spent all his spare time in the infirmary.

A shift, a twist, and the enraged one was airborne, figure hidden within moments. A natural gift and one that kept sight unseen. Floating higher, soaring to escape the searing pain of Esteban's continued betrayal. How could he do this? How could he not know of the love felt? The lovenotes left behind? The sweet treats? It was HeR. HEr fault. The image of the daughter of the headmistress drew a sharp throated keening cry. Moments later, as escape was surely to be found, she actually appeared below. And rabid anger sent the soaring madness closer.

Blizzard remained oblivious to the stealthy drow lurking just outside the room, a viable distraction in the form of the topic of conversation along with who discussed it with him.

She chuckled, "Oh I know that one all too well. It's good on the front lines with equal odds, but this isn't the front lines and your opponents are sneakier, looking for any advantage they can gain."

He nodded, her sage advice already conveyed by the plush mouth of Storm Sabre's overseer. "Alright. What else?" He arched a brow. "Let's turn the tables a bit. What are you struggling with?"

Invisible. A natural innate talent that linked to an ancient heritage, the figure swooped down and around the salle. Looping it in growing speed, the circular attack whipping up a wind that stirred dust and dirt alike. Like suddenly being immersed in a sandstorm.

She was about to answer when the wind started picking up. The hackles of the demon were raising as she looked around the parameter of the room. "Blizz, what is that?"

She'd just been on the verge of turning on soundless feet when the wind stirred maniacally. The stinging slash of dirt catching her unaware. Instinctively she crouched lower to try and make a smaller target. The movement bringing possible detection as she was no longer focused on stealth.

The blur of motion caught his attention, his gaze shifting to the hovering form that circled the salle. Before he could even ask as to what was going on he was already hacking and coughing from the dirt and dust that tornadically spun. With his hand raised over his eyes to keep them free from the debris, he shook his head. "I don't know. I was hoping it was a friend of yours."

She shook her head bring her hand up to cover her nose and mouth as she started coughing her self. The eyelids hood to try to keep the dust out of her eyes. "None with this type of ability."

ShE waS there. The center of this tumult. The center of Esteban's attention and therefore the CeNter of the Wrath. Vengeful the winds buffeted and grew stronger, whipping any objects from the walls, potentially lethal as they were torn into the maelstrom. Visibility became impossible within a matter of seconds.

There had yet to be a direct attack, which kept Blizzard's intuition at bay, though as the whirlwind tore blades from the wall to send them spinning across the room, he erected a wall of magic between them and the oncoming swords and daggers, deflecting them harmlessly away. "I don't think this is a friend." Obviously a fan of the obvious.

She was coughing and the eyes widening as she saw the novice ? drow, "Sarn!!" She called out in drow... Beware

No longer able to see, she lifted an arm to protect her face when a shield was torn from the wall and carried into the storm, it's trajectory took it right across her, the heavy thud of the metal armament striking her hard enough to pull a startled cry of pain from her lips as her lightweight form was thrown into the interior of the room. The warning had come just a moment too late and not benefited by Blizzard's shield she crashed forward onto her elbow, dazed by the initial blow.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-25 22:19 EST
She was transforming at that point, "Blizz, can you get over to her?" She was concerned with the other novice's safety.

Had he not been following the ricochet of one of the deflected swords he would have never seen the slender form tossed into the room, cast within the midst of the storm. "Shit." He snapped, and as one wall faded another was born, a different angle to keep a separate set of weapons away. He turned back to observe the flyer, Angel's question barely heard, though as comprehension settled in he nodded and crouched low, making his way to where she lay.

The transformation was duly noted and with an explosion of concussive air that sounded like a sonic boom, the weight of a air driven battering ram aimed for the center of Angelica's slender chest. The howling in the WiNd sounded almost like a maniac's cry.

She pulled up her own shielding at that point once the change was complete. The cat-slitted eyes seeking the cause of this maelstrom.While the air did not touch her, the force of it was enough to blow her off her feet. She was thrown back several feet before twisting and landing on her feet. "So that's the way of it."

She'd just lifted her head when a blade sliced through the air toward her face, rolling quickly to the side she was headed directly toward Blizzard.

Hoping to have used that as a distraction the focus now became in suffocating the Princess of the Institute. MoMma's PreCiOus and Esteban's DEarheArt. All the air abruptly sucked from around Angelica now that she was separated from the other two.

The whistle of the blade coming for her caught his attention first, and with an upward rush of his hand he tore a pillar of stone straight up from the floor, directly in the path of the dagger. It smashed into the conjured column and bounced harmlessly to the side. "Are you alright?" The howling wind had him yelling.

That was not a good thing. There was enough air in the shield to hold for the moment. Those eyes slipping into the mage sight to find the source of the attacks. She tried to conserve as much air as she could as she searched.

CoulDn't be Detected. No. That would Ruin EVERYTHInG. The winds tore at the delicate eYes of the PRInCess. A glimpse of blue eyes so pUre and InnOcent rimMed in MadneSS.

Her vision swam, not from the winds, but the growing lack of air. She swayed a bit but she made no move towards the two novices. She had a feeling she was the target. She was growing lightheaded.

Was he serious? She lifted moonlit eyes to him and quickly closed them against the sharp agonizing whip of the wind. Was she alright? "Nau." Shortly. Hissed out as she was quite actually Pissed. She'd just wanted a moment of privacy and somehow she'd gotten caught up in something she couldn't possibly understand. "What is this?" She crawled toward him and his shield, eyes shut tight.

"Crazy." Was really his only explanation as he turned back to watch Angel and the...thing. He could see that she was being sorely pressed by the lack of air as he himself was starting to feel the effects of the suffocating vortex. He really wasn't sure what he could do to help, seeing as how there wasn't a face to slam his fist into. It was that thought that actually spawned an idea. He watched the rotation of the form circling the room, and then as it came around on one of its circuits he erected a wall...not at the form, but directly in its path.

YeS. The swaying form of Angelica was met with such manic deLight that the wall constructed by BliZzard was not noticed until ToO Late. The mystical barrier working as solidly placed as an actual wall and at that Speed the impact was not preTty. DaZed but focuSed enough to tear free of the room, the enraged being ripped down the hall and took a whirlwind force along for the ride.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-25 22:20 EST
Those blue eyes were committed to the demoness' memory. Oh yes, she would remember them well. The two halves struggled to stay conscious as the air was being sucked out of the room. She was driven down to one knee as the being hit the wall... literally.

The vacuum of the spiraling current sucked him off of his feet toward the door, dropping him onto his chest just at the threshold. He hit the ground and slid, slamming partially into the doorframe though able to keep from being completely pulled out. As the strength of the winds faded he pushed up to all fours and then came to his knees, chest pulsating with heavy breathes as he looked between the drow and the half demon. "Everyone good? Five fingers? Five toes?"

She was gasping for air and nodded, "... what was... that?"

What was with this guy and his odd questions? As the wind tore at her she'd found purchase, a deadly dagger driven into the ground to hold her steady. Now, with the wind gone, she opened moonlit eyes to stare at him in obvious question of his sanity.

"F-ed up." He snarled as he pushed up to his feet, looking out the door to check down the hall. He'd feel pretty stupid if their anonymous attacker was standing just outside.

She rose to her feet and was shaking off the effects. "Damn thing had it in for me and didn't care who got in the way."

StAy Away From Esteban if you vAlue yoUr LiFe..The hiSsed SoUnd CarRied doWn the HaLL thAt BlizZArd lookEd doWn.

He blinked, slowly drawing back into the room before turning to face Angelica. "Yea, I think it did." He looked back over his shoulder. "Did...did you hear that?"

She nodded, "That ... thing is responsible for the attack on Xera then and Albion." She remembered well having to patch up Albion.

She picked herself up off the floor and dusted herself off, a glance toward the voice and then toward her companions, "Thanks." She sought the word, as it was difficult to find in her home language.

"Looks like you're its next target." There was concern creeping into his voice, a rare emotion for him, which instantly had him switching targets. He looked at the drow. "Welcome."

"Who is this Esteban?" She narrowed her eyes upon Blizzard.

She shrugged, "Yeah, between Mercedes and this... Me and Esteban need to figure something out." She nodded to Brizia. "Dos ph' al'doer" You are welcome... She was fluent in drow.

"He's a friend." He realized that didn't really explain a whole lot. "And a bard. You might have heard of him, he's got a bit of a following. Sort of rock star status. Fledgling, but on his way up." He hoped that helped a bit more.

She nodded in agreement to Blizzard's description, "And my boyfriend." Which explained the warning.

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-25 22:22 EST
He blinked, not realizing the two were an item. "Well, that certainly explains a lot."

"The Winds was dead on with that. Which is probably what pushed it this far."

"Nau." She had not heard of him and it was readily apparent as she continued to give him the strangest look. Though the recognition of drow was met with startlement and a hint of relief. She inclined her head, sending the multi-hued locks of her hair spilling about. The closest she would come to saying nice to meet you. Her elbow was scraped and bleeding and she was going to have a helluva goose egg but that was pretty insignificant all things considered.

She needed to give Esteban the warning and get him up to speed in self-defense... Even if she had to enlist her father and uncles.

"The winds? You listen to that stuff?" He arched a brow before slowly turning to the door again. "Looks like you're not the only one." Lavender eyes shifted to Brizia. "What is that..Nau?...That barely sounds like a word. More like a grunt or something."

"Nau is Drow for no, Blizz." She chuckled a bit, "The Winds is a snarky little elg'caress but generally she is close to her facts."

She glared. A narrowing of moonlit eyes, "Says the moron named for the weather." And with that she was on her heel and headed for the corridor, she didn't need this.

Blizzard Vaughn: "Then why not just say no?" He didn't really give Angel a chance to respond before leveling his glare on the drow. "Hey, smart ass, it's not like you get to pick your name you know! And don't get it twisted, Blizzard is a kick ass name and you know it. You know it!"

"Vith you."

"Down, tiger." She snickered, "Careful, he just might take that as an invite."

"You're damn right me with me!" Yea, he didn't hear her right.

"Actually Blizz, She said F**k you." She shook her head.

"She did?" He paused, contemplated, and then roared after her. "You wish! I wouldn't pound your pudding if you were the last dessert on earth!"

There was the palm meeting her face as she slipped out via the shadows. She needed to get to Esteban fast and warn him of the danger.

(Thanks to Satariel, Blizzard and Aolani. Love you guys!)

Aolani Malvlasta

Date: 2011-05-26 09:52 EST
Sylvaticum Wing - Brizia's P.O.V.

Her dark-skin melded quite easily with the shadows and she chose to remain hidden. Moon-swept eyes, the oddly pale hue was kept concealed beneath a sweep of dark lashes, followed the movements of her new roommate. As a cross-bred elf she was diminutive in size. Barely reaching five feet, she was feeling particularly outsized by the other occupants of Sylvaticum. First Ebonique's lengthy frame had been disheartening, then the Beast-Man, and now this one.

As he chose the room farthest from the door she slipped down the hall on silent feet. They'd been assigned one of the more luxurious wings (she was certain this was Aolani's doing on her part) but it remained starkly furnished for now. Not one for much trappings she'd done little in the way of decorations. Her own room held only the bed, the dresser, and the wizard's desk. The pack from the Underdark remained propped against the wall, the accoutrements within an account of the type of life she'd once led.

She'd never been around this many surface dwellers before and their exuberance and easily emotive actions left her unnerved. The urge to stretch limbs left stiff by inaction had her slipping out the door in search of some kind of exercise.

http://i852.photobucket.com/albums/ab90/AolaniM/Brizia.jpg

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-27 10:37 EST
{Anise Wing}

She did not want to take a chance on running into either Elkinid or Felix on her way to Esteban. She was too seriously depleted to deal with the stress from either of them, though she tended to trust Elk more than Felix.

She risked a shadow walk into Esteban's sleeping chambers and proceeded to face plant on the floor as she fell out. The attempted suffocation from that creature had hurt her more than she let on and at the same time she was blocking her twin. Damien had his hands full and she did not want to reveal her ace yet.

She gathered enough strength to roll onto her back with a groan. She needed to warn him... protect him. This creature had crossed too many lines and now she was going to find and end this one.

She whistled softly for Poquito. If any being could find Esteban, it would be his familiar.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-05-29 08:00 EST
{Viperfang Picnic}

The languid coil of Iameth?s lips at the sight of Bryn looming above him was both subtle and suggestive all at once. The soft almond shape of lilac eyes looked first to the wine glass she offered and then beyond to the immodest length of her skirt and exposure of her thighs, unabashed in its reservation. He openly endorsed the sight, the extension of his hand threating to stroke those pallid limbs with the tips of silken fingers before coming up short and curling around the stem of the glass, leaving her with only a gentle caress along the back of her hand in gratitude of the gift.

?Ah yes, the Masquerade. I think it is about time to unveil our most extravagant of parties.? He paused, eyes reaching up to find her gaze. ?Of course, this is assuming that we?ve done our part to organize such a soiree.? The final word trailed off as his sardonic survey swiveled to where Grant stood.

The theatrical bow Grant responded with seemed to mock its instinctive posture; surrender. ?My apologies, oh glorious Overseer. I have been so caught up in a vast assortment of events that I have left that stone unturned. I?ll make sure to meet with Vliss as soon as our little get-together concludes to hammer out the details.? The way he said her name, Vliss, made it sound far too obscene.

?Perfect, then. Let?s go ahead and arrange it sooner than later. I, too, have been rather excited about the Ball. It is one of my favorite events of the year.? The tip of his dark tongue made a momentary appearance as it gently moistened the corner of his mouth. ?Oh, how I love to wear masks.?

?What of outside attendance?? Felix grumbled; the ominous glint in his gaze drawn away from the sight of Bryn and the Overseer. Though brilliant, it didn?t take a ton of intelligence for him to understand the sight presented to Iameth with his recumbent pose verses the Necromancer?s towering position. ?Will it be acceptable to bring dates who are not students?? It was this question that drew the Novitiate who nipped at his throat recoiling, her features crossed with disappointment and insult, to which Felix was unfazed.

?Bring whomever you wish.?

?If I may,? Cinder interjected. Because he so rarely spoke, when he did it seemed almost impossible to not listen. His voice was a ghostly whisper, reminiscent of a dapper inflection that had been scraped with the grim stone of timelessness. ?I do not think it is wise to open the doors to just anyone. The secrets of this House are great and we do not wish to compromise them by bringing in outside sources that may prove to be curious beyond reason. This is Rhy?din after all.?

Iameth?s chortle broke the ranks of silence that followed Cinder?s sage account and invoked a secondary giggle from Margot, simply because she was the type to follow along. ?You worry too much, Cinder, but very well. Let?s meet somewhere in the middle. It is not an open invitation and those outside of the School must be accompanied by a student or else they won?t be able to attend.? He brought the glass to his lips and sampled it, leaving the bowed tiers glistening in it?s withdraw. He glanced at the Vampire. ?Adequate??

Cinder, whose antique expression had yet to even quiver from the stoic regard that seemed eternally etched upon his handsome visage, remained cold and collected. His reply came as one word.

?Barely.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-29 19:12 EST
Storm Warning...

She had fallen unceremoniously to the floor in his private quarters; away from the eyes of everyone else. On her back, she tried to assess how hard she got hit and how pissed off she was.

A fine time he picked to go on a shopping trip. But, the Bard had experienced what he thought was a major breakthrough in good ideas, and just had to venture out to see it made real. Noting his door partially open, he grew cautious. ?Hello? Anybody but me home??

There was a bit of a groan and she tried to roll onto her side, "Esteban."

?Sweet mother of Christ!? His shocked yell echoing out as he pushed the door open, dropping a few bags just inside as he rushed over to his prone love, dropping to his knees and sliding those last few inches to cradle her head in his hands. ?What happened??

She closed her eyes a moment with the shouting, "You sir, have a deranged stalker." She was relieved though that the b*tch hadn't reached him yet.

He went pale. Which, for him, is quite the feat. A sharply barked command had the door slamming, arcane locks clicking into place with a stacatto report. ?Mierde, I thought that was done...?

She shook her head, "It's not over and she's quite powerful. If it wasn't for Blizzard, I don't know I'd have made it."

Oddly enough, the large bags didn't rustle so much as thunk and clank. Seems he's been busy. ?Blizzard?? Not someone he knew well, but he thought he knew the type. He went quite for a moment and then muttered softly. ?Hmmm. I owe him.?

She moved to nestle in just gathering her strength. Though she was pissed. "I didn't see more than the eyes. I'll know who it is when I see them. Seems we have the Winds to thank for pushing her into the open."

?The gossip? Oh, that's just *** lovely.? Cradling her softly, he hummed just under his breath, willing some of his strength to her.

She nodded at that a bit, "Yes, our dear Winds whispered that we were a couple. Too closely time to be coincidence."

? Then... then I guess one of the things I bought might come in handy sooner that I thought...?

She arched a look at him, feeling a little better she moved a bit to sit up. "Shopping?" One of those things he enjoyed more than she did.

?Yeah...? He reached out with his leg, hooking the nearest bag, the one shaped like a guitar case. ?I meant to surprise you with this...? Slowly, he unzipped the case, pulling out an acoustic guitar. A lot like the one he'd chastised himself for dropping a few weeks ago, the one he used to play.

She blinked a bit, "For me, Amante?"

?Not... quite.? With a small smile, he winked, and turned the guitar, showing off the back, where someone of definite artistic talent traced a painting beneath the lacquer. A touching piece, with the Bard and Angel in a loving embrace, their foreheads touching.

She blinked and smiled softly, lightly tracing the image with her fingers, "Its beautiful, love."

?I'd been hoping you'd say that...? Then, he pointed at the case. ?There's a few surprises in there, as well. They're not the sweet kind, though.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-29 19:17 EST
She leaned over slowly to look in the case. There was that arch of the brow as she examined things, "I didn't think sweet things clanked."

?No, they don't.? Outside the neck of the case, four flat pack sheaths were sewn. Each sheath held a trio of thin throwing knives, hidden from view, but within easy reach. Inside, another pocket held his wand, and a few other arcane components. ?You said I should start defending myself.?

She nodded at that, "Yeah. The b*tch brought that one home. I was thinking of talking to Dad or Danny... Though mom is talking to Uncle Rhyslin about signing on as an instructor." She considered introducing him to the old Battle Mage.

?That's not the only thing...? He slipped carefully out from under her, and grabbed up the other bags, bringing them over. Just a couple, though one seemed to carry a great deal more inside.

She leaned back against the bed for support and watched him grab for the bags. "Yeah?"

From inside the smaller bag, he drew out two wrapped packages, both long and relatively slender. Unwrapping one, he presented an athame, hilt first, for her to inspect. It wasn't flashy, but then again, it didn't need to be. It served a purpose. While she gave it a look, he began unwrapping the other.

She looked at it, testing the balance. "This will be of importance once you reach the mage rank. Doesn't hurt to get used to it now though."

?That's not the one I wanted to get used to.? The one he'd unwrapped, he held up to the light. Where the athame was dull, by necessity, this most certainly was not. Some enterprising folks might call it an Arkansas toothpick, others just too much knife for the job. All he knew, was that this puppy was staying with him twenty-four-seven for the foreseeable future.

She took the new blade from him and examined it with the practiced eye of someone used to the weigh of weapons, Literally and figuratively. "There is one thing I regret in this exercise, love." She looked at him with sad eyes at this point, "That it is necessary for you to take these steps."

He shrugged. ?Back home, I'd just hire security. That's not an option here. So, taking matters into our own hands, yes??

She nodded, "Here bodyguards can be a hindrance and I can't be with you all hours of the day. We'd drive each other crazy." She smiled at him.

?Or never get anything done.? He winked back.

She laughed at that, "There are different kind of insanity. Your brand is just too delicious to ignore." She teased lightly.

He sighed and then opened the larger bag. It held... his uniform jacket. Or mostly that. It looked the same, at least.

She looked at the jacket on several levels. With mage sight and looking for hidden things. Strips of iron. Cold iron, though how he got a hold of that is a mystery. Thin, and narrow, but effective against certain magic. Here and there, the components of a set spell gleamed in mage-sight. Two such spells, to be precise. One, a sonic barrier. But the other... no, that's not bardic magic. Simple, but not bardic.

She nodded, "That's going to piss off Master MacIntyre if it doesn't gain his respect." She said referring to the Sidhe Lord that had taken over the Dueling. Then she considered it, "And protect you against Vesper."

?Oh well. This one is for wearing to classes, not out and about. Though, if it comes to it, I'll do that too.? It's a concealment spell, one not reliant on music or notes. ?Better safe than sorry.?

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-29 19:18 EST
She nodded at that, "Around here, it's necessary. Look what happened with Blizzard thanks to that #$%^&* of a roommate of yours"

?Oh, he's no roommate of mine... he might live in a room, but definitely not a drinking buddy.? One last thing, as he removed a different type of sheath from the bag. Carefully, he rolled up his pant leg, strapping the empty sheath to his calf.

She nodded in approval, "I was wondering about that. Especially when you don't have your case with you."

The sheath, too, had a touch of magic to it. A two-compartment container, one perfect for a wand, the other wide enough for that big sticker. Which he then held out his hand for. ? I tried to think of the necessities.?

She presented the knife back to him across her arm hilt first. He took the blade, slipping it into the holster, then did the same with his wand. But, when he covered it back up, nothing appeared to be there. Not even to magical viewing.

She nodded impressed. "Hmm, I think Master Macintyre has an opening in the basic class." She liked watching him move.

?I think I need to learn something of the basics first.? With a rueful smile, he slipped one of the throwing knives out of the case, and picked a spot of bare wall. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the blade whirling toward the target, where it promptly smacked flat against the door, three feet away. ?I need some work.?

A simple gesture had one of her enchanted blades to hand. From where she was sitting she flung that blade... Bullseye. "Not everyone has access to a Drow Weaponsmaster." She said without a hint of bragging. The blade returned to her hand. "But then your magic is going to be the other weapon. Unless they silence you, your voice is going to be the biggest asset."

?So, just what happened to you?? He's curious, because he's been learning all sorts of ways that silencing can happen. Hence, his other precautions.

She sighed softly, "I was in the salle taking with Blizzard about the mentoring when a dust storm blew out of no where. Seems the b*tch has a fine control on air elementalism." She hugged herself at that point. "Tried suffocating me by stealing the air. Blizzard broke her control by placing a shield in her path which she ran head-along into."

He nodded and then cursed some under his breath. ?Definitely need work. No air... no music.?

She nodded at that thinking as she watched him. She knew he was bulking up for protection. "We'll think of something. Maybe even clerical magic."

?Actually... I have an idea. But, it's not a pair of spells I know. I know of them, but haven't figured out how to make them work yet.?

"Which ones?"

?A spell for breathing without air, and a spell for producing sound in vacuum or other places one normally couldn't. Be good for swimming, at the very least...?

"Advanced spells. Maybe a ring or something." She thought about it. ?One other spell I think might help, spell turning."

?A ring, an amulet... something. Yeah, as a just in case measure.?

"I'll bug Uncle Rhyslin." There were advantages to her chaotic family... Archmages.

He sighed. ?I never thought going to school would be dangerous...?

She crawled over to him to snuggle in for a hug. "I know love."

Settling down to the floor, he gathered her up in his arms. ?I suppose the next necessity is practice, right??

"Right." She sighed softly, holding him as much for comfort as his. "After classes. We'll get started immediately."

Angelica Rose

Date: 2011-05-29 19:19 EST
Softly, he murmured something that's been on his mind since he walked in the room. ?Are you alright??

She nodded, "I'm okay. Now that I know you are alright." She admitted that she had been worried. "The b*tch miscalculated..."

?That she did, and I'm happy for it.? Gently, his nimble fingers started to knead, searching out any painful spots she might have.

She made a soft sound. "I'm more worried about you, love. But now we know to be on guard. It'll end soon if I have my way."

?There's only one thing I want to know. Why me?? His voice was almost petulant, at least for a moment.

"Desire is a powerful motivator." She looked at him in all seriousness, "You are very handsome, talented and well rich."

?It would make more sense if I actually knew who this stalker person was... I mean, really. Can you picture Sartha being this maniacally fanboyish? Or even worse. Vesper!? He shuddered.

She laughed at that. "There is one thing I can say conclusively. Your stalker is female. Havens, She is looney to boot. But, I don't think she knows you too well." She shook her head, "I've been warned to stay away from you. A pity I don't take orders like that too well."

?And you think this is the same one who attacked Xera? And Albion?? If there were any others, they slipped his mind at the moment.

"I think so. It fits." She said quietly enough.

?Just my luck... No, let me rephrase. With my luck, she'll be a part of Viperfang, and that's a real skin-crawler of a situation.?

"It is. Though I'm going to have to talk to mom, report it."

?I suppose I'll have to come along for that as well... no offense, amante but your mother scares the life out of me.?

"She would to most, love. That's her mask." She said softly. "And yes, Might as well get the family thing out of the way too."

He took in a deep breath, and held out a hand to help her stand. ?True that.?

She grasped his hand and pulled herself up to her feet unsteadily. "Would help her to have some trace to follow too."

?Do you need a moment? Or is this one of those 'the sooner the better' sorts of things??

"One of those sooner the better. We lost too much time with the dagger that was stolen from Albion. Now we have traces from her attack and I'll be damned if I let her get away."

?Alright then.?

She paused a moment, "Esteban?"

?Yes, querida??

"I love you." She said simply enough.

?Te amo, querida.? With that voice, she'd know just how deep he'd fallen, really.

She leaned into his side the moment and waited for him to release the locks on the door. Whoops. He'd forgotten about that. With a whistle, locks clicked open. She moved through the door with him. Dreading this talk with her mom. She's not alone, in that dread.

(Thank you Esteban!)

Xera

Date: 2011-05-31 18:55 EST
The Commons

?Xera!? Quillyan exclaimed as she wandered further into the room, feigning confusion in her tone, yet unable to conceal the devilry in the wide azure of her eyes. ?...Wait, you were gone??

Xera's mouth dropped open, rather comically actually. She sputtered and then rushed the slender waif of a novice. "Y'know y'missed me!!" Sweeping Quillyan up into a chipper and rather exciteable dance that had them spinning all about the Commons.

Perhaps unnoticed in their rather hilarious celebration (forced as it was on poor Quilly), the flames flared up and emitted another newcomer. The fiery form patiently watching the Azer.

Xera was desperate to see EVERYBODY and catch up on ALL the news she'd missed.

"Tell me EVERYTHIN'!"

Alaric Granger

Date: 2011-05-31 20:47 EST
He'd awakened with a hangover. The pounding throb enough to remind him why he didn't normally drink. Well there was that and his unfortunate penchant for rash behavior.

Did I really take my shirt off in the Inn? He groaned aloud at the thought and felt the bed move as the rumble in his broad chest awoke someone.

Someone? He didn't want to open his eyes. Searching his foggy memory for details he realized with a sickening clench in his belly that he had no idea where he was.

"You're awake?" The bone-dry whisper of a parched voice drew his eyelids apart revealing the glittering depths of rainforest green eyes.

"Nemese." He tried not to groan the name as he closed his eyes against the sight of the pale wraith of a girl.

It was with some relief that he realized he was still fully dressed and this realization only spurred on his sluggish memory. The House GorgonHorn meeting...something about Gotha's punishment..a lack of a strong showing in the Evocation Duels.

"Yea, I'm awake." He finally confirmed as he realized she was simply staring at him in silence. Evacuating the bed suddenly seemed like a really good idea and he rolled up to his feet in a quick movement that sent his spinning head threatening to rebel.

"You don't look so good." She observed in that same whispered tone.

"A little too much to drink." He agreed, scraping his hands through his blonde hair and attempting to smooth out some of the tangles. A quick search revealed an ancient baroque style bedroom. The furniture heavy and Gothic as even the sconces were ornate. "Uhh, thanks for letting me crash."

"Of course." She rose from the bed as well, her nightgown enclosing her wraith-thin body from neck to toe in yards of white. "ElKinid assured me that you'd be thankful."

Kinid. He should've guessed. The flicker of an amused grin emerging as he muttered to himself, "Well-played." He'd definitely get him on the next round.

Nemese simply observed him from the bruised depths of her eyes and he realized the rudeness of his behavior. The list of his errands for the day spilled before him with a mocking gleam of a Sadist's smirk. "Look, I'm sorry to run out like this, but I've got a ton of things to get done today."

"Of course." She simply watched him as he laced his boots on his feet.

"I owe you one." He paused long enough to level the serious weight of his eyes upon the pale girl.

"Of course." No change in the inflection but for some reason he felt a surge of discomfort. Offering a quick nod to acknowledge her agreement he slipped out the door and headed for Commons.

He needed coffee.
And he needed it now.

Cadence Smyth

Date: 2011-06-01 13:46 EST
She didn't make it to the ViperFang picnic. Between her part-time job and her classes she'd actually slept right through it. Frantically she wracked her brain for a way to make that up to Bryn, the icy beauty that hosted the affair was not one she hoped to cross.

Worry had made her restless so when Tuesday night rolled around and the school began to empty out for the usual festivities she'd gone to the Twilight Isles in hopes of running into some of her classmates.

Iameth hadn't acted unduly irritated with her and in fact had danced she and Saphira about the sands. She really liked the lycan and even with the mood of the evening ruined by the squabbling over the goblins, she was left with the kernal of an idea.

Mystri might not forgive her but surely bringing in someone as obviously powerful as Saphira into the folds of the House would redeem her in some way.

And it wasn't like Mystri cared about such things.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-06-01 23:13 EST
Oh what tangled webs we weave

The twins were fast asleep, and Saphira was studying, something she'd taken to doing again recently. She thumbed through the pages, only half paying attention to the material, things she already knew but was reviewing to ensure her memory served correctly. Her thoughts kept returning to last night. Cadence and Iameth and dancing. Kish never danced with her. He was either studying or playing with the girls or in class. He had his own life, she knew and wondered if he didn't feel any regret for his decision to be with her, with them. It was a tough situation, and she could think of no way around it.

Her musings were interrupted by a most welcome and familiar voice. "Saph? You awake?" Kish's voice preceded him though not by much as he made his way into the smaller side chamber of the main den. "I saw the light and thought you might still be awake.." He smiled, that boyishly sweet smile. "Glad I decided to check. I know it's late, but I wanted to see you." Saphira marked her page and folded her book closed. "Don't you need to get some sleep? It's nearly one in the morning." "Nah." Came the quick response. "I can sleep tomorrow, I don't have any classes til after lunch. Besides I haven't seen you all day." A snowy brow climbed to form a perfect arch.

"You missed me? I'm surprised you haven't missed your friends more. You've been spending most of your spare time here with us." "I know," His voice was gentle as he settled down beside her on the mound of blankets and pillows. "But I miss you. Don't get me wrong I adore the girls, but it makes it hard to really have quiet time with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She flushed at the compliment, and she remembered the upcoming masquerade. "Kish." Tentatively. "I was wondering..uhm you know about the upcoming masquerade, right?" A touch flustered. "Yes?" He prompted with a grin. "Will you take me?" She blurted. "I mean the girls should be fine, we can go after they're asleep. The den has a confoundus spell on it and Lune can stay in case.." Kish cut her off by pressing a finger to her lips with a chuckle. "I didn't know you wanted to go, but if that's how you feel of course I'll take you."

She nearly squealed in delight. "Really?! Oh Kish!" And with that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with renewed enthusiasm. When she finally let him up for air he had a bemused smile on his face. "Well if that's how it's gonna be I should take you out more often...." Winking at her. "So, any idea what you want to go as?" She blushed a little. "Welll....." Drawing it out sheepishly." "Oh come on, what?" He poked her in the ribs. "Tell me or I'll tickle. I mean it, don't try me." She couldn't help but giggle a little. "I was thinking a fairy princess." Her cheeks grew hotter. "I think you would make a divine fairy princess. I shall escort you as your fairy prince. We can even make the wings out of frost. We can be the ice King and Queen of the fairies if you like." Winking as he got into it. "Oooohhhhh That's great!" She nodded happily. Lets do that!"

He laughed and pulled her down onto the heap of bedding with a smile. "Then it is settled my lady. In the mean time I think you need a break from studying." He winked at her and pulled the blanket over the both of them somehow managing to wriggle out of his clothes at the same time.....

Leda

Date: 2011-06-02 21:36 EST


So this was a uniform, was it? Leda looked herself critically up and down in the polished glass of the mirror she had found in a corner of her assigned room. Though only recently introduced to the concept of wearing clothing that wasn't easily shredded for her master's pleasure, she had to confess she was not particularly impressed by this array of attire.

A faint smirk touched full lips made for kisses. There was no reason, of course, why she shouldn't adapt the uniform for her own comfort, was there? That cold one who had shown her where she was to sleep - Thea - had made one or two comments, no doubt intended to be spiteful, about Leda's lack of wardrobe, and finished them off with a cool suggestion that she find herself someone who could make use of the gold her master had given her to last the year through.

But she had all she needed right here, surely. The half-breed slave shrugged out of her blazer, and turned her attention to the meat of her clothing. Without much care for the buttons, she ripped the front of the shirt open, tying the loose ends instead at her midriff and leaving it to gape open as she moved. The skirt, too, she went at ruthlessly, raising it another few inches until she was comfortable with where the hem skimmed her legs.

Ah, so that was what lingerie was for. Leda actually laughed as she noted the peek of black satin making itself known beneath her shirt as she examined herself once more. Harris would be proud; at the very least, she should end up in his portfolio.

Out of necessity, she was forced to keep the shoes for the time being, and the blazer as it was would come in handy for fending off weather, in her mind. But the rest ... yes, Leda could present herself like this without feeling as though she were presenting a complete lie to the rest of the world. The very best deceptions have a modicum of truth hidden within.

Well, now, she was dressed. Her eyes skimmed over the room she was standing in, landing on the second bed. That would seem to suggest that she would be sharing this space with someone else. Her lips twitched in amusement at the strange customs on this plane. Surely it was plain to anyone with eyes that a single bed was far more practical?

Well ... more fun, anyway.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-06-04 23:54 EST
The Return

She felt almost as nervous as she had the first day she stepped foot on the grounds, like she was poised on the edge of a cliff ready to be devoured whole.

The school.

A place she had found comfort, companionship, and yes betrayal. A betrayal she never would have forgiven had the joy it had brought about in it's convoluted way not been gifted her. Glacial eyes flicked again to Sadie and Adora, Happily playing chase with Lune as the sitter watched on indulgently. A temp to be sure, but a sitter all the same. She cast her gaze once more to the sheet of ice that served as a mirror, smoothing her uniform free of errant wrinkles.

She took a deep breath and smiled to her girls, a shame really she had to leave them, but studies could not be put off forever. "Alright girls, you be good for Elrissa. I will know if you are not." With that she kissed them each on the forehead and began threading the winding tunnels of the den to bright light and fresh air. Her hands trembled slightly, leaves rustled in the wind as though reflecting her own unsteady nerves. It was not a fear of returning but a sense of foreboding leaving her girls like this. She disliked it immensely, but it would soon become just another routine.

She walked toward the main building barefoot, as she was accustomed to doing before taking her leave, pausing only to put her shoes on at the threshold. The door seemed to gape, an odd sensation of being engulfed rather than welcomed back into to hallowed halls. She walked with a sense of purpose, erect, head high ignoring the whispers thought to be too soft for her ears to catch.

'Isn't that the wolf-girl?'

'I thought she was pregnant?'

'Didn't you hear? It was a monster so they had to kill it....'

'I heard lycans ate their offspring...'

Her cheeks burned hotly at the venom dripping from mouths that looked more human than viper, but venom those words remained. What did they know? Small minded gossipers who thrived on the misery of others whether or not it was perceived, true or outlandish nonsense. anything to spice up their otherwise mundane lives. For a moment she fervently wished Mystri were with her, or Albion or Damien, who always had an easy smile for her. Someone just to be with, to know she wasn't alone a shield to the slings and arrows of outrageous gossip.

After what seemed like an eternity she arrived at her first class, Ice elementalism. She knew Mistress Lyricstar would welcome her back warmly, knew her position as aide was still there should she wish it. She hesitated at the door, swallowing hard pushing the hard lump in her throat down where it took up residence in her stomach as a knot. She pushed the door open, and the casual chatter, the laughter and the smiling faces all went silent in shock.

She had come back.

She moved silently to her seat and sat down, ignoring the deafening lack of sound. It echoed, a resounding knoll as though signaling a most grievous death that prompted all those who heard to mourn the passing of something beautiful. They had heard the rumors, too many had flown to know what exactly was true, each had another color to add to a skewed portrait of events recently past, and the resulting hodgepodge was an atrocity masquerading as something coherent. There was a resounding echo of relief when Mistress Lyricstar made her grand appearance in a flurry of snow that fluttered like cherry blossoms carried on a warm wind.

The smile that so often gave her that otherworldly glow soon faded as she gazed out over her deathly silent class. "Is it me, or is it that my students are too distracted to heed their lessons today? In which case I should gladly assign any who cannot handle basic elementalism Detention with Sartha." Her tone sweet, the tone gentle but there was a hard edge to it. Immediately all eyes were on her. Saphira was inwardly grateful as the oppressive weight of speculation, pity and distaste were lifted from her with murmurs of "Sorry." Rippling throughout the class.

The lesson proceeded from that point under the guise of normalcy, though the heavy glare of eyes on her was enough to make her uncomfortable. When the bell rang she lingered, as the suddenly too-loud students filtered from the classroom, in a tide of speculation. Niveah placed a hand on her shoulder. "Welcome back, Saphira." Saphira turned to meet her instructor's eyes, taking a long moment to find her own voice. "Thank you, Mistress." Internally she debated as to whether or no she should consider taking up tutoring again. "It would be a good idea." Niveah said as though following her thoughts. Saphira looked at her in surprise as a musical laugh floated to her ears. "No, but it does not take a mind reader to know the expression on your face." Answering the unasked question. "Give it time, Saphira. They'll soon grow tired of whispering like children.

Saphira nodded. ""Thank you." Was all that managed to escape her before she turned to the hallway. There were other classes and other spectators she was certain. The rest of the day was heavy with a choking sense of unease and she isolated herself from the others, wanting no part of their barrage of idiotic questions. She wished for a friendly face and got none, apparently today her lunch hour was not the same time as her friends'. Even Kish was oddly absent today. When the final class had wound to it's agonizing end she hurried from the smothering halls, bursting outside like a drowning man gasping for air. She stripped out of her uniform(Thankful nobody was around to comment on that) and shifted to wolf form. The clothes were sent to the den via a quick teleportation charm and she surged forward abruptly at full speed, mist trailing after her as though she were a ghostly demon wolf escaped from the coldest pit of hell.

She needed to clear her head after everything. She needed to run.
Run she did. Through the trees, through the glen, forest and glade mingling into a blur of disparaging anger and hurt she sang to the bright sky in a howl that ripped itself from her very soul. She ran until she could run no more, until the anger and the insult was replaced by fatigue and the heat of the day. Tongue lolling as she panted heavily, she came to a faltering halt at a stream she did not recognize and drank deeply. Tomorrow would be little better, and she had homework. With this thought she turned toward home, brightening only slightly at the thought of Sadie and Adora welcoming her back with childish giggles and innocent smiles.

Leda

Date: 2011-06-05 12:44 EST
A First Encounter

"Stop."

Leda paused on her exploration of the halls, blinking in surprise at having been addressed. She had thought she was alone; it seemed that very few of the students or faculty of the Institute remained on the grounds during those times when they were not required to attend classes or take part in study groups.

"Turn."

Laying her hands upon her hips, she did as the feminine voice instructed, turning slowly on the spot until she came face to face with the one speaking to her. Her lips parted in an open smile as she took in the delicious figure of womanhood in front of her.

Tall, long-legged, immaculately turned out, the sorceress who had halted her was certainly no girlchild. Leda stood perfectly still and silent, drinking in the beauty in front of her with quiet delight. Whoever this was, she was temptation made flesh, even for a half-demon.

"You must be the new novice," the sorceress said coolly, heels tapping on the flagstones as she moved to circle Leda, inspecting every inch. "Hmm."

"I am Leda, mistress," the half-breed answered her politely, her voice whispering like silk on bare flesh as her head turned to watch herself inspected so thoroughly.

"I am not your mistress," the sorceress corrected, coming to a halt before her once again. Lithe, slender fingers lifted Leda's chin as those cool eyes surveyed her face and form once more. "Hmm ... you have a lot of potential, for someone so obviously untrained. I realise that many people have a weakness for schoolgirls, but why are you still wearing your uniform?"

"I have nothing else," Leda answered simply, her black eyes trained with brazenly inviting defiance on the gaze of her acquaintance.

"Well ... we shall have to do something about that, won't we?" Abruptly, the sorceress lowered her hand, turning away. "Come along, then, I don't have all day."

Dropping her hands from her hips, Leda fell into step behind the woman, the gentle sway of her hips exaggerrated as she did a little inspecting of her own. This one was beautiful, yes; tempting, too; but there was a chill about her that seemed to hold others at bay. Perhaps no one yet had discovered the right formula with which to melt past that barrier. She smirked to herself, following the sorceress through the halls and into another domestic wing of the building.

A man looked up as they passed through what seemed to be a common room of sorts. Pale eyes and white hair marked him out from the dark furnishings of the room, but he, too, had an icy beauty that begged to be tasted. His gaze lingered on Leda's guide as she walked past, but soon turned to the half-breed. She lifted a brow in addition to the unspoken enticement of her smile as he looked at her, and felt a momentary thrill of triumph as the ice in his features melted away, warmed by a natural smile in answer.

"Do stop staring, Benedykt," her guide said suddenly. "She's here with me."

He inclined his head, taking his eyes from Leda only to level them once more in what seemed to be reverent fascination on the woman who addressed him. She, for her part, ignored him, leading Leda out of sight and into a tastefully furnished bedroom.

With the door closed, Leda found herself once more on the receiving end of that cool yet interested gaze. She stood perfectly still under those eyes, waiting patiently for something more to be said or done.

"I am Veronique," the sorceress introduced herself finally. "And you, Leda, are interesting enough that I am going to make you my pet project."

"Your pet project?" Leda repeated, uncertain of the meaning of the phrase.

"I understand that you are in the pocket of a Demon Lord," Veronique said matter-of-factly, turning toward an ornate free-standing wardrobe. Opening it, she began to rifle through the clothing there, drawing out dresses, skirts, tops as she spoke. "Even if you weren't, you'd be of interest. You radiate pure seduction, my dear. With the right tools, you could be irresistable."

"And which tools would these be?" Leda asked curiously, eyeing her in some confusion as various items of clothing were held up against her. Some were tossed onto the bed, others were replaced in the wardrobe.

"Clothing, to begin with," Veronique told her with a weary sigh. "Lovely as you are all served up on a platter like that, you could be even better wrapped in a perfect package. You will take these back to your room. And we had better do something about that uniform, as well."

Veronique turned to look at the half-breed once more. "You will dress as I tell you to," she said firmly. "You will wear your hair the way I teach you. You will not wear makeup unless I give you leave. Any accessories will be presented to me before you wear them outside your room. Later on, we'll cover the way you speak and present yourself, but before that, you need to learn that a well-turned out woman is far more attractive than a teenaged slut."

Fascinated, somehow not insulted, Leda obediently gathered together the surprisingly vast armful of clothes that had been tossed onto the bed, wondering exactly what was going on. But then, if the power this one radiated was any indication of her status within the school, staying on her good side would be a must. And perhaps Veronique could be useful to her in other ways, as well.

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-06-05 17:30 EST
{Viperfang Picnic}

It was then that a crystal clear voice rang across the gathered house. "Now, now, Cinder dearest. One must see the possibilities in allowing the... fortunate few... to view the possibilities. We might be able to cull potentials from the herd."

The other kindred of legacy used her words to twit at her peer. She had been on a leave of from her studies as she took a hand in bring her bloodline to heel. Seemed her erstwhile cousin thought he could usurp her birthright and she had been called to see to the judgement.

She had a slight smirk on her lips as tapped a perfectly manicured nail to them, "And any that get... too inquisitive can be easily dissuaded."

The enchantress' gaze went to her housemates and the interplays between them. She held herself outside of such things, looking to further the house.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-06-05 22:05 EST
(Commons, Xera's Homecoming)


The tease of Quillyan?s tone transformed into simple jubilation as she was swept into the rowdy embrace of the Azer, endless legs all a-jumble in the valiant struggle to stay vertical. A thrilled squeal or two, followed by rich peals of laughter, echoed her hip?s knock into an empty chair, while the following flustered pause was abbreviated by her immediate absorption back into the mad cavorting. Seconds later, before her footing fell into Xera?s rhythm, she haplessly stumbled into the half-drow pouring over his parchment.

?I?m sorry, I?m sorry!? she called over her shoulder to the disrupted Mage, wide-eyed and laughing still, her fingers clinging desperately to the guiding hands of her fellow ginger.

As their frolic faded, Quilly?s slender arms wound their way around the delicate shoulders of her diminutive partner, hugging her tightly and breathlessly exclaiming, ?Oh, things have been so boring here without you! Or at least for me. Just working-?

The novice?s account abruptly ceased as she, glancing over Xera?s shoulder, caught sight of the fiery form lingering on the peripheral of the room. ?Wait, who?s that??

Ozalynne

Date: 2011-06-07 18:51 EST
(Commons)

Questions and answers would have to wait as with a squealing glee the blue haired form of Ozalynne came catapulting through the Commons and launched herself at the gingered duo. Arms spread wide as she hugged and giggled and kissed...and well...kissed.

Pausing at the discomfort she might be causing Quillyan in her joyful reunion with her girlfriend, she'd blush, giggle, "Sorry," and seek to make it better by kissing Quillyan too.

"It's so sugaredsweet that you're back!" She'd exclaim upon finding a moment that her lips weren't busily occupied doing something else.

"Blizz is gonna FLIP!"

Ivinia Delirian

Date: 2011-06-07 19:16 EST
She stood in stone cold silence. Ice would've shivered at the chilly death stare she pinned the squirming twins with.

"Well...it's true." One of them finally stuttered though any vehemence she'd possessed at the start of the confrontation had long since bled away.

"A. Third. Rate. Enchantress." Ivinia repeated slowly, coldly, emphasizing the words they'd dared cast at her.

The girls had just seconds previously been enjoying their claim to fame (the attendance of the ViperFang soiree) and were now suddenly the center of attention as everyone waited with bated breath to see how this showdown was about to end.

The cold icy smile that curved the plush lips of the half-nymph shouldn't have managed to convey that much heat. Lavender eyes appeared to glow as the incantation began with but a slight humming vibration to her words, "Let's just see how third rate I am...shall we..." Purred as she leaned between them, drew their pretty little heads near her and whispered her desires.

Blinking in dazed confusion the girls pulled back and looked from Ivinia to each other. The gathered students who had been watching were straining to overhear what was spoken but their efforts were in vain.

Turning toward them with a bright smile, Ivinia announced, "I hope you all know how to swim, because the Storm Sabre Swim Party is ..." She paused. Looked at them closely. Peered even. Leaning forward as she sized each and every one of them up and down, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's invitation only." Cheerily she waved a hand, "If you get to come I'll see you there."

And with that she turned and strolled from the Conjuration room on a rolling sway of her hips that demanded attention. She'd about had enough of the other Houses standing above hers. In fact, if Vliss wasn't going to step up to the whole Hostess thing than Ivinia was about to show them all how it was done.

A small pang of regret stung her at the thought of giving up the location of her secret bath house in the lower quadrants of the school but the furor it would cause as people vied for an invite from Storm Sabre was well worth it. Well, that and the special show she'd arranged with the twin pets of Iameth's.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-06-08 10:11 EST
(Towards the end of the ViperFang party)

The plotting and politicking of the Viperfang party stretched through the evening hours, inspiring the patrons to fascinating excesses of ego and consumption. Throughout, the hostess issued spirits with vigor, refilling sparkling glasses each time the potent wine within was only half-depleted, exciting both indulgence and debauchery among the gathered students. With tongues loosened, they questioned and confessed, they made promises that would never be kept, they tasted the lips of others.

Throughout it all, Cinder remained unfazed by the intoxicating aura of the gathering, and for this reason, Bryn found herself fixing her attention more intently upon him, concerned for the mood of her illustrious housemate.

?Mage Havenloche,? she greeted as her slight, luxurious figure assumed a seat near his regal perch, her sweetly-velvet voice daring not to extend beyond a whisper. ?Are you sure there?s nothing I can get you??

?I?m certain,? he returned dryly, a set of preternatural eyes flickering over her concerned visage.

?One of Iameth?s twins, perhaps? Or both of them?? she offered, hope faintly lifting her tone as she leaned toward him, a tumble of her chocolate tresses spilling over a bare, beautifully-boned shoulder. ?I can call them over here. I?m sure they?d be more than willing to--?

?I?m fine,? he interrupted, pulling his gaze from the enticing softness of her flesh. In a terribly bold turn, the young necromancer?s right hand immediately extended, fingers taking purchase of his stone-perfect cheek and guiding his attention back. ?What about me?? she whispered, her plump red lips parted in awful anticipation after the trembling, foolish syllables vanished into the evening air.

The vampire?s sneer was mercilessly cold, but even as his tongue curled to lash rejection upon her, he breathed her closeness: the heady scent of wine on her breath, a faint perfume, her rushing blood, the scent of youth and arousal. Somehow she managed to elude the stench of death that clung to practitioners of her art. No, she was very much vibrant, alive; even her soulless eyes were softened by the warmth of her indulgence.

Iron fingers encircled her wrist, disturbing her unsolicited caress with a sharp jerk that tugged her well-adorned body closer, almost touching, as he twisted her hand to inspect the offending palm. Ignoring her small whimper, his thumb traced the crease of her life line down to her wrist, where a webbing of light blue veins throbbed in response to the surge of her heart under the rose-petal soft sheath of unblemished skin.

He spoke very slowly, very deliberately, his words edged with a feral growl. ?You forget, my dear, where you are. It would be very poor form indeed to submit yourself to my desires in the company of your peers.?

Bryn blinked several times, quickly, her eyes darting across the forgotten partygoers who were, for the most part, engaged in their own scheming. Cinder took the lapse of attention as an opportunity to pull her closer, so that the sleek lines of her body pressed entirely upon him, his free hand fixed at the delicate small of her back, fingertips stroking the delicious upper curve of her ass. If she had been inspired to struggle, it would have been futile against his supernatural grip, but she was absolutely still as his next words fell against the fragile shell of her, their low vibrations summoning a sensual shudder along her spine. ?Serve your guests,? he commanded. ?Afterwards, when they are gone, you may serve me.?

He released her, abruptly.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-06-08 10:15 EST
In the hour before dawn, when the majority of ViperFang had taken their leave, Bryn returned to the school. Cinder, who had excused himself soon after their encounter, stood half in shadow near the entrance, his typically-rigid posture a sensual lean against the stone wall. While no smile dared to trespass upon his pale lips, arrogant satisfaction resided in the unearthly gaze that greeted her return.

The vampire turned and stalked down the empty, dark hallway, and Bryn followed, senses softened by a mixture of wine and fatigue. So silent were his steps, so closely did his darkly-cloaked figure blend to the shadow, that she was forced to devote every ounce of her attention to the pursuit. She did not mark the hallways they crossed in the twisted labyrinth of passages, so when Cinder paused in front of an unfamiliar door in a mysterious hallway of a disregarded wing, she was quite disoriented. Upon her approach, he opened the door, his head inclining in a regal nod, beckoning her to enter first.

?Light,? he whispered as she passed into the pitch. Extending her palm, she summoned a small, glowing orb, strong enough to gently illuminate the interior. Stretching before her were a steep set of steps, descending to a level most certainly underground. As her feet - still bare and slightly soiled from the journey - picked a path down the sharp stairs, she could only sense Cinder?s presence at her back. The staircase eventually opened into a small room, empty but for a narrow, long table and a scattering of forgotten items, heaped in shadow near the peripheral.

?What is this place?? Bryn questioned, her voice calmly curious.

?The school used to be mental hospital. This room was probably used to seclude dangerous patients. Extinguish the light.?

The orb vanished, leaving the pair in utter blackness. Bryn, frozen by the sudden elimination of her vision, responded immediately with a bewildered cry, but the Vampire took no action. His keen senses allowed him to discern her slightest movements quite clearly: the tremble of her full bottom lip, the sway of negligible weight from one foot to the other.

Several seconds passed in devastating silence as he soundlessly prowled around the necromancer, studying her intently. She was an enigma: perfectly poised and diplomatic, yet possessing an inhuman imperviousness to many essential emotions that made her seem unforgivably vicious. What would it take arouse fear? Where would she break down? These limits he desired to discover, not only for his own curiosity, but for the good of the House.

Finally, he touched her, eliciting the faintest turn of her blind head towards the featherish brush of his icy fingers. They dragged across the shoulder he had coveted at the picnic, tracing her stately collarbone, and upon reaching the slender column of her neck, slid to the graceful span of her back. There, they moved to her mockery of a dress, expertly locating the tiny zipper pressed upon her spine. As he smoothly drew it down, his prey entirely stilled, as if savoring the loosening of her garment, but her basic functions persisted in a paradox: breath came slow, steady, but her heart raced furiously.

?Do you imagine that you will enjoy this?? he whispered as he brushed the straps from her shoulders, allowing the feminine frock to slip unaided from her slight figure.

?Yes.? The single syllable was devoid of doubt or the tremble of fear.

He withdrew soundlessly to study her anew, watching as the pale pink tips of her small breasts hardened into tiny nubs.

?You are foolish,? he chided. ?Hold out your hands.?

The apprentice complied immediately, and was rewarded with the sensation of cold metal - some type of rusting manacles - encircling her slender wrists. Eliminating any time for reaction, the chain between the shackles was instantly yanked upwards, issuing a painful jolt, and pulled to the extent that her waifish arms stretched high over her head, lengthening the lines of her body, forcing her feet to her toes. The aged metal cut cruelly into her wrists.

?I will enjoy this,? he breathed into her ear from behind, his chilled touch tracing the stripes of her ribs upward to her breast. ?You, my dear, will simply endure it.?

Leda

Date: 2011-06-11 13:38 EST


She rolls lazily onto her back as the first rays of bright sunlight touch her bare skin, brought to wakefulness not by the intrusion of daylight but by the rumbling purr from a familiar throat. Without opening her eyes, the half-breed lowers her hand, fingertips finding fur that smoothes over a rounded muzzle. She makes a soft sound in her own throat, and the jaguar leaps up onto the bed with her, casting aside the unwanted sheets to cover her nakedness with his warm feline stretch.

He is her secret, the bond between them the only thing she has ever managed to keep all to herself. To her master, Mogadon is as much a slave as she, bound in servitude to the half-breed as she is bound to serve the Demon Lord. Only she and the big cat know the secret held close to each heart, the strength of the ties that bind them. Even were they not soul-bonded, still would the jaguar keep company with the half-breed, for love of her. Just as she would stay true, for love of him.

Love ... that myth of the underworld, the story told to entice demonlings into their first ventures against mortal kind. It could not be real, and indeed, the half-breed Leda does not truly believe it to be so. She cannot think of anything that could entice her to give her heart to anyone, male or female; to give up what freedom and liberty she possesses to give what little she can call her own to another.

Yet she loves her familiar with a greedy love, jealous of the mates he has taken and will take again, hoarding every moment he chooses to spend with her in her heart. For how many slaves of the demonic planes can truly lay claim to friendship beyond all else with any soul not held in bondage and under duress?

Mogadon is hers, and she is his, and not even the tortures of Carnivean himself will loose the bonds that bind them tightly. They have travelled together since Leda's childhood, a life seemingly too long for a simple jaguar to endure, and yet he does endure it, never seeming to age as the years pass. He is drawn to the humanity in her that so few people see ... she, to the warmth that he alone has ever shown her. Together they are whole, and always shall be.

But Leda, be wary. You do not sleep alone in this sunlit room, nor are you ever free from spying eyes, be they friendly or hostile. Somehow, somewhere, someone will take note of the loving embrace of woman and cat, lolling together to soak up the heat of the sun in the opening hours of morning. And who can say what they will see, beyond the physical, in this realm of magic and myth?

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-06-12 23:15 EST
Almalthia rolled over feeling the light weight of Ginger's arm slip from her shoulder as the woman slumbered on in peaceful oblivion. Oceanic eyes slid slowly open to confirm what she already knew. Nil'aiha wasn't there. The sheets were still rumpled, his scent lingered on the bed, and as sensitive fingers splayed over the mattress where he had been she could even still detect the faint suggestion of body heat, though he had been up hours ago. Ginger moved in her sleep, a leg sliding over Almalthia's as she repositioned herself with a soft sigh.

The siren pursed her lips before disengaging from the woman and the tangle of limbs. The sheets shifted as a third female felt the change when the predatory woman moved, but never woke. She slipped silently from the bed, straightening with a languid stretch before her eye fell on the two sleeping women. It wasn't that she did not enjoys these trysts, she would not be there otherwise, but rather her need to keep her self in check. She shivered pleasantly as she recalled the night previous, slick hot flesh, soft bodies and hands roving boldly and freely where they would. It was in her nature to be savage,and would have ravaged the women mercilessly had Nil'aiha not kept her in check.

It was almost infuriating, to be so teased, such supple tender offerings made to her wantonly to have to restrain herself. It was, he insisted, necessary. She must learn to control the wild urges, withhold and tame centuries of instinct. Were he not an instructor, she might have eaten him. Even as they had indulged, tasting the pleasures of the taboo, women, men and even a select few of the student body, she had fantasized about sinking those eviscerating teeth into his sweet throat.

Even as he had strained beneath her, sweat slick and hard, she could practically taste him. She pulled herself violently from the reverie and stepped naked toward her crumpled uniform, shed carelessly on the floor the night before. Without a word, she slipped into it and ran her fingers through the wild multi-hued mane of hair. Let her hands wander down her body lingeringly as she smoothed it out. Dark blue eyes flicked to the two sleeping females before she opened the door. They would sleep a while yet. They were, after all, only human. She didn't bother to conceal where it was she came from as she threaded the halls from Nil'aiha's personal chamber. She didn't need to.

The only one who would be roaming at this hour was Sartha and she avoided him easily. The last time he caught her she had tormented him so that he had to hastily leave her smirking in the hall. Not even the minotaur was immune to her charms and while he had the restraint to walk away, it was with some...difficulty and along empty corridors. It would not do for a stray student to see something like that. She returned to her own dorm, and stripped herself to slip into the tank she had conjured for her own comfort. Filled with fresh ocean water it helped sooth her feral nature, the tension melting away as she floated serenely submerged. Her eyes drifted closed, gills fluttering wing-like as she made the transformation, legs merging to become a powerful tail, glimmering sapphire scales and flowing fins and flukes. So she slumbered a while as though a creature on brazen display, bare breasted and suspended in silence.

Cadence Smyth

Date: 2011-06-13 14:20 EST
She'd heard about a pool party and there was no way she was going to miss out on it. Invitation only. Hmm, she flipped through her choices with a glance around the Commons. Blizzard was the obvious one, after all he was her go-to concert buddy, but he might feel a little obligated to not bring a date while bringing his girlfriends...

...the bard turned a glance across the room on Esteban and blushed. No way she'd work up the courage to ask him, besides everybody now knew that he and Angelica were an item.

She was making this much too difficult she realized as her moody roommate dropped a tray of food on the table beside her and snarled, "Didn't I ask you to stop wearing that flowery shit? I couldn't stop sneezing after you sprayed it this morning."

"Good morning, Mystri." Cadence chimed cheerfully, "I tell you what, I'll toss it out if you'll do me one little favor..."

"Mm? What?" Mystri had already coiled herself into the seat across from her and was chewing on a bagel, "Oh don't worry about it. I already tossed it out for you."

"See I was think you could..wait you threw out my perfume?!" Startled, Cadence lost her train of thought for a moment.

"Yea, I figured you'd appreciate it considering the other option was to maul you in a fit of rage."

"You wouldn't. You're all growl, Myst." The bard fondly teased, "Though you'd think you'd want my help at this upcoming pool party..."

"What?" Mystri blinked at her roommate in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"Ivinia is throwing a StormSabre pool party. I could help you find a bikini and--"

"A what." Flatly.

"A bikini, you know a swimsuit that flatters your," She paused at the glowering look, "Okay so you'll just shapeshift. You don't need me. But I want to goooooooo...." She playfully wailed.

"Well then Go." The dark look had not improved any as Mystri continued to pick over her chosen meal.

"Really? You're inviting me?" Cadence grinned.

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"You're the bestest!" She jumped up and kissed Mystri quick before dancing off with a wave.

"I guess that's what I just did then." Muttered.

Leda

Date: 2011-06-14 16:34 EST


There was a great deal more to learning magic than simply manipulating the power she was already aware of. Leda was slowly coming to terms with this, putting in far more hours in the library and study halls than she had ever expected to. Of course, if she wasn't there, then she was usually being detained by one or other of the tutors for crossing the line, or delightedly tormenting the innocent patrons of the Red Dragon Inn, be they friendly or hostile to her.

But despite her enjoyment of this pasttime, she was aware that her continued existence relied on excelling in this school, and her previously untapped reserves of patience and intelligence were coming to the fore to assist in this endeavor. She was confident that in a few weeks' time she would be entirely caught up with the classes in Evocation and Conjuration, given her natural talents, and would be beginning to offer competent responses in her other basic classes.

All except Arcane Dialect. The half-breed just couldn't get her head around the need to think in a dead language in order to cast a conventional spell; she had never needed to do this in the past. And Master Mistmark was unlikely to tolerate her lack of understanding for long. Hence the tiring time now being spent trying to at least memorise certain phrases; perhaps if she could reel them off without thinking about it, she would be able to fool the master into believing she was improving ...

"Working late again, Leda?"

She lifted her head, leaning back in her seat to offer a slow, weary smile to Benedykt. The elitist Air Elementalist seemed to have decided that being the favoured slave of a Demon Lord made her of equal rank with himself, if not higher, and therefore worthy of his attention. And given the amount of time Veronique was insisting Leda spend in their wing, learning all sorts of nonsense (in Leda's opinion), he was used to her presence by now.

"I am a conscientious student," she answered him, the usually silken whisper of her voice made harsh by lack of use in the dusty confines of the bookshelves.

"You are deliberately avoiding Veronique today." He certainly didn't beat around the bush, did he? Lowering himself into the seat beside her, Benedykt cast his eyes over the tome she had been reading before closing it, demanding her full attention. His arm slid along the back of her chair as he leaned in close, his icy pale eyes focusing tight on her own black gaze. "Why?"

Leda was speechless for a moment. He'd never volunteered himself to be so close to her before; she assumed Veronique had promised him something if he managed to get a straight answer from her. From what Leda had seen, Benedykt would do anything for the Overseer of his House, including her, if he had to.

Her gaze lingered on his lips - a bad habit she really must learn to break - before lifting to meet his eyes. She wasn't shy of him, quite the opposite; she just didn't trust his motives. "She has been in a foul humor," she told him with a sensuous shrug of one shoulder. "I have no desire to be her whipping boy for no reason."

Benedykt's grin was amused, touched with the darkened flame of primal attraction as Leda's unconscious aura of seductive compulsion wrapped about him, battling with his defenses. "She needs a spy," he informed Leda, his voice dropping low as his hand left the back of the chair, smoothing down her side to draw her close. "StormSabre are holding a gathering. Invitation only. And we certainly won't be invited."

"But I may?" His breath was now on her neck, her head tilted obligingly for his pleasure as he breathed in the spicey scent that clung to her no matter what perfumes Veronique doused her in.

"You may," he agreed. "If you do, if you agree to be her eyes and ears at this pool party of theirs, you may yet be offered a place in SatyrKiss." Leda felt a low shiver tingle down her spine as his lips, cool against her preternaturally hot skin, pressed to the sensitive swathe of flesh beneath her ear. "Where you belong."

The seductress seduced, and with so little effort. But if she wished more, Leda knew what she had to do. Somehow, she would have to get herself an invitation to this party. And to do that, she would have to make a few new friends.

Leda

Date: 2011-06-15 02:36 EST


Unseen hands do their best and worst, divesting her of clothing already destroyed by cruel claws, leaving her writhing, whimpering, pleading for more against the cool sands as the moon followed her age-old course across the sky above, the only witness to an unspoken promise fulfilled by proxy ...

She crept into her bed just as dawn was breaking, weak as a half-drowned kitten but satisfied beyond imagining. No one had warned her that Duel of Magic could be so ... stimulating. She would have been ecstatic had she only come away without defeat, but her reward for that second victory had been pleasure that struck to her very bones.

... bodies of male and female, warm and smooth beneath her palms, yet invisible even to her eyes, press close to surround her on the scratching sands, touching her, tasting her, filling every last sense with rising, inexorable, carnal pleasure until she cries out his name, unwilling to take this agony of ecstasy any longer ...

Hoping not to wake her sleeping roommate, she stripped herself of her tattered clothing, paying no heed to the stinging burn of her master's hand on her arm. It stung with the salt of her sweat-slicked skin, evidence of exertions she was lucky no one had remained to witness on the Isle.

... still they torment her, denying her what she begs for, what she demands, what she is close to crying out for. Naked, alone to the observing eye, she shudders and writhes beneath the delightful torture of those unknown, unseen, powerful forms, denied her wish to see her spellcast lovers, to taste them and hear their moans joined with her own ...

Crawling beneath her sheets, she slumped, exhausted but too restless to sleep just yet. Mogadon, her jaguar familiar, leaned over her, scenting the last vestiges of her arousal, the lingering aroma of erotic conquest. He offered her a lick of his rasping tongue, watching with wicked feline humor as she moaned and shivered, one hand rising to weakly urge him away from doing it again. She couldn't take anymore, not tonight.

... at last her wish is granted, the shifting heat of male and female pinning her between them as her body is taken, used, pleasured beyond the extremes of human endurance. But she is not human, and so she endures, calling out her throbbing need for release to the cold, unfeeling stars as within and without her helpless form, she is brought to the brink over and again, never once allowed to find solace in the blissful peak of ultimate delight ...

The jaguar draped himself over her quivering form, warming skin that had been chilled by her creep through the hallways as she wrapped her arms about him affectionately. Her weariness was winning the battle for supremacy, dulling the restless tremble of her limbs until she hovered on the brink of slumber.

... that release, when finally allowed, is thorough and abrupt, extending white-hot ecstasy into an eternity of fire and friction and pulsing, yearning pleasure. And even as her body fights to recover, gasping for breath, grasping to gather her senses back to some form of normalcy, her unseen lovers remain, touching, tasting, thrusting, kissing, until she is thrown once more into the oblivion of lustful completion, to begin the cycle again and again as the night wanders toward the dawn ...

A night to remember, certainly. As Leda finally drifted off into a deep slumber, a smile remained upon her lips ... weary, yes, but wickedly sinful. A mage whose name itself was the passport to ecstasy; whose grasp of his discipline was so complete as to torture a body with pleasure from afar; who had lost to her in a duel, and yet chose to reward her for her victory with invisible lovers that left her gasping, eager to know now what he felt like.

Oh, yes. She would definitely be visiting the duels on the Twilight Isle again.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-06-15 11:24 EST
In the broad light of day, as students bustled through the corridors on a myriad assortment of tasks, not in the slightest being recovering from a hangover from the night before, SARTHA stormed on a thundering set of hooves and sent them scurrying for safety.

While not known for his niceties, he was rarely seen in such a state. His eyes rolled wildly about in his skull and his shaggy head swung in awful agitation as he snorted.

So frightening was his appearance that not one, but two, novices fainted dead away upon the sight of him.

He paid them no heed as he arrived at Nobilis Wing. The impact of his horns upon the door echoed on a reverberating gong of a sound. Seconds later, the shaken doorman at the luxurious suite was seen flying down the hall, end over end, like a ragdoll that the minotaur no longer wished to play with.

The bloodcurdling scream of angered indignation ended quite abruptly from somewhere within the suite shortly after his admittance.


Eleyna Drachenwylde was seen pale-faced and shaken as she rushed from the room. And continuing on the list of rare sightings, Chika Kokuri was only seconds behind her. Where the Numidor twins were remained anybody's guess...

...though the rumors abounded.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-06-15 12:29 EST
{Chamber Borage}

She needed time to think. She needed...she wasn't sure what she needed. Distraught she had almost followed Brais after the uncomfortable confrontation in the gardens but instead found herself seeking out Blizzard. What was it about the former pugilist that made him the best option when she needed to talk?

She'd searched the school-grounds, lost in her darkening thoughts, and finally had arrived at the Infirmary hoping on the last chance that he might be getting his hand looked at.

And instead she'd chanced upon Ashriel.

Theirs was a tense standoff. Her dismay at being manipulated by Iameth had translated to the other half of his existence. She'd been used too many times before. Manipulated, twisted, nearly destroyed by men who saw her only has a plaything and she'd be a fool to believe anything the Overseer of a rival house had to say.

His refusal to leave her be had resulted in a floodgate of recriminations. She'd unloaded on him in a stream of disjointed emotions: anger and fear being the most prominent.

He'd responded by sweeping her up in his arms and leaping out the nearest window.

Of all the responses she'd expected, this was the farthest from her mind.

He'd taken her flying.

The sensation of being cradled against him as the wind washed over her was simply, blissful. At one point he'd floated above the school and in his harmonic voice opened a window into Fleur's damaged soul, "It's just a building, Fleur. Look at it. It's just a school made up of bricks and mortar."

The revelation was foundation shaking. She'd gone from one patriarchal family structure to another. Beneath her father's rule she had been biddable, beneath Mistmark's manipulation she'd been pliable, and now she strove for nothing more than to be forever beneath Arkon Daraul's control. While forever linking herself to Brais Galician.

The painful beat of her heart warned her that this was not a realization that she could dismiss.

She needed, it would seem, Time.

Time to sort this out. Time to understand if the man she loved was really the cold bastard that Vliss maintained he was. Was Brais the man who made love to her, cooked her dinner at the end of a long day, and gazed at her with such affection that she felt cherished? Or was Brais the man who made students tremble when he approached, lashed out in a rage against innocents like Leda, or deserved the reproach of normally levelheaded friends like Vliss?

She couldn't talk to him about it. The last time he'd been brutal in his reclamation of their love.

And that memory is what finally spurred her past even Damien's helpful advice.

She needed Time.

My Dearest Brais,

This letter will undoubtedly anger you. I want you to know that it pains me to write it. It destroys me to know that my actions will assuredly cause you hurt but I cannot ignore my fears any longer. Your temper is frightening. Your callous treatment of that poor girl in the gardens...I can't stand by and simply accept it. I love you Brais. I see our futures forever intertwined. I will someday by your wife. This is what I want, what I desire. What I hope for. But, I can't accept such cruelty from you. I simply can't. It would be a lie if I were to pretend otherwise. I will not lie to you, my love. I will not lie to us.

I need time. You need time. We need to find a way to deal with this. Please understand that this is not easy for me and please forgive me for hurting you.

~Fleur.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-06-15 14:39 EST
Classes were tedious, and she found herself skulking the lower reaches of the school again. A chance encounter had her given an impromptu introduction to Ozalynne, Brais, and Quilly, though she had not been terribly impressed by any of them. Brais, she had noted had rather an imperious attitude she found fascinating and irritating together. The boy seemed to think he was above the Quilly girl, and that attitude had seemed validated by the girl's apparent fear. The siren could not see what it was that had prompted the blue-haired Ozalynne to so eagerly mimic him either. He wasn't particularly attractive, muscular or from her limited knowledge, high ranked. So what was it?

Almalthia's reverie was interrupted as she heard the familiar crashing hooves of SARTHA storming off somewhere, and frowned as she found her train of thought derailed. Well, she would deal with that later. She always did enjoy tormenting the minotaur, and would leave him in such a state...... She smiled to herself, sharp teeth exposed to none but her own thoughts. The minotaur never even seemed to have mentioned her tormenting habits to anyone. No faculty members had approached her and told her to stop so she assumed he was either secretly enjoying her games or didn't want to admit she could get under his fur.

She sighed and surfaced from her tank just as she heard a knock on the door. Of course. She thought bitterly. Never a dull moment, nor a moment's peace. "Enter." The whisper amplified only enough to allow the supplicant to hear and enter the room. Almalthia was mildly surprised to see Eleyna standing mildly in the doorway. She didn't seem to mind the siren's nudity even as she changed from the powerful tail to legs, swinging them over the edge of the tank to land lightly on newly formed feet. "What need?" It was highly unusual for the girl to talk to anyone, even those in Gorgon Horn were rarely associated with.

The two females sized each other up silently, Almalthia casually slipping into a robe as the girl met her gaze evenly. Most of the other students quavered as soon as she smiled at them but Eleyna didn't so much as blink. After an eternity or two she spoke, her voice smooth and confident, as though she didn't care who it was she addressed. "Stormsabre is having a pool party." Almalthia shrugged, her eyes flickering through several colors in rapid succession. "So? Not care what do. Why bother for this?" Eleyna almost smiled. The siren was quick to catch on. "While it is true I don't much care for the social niceties, and obviously you could care less, I think perhaps it might be wise to use this chance to learn more about the inner working of our rival house."

"Why?" Came the purred reply. Almost a taunt, yet that voice made it hard to get angry or even focus on anything other than the user's will. Eleyna didn't flinch, she had been prepared for the siren's charm, though inwardly she struggled to keep her outward composure. "For the benefit of our own house of course." "Why me? Know not care, status." Giving the younger female a hard look. "You have certain...advantages that could be helpful in the gathering of information that might otherwise be closely guarded. Men particularly have difficulty resisting your...charms. And," She added. "The furthering of our house is sure to have it's rewards. There must be something one such as yourself might want....."

Almalthia didn't like the smile now on the girl's lips. self satisfied and too knowing. But she couldn't give a concrete reason not to do this. "Will consider. Meantime suggest leave." "As you wish." Eleyna smiled and exited closing the door behind her. The siren might be useful in forwarding her own agenda. Almalthia stared at the closed door a few moments before donning her uniform. She was soon on her way to the commons to take out her frustrations on the first unlucky first year she would encounter.

((Thanks Brais for the correction i was so tired I totally missed it. it WAS Quilly not Fleur an' my ass needs coffee))

Khordan Rhylos

Date: 2011-06-15 15:38 EST
Sylvaticum Wing - settling in

The last few days had been, in a word, hectic.

He had immersed himself in his classes, working to catch up with others who had arrived the few weeks ahead of him. The classes were engaging, though he was finding he was having a bit of trouble with illusions. The incantations themselves were not complicated, but he never quite could conjure what he was imagining when casting the spell. Madame LaCroix had been kind enough to send him back to Sylvaticum with an armful of scrolls that she said would help him with the mechanics.

He had passed Danilo on the way in, giving the mage a nod as he slipped passed the looming were. He hadn?t had a chance to speak much with Danilo or Brizia other than the pleasantries due to the hectic schedule; in fact he had only glimpsed the half-elf in passing. Lovely, but she was very quick, vanishing as though a spectre before he could get a word out. Ah well, he?d have to make amends. Ebonique, on the other hand, had made for a very interesting evening. They had talked long into the night one eve about the finer points of divinations and illusions, and had come away with not only a few new ways to look at the art of divining information, but with a healthy respect for the rakshasa and her desires to meet her goals. He had also sat an evening with Ilyona, swapping stories about his older brother. It had been a pleasant evening, bringing back memories of roaming the hills above his home with his brother.

Now, he sat at his desk, finishing the last of the transcription of spells into the new spellbook. He was perhaps blissfully unaware of many of the undercurrents around the school, having been thus far pretty much buried into his studies, but the stomping of Sartha couldn?t be ignored. He looked up toward the door leading from Sylvaticum, and winced on hearing the loud ruckus. ?Yeouch?? Closing his book and setting it to the side he stood and moved to the door to chance a peek out. Shaking his head and silently grateful that he wasn?t in the minotaur?s path he started the other way, toward the commons. It would give him time to think, perhaps engage in his hobby of people-watching and mentally prepare for his first meeting with his assigned mentor, Elizabeth.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-06-15 20:06 EST
Mercedes know Angel took Esteban back to the dorm room. So Cedes went to the infirmary instead. The one stern look from Madam Evahlys know she was in trouble. She quietly went over to the bed they gave her. ?You dumb little child.? Evahlys started going on her. ?Dueling under your condition I am surprise it didn?t kill you.? Cedes didn?t say anything. She just kept quiet. She felt weak. And voices started to pick up in her ears. ?You better start listening to me?.or I am going to the head mistress.?

Leda has scared her. Her dark blue eyes glanced to the older woman. ?I am sorry.? she said quietly. Leda knew she touched by evil. She talk about her master. Why couldn?t she tell everyone what she done, they spell she had place. Maybe Angel could have forgive her. Tears slide down her cheek as she laid her head down.

This curse is her doing?. She bury her face in the pillow. How can she tell them what she done. She is going to get in so much trouble with the school. She knows she need to come clean. Evahlys watched the girl laid down and grab some potion for her. ?Drink all of it, Mercedes.? Mercedes obey. She made a small face at the taste of the potion. She felt herself getting sleep. Trying to fight the feeling. She whiped her tears and scribbles a small note. Not a spell if it was a spell Evahlys would have throw it away.


Albion, Esteban, Angel, Leda

I need help. I need to speak with the three of you.

Cedes


The note move into four little notes and fly through the air for who ever to find. Cedes finally laid her head down, her blue eyes closed due to the potion and her duel with Leda.

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-06-15 21:35 EST
My Dearest Brais,

This letter will undoubtedly anger you. I want you to know that it pains me to write it. It destroys me to know that my actions will assuredly cause you hurt but I cannot ignore my fears any longer. Your temper is frightening. Your callous treatment of that poor girl in the gardens...I can't stand by and simply accept it. I love you Brais. I see our futures forever intertwined. I will someday by your wife. This is what I want, what I desire. What I hope for. But, I can't accept such cruelty from you. I simply can't. It would be a lie if I were to pretend otherwise. I will not lie to you, my love. I will not lie to us.

I need time. You need time. We need to find a way to deal with this. Please understand that this is not easy for me and please forgive me for hurting you.

~Fleur.

As he read the letter for the second time, words were consumed by flame. Eyes traversed the script, igniting it along the way, until finally there was nothing left but ash floating to the floor at his feet. Though nothing was there, he continued to stare at where the missive had been in his now empty hand, a blistering war engaged between rage and disbelief.

How dare she abscond.

Thoughts took a twist then, recalling the words she had used.

...that poor girl in the gardens...

The demon.

It was she who was manipulating Fleur, bending her to see him not as her love, but as this monster. He was not the monster. She, that novice, was.

He, the slayer of Cambions, had seen this form of collusion many times throughout his career of macabre. He had even felt it; her aura of arousal seeking to penetrate the barriers he had spent a life time erecting. His defense had sustained, but not without enduring her will.

She was strong, and if allowed to live she would only become stronger.

From over his shoulder a pair of glowing eyes parted to reveal the presence of another, their height indicative of a looming presence that was otherwise unseen.

A servant of the conjurer.

"Go and seek out the half-blood. Watch her from afar. Remain hidden."

Those luminescent eyes shifted in what appeared to be a bow and then turned and started away, fading from view completely with just a few steps.

The novice was worthy of a servant, but Fleur....beloved Fleur...she would be rewarded with his personal efforts. If she wished to sever their braided devotion then she would do so before him, not from afar.

There would be no note.

The very thought made him snarl, the discharge of power resulting in the sudden and simultaneous detonation of every picture frame in the room. The Mage stalked out, leaving images of he and Fleur shattered and broken upon the floor.

How fitting.

Leda

Date: 2011-06-16 08:36 EST


The rampaging of the minotaur into Nobilis Wing barely touched the weary consciousness of the half-breed slave, curled upon her bed with her familiar, surrounded by books and notes. Her cloak lay across her knees, stubbornly refusing to take even the faintest glimmer of enchantment despite her best efforts. All because she couldn't actually put the spell into the dialect that would have the best effect.

Swearing in dae, the demon-language of her childhood, Leda cast the cloak aside, frowning impotently at her lack of progress. She was frustrated with herself; despite her natural abilities, the strength that the teachers praised, she was failing to complete the one task that had been set her to accomplish outside of her academic catch-up. Perhaps she should ask help from one of the other students ...

Beside her, Mogadon suddenly stiffened, his great feline head rising to peer into the shadows of the room, suspicion clouding his form. Accordingly, Leda followed his gaze, slower to become aware of what had alarmed her friend. But she did feel it.

Someone ... something ... was watching her. Unseen, hidden, cloaked in a manner she could not penetrate, but nonetheless there. No one survived long in Pandemonium without knowing how it felt to be watched with suspicious, even hostile, eyes. Her frown deepened a moment as she laid her hand upon Mogadon's back.

"Ignore it," she advised finally. "To watch is not to harm. If it comes out of the shadows, then we shall see what may be done."

The jaguar snarled a little, unhappy with her decision, but Leda was already distracted by a rustle of paper insinuating itself beneath the crack of her door. The folded parchment fluttered over to her, unfolding and laying itself flat on her lap, the inked words almost still glistening as though so recently written.

Albion, Esteban, Angel, Leda

I need help. I need to speak with the three of you.

Cedes

Her frown returned once more, this time touched with curious concern. 'Cedes needed help; it could not be a continuation of their last meeting, when passion stirred in the innocent girl knowingly seduced by a half-breed and her inhuman heat. No, it required the assistance of Esteban and Angel, and this Albion, of whom she had heard and seen nothing. But this was a request from a friend - the first Leda could truly be said to have made since arriving here. It could not be ignored.

The paper fluttered on her lap, pinned down from flying away by a large velveted paw while Leda searched the debris of academia on her bed for a quill and ink. Locating them, she scribbled a reply in her awkward printed hand, blotting and smudging until it was almost incomprehensible. Released, the little note took to the air again, slipping beneath the crack in the door to return to 'Cedes' with Leda's answer.

'Cedes,

Whatever you require, be it within my power I shall comply. Be safe, my friend.

Leda

Leda

Date: 2011-06-18 16:06 EST


Leda had not slept. The party offered by House StormSabre had given her so much to think on, so much to worry over, that though she lay silent in her bed, curled about the comforting purr of Mogadon, the peace of oblivion would not come to her. Thoughts crowded her mind; of the inner workings of the school, of steel hidden within voluptuous softness, of hostility easily riled and suspicions unspoken. Of how very alone she was here, in this place she did not know or understand.

She rose before dawn, dressed in silence, took herself to the musty seclusion of the Library in a vain attempt to distract herself from those thoughts that plagued her. Her steps took her to a forgotten alcove, one she believed no other made use of, and there she curled up once again in the darkness, black eyes gazing into the middle distance, seeing nothing but a replaying of the events of the night.

Of those she knew, those who had been there, who could she trust? No one. Khoom was not a part of this school, and in any case, his amorous desires were his only concern. Mage Tanner, her mentor, was the property of Mage Arcanum, and that female's jealousy of the demon-bred familiarity Leda could not help but share with Damien put paid to any hope of confiding her uncertainties to him. Angel and Esteban were their own comfort; they would not appreciate an intrusion, even one innocent of anything but friendship alone.

The Sorceress, Fleur, looked on her with distraught suspicion, that much was clear. The encounter in the garden with Brais had done far more damage than Leda could ever have imagined. Ivinia, so warmly welcoming, so eager for fresh blood to share her intimacy with; yet it was she who had spoken with venom, seeking to draw blood with words so carefully wrapped in succulent invitation.

Albion, the academic, the one who spoke with her most on a par, not allowing himself to be drawn in by the force that seemed to provoke tenderness or hostility in everyone; she could not go to him without provoking the violence of his bond-mate, Mystriana. The shifter had calmed when Leda surrendered, but still, the half-breed would not risk such a confrontation again.

Of them all, the only one whom Leda might be able to trust with her fears was Mercedes. But the girl was so troubled, so much in fear of her own living nightmares, so longing for the confidence of a lover to soothe her inexperience with passion. Leda would not burden one already burdened with her own difficulties.

She had learned much in those few hours spent in revelry. Much that Veronique would be impatient to learn as the day moved on. But why had the Overseer of House SatyrKiss recruited her to perform such espionage? Surely one of her own house - Gina, perhaps, or Benedykt himself - surely they could have manipulated for themselves an invitation to the gathering. Why had she been chosen, manipulated into obeying?

The answer came sooner than she wished for. As the morning wore on, students began to wander into the library, to further their studies in quiet reflection. None noticed the trouble half-breed where she sat, hidden in her alcove of darkness and dust. But she heard them. She heard all too clearly as familiar voices discussed matters not far from where she was concealed.

"... wasn't a success?"

"Oh, it was a great success, I promise you. With Veronique's games, there is no chance in Hades the succubae spawn will be invited to join any of the other houses. She made sure of that."

"How do you know this?"

"She told me what she was planning. In fact, she asked me to make sure the information just happened to drop straight into the lap of that over-made-up slut, Ivinia. That thing who calls herself Leda will never be welcome to any gathering again."

"Well done ... very well done, Gina. I admit, I had thought Veronique was losing her mind, spending so much time on such a lowly specimen, but now I see why. With Viperfang, StormSabre, and GorgonHorn turned against her, Leda will have no option but to seek refuge with us."

"Yes! And Veronique says she will let me watch when she tells the little b*tch that she's not even worthy to be the dirt on our boot heels. Oh, Benedykt, isn't it fabulous? We'll drive the scum out of the school and then her master will kill her for being utterly useless to him!"

"As it should be. I don't know what the Deaconess was thinking, allowing a slave into the Institute ..."

The voices trailed away, leaving Leda enmeshed in hot, angry silence. She had been used. Manipulated to set everyone against her so that the fine elite of SatyrKiss could drive her to her death without a single thought spared for her fate by anyone. She had fallen for their lies, their trickery, enticed with the promise of carnal intimacy that she craved in her blood to the point of blind obedience. Who knew what would be done to anyone who befriended her ... to sweet, frightened Mercedes, the only friend she had made here in this hellhole of a school. She could not allow anyone to suffer for her sake.

Within hours, every scrap of kindness forwarded to her by those who called themselves SatyrKiss had been rejected. In a very public, humiliating procession that wound through the corridors with loud protestations, the Vaden carried back everything Leda owned to its original owners. Clothing was left strewn all over Veronique's suite; quills and ink scattered over Benedykt's desk; even the notes given to her by Gina to assist in her catching up with their studies were returned, deliberately blotted and smudged. No one in the school could be unaware of the snub, delivered so openly by the succubae spawn.

And now she truly was alone.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-06-18 16:32 EST
The touch of nails scraped along smooth, dark, flesh with an arousing harmonic, piquing the ears as to what could be if just a trace more pressure was applied.

They had already shredded the blouse that covered that sensuous skin and now hinted at a hunger to do the same to the velvet veil covering blood and bone.

The conversation that Ebonique had originally engaged in died off hours ago, and since then her body had been molded and utilized in ways that she had never known possible. She was certain that Iameth?s persuasion was aided by the sway of magic, and yet even with this knowledge she didn?t seem to care.

As long as he didn?t stop.

Recumbent upon the lavish bed, her fingers clenched handfuls of sheets that had been torn from the corners long ago, needing to hold onto something as control was ripped away. Eyes pried open to watch the twin black horns and hood of lavender locks undulating and bobbing between her splayed thighs, delivering a powerful pleasure that pulsated toward liquid elation upon the tip of a forked tongue.

The earthshattering crescendo of his ministration seized tired muscle and strained weak limbs, swaying her in and out of consciousness. ??stop?? She whimpered as hips trembled beneath the powerful eruption. ??I can?t?I ?not any more?.?

He did not. Not until his yearning was sated and she was nearly licked clean.

When finally assuaged he withdrew from the cradle of her spread legs, lifting up to his knees. His lips, sensual and full, were coated with the glistening spoils of his exploration as he grinned down at her like a predator who had just found its prey.

?It seems you are an endless well.? He chimed as his hands fell to her knees, keeping her legs open for his descending perusal. ?An infinite stream of release.?

Those dark limbs shuddered, seeking to close and yet too feeble to do so. Her head lolled to the side with the fading remnants of her climax. ?Or, Sorcerer, perhaps you are just a grueling taskmaster whose determination to find the end of my?supply?is limitless.?

He considered it with a devilish grin that revealed multiple fangs. ?That could be it, my dear. Though I can assure you?? He whispered as his right hand dropped into the valley of her thighs to deliver a single stroke to that tender flesh. ??there are some things worth searching for.?

Hips jolted with a rippling effect that left her entire body quivering, a feral purr comingling with her moan. ?You tease too much.?

?Don?t we all?? His words were faint whispers as he watched that alluring body shiver beneath his grasp. ?Though it would seem that I am not the only one who teases, my dark lover. Dangling your House loyalty before me and yet offering no commitment.? The left hand joined the right, bleeding a touch downward along the inside of her thighs, lightly dragging those deadly claws once more against her flesh.

Her mewl was truly feline, a sound that mere humans couldn?t conjure, as she fought off the natural reaction to close her legs. She endured his pleasurable taunt from knee to hip. ?Commitment? Hmmm, sorry Iameth. Not my strong suit.?

?A fault easily overlooked.? He took her by the thighs and, with otherworldly strength, effortlessly flipped her onto her stomach. Like most cats, Ebonique tried to scurry away when forced onto her belly, but the clench of his hands upon her waist drew her up and back, onto her hands and knees until her taut backside collided with the masculine plane of his hips. Her struggle ended with a submissive moan.

?Is this your plan, Sorcerer?? She asked in a husky voice a moment later; tawny pools, drowning in lust, cast over the slope of her shoulder. ?To just f-k me into your house??

?The thought had crossed my mind.? He admitted, his thumb descending to brush a gentle touch across the body?s most taboo offering. ?Would it work??

Her back bowed, the incessant grind of her haunches against his hips aiding in the exploration of that wicked thumb. Hours ago she wouldn?t have understood its purpose, but now she was no longer ignorant to such libidinous activity. ?Do you fear it won?t? That all of this effort on your part will go for naught??

The tips of deadly talons indented the taut flesh along her hips, once more scraping lines in smooth skin as he drew her back for another delicious collision. A once flaccid instrument had begun to rekindle, its heavy weight adding to the sensual impact with every new sway. ?Not at all. Even if you decline?again?the outcome would be well worth it based solely on the attempt.?

That distinct rhythmic slap began to fill the room, its languid pace indicative of a building pressure ? yet that sound was interrupted occasionally by mewls and whimpers forced from pressed lips. The thrum of desire began to surge again through Ebonique?s weak limbs, though the pant of breath drawn through heaving breasts refuted its return. ?You can?t be serious?? She whispered. ??you?re going to kill me?you?re going to split me in half.?

As though to emphasize exactly how serious he was the arch of swaying hips grazed her ripe and exposed treasure with the steep tip of his arousal, nearly conquering her slick entry then and there. ?That wouldn?t be such a bad way to go, would it?? His purr was not nearly as feline as hers; akin to something far more wicked.



************************************************** ***********



?She is well on the way.? Iameth said, reclined upon the long burgundy sofa that took center-stage inside the lounge. ?Just another visit or two.?

Cinder?s quill was set to work, the podium he stood at an accommodating perch for his thick tome ? the infamous Viperfang ledger. It was rumored that stored within the pages of the Ledger were secrets pertaining to not only the agenda of the Institute?s most influential House, but tidbits of information about nearly every student within the school. It was eternally kept under the undead of eye of Mage Havenloche and thus its safety was never called into question. ?And what of Khordan Rhylos??

A grape was plucked from the sprig and sent high into the air, its downward plummet met by the serpentine sway of Iameth?s neck, landing upon his tongue. ?He belongs to Cadence.?

?Cadence?? Cinder?s question was asked with uncertainty. ?I wouldn?t exactly wager that she is up for such persuasion.?

?You?d be mistaken, my ancient friend. Sweet, beautiful, delicious, Cadence would be more than willing to help usher in a new pledge for the House, especially if presented as though it were an individual achievement. Have you not seen the way she fawns over awards and accolades?? Another grape plucked and devoured. ?She?ll succeed.?

The concern that lingered in Cinder?s glowing eyes went unvoiced as he returned to the script, quill quickly at work once more. ?And?Brizia?ndaran Teken?irrt? Hmmm, nevermind. She is the sister of Elkinid?qualn. I think it?s safe to assume that Gorgonhorn already has their powdered hooks in her.?

?Not so fast.? The Sorcerer replied as he kicked his legs over the arm of the couch, sitting up to stare at Cinder with empty lavender eyes. ?How great would it be to have siblings torn between warring houses??

?It sounds like it could be a masterful ruse to allow unwanted eyes and ears into our business. The last thing we need is to take on Brizia under the assumption that she is loyal to Viperfang only to find out that she?s been deceiving us all along.?

?You need more grey in your pallet of colors.? Iameth said with a grin. ?There are ways to discern such trickeries. We?ll either have a piece of the Gorgonhorn puzzle or, if she is lying, we?ll be able to feed Thea Pausanias inaccurate information and lead them by an unseen leash. Win, win.?

?Sinister.? Cinder muttered as he glanced back down to those large pages.
Iameth was already scheming how he would approach the svelte dark elf, leaning back into the lush comfort of the couch as he nodded in approval to the Vampire.

?Sinister indeed.?

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-06-18 17:58 EST
{Listeria Wing}

It was amazing the things one wakes up to when you roomed with the Overseer of a rival house and her two favorite kiss asses. Certainly made for interesting conversation to walk in on especially when things hushed quickly.

Still, hearing Veronique's icy anger and the fawning fanning of said ice from the other two was very amusing. The kindred leaned in the doorway of her private chambers, and glanced over the .. state of their chambers.

"Disgusting." The enchantress gave each of them a cold look. "I do hope you plan on cleaning this atrocity before Sartha gets it in his head to do room inspections."

She was impressed by the snub that had been returned to the scheming trio. In fact, if the actual snub hadn't yet reached the ears of the Winds, someone was about to make sure it did. She looked thoughtful at the disarray and had to hand it to the young novice.

In fact, given the chilling looks that Veronique was trying to drill into her hide, it would stand to reason she needed to bring the little one under a wing that could protect her from the promised destruction from the Overseer.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-06-18 23:35 EST
She was distracted, hardly looking up as she rushed to her next class, so it was with quite a start she found herself nearly plowing into what could only be described as a beautiful nightmare. Statuesque beauty that was frightening, alluring and could ensnare the senses so that any screams would choke and die in one's throat. Saphira wasn't phased. She growled softly with a curse as her books tumbled to the floor near the siren's feet. The sea creature didn't move, rather watched with eyes that flickered strange colors. Saphira had to look away lest they make her dizzy.

Almalthia watched the furred girl impassively, offered no help when she dropped her books, no response to the swearing uttered in frustration. She didn't really care nor did it seem the girl was a threat. It was when the young boy came up to assist the furred one Almalthia's interest piqued. The blond, blue eyed youngster was still in the flush of youth, vital, and strong. Lips twitched slightly as thoughts began to formulate within that infernally devious mind.

Saphira offered Kish a smile, not knowing where he'd come from but glad of him none the less. "Thanks," Was murmured to him as he helped pick up a few last scattered papers and handed them to her. "'Course, Saph." Kish winked and leaned in to steal a kiss. The siren watched, her gaze heavy though her expression was impassive. The young couple broke the kiss as her stare eventually made them uncomfortable. Kish slipped his arm around Saphira's waist and murmured something to her quietly. The way his eyes flicked to the frightening beauty betrayed his discomfort as they moved away.

Saphira's response was low as well as the moved away from Almalthia. "I don't know who she is I've seen her, but I don't like the vibe she gives off. And I don'tlike the way she was looking at you." Kish chuckled softly. "Aw, c'mon, Saph. You know you're the only girl for me." Saphira fixed him with a sidelong stare. "It's not you that worries me. She was looking at you like you were..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Meat." Kish laughed, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Only yours." He teased. "Come on you know I have no interest in anyone else, although, I still think Mystri is kinda hawt." He laughed, even as she punched his shoulder. Kish groaned softly as it connected, it would bruise like hell, he was sure, but her expression had been worth it.

Saphira glared at him. "You're lucky I love you or I would bite you for that." Kish sobered almost instantly. "Alright, I'm sorry. Don't get me wrong I love your fur, but I don't think it would look so great on me..." He winked, half joking. Though he loved her, he didn't care for the affliction of being a lycan. It wasn't the same, being born that way and contracting it, he knew. He shook the thought away and kissed her again. "I gotta get to class, see you later, ok?" Saphira sighed softly. "Alright, I might be late I'm going to see about finding Mystri. I want to run with her." "Is that
allyou want?" Smirking as he narrowly dodged a book that occupied the place his head had been a mere second before.

He was laughing the entire way as he made his way to class. Saphira picked up her book and turned to open the door entering Menolymus' class with a sigh.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-06-19 00:16 EST
((Cross posted from Saphira's post))

The day had proven uneventful. She had forgone the pool party, not one for frivolous social gatherings. She cared little whether or not she was reprimanded or chided for doing so after saying she'd consider it. Consider. That had been the key word, not will, not promise, consider. It was after all in her nature to be noncommittal in all ways. She relished the way it infuriated those around her, while she watched them flounder and seethe with gaping mouths and empty heads.

The furry girl who found herself crashing into her was hardly even worth taking note of. She stood and watched as the girl swore, picking up her books. She never moved a muscle, as those rapidly changing eyes calmly followed the girl's every move. It was the young man, a boy really, on the cusp of manhood that had appeared seemingly from nowhere to assist the beast-girl that caught her eye. Lips twitched as thoughts peculated in her deviant mind, what she could do to one like that. How many ways she could break him, make him beg no more, and cry for more when she humored panted jagged cries for respite. The visions flitted through her mind so vividly she almost smiled. Almost.

The fact that he seemed to be involved with the beast-girl didn't even come into play. She could have her way with him. Would have her way with him. He would never know until he was already begging for more what happened. Almalthia watched in heavy silence as the pair walked off conversing in hushed tones. As they vanished from sight around a corner she turned. Kish. that was the boys name, what the beast-girl, this Saphira had called him. 'Well, Kish,' She thought. 'You and i are going to....play.

She turned moving calmly toward Sartha's office. Her excitement having had a more physical effect on her than she'd anticipated. If she was going to suffer, someone else was going to suffer worse. Why not the minotaur? She could hear him before she confirmed with her eyes what she already knew. Those heavy snorting breaths were as plain as daylight. Sartha scowled as soon as he saw her, rumbling in his rough ever-aggravated tone. "I have better things to do than deal with you. Move off." He swung his head to face her more fully, articulating the point with a thrust of those horns as well. Almalthia smiled, those flesh-shredding teeth exposed as she ignored his demand.

"Now, why want be so mean?" Her voice was a throaty purr, instantly intoxicating. Each clipped word like hot honey, dripping pleasurably into the bull's ears, washing through him, pulsing, tugging. Sartha shook his head with a grunt, scowling as he narrowed his eyes, fighting the damned siren's spell. "Move. Off." Somehow he mustered more conviction than he felt. "Think you not mean that, Sartha." The particular emphasis she put on his name was almost obscene, partially moaned. She closed the gap between them, boldly placing her hand on a corded arm, purring and trilling melodically. Fingers lightly running through his fur as she goaded him on.

Sartha's eyes started to glaze just a bit, familiar stirrings surfacing as the seductive monstrosity threaded her clawed fingers through his fur. She dragged them slowly, tortuously up his huge arm to the shoulder and across the broad chest. "So strong... muscles so hard." Blatantly encouraging his growing arousal as those fingers dragged down his chest to linger at his hips. She dragged her tongue over her lips, as she pressed herself against him. He was ensnared by her voice, and the sinfully delightful imagery that voice incited in his mind. "Sartha...." That one word, his name a breathy sound, suggestive of sex. His response was a harsh grunt as he reached for her, intending to make good on her merciless teasing.

She was enough to make any male mad with desire, and the minotaur was no exception. He wanted her now. There was no hiding the evidence of physical arousal and there was no rational thought behind that rough attempt to grab. It was at this point she decided to leave him there, releasing him from the thrall of her voice. As his mind unclouded, Sartha's rage boiled over, the humiliation of what the siren had done making him nearly blind. He would have his revenge, personally. He wouldn't hurt her, no, but he'd return the favor to her. He didn't see any reason to involve anyone else in this, certain they would laugh at his admission of just what the sea-bitch was doing to him.

True, it had been harmless enough, and true, no-one had seen anything. But He knew. He snarled softly, grateful for the effects of his anger, as it eradicated the lingering effects of the siren's spell on him. He turned on angry thundering hoof and made for his office, thinking.

Almalthia Sanguine

Date: 2011-06-19 03:38 EST
"Almalthia."

The voice was firm, stopping the siren dead in her tracks to turn slowly to the source of the voice. Nil'aiha materialized from the recesses of a shadow that could not have concealed him by simple mundane means. His eyes were devoid of the usual warmth, flat and hard as he demanded her attention. "Nil'aiha..." Came the throaty purr as she regarded him. She was nonplussed by his stern demeanor. "You will address me as Master Nil'aiha, Almalthia." . Do you presume to think I am unaware of your extracurricular activities?" His voice was hard even as he inwardly admired her audacity. Audacity, he thought he would have to find a way to break. He could not have her torturing Sartha. Students she might get away with but she was playing a dangerous game.

"Master Nil'aiha." Came the crooned reply, a hard and sudden reminder of sweat-slicked bodies struggling heatedly against one another in a tangle of sheets. But he was well aware of her power, and guarded against it. Though there was some desire, it was not the mind-clouding, desire that would take most men. Instead there was the desire to teach her a lesson she would never forget. He gripped her arm roughly, and forced her to turn, into an empty classroom. Nil'aiha muttered a charm to lock the door in an unusually roughened tone as he continued to force her toward one of the desks.

Incensed, the siren growled softly, the usually sheathed bone blades along her spine sliding out wetly with a soft sucking sound as she yanked her arm trying to free herself. Lips pulled away from those shark's teeth in a grimace, gills flaring threateningly as her eyes flashed. "Let go!" She demanded angrily. Instead his grip only tightened. "You will learn control, one way or another." Despite the anticipation, everything he did was deliberate and measured, only serving to infuriate her more. So she was even more surprised when she found herself suddenly lashed down to a desk, the straps having been conjured in the blink of an eye and binding her just as quickly. How dare he?!? How DARE he?!?

The blades along her spine rattled viciously against one another, glistening with venom. She shrieked in rage, twisting violently as she felt him securing them down flat with yet more bindings. She was now completely exposed to him, unable to do a thing about it. She quivered with unbridled fury, fully intending to rip his throat out, consequences be damned when she got free. Casually he moved around the desk, looking down at her, as she twisted her head as well as she could to follow him, murder in her eyes. "You have great potential, Almalthia, but you are too wild. You cannot simply do as you please whilst in this school." His voice was hard and emotionless as he admonished her. "Your arrogance will be your undoing. It would be such a pity to see one such as yourself wasted in such a way."

He paused as he returned to his starting point behind her with a smirk on his lips she could not see. Suddenly desperation took hold and she inhaled to sing. Let him try to overcome
that. She thought angrily. When no sound emerged her eyes widened in shock. She suddenly clamped her mouth shut, and jerked uselessly at her bonds. "Can't have you making a fuss, now, came his smug voice." She wanted to kill him, and his fingers boldly stroking between thighs forced apart in bound submission did nothing to ease her rage. "Come now, Almalthia, would it be so bad to let yourself be broken? Just imagine, the satisfaction you could have, with discipline, comes many rewards." He was damnably persuasive, and she snorted angrily, though muted.

Nil'aiha's fingers continued to persistently stroke and caress her teasingly. He pulled back and began to remove her underwear, leaving the skirt in place before resuming. Almalthia squirmed, still furious he had such gall to treat her this way. "Don't fight so hard." He soothed, pushing his fingers further only to be rewarded by a surge of slick warmth. "You know what I can do for you, what I can do toyou. All I ask is a little cooperation." Working more vigorously, his free hand unfastening his trousers. Almalthia's rage and resolve were slowly melting, the distraction of the pleasure he offered up to her despite her position tugging at her will enticingly. She was not so easily won and tried again to jerk away from him, only for him to handle her more roughly. "Do not think I will hesitate to break you the hard way, Almalthia."

His motions became rougher and quicker causing her to try to jerk and squirm to no avail. As he freed himself from his trousers she became acutely aware of a very firm pressure. "That's right, you know what this is. How could you forget?" She struggled harder, still convinced she could defy him, if she could only...get....free! He never gave her a chance to consider before he was nestled firmly within her, his hands now on her hips, gripping relentlessly as he began to thrust. "Just let go." Coaxingly as he took her. "I can make this last for a very long time. It's really up to you."

**********************

Hours passed, and though her body betrayed her time and again her pride and arrogance was stronger then even Nil'aiha could have guessed at.
something that gave him a surge, rather than disappointing him.
He would take his time with her.
Days if he needed to.
The classroom melted away and the exhausted siren found herself in his private chambers, still firmly bound though now upright and spread eagle.
She sagged against her bonds.
Things soon became a blur, time lost meaning between powerful surges of body bliss and taunting words that somehow slowly became more....
Why was she fighting so hard?
What was really the point?
Would it really be so bad....?

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-06-20 12:09 EST
((late in the evening, night of the StormSabre pool party))

?Very nice girls. You?re doing beautifully,? Grant praised, a gentle blessing washed upon a pair of sensually-posed novices as his critical, artistic eye assessed their mostly-undraped forms. The blonde lay upon her stomach, her generous curves nestled into an ornate fainting couch, while the provocative arch of her back, in turn, cradled the bare bosom of the second female, a brunette, whose equally-tempting frame seemed to sprawl idly upon the other girl. The artist, with handsome brow set in discerning contemplation, surrendered his brush to the palate of paints, allowing it to rest there as he approached his models. After a moment, his fingers swept along the underside of the brunette?s thigh toward her knee, nudging it upward along the body of the blonde, accentuating the delectable curve of her backside.

?There,? he murmured as his wandering digits retraced their previous path, extending to boldly dip into the silk-shielded crevasse splitting the curve he had chosen to emphasize. ?That?s better.?

?Grant!?

Bryn?s familiar voice, sugar-dipped darkness, heralded her arrival in the otherwise-empty ViperFang lounge. Grant reluctantly tore his eyes from the pleasurable shiver of his model and glanced over his shoulder toward the approaching necromancer. He blinked. She, too, was half-naked, her loose chocolate locks spilling around a figure costumed in a diminutive gold bikini, her only attire, save a small, translucent swath of ivory silk draped loosely at her hips.

?Ahh, my dear Bryn,? he growled teasingly, ?please tell me that you?re here to make my beautiful pair here a trio.?

The apprentice?s empty eyes cut to the girls, as if she hadn?t noticed them previously, but no discernible reaction dared to turn her pretty features. ?No,? she replied tersely. ?I?m looking for Quillyan Daewen. She?s supposed to be my invite to the StormSabre Pool Party. Have you seen her??

?Oh.? Grant instantly seemed to lose interest. ?I locked her in a closet with my ArcDialect work a couple of hours ago.?

?It?s due tomorrow,? he added, as if the deadline clearly justified the extremity of his actions.

- - -

Twenty minutes. One thousand, two hundred seconds of screaming and pounding was apparently all of the raw fight Quillyan could muster. It was a lovely fury, though, as brainless and bitter-driven as any violent panic: obscene cries from panting lips; banging, bruised, feminine hands; pure, audacious insanity shining in a vibrant blue glare. She threw herself against the unforgiving plane of the heavy wooded door, striking with both fists and screeching defiantly: a final climax of desperation, releasing her to collapse pitifully on the closet floor in a heap of slender limbs, exhaustion lulling her into morose docility.

A rather poor showing, especially since her theatrics were wasted upon the emptiness.

But her weariness inclined her toward thoughtfulness, and as her gasps returned to an even rhythm, rage also succumbed to analytics. Delicate fingers, sore from their recent battery, began weaving a variety of spells upon the lock, increasing the complexity of the arcana with each failure. Despite the novice?s typical talent with locks, those at the school were notoriously difficult to manipulate; given that the institution was founded in magic, the mechanisms were shielded against such handiwork.

After several minutes, this plan, too, was abandoned, but not without a brief, frustrated reprisal of pounding.

No, the door was steadfast.

As her svelte form sank back against the barrier, angrily-tearful eyes shifted around the closet - from the looks of it, a small storage room for unused art and artifacts, heaped in a heedless fashion, privately collecting dust in this forgotten little corner of the school. Shadowy statues nudged at her shins, their artistic forms made grotesque by the lack of proper light, for a simple spell-formed orb, glowing an antique gold, provided the only illumination in her makeshift prison.

Perhaps Grant would return to check on her. If so, it was possible that she could slip out; or, alternately, if she completed his work, perhaps he would happily release her. Though she seethed hotly with anger at the thought, Quillyan grudgingly acknowledged that the latter course of action would be more promising. Thus, she set about perusing the instructions for her mentor?s assignment, almost grateful for the distraction from impotent rage. The tomes were constant and trustworthy, the same in this isolated locale as they were in the crowded quiet of the library. And the work was simple: one of the easiest translations Mistmark had issued all semester, essentially a review.

Before the hour had passed, Grant?s assignment was complete, the tools of her toil stacked neatly to her side.

Quillyan waited, listening above the whisper of her breath, a lifeless stare fixed blankly across the room. No steps skipped along the hallway, no faraway voices exchanged familiarities. She was Alone. While her StormSabre companions reveled at Ivinia?s soiree, she was helplessly isolated, doomed to waste the celebratory hours in the company of empty air.

The feeling was not altogether unfamiliar, for the novice had passed many hours alone in the preceding months, secluded by Grant?s demands and the shame of her secrets. While her motivation resided in the desire to protect her relationship with Albion, she couldn?t deny that seclusion and secrecy had infiltrated their interactions, stealing away their hours and carving a treacherous gulf between them. She tried to recall the Seer's suggestions, her elegant warning regarding the danger of allowing problems to compound.

Was she destroying the very thing she sought to protect?

The dark contemplation aroused a tremulous internal panic, evident in the external by only the sheen of tears sparkling upon wide, blind eyes.

Something moved, close.

Quillyan?s breath caught in her throat, her eyes immediately blinking back to cognizance. Dread crawled dangerously along her flesh as her senses sought to identify the source of the disturbance.

All was still, silent. And then, a titter: an inhuman string of throaty, dark chirps.

The novice?s horror multiplied, wildly spurring her to her feet and crushing her against the door.

Vaden.

Sweet Dreaming

Date: 2011-06-20 22:18 EST
Alyssa moves back to the dorms. Yes she had to leave. Hoping she didn?t miss anything. Her blue eyes glanced around as she moves. Hearing crying , she tilts her head. Her blue eyes met a young student. Mercedes crying out her eyes. She leans closer. Then human smell tinged with something stop her. She let out a growl as she moves. Trying to fight the hungry. ?Mercedes??

Mercedes glanced up to Alyssa. ?Yes?? she sniffed. She was trembling. Alyssa glanced at her neck. Balling up her hands, trying her hard. Not to drink her blood. Alyssa?s hand came out. Cedes reach up with ice cold hand. Alyssa noticed it, not say the word.

Alyssa looks into Mercedes and see a lost soul. ?why are you crying?? stepping close to trembling student. She pulled her to the common room, she took a breath away from the human.

?Everyone in this school hates me. Angel hates me. She has nothing to do with me now.? tears slide down, Alyssa moves to get a cloth to dry her tears.. She never met Angel, but heard of her because of the students around.

?I am sure she will forgive you.? rubbing Mercedes? s hand, while her other hand drying the tears off. The human looks like she was crying for a whole week. In the past she felt Mercede?s nightmare, while she was dream walking. But standing this close to this girl. She used some her powers, trying to get the girl to calm down. Her mouth open and her fangs peek out.

Mercedes wasn?t scared when she saw the fangs. Blue eyes peek up into Alyssa?s eyes. She felt herself being enchanted. Alyssa moves closer to her neck, not wanting to bite hard, she just bite her gently. She drank a little bit. Mercedes?s blood was tainted. Alyssa made a face about that. Keeping the girl enchanted. She was thinking on what to do. ?you are in trouble, are you.?

Mercedes just nod. Alyssa can glamour the truth out of her. She already tasted her blood, ?I know you are depressed?. Mercedes. But you will get through this. Count on who you can trust.?

Leda

Date: 2011-06-21 19:28 EST
Commons. Part One.

Alyssa had left Mercedes be, enchanted to keep her from crying. Her blue eyes rested on the fire, dazed. She didn't move. She swallowed a bit; still ice cold, but somehow a little colder since the night she had sunk into that deep depression.

Fresh from an altercation with Sartha, as evidenced by the shredded remains of her shirt, Leda came upon Mercedes with no little surprise. She had expected that her friend would be once more in the Infirmary, not dazed before the commons fire. "'Cedes? Are you well?"

Mercedes shook her head, trying to release the fuzzy feeling, her blue eyes on her friend. Her cheeks were wet from the tears . "Leda?" she asked. "What happened to you?"

The half-breed rolled her black eyes, dismissing the state of her clothing with a one-shouldered shrug. "An encounter with a raging minotaur," she explained, lowering onto her knees beside her friend. One hand rose, a fingertip gently touching the salt of tears on 'Cedes' face. "What has happened to -" She did not finish, for her gaze travelled down to the mark upon her friend's neck. Fury blazed for a single, terrifying moment, before she drew herself under control. "Who has marked you?"

"Marked me?" 'Cedes didn't know what she meant. She felt something, but shook her head. Standing up, she swayed from the little blood lost. 'Ugh ....' She frowns a bit, touching her forehead. "What did he do to you?"

Leda shook her own head as she rose with her friend, ignoring the concern for herself as she caught the swaying girl in the curve of her arm. Her fingertips touched tenderly to the mark of fangs on her friend's neck. "You have been bitten," she explained gently. "One of the undead has tasted your blood." Her head tilted, curiosity touching her eyes. "Yet you are otherwise unharmed. Did you allow it?"

"I don't know." Mercedes frowned. "I don't remember." She moved to touch her neck, letting out a sigh as she held on to Leda tightly. She closed her eyes, trying to remember, and frowned. 'What the hell?"

Lowering her fingers from the raw mark, Leda wrapped her arms about 'Cedes, hoping to warm the icy skin with the unnatural heat of her own. The infernal seducer turns maternal, how very ironic. "Why are you crying, cara?"

"Because everyone in the school hates me ... Angel hates me. And she is my best friend." Mercedes lowered her chin, remembering the night before. "I have enemies here." She closed her blue eyes and tears slid down her cheeks.

"We all have enemies," the half-breed told her firmly. "How we treat them is the measure of our own selves." She tilted 'Cedes' chin upward, until black eyes could look into blue. "You are not alone. And not everyone hates you, cara." As if to reinforce that point, she pressed her hot mouth to the girl's lips, seeking to devour the despair that radiated from her.

Mercedes froze when she was kissed, slow to relax. She wrapped her arms around Leda, her mouth parting under hers. Breathing in her scent, she let out a soft moan.

Offered even a fragment of encouragement, Leda was quick to capitalise on it. Her fingers stroked tenderly along the line of 'Cedes' jaw as her lips opened, tongue tasting what was offered, breath and mouth in one as her hands smoothed down the girl's back, drawing her closer.

Mercedes pulled back, blue eyes on the half-breed. "I need to sit down." She knew Leda wouldn't let her fall, but between the bite and this, she was feeling light headed.

The smile Leda offered her was gentle, despite the passion warring for dominance in her eyes. "Come, then," she said softly, lowering them both down into the welcoming embrace of the couch. Never once releasing her encompassing arms from about Mercedes.

Mercedes closed her blue eyes and snuggled close to her friend. "There are a few vampires at the school. It could be anyone, couldn't it?" she asked softly. She felt content, enjoying the warmth again. It made her feel safe.

"I do not know how we might discover it," Leda mused, teasing her fingertips through the dark fall of her friend's hair. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled wickedly. "No ... I do know a way. But I will need to find the right spell, and the ingredients for it."

"How?" Mercedes looked to her. "I have spells." She moved to pull out her spell book. "I am a spell writer."

Leda frowned thoughtfully, releasing Mecedes just long enough to let the girl fetch her spell book. "When a vampire bites, they leave behind a trace of the venom used to sedate their victim," she explained carefully. "With a little of your blood, and a little blood collected from the vampires in the school, we could locate the one who fed from you."

"I have a location spell ...." Mercedes had used it before. She knew this spell.

Leda's brows rose in interest. "Then perhaps we will not need the blood of the others," she told her friend. "But are you strong enough to cast this spell, cara? You are weakened, that much is clear."

Mercedes shook her head."I am not. Maybe you can, with a drop of my blood?"

Leda bit her lip. Such a spell was beyond anything she had attempted thus far in her time at the IAP. "For you, my friend, I will try," she promised, calling her wand to her with one outstretched hand.

Mercedes took a dagger from her pocket. While she held it, she turned to the words, showing them to Leda. Her throat tightened - this was the same spell she had used before - and cut her finger.

Studying the words written carefully, Leda drew into herself, touching the very tip of her wand to the welling drop of blood at the pad of Mercedes' finger. In a voice totally unlike her own, all fire and shadow and hinted power, she intoned the words from the book, lifting her wand upward. A flickering flame erupted from the bloodied tip of wood, expanding in a flaming ball until the image of a female was outlined before them.

Leda's hand shook as she held the spell in place, fighting the urge to dismiss it and save her strength as she spoke from between clenched teeth. "Do you know that face?"

Leda

Date: 2011-06-21 19:29 EST
Part Two.

"It's Alyssa. She's a mixture of wolf and vampire ...." Mercedes glanced about, touching her neck. "She was here talking to me." That part she did remember. Moving away from Leda, she sighed.

The answer found, the half-breed released the spell with an explosive breath, slumping back against the cushions as the flames withered to nothing. She was trembling from the effort of spell-casting, sweat beading on her brow as she gasped in an attempt to regain control of her breath. "Then she ... she is the one."

"You okay?" Blue eyes looking to Leda in concern, Mercedes laid her head on her friend's shoulder, resting. "What ... if she is a hybrid ... does that mean I'm a werewolf?"

"I am ... not ... not accustomed to casting ... spells in this manner," Leda gasped, offering a weary smile to reassure her friend even as her cheek turned to rub against the dark head on her shoulder. "I cannot feel a ... any demon within you, cara. You are as ... you were."

Aware of the spell still in the air, Mercedes felt colder. "Why did she bite me?" she asked softly, a hand touching Leda's. "Are you dueling tonight?"

"Perhaps she thought to take your pain into herself," the half-breed suggested. "There are some who prefer the taste of emotion over blood." She shrugged, turning her hand to let her fingers twine with her friend's. "I cannot tonight. I have work that must be done."

Mercedes nodded, enjoying the warmth of both the fire and the half-succubus. "I would get into the fire if I could," she smiled at the thought.

Leda smiled, knowing the feeling. She couldn't get used to the strangeness here; of washing in water, not flame, and needing the warmth of Mogadon to guard her against the chill of the building at night. "Would that you were well enough to sleep beyond the gaze of the Infirmary Mistress," she murmured to her friend. "I could keep you warm at night."

"It's better than going back to my wing with Angel." Mercedes nodded, sighing.

"Can you not request to be moved?" Leda asked her curiously.

"I want to be friends with Angel again."

The half-breed frowned thoughtfully. "Then you must be well again," she said quietly. "Do not let careless words hurt you. Of all I have seen of human conflict, I can only advise you to offer her an apology, whatever you or she may have done, without conditions. Do not push her to return to your friendship; simply be patient."

"I apologized many times, Leda. To both Esteban and to her. I wish I hadn't listened to the voices." Mercedes frowned. "I blamed her for stealing Esteban from me. She thinks I betrayed her."

"You cannot expect her to forgive easily," Leda murmured. "She is as I am, half-demon. We hold our griefs closer to ourselves, yet our loyalty is unquestioned. I believe some part of her regrets your falling out. Perhaps she, too, wishes your friendship regained."

"I don't know...." Mercedes closed her blue eyes. "I don't know." She sighed softly, opening her eyes. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You have survived worse, and come forth stronger," Leda told her friend firmly, staring into the flames as they spoke. "I believe you have strength enough for this."

There was a head in the shadows, just on the edge of Mercedes' vision. She saw it, moving against Leda. "Illusions - if I can find a spell to block illusions, I will be alright."

"You should speak with Mistress Lillura," the half-breed suggested. "She may yet be able to offer you some guidance."

"I am not allowed to do spells, Leda."

Leda smirked faintly. "I did not say you should perform a spell," she said gently. "There are talismans, charms, things of solid being already spell-caught that you can wear."

"I have my bed in the Infirmary ... the charms, potions ...." Mercedes shivered at the memory of the taste.

"I will look for you," Leda offered. "In the Library tonight, while I am studying, I will seek out reference to some protection that will cloak you from the darkness hanging over your head." She yawned, blinking wearily. "If I can stay awake long enough."

Mercedes nodded and yawned, loving the warmth between them. "Leda ... thanks." She smiled softly at her friend. Her blue eyes closed, admitting to being tired, weak right now, shivering.

"Anything for a friend." And it was true.

For all her life, Leda had had only one friend, and though just as loyal to her, Mogadon could not compare to the comfort of a human companion. Now her loyalty was extended to Mercedes, to help her new friend in her hour of need, to protect the girl from the powerful elitists who would be seeking revenge against the half-breed.

But here and now, such worries didn't matter. Curled on the couch, wrapped around Mercedes, Leda lolled contently, slipping into the peaceful embrace of weary sleep.

((Many thanks to Dark Princess for this scene!))

Natolii

Date: 2011-06-22 00:11 EST
{Head Mistresses? Office}

Albion, Esteban, Angel, Leda

I need help. I need to speak with the three of you.

Cedes

The note found its way to Angelica's room. The young woman had discovered it before the confrontation with Alyssa on the Island. Ilyona had told her (Angelica) about the confrontation in the Inn and it was easy to access some of the devices that family had planted in the Red Dragon.

No, tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back. Angelica took the time to speak with her mother on this. She could not do this on her own anymore. If what the Abomination said was true, then it was already beyond her talents and skill level. The bonds of friendship had been strained to the point of breaking...

... And so it was that Natolii shadow stepped her office with the note in hand and fury in her eyes. Only this time she was accompanied by a white haired lady of Elven descent. In her mind, Evahlys had failed to properly handle this. She was done being patient. A moment later, Mistress Evahlys also arrived. Natolii was looking into a scrying orb, still frowning.

"Evahlys, there is no reason this mess should have continued as long as it has. This situation is a disruption to the school. So explain to me why you did not treat this girl's condition?"

{Minor editing to allow for some wiggle room}

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-06-22 00:39 EST
Mercedes was sleeping in the same bed as Leda. Feeling safe and warm for a little while. She snuggles close to Leda, have her hand on hers. She was sleeping hard for the first time with out the spells that Evalyn had given to her. She had seek help from ones she felt as friends. She had hurt Angel. She know that. Leda gave her the comfort she needs. She felt weak from Alyssa?s bite.



==============================================

Evahlyns look at the Head Mistress. ?I have been searching for things that would have caused. Mercedes?s illusions. Her ice cold skin. Thought she was making improvement. The night of the pool party dance. She was normal like. What I notice stress is caused the most of this. The more she is stressed, the more panic she gets the more illusions she has.? Evahyns paused. ?I can up the dose on stuff.. Have you heard anything like this, head mistress??

Sweet Dreaming

Date: 2011-06-22 18:18 EST
Alyssa moves as a red wolf, ears up, one paw after the other. Her gang wasn?t a human?..a deer, a nice young buck deer. Since a hybrid she can feed on anything. She could eat human food if she wanted to. Hearing something behind her

?You are crazy to pissed off Angel?. She is daughter to the head mistress.? Gold eyes look at the hybrid. ?Do you think your sire be happy that you pissed off her. You crazy little hybrid. You should caused the disturbance at the magic duels? Alyssa remembered the hate radiating from the people there. Leda was included. The half breed.

The wolf snorted, ears turned toward the voice. She wish she didn?t drink from the cursed human, Mercedes. If this much trouble going to lie with human. Ears flickered, a showing a little teeth. ?I was wrong okay. I saw the way Angel had look after everything. I wasn?t trying to make her a bad guy.?

?Just stay out of this?..Alyssa.? She warned. ?Before your life ends and your master is out of a dream walker

?I will, Avitu.? the wolf growled out, and took off. Her meal had spotted her when the demoness had found. She will

-------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------

Morning.

She had found some food. She had put on Notice uniform, She moves to find her mentor, Mistress LaCroix . But guess who for her to run into Cinder and Jolie. ?I thought you was gone, Abomation.? Alyssa froze and looks to the vampires.

?I had my responsbities to look after all. I am a BlackRose.? her family?s name was old and well known to the vampire kind. Cinder smirk and look to Jolie.

?Can you believe her this? little abonmation thinks she can compare to us. That is funny.? Jolie shook her head. ?We don?t need you. Go back home you little ???..? Some one cleared her voice. Her blue eyes glance and saw the Mistress LaCroix.

?Don?t you two have something better to do?. Instead of picking on her.? Stern words, and shifty eyes the pair of kindred.

?We sure do, Mistress.? Cinder sent Alyssa say we continue this next time, and the pair went off separate. Alyssa turned her mentor.

?I am sorry, Mistress LaCroix, I had to leave without permission.? She let out a sigh. ?It was family business.?

?I shall talk to the Head Mistress about your punishment.? She told the hybrid. ?let?s get you catch up.? Alyssa nods ?Follow along with me. I don?t have all day.? The older vampire showed her on what she had missed, class wise. ?Good Alyssa you are a natural. You has a amazing gift, enchanting people. Just got to curve that appetite of yours. ?what are you drinking now blood wine??

?Yes, Mistress.?
?I want you drink Elfish blood wine. It?s stronger than most blood wine. Always keep a little bottle on you. In case that hunger. One the full moon do you have to change?? Alyssa shook her head. ?and you can change at will?? Alyssa nods. ?Yes, Mistress.?

Leda

Date: 2011-06-22 18:41 EST


Someone had been playing with Sartha again, manipulating his primal instincts, his base needs, illuminating the carnal desires he kept so ruthlessly suppressed. If, perhaps, the siren responsible had offered even the slightest of reliefs to him in return for plying her wiles, his rage could have been muted. But the minotaur disliked being played with, being left with a need he could not take care of himself. She was too quick for him; his vengeance would have to wait.

So when Leda returned from the duels alone, she was the perfect temptation too great to resist. He had already marked her back with claws that day for talking back to him; now she had the temerity to walk straight past him, radiating that aura of seduction and desire, compelling him to cast aside his inhibitions and do what he would. And for once the minotaur - enraged at the way other students had treated him, in acute discomfort with the after-effects of that treatment, pushed past the point of reason - for once, Sartha answered the siren call of his mating instinct.

His roaring echoed through the halls, unbridled, undiminished as the hours went by. So loud, that only those who listened closely might have heard the feminine beneath the gutteral sounds, the moaning, eager sound of a half-breed catapulted to reluctant, unexpected ecstasy by the grasping, biting, tearing force of a minotaur's lust.

The silence that followed his ultimate release was deafening, broken only by the rasp of his breath as he looked down on the battered form of his conquest. The realisation of what he had done, what he had allowed himself to do, sickened him. Because of a siren's games, he had sated himself on a student. Not only that, but she wasn't even part minotaur. There was nothing attractive to him in the shuddering form of Leda Nyx, nothing but her unconscious, unknowing aura of carnal invitation.

He left her there, to crawl back to her own bed, snarling and spitting his anger once more. The siren was the cause of all this; she would feel the bite of his revenge. Provided the half-breed didn't get there first.

Dark Princess

Date: 2011-06-22 19:14 EST
Leda's room

Mercedes awakened when the bed dipped as Leda got in. her dark blue eyes opened and look at sight of her best friend. "Leda...Oh my god, what happened to you?" her hands moves touch Leda's cheek.

She sit up and swayed. still recovering from her blood lost. she moves to the bathroom and grabbing stuff to clean up her best friend up. Her hand shook.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-06-23 00:52 EST
Atop the School

He stared over the ramparts as if he expected to find the answers to his injured soul. Unmoving but for the clenching and un-clenching of one fist.

This was her time as darkness reigned supreme and the gibbous moon hung above a watchful eye upon her kind. She came up here often to escape the pressure of the school as if she bubbled to the top, a percolating tumescence upon the glory that was the Institute.

She hadn't expected to find anybody up here and she froze with the preternatural ability of her cursed kind. He made no motion to acknowledge that he'd heard her. Almost taking that as a sign she turned to depart when he took a ragged breath that sounded as tragic as he felt.

She recognized that agony. Felt that level of despair on a nearly nightly basis. Drifting back toward him she didn't stop until she stood before him, dangerously close to the rampart's edge.

Slowly he pulled his gaze from the night-sky to stare at her from red rimmed eyes, "She has cast me out."

Why he chose to reveal those words to her of all people, to venture across House lines, and to speak to the outcast when he'd never bothered to so much as nod her way before...remained unspoken.

Perhaps it was the shared misery he found in her gaze. Whatever the reason, Benedykt offered no protest as Margot draped one shockingly strong arm about his shoulders and lowered him toward the ground. "She will forgive you." Knowing instinctively that he spoke of Veronique.

"She blames Gina and I for Leda's defiance...I cannot return to her bed until I fix it."

The rawness of his throat was agonizing to hear and Margot silenced his confessions with a finger upon his lips. Her hungry gaze lingered upon that exposed powder white neck. Cracked and dust dry lips treated to an unhelpful glide of her equally dry tongue.

Ripping her gaze away from his pulse she curled into his lap and whimpered her own tortured longing.

She understood what it was to be driven to madness by a lust for something so bright, so bloody, so compellingly wrong. Frail limbs folded at awkward angles as Benedykt rocked his unlikely ally and nothing more was said.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-06-24 00:07 EST
It was a burnt orange blur that streaked through the winding streets of Market District, four legs propelling the sleek fox forward with darting speed. There was no path, no destination, he just had to run. Lurking predators that became aware of his passing did so with only the most fleeting of glances, hastened was Albion by magic that swept him along the whirling cobblestone.

The city became a distant memory and the Institute grew nearer and nearer, though before arriving upon its lengthy walkway he diverted his path to instead indulge within the terrible grove of Vesper. Weaving a path through the draping foliage and thick trunks of ancient trees, he was careless in his journey. Perhaps the Faepact Warlock would find him and strip the flesh off his bones, or maybe turn his blood to fire so that he would burn from the inside-out. Either way, it would be better than the pain that scarred his soul.

Finally his zooming stride concluded between a pair of thick oaks, where large emerald eyes surveyed the distant structure of the Institute of Arcane Principle with both admiration and misery. How that school had become the place of his most cherished memories, and yet...there was sadness. How had life become so complicated? Academia demanded a formula, no matter how complex, that combined aspects of all sorts in search of a particular result. It was a simple calculation most of the time, and if not then it could be deciphered to its lowest dimension until there was nothing left but truth.

But that, Albion thought, was because academia lacked emotion.

With magic dispelled, the gaunt and pale shape of the scarlet haired Transmuter returned; the gelatinous morph of shape and mass consuming the nimble vulpine creature to replace it with one of human form. He sighed softly as he looked down at his fingertips, using one set to clean the dirt out from beneath the other.

Poor Alaric. All he wanted to do was help Albion have a good time, and in return got ran out on. Albion never claimed to be the greatest of friends but still, he was better than that.

Again he sighed as he folded his slender arms across the narrow span of his chest, a sharp shoulder finding a tree to lean against. There was an ache beneath his breast; a hallow sting that struck his heart. Quillyan's guilty admission to sleeping with Grant left him impaled upon a chilling spear of emotional revelation, though there was much more than just his own personal grief.

Would he unleash the same pain upon her about his tryst with Mystri?
And what of Mystri? Is this how she had felt every time she had seen him with Quilly?

Closing his eyes, Albion tried to play the scenes with reversed roles. Would he be able to digest the thought of Quillyan with Grant as Mystri had with he and Quillyan? Would he be able to walk into a room to find Quillyan and Grant together and be able to proceed, as Mystri had done so many times?

Thoughts twisted then, the svelte shape-shifter becoming the focus. He'd never seen her in the arms of another, and the animal magnetism that bonded them as mates nearly had him reeling with the realization that she, too, could very well be occupying a bed, prone before another.

...another such as Grant.

The lothario of Viperfang became the impetus figure in all of these vivid contemplations, filling the role of male in both the visions of Quillyan and the visions of Mystri, where scenes of carnal immersion were depicted with both.

He felt nauseous.

He needed to talk to someone.

He needed to converse with one who would understand the global parameters of what he had done and comprehend how he felt without judging him for the decisions he had made. He needed someone who was so incredibly entrenched in such deceptively lurid affairs that to hear his quandary would be feebly amusing by comparison.

Lips parted and breathed an incantation that swept him away on a gusting wind - a gentle breeze tinged by crimson. The flowing current slithered through the halls until it reached its destination and deposited him smoothly onto booted feet. He raised his hand, rapping knuckles loudly upon the door.

"Enter."

The voice was muffled as it carried through the closed door, yet Albion's hearing was still sharp and keen from the earlier transformation. Fox's could hear for miles. He pushed the door and stepped in...

...looking for Ivinia.

Natolii

Date: 2011-06-24 07:20 EST
{Head Mistresses? Office ? Cont.}

Evahlys look at the Head Mistress. ?I have been searching for things that would have caused Mercedes? illusions. Her ice cold skin. Thought she was making an improvement. The night of the pool party dance. She was normal like. What I notice stress is caused the most of this. The more she is stressed, the more panic she gets the more illusions she has.? Evahlys paused. ?I can up the dose on stuff... Have you heard anything like this, head mistress??

It was then those cold Turquoise eyes turned onto the Mistress of the Infirmary. It was plain that the answer was the wrong one.

"Mistress Evahlys, You are a transmuter of great skill. Otherwise you would not be in this Institute nor in the position you currently enjoy. One would think that being this is a school for magical studies, you would look beyond the mundane. Children are curious... They tend to get into trouble at the drop of the hat and play with things they do not understand."

She nodded to the now sleeping girl. "When she wakes, have Sartha bring her to me. No exceptions, no distractions.? There was a look at the half-demoness in the scrying orb that was obviously providing her comfort. Damien will take over as her mentor. The girl would need to learn control fast. The old demoness was sure it would anger Carnivean but the Demon lord of Phoencia could care less.

Another nod given over to the Silver haired elf. "Lady Silima Nha?slal will be taking over her care. You will open the infirmary to her and assign Mage Khorza and Novice Albaelia to assist for this."

The Infirmary Mistress was taken aback by the command. "Not Sorcerer Ashriel? One would think that you would want the most experienced student aiding in this."

There was a slow smile that was not friendly at all. "Sorcerer Ashirel is needed to make sure this does not happen again with any other students. The experience will do Mage Khorza and Novice Albaelia good as a learning tool. Lady Nha?slal is a combat experienced healer." It also went without saying that she trusted Novice Albaelia would not betray the trust she placed in her and would keep her Gorgonhorn housemate from doing anything untoward.

? She did not have such trust in the Viperfang Sorcerer. Which boded well for him in her eyes, but none-the-less, it was not wise to place the Stormsabre Apprentice in his tender mercies.

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-06-24 19:44 EST
{Red Dragon Inn - a Couple of nights after the Library Meeting with Khordan}

It was a sharp downward descent, so severe that those looking onward might assume that he intended to slam headlong into the porch. At the last moment though he pulled up, the sweeping arch leaving bare lavender feet to find purchase upon the steps. Reptilian wings furled about broad shoulders, sheathing the tapering angle of his torso beneath their hold. Empty eyes turned about, surveying the length of that exterior deck with the sweep of silken black hair.

It would be a lovely night for a run... if one cared about such things. As it was the black leopard weaved in and out of the shadows with ease. Out of the last shadow, the graceful form of the woman emerged. Those golden eyes sweeping over the form of Iameth. No hints to her mindset. The face was rather impassive.

He had started forward, just a step toward that infamous swing, when the arrival of another gained his interest. He paused, the tilt of his head causing coiled horns bathed in obsidian to catch the dim light of high lamps with a tawny gloss. He turned and took hold of her with his eyes, the length of the look aided by a spreading grin. "Elizabeth." He said, baring fangs. "So good to see you."

The slow smile with the barest hint of her own incisors greets the Overseer, "Iameth, To what do I owe the pleasure?" The voice was soft. She did not feel the need to speak loudly.

"Mere coincidence, unfortunately. Bored at the Institute, I thought it might be a good night for a fly." Eyes trickled down the length of her. "Find something to eat." Back up they went, the grinning coil of those sensual lips tightening. "And you?"

There was a soft, amused laugh. "Oh the same, with four feet on the ground." She almost purred. Almost.

"I can attest to that." He said. "Those upon all fours are so delicious." A simple backpedal took him from the steps, sending him deeper onto the porch. "Surely you have found something worthwhile tonight?"

She ascended the stairs to the porch, "Perhaps now... The fresh air is preferable to the ... stench of an abomination." She murmured a bit.

"Stench of an abomination?" He mused as he took yet another step backwards, his seemingly blind and careless path taking him toward the door. "I'm not sure I know what you speak of."

She took another step towards him, allowing the little chase to play out. "A noviate, that apparently needs to learn her place."

There was no whisper of magic, no hint of a spell, and yet the door creaked open just as he should have gently collided with it. Still he moved backwards, the enervated pace somehow weaving him safely through the tables that littered the center of the room. "Careful now, Elizabeth. Novitiates, like all others, have their uses." Thoughts drifted back to the novice who he'd eaten from just that morning. How delicious she was. "You should concern yourself with other matters, something more imperative. Like whom you shall grace with your arm for the upcoming Masquerade Ball."

She was graceful in her moves, "I had not given it much thought. Not many are brave enough to chance the VampBitch." There was a amused tone in that. "And I would prefer not to be accompanied by... lessers."

"Understandable." The subtle gesture of a falling hand with two fingers extended withdrew the chair he had selected from beneath its table, not a single touch given. He stepped back, fell within it, and then motioned for her to join him with a cursory sweep in the same manner that replicated the motion with an adjacent seat. "While I might not feel as strongly, I, too, shall go dateless." Those infernal lavender eyes narrowed greedily. "That way there is no one waiting about while I dally with other play things."

She settled into the chair indicated and crossed those shapely legs. "Hmmm, I suppose that is wise, even if it is out of the ordinary." She glanced around, taking careful note of the surroundings.

"And is it so out of the ordinary for you?" Wings unfurled enough to drape across the back of his seat, their reptilian shroud spilling about with pliable length. Bedecked in sable silk, the dark hue accentuated the arousing tone of lavender flesh, casting a tantalizing contrast of colors. "I find it liberating to unchain the bindings of partnership. How else shall the world tremble in our wake if we keep shackled to the ankle of but one?"

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-06-24 19:45 EST
There was a soft chuckle at that, "It is far more common for me. As if expected. A dalliance there, a forgotten liaison here..." She left herself as forgettable for a reason.

"I see. The languid lover, then? Traipsing in to be passionate one moment and uninspiring the next?" Toying with her a bit, he was well aware of her biting persona. Still, he was capricious, eternally so. "I would have guessed you more for a dominant type. Leading your pack of lovers around upon tethers."

There was a laugh at that. "(vq)The ones left behind are cattle, dearest Iameth. There hasn't been any... worthy of the chain."

His laughter was rich, a song upon the ears of all who heard it. Sinister and sweet. "You cast your want too high, my dear. Sometimes worth needs to be siphoned to the surface, suckled from the depths of the body as though venom from a wound." The glance toward the bar was cursory, the lovely specimen occupying it the recipient of that momentary look. Back to Elizabeth his gaze swiveled. "I find it more appealing to seek those not with whom I find fault, but with whom I find weakness. Worth can often be gained by cracking the shell of weakness."

She gave a small nod towards him acknowledging those words, "It all depends on if they have the fire beneath the masks. I am not looking for a constant struggle."

"Who is?" The slow smirk revealed those numerous fang, terrifyingly alluring as they were. He brought his left foot up to sit upon his right knee as he dropped the claw that extended from his index finger to lightly scrape across the wooden tabletop. "And yet is that not what we are all in search of? Our own personal struggle?"

The gaze was not for the bar, focused more on her conversation. "Hmm, true. And is there one with a weakness worth... exploring?"

The engraving talon paused as eyes inclined to find her striking gaze, showing question. "There are plenty about, my dear. So many feeble souls in mindless wander about this realm, searching for someone, anyone, to come and infect their lives. With love, lust, misery. It matters not."

There was a chuckle, "I have a mentee to ... guide." There was a delicate shrug of a shoulder.

"Oh?"

She murmured, "Seems a young master Rylos has been assigned under my wing."

"Just your wing?"

There was a slow smile at that, "In this case, patience will be an asset." A slender finger tapped her chin, "We shall see how long it takes to be able to lead him around in the tethers."

"Ah yes, that slow consumption...like cancer, devouring flesh and soul until there is nothing left but mindless servitude." He spoke those words as though nostalgic for their result with that sharp claw peeling a line of wood from the table. "It truly is what inspires us all. I have no mentee." He said with a grin. "No one beneath me, nor my wing."

She murmured softly, "Because your time is better spent in ... other pursuits." They all knew the edicts.

"Indeed." He said with a grin, the rippling flex of limb and muscle taking him from that chair to stand before her; a lavender canvas of diabolical beauty adorned in black. "As it would seem, though, my time for the moment has run its course and I must be on my way." His hand extended, clawed fingertips curling in search of her grasp. "Join me, or wish to stay?"

She place her hand in his with a smile, "Join." She stood gracefully as well.

"A splendid choice." He assured her. "You shan't be disappointed." Drawing her up, drawing her forward, into the fold of sinewy arms and serpentine foils, he embraced her against the ribbons and contours of his body as the gate beneath their feet opened and in a matter of moments, devoured them.

"You never do." She smiled back and allowed herself to be pulled against him. She was not fazed by the portal opening beneath their feet.

(Live RP with Ashriel Iameth and Elizabeth. Thanks Hun)

Sweet Dreaming

Date: 2011-06-24 23:19 EST
Alyssa had found her way into the library. She stayed away from the humans. She waited to hear from the head mistress for biting the curse student, Mercedes. She let out a breath. She just wait for any type of confrontation from any one. She placed some books on the shelf. She pausing, pulling out a small green bottle and takes a sip of the blood wine. Those human with the sweet smelling blood.. She glanced at the pair of them, talking. She slide a hand through her red hair.

Akemi watched the hybrid as she moves around. She is really unique and not as a freak as everyone thinks she is. His eyes glanced to Margot. ?what do you think of Alyssa?? Margot glanced over in her directions. ?She?s a freak? part wolf, part vampire.? Margot tilts her head. ?But she?s different.?

?You know I can hear good.? Her blue eyes fall on the pair of them. She wasn?t being threatened through.. She was out of her uniform, in a blood red dress with a corset top. Margot didn?t look away from Alyssa.

?How was you made?? Akemi said. Alyssa sighed. ?I was bitten by my sire who was a hybrid at the time. Same thing like a vampire who was sired.? She answered

?And you can change into wolf at will?? She nods, annoyed at the questions. ?Can you into your Lycan form??

?Yes. It don?t have to call for the full moon. But the change is have .? Her blue eyes on her class mates. Akemi smiled at her. ?I would like to see it.?.

?Oh sure? when the full month is here? You know I barely have any control.? She lied to them. With the vampire brain. She has plenty control. Her blue eyes fall on both of them. ?I have to get ready for class okay.?

?Bye then.? Akemi wink at her. Alyssa smiled softly only the tips of her fangs were showing,

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-06-25 19:36 EST
Staging a Coup
When Overseers Plot
Part 1

There were very few who actually witnessed the sanctuary of the Institute's founder. Barud Das was reserved for those of Sorcerer level and above, with a very select few being the only exceptions. Walls etched of mirthless obsidian and floors carved of marble, the towers were pinnacles of arcana; each housing a surplus of magic most worlds had never seen. Within his study - which was large enough to host a small army - the Dark Mage of the Shaitan stood, hovering above the pool of amber colored energy positioned directly at the chamber's center. Gnarled hands were exposed, reaching from the depths of wide sleeves, and manipulating the raw power that swished and swayed within that pool, showing him scenes beyond that of simple sight. Traversing dimensions and roaming planes far beyond comprehension. It was because of this that seeing outside his door was a simple enough task, revealing to him those who approached.

Thea was more than aware of the dangerous game that they played at, should they mismanage this coup and come across as weak, the Master of Barud Das was just as likely to punish them for their pride or their weakness. Fear palpitated her heart beneath the ash white skin hidden by the ornate and costly corset and tulle. She would leave the majority of the talking to Iameth for if nothing else she would see him fall for his hubris, but to simply be a follower would put her in the role of the duped and that position did not bode well for her credit either. Squaring her quavering thin shoulders into a ramrod straight spine, she turned her head carefully so as not to dislodge the powdered wig atop her head as she carefully judged her companions. She was certain Veronique was playing a secondary game and she narrowed her nearly colorless eyes in spite filled hate upon her back before the impregnable and frighteningly dark door before them.

Reptilian wings draped across strong shoulders, forming a sinewy cloak of muscle and flesh that enveloped his slender form. With silken tresses drawn back into a slick tail that accentuated his widow's peak and the twin onyx horns that protruded from his brow, Iameth made his way for the massive doors just ahead. Their plotting was simple enough in theory, though the execution of their plan would need ot be flawless, for if it weren't, each of them would be penalized severely. That languid gait ceased and he waited, offering each of his current companions - Thea and Veronique - a cursory glance over his shoulder; one to the left and one to the right. He knew that there was little need for knocking or announcement. Within the halls of the Mastema, Arkon Daraul saw everything.

The Overseer of SatyrKiss felt the weight of that gaze upon her slender back and ignored it, her serene expression icy as she surveyed the door before them. Her private thoughts remained her own, locked firmly away from any form of divination as she patiently awaited their permission to enter. It would be foolish to pretend that Arkon Daraul would not see through their plan from the start and she vowed to make no attempts to conceal her mechanations. Perhaps he would reward them for their cunning? Either way, her House had suffered with Leda's....the thought of the halfbreed cur drew the first sign of emotion upon her flawless features, the sneer unable to be held in check...slight and was firmly falling behind the other Houses. She had no choice but to throw in completely with this plan, no matter how foolhardy or risk being seen as weaker than they already were.

The colossal gateway remained closed for a tormenting length, igniting thoughts of unwelcome with each passing second that weighed on on-looking shoulders. Just when the discomfort of solitude and silence reached that unbearable labor the creak of grating stone and grinding gears erupted all around and the doors began sliding inward. Inch by inch they drew apart, creating a partition of space that grew wider with the dripping passage of time, unveiling the cloaked form of the Mastema standing just on the other side. With the warped length of his wizard staff gripped firmly in hand, saffron gems peered through the thick shadow of his hood, roaming over each of those gathered.

Veronique was not one to wait. After all a sense of entitlement and privilege was her byword. She also was not above making elaborate gestures. Giving into the unwelcome thoughts that pushed in at her she sank to her knees before the Master of Barud Das, bowing her head and sending a lush fall of scarlet hair to conceal her cunning and icy gaze.

Private sessions in Barud Das had taught all the sorcerer and sorceress class their status when upon its unhallowed ground. Even recognizing that Thea felt a gut clenching fear at the sight of the obeisance gifted the Mastema by Veronique. She'd never bowed before him in such appealing lines. She'd accorded him every ounce of respect and genuine fear but it had not occurred to her that he would demand genuflection. Had she inadvertently offended him in the past? The tremors that shook her spare and gaunt frame were not easily hidden as she too knelt before him. The heavy weight of her powdered pressuring her bird's neck as she held ramrod stiff. "Mastema."

There was just a brief panic, though no outward sign of this was shown. For just a moment Iameth wondered if perhaps Lord Daraul had already seen through their scheme and was arranging for their destruction, or perhaps rousing his spectral emissaries to unleash their maddening magic upon them. He forced those thoughts from his mind as he waited, suddenly certain that the reason for the wait was to do just that - turn those of weaker will upon themselves. Refocused, he steeled his gaze, and his will upon the doors. As they opened he took a step back, instinctive as it was, and as the sight of Arkon came into view he unfurled his draconic foils and gracefully mimicked Thea's greeting, both in gesture and in word. "Mastema."

She'd not intoned his name, a deliberate gesture as Veronique awaited acknowledgment from him first. Aware of her stunning beauty and the picture she presented she was equally aware that it would have no effect on this man who prized ambition above all else. And it was this understanding that led her to believe that they would succeed at this.

The click of his staff upon the smooth floor echoed throughout the solid walls and vaulted ceiling, a much deeper sound that was felt beneath the breast. He moved forward, a laborious effort that seemed more and more grave with every step he took. Upon reaching their position he paused, his gaze trickling from one to the next, until finally the antiquated intonation of his voice speared through the spawning silence. "Sorcerer and Sorceresses, there is no class today. Why have you come here?" The inquiry seemed to possess no sense of condemnation and yet there was an edge about his question - as if to say that their purpose had best be worthy of his attention.

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-06-25 19:43 EST
Staging a Coup
When Overseers Plot
Part 2

Veronique did not await for Iameth's discourse to start. She needed to exhibit the strength that her House relied upon. "Mastema, we come to you with an issue that only you can see fit to decide upon." She rose, a glorious extension of long leg appearing in the slit in her dark skirt. Hair so red it almost gleamed purple, spilled over one creamy shoulder as she lifted sultry blazing blue eyes upon her Lord and gave him the sweet promise of her soul. It was clear within that one look that she was His. Stricken across the altar of his ambition, she would see herself tied to his ascension for within it she saw her own path. It was this rare emblazoned honesty that made her machinations a possibility. For at the heart of the devious plan Iameth had concocted lie one truth: It was for the betterment of the school. A purpose that the Mastema would support.

All Iameth had to do was wait. Between Thea and Veronique, one of them would feel the urge to take the lead and- ...ah, there she was. Sensual lips of lavender peeled apart in a dastardly grin that was veiled by his bowed head. Quickly it diminished as he stood, the Mastema's acknowledgement seen as recognition. Wings returned to their sheathing position, once more assuming the role of cloak, and quietly he stood.

Thea trembled and fought a wave of lightheadedness as she swallowed back the fear that ate at her dust dry throat. She should never have come her. She should never have agreed to this. He would see them disbarred. Expelled. Or worse they would go the way of the House Unnamed, hideous Vaden scurrying about on endless errands for the arrogant and unknowing students. At heart, Thea possessed little courage and she almost moaned as Veronique began them upon the course that had brought them here, in a rare display of alliance.

Arkon's response to Veronique's lush sensuality was unlike most others - coming in the form of indifference. There was no sign that he wanted her, or lusted after her. There was no trace of fear or discomfort, nor envy. All of the customary reactions to her were absent. In fact, to describe his regard would come as indifferent - a familiar sight that most others received. The hood did shift, though, to show that those dimly glowing eyes of xanthos were leveled upon her bejeweled stare. "It is of the rarest sort then, for I do not offer my judgment in the sway of student affairs." Knotted fingers loosened around the staff, adjusting along its warped length, and then he added. "I will hope that this matter does not waste your effort and my time. What is it?"

He unnerved her with that indifferent perusal. Not that she'd expected to find hint of anything there but when one was accustomed to a certain style of reaction one was left imbalanced when it wasn't present. She swallowed, a hint of her nervousness revealed, "We come to you, as Overseers concerned with an imbalance that does not bode well for our Houses." The bald statement left for a moment to hang between them all, the course revealed.

The Mastema's cutting words were the reason that Iameth wished for another to take the podium of this endeavor. The initial response, he knew, would be looked upon disfavorably, and because of that he wanted the Mastema to relate this with someone other than he. On the other hand, he didn't ignore the arousing rise of Veronique, those watched only with his pale eyes as the majority of his focus remained upon Arkon.

"House StormSabre has been given an unfair advantage and one that mars the level playing field of competition that will allow our brethren to strive for perfection. We all said nothing for we are accustomed to fighting. It is our duty to simply overcome adversity, to find unique ways and better solutions to issues..." Veronique?s voice stroked the words as she unveiled them, purring over their message as she did not seek to conceal the honesty of their petition for to do so would invite his wrath surely.

She was not attempting to manipulate him and it was apparent in her explanation, "And while we might have petulantly groused at this swelling ranks of StormSabre, perhaps more so because we ourselves did not maintain this level of privilege, we were unaware of just how deeply this imbalanced the Houses until the most recent debacles."

A skittering off to the side drew a glance from him, and there a Vaden acted out its current duty of messenger - a scrolled parchment wrapped in his hand. It gave no pause to the Dark Mage or the Overseers as it continued on its path, though the sight of the creature did inspire Arkon to look back and, with a hissed exhale, say, "Houses." He listened, the heavy cowl melting backwards away from his sharp visage to pour down his back and meld into his robes as though dark liquid. Flesh so pale the white was tinged with blue and was capped by hair as black as a raven's wing, framing the contours and indents of a visage that revealed a nearly skeletal countenance. "Imbalanced?" He asked. "How does Stormsabre, the school's newest house, have such an advantage over those Houses who have survived for so long and achieved so much?"

The appearance of a Vaden almost destroyed Thea. The Overseer of GorgonHorn still upon her knees until that moment as she scrambled upward in a sweep of antique skirts. They were all going to become one of those nasty creatures for their daring, though Veronique and Iameth seemed to not share her assessment by their confident stance. There was no backing out now and she swallowed hard as she chimed in for the first time since the meeting had begun, "The Headmistress."

Satariel Shah

Date: 2011-06-25 19:51 EST
Staging a Coup
When Overseers Plot
Part 3

"We do not possess a family member in such a prestigious role. While the Headmistress has always been partial to her offspring it would now seem that such partiality now extends to the House itself, what with the pairing of her precious children to their Stormsabre couplings." Her dusty voice cracked beneath the stress of her encounter, "In the most recent skirmish between houses both Faetha Numidor and Gotha Sindar were found to be in the wrong; yet I must question whether they will be judged fairly in light of such bias."

The Overseer of ViperFang hadn't expected Thea to speak, and as she did his focus diverted to her. How perfect. The two of them trading information while he stood back as silent support. Perfect. Together, the three of them presented a strong front that demonstrated the unity of adversaries pertaining to this matter...and if the Mastema sought to instead deliver to them punishment, he could easily stand apart, using his silence as a sign of his disinterest in their squabble.

Veronique did not appreciate Thea's interruption, having found the perfect ebb and flow of this presentation and now having to account for this blunt explanation. She waved a manicured hand toward Iameth, motioning him to go ahead and air his grievance as well, knowing full well that he would wait and see them sink, "Iameth has more evidence of this." Bluntly.

Shit. It was the only thought Iameth had at the moment.

"The headmistress?" Features became a touch more stern as now it seemed students were questioning a teacher who was held in the highest regard. Seeking further information, those pallid eyes turned to Iameth, and he awaited his explanation.

"Forgive me, Mastema, for I do not wish to cause unrest amongst the Institute, though I feel that Sorceress Veronique's argument has merit. Recently there was a issue inside the infirmary that drew the attention of the Headmistress. Her daughter-" Iameth said the word with as little venom as he could, " -had an altercation with another student, another member of Stormsabre, who was apparently going through some sort of mental deterioration. This student, Mercedes I believe is her name, has been suffering from this trauma from some time, yet the Headmistress sought not to get involved until her daughter was the one who was actually put upon, an obvious sign of favoritism. More than that, though, she demanded that Mistress Evahlys take on the assistance of outside help, and then rejected the aid of my counterpart, Ashriel - which was insult to both he and my house. As it was, the treatments that Mercedes had been adequate for the Headmistress until her precious daughter was the victim,which would appear that she cares little for the student body as a whole, and more about the wellbeing of her own children."

"I should like to include that in recent light with Gotha, a major component of my House, facing suspension for situation with Faetha, that I find it worth mentioning that if Mercedes were truly such a detriment and danger why has she not been removed? Could it be because she is House StormSabre as well and that would not look good for the House that her children reside within?" Thea was going to be a Vaden...she just knew it.

"We are here simply to present this to you Mastema. We would not dare to convey a message that would put any demands upon you nor would we seek to disparage one of your faculty. Mistress Natolii is an excellent instructor of shadow magic and I'll be most honest with you....our Houses are not without the means to have handled what we saw as an unnatural advantage...." The crystalline blue eyes were sheened with such ice as to be inhuman, a breath drawn that strained the bodice of her sleek top, as Veronique conveyed the unmentioned dangerous element of three sorcerers coming together on an issue, "...but we are rarely of one accord. In fact, as Overseer Pausanias pointed out in a lecture upon the history of our school, three Houses coming together has never before occurred. We are as one in the recognition of this disadvantage and will abide by your decision upon this matter."

The drifting sway of spectral eyes moved between each of them, aligning upon whomever spoke and then shifting to the next. There was no hint upon his corpse-like expression as to how he regarded their sentiments, no indication as to how such accusations were perceived. He merely listened, and upon the conclusion of Sorceress Veronique's declaration turned and began back toward his awaiting chamber. The fall of feet, the click of his staff; it appeared to be his only reply.

"We are all going to be Vaden." She hissed and nearly collapsed in on herself as he departed.

"Silence." He hissed as quietly as he could, seeking to be heard only by Thea. He hoped not, though if that were one of the Mastema's options he would rather it be furthest from his brilliant mind.

She hissed a shushing sound upon the weak Overseer of GorgonHorn, "Pull yourself together Thea." Disgust clearly evident as she sent icy blue eyes dismissively over her before gliding past her to land upon the mastermind behind this little affair. There was a dark promise held within those chilling depths before she abruptly departed. This alliance now over as far as she was concerned.
Iameth watched until the form of Arkon disappeared inside those looming doors and then turned narrowed eyes and curling horns upon Thea. He spoke with ice and bile, unsheathing dozens of fangs and twin tongues. "You're weak will is what will doom us, Underseer. While your House may be stuck in the sands of time, some of us are seeking greater achievement. I should have known not to ally myself with the likes of you." He gave her not chance to reply. Wings unfurled as his spell was cast beneath his bare feet, the glowing gate parting like a gaping maw to devour him from sight.

Their shared contempt was exactly what she needed for she would not be spoken down to in such a way. Drawing herself up to her spindly height, Thea Pausanias glared after both their manipulative backs. Whatever their fates may be she would face it with the dignity expected of one of her position. Her next breath was painful within her frozen taut chest, but the racing heartbeat had faded somewhat. Brushing a dignified hand over her skirts she awaited a moment, not willing to catch either of her co-conspirators before beginning on a slow and arrogantly performed pace from Barud Das.

"Sorceress."

The word seeped from those doors to find her ears.

Thea froze. A fearful breath caught on a hitch as her heart sped up rapidly. Slowly the powdered wig was turned toward the door...

"Come." That menacing voice of antique lineage said. "Join me. Let us talk further."

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-06-26 17:51 EST
{Laurus Wing}

There was something... disturbing about packing up your belongings like this. There was a lump in the pit of his stomach as he went over his mother's note again. This trip was not going to be a healthy one to be sure. He wanted to refuse, but this was his mother's wish and it was an honor for the house.

So why couldn't he shake the feeling of dread... The thought of leaving Vliss alone here bothered him greatly. The demon within concurred...

She was his mate, with or without the bonding. ~Angel... Could you do me a huge favor?~

He took comfort in the familiar mental caress of his twin. ~Anything, Damien.~

He knew he could trust only a small handful. ~Could you, Ilyona and Esteban keep an eye on Vliss? I don't trust Iameth or Grant.~ Ilyona was Vliss' mentee, so it would be easy to keep her close if need be.

He felt the grim acceptance. ~Of course.~

A little relief, but he wouldn't feel any better until he had Vliss close to him. Certain items were set aside for her. His cloak which he knew she loved to nestle into, a rune stone that would give her a way to teleport to his parents house in the case of an emergency... And a small box... a ring box.

He had to make a promise to her. This mission was very dangerous though he knew he would make it. The shadows were a second home to him.

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-06-27 19:23 EST
Chamber Calendula

Patty dragged herself wearily through the door and thumped down, face first, on her bed. Her first day at the IAP, and dear god, had it been exhausting. Between tutors, other students, and the sheer effort of finding her way through the labyrinthine hallways, she didn't think she had ever felt so tired, outside of a memorable five hour battle with demons during her last year at school back home.

Her bag, dropped carefully on the floor beside the bed, miaowed, something inside wriggling to get free. A tiny black and white paw pushed out through the gap left in the zipper, easing the gap wider until Wesley could poke his head out, the rest of his little body following. The kitten scrambled up onto the bed beside his mistress, patting gently at her face until she rolled aside, propping her head up on her hand to pet him with a weary smile.

As much as Patty enjoyed studying, she just couldn't face it tonight. Not after spending all day getting lost, told off for being late, and then told off some more for not actually understanding what each of the schools of focus actually represented. Everyone seemed to have an opinion of her, based entirely on a single meeting, and she hadn't even sat through a single lesson yet!

According to the Mistmarks, she was woefully ignorant of everything to do with the true application of magic; according to Mistress Lillura, she should give serious consideration to choosing Abjuration for one of her focuses because of her innate ability; Mistress LaCroix wanted her to demonstrate her Astral Projection under fire sometime soon; Mistress Vadten had no time for her, because she didn't have the aptitude for Divination, apparently; Mistress Praysin had given her a hug and told her to ignore Sartha, after the hulking blue-grey minotaur threatened to rip out her spleen if she asked him for directions one more time.

She was very pleased she wouldn't have to take more than one lesson a week with Master Nil'aiha - the man had real personal space issues, namely that he kept getting in hers and making her feel entirely too hot for comfort. Master Tracha had tested her telekinesis every which way he could, and marked her up for more advanced training alongside the basics of spell-cast Evocation. Master Dymierer had looked her over, and handed over a schedule of his classes - X marked the spot in this case, the lessons he expected her to attend.

Mistress Lyricstar had also tested Patty's TK, and declared that there was little for her to learn in Summoning, unless she planned to start calling for things on the other side of the continent. Mistress Van Blaudin had simply tipped her a wink, remarking on what a shame it was that Patty wouldn't be joining her classes. In the Infirmary, Mistress Evahlys had handed her a large box containing various contraceptives and cure-alls, and told her not to come back unless she was dying.

And that wasn't all of them. Tomorrow, she'd have to present herself to those she had not been marked down to meet today, and hope like hell no one let Sartha - or Hufflepuff, she understood the joke now - do anything permanent to her if she irritated him again.

Of the students ... well, she hadn't actually seen any of them properly today. Not even Jerry, whom she hoped had had a better time of it than her. She'd caught glimpses of those she recognised - Jerry, Alaric, Elkinid, Ilyona, even smug Jacen - as they moved to and fro through the school, but conversation wasn't a luxury she'd been allowed today.

Her roommate and mentor, Quillyan Daewen, was apparently spelunking on a challenge Mistress Praysin had set, leaving Patty at a bit of a loss now she was settled into the IAP proper. She didn't fancy reading over anything at the moment; if anything, she just wanted out of the school's oppressive atmosphere for a few hours.

Pulling herself to her feet again, she shed her blazer, loosened her tie, and slipped out of the room before Wes could realise she was leaving. Leaving a note on the door to say where she'd gone, she headed for the gates, and a few hours of freedom away from the cool stone of the school.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-06-28 17:31 EST
When he'd finally been pointed in the right direction for his room, it hadn't taken long to pin down the location. The huge beast of a dorm warden had merely glared at him when he asked before stomping off, growling something about not being a road map. There don't seem to be any other students about this time of day, either - either out on the town or in bed, he'd wager.

This would be the best time to get the lay of the place, maybe have a little fun, but there are things he wants to get done. He's not going to be comfortable until he's settled into his room, wherever it is...and taken care of a few things.

He's sure that there've been a few whispers about him already, just because of the few encounters with the other students. It's funny to him, really, that simply speaking his mind could drive some people to testing the limits of their own sanity.

The best part of the joke is that they all seem to think they're just angry at him.

He's on the verge of picking a random hallway and simply relying on fate to get where he's going when he hears the clicking of heels on the stone floor behind him. Turning, his pale eyes take in a tall, curving figure dressed in a strapless cocktail dress that drops to just above mid-thigh. Too-brilliant, detached blue eyes regard him above ruby-shaded lips that curve in a coolly amused smile, all framed by a thick fall of golden hair.

Altogether, one hot tamale. There's a moment as the natural thoughts cross his mind - is she a teacher or a student, how would she look out of that cocktail dress - before he remembers he's heading somewhere. "Hey, uh, miss...? Could you tell me how to get to Dianthus Wing...?"

She doesn't stop walking as she speaks, passing him. "Down the hallway, third left, second right." As she's walking past him he turns to go, and he hears her voice again. "And stop undressing me with your eyes, Jacen...I'm practically your stepmother, for heavens' sake."

Turning sharply, he looks back, only to find her gone.

What the...?

He's still puzzling over it, ten minutes later, as he and the Rottweiler walk into the Dianthus wing, and he pauses at the edge of the common room, a stunned expression on his face.

He and his mother had lived in a rather simple dual-level duplex which always seemed increasingly cramped and narrow the older he got. Except for the kitchen, which was an odd contrast - the largest room in the house, in fact. And always full of smells, an odd miasma that spoke of savory recipes, with a bitter undertone of herbs and odd mixtures.

There's some of that here, too, but it's only a ghost of the essence that was among the few things that could rouse the demigod to an emotion other than detached, mischievous amusement. But this place is huge by comparison, almost cavernous to a young man used to living in much more meager housing.

He doesn't have much trouble finding his way to his own living quarters - of the hallways that lead away only one has the stagnant, abandoned feel to it that he's come to associate with disuse. And as he enters them, he looks around with that same stunned expression, a lopsided grin on his face as he imagines the things he could do with a place this size, all to himself.

"Damn, Mom. If you could see me now."

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-06-28 17:32 EST
The Rottweiler, so silent a companion that his presence is almost forgotten, looks up at his master at this comment, his ears perking up a fraction, then proceeds to wander into the suite, sniffing in corners and looking in crevices, exploring the premises.

Still looking around with an awestruck smile, Jacen walks over to the couch and the low table before it, setting the black cloth parcel down as he stands there, looking around. Despite the evidence that no one's been in here for a while, it seems the place has been well cared-for - no layer of dust on the table, no cracking or dry-rotting of the supple leather upholstery, the carpet clean and almost new-looking.

"Swank."

He takes a moment to familiarize himself with the place. The bedroom, unadorned but with a large, very comfortable-looking bed, wardrobe, and other appointments; what looks like an empty room meant to be used as a workspace, obviously customizable to the resident's needs; the bathroom with a tub almost big enough to do laps in; the sitting room, comfortable but also utilitarian, meant to focus the student on his work rather than inspiring idle time. No TV or Playstation here.

On the other hand, he thinks to himself, there's more kinds of fun to be had than staring at images on a screen.

First things first, however. Returning to the parcel, he moves the couches away from the low table, he sits on the floor and unwraps the black cloth, layer after layer, from the bundle, which looks perhaps to be the size of a large hardcover book. The fabric seems to have been tightly folded around this, but the demigod peels back layer after layer of the finely-woven fabric until it's covering the table and trailing over the sides, spilling onto the floor, leaving two objects in the middle.

The first is a leather-bound book that has the look of being newly-made and unused. No symbols or words adorn the simple, soft, dark brown hide cover. Next to it lies a length of wood that resembles a wand made of some ancient, dark, gnarled wood, and it is this he picks up first.

As he lifts it, the wooden wand suddenly expands, thickening and lengthening to a staff that greatly resembles the wand.

You have to love things that shrink down to a convenient travel size.

The heart of one of the Trees of Life, from the Garden of the Hesperides. He knew the legends, and he wonders exactly how his father had managed to take it without Hera knowng he'd done it.

Or if Hera had known and his father had simply not cared. There would be little that the goddess could do to him, anyway.

Looking at the length of wood now, he considers carefully. The instructions he had received had stated that his 'wand' had to contain one offensive enchantment, and a simple size-altering spell didn't cover that.

But then, he knows, there are many more ways than one to skin a cat.

From the time he was twelve, he'd been learning what he could on his own. Looking up arcane lore, digging into spellbooks, experimenting with different methods. In the end, he'd found, it, it was will, belief and desire which powered magic as he's always seen it.

The staff takes only a few moments, and by the time he's done with it, he's confident that anyone will be able to see the offensive capability once its demonstrated.

But that can wait. The spell book comes next, and that is going to take some time longer.

In fact it takes most of the afternoon, during which he's bent over the book, writing pages upon pages. Not of spells or rituals, but of equations, diagrams and notations. Any words are written, curiously, in Greek, mostly in margins and amongst the lines of drawn diagrams. Finished for now, he flips the book closed to the first page, where he writes carefully in flowing Greek.

Έχω γελάσει σε σας γιατί είστε όλοι το ίδιο.

Closing it all the way, he stands and stretches, looking around the room again. One more thing to do, just as a precaution.

He walks over to the entrance hallway, taking the charcoal pencil he's been using with him, and pauses halfway down it. Turning to one wall, he writes sideways, scrolling down the wall in a straight line: Κανένα, διέρχονται που δεν έχει δηλωθεί ως ένα φίλο, and then turns to the other, where he writes more, this time going up the wall towards the ceiling: Αλίμονο σε όλες τις διεφθαρμένες ψυχές. Murmuring as he writes, once the last letter is written the letters gleam for a second, electric blue light flickering along the scrolling text before it fades again.

The spell will keep everyone he doesn't want coming into his room out of it, of that he's certain. It's the first step to making this dwelling a semblance of a home, if only for a time.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-06-29 19:13 EST
here.]


"It's what I call my spectral touch." Iameth explained, comfortably reclined in a plush wingback chair not very far from the table where Ebonique lay. His almond shaped gaze, lacking any other color save for the pool of lavender that filled it entirely, was focused solely on her. "How do you like it?"

With clothing allayed, the sensual Rakshasi twisted and turned in a languid writhe; dark eyes sheathed behind heavy lids and plump lips parted in gasping respite. She'd felt many things in her centuries of existence, though not many compared to the seductive caress of invisible fingers and palms - dozens of them, as it was - that masterfully possessed her. The length of her spine, the backs of her knees, along with swollen breasts and bare thighs - those unseen digits touched and teased, stroked and brushed, until she was unreservedly inundated with arousal.

So intense was the sensation that she found herself quickly spiraling toward the edge of elation, and before she could harness that withering control she was hurled into convulsive release. Crying out, her nubile body arched into the invisible grasp, and she rode the length of the orgasm completely. Panting for breath, her head lolled to the side and she brought her legs together at the cost of quivering thighs, slowly revealing her chocolate colored gaze.

"You bastard." She purred as fingers extended and called for him with a curl.

She was answered with a sinister smirk and nothing more, deciding to instead remain seated in simple observation of her.

There was a glint of mischief that filled those feline eyes, though it went unanswered as the doors to the Viperfang lounge blew inward so hard that they rebounded off the adjoining walls.

"Cinder." Iameth greeted the Mage, though never took his eyes from the passion-plagued novitiate.

The vampire's stride was strong and steady, and while the entrance through the doors might have been a violent outburst, to gaze upon the solemnly pale features of Cinder revealed nothing of the sort. He moved to the seat beside Iameth and occupied it, not even a glance awarded to his glabrous guest. "Why is it that I am being summoned by the Head Mistress to partake in a mission as punishment?"

"The Head Mistress?" Iameth asked, feigning ignorance. "Who is that? You mean the Deaconess?"

"Mistress Natolii."

"Ohhhh, I see you. You understand my confusion though, don't you? Seeing as how she is no longer the Head Mistress."

"It matters not." Cinder replied, his tone even and stone cold. "It seems your antics and mischief will be atoned for with my shoulders."

"Your sacrifice is appreciated, Mage Havenloche...greatly."

"Sacrifice? It is hardly that." Cinder reclined in the chair, letting his hands fall along the arms to grip the ends. "The letter I received says that you insulted the Mastema."

"Hyperbole." Iameth assured him. "If truly I had offended Lord Daraul I would certainly not be here any longer."

"I doubt he would have merely expelled you from the school."

"I doubt so, too. I would not be here as in: at all."

The vampire considered his words before slowly nodding. "I agree."

"So you see, for Head Mistre-" He paused long enough to show Cinder a callous grin that revealed rows of vicious looking fangs. "-I mean, Just-Mistress Natolii- to convey the message in such a way is only to inspire fear and obedience. I know I would not defy the command of Arkon. Who would?"

"Not I."

"Of course not. So fret not, Cinder. The alliance worked to perfection. No longer is there an ace up the sleeve of Stormsabre. We've leveled the playing field."

"Truly wicked." Came the distant purr, gaining Iameth's lingering glance. Ebonique had slid from the table under the veil of focus cast by Cinder's arrival to stand beside it and don her clothing. Stark white bathed her torso, where buttons were synched to shield gorgeous breasts. Next came her skirt. Stepping into the wreath of the garment, she drew it up the length of her legs, slowing the motion and adding a shimmy to her hips once she noted Iameth's attention.

Cinder remained attentive. "Almost. Still, I must complete this task before we are all truly on equal footing."

"And yet, with every endeavor comes opportunity." Iameth pulled his gaze from Ebonique to inquisitively look off in the distance. "Where have I heard that before?"

"I...told you that."

Again there was a grin, serpentine and wicked. "Oh that's right. From the looks of it, though, you will be taking this little jaunt with a few new friends?"

"Friends." The vampire hissed the word. "Yes. Apprentice Pausanias and Mage Benedykt."

"See." The sinuous motion from the table caught his sinful gaze and Iameth paused long enough to watch the Rakshasi stretch a cream colored nylon all the way up her left leg, where the top of the stocking was molded to her thigh. Back to Cinder his gaze went. "There is our opportunity."

"Oh?"

"Indeed."

The other leg was deliciously adorned and petite feet were tucked inside slippers, which led to Ebonique's departure. A slight detour took her past the recumbent Overseer of House Viperfang, where a bend at the waist was all that was needed to offer him a brush of fingers across his shoulder and lips across his cheek. "I'll see you soon." Motion never ceased, her stride carrying her right on through. She did offer a small wave to Cinder, who was now looking at her, but he did not share in the gesture, instead simply turning back to Iameth.

Iameth watched her depart with a darkly wistful appreciation for her beauty. How he would love to tear the dark flesh from her bones. He turned back to Cinder with an abrupt suddenness; that impious capriciousness alleviated for something much more stern.

"Benedykt." He hissed. "See he doesn't come back."

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-06-30 19:03 EST


Present yourself at 4 o'clock this afternoon to Masters Tracha and Smout'n, and Mistresses LaCroix and Lillura, in the Tower of Abjuration. Do not bring wand, cloak, or spellbook.

When Patience had read that missive, handed to her by one of the Vaden as she was rising from breakfast that morning, she'd felt her heart turn into a ball of ice and drop into her stomach. Was she going to be expelled? Had she done something so heinous that these four members of the faculty were going to rip her to shreds and lie about what they'd done to her?

It hadn't seemed likely, admittedly. Master Tracha and Mistress Lillura had gone out of their way to challenge her in her lessons with them thus far, and Mistress LaCroix was apparently still undecided about her. Smout'n was the only one of the four she had not met, simply because he had decided from a distance that she would not have the ability nor the interest in his subject. Since his subject was Necromancy, he was absolutely right.

When she had arrived at the Tower of Abjuration, sans everything that could assist her in spell-casting or defence, it had been to discover that the classroom itself had been enchanted somehow. Within its walls lay a coiling, swirling mass of shadows, and above it, she had been presented with the intimidating spectacle of the four teachers comfortably sat at a levitating table, calmly surveying the shifting mass of darkness. Master Tracha had been the one to speak to her, his voice reaching her with impossible ease.

"Novice Powell, you will enter the Maze and retrieve an artifact left at the center for this very purpose," he had informed her, his tone just as arrogant as she had encountered it before. "You will overcome any obstacles you face with only the innate abilities you came to us with. You will succeed."

"Yes, Master Tracha." What else could she say?

Of course, what he hadn't told her was just what those obstacles were going to be. The Maze was constantly shifting, the shadows that formed the walls always in a state of flux, changing their places almost before she could orientate herself within the half-light that remained to her.

As she crept through the shifting shadows, Patience had encountered traps that spat fire or acid at her, or removed the solid shadow from beneath her feet. Those were easy for her to deal with; fire and acid were easily deflected back from where they had come with her trained reflexes, one hand rising to form a barrier of energy that pushed that danger away from her. Likewise, when the shadows left nothing but air beneath her feet, she used her telekinesis without thinking, launching herself from mid-air to solid ground once more.

If she had stopped to think about it, she would have realised that this was a test, a demonstration of her already trained skills for the faculty members currently observing her progress through the Maze. The traps she encountered were there to inform them of how well she had been trained, how quickly she could react, how strong her innate power of telekinesis really was. Evocation and Abjuration at its most basic - the subjects taught by Master Tracha and Mistress Lillura.

Of course, right now, she didn't have time to worry about that. Upon reaching the centre of the Maze, she had been set upon by the undead. Dozens of them - skeletons, animated corpses, even a lich - had come pouring from the various openings in the shadows, threatening to overwhelm her.

Above, the faculty looked on with various degrees of approval and understated admiration as Novice Powell fought with the creatures attempting to swarm her under. Mistress Lillura was making notes with an elegant quill.

"Oh, do stop that, Lillura, and watch," Zhennavieve LaCroix told her irritably. "She's going to be one to pay attention to; the least you can do is give her your attention during her testing."

"I have already tested her," was Lillura's somewhat cool reply. "I do not see the need for this chicanery."

"I fail to see the reason for your interest, Zhennavieve," Samcenu Tracha added, dark eyes grudgingly showing admiration as the novice made good use of her natural-born skills to decapitate three of the skeletons with a spinning kick. "She has shown no aptitude toward Illusion in the slightest."

"I am here for -" The Illusion Mistress' answer was cut off by a sudden cold bark of mirthless laughter from the last of their odd quartet, Smout'n's hand slapping down onto the table to point at what was going on below.

Patience had dispensed with all but one of her adversaries - each of them under Smout'n's control, of course - and had been left with the lich to deal with. It was clear she'd never come up against one before; everything she did, even wielding a forgotten sword once held by a now immovable pile of bones, had no effect, for the creature's phylactery was the artifact she had been sent to retrieve.

At a loss, and slowly being backed into a corner by an undead being with power enough to turn her into a smoking pair of shoes if she didn't pay close enough attention, the novice had taken a step back, out of the lich's sight. The faculty watched as she closed her eyes, seeming to draw herself entirely inward ... and a perfect copy of her stepped into view.

"- that," Zhennavieve finished rather smugly, gesturing to the novice and her astral copy as they darted back into the center of the Maze. "Astral Projection, my dear Samcenu, one of the most basic yet most effective forms of Illusion."

A dark smile curved the lips of the Master of Evocation. "A perfect candidate for the advanced combat magics, it would seem."

Below, Patty was running out of ideas. She'd stabbed the cadaverous thing, used her telekinesis to add power as she brained it, kicked it, punched it, wrapped it in a stranglehold of energy ... and it was still going. Nothing was putting it down. It was confused, though; soulless eyes swung back and forth between the true novice and her astral self, each standing feet from one another, moving independantly of one another.

Of course, it was more than a bit of a headache to be seeing the world from two different perspectives at once, especially where the situation really did seem to be life or death. You will succeed, Master Tracha had said. He hadn't said, You will live. Something else struck her in that moment - not once had it been said she would have to destroy the obstacles in her path. Just overcome them. Deception might work here ...

With a yell from both herself and her astral body, both Pattys rushed forward, skidding around the lich to descend on the pedestal behind it. A moment later, and two identical novices bearing identically ornate stone boxes were running in opposite directions, disappearing through different apertures in the shifting shadows of the maze.

Behind her, Patty heard the lich let out a harsh, vindictive scream of fury, the odd clickety-clack of bones being reassembled. Ahead of her, she could see both paths - the one that was before her, and the one before her astral self. It was so hard, so difficult to direct them both through the coiling shadows, following two different paths, hoping like hell that her real self was following the right one.

Her foot caught on something, sending her tumbling to the ground, and her concentration wavered. The Astral Patty, somewhere to the east of the swirling maze, flickered and disappeared, and another roar echoed through the enchanted tower classroom. The lich now knew who had the box, which one of his prey was real.

Scrambling to her feet, Patty tucked the box more securely under one arm and made a risky decision. Aiming herself straight for the shadowy wall ahead of her, she shut her eyes and ran for it, pushing through the grasping, oddly warm tendrils of insubstantial mist, feeling herself push past the cold fingers of the undead minions seeking her, until suddenly she rammed straight into a writing desk. It skidded on the stone floor, the sharp corner winding her as she went down on one knee, twisting to defend herself against pursuit.

The Maze was gone. She found herself kneeling in Mistress Lillura's classroom, still clutching the box tightly to her chest as the four tutors approached her. Smout'n, tall and robed in darkness, held out his hand for the box she held, and Patty gave it up without a second thought, not even pausing to wonder as he secreted it somewhere within his robes.

"Thank you, Novice Powell," Master Tracha was saying, already dismissing her as he turned to speak with the other faculty members. "You may go."

Nonplussed, out of breath, Patty stood up, staring at the group in something approaching shock. She'd gone through all that, performed for their amusement, and now she was being dismissed without even a reward for surviving her battle with the undead? The unfairness of it stung at her pride, but she wasn't stupid enough to argue. Not with Master Smout'n in the room - he scared the pants off her.

Drawing in a breath to try and calm herself, she turned, letting herself out of the classroom to sag against the wall, still breathless with her exertions. That had not been like anything she had ever experienced before; a teaching session that involved real, tangible danger. What the hell was wrong with this school?

Myraddin Numidor

Date: 2011-06-30 19:07 EST
The storm that brewed high above the main building of the school was not his intent, though it accurately reflected the demeanor of Myraddin Numidor as he prowled the halls of the structure toward the evocation wing. Upon arriving, he threw the door open and stepped in, eyes instantly in search of the classroom's master.

Samcenu Tracha, the Dark Elven Master of Evocation, stood at the center of the amphitheater-like chamber, his focus upon the student who currently sought his aid. Perched upon a tall stool, he watched as gestures were made and sigils were written upon the air, their precision a telltale sign of that particular spell's mastery.

"We need to talk!" The storm elf declared as he descended from up high, lightning spreading in violent webs across his gaze.

"Well done-" Samcenu was saying before being interrupted by the bold statement that rang out through the entire room as though riding upon the rumble of thunder. He turned his gaze upward, a thin brow of ivory careened with curiosity. "Do we?"

Myraddin arrived at the ground level and strode to where the Master stood, the student utterly ignored. Like a Jacob's ladder, energy traveled between his arm and his torso, rising up the space between fingertips and thigh to expend just below the armpit - a sight only seen when the storm elf was completely enraged. "Uma! Faetha was expelled!"

"Not expelled." Samcenu corrected with a perturbed sigh, turning to face his aggressor. "She was suspended, though to be honest she probably should have been expelled. If I were you I would be thankful that the punishment did not extend to its full severity."

"Suspended for proving to that filthy Githyanki who its better is? Hardly a crime deserving of any punishment, much less one so harsh!"

"Do you really think that is why she was suspended, Myraddin?"
The question startled him, causing him to recoil slightly from his abrasive conduct. He blinked a few times and then gawked. "What other reason could there be?"

"How about the fact that Arabel Hawthorne is dead?"

"The Gith's fault, no doubt!"

"Both of their faults, Myraddin. Had they not been so reckless and undisciplined they would not have taken the life of another student. Because of it, they are both suspended. If anyone has the right to angered, it is Isabel Hawthorne. Their magic was symbiotic, living between the two, and with Arabel's passing Isabel is now only half as strong as she was before."

"So let us resurrect her and be done with it! Surely Master Smout'n has a way."

"You know resurrection is forbidden, Apprentice Numidor, and strictly so. It is the Mastema's command."

"But Vliss was-"

"Nau." The dark elf said sternly in his native tongue; its use somehow adding more weight to his response. "Mage Arcanum was not resurrected."

"But she died and came back."

"She is an earth spirit, Myraddin. Her kind naturally reincarnates. The soul was never relieved from the body."

"I don't care!" The storm elf snapped, the emission of frustration accompanied by a half-dozen arches of lightning that tore across the room and slammed randomly into walls and tables, leaving the smell of scorched air wafting about.

Tired of the antics, Samcenu reached out and harnessed the bolts of electricity that bathed his chamber, twisting them back around, bending them to his will. He laced them together, forging four walls, and enclosed them around Myraddin so tightly that if he did not remain paralyzed he would brush against their deadly surge. "Shall we test whether or not the scorpion is immune to his own stinger?" The master of evocation threatened, those walls becoming incrementally smaller to accentuate his point.

Frozen, it seemed that the answer was obvious. While a brother of the storm, Myraddin was not it's master and was susceptible to its bite.

"Now, I've had about enough of this little outburst, Apprentice. I'll need some time to conjure an adequate punishment for your insolence, so in the meanwhile why don't you take your leave of my class and remain gone until I summon you."

"But-"

"This includes your classes."

"I'll fall behind!"

"An outcome you should have considered before barging in here and interrupting me. Perhaps you'll reconsider such a course the next time you are in the midst of such a petulant response. Now go, and do not show yourself within these walls until you are otherwise invited."

The magic dissipated, sizzling out of existence with a soft pop.

Furious, Myraddin turned and stormed out, taking those stairs with the same ferocity as he descended them.

Samcenu waited until he heard the door close and then sighed, shaking his head in dismissal of the entire scene. He turned back to the student who he had been instructing and offered the slash of a smile. "Seems that there is always something going awry."

The soft, plump lips of Ebonique slowly parted in a sensual smile as her dark eyes flickered upward from the Drow evoker to the door the Storm elf departed through. "Yes, it seems so."

Alaric Granger

Date: 2011-06-30 20:17 EST
There apparently were fireworks all over the school today and he'd thankfully missed most of them. So it was with some surprise that he received the note from the Vaden. Its annoyed huff was accompanied by a cloud of cigarette smoke as it tossed the rolled parchment at him and disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

"Mean-tempered little shits." He scowled after it as he unfolded his new room assignment. Being a commuter he hadn't really expected to find himself with roommates and was surprised by the contents.

"Nathilium Wing?" He knew where that was, after all, his one and only sleepover on campus had occurred in the bed of the creepy little Nemese Pausanias thanks to ElKinid's plotting.

With Nina at home, pregnant and hysterical, he felt guilty enough about spending every waking minute at the Institute. It would be a rare occasion that he actually spent the night within its hallowed halls. But it was good to know that he possessed a room.

As lightning crackled warningly, Alaric figured if nothing else it would provide a quiet place to study where there was less--a glance across the Commons revealed the gaggle of girls who were consoling Isabel Hawthorne in the middle of their circle--distractions.

Cadence Smyth

Date: 2011-06-30 20:41 EST
Chamber Zingibar

"Oh Grail you have to admit the name of the Chamber is absolutely zippy!" Cadence spun about in a graceful pirouette that sent her uniform skirt flaring as she deliberately crashed into him and drove them both down upon her newly arrived bed.

His startled expulsion of air was his only real response.

"And." She giggled from atop his slender chest, tapping a nail on the tip of his nose, "I'm a ton more fun than Margot. Admit it."

Seeing as how he didn't apparently care to admit it, she didn't push.

Instead she rolled off of him to find a comfortable spot nested against his side. "Okay, okay, you were asking about the meeting you missed." She sighed theatrically and trailed her nails over his throat and collarbone.

She filled him in on the details of the ViperFang Meeting, omitting her own growing realization that she was finding herself the weakest link repeatedly. Her guest of honor, Miss Patience Powell, had not struck the fancy of the other females in attendance, nor had she possessed the good sense to be honored by the attention of the House.

Bryn had most assuredly noticed and her dismissal had made Cadence's stomach clench in growing unease. Iameth had given each of them a task to assess the new students...and had completely overlooked her. Bryn and Elizabeth were both to concentrate on their assigned pupils through the mentoring program and then in a surprising twist, he'd also asked Bryn to judge Jacen's qualities as well.

Where did that leave Cadence? Even Chika had intel to offer on Satyrkiss and Gina's decision to tempt Brizia their direction.

She trailed off for a moment, ignoring Grail's response as she considered the question that hammered at her soul: Why had she been inducted into ViperFang? She was beginning to doubt herself, an odd sensation for the easygoing bardess.

It took her a few minutes to realize that she was being asked another question and, without revealing the growing doubts beneath the surface, she blithely answered on a whirlwind of chatter.

After all, she'd seen what her Housemates thought of weakness.

((The basis for this scene is taken from one role-played by the following: Ashriel Iameth, Bryn Barron, Chika Kokuri, Elizabeth, and Patience Powell. Thank you everybody!!))

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-06-30 23:20 EST
He'd tried to stay out of trouble for at least the first day.

Really, he tried.

He'd found his course schedule outside his door the day after he got settled in. There had been no times next to each entry on the list, and he supposed that he was supposed to attend the classes in the order they were written.

He made it through the first few classes. He'd enjoyed Marius Mistmark, who had begun by asking him to write the most simple spell he knew from memory. That was easy enough, a simple paper sheet replication formula that he'd drawn out and shown to the Master of Spell Craft.

He'd made the spell himself, drawing on a bunch of things he'd learned from various sources and molding them into his own formula; what he showed to Master Mistmark had looked not like arcane magical text but more like mathematical equations. Still, the teacher had not looked impressed...until the young demigod had blown on the sheet of paper and an entire ream had spilled out of the single page and scattered along the desk and floor.

His wife had been a different matter, as he'd never had to perform magic by ritual before, and he found the whole thing rather tedious, really. He much preferred to improvise, to do things by instinct and imagination rather than by rote and formula and process. He had, however, at least made an effort to learn, and he had the feeling that he wouldn't be one of the component mistress' favorites, but at least she hadn't swept his work into the trash at her first review.

Illusion had come next, but for some reason the teacher hadn't shown. Or, well, so most of the class had thought. About two minutes after it had started a young, sweet and shy-looking girl had entered and taken a seat with the rest of the students, looking intimidated and uncertain, as well as expectantly anticipating the teacher.

But - being his father's son - he knows a few things...like the smell and feel of the dead and their close cohorts, the undead. And being who he is himself, he knows the look of mischief and amusement, of someone getting a great deal of satisfaction at their own game. She'd looked both surprised and pleased when he'd sat down next to her and asked - very quietly - how long she planned to continue the charade, she'd just smiled and winked saucily at him before replying that the rest of the students would get to see her tomorrow before turning and chatting it up with another young-looking female Novice.

Abjuration had been another mixed bag of odd moments. The class Mistress had introduced herself curtly as Lillura and gone right into a lecture on defensive techniques, hardly looking at the students but for quick glances, seemingly to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep on her. He'd gotten bored, but amused himself by randomly disappearing between glances, then moving to another seat. He'd gotten a few narrowed looks from the woman, but little else.

And then came Divination.

He'd almost choked on his laughter coming through the door, as much on laughter as much as the thick scents of tea, frankincense and myrrh. Mirrors, crystals, teacups, bowls, stones, bones - it was all here, every method of divining magical information known to man, and he'd rolled his eyes as he'd looked around at it all from his seat.

The Mistress must have seen him, because he'd been the object of her scorn from the time she started walking anf talking around the classroom. Her soft, almost hypnotic voice had drifted to each and every one of the students as she explained that Divination was an art that only a privileged few possessed and could possibly master. At that point she had settled her gaze on him and scornfully added that there were others who could learn little from her course and were best served by sticking to what they knew best.

The stares and smug smirks from some of the other students hadn't rankled as much as hers had, but he'd managed to keep his temper up to that point, even snorting softly to himself. The Mistress must have had ears like a hawk, though, because she'd focused her gaze on him again, her pouting lips pursing for a moment before she'd started speaking to the class, her quit voice scornful.

"You see here, students, a man incapable of learning this sacred, fascinating art because he doesn't care - not about his future or anyone else's. So he's blinded himself by his own foolishness." Her pretty features had shifted to a delicate sneer as she started turning away.

He'd had just about enough at that point - the titters and chuckles around him made him bristle, but moreso it was the disdain, the scorn he'd gotten from her that really did it.

"I'll make a bet with you, Mistress. Ten crowns says I can predict the future right now, on the spot."

Her turn had stopped even as a few "oooooh"s had risen from the class, reversed so that her gaze came to rest on the young demigod again, that sneer still evident, disdain coloring her features as she spoke in that same quiet, hypnotic voice. "Such arrogance, I see. What is your name, young man?"

"Jacen Balthazar," He'd replied without hesitation. "And I bet that, within five seconds of my finishing speaking, a capuchin monkey and a mongoose will crawl out of your skirt and start playing with your hair. Two seconds after that a camel will walk through that door -" he'd indicated the entrance to the classroom with a wave "- and spit on you."

For a moment the Divination mistress had looked utterly nonplussed by this bizarre prediction, before she spoke out again. "That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard. Get ouaaaAAAAAGH!"

The end of her statement turned into a screech as she slapped at her skirt, which seemed to have come alive with animated, scurrying shapes crawling down her legs. An instant later the monkey and the mongoose both peered out of the lower hem of the teacher's skirt, dodging her wild swings easily as they scrambled up towards her shoulders and immediately started rummaging through her flaxen hair as though they smelled that it contained something savory to eat.

Amidst the teacher's screeches and the student's laughter came the slamming of the door as a rather large camel walked into the room with its plodding gait, grunted, and let fly a stream of white, foamy sputum that splattered all over the teacher and her two furry companions, who continued on combing through the Divination teacher's hair, heedless of the mess.

There came another shriek from the Mistress, who looked utterly infuriated more than anything else as she screamed at Jacen, who remained in his seat throughout this. "GET OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!"

Fighting the urge to laugh, the young demigod attempted an innocent look. "What did I do? I just proved to you that I could..."

"GET!!! OUT!!!"

He'd fled, reveling in the laughter of the students and the Mistress' raging at them to get her class under control again, making it most of the way down the hallway before he finally broke out into cackling, loud laughter himself.

There'd most likely be hell to pay for that.

For now, he's not thinking about that, just the look on the Divination mistress' face when she'd felt the pair of animals crawling down her legs and out of her skirt from seemingly nowhere.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-03 14:28 EST
Dawn is breaking by the time he makes it back to the dormitory, walking through the halls without bothering to hide. He'd heard whispers that trying to conceal yourself on the school grounds was a great way to attract attention to himself; and besides, he'd always heard it said that the best way to hide is in plain sight, right?

He's almost made it back to his wing when he rounds a corner and nearly collides with a massive wall of blue fur and solid muscle. As he's backing up to get a better view of the dorm warden he hears a snorting sound and feels the outblown huff of air on his head,followed by a growling voice full of suspicion. "You didn't come back to the dorms last night. Where were you, Novice Balthazar?"

Looking up into the massive features of Sartha, he frowns. "I was spending the night with Leda Nyx, if you have to know. Not that it's any business of yours."

The dorm warden glares back down at him, leaning down to put his face right in Jacen's. "My business is keeping tabs on all of the school's charges and to be sure you mind the rules of conduct of the Institute. The next time you will be...entertaining yourself for the night off the grounds, you will leave a notice stating where you will be." Without another word, the dorm warden stomps off with thunderous footfalls.

Jacen snorts, watching the minotaur turn to head around the corner and out of sight. As soon as he is the young demigod snaps a mocking Nazi salute at the retreating figure, turning to head towards Dianthus wing. "Sieg Heil, Hufflepuff."

He has just enough time to register the footfalls stopping before they start coming closer again from around the corner and the minotaur stomps back into view, looking absolutely furious.

Ah, hell, did I say that out loud?

The dorm warden stomps towards him, his growling voice reflecting the rage in his features. "what did you just call me?"

The young demigod backs up as the minotaur approaches. "Er...I didn't say anything, did I...?"

Coming to a halt, the minotaur glares down at him, growling in his throat with each huffing breath, and it's all Jacen can do to keep from laughing, despite the sudden, electric tang of adrenaline and fear running through him. "Funny. I'd swear you just called me...Hufflepuff."

As always seems to be the case, his mouth is in motion before his brain can stop it. "Well, if you heard what I said, why are you asking?"

Big as he may be, the dorm warden is much faster than Jacen had thought, given the lumbering appearance of the beast. One massive hand is almost at his throat when it registers on his brain that it's coming and he jumps.

The sensation is - as always - strange, as for the briefest of moments his mind and body are in two places at once, and suddenly he's behind the dorm warden. "Now wait just a second, Huff...er, I mean..."

With a bellow the minotaur spins, one massive fist outstretched for a backhand blow to the young demigod.

He acts completely on instinct this time, focusing on the cloak he'd left in his room and summoning it to him so it's draped around his figure. As the beast's fist closes on him the cloak's material shifts, from black to a bright, shining silvery-white metal. There's a crunching sound that makes Jacen duck his head as the minotaur's fist impacts the adamantine material, followed immediately by a roar of pain from the dorm warden.

As the cloak shifts back to simple black cloth Jacen moves back again, watching the dorm warden carefully. "As I was going to say, the name wasn't my id-"

Apparently the minotaur is beyond such considerations, and pain seems to make him more enraged, rather than causing him to hesitate. With a berserk roar the dorm warden puts his head down and charges.

Which means it's time to go. There doesn't look like there's going to be much in the way of reason to be found here, and as the minotaur is about to reach him he jumps again, this time appearing just outside the door to his living quarters.

The acoustics of the hallway carry the roars and bellows of rage from the dorm warden at the young demigod's disappearance, and swiftly he ducks into his rooms, shutting the door quietly behind him and hurrying into the safety of his door wards.

Leaning against the wall, listening to the muffled sounds of an enraged minotaur in the distance, he breathes deep, laughing shakily as he slides down the wall to a sitting position.

Mental note: avoid Sartha for...probably the next few years.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-07-04 01:52 EST
~* In the Infirmary *~


?What kind of meeting?? Ashriel asked as he looked up from the bloody gash that marred his patient across the ribs.

Standing on the opposite side of the gurney, Grail Infinity examined the wound as well, taking note of its length and depth, before looking up to meet the inquisitive gaze of the Overseer. ?Are you sure he?s not awake?? The necromancy asked, a sense of concern filling his normally capricious voice.

?Positive.? Ashriel assured him. ?He won?t be up for hours.?

There was a small quiver to Grail?s mien; an odd sight considering who the wizard was. To him it was easily explained, though. He enjoyed the Necromantic side of magic, and, quite frankly, the lacerated shape and form of fresh, vibrant flesh made him sick to his stomach. Had it been a corpse torn asunder then he would have been avidly enthusiastic to get more acquainted with the subject. However, with every subtle breath that filled those still-living lungs, Grail became more nauseous ?Well, Cadence told me that there was a meeting.? He paused, making a face as Ashriel removed some of the gauze surrounding the wound. ?A secret meeting.?

?Go on.?

?Well, secret might be the wrong word. More like ...selective. Seems there were only a particular few who were asked to attend.?

?Who??

?Let?s see. There was Cadence, and Bryn, and Elizabeth. Oh, and that new girl showed up. Patience.?

?Patience Powell??

?That?s her.?

This forged the expression of a quandary across the celestial features of the fallen seraph. Ashriel stroked his chin, a habitual telltale of deep contemplation. ?Why was she there??

?Cadence said she found her on the way to the meeting and just invited her to come. I guess Iameth didn?t really have a problem with it.?

?I?m not surprised.? And he wasn?t. Iameth always had been hard pressed to take issue with women who were beautiful. Ashriel knew the fiend found them to be a delicacy for his more monstrous habits ? namely, eating their flesh. ?What was the meeting about??

?New students. Looks like Iameth wants a more concerted effort put forth into recruiting members for the House. Sounds like he gave them all an assignment; a new student to get to know better in hopes of persuading them to join us.?

Ashriel paused, his large hands filled with blood-stained wraps in need of replacing. He was staring at the Necromancer, who tried his best to shrug away the weight of the look, though found it much harder to do than anticipated.

?We are Viperfang.? Ashriel said, his tone having dropped to a fierce growl. ?We do not recruit.?

Now it was Grail?s turn to stammer. Of all the different things he imaged the Overseer being upset about, that wasn?t one he had considered. ?Then?how do we get more members??

?Does it appear that we are hurting for numbers, Grail? Quality, not quantity. We do not recruit students. They come and ask to be a part of the House. We are the strongest of all the Houses, and because of that we will attract power. It?s what power does. It draws powerful individuals to it.?

?I see.? Grail licked his lips and took a step back, buckling a bit under the stern glower that continued to target him. ?Would you like me to talk to Cadence? Or even the other ladies? I?m sure I could convince them-?

?No.? Ashriel interrupted. ?The last thing we need is to show division amongst the House. If you go and refute Iameth?s orders then it will cause a rift amongst us, leaving members to pick sides and decide who to listen to. I just need to meet with them, to go over their roles. Precisely.?

?I see.? Grail said with a slow nod. He glanced over his slender shoulder to the door and then slowly looked back, forcing a smile. ?So,?when does Cinder get back??

That hard, cold look subsided with a startling suddenness, and from Ashriel?s mouth poured a jovial laugh. ?Not enjoying the role? I can understand it. He?ll return as soon as the Headmistress is done with him. Don?t worry, my friend. It shan?t be long.?

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-07-04 10:02 EST
Nobilis Wing

"It's quieter without her." Eleyna remarked in a rare moment of conversation.

Chika arched a brow at the oddity of such a statement coming from out of nowhere.

"Faetha. It's quieter without Faetha." The regal blonde explained in a chillier tone as she realized she'd initiated the exchange between them and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Yes." It was a simple answer but one that marked at least in attempt to play nice as normally these two rarely engaged in anything resembling socializing.

As she strode from the room, Chika kept her private thoughts to herself. It was quieter without her. And StormSabre had lost a valuable asset. In addition to the volatile and emotionally distraught time-bomb that was Myraddin. Simultaneously GorgonHorn was now without Gotha and as the rumors of the impending Shadow Expedition became known it was evident that the houses were missing other key components.

ViperFang's addition had been Cinder and in the privacy of her own bedroom Chika allowed herself a small pleased grin. As far as she was concerned, there was no real loss there.

Peeling free of her uniform, the Cambion indulged in the grin and allowed it full rein. Faetha and Gotha had been as pliable as flesh. Their intense arrogance provoked and prodded with the true instigator easily disguised.

Accidents had a way of happening in a school of magic and Chika had fully expected one of them to kill the other. Even she hadn't been able to plan the masterful outcome of the chance novitiate's ill-timing. Her death had resulted in the dual expulsion that served ViperFang far better than simply one of their deaths.

Extending her willowy body she draped across her bedding. Perhaps she had ignored this side of her nature for too long. Plotting and intrigue had always irritated her as she saw it for her family's way; yet, she'd been foolish to overlook the benefits of understanding such manipulation.

If she were going to truly succeed at making her family pay she'd need to continue to hone these skills as well as her evocation casting.

The air charged with static electricity, dark strands of hair rose about her piquant face and Chika recognized the return of the still angered Myraddin.

The grieving and angered storm elf hadn't apparently calmed down any since he'd slammed from their suites.

Perhaps it was time to go and see if she could make it any....worse.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-07-04 13:09 EST
{Laurus Wing}


Deft fingers, honed to precision with the casting of intricate spells, worked methodically along the delicious ridges between shoulder-blades, easing the tension that drew them taut. Lavender flesh was malleable beneath her dark digits, conforming to whatever manipulations she saw fit. She had stripped him of his clothing before entering into the endeavor so that her efforts would go unhindered ? which was a boon for both of them in many ways.

?Now that?that is extraordinary, my dear.? The languid purr of Iameth?s dripping voice was a soothing sound, filled with sensual torpor that wafted across the soft shell of listening ears.

Ebonique grinned down at him, and while Iameth?s eyes may have been closed, she knew that he could feel the sharp smile. ?Don?t get too used to it, Overseer. This is certainly not a practice I partake in regularly.?

?Truly? In that case I am honored to be the recipient of this curbed agenda you offer.?

Straddling his hips, the ridiculous shortness of her uniform skirt showing the succulent span of flesh between the tops of her stockings and the draping hem, she leaned forward and drove the heels of her palms into his back, parallel along the spine. It caused him to go stiff for a moment, and this reaction was followed with a small laugh.

?My my, aren?t we vicious?? He teased.

?You?d be wise to ponder my viciousness with seriousness, Overseer. There are many who have ignored it in the past based on what they perceived as reality.?

?And where are these naysayers now? Cowering in a dark corner somewhere, fearful of your return??

?No, Iameth.? Now it was her turn to purr as she bent lithely at the waist, a petal soft and intimately lingering kiss finding the nape of his neck. ?They?re in the ground.?

His sensual lips cambered into a pleased grin and finally the sight of those pupiless eyes were offered. ?Is that right? Are you a killer now, my luscious Rakshasi??

He?d clenched his buttocks in the midst of his question and caused taut flesh to swell against her splayed legs, which in turn delivered a quiver along her parted limbs. He was dark and delectable, truly temptation incarnate. His claws, his fangs, even his twin tongues, they should have scared her ? and anyone else ? away, and yet there she was, tormented by the danger, aching to test its potency.

?I am many things.? She responded. ?Many things that you have not seen.?

?Consider my fires of curiosity stoked by your allusions.?

She rose up, fully stretched as high as she could upon her knees, creating space between their bodies. Her hand fell to his shoulder, the sharp bulb like stone upon her fingertips, and she pulled him across, indicating a turn. He complied lazily, rolling from chest to back with the coiled plasticity of a serpent and peered up at her with an enquiring stare.

She settled, easing her hips back down to cradle the inspiring length of him between her legs. There was a small gasp at his shape, his size, as well as the soothing heat that came with his touch. She swallowed back the cry that sought to pry from her lips, suddenly craving the feel of him inside. She parted her dark eyes to return his regard. ?Do you know Myraddin Numidor??

The tips of those dark tongues slithered forth to moisten his parched lips at the arrival of her weight upon him, and the silken touch of adept fingers came to rest upon her thighs, brushing a soft path between leggings and leg. ?The storm elf?? He appeared contemplative for a moment before nodding. ?I do.?

?Do not fool with me.? She said with a husky laugh, a roll of her hips molding the soft flesh beneath her panties against his turgid swell. ?You know damn well who he is.? The motion continued, slow and methodical. ?Did you know that it was his sister who killed Arabel Hawthorne??

?I had heard rumors.?

That stimulating undulation slowed for a moment as she studied his sinfully handsome features, and when she didn?t find what she expected to be there, she gasped. ?Are you not upset??

His fingertips rose higher upon her legs, delving beneath the hem of her skirt and gathering it along his wrist as he made his way to her hips. ?Why would I be upset? Her suspension weakens Stormsabre, which is good for House Viperfang.?

Again she gasped, though this time it was for other reasons. The chiseled shape of him stroking her womanly length, even through her lingerie, stemmed a rush of excitement that was nearing its culmination. That familiar sense of shuddering release that he so easily elicited inside of her was nearing the brink. Damn the Sorcerer, he hadn?t even gotten her clothes off yet. ?But weren?t you and her sister?close??

His thumbs hooked along the thin strings that kept her panties in place, the claws that adorned them scraping sensually at her dark flesh, pulling at them as though seeking their removal; though their position made the attempt torturously impossible. ?We were.?

?Lovers??

The attempt ceased as his brow quirked, the play at the corner of his lips mockingly mirthful. ?Are you jealous, my dear??

?Hardly.? She moaned, her hands falling to the hard span of his chest for balance as she continued to grind her hips down upon him. ?I just want to know. Did you fuck them??

?I?m not the sort to kiss and tell, sweet one.?

From measured to incessant, her pace quickened with the growing desire that swelled in her belly. How easy it would be to pull her panties to the side and impale herself upon him, stretching open her tight, wet core to swallow his heavy length. She caressed it from tip to base and back again over and over, the silhouette of her aching cleft clearly felt through the damp underwear. She was so close. ?Just tell me.? She whispered through a moan.

Her oncoming elation was easily seen, as well as felt, and her rhythmic ride atop him was fluid and graceful, the shifting expression of her pretty face as it transcended wistful serenity with determined hunger obvious and lovely. ?Very well. Yes, I did. I fucked them. Numerous times. And often.?

Hearing the words, the admission, sent waves of power surging through her limbs and caused her to slam down upon him with a near furious resolve. That ledge of carnal freedom came hurling through her, and with a sharp cry she threw her head back, pert breasts straining beneath the tight and tender hold of her blouse with the gasping breath as straddling thighs clenched around masculine hips to procure the impetus of her orgasm.

He watched her metamorphosis through the eruption, her supple body growing ridged and taut as muscles responded to the starling and potent release. Clenching her hips, holding her firmly upon the elongated shape of his stout shaft, he did little to assist beyond offering the weight of his survey, which in and of itself was an applicable benefit.

With her lithe body wracked and weakened she collapsed forward, falling across the lavender form of her lover. Her cheek fell to his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin, and she panted away the labor of such a powerful zenith.

?Seems you?re becoming quite the coaxer of information.? He smirked, holding her throughout the dying throes of her surrender.

?You have no idea.? She whispered with a soft series of kisses along his defined pectoral. ?I have to tell you about a little encounter I witnessed in Master Smout?n?s chamber involving Myraddin Numidor.?

?Is that so? I?m all ears.?

?Not so fast.? She replied as she pushed up to again loom above him, her palms once more bracing her sinuously upon his chest. ?Get these panties off of me.?

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-04 17:02 EST
Knowing Your Mind
Part One

She'd only been here one week, but already Patty had decided which of her classes bored her the most. Unfortunately, it happened to be the one in which she was sitting right now. Enchantment just didn't appeal to her, despite the master's insistence that one of her most basic needs was an understanding of compulsion magics and how to block them.

At least he wasn't leaning over her this week, she conceded to herself, one hand idly toying with her school tie as she watched him pace back and forth at the far front of the classroom. Her chin resting on her hand, she looked every inch the attentive student ... until you noticed that her eyes were focused on the water-clock by the door, counting down the minutes until she could be released from this boredom to study something she actually enjoyed.

Ten minutes ... five minutes ... three ... one ... Patty was already leaning down to pick up her bag, even as the bell tolled the end of the lesson period.

"And that, dear students, is how you determine the materials you require for... " His finely-chiseled face curled minutely in annoyance at the sound of the bell. "Remember, bring a complete list of material components for this type of wand construction tomorrow." Just before the first student reached the door, he singled one out.

"Novitiate Powell. I'd like a word with you in my office. Please inform your next class that I require your time." This close to the end of the school day, it shouldn't be too much of an issue. Quickly, he scribbled out a note for her to give to said instructor.

Pulled up short by the sound of her own name, Patty halted abruptly by the door, just about managing to hide her groan as she turned to face Master Nil'aiha. Bracing herself against the whole personal issues thing he had going on, she approached him to take the note, hoping like hell her face wasn't burning half as much as it felt to be. "Yes, Master Nil'aiha. I'll be as quick as I can."

Quick as she could turned out to be only a matter of minutes; just long enough to scurry through the hallways to deliver the note to Master Tracha. The Evocation master read the note with a smirk, and sent her on her way with a knowing nod of his head.

By the time Patty reached Nil'aiha's office, the corridors were empty, everyone having disappeared to their various academic commitments moments before. Swallowing hard, she spent a moment adjusting her uniform - smartening her tie, closing the buttons on her blazer, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind her ear - and knocked on the door, feeling as though she was about to attend her own execution.

"Enter." His voice smooth as honeyed silk to the ear, having already made sure that the door was unlocked. Idly, he adjusted a few random papers strewn across the top of his desk as he sat patiently.

Steeling herself against what she expected to be a dressing down for not paying attention, Patty slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She moved to stand in front of the master's desk, nibbling nervously on her lower lip. "You wanted to see me, Master Nil'aiha?"

"Please. Sit." Leaning back in his chair, he drew in a deep breath and sighed, his eyes closing briefly. The rest could wait until she'd made herself comfortable.

"Yes, sir." Slightly nonplussed by the invitation to be comfortable, nonetheless Patty did as she was told, lowering herself onto the chair before the desk. She was so worried about being told off, she didn't even mutter about the shortness of her skirt this time, enduring the chill of cold wood beneath her skin without comment as her knees pressed tightly together, hands folding in her lap.

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-04 17:03 EST
Knowing Your Mind
Part Two

Another quiet sigh, before he glanced downward. "Thank you, Ginger. That will be all, for now." The hint of a smile curled his sensuous mouth as his familiar slid out from beneath the desk, using a finger to wipe the corner of her lips with a faint giggle.

Once she'd departed the room, he turned his full attention to the student seated before him. "It has come to my attention that you ... aren't making quite the progress in this class that we at the Institute expect. Might I inquire why?"

As soon as Patty realised what had been going on under the desk, the effect was quietly spectacular. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, violet eyes opening wide, jaw dropping in shock. He'd been ... with her in the room ... and Ginger ... Oh god, that was awful! Lowering her eyes to her fingers as they twisted about one another, she offered a small shrug in answer to his enquiry. "I've only been here a week, sir."

"According to some of your other teachers, you've made fantastic progress in said week. Except for a few notable exceptions. Namely, this subject." The look of embarassed shock upon her face brought a smile to his, as he steepled his fingers. "I've seen you in class, Miss Powell. Your attention is ... shall we say, lacking. This, I can't allow."

She didn't know what to say to this. Proud that apparently she had impressed some of the teachers, nonetheless she didn't like being told she was lacking in other areas. "I'll try harder, sir," she promised with a quick nod, hoping it wasn't too obvious that the sooner she was away from this one-on-one session with him, the better.

"It's good to hear that. But, perhaps I should give you a ... demonstration. To drive home just why it's so important that you do your absolute best." It's quite subtle, really. The spells he'd laid into the chair weren't swift, but could be quite thorough if left unchecked. A teasing little tendril into the mind, whispering about just how ... warm it was getting.

Even as she nodded obediently, the novice fidgeted on the seat before him, unconsciously unbuttoning her blazer to flap the thick material a couple of times. She assumed there was little airflow in this office to cool her down, and put her discomfort down to her own wariness of being in a room with a man who obviously knew all about his own ... strengths. "A ... a demonstration, sir? What kind of demonstration?"

Once begun, the spell firmed its grip. Don't get up. Relax. Get comfortable. It's so warm. Relax. "What kind of demonstration did you imagine?" It feels so good. Just relax.

Her lips twitched a little, displaying a shy sort of smile that warmed her eyes. "Are you going to glamor me or something?" Noticeably lacking was any title of respect, though not so clear to her as it should have been. But she was relaxing, less tense than she had been in his presence before, assuming this was because he had made no move to discomfort her. "Sir," was added suddenly, even as her legs relaxed their stiff pose, opening a tempting view beneath her skirt.

A smile. The nearly predatory look on his face, studying her through long lashes, deserved a word much more potent than a mere 'smile'. That's it. Don't you feel better? Wouldn't it feel even cooler without all that cumbersome cloth, holding in all this heat? It's safe here. You're safe here. Who's to know? "And if I was to... glamor you. Just how would I go about it? Think of this as... a test." The next stage of spellcraft was just as subtle, just as insidious. An urge to... touch. Like an itch, just starting under the skin.

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-04 17:05 EST
Knowing Your Mind
Part Three

The creep of the master's spellcraft was impossible for Patience's unprotected mind to resist; so slow, so coaxing, that she didn't even realise she was under the influence. "Er ... well, sir, you'd ..." She frowned, unable to concentrate on the spell that she knew off by heart, swallowing as her skin flushed uncomfortably hot. "Sir, do you mind if I take off my blazer? It really is kinda hot in here." Even as she asked, her fingers twitched in answer to the next part of the spell, her toes curling as she resisted that urge to the best of her ability, not forgetting where she was in the slightest.

"Go ahead. And go on." That's right. Be comfortable. You wouldn't want to start sweating in front of him, would you? Resting his chin on his thumbs, eyes watching her as she fidgeted. All the while, that urge grew in strength. And then, the third stage. Like the touch of a cool breeze, only coming to rest upon bare flesh. Like a tantalizing carrot of relief, just out of reach.

Relieved, she shrugged out of the blazer, revealing that her shirt sleeves were already rolled to her elbows. Evidently Patty did not get on very well with wearing a full uniform. She shifted back on the chair, one knee crossing over the other to squeeze tightly together, absently unaware that her fingertips were stroking innocently against the line of her neck as she turned her attention back toward the question in hand. "It would all depend on the glamor you intended to place, sir."

"Mmm, yes, it would. But what's the first thing... that comes to mind?" His voice pitched rather low as he answered; soft, and soothing to the ear. Isn't that better? Don't you feel that breeze? Wouldn't you like to feel more of it? On, and on, just under the level of consciousness, sinking deeper into her mind, while his eyes slowly roamed over her.

"It's, uh ..." She hestitated, her fingers flattening to rub her palm nervously against the side of her neck, under the hang of her hair. Without seeking permission, she undid her tie, undoing the top button of her shirt as she spoke. "A glamor on looks is supposedly the easiest," she managed to say, trying hard now not to stare at the master. Part of her mind was wondering where Jerry was, hoping he was free this period. "All you need is a piece of someone's hair or nail to be able to look exactly like them."

"In that aspect, you're correct. But go on. You're on the right track... " Always soothing, that voice of his. The longer she sat there, the deeper his spells worked, making her even more succeptible.

"Where I come from, some people are born with the ability to Glamor without needing a spell," she heard herself explaining. Patty couldn't quite feel what was happening. It was as though a a haze had fallen on her conscious mind; she could answer his questions easily, but something else was fogging at her, making her unaware of the gentle shift of her hands as she answered the urge to be cooler. Without quite realising it, she had undone the buttons of her shirt, letting it hang open, revealing the gentle swell of her virginal flesh encased in pink lace. "Others use spells, or even potions, to achieve the same effect."

"Very good. Now, how would you defend against such a glamor?" Carefully, he kept his eyes from taking in that sight directly. Calling attention to her state would only confuse her.

She bit her lip, whitening the pinkness of her mouth with the force of that bite. "Again, there are spells or potions that can be used," she answered, unnaturally calm despite her state of undress. Her fingertips had returned to the gentle flush of her skin, unconsiously aware of the faint sheen of sweat that decorated her body as her shoulders shrugged the shirt down her arms. "An All-Seeing spell would work, or a Truth-sight potion."

"And do you know such a spell, off-hand?" Beneath his clothing, his own flesh rippled with anticipation, though he kept his expression quite carefully neutral. With the flick of a finger, he triggered the fourth, and final stage. Just what was she feeling under there? Wasn't it interesting?

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-04 17:06 EST
Knowing Your Mind
Part Four

Quite suddenly, a low moan escaped her lips as the last part of his spell made itself known to her subconscious mind, enflaming her unpractised body with sudden heat. Her crossed legs clenched tightly together, pressing against the source of that electrifying arousal as she wet her lips, swallowing to answer. "N-not ... not off the top of my head ... sir ..." The title, formally so respectful, was nothing less than an unconscious plea, half-breathed as her violet eyes darkened with unaccustomed lust.

"That is what makes this class so ... vital. So that you learn these things. Now," He rose, tucking the length of exposed flesh away as he circled the desk, taking a seat rakishly on the edge, and gazing down upon her, "what other glamors do you know of?"

Her eyelids fluttered, longing to close, to let her savour the thrill of the feelings coursing through her body, but forced to stay open by the arresting sight of Master Nil'aiha taking a seat at the edge of his own desk, close enough to touch. Her gaze slid traitorously down over his form, guided by the influence of the spell, and she tensed, laying her hands firmly down on the edges of her own seat as she shifted once more. "There are glamors for all sorts of things, sir," she answered, her gaze snapping back to his face. "To make someone desireable, or repulsive; to disguise yourself; or even just to make yourself more popular."

"And do you possess knowledge of any glamors for your own ... personal use?" His brow rising as he struck a pose, making the movement seem unintentional.

"P-personal use, sir?" Her head tilted upward, garnering for herself a better look as he displayed himself for her pleasure, unconscious of the twitch of her legs as the sight sent a jolt to her core. Some part of her was protesting, pointing out as loudly as it could that it was Jerry she should be feeling this sort of thing for, but the fog that clouded her mind wouldn't let her listen.

Ever so slowly, his features... shifted. Not very noticeable at first, but with each passing moment, the chameleon's face looked more and more like the image her mind wanted to fixate upon. "Yes, personal use. Don't you have any glamors in your spellbook?" Touch. Feel. Tingle. Heat. Relief. A veritable kaleidoscope of sensations worming their way into her subconscious.

The violet of her eyes could almost be mistaken for deep purple now, clouded with lust and desire as she stared up at him. Despite knowing deep down that it could not be so, she saw Jerry standing before her with that wicked look on his face, and she responded so strongly it surprised her. Rising from her chair, she let her shirt drop to the floor, hands reaching to touch tentative fingers to his stomach as she stepped close. "In my world, it's against the rules to use magic for personal gain."

Almost of their own accord, the buttons of his shirt parted beneath her touch. "And what use isn't for personal gain? Even the altruistic seek to gain something ... recognition, admiration ... they won't admit it out of hand, but you'd find them hard pressed to deny such things. So, what would you use a glamor for? If you had one, of course."

"I ... oh ..." A soft sigh left her lips as her fingers found warm, firm flesh, encouraged by that sensation to step ever closer, until she was leaning into him, mouth uplifted, begging for the kiss she daren't demand. Had it been any face but Jerry's she'd seen before her, by now Patty might have shaken off the compulsion, but her suppressed desires were doing the unconscious thinking here. "I've never ... never thought about it."

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-04 17:08 EST
Knowing Your Mind
Part Five

Gently, the tip of a single finger traced a slow path up the ridge of her spine. His voice dropping to a low whisper as he bent his head down, inch by slow inch, letting the caress of his breath dance across her lips. "Then ... think about it."

Odd, how even the brush of his fingertip over the ugly raised mark of her cursed scar didn't bring her to her senses, even for a moment. If she'd stopped to consider that, Patty might have realised something was wrong. As it was, she simply shivered, rising on her toes to taste his breath on her lips. "Jerry ..."

And, just like that, his features snapped back to his own, though the spells he'd set into place intensified. Trailing that finger back up to run along her jawline, he eased himself behind the desk once again. "And now you see, Novitiate Powell, precisely the reason why your attention in this class is so... vital. I expect your ... full participation from this moment forth. Am I clear?"

She moaned, the sound full and rich from her throat, her body trembling with need as the master's spell intensified. But suddenly, it wasn't Jerry she was offering herself so brazenly to, and shocked humiliation was there, warring with the enflamed desire that had built up inside her. Eyes wide with alarm and embarrassment, Patty scrambled to snatch up her shirt and blazer, pulling them back on as quickly as she could. "I ... yes, sir, I see," she nodded, resentment colouring her tone as she watched her fingers doing up those buttons as fast as was humanly possible. If only she dared to slap him ... but he was a master, and she needed her place in this school.

"I do not mean to embarass you, Miss Powell." Bullshit. And by the look in his eye, he knew it. "However, you now see just how ... vulnerable you are to such things. It is for your own good that you learn, and quickly." Unfortunately for her, the spells he'd placed only eased into quiescence in the face of her withheld rage, and didn't not fade completely. Until she learned the proper defense, they would remain. My, but what interesting dreams were in store for the hapless student. "If you feel the need for tutoring ... my office is always open to you."

A simple explanation would have sufficed, she thought petulantly, but figured that if this particular teacher's reputation was anything to go by, she was lucky to have only stripped off her shirt. It was a relief to feel those unaccustomed desires fade, if not disappear entirely, offering her a reprieve from the heat that had almost consumed her. And ashamed though she was to admit it, even to herself, the offer of further tutoring was more enticing than repulsive. She bit her lip again, tightening her tie. "Thank you for the lesson, sir. I'll try harder next time."

"Please do. And remember. You aren't in your world, here." Taking a seat, he nodded, the door creaking open to allow her to escape. As soon as he took a seat, the other door opened, and his familiar reentered, gracing the student with a knowing look.

Patience nodded again, the movement jerky, untutored. Hearing the creak of the door, she turned that way without taking her leave, and froze beneath Ginger's knowing gaze. With a dark flush painting her cheeks, Patty fled the office with the familiar's laughter ringing in her ears, resolved now never to let herself be caught not paying attention ever again.

((Many, many thanks to Esteban's player for slipping into Nil'aiha's skin for me!))

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-07-07 20:37 EST
Chamber Epazote


Margot had no need to look toward the door to know that it was her roommate who had returned. Besides, the energy it would take to do so just might have proven to be too much. Draped across the divan in the dark corner of the room she remained unmoving despite her recognition of Mystri's nearly silent arrival. Even with her preternatural ability to prowl on soft steps there were far too many signals that the vampiress had the ability to pick up on: from her delicious scent, to the erotic tempo of her heartbeat.

Morosely she stared at the ceiling and waited for the customary dismissal to take place. For the one thing that these two new roommates shared in spades was their disdain for Margot.


~~~~~~~~

The shapeshifter's ability to remain unnoticed had resulted in a surprising wealth of information this day. Mulling over her own reaction to the breakup of Albion and Quillyan was taking up a large portion of her attention so it came as some shock to realize that she was not alone. Margot's scent, when it finally arrived to tickle across her senses, was not nearly as potent as other undead that she'd encountered, but it still remained an unsettling testament to her lack of life.

"Do you ever get out for anything other than class?" Mystri snarled, directing some of her unrest toward her new roommate.

"No." Came the whispering reply, "Not if I can help it."

Prowling toward that dark corner, Mystri's mint blue eyes lost color as the pupils enlarged to allow in as much light as possible. Looking down at the dejected length of Margot she asked with all the tenderness of an impalement, "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm hungry." Margot hissed back with a very rarely seen heat, though she never turned from her focused examination of the ceiling. "And I'm me."

Mystri snorted as she turned her back on the wasted flesh, "Yea, if I were you I'd hate myself too."

As the door to the bathroom closed on her departing form, Margot's ruined lips formed words she didn't expect her to hear, discounting the keen senses of the other girl, "You have no idea."

As Mystri turned on the shower she felt a rare twinge of pity that was quickly and ruthlessly squashed within moments of its birthing. "Get over yourself, Margot. You're not nearly as bad as you'd like to think you are--" The words cut off as she recognized a split second too late that she was no longer alone. Bands of steel cut off her breath as a pale stick of an arm twined around her throat and another crushed into her ribs. With her head yanked to the side she felt the graze of fangs on the exposed flesh of her throat and felt the implacable coldness of the undead's glamor descend upon her senses. In the cloying impenetrable darkness Mystri began to shift but the racing fear that gripped her heart warned her that it would be too late.

Margot whispered, "I'm far worse than anybody ever realizes."

And between one breath and the next she was quite simply gone. Gasping for air Mystri blinked back the rare sting of tears as she nearly fell into the shower. Gripping a hand on the rim of the tub she felt, too late, the explosion of her temper that might've given her an edge in their confrontation. Whirling about she was shifting as she moved, scales coating her flesh, fangs lengthening and talons gleaming as she growled her rage, "I'll kill you for that you bitch!"

But the room was empty and even that warm rush of anger could not conceal the realization that had Margot wanted to...Mystri would've been her dish for the evening.

Elkinid Qualn

Date: 2011-07-09 14:55 EST
{Chamber Betony}


?I don?t get it.?

Elkinid?s laugh was a bit louder than he intended, which was capitalized by the closing of the book they studied. ?It?s just a theory I?m working on for my Sorcerer ascension. Divine Dual existence theory is what I call it.?

Violette Rousseau flopped back amidst the sea of rippling blankets, the shift along the mattress causing pillows to cave in all around her tawny-haired head. ?I hate the duels. It?s so?sweaty.?

?Not duel.? He said as he stood from the table just a few feet away. ?Dual.? Realizing his faux pas, he waved off the correction. ?Never mind.?

?Kiiinnniiidddd?? She mewled as she wrapped herself fully in those swarming sheets, turning over onto her elbows to watch him replace the book in its spot upon the shelf. ?Why aren?t you in this bed??

He paused, his keen drow eyes focused on the spine of the book. He?d spent plenty of the past hours occupying that bed with her, and to do so further would waste even more of the precious day. ?We might want to consider something other than?that.?

Struck, she swept strands of her chaotic flaxen hair from her eyes before simply asking. ?Why??

Again he laughed, though this one was a much lower register. ?The drow have a saying. Gaer zhah nau iiyola mzild ritzeld taga xund.? He turned and looked back at her, a thin white brow arched high above one glowing eye. ?Do you know what it means??

Lost, she shook her head.

?It explains the value of effort.? He departed from the bookshelf and returned to the table, drawing his uniform shirt from the back of the chair he had sat within. Spearing slender arms through the sleeves, he brought the garment over his shoulders to drape lazy upon his slender frame. ?A lesson you might benefit from.?

?Do you intend to teach me this?benefit??

Her tone dipped into something far more suggestive than just rudimentary academia, though Elkinid did not bite. He stayed put. ?I?m not sure you?d be a capable student.?

Violette gasped and rose to her knees, letting those silken sheets pour from her youthful body. Naked and bold, she hardened her gaze through the smiling of her luscious Rousseau lips. ?I think I?ve proven time and time again exactly how capable I am of learning new things, Master Drow.?

?Yllui?th.?

She smirked. ?That?s what I thought.?

With his foot, Elkinid scooped his slacks from the floor and donned them as luminescent eyes of crimson scoured the room for his socks, belt, and shoes. ?I have to get going. Mistress Vadten is awaiting me. She wants to hear more about my theory.?

?Mistress Vadten?? She pouted, collapsing back against the swarm of sheets once more, though her head came back up rather quickly. ?Did you see what happened between her and Jacen Balthazar? That was hilarious!?

With socks seized and administered he gathered up his waist coat and draped it across his for forearm, freeing up slender fingers to work the half dozen buttons of his shirt. Lips cambered slightly. ?Xas, hilarious.?

?Can you imagine doing that to a teacher? Like Master Smout?n or Menolymus? They would go bananas!? Her head fell back as she giggled, staring up at the ceiling. ?Do you think he?ll be punished or anything??

Thanks to her recline she was unable to see Elkinid?s knowing smirk as he stepped into his shoes. ?Oh, I think he already has.?


__________________________________________________ ______________

{Divination Chamber - Two days earlier}


?I?m on to you.? Elkinid said in a tone commingled in accusation and mirth. ?And don?t think for a moment that I?m not.?

The Vistani Mistress of Divination looked up from the podium in the center of her chamber, her grey-green eyes catching the touch of the dim candlelight with mysterious hue. Lips parted in greeting to the Mage who addressed her. ?On to me? How so??

He moved from the door and slowly made his way toward her, each step a methodical extension of slender limbs, as though he expected at any moment for the floor to drop out. ?Your exchange with Novitiate Balthazar. The camel and so forth. It was an act, wasn?t it? A ruse.?

While an adept practitioner of arcana, Depha Roksana Vadten was a terrible actress. She was aware of this flaw, though, and before stumbling down the path of theatric deception she instead rested her elbows upon the stand and smiled. ?It was.?

He moved to where she lingered, keeping the podium between them as he surveyed her expression. ?Why??

?Need a Mistress explain herself to a Mage?? She quipped spiritedly.

?Of course not. I just can?t seem to understand why you would go through with such a flaring display. I?ve attended many of your classes and seminars over the past few years and have never seen such a show before.?

Fesha, the flaming sphere of energy that was her familiar, drifted across the room from a door near the back of the class and hovered above her right shoulder. With a glance there a sense of silent communion, and then slowly the creature departed. She looked back at her student. ?Mage Qualn, I have done this for a very long time, and in that time I have had a variety of students. I?ve taught novices and demoralized masters, all in a single day. Of them all, however, there is a certain assortment that leaves a distinct trail of mischief and chaos that is able to send a class such as mine into upheaval.?

?Oh??

?Half-gods. Or Demi-gods. Or God-children. Or whatever other name they have. Capricious and disorderly, always looking to prove someone wrong, stir the pot, or be a general nuisance; they all seem to be sculpted of the same mold. Novitiate Balthazar appears to be no different.?

?And you know this for certain.?

Her laugh was rich and warm. ?Are we not Diviners, Mage Qualn? It is our talent to?know.?

?So you knew about the monkey? The mongoose??

?I did.?

?So why didn?t you stop him? No offense, Mistress, but you did look a bit foolish in the end.?

She considered it for a moment before offering a gentle shrug of sloped shoulders. ?To stop him would have only inspired future mischief, Elkinid. Had I shown him the power of Divination then he would have sought to prove me wrong at every upcoming turn. Instead, I allowed his moment of amusement and filled the role of enraged teacher, which gave me a reason to expel him from my class. It will be quite hard for him to achieve ascension without my consent, and even harder for him to pass my class without permission to enter it.?

?So even though you knew his actions would be detrimental you permitted them??

?Detrimental to me short term, perhaps. But to go unchallenged for him would be even more so. Much like every other upstart who comes traipsing through these halls, Novitiate Balthazar will need to be taught the value of instruction. The best way to show that value is to let him see what he doesn?t have access to by acting in such a manner.?

Elven lips drew into a slashing grin. ?No punishment for punishment?s sake, Mistress? Is it always a lesson??

Her smile was more sincere and less sardonic. ?Always.?

He turned and started away for the door, the click of his walking stick carrying well beyond the silence of his steps.

?Mage Qualn.? She said just as he got to the portal.

?Xas??

?What gave me away?? She paused through the expected expression of his confusion and then added. ?You said that you were on to me when you arrived. What gave me away? What led you to become ?on to me???

He didn?t turn completely back to face her, casting a glowing glance over his shoulder. The grin was still firmly in place. ?It?s quite simple, actually. During your confrontation with Novitiate Balthazar you asked his name. I?ve been a part of your class for many years, Mistress, and in that time I?ve never heard you ask anyone?s name.? He again resumed his stride through the door. ?As you said: We are Diviners, it is our talent to?know.?

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-10 15:25 EST
Daydreams and Nightmares: Part 1

He's managed - only just - to avoid the dorm warden for the past few days. His first, best talent has always been spatial displacement of varying kinds, perhaps because it was the first talent he had discovered in himself, but also because he understands a few things about the universe that most do not have an inkling of - perhaps simply because their educations had never required it.

Too many things he had read, in his self-taught education, required rituals of varying kinds, for whatever reasons - to satisfy an invoked spirit, perhaps, or else to focus power, or maybe just to entertain the author, who might want to see what foolishness he could make people attempt in their efforts to work the mystical arts.

None of it had appealed to him, really. He had started into reading books on the subject of the paranormal after that first episode that had sent him four miles away from his home, mostly curious and wishing to know how such things worked.

None of the new age crap he had found in the local bookstores had been up to snuff, in his opinion - a lot of it had seemed like a lot of window dressing for desperate housewives looking to practice a little kitchen magic, in hopes that they might improve their love life, or create a bit of mischief for their own amusement on the woman they suspected of blowing their husband when he was working late at the office.

He'd looked into more esoteric things after discarding the worthless trash most called 'educational material' and found himself researching things he could relate better to. Science and mathematics, especially, seemed to offer more plausible explanations to him, and he'd focused on these in school. His favorite course had been physics, in part thanks to the teacher, who had somehow immediately seen how to push his young student to his best - by challenging him, constantly forcing him to excel in different ways.

And along with this he began looking into old legends of times long past, esoteric wanderings in old libraries that held tales of ancient beginnings and heroes, and of rituals performed by societies that still, it was said, had power.

And did they ever. The old ones, who had come before, had known this secret, that magic and science, arcana and mathematics, had a certain commonality, patterns that fit in with each other, were interchangeable, even.

All the while he sought to control the power he'd already discovered, the ability to teleport. He'd read a book once that referred to it a jumping, which he thought was more apt - every time he did it, the sensation that seemed to trigger it was very like jumping in action.

All the while he's making notations absently in his spellbook, though none of it seems to follow the lecturing of Smout'n, the Necromancy master, as he stalks around the room, going on about the importance of self-control while practicing the art and craft of the darkest of magics, blah, blah, blah.

He does find the subject interesting ? he is his father?s son, after all, and he knows a thing or two of his own by virtue of that heritage - if virtue could ever be applied to a man who ruled and sat in judgment over the lost legion of the shades of the dead.

He's never been one for listening to lectures, really - he'd always been, in school, the kid in the back of the class, drowsing as the teacher droned on, and yet still somehow seeming to absorb the information with sufficient cognition that he still aced his assignments, handing them in with a bored yawn, most times.

As if to say, 'Give me a real challenge.'

There had been the duel earlier in the week, and that, perhaps, had started a trend. His opponent had been called Skee, or Rachael, by the caller, alternately. And he had, much to his own surprise, made a good standing for himself, even if he had lost. Not for the school, though he supposed he could allow some credit to them, no matter how small - he had been in uniform as he dueled, after all.

He doesn't like losing, to be truthful, but it had rankled a lot less to know that he, a mere novice student, had given the Keeper of Air a run for her money.

Well, not so mere a novice. But it had been the first time he had attempted to duel with magic, and he had managed to surprise himself...not just with his standing (until the end, at least, when he had been thrown from the raft he was standing on into the water), but with the almost immediate desire to come back...once he had learned a few things.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-10 15:27 EST
Daydreams and Nightmares: Part 2

This had all started seeming like a punishment...a prison. A way to keep him from being captured by some shadowy figures that sounded, even coming from a god, like the lunatic ravings of a conspiracy nut. He'd even been tailed by his uncle...or was it cousin? In a way, he supposed, both could apply. That big oaf had failed to keep up with him for more than a week, and from then on...

...well. Then he ended up here. It's true, what they say - one trouble with trouble is that it usually starts out like fun.

Since the duel he'd been paying a bit more attention, though he still hates lecturing. He does try not to get the glazed, glassed-over look that would be instantly identified by any competent instructor as that of a student whose brain is on autopilot.

Apparently, today he's been less successful than others, or maybe the Necromancy master is more attentive than his fellow teachers. The sound of his name pulls him from his musings, and he comes to the here and now to find the class staring his way, and for good reason - Smout'n himself stands over him like a shadow of Doom, an expression of amused contempt written on his features.

"If you're not going to pay attention in my class, Novice, you will very likely end up taking a trip to see your father, in a very different way than you might enjoy. I can imagine that you shall have no choice but to be made to listen then."

The comment gets a mixture of confused looks and soft laughter from the other students, more than a few who seem eager to see Jacen suffer some kind of punishment for his slip with Sartha. Now that the big bull knew about the joke going on behind his back, the humorless dorm warden seemed to be lurking around every corner, just looking for a reason to pounce on someone.

Even caught unawares, his mouth kicks right into gear, without so much as a pause for thought. "I'm sorry...was that supposed to be some kind of threat? Did you want me to say 'hi' to him for you or something while I'm there? I mean, I'm pretty sure he appreciates the attention and all...he doesn't have too many fans."

Most of the class looks rather confused at this - but then, he hasn't let it slip to many the identity of his old man. How exactly do you say that in a social setting? 'Yeah, my dad's the ruler of the underworld' goes over really well with the ladies.

The looming shape of the Necromancy master moves to turn away, though to the young demigod's eye there is perhaps a passing shadow of a smile seen on those stern features for a moment. "Such wit. I'm sure, then, that you won't mind giving us a demonstration to show just why you feel you don't need to be paying attention along with the rest of us?"

For a long moment he simply stares at the Necromancy master. Is he serious? The young demigod thinks so - this teacher looks way too intense to joke around much about anything, unfortunately.

With a shrug he opens the spellbook to a different page and pulls a blank sheet of paper from it. Not pulling the page from the book, but rather a perfectly blank sheet of paper that slips from the page as though it had simply been held between the pages. Setting it on his desk, his hand moves swift and surely over it, sketching lines, writing in arcane lettering and odd, exoteric formulae that looks vaguely mathematical. When he's done there's a light sketching of a pentagram, candles at the corners, enclosed in a double circle with a bowl in the middle of some unnamable composition and contents.

He's well aware that you need to focus for this sort of thing - he'd learned that lesson the first time he'd made an attempt, and it had left its impression on him in a way more lasting than mere memory. As he sketches, he turns his focus to the task at hand, tuning out the eyes on him, the looks of confusion and contempt and amusement.

Presently he stands, heading for the door leading to the graveyard, taking the sheet of paper with him. Not a glance is given to any of the students or the master as he goes. Pushing the door open, he walks out amongst the graves until he finds an open place that he feels is large enough. The piece of paper in his grasp is crumpled into a ball.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-10 15:29 EST
Daydreams and Nightmares: Part 3

He senses the presence of the Necromancy master watching him from nearby, along with a few of the more courageous students. The rest he can sense/feel watching from the windows as he brings the piece of paper to his lips, speaking to it in a voice that is unlike his usual mid-range, rather sarcastically amused tone - this is a voice that rolls like thunder, deep and slow.

"Πάρτε τη θέση σας."

With a flick of his wrist he tosses the ball of paper into the clearing. On its downward arc, as gravity makes its irresistible claim, the paper flickers with flame, igniting in a sudden burst. By the time it hits the ground the paper is a small ball of fire, and from this point spreads lines of flame, tracing out the pattern of an encircled pentagram. At the points of the star, springing seemingly from nowhere, are candles resting in shallow bowls of water, their flames flickering alight. Around this a circle of common salt seems to pour itself out of thin air to surround the whole arrangement.

One of the students behind him lets out an involuntary whistle of amazement, getting a sharp look from the Necromancy master which brings him to silence as Jacen steps into the circle.

The energy within the circle is focused, charged, but neither good nor evil - as with all things, the young demigod's discovered, it's all a matter of one's perspective, perception and focus. And lately his has gotten a bit better, despite what some of his teachers may think.

That same low, rolling thunder of a voice comes from him as he speaks again in the same language, though now there's a note in it that makes the ears hurt and stomachs turn, just a bit. As he speaks he closes his eyes, tilting his head back and raising his arms in the classical evocation pose, speaking:

"Έλα σε μένα, μπορείτε εγκατέλε ψες νεκρός
Οι ξεχάσει και που θέλουν
Για τον κόσμο των ζωντανών
Για να τις λάβει ειδοποίη
Κοπάδι σε μένα και θα σας δώσω απελευθέρωση."

As he speaks the day, already overcast and grey, darkens further, light dimming save for the flames of Jacen's conjured circle, which stand out brighter by contrast. The ground vibrates beneath their feet and from somewhere comes a low, bone-shaking hum that trembles the very air. From all sides a faint mist rolls in to surround the circle, which is kept clear, and a moment later from this mist rise dark shapes.

Dark, wraithlike shapes, tattered and ragged-looking at the edges, with eyes that gleam a dark ruby red from the depths of the shadows they are made of. From them comes a series of hissing sounds that seem to chill the air with every syllable they utter, and among the less seasoned or willful of the students gathered there would be felt an undercurrent of fear just from seeing them.

The specters gather at the edge of the circle, watching the one that summoned them with their bloodred eyes, waiting on his bidding. As the young demigod looks down and opens his eyes, there can be seen in them a hint of that same crimson glow, though when he meets the eyes of the necromancy teacher, the grin is pure Jacen arrogance, as if to say, "Is this good enough for you?"

Smout'n, for his part, has a smile that is equal parts amusement and interest. His only response is an approving nod as the flames of the circle die away, but the specters surrounding the young demigod - a half-dozen in all - remain, so still they could be shadows themselves but for the gleaming ruby eyes. The master's voice, however, has an undertone of challenge in it as he speaks again in that deadened voice of his. "Now dispel them."

At the word dispel, the shadowy figures suddenly change their focus, the eyes gleaming brighter as they suddenly begin moving towards the instructor and the few students remaining with him. The air begins to grow colder, breath becoming white plumes from the small group. The students fall back a step, but Smout'n stands firm, his eyes not on the advancing specters, but Jacen himself, who has a rather vacant smile on his face, almost looking like he's confused as to why he should dispel the wraithlike figures who continue to advance, shadowy clawed hands outstretched towards the terrified students.

"Balthazar! Dispel them! NOW!" The Necromancy master's voice rolls out of him with undeniable authority, shaking the young demigod out of his daze.

With a wave of his arm, Jacen speaks again in that thunderous, rolling voice. "Επιστροφή στον ύπνο, από όπου ήρθατε."

As the closest are about to reach the teacher, all six forms burst into smoke, black and smelling vaguely of rot and death, of rain-soaked earth, fire and the sharp smell of ozone. It quickly dissipates to reveal Smout'n standing just where he was, the students taking to their heels back towards the classroom as if the dark shadowy shapes were still on their heels.

The master eyes the young demigod, who is stepping out of the circle, looking quite smugly amused himself, until the teacher speaks. "You thought that was very funny, didn't you, young Balthazar? I will grant you have talent, but there is something you should remember in your practice, if you are to succeed with me: a necromancer should be like a surgeon. Dedicated, focused, skillful, with the will to make hard decisions, but - perhaps most importantly - without empathy for the souls under his keeping. Mind your intentions, Novice, when practicing the art, lest the master become the slave."

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-07-10 19:35 EST
{Listeria Wing}

Hearing Gina kiss up to Veronique after running her mouth with Benedykt was ?

Annoying?

The self-absorbed prattle was slowing getting on the Carpathian?s last nerve. Veronique was lapping it up like a kitten and a bowl of sweet cr?me. She wanted to filet them both. Easier said than done in the case of the sorceress. Though Gina was a constant pain in her netherquarters. The jealous little bitch did not know when to quit and when you were focusing on a mage with the blood of a powerful sorcerer in her veins?

Of course, she did not reveal the chamber beneath her sleeping chambers; the patch of earth there where she truly rested. It would not do for the catty little apprentice to know her weaknesses.

She was different enough from the others. She was of Carpathian descent. Even her name was not her own? Tavitian. She had been adopted to protect her from her father and the wizard Xavier. Her birthmark hidden well and her power locked down until she was old enough to be brought into their world fully. But a mistake was made and her foster parents murdered by a vampire.

The hunters came and rescued the young Dragonseeker, instead bringing her to a school where she could learn how to control the gifts that were her birthright. She knew she was different. Her classes built as though she was one of the undead, yet she was not. Mistakes were made, those blocks came tumbling down and her powers roared to life, much like the namesake of her bloodline.

There was an explosion of dirt as she burst out of the soil that was her bed. A moment later a second burst comes through and her wolf was at her side. She knelt down to wrap her arms around that furred neck, grateful for the one that cared without reservations. She knew she was no more than a plaything to Overseer Iameth. She took what she could get, while learning. But they would never reach her heart?

Every Carpathian had a lifemate somewhere?

? Some just never find them in time.

http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/33836092/id/niglPEqr4BGmBShmq2kGnw/size/e.jpg

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-07-10 20:38 EST
??and then what?? Zhennavieve asked as she leaned in to smell the sweet aroma of the crape myrtle.

Uziya arched a brow as he watched her, lips supplanted with a spirited grin. ?Authentic enough for you??

She rose up demurely and cast the apprentice a playfully incredulous look. ?The art of illusion, Uziya, is not drawing attention to the distinction of what is real and what isn?t, but allowing it to pass unnoticed. The flowers smell magnifiques. Now walk with me.?

She curled her arm around his and drew him down the stone walkway. Hyde Park had always been one of her favorite places to visit back before being blessed with the dark gift, and apparently Uziya had paid attention to some of their conversations regarding her past as he had recreated the locale with uncanny precision. A cloudless day; the sun was brilliant and warm, with a subtle breeze that lazily caused the low hanging canopy of elder willow trees to sway gently. It was perfect.

?I?m not sure I?m a fan of the waistcoat.? Uziya remarked, glancing from a pair of passing gentlemen down to his own attire. ?It?s a bit stuffy.?

She laughed, drawing tighter to him and melding the supple curves of her form sinuously against his side. ?Again, Monsieur Grazuul, you are dissolving the ambiance. A Victorian gentleman gave little notice to the discomfort of des v?tements. He simply wore them. To complain would seem?douce.? She turned lovely eyes up to him, pearly fangs peeking through ruby lips. ??soft.?

His gaze, glossed with amusement, found hers and held it. ?Well, I?d hate to come off as some sort of softy.?

?Is that so? Are you the tough guy??

?The ?tough guy?? He laughed. ?I think you mean a tough guy. I?m pretty sure there is more than one.?

?You know what I mean.? She followed suit, her parasol casting a devious shadow about her alabaster features. ?Granted, the thought of there being more than one of you is simply absurd.?

?Is that right? Am I one of a kind??

Her eyes fell away, nearly shy in their descent to the perfect squares that composed the narrow walkway. ?You are certainly unique.?

?Oh I know.? He said as he turned to face her, the arm that she held sliding away so that he could grasp her small hands within his much larger ones. He stared down at her, a knowing look of ridicule plastered across his handsome visage. ?That?s why you keep having me create this sort of scenery. I know you try to hide it under the pretense of education, but let?s be honest: it?s not like you?re having other students do the same.?

She challenged his expression with one of doubtful sarcasm. ?My, my, Monsieur, it seems that you are taking our little rendezvous out of context.?

He took a step forward, the minute space between them now closed completely. The broad span of his chest grazed the succulent swell of her bodies, and while her vampirism kept him from tasting her breath ? the need to breathe unnecessary ? he was certain that she could taste his with the closeness of their lips. ?I don?t think I?m taking anything out of context?? He whispered. ??in fact, I'm pretty sure that there is only one thing that I should be?taking.?

Her lips parted to speak, with a slight tilt of her graceful neck nearly brushing them across his awaiting mouth. ?Is that what you want to do, Uziya? Take something? Or someone??

His grasp slid from her thin fingers to ride up the inside of her arms, a tender tickle on his way to taking her around the waist. Her hips felt delicious in his hands, curvy and taut, perfect for holding. ?And if I do? What would you say?? Lips crafted words with a motion that touched hers; the only thing keeping it from being a kiss was actual commitment to the affection.

Her head tilted a bit more to claim a better angle. ?Then I would say??

?Ma fleur noire.?

The foreign voice startled them both, yanking them away just seconds before tongues and lips fully caressed.

The owner of it stood not far away, just a few feet really, and looked upon them with hard eyes of tranquil hue, his thick, chocolate colored hair drawn back in a sweeping wave that retreated sleekly from the hair line. He had yet to even glance at Uziya, his undivided attention leveled upon Mistress LaCroix.

?Tutori!? She sang is name as though having longed for the sound of it and slid away from Uziya, the quick shift of slender legs beneath her gown causing it to rustle smoothly. She did not hesitate when she arrived, coiling her arms about his neck and drawing against him in a deeply intimate hug. The man?s arms came around her in return, one resting between her shoulder blades and the other finding the small of her back.

It was in that moment that he finally inclined his gaze to meet the crimson eyed Illusionist; his docile features cracking a bit beneath the shape of a victorious smirk.

Uziya merely stood as though paralyzed, caught in the frenzy of passing seconds and moving pieces, and because of this all the work he had done forging the precise semblance of Hyde Park melted away to reveal the grim beauty of the Institute?s courtyard and the garden of Shah beneath the twilight sky.

?Where have you been?? She asked as she brushed her lips ? the same lips that, just moments ago, had tormented the taste of Uziya?s mouth - along this man?s cheek.

?Far realm, Ma?tresse. For what it seems has been forever.? His words were measured and intonated with a wealth of culture, as though merely speaking was a skill the man had. ?I?ve just returned recently and now that I am caught up on all of the work that I missed in my absence, I thought it a good time to seek out the loveliest teacher in the school.?

?You are too kind.? She said softly, peeling her body from his embrace with a languid hesitancy. She turned back and, with one gracefully slender arm, motioned toward Uziya. ?Do you know Apprentice Grazuul??

?I don?t think I?ve had the pleasure.? He said as his eyes slid from the beauty of the Mistress to take in the sight of the Illusionist. ?I am Mage Tutori Silvesta.?

Uziya said nothing. He watched the pair and how easily they flowed together. He?d never seen this man before and had spent so much time with Zhennavieve over the last few months that he was completely shaken at the sight of her intimate familiarity with another. Stammered, stunned, he could only watch.

The awkward seconds ticked by, and finally Mistress LaCroix breathed an uncomfortable laugh to break the silence. ?Uziya.? Her voice was coaxing and warm. ?Say something.?

?I?? Uziya started before shaking off the attempt. He wasn?t really sure what to say or how to greet the man. Just moments ago it seemed there would be a culmination of weeks and weeks of flirtatious persuasion between he and Zhennavieve, and now all of that suddenly felt so foolish in the face of this man?s arrival. This man who seemed to know her so well. Too well? ?Are you two lovers?? The question just sort of fell out of his mouth.

The biological lack of blood flow in Zhennavieve?s cheeks kept her from blushing, but that was the only thing as her eyes fell downward and away as she fought to keep a secret smile from staining her lips.

This man, Tutori, was not so abashed. ?We are.? He said, before adding. ?Well, we were. Once upon a time.? His hand tenderly came to rest upon the nape of her neck. ?Or perhaps I should say constantly upon a time.?

In an attempt to harness composure she slid forward, out of his grasp, though as his hand departed she looked wistfully back for a brief second. ?Not exactly an ideal topic of conversation, gentlemen.? With a sensual grace she crossed the distance and returned to Uziya?s side, her small hand once more seeking his. ?Perhaps we should head to the Inn and get a drink? We could catch up on old times and??

?No.? Uziya said with a single step back, hand unencumbered by her touch. ?I have some things I need to take care of.?

?Uziya.? Her voice was knowingly pleading.

?It?s okay.? He said as he took another step back, sharp crimson eyes glancing from the Mistress of Illusion to Tutori and back again. ?But, I think you should know that I completely understand what you mean now about not drawing attention to the distinction between what?s real and what isn?t. You?ve really shown me how it is supposed to look.?

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-15 15:17 EST


"So, uh ... why am I here, exactly?"

Patty leant her hip against the worknech she was most familiar with, turning her violet-eyed gaze onto the mage who had assigned her supposedly free period to working with him here in the lab. Rainar Pontius had only recently returned from some mysterious challenge with the majority of his House, and had been inserted into her daily life by virtue of taking over some of the Itemcraft lessons she was taking.

"You're here, Novitiate Powell, to prove to me that you do, in fact, know something of Item Augmentation," he told her, one brow raised as he looked her over. "I'm led to believe that you are already excelling in Alchemy, thanks to a peculiarity of your own world, which in turn leads me to believe that you are able to adapt or even create a potion which, when applied to your dismally untouched wand, will effect whichever enchantment you require."

"Well, obviously," she said a little stiffly, bristling at the 'dismally untouched' part of his comment. She'd managed well enough with her cloak, there was no need to get personal. "But Alchemy doesn't overlap into your classes, Mage Pontius."

He stepped close, altogether too close for her peace of mind, holding her gaze with unflappable calm. "It does now. Begin."

Knowing better than to argue, Patty simply shrugged, pulling off her blazer and tying back her hair before she began to set up the workbench with the equipment she would need. Thankfully, it hadn't been more than two hours since she was last in here, or she would have had to have cleaned up after the last person to used the bench in the time between. As it was, she was the last person to have used this bench.

Her spellbook opened to the page she wanted at a touch, tucking itself out of the way of her busy hands. Apparently also out of sight of the Mage watching her, if the slightly irritated cough from behind was anything to go by.

"What is that you are doing, Novitiate?"

Oh, great, Patty thought to herself as she dusted salt from her hands into the cauldron. I'm gonna be tested as well.

"I'm boiling salt water in the cauldron to purify it of any after-effects of the last potion made, sir," she told him as politely as she could over the gentle sound of bubbling from the cauldron in question. "It makes a good base for this potion, as well."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him nod slowly, a faint frown of confusion touching her brow as she also noticed that he was making notes in what looked like a spellbook. He caught her looking, a faintly stern look of embarrassment touching his handsome features as he gestured for her to get on with it.

Turning back to her work, she began to shred her mandrake root with the first knife to hand, wondering what was actually going on. And why should he look embarrassed at making notes? It wasn't as though he needed to copy from her, surely. He was a Mage; he had to have already far surpassed her in technical ability, even if he hadn't taken Alchemy for his own select course.

"And what is it you are doing now?" For all the authority in his tone, Patty could have sworn that Rainar Pontius sounded genuinely interested. "I require you to keep up a running commentary as you work. Include as many details as you feel are necessary."

She had to fight not to smile at that; if he was using this as an excuse to get something down in his spellbook to try out another time, he'd just managed to get himself a dictating demonstration with one instruction. Not that he would ever admit to it, of course. Mage Pontius was known to be a genius with Itemcraft of all kinds; why would he be stealing a novice's potion recipe?

"I'm shredding mandrake root," she told him, falling back into the voice she had used for the last two years as one of the buddy-students at her former school. "It can't be too fine, or you lose all the juices on the chopping board, but too thick, and the potion doesn't coalesce at all." Lifting the board, she scraped her shredded root into the cauldron, turning the heat down.

"It's best to let it simmer while you're adding ingredients," she went on, taking up another pot to continue working. "You don't want it to burn dry, unless you've screwed up early on. The further on you get with a potion, the less likely it is that you can afford a mistake. They have a tendency to blow up in your face."

"Next you add frankincense - just a pinch of the resin, not too much. It's a good fixer; whatever else you add to a potion, frankincense will help it bind to whatever object you're looking at imbuing. This is Billings root; normally used in Power Stripping or Vanquishing potions, but it can also be used to bind, just like the frankincense. You can't use too much, though - more than about a half-nail, and this potion won't bind anything at all. You crush it with the blade of a knife, and get as much of the juice and flesh into the cauldron as you can."

Behind her, she could hear now the scratching of pen on parchment, pretty certain that her erstwhile tutor was, in fact, using this session to get something down in his spellbook he hadn't come across before. She supposed she should have been angry about that, but it was quite a compliment, really.

"You need to stir this now until it turns a sort of pale yellow color," she said then, doing just that. "Did you want to come over and make sure I'm getting this right?"

The scrape of his stool on the stone floor was so enthusiastic, Patty almost giggled. Her amusement, however, was stilled in her throat as Rainar leaned over her to inspect the now straw-colored potion thoughtfully. She still didn't know quite what Master Nil'aiha had done to her, but for some reason these days, proximity to anyone who touched her as attractive - male or female - seemed to enflame certain parts of her that really needed to be taught how to play dead.

"Very good, Novitiate Powell. Continue."

Drawing her thoughts back to herself as Rainar moved away, Patty cleared her throat, throwing him an almost relaxed smile as he took a seat on the other side of the workbench, ostensibly to watch her work. She could still hear the scrape of pen on parchment from behind her, deducing that he had cast a spell to take notes discreetly.

"Well, at this point, there's only two more ingredients to go," she shrugged. waving a handful of plant matter around. "Holy Thistle, which just needs to be crushed and dipped in mustard seed - in it goes - and since this potion is all about enchanting my wand, I'm going to add a drop of my own blood. You might wanna stand back a bit."

Taking up a small knife, she pricked the end of her index finger, holding it over the simmering cauldron while the rest of her leaned back as far as she could, eyes half-closed. Rainar looked from her face to her finger, and lurched backwards just as the drop of blood fell into the potion, sending a violent flash of flame and smoke upward to scent the air with, strangely enough, the smell of violets in bloom.

Sucking her finger clean, Patty waved the smoke away. "And voila," she offered. "One potion to fix an offensive spell to a wand. All I have to do now," she added, lowering her hand from her mouth as she followed her own instructions, "is siphon off the liquid - disposing of what's left of the solids safely, of course - and set my wand in it to marinade overnight. By dawn tomorrow, I should have a functioning wand. I hope."

"Tell me, Novitiate Powell," Rainar said, clearing his throat loudly. Behind her, the pen sounds abruptly stopped. "If this is such a simple potion to make, why is it you have not before enchanted your wand?"

She looked a little abashed at that. "It's not a long-term spell," she shrugged awkwardly. "It lasts about three days, and then goes kaput. I'd like to work on a way to make it permanent, but I haven't found a decent dispensary in the city yet. Until I do, I gotta make do with what's here, and some ingredients just aren't available in the school."

Again, Rainar nodded, looking pensive as he watched her tidy the evidence of her potion-making away. "What do you believe is the key ingredient needed to bind this potion's imbuing properties permanently?"

"Honestly?" Patty paused, shrugging one shoulder as she looked over at the mage. "I'd say it's a drop of blood from every one of the disparate races and species in Rhy'Din. Somewhere, there has to be a blood-type that'll fix my blood to the Billings root and frankincense."

"And it must be blood because spell-casting is ultimately an organic exercise," the Mage finished for her, once more nodding his head up and down in thoughtful agreement. He was silent for a long moment, and quite suddenly straightened. "Finish what you are doing and be on your way, Novitiate Powell. We are done here."

As he swept away, gathering his belongings with him, Patty stared after him, leaning on the once more clean countertop in vague amazement. "Yeah, remind me not to thank you for the next tip you give me," she muttered a little resentfully, looking down at her wand, immersed in the pale yellow of the potion. "I have to stop just handing my research out to everyone I meet."

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-07-16 11:20 EST
Outside the Classroom of Illusion


Inhuman eyes regarded the new arrival with avarice and sneering amusement. The illusionist was clearly distraught and yet his nature dictated that he not be crass towards her, "Yes?"

"Feel like killing something?" Chika spoke of the one emotion she truly understood.

Uziya managed to present a fairly calm facade despite what she'd just witnessed and she had to commend him his skillful ennui. Even as he began to question how she could possibly know what he was feeling she inclined a head toward the classroom that was even now the scene of an impassioned embrace.

The cambion continued to be impressed as despite the flicker of pain she could taste upon the air he was able to disassemble as if what was occurring in that classroom had little effect on him.

She smirked and deliberately set off as if she could care less. Perhaps simply desperate for a distraction or intrigued by her seemingly honest disinterest in him, Uziya sent an image of his illusionary self before her.

A haughty look over her shoulder revealed her feelings clearly as she stepped through his image. Pleasingly he followed and it became a game. Casting an image of himself before her again and again.

She led him upon a circuitous path that seemed less than deliberate. Finally drawing short before another classroom's door and turning to smile at him in a slow predatory revelation of teeth and disdain.

"I can understand your anger, Grazuul, after all, I'd want to kill someone too."

Again with the flirtatious smile and the shrug of a shoulder as he attempted to brush off her words, "And just who do you think I'd want to kill?" All charm.

She practically purred the revelation, "Well, it would be a hard choice, wouldn't it? The lover of Mistress LaCroix...." She watched his eyes widen slightly at the direct hit unaware that she'd overheard so much and while she had him in that vulnerable moment of exposure she waved a hand toward the door they stood beside, a kinetic push of magic sending the wards skewing and the portal parting..."Or...the lover of my love...?"

Revealed before Uziya was the erotic tableaux of Master Mistmark straining between the thighs of one Tiatari Blayne. Pressed taut against the bookshelf his girlfriend was quite the willing participant in their passionate embrace.





Chika experienced a sinful rush of pleasure at the sight of Uziya's expression. First Faetha and Gotha, then Myraddin, and now Uziya. The school was proving to be the training ground she needed to survive a match of wits and wills with her Cambion bloodline. Manipulation was fast becoming an art form she excelled at.

Leda

Date: 2011-07-17 10:52 EST


Mmm ... it felt good to be back among the little luxuries of what was home, for now. No doubt Thea Parsimonious and the elusive Alaric hadn't even missed her presence during her little expedition through rock and stone. Not that Leda cared; Mogadon had missed her, and that was all she needed to know.

Her wounds had been seen to, with much tutting and scolding by the Infirmary Mistress, her skin now smooth once again but raw and tender to the touch where burns and cuts had once littered her flesh. Were she where she belonged, Leda would have walked through the cleansing fires of Pandemonium to remove the ache from her bones. Yet here, a suggestion had been made some weeks beforehand which now seemed the perfect opportunity to try.

"Thea."

All powdered wig and disapproval, the Overseer of House GorgonHorn looked up irritably from her reading. It was an expression Leda had become used to since joining the Institute. Thea Pausanias did not see any worth in her, and could not stand the easy comfort the slave displayed with her own body and mind. There had been clashes in the past, and no doubt there would be clashes in the future.

"Yes?"

Leda's lips curved into a slowly enticing smirk as she watched the older woman grow uncomfortable under her gaze. "How do I go about taking a bath?" she asked eventually, tiring of the squirming she always seemed to induce in the stuffy female.

"You fill the bathtub with hot water, and you sit in it until you are bored or the water is cold," came the inevitably short reply. "Do not forget your towel this time."

Inclining her head with another of those slowly enflaming smirks, Leda stepped away from the GorgonHorn doorway, padding lightly through the exquisite suite of rooms toward the bathroom. As hot water flowed into the tub, she turned to inspect the array of bottles standing nearby, sniffing each in turn. Thea's belongings were always obvious; chokingly floral, overpowering to be near for too long. But this one ... She sniffed again at the bottle she had found. Spicy, musky, heated, enticing to the nose. If it belonged to Alaric, he would not mind her taking a little, surely?

Added to the water, soon the room was filling with spiced and scented steam. Thea had said nothing of adding cold water, no doubt in the hope of causing some humiliating burn upon the half-breed's skin. But scalding though the filled tub was, Leda's skin was impervious to the danger as she slid into the encompassing embrace of the water.

Never had she felt anything so delicious in her lifetime. Never before had she seen water as anything but a nuisance. But here, now, she could feel every inch of her skin tingling as the water lapped against her, wrapping her around in heat that seemed to soak through to her very bones. A low sound of pleasure rumbled up from the depths of her chest, released in a loud, shameless moan that reached past the open door to the rooms beyond.

Such pleasure from such a simple act. And from one pleasure, how easy it was to smooth herself into another, obeying the siren's call of her maternal blood as it demanded satisfaction for her senses. Heedless of the open door, of the shameless display of her desires, Leda gave in to the knowing trail of fingertips over her tingling, heated skin.

Whimpering tenderly as pert, firm flesh was kneaded and pinched, hardening under her touch; releasing a low gasp as a palm smoothed down over her trembling body to tease between her thighs; her head thrown back over the edge of the bathtub as she sought the release she had promised herself, her voice rising in brazen desire to let moaning, sighing cries of pleasure reverberate around the bathroom and beyond. Oh, yes ... a bath was definitely something she could grow to like.

Yet all good things must come to an end, no matter how oft repeated they are in the shortest span of time. With throbbing limbs and flushed skin, she drew herself from the cooling water, shaking the moisture from her body as the remnants of her little diversion disappeared down the drain. Her skin smelt of spice and musk and inviting heat, a strange but stimulating mix of masculine and feminine.

With one last lazy stretch, Leda left the bathroom to the Vaden who scuttled in, making her slow, sashaying way across the main rooms of the suite in all her natural glory, ignoring the scandalised gasp that came from the prudish Thea as she passed. Were there any other eyes to see that leisurely passage, the slave did not mind, nor did she care. She had had her fun, and learned a thing or two in the process.

That men did not smell as they did entirely by nature ... and that a bath is an open invitation to sate your senses in the best possible way.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-07-17 13:41 EST
{Larus Wing}

"We started by..."

"I don't care."

Iameth's waving hand distracted Cinder from his recount of the endeavor, sending a sharp brow above the vampire's right eye arching high in query. It was rare to see Mage Haveloche baffled, though when those rare occurrences came about they were obvious, albeit fleeting. "Overseer?"

"Did I stutter, Cinder? I don't think so." The succulent smile of lavender lips framed vicious fangs and twisting tongues. "I...don't...care."

"But much transpired." Cinder interjected.

"Much always does." Iameth quickly replied. "And much always will. I'll learn enough in time."

"Could the two of you stop talking?" Grant snapped, eyes of liquid seduction appearing from beside the quadratic canvas positioned between he and the Sorcerer. "It's hard to paint a still while you're not being...well, still."

It was Grant's insistence that birthed a victorious grin upon Iameth's lips, though Cinder seemed uninterested in complying with the demands of the Apprentice. "There are things that need to be discussed involving the other houses, namely Satyrkiss."

"Indeed there are." Iameth agreed as pupiless eyes were veiled by the heavily aroused fall of lids. The inhale that followed was slow but intense, spreading the masculine width of his naked chest with every passing second. "And I can guarantee that my information is much more pertinent than yours."

"This claim would seem much more authentic if not for your current...venture." Cinder's grim monotone somehow captured his subtle disdain perfectly.

The venture that he spoke of was the Overseer of House Viperfang's pose and all that it entailed. The fiendish Sorcerer sat dominantly upon a giant python; the thick, strong length of the serpent proving an ample throne as it coiled around itself, leaving its reptilian head to menacingly hover just above that of Iameth's. Left at that, it would have been a picture of supremacy and intimidation to rival the past Overseer's of the House, though the Jikininki's fondness for female companionship was legendary and could not be ignored, even in rendered portraits. Bedecked in a burlesque rendition of the Institute's Novitiate uniform, a pair of hopeful neophytes, infused with futile aspiration of joining the House, knelt along each side of the Overseer's bare legs, their arms equally entwined about lavenders calves and their heads resting upon his thighs. Beyond that it was hard to see what endeavor they embarked upon thanks to the veil of hair, one blonde and one crimson, that bathed Iameth's waist...though whatever it was, it appeared rhythmic and sounded hungrily pleasant.

Iameth's gaze crept open to stare at the vampire with languid elation. "Emilina has returned from her little vacation."

"Please." Grant's rankled inflection seeped in from the side. "All I ask for is a little peace and quiet. There's already enough going on in this scene that requires my attention, trying to continue while you two go back and forth is nearly impossible."

Cinder didn't appear to hear him, instead staring at Iameth with a rather dubious look. "Why?"

Iameth's laugh was rich and condescending. "Now that's no way to inquire about one you hold so dear, now is it?"

Features born of an aristocratic legacy hardened, sculpting a demeanor of predatory calm. "That feast was long ago." Cinder said. "And starved to utter depletion."

Purple fingers dropped to the lustfully frenetic blonde head, razor-edged talons carefully kept from scraping too hard while riding upon her crown. "Is that right? Because I'm almost certain that I heard that young Miss Barron was aiding you in rediscovering your...hunger."

For the second time in as many minutes the ancient vampire was startled. "That..."

Before Cinder could explain, the strict tension infecting Iameth's shoulders and arms was tightened by a sharp inhale sucked through clenched fangs. Eyes fluttered as seconds leaked by, followed by a hissing breath that muddled the suppressed surprise of the girls in his lap as they greedily consumed his pulsating donation.

The vampire averted his grim gaze, instead choosing to look at the artist, who, at that moment, was diligently sweeping his brush across the canvas with a look of inspiration and arousal colliding in his eyes. "Perfect." Grant murmured through a wicked grin.

The residual pleasure of the girls' efforts faded quickly and the hands that rested upon their heads urged them away so the Overseer could stand. Grant's scoff at this disturbance of artistry went unanswered as Iameth's attention was newly rekindled upon Cinder. "Now would be a perfect time for you to get reacquainted with Sorceress Berland. We all know of her abhorrence regarding her current position within Satyrkiss, and what better way to scorch some flesh then to stoke her fires of aversion?"

Cinder reached for the folded garment that draped across the back of the chair he stood beside, procuring the silken robe between his hands and opening it for the nude Sorcerer. "I would rather not." He said as he fitted Iameth with the apparel. "Having just returned from the trials of Mistress Tanner I am still a bit spent. I would ask for more time to...recover."

Tying his robe at the waist, Iameth glanced at the anxiously patient Novitiates who awaited his next command. A tilt of his head pointed toward a door across the room with curling black horns, and with matching giggles the two quickly stood and laced their fingers, happily making their way to, and through, it.

Iameth looked back at Cinder. "Alright, fine. Take your time to recuperate, my friend. Besides, there are other ways to skin a mage." He took a step away and paused. "Actually, I have a better idea. " He turned back. "Do me a favor. Go and find me Cadence, would you? I need to speak with her immediately."

"As you wish."

With a flash of those vicious fangs Iameth turned for the door that the pair of novices vanished through and made his way there, not looking back until he arrived. He paused just upon the threshold, leaving claws to lovingly rake down the doorframe. "Now that I think about it, let's not do immediately. Give me an hour."

Cinder watched as the Overseer of House Viperfang disappeared and growled low in his throat, his attention diverted by the insertion of Grant's smooth intonation.

"You probably ought to make that three."

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-18 02:58 EST
Dirt to Dirt, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust - Part 1 of 4

Daylight filtering in through the windows of his room pulled his from his dreams - dreams full of clashing steel and adrenaline, the thunderous blood of the warrior that, it seems, all those of like descent must have flowing through them, if the tales are true. Pale blue eyes opened as he sat up, groaning lightly at the stiffness of well-worked, sore muscles that will in mere moments be a fading memory, once he gets himself going. Rolling from the comfortable bed, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs, he made his way to the main sitting room of his private quarters.

The past two nights had been fun - much more fun than dueling with magic, really, though that had been an experience itself. The feel of a blade in his hand, facing his opponent with nothing between them but steel and air, direct and simple. The first match had ended in a tie, true enough, though for his first standing against a man of higher rank he had - once again - made an excellent showing for himself. The second match had been against the same woman who had given him his first match in magic dueling, and he'd fared better, coming out with the win. It had been satisfying enough just to win - to win against someone that had beaten him in something else had been, somehow, that much more gratifying.

The day started - as usual - with a series of stretches to warm up, followed by a series of simple calisthenics - situps, pushups, eight count body builders and the like, and then it was on to the weights. The exercise routine helped him to clear his mind while it strengthened the body, and that fact aside it was a psychological truism that with control of the body comes control of the mind. He remembered reading that somewhere, though he couldn't remember where now.

The exercises continued until the muscles burned, at which point he gave it a rest, stretching out to cool down again, before finally he toweled off the sweat and made his way to the shower, turned the hot water up as high as he could stand it, and stepped in. Six needle-spray heads rained their spray down on him as he stood in the center, his head tilted back, letting the steam and heat saturate his sore muscles and rinse the salt and sweat from his body, along with the lingering dregs of sleep.

Wrapping a towel around his waist as he stepped out, he walked back to his room through the still-deserted common room of Dianthus Wing, and found the folded piece of paper taped to his door. With a frown he pulled it off and opened it, scanning the short message.

Front of the Institute, 30 minutes.

For a full minute he stared at this message, a slight frown on his face. He hoped this wasn't another attempt to recruit him into a house. There had been the one time that the girl - Bryn, he remembered - had tried, and he had not been terribly impressed with her promises of power, prestige and success. He's been here long enough to have gotten acquainted with the houses and their statuses, not to mention the reputation each had and the way each worked - their defining attributes, as he thought of it - and if he were to make a choice, it wouldn't be ViperFang. As he'd said to the blood-drinker, Elizabeth, the other night, he refused to align himself with anyone he'd have to watch closely for signs of betrayal, and from what he'd heard the greater majority of them would gladly sacrifice their own mothers (assuming they had one) to get ahead.

For that matter, the other houses didn't impress him greatly, either, except perhaps for SatyrKiss. GorgonHorn was the house for conservatives, and Jacen wouldn't (and couldn't) be bothered by a bunch of stodgy stiff-necked lameasses. Stagnation brings death - every creature, from high to low, knew this. Even his father knew it, probably better than anyone else. You don't learn anything by simply repeating the methods of those that came before - there's more to it than that, he'd always felt. He'd seen the shades of those that plodded along in the footsteps of those that came before, and to him that was a sad fate to be had.

StormSabre seemed more laudable, but it also seemed to be more popular, which was reason enough for him to avoid it like the plague. It would be easy to get lost there, be just another face in the crowd, and while he did like what he'd heard about them thus far, he's never been one to follow the crowd.

SatyrKiss, on the other hand, held more than one attraction to him - the emphasis on presentation and flair, the fewest members (which made it easier to stand out), the house with the greatest riches. Not only would he flourish and thrive there, but - given who his father was - he'd be quite readily accepted, he was sure.

But that was a problem for another time - for now there's this note. Part of him wondered if perhaps someone had just gotten the wrong door - the other part of him was curious to see what this was all about. If it turned out to be another recruitment drive, he could always just walk away.

He pushed past the door to step into his rooms and get dressed for this encounter, whatever it was going to be.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-18 03:01 EST
Dirt to Dirt, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust - Part 2 of 4

Ten minutes later, he's headed down the hall toward the front entrance to the Institute, dressed in his novice's uniform complete with cloak and wand, his mind as usual three steps ahead of the rest of him, pondering the possibilities of what this anonymous meeting could be about. There's no sign of Sartha, thankfully, as he has no desire to tangle with the resentful minotaur. He has no doubt that confrontation is coming one of these days, but if he can avoid it he will.

He's not paying attention as he rounded a corner and collided with a young woman, causing her to drop several items that she was carrying, some of which smashed against the stone floor and released the scent of blood and rot held within. In reaction she snarled at him, her eyes furious and disdainful as a low growl escaped her throat. "What the f*ck is wrong with you, maggot? You should watch where you're going, before I decide to make a meal out of you!"

Ordinarily he might have let that pass. He's not the type to bristle at an insult from a peer, after all, but today...well, he's feeling especially brash. The pale blue eyes looked her up and down, flickering to silver briefly as he used his own enhanced senses to get a feel for her. With a smug smile, he confirmed to himself what she'd already practically claimed out loud. She's a vampire, without a doubt. "You should talk, lady. Maybe you should watch where you're going yourself before you get hurt."

She halted in the process of kneeling to salvage what she could of the wreckage, straightening back up to look at him with wide, icily enraged eyes. This time when she opened her mouth to speak, he got a glimpse of the fangs. "You arrogant little blood sack." She advanced a step towards him, then another. "What's to stop me from -"

He let her get that far before he brought up a hand, open and palm out towards her, closing it into a tight fist as he spoke over her in that deep, thundering voice. "Να είστε σιωπηλός!"

Her reaction was immediate and almost got a laugh from him - her eyes bugged out wide as her hands went to her throat, halting her advance towards him instantly as she tried to speak...but no words came out. Rather than being deterred, however, she looked more furious, and began walking towards him again, clearly trying to say something and not able to make so much as a sound.

He let her get another two steps towards him before he spoke again in that same rolling voice. "Να είστε ακόμα!" Immediately she came to a halt, frozen in place, and for a moment he saw - mixed with impotent rage - a hint of fear.

With a smug grin he stepped forward, walking a circle around the vampire, held in place by a simple, undeniable command, unable to move or speak, held in place by his will alone. Keeping his tone low, smug and calm as he paced around her, his voice dropped back to his normal range. "It looks like I'll be what stops you, vampire. Do you know what you are?" As he came around to the front of her he stopped, inches away, able to sense her fury and her futile attempts to win back control of her body as he looked into her eyes. "You are a corrupt, unsanctified, walking corpse that, by some miracle, has managed to hang on to a semblance of intelligence enough to be disqualified as a zombie."

Again he moved, walking around her, his eyes on her the entire time, that smug grin never leaving his face. "Technically, you're dead, and just haven't realized it yet. So let me be the one to point out the pertinent fact to you." He continued pacing around her, admiring her from head to toe. Such a shame, really - if not for her demeanor he might have found himself interested, if only for a brief time, in trying to seduce her. "My name is Jacen Balthazar, but I'm sure you don't care about introductions. The important fact is this: my father is Hades, the God of the Underworld and ruler over the dead."

Coming to a halt at her left, he paused just long enough to let that sink in, then leaned over just enough to put his lips millimeters from her ear, smiling all the while. "You are under his domain, you undead b*tch. And, since I'm his son and heir, it means you're under mine as well."

Backing up again, he came around to stand in front of her, looking into her eyes. His tone became frosty, filled with utter contempt now, each word nearly bitten out. "So, unless you want me to put an end to this miserable excuse you call an existence, you will be more respectful in the future. Because if you aren't, I'll turn you inside out, reduce you to dust and use you to fertilize the headmistress' gardens."

And without another word he swept past her, leaving her to stand there impotently until he'd gotten a decent distance away from the girl before waving a hand towards her dismissively over his shoulder, not even bothering to look back as he spoke again in that rolling, rumbling voice. "Απορριφθεί." And then he's around the corner and out of sight, headed towards the front entrance once again.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-18 03:04 EST
Dirt to Dirt, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust - Part 3 of 4

He had to admit it, at least to himself if no one else, that doing that had been fun, more enjoyable than perhaps it should have been. On the other hand, he's never been a fan of people with superiority complexes, something that he's sure the few that have had dealings with the young demigod (outside of his teachers) would find laughable. He's well aware that others find him to be an arrogant, smug, irritating cuss, but that suited him just fine. He'd never been shy about speaking his mind and airing his opinions, much to the displeasure of others, but he considered himself superior to no one unless he'd proven himself to be so.

And here, he's at the low end of the totem pole. Much as he disliked that, there's nowhere else to go but up from here, which is where he's determined his direction lies. The opinions of others be damned - the only opinion of himself he'd ever needed was his own.

Finding the doors at last, he pushed through the entrance, looking around the grounds and spying the slender, willowy shape of an elf whose features he found familiar - Mistress Praysin, the earth elemental instructor. As the door clicked shut behind him she turned and beckoned to him, confirming that it had been she that left the note on his door to be found when he came back from his shower. Walking over to her, he stopped just before reaching her and gave her a slight bow. "Mistress Praysin. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

She regarded him coolly for a moment, a calm smile on her lips, before she gestured for him to follow. "Come with me, Novice...I wish to speak with you alone."

Confused - yet intrigued - he followed after her as she walked away from the main building, trailing in her sweeping, graceful wake. "Of course, Mistress. May I ask what this is about?"

The Mistress of Earth continued walking along, her pace unhurried. "I see many students come through this school, Balthazar, of many varying kinds and levels of achievement. I have long since learned which students have what kind of potential in my classes - some who may never be able to move beyond mediocrity, others who are average, and less often those that have greater potential. Rarely I see a student with your kind of power in my course, Novice." She came to a halt and turned to face him, her expression grave but kind. "And yet, all I seem to get from you is a performance that could be considered average, at the very best."

That got a frown from him, one of confusion and a touch of dismay. "I...am sorry, Mistress...but I think you might be -"

She held up a hand to cut him off. "I am not mistaken, Balthazar. Your father is Hades, a being who not only oversees the dead but is the guardian of the treasures of the earth, as well. I have heard from Master Smout'n of your aptitude for necromancy, which I am certain you get from your father." She didn't miss the grimace that he tried unsuccessfully to suppress, bringing a soft chuckle from her. "You should be proud of your heritage, young man. And I think that perhaps one reason you perform so dismally in my class, when you should be outshining students a year ahead of you, is because you take so little in it that you don't acknowledge the things you are capable of, that are a part of you."

Even through the dismay and chagrin he's feeling, he had to admit that she was right, at least about his performance in her class. "My apologies, Mistress."

She waved it away, shaking her head with exasperation in her features. "I don't want to hear apologies, Novice. I would like to know why."

That got a grimace from him, followed by a brief moment of hesitation. But...she asked, didn't she? "To be honest, ma'am, it's just...I don't see the point. I don't know what school of study I'm going to choose, but somehow, I don't think it will be elemental magic...it's not something I'm really interested in, is all."

He braced himself for the blow-up that must surely be coming, only to find that it wasn't coming. Instead the Mistress laughed, shaking her head. "Ah, but how the young fail to see the full picture. Just because you may not be interested in limiting your focus to the practice of the elemental magics, does not mean you should neglect them."

She turned away and continued walking, motioning for him to follow. "There is, within each of us, different kinds of alignments. Good, evil, up, down, left, right, a flair for the dramatic or a tendency towards mediocrity. My interest is in your elemental alignment. We all have one, of course, and - if you can develop the skill - you can draw tremendous power from it. Not just for elemental magics, but for all your works in any discipline. The elements, being present all around us, are massive power sources, and the earth is perhaps the most powerful."

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-18 03:06 EST
Dirt to Dirt, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust - Part 4 of 4

The pair of them walked a short way further before Jacen saw their destination - a ring of standing stones jutting up from the earth. "Come and sit with me, Novice, and I will show you what I mean." As they approached the circle she continued on. "You know how to create an elemental, and how to do a few other novelty tricks that we've covered in class. What I want to show you now is something far greater."

They entered the circle, and the Mistress gestured around them at the stones and the earth under their feet. "Earth, like air, is everywhere. You don't have to look for it, no matter where you are, as long as you're on the surface of the world - it's there, under you, all the time. Not like water, which has to be searched for if there are no sources nearby, or like fire, which has to be created in order to be useful - the earth is always there. And its power is limitless. The mage who aligns himself with earth can, with the right kind of knowledge and mindset, become an unmovable force, a veritable stone which others may try to smash and only crush themselves against."

Without hesitation the Mistress of Earth sat down on the ground, right there in the dirt, and gestured for him to do the same, which he did, settling across from her, cross-legged, on the earth. "Close your eyes, Novice." He did so obediently, electing not to say anything else, really, just wanting - for the moment - to get this over with.

And yet, he had to admit, there was a part of him that was intrigued, that wished to see where the Mistress was going with this.

And so as she spoke, he listened to her voice. "Place your hands on the ground, open, palm down. Just like that, yes. Feel the earth. Is it grainy, or sandy, or rich topsoil? Is it wet, or dry?" Her voice was low, even, gentle...hypnotic. "Dig your fingers into it, feel it get under your nails, into the grooves of your fingerprints. Now use your other senses. Smell the earth around you. Is it loamy, or flinty? Taste its scent on the air...is it salty, or suitable for growing, or without nutrients for the things which grow upon and within it? What minerals are there here? Are there riches beneath us, or is this place as poor as the souls that once wandered it?"

As she's speaking, he focused on her words, her voice, trying to do what she asked. It's surprising to him to find that it wasn't hard - in fact, nearly as soon as his fingers began to dig into the soil under him, he began to feel things, to sense things. The stones around them, jutting out of the earth, are only protrusions, tips of an iceberg - their real bulk was buried in the earth beneath them, immobile, the strong skeletal structure of the planet under him. The soil was rich, rife with rot and plenty of nutrients for growing things, and yet nothing would grow here. Some strangeness was upon this soil, nothing mineral or animal but magical, that kept the circle clear. Probing deeper, he could sense more rot and decay beneath them. Calcium, organic remains buried deep, blood spilled on the earth and seeping into it over and over, feeding whatever ritual had been performed here, some rite to a pagan god, perhaps. Whoever it had been, they would do so no more, but the earth waited on anyway, patiently remaining barren in hopes that the practitioner would return.

And, going deeper, he could sense other things. Riches, sparkling stones held within the womb of the earth under them, pretty baubles that are worthless but pretty to look at nonetheless. Metals, the sharp tang of iron and copper and nickel, enough to be detectable but not so much as to attract the attention of a prospector, made themselves known to his senses as well. Reaching still further, deeper, he could sense heat, slow movement of the living, beating heart of the planet under him, its power untapped, a great sleeping beast that needed only the right impetus to awaken and become a great and terrible machine of destruction.

Finally he became aware that the mistress had long since fallen silent, and with a start he opened his eyes...to find himself alone. The morning mists had burned away, the sun significantly higher in the sky, and another note, written in the same flowing hand, at his feet, held in place by a nugget of shining silver. Picking it up, he unfolded the paper and read the words written there.

I expect better from now on.

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-19 11:30 EST


" ... as in the case of Florisecunda's Theory of Mass Summoning, in which the conjurer presents that the summoning of many creatures is less a drain on the magical stamina, or mana, of a caster, than the summoning of one alone ..."

Patty blinked abruptly, realising that her mind had started to wander yet again. This was ridiculous; she liked Conjuration, she should be able to concentrate on this study period without having her thoughts wandering off to hurt recollections of a recent conversation with Jerry, or resentful imaginings of what it was he had confessed to her.

After everything they'd promised each other about taking things slowly, about not rushing into anything physical, and he'd gone all the way with a complete stranger. Not only a complete stranger, but some kind of hermaphroditic, androgenous blue cat man/woman, if Jerry's description was anything to go by. At least he'd been able to give a name to her, even if the rest of his latest learning curve had been garbled in embarrassment and shame; Khoom.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion, but it was what Patty was feeling right now. Admittedly, she had almost done the same under Master Nil'aiha's influence, but the difference was that she hadn't completely given in. All she'd done was perform a rather humiliating strip-tease and moan her boyfriend's name; Jerry had told her that he'd done everything he possibly could with his new friend.

Resentment and anger were warring for top position as she tried to settle her mind with study. Resentment against this Khoom person for being the one Jerry wanted to share that first time with, for being better than Patty could ever hope to be; anger that Jerry had actually thought he could keep it a secret from her, that she didn't mean enough to him to be open and honest as soon as it had happened.

Oh, she'd heard of Khoom, of course. Some sort of Blue Mage who had a real winning way about him/her/it. She supposed she couldn't blame Jerry if he had been under the influence, but that only made it worse. She needed to yell at someone, but her boyfriend was so utterly embarrassed and ashamed by what had happened that yelling at him would be like kicking a puppy.

But there was someone else, wasn't there? Someone she could yell at with complete safety on the moral highground. The book snapped shut in front of her as she rose to her feet, collecting her bag as she made her way back toward her shared chamber. This Khoom person had better watch out; rampaging Patty was in the mood for a damn good rant, and his/her ears had been chosen as the recipients.

Uziya Grazuul

Date: 2011-07-19 18:38 EST
{The hall outside the grand balcony that looks over the Garden of Shah, during class hours}

"Uziya!" Tiatari said as she appeared behind the departing Illusionist with a crackle of electricity. "Wait."

He had felt her coming moments before she arrived, able to sense her travel upon the air the same way one feels a storm hours before the first drop of rain, and turned to depart from the balcony. He wasn't fast enough, though, and before he could make it to the archway the Primorious Discipulus appeared. Uziya paused, crimson eyes closed as he sorted through the tangle of thoughts that had arisen over the past hour or so. He wasn't a big fan of feeling pain, and even less of a fan of showing it. With that in mind he whirled about with a charming smile smeared across his handsome visage. "Tia, we don't have to do this."

She crossed the distance between them and lifted a hand as she arrived, brushing his cheek with her fingertips. "Good." She breathed as she reached in to kiss his lips only to find them turned aside. Not even his cheek was offered. "Uziya? What is it?"

His laugh was half amused and half defeated as he stepped back, withdrawing from her caress. "What is it? I just found you f*cking Mistmark. Do I really need to explain?"

"But you said that we didn't need to do this."

"Right. We don't have to do the thing where you track me down and try to explain and I sit and listen, pretending to understand. We don't have to do that."

Confusion invaded her tempest eyes. "Why would we do that? Uziya, we've talked about this before. The lengths needed to be taken in order to achieve success. We've talked about this very subject, actually."

"Well sure we did, but I never thought that you'd actually..." He'd already said it once and was unable to say it again.

She took a step toward him, the slant of her head revealing a softened expression. "Have we not sought to ascend since the day we met? I would expect no less of you if given the opportunity. It's only sex, Uziya." She again reached for his cheek. "Only sex."

It was impossible to refuse her touch twice, having grown so accustom to those slender hands upon his body. He did not withdraw this time, but leaned in. "It's more than that, Tia. It's so much more."

Her caress was short-lived as his words caught her by surprise. She pulled away. "It is what you make it. Or what I make it. Everyone knows about Mistmark's desire for female students. I was simply using my natural attributes to further my advancement. It's truly no different than using my intellect to advance my book study, or my agility to advance my physical casting. It's just another method of advancement. Nothing else."

Uziya cringed a little at her explanation and how detached it seemed. It was hard to hear. The only serious relationship he had before Tiatari was with Vliss, whose level of devotion was nearly ecclesiastic.

Tiatari smiled, which was rare for an expression normally doused in composure. "Does that make it clearer?"

"Crystal." He said with sorrowful words. Sighing, he stepped forward and gently brushed her lips with his in a whispering kiss. "It's over."

He stepped back to find her starting at him with storm-grey eyes that were exceptionally wide. "Wh..what?"

"It's over Tia." He repeated, another step back putting more distance between them. "It's just...it's just not working."

"Over this?" She scoffed, arms folding beneath the swell of her breasts. "You're ending us over something as small as this?" As the realization of the situation fully set in her frustrated expression started to melt away, revealing the concern that lay beneath. "Uziya." She whispered his name.

It was hard for him to hear his name on her lips, and it stole a bit of his resolve.

"We can get through this." She said, the forward drift of her hand finding his fingers, lacing them with her own. "Uziya we can do this. I want to be with you."

"Well, I want to be with you too. But there are just some things I can't do."

"Such as?"

"Well, sleeping with others."

She shook her head, sincerity filling her gaze. "I only want to be with you."

"Alright." He said, clenching his fingers around hers. "Then no more sleeping with teachers."

She froze, momentarily baffled by his summation. "That's...different. I only want to be with you, Uziya. I don't want to share my bed or my life with anyone else. But what I do to advance in my studies is beyond that. That's not personal. That's progression."

"Well I can't have it, Tia. I can't do this; knowing that your sleeping with someone else."

And suddenly, another realization came over the Mage. She uncoiled her thin fingers, her touch seeping away, as she took a step back. "Oh my god." She breathed. "You're right. This...is over."

"What?"

"I don't know what's happened to you, Uziya, but this isn't the you that I met in the Mastema's chamber. That man was ambitious and sought to excel. He wished to be the greatest Illusionist that ever lived, not conceding to any boundary to achieve it." She swallowed hard and stepped back, giving a small shake to her head. "That's...not this you."

In disbelief, the Apprentice merely watched this transformation of attitude occur. His mind raced for answers, searched for a response that would bring this crumbling relationship back together, and came up empty. "Tia." He finally said.

The Primorious Discipulus, Tiatari Blayne, found herself in a rare circumstance: answerless. Her entire life was comprised of deciphering conundrums, though this one seemed far beyond her ability. "No." She said sharply, a hard swallow drawing back a raspy sob. yet she was unable to keep her eyes from welling with tears. "You need to go."

"Not like this." He said softly.

"Exactly like this, Uziya." She hissed. "Your talents as an illusionist have not failed you, Apprentice Grazuul. You showed me something that was not real," Again she swallowed back the brimming hurt and exchanged it with anger, leveling a glower upon him. "...you."

There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do. Uziya dropped his crimson eyes to the floor and sighed, his heart and mind routed. He turned slowly on the ball of his foot and started away. He moved along the empty hall as quiet as a ghost, the newfound distance filling with hope that she would call after him before he reached the corner.

Her voice never came, and that hope was let go of.

...and so was she.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-07-19 19:05 EST


Back at the school, and in yet another wing of the prestigious penthouses set aside for those students who already had rank upon joining the Institute. Callisto smiled to herself, watching her twin aye-ayes exploring every last inch of their new abode as she poured fine claret into two crystal wine goblets. The Fairbourne family were influential enough that she, at least, could always guarantee a modicum of privacy. Which was just as well, considering the task she had set herself.

Speaking of which ... she turned back toward her guest, the scarlet-headed Overseer of SaytrKiss now nestled comfortably in the deep embrace of a velvet-cushioned armchair in the open bay of the main windows. Benedykt's dismissal from the House was already slipping through the corridors, carried by rumor and given to gossip. The Air Elementalist would, no doubt, find the next few weeks difficult. But Callisto wouldn't abandon him, for all Veronique's insistence. She, of course, knew a little of what it was to be cast from a House.

"Come, now," she said softly, returning to the blaze of sunshine to hand her Overseer the drink she had procured for her. "You did what had to be done. You have responsibilities."

Veronique took the glass, drinking down a large gulp of the claret before lowering her hands to her knees, the slight tremble only visible to one who had seen her in far worse straits before. "If only he had returned unchanged," she protested, secure in the knowledge that Callisto's wards were all but impenetrable to the unwanted listener. It was only a part of the charm that the necromantic illusionist offered, this assurance of somewhere private to speak ... someone safe to talk to.

"But he did not," Callisto reminded her, shaking her brunette head lightly. "A shame, to be sure, but you cannot linger on this. Yes, Benedykt is gone from the House, but we can be sure that his loyalties to you will remain unchanged. He will understand the need for action, however it has stung his pride."

Veronique's steely-eyed determination faltered in the face of this assurance. "How can he possibly continue to care for me after what I have done to him?" she demanded, her usually steady voice a-tremble with the suppressed but not yet spent emotion that had driven her to seclusion only hours before. "A public humiliation, Calli, on top of the knowledge that he will never be as beautiful as he was before, that he will never command the same fascination as he is used to. And it was done by me! By his own admission, I am the only voice he truly trusts and listens to."

"And so he shall continue to do so, once the anger is flown," Callisto reminded the sorceress who sat with her. "Your good opinion means the world to him, but I must stress this, Overseer ... you can never again meet his eyes in public, nor show the slightest favor toward him. It will be taken as a sign of weakness, and there are those who will take advantage of every slip you make."

The distress that had threatened to overcome Veronique's composure suddenly sparked into icy resentment. "Emilina," she hissed, frowning through the window down onto the walled gardens below. "No, she won't miss a trick, that one. And without a House to protect him, Benedykt is vulnerable to any attack on him."

"And any attack on him will be directed toward weakening your leadership of House SatyrKiss," Callisto completed the projected cycle with smooth confidence, taking a sip from her goblet.

"You are right, as always," Veronique admitted, albeit reluctantly. For all that she was often eager to partake in these intimate conversations, she did not like to admit that she gave her confidences to, and took the advice of a mere mage, especially one who had once been a favoured member of a rival House. But she looked upon Callisto as an asset, one foolishly cast aside by ViperFang; dangerous, yes, but only if left to her own devices. "For his own sake, and for the sake of the House, Benedykt must be utterly outcast. But you, Callisto ... your allegiances are not so well defined in the eyes of the school. You will keep faith with him, for me."

Callisto nodded slowly, choosing not to speak further on the subject. The conversation turned to the expedition to the Far Realm, to the return of Emilina and the consideration of what she might do now she had come back to what had once been her seat of power. By the end of a quartet of hours, a good portion of the claret had been drunk, and a good many problems and solutions had been discussed.

Left alone in her rooms after the Overseer had left, Callisto stood before the windows, a lazy smile curving her lips. So Veronique was feeling the pressure of dismissing her lover and friend. And yet despite the clear attachment she felt for Benedykt, the scarlet-haired sorceress was more than prepared to shun him completely to keep her tenuous hold on her power.

So ... Callisto was to offer the olive branch of peace to the outcast Benedykt, was she? Her smile deepened, showing for a moment the hard edge of untouched cold diamond deep at her core. Being in the confidences of a struggling sorceress paid off in more ways than one.

Cadence Smyth

Date: 2011-07-20 10:15 EST
Chamber Zingibar

"Grail, could you help me with something?" Cadence sang from the bathing quarters of their small suite. If she added a thread of suggestion to the lyrical notes of her voice, well, a girl was supposed to be aware of her attributes, right?

His dark head peered cautiously around the corner and then froze at the sight of her lounging in a tub full of milky bubbles. Her skin gleamed where it was slick from her milk bath and the impressive bob of the top of her breasts breached the surface. A little lower and one bent knee rose up out of the suds, hinting at what was concealed from him.

She lifted a hand and pointed to the bottle she wanted that set upon the counter. "I forgot to grab that before I got in."

He had a difficult time tearing his gaze away from the vision before him and when he finally did, he scowled at her directions, "I'm not your bath boy Cadence. Besides, any novitiate should be capable of remedying this situation." To demonstrate he snapped his wrist at the bottle and snagged it out of the air, levitating it back toward her before dropping it into the tub.

She gave a startled shriek and sat straight up as frantic hands sought the submerged bottle. The stuff was expensive and if the stopper came off...

Huge sudsy bubbles slid off the slopes of her full breasts that rounded up into prominent points. The endowed weight swinging about as she sought ...and finally found her treasure.

With a pout she lanced her gaze toward her roommate about to castigate him when she caught his mesmerized fascination. "Well, thanks for nothing." She grouched, a hint of wicked mischief in her eyes as she pushed up from the water to a standing position. Bubbles and frothy liquid sluiced down over the slightly curved abdomen and rounded hips, gliding down over the simmering lengths of her legs.

She heard his intake of breath and felt an answering flutter of a reaction. His startled departure was abrupt but it left her with a surge of womanly satisfaction.

Stepping free from the tub she levitated a towel toward her and wrapped it about herself as she contemplated her own reaction. She enjoyed the way Grail made her feel. The brief sense of power and arousal. Unlike many of the female students at the Institute, for all of her playful ways, Cadence was more than a little awkward when it came to these particular interactions.

She could joke and flirt with the best of them, but this...this was something else. On Grail she could test out her womanly wiles, explore this burgeoning new power, all the while feeling fairly safe. She liked the way his eyes lingered upon her. Loved the way she caught him staring.

In fact...she left the bathroom, wrapped only in the towel, tucked between her breasts to hold it in place. "Grail, do you happen to know what time it is?"

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-07-20 14:42 EST


"... shouldn't be here, Benedykt, you know that. What if Veronique finds out?"

"She's exactly why I've brought you here, Gina. I need to know what's going on!"

Callisto came to a curious halt outside the chamber to which Benedykt had been exiled following his disgraceful dismissal from the protective embrace of House SatyrKiss, her ears pricked by the familiarly irritating cadence of Gina Magarelli's voice in conversation with the smooth, if distressed, tones of the maimed Air Elementalist.

"Well, I can't tell you anything," Gina was saying. "I'm not even supposed to be here. You're going to get me expelled from the House, too!"

Neither of them, it seemed, had been canny enough to raise wards to protect the privacy of this conversation, and since this was only a chamber and not a suite, even with the door closed their voices carried out into the hallway for anyone to hear.

"Not if you keep your flapping mouth shut about being with me, if that is even possible for you." Benedykt sounded as though he would dearly love to slap some sense into the apprentice with him, a longing Callisto could only too well sympathise with.

Of course, should someone come past and see her eavesdropping, that would be a dreadful thing for her reputation, but Callisto was fast becoming one of the better illusionists in the school. She murmured a soft incantation, leaning comfortably against the wall, and felt the gentle coolness of her image settle over her. Unless someone came looking for a spy with magic of their own, all they would see now was the bare wall, and feel an unconscious urge not to walk close by it.

"Now you tell me right now," Benedykt had continued in a deadly tone. "What is going on? Why have I been cast out?"

There was a pause, no doubt while Gina assembled in her mind what she thought she could safely say. Benedykt had chosen the perfect person to interrogate, Callisto mused as she waited. The girl was so self-absorbed and two-faced, the chance was that she was about to repeat everything she had overheard from the day before.

"I ... Look, I don't know what's happening," the apprentice insisted hurriedly. "I just know that because Emilina's back, Veronique's paranoid about losing her place as Overseer. Because of the fiasco with the hellspawn and then you coming back looking like that -"

"Like what?"

"Veronique said you were so ugly now, not even the hellspawn would have you in her bed," Gina answered promptly. There was the sharp crack of hand against cheek, and the apprentice yelped in shock. "You hit me!"

"She would never say that," Benedykt ground out in what amounted to fury from the usually icy calm mage. "Never, do you hear me?"

"She said it to me!" Gina sounded as though she had burst into tears, Callisto thought. She'd probably never even been threatened with a slap, much less received one before. "She told me, all of us, to stay away from you, that you're a contaminant and not worthy of our allegiance, and that anyone caught with you would be punished severely! You're not good enough for us anymore, Benedykt, and Veronique's the one who told us so!"

The deafening silence that followed was enough for Callisto to be able to imagine the horrified shock in her fellow mage's expression. She knew Benedykt's loyalty to Veronique was solid as a rock, but after that little tirade, no doubt it had suddenly developed a serious crack or two. To his credit, though, he did not pursue the subject with an apprentice who was known for sharing everything she heard with everyone else, whether she was aware of it or not.

When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded dull, dragged into existence from a place too faraway to imagine. "And what of Emilina and Tutori? How have they responded to my ... Veronique's strongest decision to date?"

"They don't talk to me, you know that," the apprentice sniffled, sounding as though she truly regretted ever having even seen the Air Elementalist, much less allowed herself to be drawn into his chamber. "I heard that Emilina's planning something, that she wants the Overseership back, and that Veronique's days are probably numbered. Just one more disaster, I heard, and she'll topple."

"And where did you 'hear' this, Gina?"

"I shouldn't say -"

"Where?"

"I overheard Tutori talking to Callisto," Gina said miserably. "I didn't hear much, I just wanted to go and thank her for letting me borrow a gown for the ball, and Tutori was in her rooms in Anise Wing. They were going to do that talking thing that everyone does with Calli. They didn't see me, I swear it! And I only heard that little bit before Calli shut the doors."

"And her wards are damned difficult to get around, even for a caster of her own level," Benedykt finished for the apprentice. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that? Everyone talks to Callisto, why am I wasting my time with you?"

"Because I'm much prettier and people tell me more things," the apprentice piped up, sounding offended by the reference to her being a waste of time. Callisto had to swallow a laugh, biting down on her hand to keep quiet. "Besides, she used to be in ViperFang. Who'd trust her?"

"Gina, if you don't have anything sensible to say, keep your mouth shut. Or better yet, get out. You shouldn't be here ..."

It would seem that the meat of the conversation was done. Callisto carefully dismissed her illusion and continued on her way, her mind turning over every last syllable of every word she had overheard. Veronique's decision to dismiss the elite charms of Benedykt from House SatyrKiss was promising to have far-reaching consequences.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-07-20 22:36 EST


Shock waves ripped through the ground in a fan shape, the terrible, roaring rumble?coalescing into a massive cacophony of explosive destruction fifty yards away, violently uprooting anything that dared to rest upon the ill-fated earth, including a couple of stray students.? Tracha roared a curse and sprang into motion, barking instructions to several of the gathered novices to check on their jeopardized classmates.? In a blink, he was ripping her wand away, hurling it to the ground and savagely grabbing her wrists.?

?Have you gone mad?? he growled, his crimson-tinged eyes sizzling with barbaric fury, his fierce admonishment punctuated with a tightening of his grip, a forceful shaking of her wrists - and, in turn, the entirety of her slim form.? ?You have no business using a spell like that in this type of exercise.?

Quillyan, dazed by the unexpected destruction and the resulting ire of her instructor, was slow in answering.? The cold, pricking sensation of dread crawled along her skin and tightened her throat as she bumbled an apologetic response, ?I, I, um, I?m sorry, I --?

The guttural growls that silenced her were born of vicious wrath, an unchecked rage that had the drow lifting a dark palm to backhand his erring student.? Quillyan flinched;? her plump lips pressed tightly, her eyes flashing closed, her delicate shoulders pulled inward, bracing herself against the inevitable strike.

It didn?t come. ?

Quillyan reopened her eyes, tentatively, unwilling to release the defensive tension in her shoulders.? The instructor?s hand had lowered, the tendency toward violence repressed, but the opposite fingers were still curled tightly around her wrist - the same wrist that bore the bruises of the statue?s grip from her recent expedition in the catacombs.? ?Where?s your head, girl,? he spat, his eyes, still horribly annoyed, boring into hers. ?And if you dare to tell me it?s on that ridiculous Masquerade Ball, I swear you will never make it back to the school.?

?No, Master Tracha, it?s not, I just wasn?t thinking,? nervousness had Quillyan?s tongue loose, willing to fill the air with as many excuses as possible, hoping the intimidating instructor would find at least one of them sufficient. ?I was just casting, and I forgot that that spell wasn?t quite as focused as the last three, you see, and I was paying attention, I promise, I wasn?t thinking about the Masquerade at all - I?m not even going to the Masquerade because I don?t have anyone to go with and I don?t want to take the time to find a dress and I really don?t feel much like celebrating because I?ve just had a really, really bad month - a bad few months, actually, and ---?

?Enough!? Tracha interrupted, immediately releasing her wrist, his animosity trumped by impatience and sudden, excruciating boredom. ?Another slip like that, Quillyan, and you?ll be out of the class,? he warned, eyeing her nubile figure from head to toe, ?regardless of your performance otherwise.?

The novice nodded, her expressive eyes widely apologetic.

?In fact,? the instructor continued, firmly but without venom, ?to apologize for this stunt, you?re going to accompany me into the catacombs to investigate the collapse of the Tomb of Cynric.?

?The Tomb of Cynric?? Quillyan repeated, her apprehension unmistakable.

?An ancient crypt in the Northern Catacombs that was recently destroyed - we need to find out who, or what, caused the collapse.?

The novice nodded, numbly, subdued guilt painting her features as she recalled the tomb that she so carelessly demolished during Prayshin?s challenge.

She was. totally. screwed.

Leda

Date: 2011-07-21 15:14 EST


She couldn't see. She wasn't blindfolded; she would have felt something being wrapped about her eyes. No, the darkness that had fallen all around her was impenetrable ... a living, breathing, choking mass of shadow that cut off all light, shielding her eyes. Never before had she realised how much she relied upon her sight, nor how vulnerable she was without it. And all because she had stupidly followed a trail of black petals from the library.

She fumbled for her wand, tucked into the belt of her uniform sirt, and almost swallowed her tongue as a hand gripped her wrist, holding her groping fingers away from the only source of protection she had. Another realization; she was close to being afraid. In the bowels of the school, wrapped in a darkness she could not escape, and apparently very much not as alone as she had first thought. Foolish girl, she berated herself sternly, to lose yourself in following clues not meant for you.

Her wand was pulled form her belt, removed from her reach. She did not hear it fall, but then, she had not heard the approach of her antagonist, either. A seething assumption rose in her mind that this was some SatyrKiss fool's attempt at intimidating her, and the inflection toward fear evaporated, baring her teeth in a savage growl that betrayed the demonic side of her nature.

The grasp on her wrist was released, leaving her to grope her way through the thickening black that surrounded her, reaching to feel her way. She stumbled forward, hands waving back and forth before her path. The loss of dignity was worth it if she escaped this spell. There was always the opportunity for revenge at a later date.

Something cool and soft wrapped about one outstretched wrist, then the other, pulling tight enough to bind her hands against defending herself. She struggled instinctively, pulling hard on the binding, only to feel herself dragged forward, almost tugged off her feet by the strength displayed in taht merciless motion. Her wrists were dragged upward, over her head, and she felt whatever it was holding her pull taut, tied off somewhere to keep her in place, balanced precariously on her toes as she swayed, seeking some way to free herself.

Her thoughts were not left to themselves for long. The hands returned, bold through the many layers of cloth that her uniform provided; grasping, kneading, covering her slender but generous curves with possessive eagerness. Her blazer was removed with the familiar lick of magic, disappearing from her frame as her unseen assailant returned to their exploration of her bound form.

No, she realised, staring hard with useless eyes into the consuming darkness. Assailants. No one in the school had more than one pair of hands, and if they'd felt the need to bind her, they obviously weren't proficient enough to summon and dominate some minion while taking their pleasures. The second pair of hands came from behind her, dragging sharp fingertips down her back, the nails scoring her flesh even through her shirt while the first pair moved lower, massaging the long line of calves and thighs.

Suspicion still fought for dominance over her own thoughts, but was quickly losing the battle. She was succubuae, yes, but she was also human; the carnal nature of her demonic blood made her human body susceptible to the pleasures of the flesh, her eagerness to partake as much an invitation as every other temptation exemplified by the seductive nature she revelled in. Clearly these unseen assailants knew of her weakness; they knew she would not complain of their handling her unless she was left to be humiliated.

With sudden violence, her shirt was ripped open, left to hang in shreds from her arms; the skirt, too, was torn from her body, leaving her only in the alluring embrace of black lace. Her unknown, unseen lovers were quick to strip her of every last scrap. Quick, too, to then close the distance that kept them from her increasingly desperate desire to feel and touch, to know the forms of those who would have her.

Unmistakeably male, both of them; the one behind taller than the one in front but only marginally so. He was also cooler against her unnaturally hot skin than his companion, a chilling thrill of hard muscle against her back, pressing himself to the cleft of her buttocks as his hands took possession of her aching flesh. The other urged quivering thighs to open, his mouth hot against the curve of her throat, biting down with human teeth to urge her first cry of delight from her lips.

They were thorough, meticulous, taking the time to explore her body for their own enjoyment, pushing her past the boundary her suspicions had set for her until she was putty in their hands, almost begging for the ecstatic torture to reach its inevitable conclusion. Slickness coated her body, her own and theirs, aiding the final goal as both took their pleasure from her willing form. Suspended by her wrists, caught by strong hands beneath her thighs, she threw back her head and screamed out the deliciousness of pain and pleasure combined, at the mercy of her unseen, unknown lovers' desires.

Yet, when the darkness dissipated, setting her to blinking in trembling, confused satisfaction, she found herself as she had been. Her uniform intact, alone in the passageway she had been traversing what seemed hours ago. Only the sheen of sweat and the unfamiliar scent of others on her skin betrayed that it had been anything but an hallucination. That, and the single black rose lying at her feet, wrapped about with crimson silk ... that same silk used to bind her.

She bent, savouring the abused ache of her limbs and joints as she took up the rose, only to discover a note had been left with it. Following the swirl of ornate, gothic script, Leda read what had been left for her to find.

"With any endeavor, you first must begin
With corrupted and decadent, glorious sin;
The first among equals, of equals the first,
The one wanting passion, the other a hearse.
Of names, we speak little; 'tis simply a game.
If more you would seek, you must answer the same.
Our first is in gorgon, but never in horn,
Our second not twilight, but always in morn,
Our third still is shared, the first of an ape,
Yet fourth does diverge where the riddle shall snake;
The first fourth in evil, the second in nap,
The first fifth in snail, the second in trap.
Our names now lie hidden for cunning to find,
For carnal devotion belies a keen mind;
If find us you do, the reward shall be great,
For the kiss of the goat man comes always too late."

She frowned thoughtfully, reading over the riddle once more before turning to retrace her steps back toward the common rooms and her own shared suite. So the trail had been meant for her to find ... and now she had to find those who had set this trap for her.

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-21 18:11 EST
Later
Part One

Still on the high of his win against Jacen, Jerry strutted around campus like he was on cloud nine. The only cloud in his otherwise sunny day was the realization that he and Patty were going to have to talk through the not so distant past instead of skating through and past it as if nothing had ever happened. By the time classes were over and he returned to his dorm room, his sunny mood was tempered down to quiet apprehension. He didn't know when "later" was, but he knew he had to be prepared. With his bag and robe tossed onto the bed, tie on the chair, shirt on the desk, trousers and belt on the floor in front of the bathroom and boxers and socks on the bathroom floor, Jerry took as quick a shower as he could muster.

Later turned out to be as soon as Patty had been released from her final class of the day which, fortunately for Jerry, was a full hour after he was freed. After dropping off her bag and feeding Wes the kitten, she made her way nervously to Jerry's room, hoping like hell his roommate was out or with her pups. They needed privacy for this. Loosening her tie, she lifted her hand and knocked, bouncing on the balls of her feet while she waited for an answer.

By that time, Jerry had been able to get out of the shower, get dressed in a pair of long shorts and flip flops, clean up the laundry and pace. When the door was knocked upon, he jumped and hurried to it. He pulled the door open quickly and stepped aside. "I was so worried you wouldn't come. I've missed you so much and I'm so sorry for every thing that's happened. Please don't be angry with me, Patty. I've never been so miserable in my life." He stopped his babbling to inhale deeply.

She held up her hands, violet eyes wide as he babbled on, jumping in at the first opportunity. "Jerry ..." She sighed softly. "We need to talk, okay? We both have things we have to say, and we're both pretty angry about it, so let's just ... let's just get it all out in the open and see where we go from here. Alright?"

Jerry nodded solemnly and reached down to pick up the papers he had sitting on the couch. "Have a seat? Fancy a drink?" Jerry wasn't going to argue; he wasn't angry any longer.

"Thanks ... uh, I'm okay for a drink, but thank you." Nodding as though her head might be able to wobble off, Patty slipped in through the door, letting it fall closed behind her, and shrugged out of her blazer, lowering herself to sit in the corner of the couch. She couldn't help it; she was angry, but the anger was for the deception more than the act itself. But fair was fair - he either didn't or wouldn't remember what had happened to her, so that was where she was going to start.

"I'm just gonna jump straight in at the deep end here, since you insist that I never said a word," she told him quietly. "About three weeks ago, Master Nil'aiha called me into his office to discuss my interest in his subject. And he gave me a demonstration of what enchantment can be used for. He cast a spell on me, or maybe he had the spell already in the chair, but ..." She blushed, but plunged on regardless. "I stripped down to my bra and practically begged to be touched. But it wasn't him I was begging, Jerry; he was wearing your face, I thought he was you. And then he just dismissed me like nothing had happened. I've never felt so humiliated in my life."

Jerry had been prepared with ice cold beer kept in a cooler. He didn't trust his magical skills enough yet to keep food warm or drinks cold. So he held two beers, one in each hand, as she began to speak. He listened and his face grew splotchy red with anger as he did so. When she was finally finished, he held out a beer for her. "I'm not angry with you, Patty. But that guy shouldn't be teaching if those are his methods. That was very unethical of him."

Her fingers wrapped around the beer he offered, but she didn't meet his eyes, deeply ashamed of herself. "He was making a point," she admitted. "I'm too suggestible not to pay attention to Enchantment. And he left a part of the spell going, too. I, uh, I'm gonna feel ... well, yeah, I'm gonna be easy to arouse until I learn how to block the damn thing."

Though he didn't realize he'd done it, Jerry had mastered being defensive. It didn't matter if the threat were physical or magical; when Jerry felt threatened, his defenses kicked in naturally to shield him. So, with that kind of experience to back him up, he set down his bottle of beer and wiped the condensation from his hands onto his shorts. "I think I can help you with that."

She shook her head, frowning a little. "We're not here to do magic tricks, Jerry; we're here to talk. I need to know why you accused me of being a slut in front of all those people when you know that I've never even let anyone touch me before." She stared at him, her expression confused. "Why would you say something like that?"

Jerry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't consider his defenses as "tricks" so that comment stung a bit. Still, he let it slide and he sat down upon the couch. "I don't know. I was angry and you didn't understand, you still don't understand. I wanted to hurt you, like you were hurting me." He looked up at her, a small frown upon his face, but his eyes shining with honesty. "You were acting like I went out and seduced a woman and then bragged about it to everybody but you. And that's as far from the truth as possible, Patty. I hid from the world, from you, even tried hiding from myself. I even thought about just leaving." He sighed and turned his head to eye the ground between his feet. "But I couldn't leave without seeing you again."

"Oh, god, Jerry, I never meant to hurt you," she shook her head again, setting her beer down. With a shuffle, she twisted on the couch, reaching out to take his hands in hers. "It's not that it happened; although I know I should be furious about the fact that after everything we promised each other, you were seduced by another woman. But that isn't what's hurting. It's the way you just turned yourself off; you stopped having time for me, you stopped even talking to me. I ... I thought I'd done something wrong, that maybe you'd decided I wasn't worth your time anymore. And even after finding out why, I can't help being hurt because I'm not good enough, because ... because I'm obviously not what you want, deep down."

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-21 18:12 EST
Later
Part Two

"No, no, no, no," he squeezed her hands and scoot closer to her. "It's not like that at all. At first she was a he and when he, I mean she, changed from a he to a she, I was fascinated that she, he, whatever, could do that. It wasn't her, it was her ability. I don't remember much of that night, it must have been some kind of spell. I spat out blue fur for a week. And really, blue fur? I like girls with soft skin and pretty hair. Just like you."

"So ... this he/she cat thing ... it used you?" Patty's jaw set into a stern line, angry on his behalf. His assurances did soothe her resentful feelings of hurt and betrayal somewhat, but nothing was going to brush them away entirely. Only time would tell if she would get over it entirely.

"I don't know. I mean, she was a she when we left the island, but a he when he tested my abilities. That's where I got throwing scythes at Jace yesterday. It's such a blur, Patty. I couldn't even tell you what we did honestly. All I know is I woke up aching from head to foot and spitting out blue fur."

She frowned, clearly not happy with this at all. "Well, someone needs to go and give that ... that thing a good talking to," she said heatedly. "How dare she do that to you? To us?"

Jerry's hand left hers to reach up and grasp her shoulder. "I just want to forget it ever happened. It's nothing that I'm proud of. I mean, I'm a guy. I should have been able to resist." He hung his head then and sighed heavily, his hand slipping from her shoulder into his lap. "I'm weak, Patty."

"You're a teenager, you were a virgin, and you were frustrated and distracted with something else," she reminded him fiercely. "It's disgusting to behave that way around anyone, especially when they're vulnerable."

"Even so," he lifted his head to look into her eyes. "I should have been able to resist. I've this wonderful ability to shield myself when things get scary. What happened to it? Why didn't it kick in?" He shook his head and set his mouth into a frown. "I don't think I'm good enough, strong enough, for you. And I'm not that much to look at, either."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're everything I want," Patty told him - such an instinctive reply that there was no chance of it ever having been fabricated. Her violet gaze was deeply sincere as she reached up, gently stroking his hair out of his eyes. "Would I still be here if you weren't?"

"Oh, Patty," he reached up to smooth her hand to his cheek. "You're every bit of every girl I've ever wanted and so much more than I've ever dreamed of. But I'm used goods now, and I broke your trust. How can you ever love somebody like me?"

A flicker of mischief made itself known in her gaze, just enough warning to let him know that what she was about to say was entirely for the benefit of lifting the mood. "Well, it'll be a struggle," she said in a wry tone, pursing her lips comically. "But I guess I'll just have to try, won't I?" A cheeky smile made itself known on her lips as she held his gaze teasingly.

Jerry searched her face as she spoke and he broke into a wide smile by the time she was done. "It'd be much appreciated, that try would." He couldn't resist the urge and he leaned forwards to kiss those comically pursed lips with his own set of pucker ups.

She giggled as he leaned in, her fingers sliding into his hair as her lips parted beneath his. Perhaps it was a little too enthusiastic for a reconciliation, but there was still Master Nil'aiha's spell to contend with for the witch from San Francisco.

Jerry wasn't quite prepared for that deep a kiss, but he wasn't going to question the Gods that had obviously shone their light down upon him this one time. His arms went around her and he held her tightly for the duration. When he was finally able to come up for air, he chuckled and put his forehead to hers. "Not that I'm complaining..."

Her eyes opened slowly to look into his, rolling as she picked up on his point. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she sighed. "Sweet and innocent, not to be corrupted. I'm familiar with the story, dude."

"Oh no," he leaned back with a grin on his face. "I just, well I know you're still under the influence of that spell. I want to help you to get rid of it. That way I know, and you'll know, that this is all for real and not the side effect of what Master Numbnuts did to you."

She sighed again, shaking her head. "I'm total crap at Abjuration," she complained, despite evidence to the contrary. "And it's not like it's making me feel like this ... it's just a little push to make it stronger." She sat back, rubbing a hand through her hair. "You're right, I know. It's not fair on you."

"Hear me out, ok?" He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and caressed her cheek in the process. "Let me help you, please?"

Her eyes flickered closed for a moment as she leaned into that gentle caress, taking a slow breath to calm her screaming libido down once again. "Okay."

Patience Powell

Date: 2011-07-21 18:14 EST
Later
Part Three

"Good," he whispered as she closed her eyes and he steadied his breathing to slow, even breaths. He never spoke above a whisper. "Imagine in your mind the spell as something tangible that you can wad up. A sheet that is covering you, veiling your true self. Can you see it?"

She bit her lip, stifling a giggle. His suggestion of a sheet had brought an image of him in nothing but her bed linen tottering through her imagination for a moment, a testament to just how distracted she was from studying of any kind right now. Letting out a low breath, she forced herself to stop laughing. "Okay, I can do this ..."

He could feel her urge to giggle and he took a deep breath, then blew it out. "Concentrate on that sheet. It's putrid, covered in entrails and nastiness. It reeks of body odor and old boots."

"That's revolting, Jerry," she objected, her nose crinkling in protest at the carefully doctored image she was settling into place in her mind.

"Exactly like the spell. Now imagine yourself crumbling that sheet into a ball. Use your mind to make it into a big wad of nastiness. Throw the nastiness away and don't let it come back."

Her brow rose at this, but she obediently did as she was told, imagining herself tossing all that disgusting imagery as far out of her mind as she could. "How is this supposed to work?"

"Open your eyes." All the while Jerry had been leading her through this, he'd been gently touching her shoulders and down her sides. "Do you feel it, anymore? Do you still feel the spell?"

Slowly, her eyes opened, her pupils dilating to tiny points as she looked into his eyes. Somehow her hands had come to rest against his thigh and chest. "I ... I don't know," she murmured, a slight frown on her brow. "I never feel it until I start ... well, you know."

"Then kiss me," he whispered and leaned close to press his lips to hers. His hands remained still upon her shoulder and side, only his thumb moving to stroke the material of her shirt against her soft skin.

She leaned into him, her lips touching his with rather more trust than perhaps either of them deserved at this point. A happy sigh left her as she kissed him, only to turn into a soft groan of frustration as the sweep of his thumb ignited sensations far too powerful for just that touch. Her lips left his as she shook her head, exasperated with herself. "No," she whimpered. "No, it didn't work."

Jerry leaned back and sighed. "Well, we tried. Maybe it was just too fast. I know that kind of thing usually works for me when I'm in a funk." He cant his head slightly and pulled back so his hands ended up in his lap.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, leaning back to curl up in a dejected ball. "Magic works differently for different people, you know? I guess I'm back to searching for an incantation or a potion or something."

"Well, you could give in to it," he suggested shyly. "Maybe that'll get rid of it." He shrugged and looked up at her. "I'd be willing to ... I mean, that is, if you were so inclined to try?"

She smiled fondly, her head tilting toward him. "I appreciate the offer, I really do," she assured him, "but you're right. It wouldn't be fair on you, you wouldn't know if I was reacting to you or the spell. I won't do that to you, Jerry."

"It's alright." He smiled and pulled her into a hug. "I've missed you, Patty." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, loving the smell of her hair and her clothes. "I don't want to fight, ever again."

She nestled into his hug, relieved that he wasn't angry with her for saying no. "I've missed you, too," she murmured, wrapping her arms about his waist. "But there will be fighting, you know. If only so we can try this make up sex I've heard people talking about."

"I hear it's quite something." He chuckled and held onto her a moment longer before leaning back and picking up his beer. It was warm by now, but he didn't care. "Thank you," he offered with a slight smile.

"Back atcha," she nodded to him, taking a sip of her own now warm and slightly flat beer. She was pleased that they'd talked things out, that they were back to the comfortable silence they had enjoyed before all this had blown up. But in the back of her mind that simmering anger was still present, promising a confrontation with this Khoom person very soon.

((Huge thanks to Jerry's player!))

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-22 15:47 EST
Mistress Vadten's tower

He was about to raise a hand to knock on the door of the Divination teacher's lair when it opened on its own, revealing her standing behind it, a look of calm patience on her features. Considering their one - and only - encounter had ended rather disastrously, the young demigod found this to be rather surprising. "Mistress Vadten. I -"

She raised a hand, cutting him off before he could begin. "Novice Balthazar, you have been banned from my classes. Were I another instructor at this Institute, you would not have escaped with so simple a punishment." The Vistani looks him up and down coolly, a slight smirk on her features. "However, I find your proposal to be intriguing enough to warrant a moment's consideration." Turning away from the open door, she walks back into the tower, leaving it open for him to follow.

For the first time in a long time, he was reminded of how annoying he's always found those of oracular perception. Few things are more vexing to him than to have someone already know what he's up to, though how he'd managed to slip the stunt he'd pulled on her to get him banned in the first place past her is, in its own right, a mystery to him.

But no less satisfying for that.

Still, he needed help from someone whose grasp of acquiring information exceeds his own - his personal project had hit a snag that his own knowledge couldn't seem to get past, and as someone had pointed out to him a few nights ago, divination is about more than knowing the future.

He followed her in, closing the door behind him as he went past, then climbed the stairs after her. Once they reached the classroom, she took seat behind her desk, looking at him with that same coolly assessing expression. "So. I gather you require my assistance with this little...project of yours, which I would not give, except that I can see you are coming to me with sincerity and humility. I must confess myself rather surprised, Balthazar. I did not think your kind were capable of either."

Suppressing the urge to bristle again at her for that remark, he drew up a chair and sat across from her. "I'm acting on the advice of a fellow student."

Her smile widened, one delicate eyebrow arching upwards. "That the sacred art of Divination is not solely about predicting the future? Perhaps if you had not made such a mess of things your first day, you might have learned that sooner." The smile turned mischievous then. "But then, I suppose, there are always some lessons which must be learned the hard way."

The young demigod gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he would rather be asking the teacher for help than to beg a favor of his father. It was hard enough to convince himself that Vadten was his best available option to prevent having to go to the Underworld and face the one that had sired him. "Perhaps, Mistress. I'm not here to apologize for that, in any case, though I will admit that you're right on one count - I have no interest in knowing the future."

The Vistani rolled her eyes. "I am aware of that, Novice. And while I personally find your reasoning on the subject flawed, I can see there will be no changing it, and therefore I won't try." She made a gesture for him to continue.

He only hesitated a moment, an expression of curiosity flickering over his features, before going on. "I wish to create a single book, from which I can access any book in creation. Enchanting the book isn't a problem - the problem I'm having is that -"

She cut him off again. "You can't access the books you want, and every time you try you get something random. If you try to access the Keys of Solomon, you end up getting a locksmith's textbook. When you ask for the Dead Sea Scrolls, you end up with Fishing for Dummies." A smirk showed on her features, looking rather impish for a moment. "Am I on the right track?"

His jaw had almost dropped to land in his lap as she spoke, and he closed it with an abrupt click of his teeth coming together as he nodded again. "Yeah, that's right."

Her smirk widened into a rather smug smile. "I did not get to my current position by not knowing the things I need to know, Balthazar." She turned serious again as she continued. "The first mistake you are making is that you are trying to contain the knowledge you want in a single vessel, which is impossible. You could not do it with a hundred books, or a thousand. You should not be trying to store the knowledge, when all you need to do is access it for as long as you need it - essentially making a temporary copy of whatever you need, for as long as you need it, then to be erased completely in order to make way for the next."

The young demigod listened carefully, nodding as he felt the smile of chagrin take over his features. That bit, at least, should have been obvious, and he felt the fool for having missed it himself. "And the second mistake is...?"

He could tell that his expression had not gone unnoticed by the Divination mistress, if her smug smile is anything to go by. "Your second mistake, young novice, is that you cannot simply create a single vessel to access all types of information - such things must be organized and focused, divided into specific categories, to avoid confusing the vessel and its enchantments. The vessel has to know precisely the type of information it is trying to acquire, and therefore you will likely need as many books as there are types of information you wish to acquire." The Vistani mistress gives him a stern look. "This is not a simple undertaking that you can just throw together on a whim, young Balthazar - it will take time, effort and focus, and I would recommend that after you speak with me, you should consult both Master Nil'aiha and Mistress Mistmark for further assistance."

The young novice frowned, looking both confused and apprehensive. "But I already know how to -"

And again he's cut off by the raised hand and stern expression of the Divination mistress. "You may have sufficient skill to do well in their classes, but this is not a task that is fit for your brand of improvisation. This project requires structure and discipline, and both will be able to properly instruct you on the correct methods of such an undertaking." Her lips twitched upwards in an abbreviated smile. "Though I advise you not to see Master Nil'aiha until the middle of next week. You'll find him easier to approach then."

He hates being cut off that way, but he did come to her for help. Suppressing his frustration for the time being, he just nodded. "Anything else?"

Mistress Vadten's eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but she went on anyway. "No, young Balthazar. This is an ambitious project you have embarked upon, and without the urging of any instructor. I will not admit you back into my classes if you successfully complete it - however, provided you follow my instructions to the letter, I will consent to giving my endorsement for your advancement, on one condition - if you are successful, you create a second set of these books for my classroom, identical in every way to those that you create." There was another smirk that quirked at her lips for a moment. "But leave out the random teleportation part that I already know you'll be putting on yours, if you please."

He thought about that for a second. It was a very good deal, in his estimation, and there's the fact that he would have one less thing to prevent him from moving on to the next year. "And if I'm not successful?"

The Vistani's answering smile is smug, with a hint of malicious intent. "I should think the answer to that would be obvious, Novice - you get nothing, and you shall have to find some way of advancing without my approval."

He'd suspected as much, and he answers her smile with one of his own, just as smug and self-assured, as he stood. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure I get it right." Turning, he made to leave, when he heard her clear her throat softly, bringing him to a halt. "Yes, Mistress Vadten?"

Her smug smile was wider. "There's a question you haven't asked, and I know you want to."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is?" The teacher merely sat in her chair, regarding him with that coolly amused expression, and finally he relented. "If you knew all of this before I came to see you today, how is it that I got away with what I did that first day?"

The Vistani shrugged, smiling back at him. "Because I didn't want you in my class causing havoc and disorder at every turn, which is precisely what you would have done. So I let you have your bit of fun, knowing full well that you would, eventually, have to come to me. If not for this, then to find out how you could make it with an automatic failure in my class." With a chuckle, she leaned back in he chair, regarding him thoughtfully. "I may not like you, Balthazar, but despite your faults you are a seeker after knowledge for the sake of knowing. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not encourage such a trait." With a dismissive wave, she stood and swept out of the classroom, leaving him to find his own way out.

Aolani Malvlasta

Date: 2011-07-24 10:17 EST
Sylvaticum Wing

She had no intentions of attending this Ball as she was uncertain of its politics just yet. As the newest inductee of House SatyrKiss, Brizia was still had yet to make any sense of the convoluted tangle of connections to be found within the school.

A glance down the hall revealed the impressive striding of Danilo as he exited and based on his attire it looked as if he would be attending the event. Ebonique had not bothered to return to her room for two nights and Khordan was incredibly quiet.

The roommates suited her and she hoped that they would remain at least partially permanent.

Using the peace and quiet to good order she gathered up her supplies and settled in for a night of studying. The Mistmarks had hit her with a fairly severe list of shortcomings that apparently demanded her attention if she were to ever consider succeeding.

At the same time her House had tasked her with a special task that needed some attending as well. She shivered as she remembered the potent heat in Veronique's eyes as she'd delivered her dire proclamation.

Brizia would succeed. It had now become her duty to see to it.

Tiatari

Date: 2011-07-24 10:31 EST
She'd expected to find him lacking.

In fact she'd counted on it, after all she was an advanced sorceress who was undoubtedly talented and alchemy had always been her focus.

Master Araiath was simply full of surprises.

"So you've attempted to distill the essence of tabuktan while simultaneously diluting the very fabric of the weave?" Her voice was incredulous, dove grey eyes wide as she focused on his attractive features.

"No, no. I've not attempted it." His grin was a quick flash of teeth as he waved off the words, "I've succeeded at it."

"You did not!" The Primorus Discipulus gasped aloud and rose out of her seat in surprise. The rustle of the long dark skirts drew attention to the ornately woven gown she wore, the corset shot through with silver and intricately embroidered.

She was a tad overdressed for an alchemy lesson as she'd been planning on attending the ViperFang Masquerade. Kinid had asked her to at least put in an appearance and she felt a warm surge of a reaction at the thought of the devilish elf.

"I most certainly did." The new Master of Alchemy contended, stroking a hand over the scaly head of his familiar.

"How did you manage to separate the--"

"The appropriate level of heat applied at the precise second of metamorphosis."

"But it dissipates as--"

"Stop thinking of it as the catalyst. It's not." He said smugly.

She blinked. "It's not? " And excitement sparkled about her youthful expression and the lovely Marchioness took a step toward him, "It's not! Oh I see it now! I get it!"

"I've always wanted to use it as an emollient in the Rashkasha's Elixir." She sighed as she contemplated an outcome only a person focused on alchemy could possibly understand.

The newest teacher at the IAP paused to consider her statement before leaping up from his spot as well, practically vibrating with intensity, "That is brilliant! Surely that would work. We shall have to see!"

Not hesitating once he was afire with an experiment in mind, he snagged Tia's wrist and dragged her down the hall, his familiar following along as they descended into the alchemical laboratory.

Danilo

Date: 2011-07-24 11:17 EST
The champagne had been insidiously clever. Meant to incite the reverse in behaviors in its targets. In this case the targets were the attendees of the Masquerade. Very few managed to get away with no effect, some with no ill effect and still others will be dealing with the damage for sometime to come.

Two such were Mage Korzha and Apprentice Pausanias. The two had drunk of the champagne early in the evening and its effects reared its head immediately. She, who was so reserved and quiet to the point of fear. He, who was reserved and knew he, could not hope to reach so high, no matter his lineage.

He had carried her back to his quarters without thought to his roommates. In truth, he was sure he only gave thought to Novice Rylos. Even now he was ignoring the rest as he closed the door behind him and gently deposited the slender woman on bed that dominated the room. He was purring deep in his chest and he shred the costume from his form. That he was perfectly formed was a gift of his lineage. It was not long before her own gown was in shreds.

The Simba crawled up the young woman?s length, brushing that downy fur along her silken flesh. He pinned her to the bed and kissed her with such a desire, a need. He had long denied himself, preferring the feelings to be genuine, and not because he had bought companionship. He could feel those hands coming up and exploring. He encouraged the touch, drinking her in. They were lost to the effects of the champagne and the desire?

Deep in the night, the champagne finally released it?s hold leaving them spent. The recriminations began to eat at them both. In his heart, he knew that this night was wrong, that the champagne had increased the passion.

Nemese made a soft sob out of fear. She was not promiscuous; she did not fall into any man?s bed. As the sobs wracked her slender form, gentle hands came up to cradle her. There was a soft murmur of comfort. He would not let her run from him, insisting on guiding her through the storm of emotions.

?Thea? will be angry.? She whispered through the tears.

The knuckles of his clawed hand come up to brush against the fading bruise on her cheek. ?(vq) Thea has much to answer for, little one.?

?What? now?? She was uncertain. No one had really ever shown her compassion.

?That is up to you.? He replied softly. He released her from his embrace allowing her to flee to the safety of her own chamber. Even though they had been under the influence, he would treasure the night that someone acted like he was a man, rather than a beast.

http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/34490162/id/pgynmwO24BGjbQNppH-38A/size/e.jpg

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-07-24 14:29 EST


Callisto had not yet managed to get herself to bed. Fraught as the evening had been developments made under the influence of potion or spell, the fallout as the effects had worn off had been even more so. The mage felt weary to her bones, yet there was still work to be done before she dared to take to her bed.

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that her suspicions were falling firmly on the head of the supposedly angelic side of the ViperFang Overseer. Who else had she not seen openly last night? Cinder Haveloche, that was who. And unless things had changed markedly in the eighteen months since she herself had been a part of that House, the vampire harbored a resentment against Iameth that bordered on fanatical, though he was careful to keep it to himself. If he had brought suspicions against Iameth to Ashriel, then the angelic Overseer would certainly not be above sabotaging an event to keep his demonic half from enacting his own plans. Added to this was the impotent surprise of Iameth when he had finally entered, and Callisto's suspicions hardened into a coldly furious promise of revenge.

They had encountered Benedykt while she was herding the group back to the SatyrKiss lounge, not prepared to trust any of them until their senses had been returned to them. Unfortunately, it had not gone well for the Air Elementalist; he had sought out Veronique openly, in front of almost the entirety of the House, and in her influenced state, she had harshly mocked him, pushed him away, insulted him in a manner that Callisto had not actually thought her capable of. And while at the time Emilina and her inner circle of cronies had pouted and expressed concern, the influence of the spell insisted that they were crowing with delight over this development. And that Veronique had shown her hand in front of her innermost enemy.

The divisions with House SatyrKiss were now openly hostile - the Overseer and Emilina, so close and loving to one another under the influence of Ashriel's little trick, had fallen to open sniping in the SatyrKiss lounge. The men, usually so helpful in separating the pair, had withdrawn into themselves, each as horrified as the other by their behaviour in the ViperFang ballroom. It had been left to Callisto, a mage, to separate the sorceresses before they managed to claw one another's eyes out. A lot of words had been spoken under the influence that could not now be taken back; a lot of plans divulged which would now have to be abandoned and changed.

It was only now, in the hours after dawn, that Callisto could return to her own rooms, and let her mind rest upon the consequences of the evening as they pertained to her. Oh, the personal consequences had already been dealt with; the pair who had manhandled her had been marked with her own special brand of illusion. Lucian Koth, who had pursued her vulnerable self through the ballroom, would suffer the sneers of his peers when they saw that his face, formerly so lovely to look upon, was ravaged by open acne scars, his nose broken hideously.

And Grant Palamine, the ViperFang apprentice who had dared to use her for his own pleasure atop a table in full view of everyone ... Callisto had given him something worse to contend with. Open, weeping sores covered his body, yet he himself could not see nor feel nor smell them. However, anyone who came within ten feet of the sensuous pleasure-seeker would be hard pressed not to gag and vomit at the sight and scent of him.

And these illusions would last, maintained by her will, until both males sought her out to apologise sincerely for their behaviour. This was Callisto's accustomed revenge on those who acted not under their own will - had either of them been under their own influences, they would not yet even be aware that she was planning anything.

Still, she was glad to only have taken one sip of the champagne. Those who had drunk deeply seemed to only just be coming out of the spell cast upon them. But at least she had drunk - if the murder promised by the Cambion's eyes had been anything to go by, Chika already knew who had not and was planning her revenges, be they justified or not. Callisto had enough problems without having to deal with a vengeful, unthinking assassin.

But for all her loss of dignity the night before, for all the wounds to her pride that being forced into the role of weak and witless female had given her, she was surprisingly well content with the events of the night. ViperFang never failed to deliver the unexpected blow, and though the perpetrator might never know it, the fissures opening in the hierarchy of House SatyrKiss may yet bear profitable fruit for the necromantic illusionist.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-07-24 15:12 EST
He woke to find his bed - and chamber - empty of the half-breed, but despite that he couldn't help but smile, for a number of different reasons. At least half of them are why his private quarters are in a shambles - Leda certainly made it clear that, while she didn't mind being confined, if she weren't chained down, she preferred to be pinned to any available surface. Or maybe it was all of them?

Either way, he'd been more than willing to oblige, to the point that - when they finally found themselves sated - he'd found his muscles deliciously sore, his bedchamber a wreck, and not more than a few items broken when they'd been swept aside to make a flat surface available.

Not even a note of thanks for the use of his rooms for the night to avoid possibly being molested by the GorgonHorn Overseer after the events of last night. With a grin as he stood and stretched, he reflected to himself that it was just like the Hellspawn, with her rather intimate way of seeming impersonal.

And speaking of last night.

He pulled on a robe as he walked into the working space. When he had first arrived it had been empty, meant to be adjusted to the needs of the resident; since arriving he had carefully conjured several items for it. Exercise equipment, three chests of drawers, a workstation that looks like he might have pilfered it from a chemistry class, a desk with a computer and printer (because he hated writing by hand more than for entertainment), and an empty space in the middle for conjuring and magical circles. He approached the middle chest, pulling open the second drawer down to reveal a jumbled assortment of raw, dark crystals, from which he selected five sizable amethysts before closing it again.

Walking around his private quarters, as he placed the crystals along the walls, he reflected to himself that he might have thought of doing this sooner, and would have, but there's been no need to have privacy - no one had any reason to spy on him.

But with the project he's going to be working on for the Divination mistress, and more immediately for what he'll be doing in a moment, he wanted to ensure that there would be no way for someone to peek in on him.

Once the last crystal was set, he returned to the middle of his quarters, snagging his spellbook along the way and pulling from it a loose sheet of paper from the replication spell he'd written in it, and set to work, drawing out a very basic pentacle of protection, then setting it afire on the floor, watching it burn and bloom into a much larger copy engraved into the floor of his room. As it is drawing itself out, he speaks in his other voice, the voice of the god within.

"Ap? ?na dom?tio me th?a se ?na thisavrofyl?kio tou aporr?tou,
As min ako?sei ta afti?, as mi doun ta m?tia."

As the last word reverberates in the air of his chamber, the five amethyst crystals, and the pentacle itself, glowed a brilliant violet for a moment, then faded again. Satisfied that the ward is set sufficiently to keep out prying ears and eyes from any source, he turned for his work space, sitting at the desk and turning on the computer. As soon as the word processing program came up he set to work, his fingers fairly flying over the keys.

He's at the desk for some time, typing away, only halting to use the bathroom or fetch himself a glass of water, and once finished he sat back, reading over what was written.

Ramblings From the Asylum
The Unofficial Newsletter of the IAP

ViperFang Masquerade a Success (of some kind)

Last night, for the first time ever, House ViperFang opened its doors to all comers on the eve of its traditional, annual Masquerade Ball. What promised to be an evening of opulence, intrigue and mystery by the notorious House most notable for kicking you when you're down did not disappoint in the least, as we will show in this, the inaugural edition of the Institute's first underground newsletter.

It began with champagne and hors d'ouvres in the grand cavaedium preceding the main ballroom. The decor of this room was much like one might expect of any house, glorifying its members and accomplishments with finely detailed painting and sculpture. Perhaps the most unique touch was the ma?tre d's of choice for the evening, several well-trained, overly large serpents which had apparently been trained to carry trays of food and drink with unerring grace so that nothing was spilled or even trembled at their movement throughout the room.

Following this was the entrance into the Great Hall itself. Decorated with such style and opulence that even the noble house of SatyrKiss would be hard-pressed to match (let alone exceed), the embellishments included a hovering dais in the middle of the dance floor, a twenty-six man orchestra playing a rich variety of music, decorative magical lamps of ever-changing color to match the tunes, and food and drink to tempt any and all comers no matter what type of creature they might have been.

Unfortunately, and perhaps predictably, this event being hosted by the most Machiavellian of Houses created such an undercurrent of suspicion that much of this seemed to have gone unnoticed. However, in the hours to come, many would find their fears well-founded.

It all began with a toast, to which everyone was invited to drink, as the four House Overseers and their escorts mounted the hovering dais, which ascended to bring them over the heads of the gathered partygoers as Ashriel, Overseer of House ViperFang, proceeded to open the ball with a toast which seemed to promise that the evening's festivities would be congenial and pleasant.

"Good evening, and thank you all for attending the Annual Viperfang Masquerade Ball. In years past this has been an event isolated away from the rest of the school, accessible by only those of the House and its members. But as Magic has taught us all, things change. Evolve. Progress. And in order to keep ourselves afloat in these times, we too must follow the trends of progression," the Overseer began as the dais hovered symbolically over the crowd. "In order to keep ourselves afloat in these times, we too must follow the trends of progression, and this is why we felt that it was important to invite all of you, despite which House you may or may not be affiliated with, along with your Overseers to help us make this event so much grander than it has been in years past, and I am honored that you choose to attend."

At this point the serpentine servants - this time each wearing an ivory bowtie - made their way about the room to distribute goblets of champagne in decorative glasses each displaying the symbols of all four Houses for the toast, and once everyone had their glass, the ViperFang Overseer continued, complementing the other House Overseers, the efforts of those in his House for the decor, and finally the partygoers at large for attending, for "stripping away the preconceived notions of times past, for peeling away the suspicion and trepidation that has held our Houses apart for so long, and for wanting to see to a brighter future, with allied Houses awaiting us on the Horizon," as he so eloquently said, before finally raising his glass higher and toasting "to Unity."

At this point nearly everyone imbibed the champagne, save perhaps a few, and it was then that the Overseer of ViperFang and that of StormSabre promptly took their leave, perhaps to indulge other appetites. The unity that was toasted to, however, would be very short-lived.

At this point it was unknown that something had been slipped into the drinks, but there could be little doubt as nearly all those who had taken a drink began to act most strangely. Many who had been peacefully civil - at least outwardly - began openly hostile, while others who are known for their quiet confidence were reduced to blubbering, simpering wrecks of their former selves.

Among the notable events which occurred was the open defilement of a member of the SatyrKiss house by a member of ViperFang, along with a few others; a member of ViperFang attempting an all-out catfight with a student of StormSabre; the Overseer of House GorgonHorn walking about the room, hitting on every male that appeared without an escort like a drunken slattern; two members of house ViperFang, known for their overt hostility and manipulative scheming ways, becoming quite friendly with all those at the party (to the point of approaching some they reputed to despise just moments before); and the retirement of other partygoers to more private settings to indulge their lustful sides.

Fists were thrown, harsh words spoken, and chaos ensued, much to the enjoyment - or derision - of those unaffected.

Which leads this writer to question the veracity of the toast made at the beginning of these festivities. As Ashriel was seen to have imbibed the elixir along with nearly everyone else, it leads one to wonder what the motivation was behind this trickery. Perhaps an experiment? Or maybe an elaborate ruse to foment further ill-will amongst the members of the other houses towards each other? Or else might the person who spiked the drinks might simply have wished to see an already-interesting party made that much more exciting?

It is hard to say, and all speculation at this point, but it does beg the question: What will the aftermath of this grand design be?

This ball was seemingly meant to foster unity and congeniality between the Houses, and on the surface perhaps that seemed a laudable goal for the House that only ever seems to be looking out for itself.

After the events of last night, the Houses may very well be unified.

But to what purpose and which houses, only time will tell.

Satisfied that the wording was correct and efforts had been made to keep it as anonymous as possible, he printed out several dozen copies and took them over to the pentacle, setting them in the middle and speaking over them in that rolling, thunderous voice.

"Sko?pise apallagm?ni ap? k?the ?chnos, ?so pio fr?sko vroch? ?noixi,
Ap? ti symmetoch? mou af?sei t?pota na parame?nei."

The stack glowed with a muted green light for a moment, then faded again, leaving only a hint of the scent of earth after a fresh rain, erasing all traces of his involvement in this little endeavor. Then, with a wave of his hand, they stack dispersed.

From GorgonHorn to StormSabre, from one end of the school to another, on walls, doors, and stacked neatly in common rooms, the newsletter would appear with no trace of where it came from or who authored it to be found.

With that accomplished, the young novice sat back on his couch, reclining with a satisfied smile on his features.

Let the chaos ensue.

Khordan Rhylos

Date: 2011-07-24 15:33 EST
The Infirmary



"Now, tell me if you can see anything?" The words rang from his right, and Khordan turned his head to look that way. He blinked, but it did nothing to drive away the fog that covered his vision.

"Everything's just a blur." He said, blinking again. The clicking of Mistress Evahlys's tongue sounded much louder than it really was, her hands moving to tilt Khordan's head upward. A second later he was blinking again, this time from the drops she had put into his eyes.

"Hold still a moment, and your vision should clear. Khordan nodded, and remained sitting on the edge of the bed as the head of the institute's infirmary moved about the ward. Inwardly he was cursing the dark luck of being too close to the beaker station in Master Ariaith's class when one decided to explode. Luckily he hadn't been hurt overmuch by the flying glass, except for a cut on his cheek that Mistress Evahlys had taken care of quickly, but the concoction within had splashed into his eyes, blinding him. Evahlys had set him to one of the infirmary's beds overnight, a poultice wrapped over his eyes.

"Have you heard anything about the masquerade?" He turned his head toward the noise he was hearing, and was happy to see that the blurriness was fading. Mistress Evahlys glanced over to him, then moved to check his eyes.

"Oh, there are all sorts of stories and rumors about the party, and I'm certain you'll hear everything and more soon enough." Apparently satisfied with what she saw, Evahlys urged Khordan to his feet, holding a small bottle out to him. "You can go back to your rooms now, and I expect you to rest fro the afternoon. Use these drops every two hours, and you'll be fine for your classes tomorrow morning." Khordan looked at the small bottle and nodded.

"Thank you, Mistress Evahlys." But the healer had already turned to another in her care, leaving him to head out and back to Sylvaticum Wing. he didn't see many about, and chuckled softly to himself, guessing it had been one hell of a party. The bold wording at the top of the paper he found tacked to the door of Sylvaticum seemed to confirm, and he promised himself to read it once his sight finished recovering, setting the paper on his desk before finding repose in his own bed.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-07-24 17:01 EST


Quillyan rolled out of bed.

Literally.

At the prod of her waking spell, the novice -- half-tangled in sheets, head throbbing, and attired only in her underwear -- was so terribly startled that she inadvertently shifted off the edge of her bed, managing only to get a single leg free to brace herself for the inevitable impact of the unforgiving stone.

The linens came with her, being as they were: knotted in those lengthy limbs. ?S**t,? she muttered, though not loudly enough to disrupt a still-slumbering roommate. Daylight had yet to break beyond the horizon.

And for a moment, she merely laid on the floor beside her bed in the pre-dawn darkness, willing reality to depart again so she could just steal a couple more hours of sleep. Rumpled red silk pooled on the floor beside her, the thoughtlessly-doffed dress reminding her of the previous night?s misfortune.

Had she and Cadence really fought in the middle of the Masquerade?

?S**t,? Quillyan muttered again, snaking svelte arms free to press palms to her dully-aching eyes. ?S**t, s**t, s**t.?

Why had she been so angry? Why had the sweet little bard been so angry? And why in the world had they ended up as such a spectacle? Why hadn?t she just stayed in to study, like she had been planning?

(Because you wanted to see the ViperFang ballroom; because you wanted to dress up and look pretty and flirt with attentive, attractive men; because you wanted some excitement that didn?t include sea-monsters in catacombs.)

Quillyan tiredly shifted to all fours and finally to her feet, wrapped the sheets around her shoulders, and glumly padded to the shared bathroom. Despite her groggy displeasure, her own reflection in the mirror almost inspired her to laugher. Carefully-arranged loose curls were in wild, wanton disarray, her makeup was only mildly smeared, her low-lidded, tired eyes were still traced with surprisingly sultry liner.

For the moment, she definitely looked the part of the party girl.

Amused by this idea, she let the sheets fall away from her shoulders, studying herself in only the brief crimson lace of her underthings. She turned to the side, placing her hands provocatively on her hips, or the leanness of her middle, striking a couple of playful poses as she marveled at this strange reflection.

She loved it.

She hated it.

Well, it certainly wasn?t her...or was it? What would Master Tracha think if she (the normally clean-faced, ponytailed girl) arrived looking like this for their sojourn back into the catacombs? One thing was for certain: when they arrived at the Tomb of Cynric, she was bound to be in horrific trouble, so some suggestive grooming certainly couldn?t hurt, could it?

Quillyan hoped not, for she was running out of time, and if she didn?t dress soon, she?d be late to meet the evocation instructor. And thus her decision was made - the temptingly-tousled girl curtailed her grooming to merely brushing her teeth and tugging on a clean uniform.

And as she dashed from the chamber into the deserted hallways, the novice was all the while trying to quell her fear that last night?s fiasco was only a warm-up to today?s tribulation.

Sweet Dreaming

Date: 2011-07-24 19:33 EST
The hybrid had made sure that the young Mercedes Caine had returned safety to the Infirmary. The curse human had fought her all the way due to the effects of the elixir. Mercedes?s sweet little mouth was cursing up the storm. She was still shaking when the hybrid had made her sit down. The head nurse came and looks at the trembling second year. ?Did you do this?? Stern words were giving to the hybrid.

?No, My Lady.? Noting the sternness of the words. ?I believe Viper fang did.? Bring up the glass of champagne to the head nurse?s view. ?Well, the overseer.?

Mistress Evahlys glanced at the glass. ?So this caused this?? The Hybrid nod. ?Did you drink?? The older woman?s eyes dart to Alyssa and then the trembling Mercedes.

?No, Mistress.? Alyssa?s brown eyes fall on Mercedes. ?Can you reverse the effects?? Heading to get a blanket to cover Mercedes?s shoulder.

?I can try?. Or make the potion to help her. Do you know have been affecting her?? The older woman?s eyebrow when she saw the hybrid notice taking care of the second year. ?You act like you had bitten her.?

Alyssa froze when she heard this. ?I did?.? She admitted. ?And I don?t know what is affecting her.?

?NOVICE!.? The older woman growled out. ?You will not feed on this student or another student. You might have done a good deed about brought Miss Crane down here. Your mentor will hear about this. Now get out, I got work to do.?

-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------
Alyssa turned and moves toward her dorm room. Stripping out of her ball grown and her mask regarded on the desk. Needing to feed soon, her brown eyes were still brown, instead of the blue. She had blood wine under her bed but instead of going to it, changing into her wolf and laid across her bed.

Jolie growled. ?You better not get any hair on my belongs, Abomation.? Only movement made by the wolf was the ears moved toward the annoying vampire. ?You are filthy, you hear me. You need to be killed for the abonmation you are.?

Now the hybrid made a movement, changing into her vampire form with a little lycan mixed in. Which caused her fingernail grow long and sharp. Alyssa?s hand moved around the vampire?s throat and tightening. Nails dig in, drawling the blood of the cold creature. ?You listen to me, Jolie. If you ever call me that again, I swear I will ripped your throat. Your sire isn?t anything like mine. My family name is one of the best.? Alyssa?s words growled out, deep in her throat. ?You have nothing on me. You are beneath me.?

Jolie hissed out when her neck is grabbed. Her eyes narrowed at the pissed out hybrid. ?You will pay for this.? Jolie growled out. ?You will pay for this?..filthy. You are nothing. You hear me.? Alyssa growled. Nails strike out and slice the front of Jolie?s chest.

Alyssa turned and moves out of the dorm room, running down the hall, changing into her red wolf form to the nearby forest. She needs to hunt and kill something soon. She wanted blood soon. Ears held to the back of her skull, lifting up her red muzzle and howl.

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Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-07-25 17:09 EST
The hours dwindled away, ticking their tock in subdued resonance as bodies became shallow to the point of solitude. The ballroom was closed, the cavaedium empty, and the halls vacant. House Viperfang was calm, much like a serpent's nest, with only a handful of wizards roaming about in the final preparation of a night's work.

The lounge was where Iameth found himself, a stipendiary of Isabel Hawthorne's eager lips. She had desperately wanted to attend the ball with him and promised many rewards if he agreed, though the Sorcerer's agenda did not include her and thus left her awaiting his return for nearly the entire night. Upon his return she greeted him with a pouty tirade, and yet it didn't take long to persuade her to lay across his lap and enjoy his flesh.

Normally such an effort was rewarded with throbbing length and the insurgence of his most sinful gift, but he found himself utterly bored with her attempt. Thoughts constantly drifted back to the evening's start and his emerging metamorphosis from the internal slumber inside of Ashriel. He had awakened in mid-thrust, his masculine hips nestled into the parted thighs of Stormsabre's Overseer, Fleur Rousseau. Apparently, she and Ashriel had been crowning the success of their date in the most intimate fashion when that fated hour struck, leaving the Jikininki to continue the efforts of the relinquished Archon.

He expected her abhorrence along with a retreat, and found himself startled when she drew his mouth to hers to sample the twin tongues lurking behind his fangs. Eager and energized, she locked her heels upon his naked backside and drove him deeper in to her, coaxing him onward with wicked words - promises of splendor upon his release. Suspicion arose, though it was diminished by the series of violent culminations that wracked her ripe and throbbing body; an undeniable confession to the elation spawned from his sensual domination between her legs.

At its conclusion she fell across his bare chest, exhausted and unconscious, as he lay spent beneath her. Plans were to be followed, though, and after slipping away he made his way out and warded the door to keep her inside, determined to return and proceed. When he had come back, the wards had been broken and she was gone.

"Iameth?" Isabel asked as her head inclined, the back of her thumb sliding across the corner of her mouth. "What's wrong?"

"Sorcerer." He corrected her with a sigh before adding. "You should go."

"But, we haven't even-"

"You heard the Sorcerer." Came a grim voice from the side. "You should go."

Her silken blonde head whipped around to view the speaker and found the hard form of Cinder Havenloche only a foot away. The sight sent a quiver shooting along the length of her spine. Gasping as she turned and gave the Vampire her back, she quickly refastened the allotment of buttons that exposed her lacy bra and the breasts held within.

Silence became a heavy weight, and when it appeared that the young girl was awaiting Iameth's response to what she perceived as an outlandish intrusion, he turned and looked her deeply in the eyes. "He meant you."

Standing, Isabel smoothed down the lines of her skirt and turned narrowed eyes upon Iameth, weighing her options. She looked as though she would verbally lash out at any moment, though in the end she merely tilted her chin upward in weak defiance. "I'll see myself out."

The click of heels became more faint with her growing distance, and when the door at the top of the stairs was clicked shut, Cinder turned his saffron eyes upon the Sorcerer. "We have much to discuss."

"Do you ever get tired of talking?" The Sorcerer asked as he stretched out across the chaise, his curiosity obviously rhetorical.

"In all honesty I can tell you there are plenty of times I have wished that talking was not the only alternative. However, with what transpired at the ball, it seems only fitting that we take a moment to converse."

"Very well." Iameth sighed. "Proceed."

The Vampire strode silently around the couch, keeping his gaze focused on the pupiless stare of the Sorcerer. "First and foremost, I will arrange the wards to keep Novitiate Balthazar and Nyx from entering the House again."

Iameth's laugh was haughty and rich. "You'll do no such thing."
"I don't think it's too farfetched to believe there is animosity brewing. An attack could be imminent."

"Doubtful." He replied as he suddenly stood, leathery wings unfurling with each step taken toward the small bar across the room. "Peacocks showing their feathers, my friend. Nothing more. Balthazar is a demigod, a superiority complex is expected. Miss Nyx is a half-fiend slave, if memory serves. How can you expect her not to thrive when riding a sense of recklessness? That little showdown was nothing more than jostling. You shouldn't heed it any further."

"I'm not fond of overlooking such things."

Iameth drew forth a bottle of brandy and speared the cork with the claw of his index finger. With a pop it was alleviated and for a moment Iameth reveled in the aroma of the newly opened libation. Slowly he turned a look toward Cinder. "You will in this matter."

"Very well."

The clink of the bottle touching the glass was heard just moments before the liquor followed. A few fingers deep was enough and the selection was returned to its spot upon the shelf. "Since you are so interested in penal insights, perhaps we should start in house. While my arrival was belated, it seems that I did so just in time to catch the gist of the evening. Any idea what transpired?"

Cinder shook his head. "No clue. The Overseer said nothing to me about any...agendas."

"The impetus of the night did not come from our house, Cinder. Of that I am certain."

"How so?"

"Because of the effects it had on the members of Viperfang. Grant. Cadence. Bryn. Chika. Grail. They were all affected. While Ashriel might be cunning enough to design such an occurrence, he would never jeopardize the wellbeing of those he Oversees." The way that the Sorcerer said the last part made it sound as though he spoke of a weakness.

...which Cinder took mild offense to. "Seems an admirable trait in any leader."

Iameth smirked in response. "Perhaps, though in this case that trait frees him from suspicion."

"And what of you?" The Vampire asked as he tracked the fiend with his grim stare. "Are you free from accusation?"

Iameth's laugh was condescending, a trademark chortle spilled from delectable lavender lips. "Fear not, Mage Havenloche, for I am free of guilt. I can assure you, had there been an elixir administered to the champagne by my hands it would have resulted in an outcome far more enjoyable." He paused, stealing a sample of the silken brandy before adding. "...and naked."

Cinder showed no outward expression, though did concede to the Sorcerer's logic. Had Iameth been the culprit, the night would have surely resulted in just as much screaming and hair pulling, only with a different conclusion.

"With that said, it is imperative that we ensure that all of our brethren have returned to their previous states of mind. It would not do us any justice to have lingering effects from this night."

"Concern, Iameth? I'm surprised."

"Always concerned." The fiend said through a sinful grin that showed vicious fangs. "This is my House, after all."

"Very well."

"Excellent. With my late arrival I missed much and am certain that the others will be able to fill in the details. If you wouldn't mind handling Grant, Grail, and Cadence, I'll see to Chika, Bryn, and Elizabeth." Tossing back his head, Iameth downed the remainder of his libation. This simple action poured his thick sable locks between the strong set of wings protruding from just below his shoulder blades, and caused glossy black horns to catch the light of the flickering fire.

A pensive light found the aging hue of Cinder's eye. "I would see to Apprentice Barron."

Iameth placed the glass upon the bar and had just started to turn when the words of the Vampire registered. Slowly he spun back, pupiless eyes narrowed dangerously upon the Mage. Again there was that grin, painted with iniquitous mischief. "Would you now? Is there something I need to be made aware of?"

"Not at all." The low baritone of Cinder's voice was ancient and refined. "We simply have rapport. I would not handle a creature as jovial as Novitiate Smyth nearly as well."

There was suspicion lingering in his diabolical gaze, though ultimately he answered with a shrug. "Perhaps, though such an encounter between the two of you would be...entertaining...to watch" The tips of twin tongues emerged to lick across those succulent lips. "Very well. Chika, Cadence, and Elizabeth are mine, the rest are yours." He spun, his lazy stride carrying him toward the archway that led to the stairs. "In fact, I think I'll go and visit the songbird right now."

Statuesque, Cinder remained perfectly still. While he might not have been following the departure of the Sorcerer with his eyes, that did not mean he didn't track his every step. If Cinder was to find out who was responsible for the outcome of the Ball then he would have to do so on his own. Iameth would be no help, and Ashriel would not return until morning.

He snarled at his options, enamored with none of them.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-07-25 19:12 EST


" ... truly do regret my actions on the night of the masquerade, Mage Fairbourne. I would be forever in your debt if you could but find it in yourself to forgive my appalling behaviour while under the influence of the spell administered to us all."

Lucian Koth was almost begging as he hurried to keep up with Callisto. She had the distinct impression that if she stopped walking, he might even throw himself on his knees before her. It was a very gratifying sensation, albeit tempered by the fact that the only reason he was this desperate for her forgiveness was to have the illusion scarring his handsome face removed.

At the portal to Anise Wing she came to a halt, turning smartly to face him. Her expression was unreadable, a far cry from the overly emotional wreck glimpsed in the ViperFang Ballroom.

"Apprentice Koth, your behaviour that evening was unacceptable," she informed him in a cool voice. "It will not be forgotten quickly. But you have accepted responsibility for your actions and apologised for them. This pleases me." She waved her hand before his face, lifting the illusion. "Now go away."

She didn't wait for his profuse thanks, stepping through the portal doorway and closing it in his face. Such abject grovelling to have his beauty returned to him ... perhaps she had misjudged the brilliant mind hidden behind bright eyes. Clearly his looks meant far more to him than she had previously thought.

"Callisto," a familiar voice drawled as she passed through the common area of the wing toward her rooms. She turned, blinking in surprise to find Benedykt standing in the centre of the room, his ice-cool expression trained directly upon her.

"Benedykt, you know I am not supposed to speak to you," she pointed out mildly, one hand gesturing for him to follow her into her private - and warded - rooms. With a quiet command, she sent her familiars scurrying from the seating area, allowing time for the wards to reseal themselves around the now closed and locked door. Benedykt, however, was not so patient.

"She's rejected me," he declared suddenly, throwing his hands wide as he paced back and forth before the bay windows. "Not content with casting me out before everyone, oh no, now she has openly turned against me! You were there, you heard what she called me, what she said to me! And all because of this ... this ..."

His fingers hesitated before touching the ugly scarring that now touched his face. There was a still, awkward moment as the Elementalist choked down his own revulsion, turning on Callisto in fury. "She spoke to you, I know it. Everyone talks to you. Calli, I have to know. I have to know what is going through Veronique's mind."

"You are asking me to betray a confidence, Benedykt," the necromantic illusionist told him calmly, slipping past him to fold her elegantly-limbed form into one of the high-backed armchairs. "Words spoken to me in confidence are expected to remain just so. To repeat whatever Veronique has said to me would be to slip a blade between her ribs."

"This is me, Calli," her fellow mage pleaded, perching on the edge of the chair opposite her. "I adore her, I always have. I won't abandon her to Emilina's scheming and cronies, not unless ..."

"... not unless she first abandons you," Callisto finished for him, dark eyes studying his face without any sign of the public revulsion for his maiming she had shown before.

"Benedykt, you cannot expect your life to remain the same now. You have been cast out of your House; the Overseer cannot acknowledge that you ever existed. I have heard it said from her own lips that she will never again deign to recognise your existence." She leaned forward, her tone smooth and gentle even as she spoke the cruel words. "You are an embarrassment to her position, dear boy, a public sign of her failure. If she is to stay in power, then you must be dead to her."

The Air Elementalist stared at her in silence. Callisto watched as the conflicting emotions rode starkly across his eyes; disbelief, shock, dismay, pain, disgust ... and anger. It was the anger that took hold; a cold, icy grasp of furious emotion that wormed its way deep.

"So she truly does care more for power and position than any single being," he spat suddenly, his lip curled in a disgusted sneer. "I've been a fool, Calli. I thought she might care for me - love me, even. But I see it all now." He snarled, his pale fists clenched against the arms of his chair. "She used me. Used me to bolster her position, her powerbase. And the moment I became useless to her, the moment Emilina returned and showed her what true grace and power looks like, she threw me away. Not only that, she stripped everything from me. Malicious, spiteful, power-hungry b*tch."

He subsided into ever darkening thoughts, all the while under Callisto's watchful eyes. She said nothing to assuage his sense of betrayal; after all, he had been betrayed, and it had been entirely for Veronique's gain. She would not compound the problem by betraying confidences; all she had told him, he could have learned from another source. But she should not have been surprised by his arrival. For months she had been his confidante; why should that have changed now?

"You will be punished for seeing me," Benedykt told her hours later, in the moments before she moved to open the door and see him out. "You know this."

Callisto laughed softly, shaking her head. "Oh, my dear boy," she assured him, one hand reaching up to deliberately caress his maimed cheek, "since when has any form of punishment ever prevented my doing exactly as I wish?"

He leaned into her hand, the naked expression of shocked longing in his eyes almost embarrassing to behold. It had been a carefully calculated move, to touch his scarring, proving to him that she, at least, cared not so much for looks as some others did. She had not expected him to react quite so fiercely to a touch that he would not even give to himself. Benedykt gripped her hand, pressing a fervent kiss to her palm, and slipped from view, leaving her alone once again.

Callisto sighed softly, her mind turning over all that had been said and done and intimated, moving to her writing desk. From a secretly warded compartment, deep in the bowels of the desk itself, she withdrew a small silk bag, tied shut with a drawstring of gold cord. Within were nestled rose petals, each as fresh as the day they had been plucked from the flower, each such a dark crimson they might almost have been black.

She took one from the bag, returning it to its hiding place and warding it once again. Then, the petal grasped between her fingertips, she turned toward the hearth, where a small but enthusiastic fire was dancing merrily in the grate, staving off the natural chill of stone walls. Lowering to her knees, she brought the petal to her lips, pressing a firm, needy kiss to its velveted underside, leaving behind the mark of her own lips in the dark hue.

Tilting her hand, she blew softly, and watched as the marked rose petal floated tenderly through the air, only to be consumed by the dancing flames. And in the moment of its consumption, it took with it a fervently whispered plea.

"I need guidance. I need you."

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-07-26 01:17 EST
Grant and Grail were well, each of the apprentices chiefly rid of the effects of the tainted champagne. The prior, of course, still displayed the articulation of Callisto?s malice with a horrifically-mutilated visage, and the other stung from Cadence?s wholehearted rejection at the Ball, but neither of these plights were enduring or particularly harmful. A moment with each was enough to satisfy Mage Havenloche.

Bryn Barron was his final charge for the evening, her visit coming at the conclusion of his rounds for a variety of reasons, though none more prominent than the simple fact that his ?rapport? with the lovely necromancer was slightly more complex than with other students, and despite his controlled, aloof disposition, he was able to find a sort of twisted solace in her company. Her desires aligned rather well with his.

Perhaps he would need that solace tonight. The events of the endless evening - as unexpected and calamitous as they began - simply seemed to be growing more grievous as the early morning hours ticked away, and Cinder?s control was beginning to wane, as frustrated, violent rage infested his psyche. Fingers clinched subconsciously, and the ghostly metallic tang of blood lingered, nearly palpable, on his tongue.

But he was old, and powerful, and quite adept at keeping his base desires at bay. Having not spoken to the apprentice during her brief appearance at the Ball, he knew not her state of body or mind, and thus could not assume that she would engage him his evening.

The common rooms of the Lilium Suite possessed a typical midnight silence - a thick quiet he abruptly disturbed with a knock on Bryn?s chamber door.

Nothing.

The stately vampire struck again, his keen senses tuned to the faintest sounds in the room beyond, and again, there was no response. Behind the unwarded entrance, faint feminine breath touched the air, not deeply enough for slumber, slightly uneven in repressed agitation.

Chilled fingers strayed to the door handle, testing the latch. Finding it unlocked, he had no qualms about entering the room; after all, he had been compelled by his superior to this task.

?Cinder?? she spoke, her voice tremulous and child-like, as his silhouette filled the doorway. Apprentice Barron lay upon the magnificently-draped bed, her petite form - still costumed in her ballgown - curled upon the lavish linens, provocatively shadowed by the flame of a single brave candle.

In response, he advanced a several steps, the door clicking quietly closed behind him. As each of her fluttering heartbeats pulsed in his ears, he renewed his commitment to control, but here - in her presence, his mind crowding with the memories of their previous encounters - he felt a feral glow creeping into his golden gaze.

?Bryn,? he replied with a whispery-growl, his hand attaching immediately to her upper arm, yanking her from the softness of her bed and dumping her on the floor at his feet. Before she could cry out, he had assumed a kneel, his grip shifting to her chin as her forced her gaze. The apprentice was frightened: her typically-flat eyes flashed and boiled with a tumultuous riot of fear. He had seen this very expression before, but not until it was saturated with lust and accompanied by sweet begging. This, he had come to learn, was the secret crux of Bryn?s desire: being naturally inclined to feel so little, it was only through acts of masochism - such as offering herself to sate his violent thirst - that she seemed to experience authentic, unbridled emotion. It was rare and dangerous, but it was also exquisitely delicious.

Thus, he could only conclude that the potion still affected her, at least partially, for her to be so overwrought by his mere presence. Provoked by the writhing flame of the candle, shadows affectionately caressed her visage - those frightfully expressive eyes, her generous lips, which were now moving to whisper: ?I?m glad you?ve come.?

?The champagne you drank tonight was tainted by some potion,? Cinder replied, his features untouched by emotion, his tone grave, even as his hand shifted to the exquisite softness of her cheek. ?You are not yourself.?

?Will you stay with me?? the girl asked, unabashed hope joining the apprehension.

?I cannot.?

?But I don?t want to be alone,? she protested, nuzzling against his cold palm.

?You are not yourself,? he repeated, the phrased offered now as justification for his decision, his resolution waning as her plump lips brushed his flesh.

?I am enough of myself,? she returned, a sulk threatening to settle upon her demeanor.

The continued challenge triggered a savage chaos in the stoic creature, flooding him with long-repressed, ravenous desire. Spell or no spell, why should he continue to deny her that for which she yearned? Theirs was a House of libidinous excess, as evidenced almost universally by the actions of the Overseers and students. Why should he, one of its most senior members, deny himself the same pleasures that everyone else enjoyed?

With unparalleled speed, Cinder tossed the small necromancer onto her stomach, one hand fiercely clasping both of her wrists behind while the other lifted her dress and ripped viciously at her panties, rending the fine lace with little effort, twisting as he pulled and forcing the fabric to cut cruelly into tender flesh until it tore away completely.

Bryn moaned, the quiet cry colored with euphoric pain.

And Cinder smiled.

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-07-26 07:26 EST
Aftermath ? Thinking Things Through

There were too many questions and not enough answers for the Carpathian. The night was a fiasco in her mind both for the House and herself personally. Aside from the few courtesies given to her by her own ?sisters? and the Overseer Iameth, there had really been no enjoyment of the night.

Everyone was doing their little dances and had their favorites. She fell into neither category, which left her to watch the chaos erupt as the potion took its hold. She had feigned drinking the Champagne, not wish to make herself ill for the sake of illusion. She could not ingest anything other than blood? or rather she could, but she would need to regurgitate it later. Of course, this left her as suspect as well to those that knew nothing of her species.

So she watched, and learned what she could. The scene itself would do little for insurance later as the Winds was sure to have seen and would be reporting it wholesale. Of course, the Bitch was sure to be described in full detail, colorful language and all.

She had fed her wolf before hunting herself. It was a small thing to donate a bit of blood and to assert her position as Alpha of this tiny pack. She felt the unconditional acceptance and love from her wolf and wondered however briefly if her lifemate was somewhere close. Probably not even ? born yet for she was able to experience pleasure with the Sorcerer. However brief...

As she made her way through the WestEnd, her thoughts turned to who had the power to pull this off. Coupled with the notice from the faculty, she could safely rule out anyone below Mage with a couple of notable exceptions. Then there was also the champagne itself. Who had the full access to the champagne aside from the wait staff and her own house?

She moved faster as she felt the menace and heard the screams. A man thought he was the big predator and could take whomever he wanted. His mind was sick with lust and anger. The woman terrified of her attacker and unable to escape. The attacker was ripping at the woman?s clothing all the while spouting off with obscenities. The woman was surprised when he was suddenly torn away by this slip of a woman.

She used that inhuman strength to hold him immobile while he continued to cuss her out. There was a soft tsking as she moved to the attackers neck. Her eyes focused on the woman, Run, girl. You will not remember me, only that a good Samaritan was able to give you the chance to flee.

The woman complied immediately with the compulsion that had been spoken to her mind. As the foul man tried to fight free, she none too gently sank her fangs into his neck. The man froze as she drank. She overlaid a compulsion on him. She could see he was wanted for other crimes as well. The compulsion would send him into the arms of the nearest watchman. He would be weak, but able to face mortal justice.

With a swipe of her tongue, she sealed the wound on his neck, leaving no trace. She was fed, he was alive and there would be justice for the girl.

She let her prey drop to the ground, dazed as she faded into the mist. She was fully fed and no closer to the answers she sought. The answers that lay back at the Institute and started with the Sorcerer Iameth. She was on her way back to her? Haven.

Enzir Jekai

Date: 2011-07-27 11:46 EST
?Unacceptable.? Enzir scowled as he examined the interior of Xera?s room.

Empty.

She'd somehow managed to escape his watchful eye.

That single word of condemnation was targeted upon no other than himself, as this failure fell short of his required employment; consort to the Queen. It had been his role to see to her needs, both as guide and guardsman, and yet there he stood peering inside her room, wondering where she had gone to.

Since their return from the Azer kingdom Enzir had made his existence scarce, wishing for Xera to once again integrate herself back into the student role without his presence obstructing the fluidity of it. She was vibrant and friendly, and Enzir was certain that with him by her side it would have provoked questions and concern from her acquaintances, which would interrupt the natural elation of her return. He could not proceed until she was once again reincorporated into her own life.

With that feat seemingly accomplished, he felt it a good time to submit his application and begin his own tutelage within the Institute. Without acceptance, he wasn?t permitted to attend beside her ? which, in a word, was... unacceptable.

With disgust he looked over the vacant chamber once more before slowly closing the door, the darkness within heralded by the sudden absence of illumination on behalf of his departing locks of actual flame.

He'd need to find her, and once he did, they'd need to talk.

Leda

Date: 2011-07-31 02:31 EST


Those who seemed to consider themselves friends or allies with Leda never ceased to tease the half-breed about her study habits. She could spend a month or more wiling away the time with personal amusements, with entertaining encounters, with new conquests. But always, she came back to her books, to her studies, to the application of her intelligence that allowed her to just scrape by in most of her classes.

It was that time of the month again. She'd been in the Library for two days and nights now, foregoing sleep and food in favor of raising her grades once again. With that safety net of achievement in place, she could return to the semblence of freedom she enjoyed here on Rhy'Din. Until the next time she was threatened with failure.

It wasn't that she was unaware of the political tensions within the school; they did not directly affect her, therefore she did not care who won and who lost. Though she did have to express a preference that if there did have to be a loser, Leda would revel in the humiliation handed out to SatyrKiss. Her grudges, once formed, were all but unshakeable.

She arched suddenly, a movement intended to ease the aching burn in her lower back. One arm twisted backward, carefully rubbing her fingertips all around the place where it most hurt. Around, not over - the last thing she wanted right now was to initiate contact with Carnivean because of a straying finger brushing over the Chaos mark on her back.

A rustle of skirts made her look up, her black eyes blinking in surprise when she found herself on the receiving end of possibly the kindest gaze she had ever seen. It came from eyes of soft brown, an angelic sort of face capped with golden hair. Leda frowned a little. She didn't think she had ever seen this person before.

"That would be because you have not required my guidance, Novice Nyx," the face said in a quiet voice, the lips curving into a gentle smile. "I am Amaya Tul'Nor. And since you had no need to bind your familiar to yourself when you arrived, I deemed it wise to allow you time to settle into the school before I made myself known."

Kind or not, Leda could feel her insides squirming, uncomfortable in the presence of someone who could only be touched by the other end of the scale to her own heritage. Her black eyes narrowed as she looked up at the mistress, not bothering to rise.

"Nephilim," she hissed suddenly, ages old hatreds rising in her demonic blood against the angelic blood in the woman before her.

"I would be disappointed if you could not work that one out," Amaya said calmly, moving to lower herself into a nearby chair in a floating rustle of skirts. Her eyes were piercing, seeming to see through the half-breed demon she gazed upon. "Yet you have not yet worked out the true nature of your slavery."

Leda blinked again, her gaze flickering off to the shadows of the bookshelves all around them. She couldn't help feeling off-balance, alone in a room with someone who was the opposite of herself, and the sudden jack-knife of the conversation was not helping. There was something very unsettling about being read so easily by one who was supposed to be your enemy.

"What do you mean?" she asked finally. "I know all about it. I disobey, or I fail, and I die. I've seen it happen."

The golden-haired mistress smiled her gentle smile once more. "A Demon Lord may destroy a demon with a thought, since they are simply a manifestation of his own Planar realm," she explained, her tone almost tender. "He may not do so with a mortal soul. And you have a mortal soul, Leda Nyx, though you do your best to deny it."

"No," Leda denied this claim almost instantly, shaking her head with firm insistence. "No, he's hurt me just by thinking it before. So you're wrong. And even if you're not wrong, it's not like having a mortal soul is anything but a curse to a half-breed."

"To control you, he must bind you," Amaya went on, as though the half-fiend had not spoken at all. "Four bindings I see in you, your soul split four ways, subject to a master, your origins, and to a dear friend. Freedom could be achieved in the loosening of those bonds."

"What do you mean, freedom? What are you talking about?"

But the golden-haired Mistress of Bindings was already rising to her feet with a secretive quirk of her kind smile, leaving Leda in the relative gloom of the silent Library, to ponder what little she had been given in information.

Ilyona

Date: 2011-07-31 09:22 EST
A chance meeting a few days after the ball...

Ilyona was glad to escape school at this point. The Masquerade had been far too embarrassing and she had been avoiding the Cambion. She was wearing a blouse, a good pair of breeches and boots.

It had been a good afternoon to get away and wander the Market, and Khordan was wandering back by a most indirect route, making his way up the steps and into the Inn for a few moments stop.

Oh, there was Khordan. She blushed a bit, "Evening." She figured word had gotten around.

?Evenin' Ilyona.? Catching the greeting, and diverting a bit away from his path toward the bar. ?How's things??

She shrugged a little, "Same as ever, you?"

?Then it must be all good.? He stepped a few paces over to claim a spot at the bar. ?So, Recovered from the party??

There was that blush, "Yes. That... was horrid." She moved to claim a stool next to him.

He chuckled softly, and looked down to see if either of the tenders were busy. ?Been hearing it was quite the party.? Perhaps a bit of an understatement, but he hadn't been listening all that close to the stories. The books had been holding him tightly recently.

"Someone tampered with the Drinks. Anyone who had a champagne was affected." She replied quietly.

?Sounds like most parties I've heard though about.? Not one to have been to many himself. A slow smile as he looked to 'Yona, then back to the bar, raising a hand to grab one of the tender's attention.

She smiled a bit, "This wasn't a party, this was a fiasco. The party was sabotaged."

He made a 'hmm'ing noise, but made a seconds pause to answer Trinala, ?An ale for me and?? There was a glance to Ilyona.

"An Elven wine." She said softly.

?And an elven wine, please.? Coins were already being taken from a belt pouch and set to Trinala for the drinks and a tip.

She nodded to Khordan, "Thank you."

?Welcome.? Handing her the glass, and taking up his own tankard. ?Now, why would anyone want to mess up the party?? A very loaded question there...

"Viperfang has plenty of enemies. Still, It was mortifying to say the least."

?From what I've seen, they do bring it on themselves...? Only knowing of a couple of that particular group, as the houses were one of the things he would be finding out about after the summoning. ?Losing control always is.?

Ilyona

Date: 2011-07-31 09:23 EST
"I... was afraid. I haven't felt that type of fear in" she sighed softly, "A long time."

A brow went up, then a hand followed, moving through the perpetually-tousled hair before he took a sip of his ale. He finally released a breath of air, ?At least you didn't go off doing something crazy.?

She shook her head, "No.. Scurried back to my room and hid."

?Then call that a strong defensive instinct.? He chuckled softly, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze. ?Could have been a lot worse.?

"It was...for others." There was a shaky breath drawn and composure regained.

?You almost have to wonder what people are hiding within then...? He mused as he took another sip of his ale.

She nodded at that, "Made you act the opposite of how you would normally be. The Cambion was warm and mothering."

So the rumors had been? ?Well, that's now behind, and we get to see how things shake out.? THAT was the fun part, at least in his opinion. But then, he had missed the whole thing, so could sit back and watch.

There was a bit of a wince there. "I'm sure it will not be all that fun for those involved."

?True enough. But?? His voice lowered a tad, ?(s)Keep an eye out, and watch your back, just in case someone decided to come at you because of this mess.?

She nods at that, "(vq) Always." She sighed softly, it was force of habit.

One she should kick. Much prettier with a smile rather than a sigh. ?Good. Now, and ideas what might come through for a summoning tomorrow?? He was in a good mood, what with his discovery earlier in the Market.

She shook her head, "I wouldn't know, I haven't tried myself."

?OK, different question. What would you wish for??

She laughed softly, "I wouldn't mind a fairy dragon of some sort." She smiled at him, "Though you shouldn't go into it with a set of expectations."

?Knowing my recent luck, I'll get a cat with a perpetual hairball.? He smiled before taking a long pull of his ale. Not being bothered by the bad things tonight, it seems.

"Could be worse, could be Moir?s contrary kitty." She teased a little.
And now he laughed, before draining the last of his ale. ?True enough. In any case, I'll let you know what happens... though if something explodes again, you'll find me in the infirmary.?

"I'll make sure to be working."

That drew a puzzled look, ?You're in the infirmary now??

Ilyona

Date: 2011-07-31 09:25 EST
"I have been mentoring a bit with Danilo."

?Oooh.? THAT was news, to be certain. ?Well, he doesn't talk too much that I've seen.? But then he could be accused of the same.

"A lot of people judge him on his looks." She shrugged, "They don't care to know him."

Again the brow rose slightly, ?Wasn't judging him on looks or anything, just making an observation. He's a quiet one.? A wry half-smile, and he turned a bit more fully to her.

"I didn't say you specifically." She smiled at him, "He doesn't mingle much."

He chuckled, and nodded slowly. ?Well, from what I can gather, I'm actually the oddity in the institute.? Being human, he meant?

There was a grin, "No you're not."

?Sure I am. Quiet, head stuck in my studies, nothing all that glamorous...? That soft chuckle.

"Am I all that Glamorous?"

?You turn the heads.? Teasing her a bit. ?But, anyhoot, tomorrow I'll see if I can pass the test, or if I'm going to be on Mos'em''s bad side.?

She smiled, "I have faith you will succeed."

?With that kind of support, I'll be certain to.? He smiled, and leaned in to give her a one-armed hug. ?I'll let you know tomorrow evening how that comes out.?

She leaned into that brief embrace. If only for a moment. "Alright."

?Well, I'm off for the school. I need to run a divination on something.? His hand moved to pat the area of the vest pocket. ?And I need to make certain I have everything ready for the summoning.?

She smiled at him, "How about I walk back with you."

?Thought you'd never ask.? Standing away from the bar, he held out an arm for her. She stood and laced her hands onto his arm with a warm smile. And off for the door and the road back toward the school they went.

(A big thank you to Khordan.)

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-07-31 16:46 EST


It was time to consolidate her position within House SatyrKiss. With Veronique and Emilina circling one another, preparing to do battle as discreetly and venomously as possible, Callisto needed to make sure that she was perceived by the victor as someone worth keeping on side. That not only meant being careful with her confidences; it meant proving that she could further the House itself. And the opportunity had already presented itself.

Jacen Balthazar. Evidently someone of importance, given his palacial suite of rooms within Dianthus Wing, and the necromantic illusionist thought she had a good idea of just how important he was. No one had managed to get anything concrete on his background yet, but all sources indicated that you didn't get much higher in status than the enigmatic novice.

Of course, it didn't detract from his suitability that he was young and handsome, and apparently enthusiastically talented when it came to certain skills. Callisto smirked to herself as she made her way through Dianthus Wing toward the novice's own suite. No, that didn't detract at all. Handsome, arrogant in a way that intrigued and amused her, and of course, he had expressed an interest in both SatyrKiss and herself, which was always helpful when planning a seduction.

She let herself in, weaving threads of protective energy ahead of her in case he had warded his rooms against intrusion. She found nothing there to bar her way, no barrier to keep her from proceeding with her intention. A note was made and squirrelled away in the back of her mind to perhaps speak to him about his lack of security measures.

The plan was simple enough ... to be here when Jacen returned, and to be as earthy and sensual as she possibly could to gain from him a pledge to SatyrKiss. And then, of course, to enjoy herself with him. After all, what fun is there in a seduction if you don't stay around to savor the climax?

Of course, there was always the possibility that Jacen would reject her out of hand. But, of course, he could not now be unaware of what she was capable of, what she had already done to those who crossed her. Grant Palamine, still too proud to offer an apology, still bore the weeping sores she had gifted him with for his handling of her at the masquerade.

She had deliberately come with no wand, no visible means of protection, lowering the lights by hand to a level that illuminated no more than the shadows concealed. Her cloak was set aside, folded carefully beneath the crisp satin lines of her dress, leaving her only in crimson brocaded corset, flimsy panties, and sheer stockings topped with lace. Leaving her heeled shoes on her feet, she lowered herself to the bed, content now to wait and see what would become of the evening.

If he pledged to SatyrKiss tonight, then he would have her to enjoy until dawn, and she would have the unassailable position of having brought the son of a god into the House entirely on her own merits. If not, he would be left to his own devices, and Callisto would turn her attention to seduction by other means.

One way or the other, she intended to make herself invaluable to whomever won the battle of wills between Veronique and Emilina. Or, perhaps, to win over the rest of the House to her own support. After all, come the year's end, they would need to choose a new Overseer, wouldn't they?

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-08-01 00:58 EST
Dianthus Wing

The dark-haired young demigod had been out since dawn. The night previous had yielded wins in the arena, even if the matches had been more play than real. He'd woken in the morning, deliciously sore. A few warm-up exercises and a hot shower had drained the stiffness from his muscles, and once he'd dressed he'd made his way out of the Institute to the grounds themselves.

No sign of Sartha today, which was a good thing. He had no fear of the big lug, but he wasn't itching for that confrontation, either. He had no doubt it was coming, and that probably sooner than he'd prefer, but come it would, and he'd face it just as he did everything else - without fear.

After all, he had nothing to fear. Live, or die, no man can walk out on his own story, and he's no exception.

Once he was out the main doors he started walking aimlessly, not paying any real attention to where he was going, just letting his feet do the moving while his mind wandered. There was a lot to consider, with the project he'd been working on. He had thought it would be easy - after all, the enchantments for his wand, cloak and spellbook had all taken him perhaps a few hours.

Well, not the spellbook, but even that had been simple by comparison. He'd gone to see Nil'aiha first, and when he'd presented the idea to the Enchantments master the man had been enthusiastic and full of energy, praising the young demigod for his innovative thinking and ambition towards completing such a project, though he'd also expressed a concern that such an undertaking might overwhelm the novice and it might end up never being completed.

That discussion had spanned the better part of an hour, and had been quite educational. The rituals for gaining specific knowledge were complex, and - he'd been told - would have to be adjusted not only to be made permanent and flexible within the boundaries of the enchanted objects, but would have to be slightly different to encompass the subjects of each book.

The conversation had ended with Nil'aiha extracting a promise from the young demigod that he would take notes on the process and give a copy of them to the Enchantments master, if they should be successful, and in return there would be a considerable reward in it for Jacen. He'd also been advised to see a student - Rainar Pontius - on the subject of creating the books, since this was not a process one could expect to perform on some prefab book from an office supply store.

He had yet to go see Mistress Mistmark to seek her advice - there had been other things to take care of, and then there had been duels on three separate nights, as well, which he refused to sacrifice. All of his kind, so he'd been told, had the blood of the warrior in their veins, a call that was near impossible to resist, and would only build with time until it became unbearable.

Most of his fellow students would swear that if any heart beat in the demigod's chest, it was with one desire - his own pleasure and amusement. They'd be surprised to discover there were other desires as well, other hungers that only came out when he had a weapon in hand at his command.

But none of them got to know that. None of them could be allowed to know there was anything but the arrogant, smug, irritating jackass they'd all come to know and loathe.He'd been wandering aimlessly, for hours, when he realized that the sun was settling low in the sky, dusk approaching fast, and the grounds aren't the safest at night, even for one such as him. Besides, he has other ideas for the night, and he'd left his fighting implement in his rooms.

Another night, another fight, another distraction from the everyday. He'd never admit to anyone how good it felt to be in the ring - just him and a blade and an opponent, death waiting - or at least the illusion of death, which in its own way was just as exciting as the real thing.

As always there's the sensation of doubling, of being in two places at once, and suddenly he's standing in the hallway in his private rooms.

This wasn't right. He should have been taken to his bedroom, unless...

...unless the door ward had been passed.

His security was designed to be deceptively open, admitting any but those that intended the young demigod harm of some kind. Any that bore him personally no ill will, even if they intended some mischief of one kind or another (as long as their intent wasn't malicious) would be allowed past.

He enjoyed a good joke as much as anyone, and probably moreso. But by no means was he stupid. And it didn't stop there - whoever decided they would like to try entering his rooms was well advised not to touch anything they found inside, or chances were equally good that they'd end up somewhere in the sewers of Rhy'din, the grottoes of WestEnd, or in the midst of the Temple district.

So not only had his wards been passed, whoever had gotten in was still there.

Without fear he walked into the suite, looking around casually. Whoever was here presented no threat to him, that much he was certain of - if they did, they wouldn't be inside, simple as that. No one in the sitting room, he could see as he passed through it, and a swift look around did not reveal anyone in the adjoining rooms, which left one to explore - the bedroom.

For a moment he had a thought that Leda had decided to take him up on his open invitation, but that thought was quickly brushed aside - they had no personal connection other than sex, and she wasn't the type to just 'pop in' unannounced.

"All right, whoever's in there had better have a good reas -"

That's about as far as he got before he stepped into the room. The subdued lighting, he thought, was a nice effect to reveal the curves and lines of the luscious form sprawled on his bed, waiting for him in her rather revealing attire, and yet keeping enough in shadow to tantalize the imagination at the same time. The grin on his lips widened into a more genuine smile of pleased surprise as he stepped further into the room and closer to the bed, the silvery-blue pale eyes wandering over her with undisguised desire.

A random part of his mind, in that moment, thought that perhaps there were other diversions to be found this night.

Despite his usual glib manner, it was a moment before he managed to find his voice, and only after he cleared his throat. A multitude of thoughts ran through his brain - their conversation in the common room one evening, another conversation on the Isle - much more recent - in which he'd expressed his own interest in her over her friend, who had been offered like bait, in his opinion, to seduce him into SatyrKiss. Another thought, on the heels of that, recalled her comment that allowing such a seduction would be enough to cement her house's claim on him...and yet another brought to mind that the student the Enchantments master had mentioned was, likewise, part of the same house.

He's no fool, of course - like anyone else in the school, he knew of the strife within SatyrKiss since the dismissal of Benedykt and the tension between the current Overseer and the next ranking member, a Sorceress by the name of Emilina Bertrand, as he recalled. Not only that, but the House was in need of members, being the least populous of the four.

So he knows that she's not here just for the pleasure of his company for the night. But on the other hand, there are things he can get out of this as well...other than sexual gratification.

Which he will be sure to enjoy thoroughly, as well.

Still, he takes the time for at least a cursory attempt at pleasantries as he approaches the bed, leaning against a post to look her over closer, in more detail, his gaze a smoldering thing that travels along her body with slow deliberation. "Why, Callisto Fairbourne, Mage of House SatyrKiss. I must confess myself somewhat surprised to find you here tonight. Might I ask what brings you on this impromptu meeting?"

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-08-01 04:11 EST


Waiting for the young novice's return had not been arduous for the scantily-clad Callisto. No one knew where she was, which in itself was rare enough that she was afforded the hours to revel in her own thoughts, her own schemes, without the all but guaranteed interruption of someone in need of an ear to hear and a shoulder to lean upon.

She had, of course, explored as far as she was able, her winding weave of magic warning her against touching or taking anything that took her fancy. This, in itself, was impressive, and a good reminder that though she could have bypassed these precautions with a little application - being a more accomplished magic user than he at present - Jacen Balthazar was not to be underestimated.

Her time had been spent well enough, however. Had Jacen explored more thoroughly, he might have noticed an array of objects not his arranged within arm's reach of the bed; multiple aids to pleasure one way or the other, all gathered there to tempt whatever part of his psyche was more dominant that night. The bathroom had been given the same treatment as the bedroom - half-light, augmented with candles, the wide bath itself filled with ever re-heating water, giving off the enticing eroticism of ylang-ylang and jasmine.

Her unspoken message was clear - there was to be no magic involved in this evening's seduction but that needed to maintain comfort. The heady, heavy scent of the aphrodisiacs mingled in the air, snaking through the dimness to wind about them both as she slowly pushed herself to sit, leaning back on her hands, one stockinged leg bent high as her eyes found a fix upon the smouldering gaze levelled upon her.

"Is my presence truly such a surprise, Novice Balthazar?" she asked, her voice purposely dropped an octave to a lingering, husky purr that hinted at the sounds of her passion. "We have discussed such a situation before."

She made no move to rise, placing herself in the open position of supplicant, her level lower than his to appeal to the natural subconscious desire to dominate one who is an equal and more. One hand lifted from the sheets behind her to draw the curve of her fingernail upward along the cloth-covered line of his thigh, just the barest touch to match the enticing pout that formed her lips.

"While it is true that I will not give you all you see and more unless you are a member of my House, that is not all I offer you," she purred to him, brown eyes mysteriously dark through lowered lashes. "Advancement through connections, assistance with your personal projects, allies to stand around you if not friends ... and, of course, all you see and more." Her lips curved into an inviting smile.

"But do consider your reply before you make it. What is it you truly desire from us, Jacen? From me?"

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-08-03 01:45 EST
For a moment, he's tempted to reject the offer. After all, he had turned Bryn's advances of pulling him towards ViperFang away, and she had promised him many of the same things. Actually, all of them, and she was quite nearly as attractive as Callisto, though admittedly he had not come into his rooms to find the former lying on his bed, openly inviting him to take her...

...for a price.

But he had rejected that offer for a simple reason - with ViperFang, one would never know where the knife would come from, nor would you know the hand that wielded it. At least with SatyrKiss he would know the fatal blow was coming, if indeed it did come, and from where he could likely expect it.

Even if the house was as rife with infighting as the others, he could survive that by making himself indispensable to those in power. He had no ambitions towards running the House itself - his own aims went beyond that, far, far beyond. Power didn't interest him on such a small level. Where most in the school were perhaps overly concerned with securing their own little thrones within the school, the things he sought were beyond its boundaries.

He had bigger goals in mind, had only begun to formulate them in his mind, plots and plans that had only just begun to take shape. And while he knows - without a doubt - he is capable of finding his own way, making his own mark and impression, it's hard to deny - even to himself - that such a splash can be made so much more significant with a little assistance.

And if there's one thing he can appreciate, it's leaving a mark to be remembered.

"Indeed, we have had such a discussion." His eyes move around the room as he speaks, noting her little...additions. Some not so little, he noted with a chuckle to himself. The heady scents, the array of pleasurable implements, the sheer amount of preparation she had gone through while leaving his own things untouched, spoke of a lot of forethought, something else he could appreciate. The message wouldn't be clear to many, who would only be concerned with the lean, curvaceous figure arrayed carefully on their bed, seductively posed with lascivious intent.

He understood perfectly. She no doubt has taken the opportunity to examine him in depth, and chose wisely to avoid his own methods of protection. Such a thing most likely was not accidental - he had several oddities in his room that were meant to snare the eye and attract the hands.

This lovely creature before him is not, by any means, to be underestimated in her own right.

"But I confess, I did not expect to find you here." With a grin he brought his gaze back to her, a hand reaching out to slide along the silken-clad length of a calf, a feather-soft caress that gives lie to the strength of a hand accustomed to wielding steel in combat. "I rather thought you might try to ensnare me into your own chamber."

Moving towards the bedside table, he let that hand draw back until it was just the tips of his fingers gliding along her stockinged leg, up along the top of her thigh, snagging those flimsy panties just enough to pull them from her skin before letting them snap gently back as those seeking fingers continued upward teasingly, following the lines of her body as his gaze moved from her to the bedside table.

Despite the inviting array of temptations his mind was already turning towards her question, doing just as she advised - considering carefully.

By no means is he a fool. He knows her reputation as the confidante, the school's shoulder to lean on and ear to whisper into. He had no doubt she is privy to some of the darker secrets and desires of the students here.

He won't be so easily ensnared.

"The things I desire from...your house, your...connections...I will, for the time being, keep to myself.. Suffice it to say, those things are many and far-reaching." The hand that had been so temptingly making its way along her figure moved from her to the nightstand, picking up a rather obscenely large, anatomically correct instrument she had chosen to lay there, which he examined for a moment before he turned back towards her, moving in closer to settle at the edge of the bed, settling the blunt tip against the side of her neck and drawing it down against her skin, from the hollow of her throat to nestle between the valley of her breasts, then continuing downward slowly as the grin became a rather prurient leer as his eyes settled on hers.

"The things I desire from you, however, I will be only too glad to show you, as often as you'd like."

The More Things Change

Date: 2011-08-03 16:51 EST
Mount Yasuo - The Temple of Kalfyi San, twelve days ago

The young man, unshaven, his long, wavy brown hair tied back in a ponytail and dressed only in a pair of comfortable, loose-fitting white pants, sat on the floor of the meditation chamber, his eyes closed, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees, his features serene and relaxed. All around him candles burned and incense cones smoldered, wafting ribbons of scented smoke in swirling patterns around and above him.

The classic picture of peaceful contemplation, a man at peace with the universe.

He was about to be interrupted.

The gout of flame struck him from behind, an inferno fit to be seen in the depths of Tartarus itself, rapidly wrapping around him and consuming the young man and everything within the room, flowing along the floors, up the walls to the ceiling. The fire roared with a fury like a storm, swirling around the chamber, its roasting heat enough to have reduced everything within to cinders.

And just as quickly, it was snuffed out.

For a moment the only thing that could be seen was a thick, heavy black smoke, before a wind blew through the room and swept it out, only to reveal the young man, sitting just as he had been before the attack. Everything else that wasn't a part of the room - the candles, the incense cones - had been reduced to ash.

There was silence for a moment, before the younger man turned his head to the side, finally opening his eyes, a wry smile on his lips as he looked behind him to the shorter, older man standing at the entrance to the chamber. "Was that really necessary, Master Mukai?"

The slighter man, with his long, light hair hair tied up in a top knot and dressed in the robes of a teacher, bowed his head respectfully toward the younger man sitting on the floor, never taking his mismatched eyes off of him. "One never knows where an attack may come from, or when, my student. It is always best to be prepared for such an event, and to assume that at any time, in any place, you may fall victim to such an assault."

With a single, gracefully lithe movement Dillon Astikas hopped up from his cross-legged seat on the floor, stretching to work out the stiffness in his muscles for a moment before he turned to face his master, the overseer of the temple of Kalfyi San. At six feet and eight inches tall he towered over the diminutive older teacher, whom he bowed to respectfully, still smiling. "I remember the lesson clearly, Master."

His teacher - older than Dillon himself, but still quite young to have achieved such a position of importance - chuckled. "I know you do, Dillon. Despite knowing such a thing with your mind, however, I fear that you have not yet had enough experience in the outside world to truly appreciate the importance of such a lesson." With a gesture for his student to follow, he turned away and left the chamber.

Without hesitation Dillon followed, down the winding halls of the temple, trailing after Mukai San in the position of the subordinate to the Master's superior. "I have been lived here in the Circle for seven years, Master, and have been taught by yourself, not to mention the other accomplished teachers of the other towers, not only in magic but in many other arts as well. That aside, I had not intended to leave this place...I am quite happy with my life here, and had hoped to become a teacher myself one day."

Mukai led him on, speaking over his shoulder as they walked. "I know these things, my student. And while I would be quite happy to see that dream come to fruition, your destiny does not lie here."

Together they descended the stairs to the lowest level of the Tower, exiting them into the cavernous hall at the entrance to the temple. As they approached the door, the younger man trained his gaze on the Master, focusing on the man's talents, trying to see into the Master's mind, to see what he saw...only to find the way blocked. With a chuckle the older teacher only shook his head. "Now, now, my young student, you were taught better than that. Besides, even as you have learned from me..."

Together they stepped out of the wide entryway and onto the plateau beyond it, which overlooked the Valley of the Nine below, spread out beneath them in a breathtaking, sweeping view. No matter how often he saw it, the view still stole his breath and captured his mind, distracting him - if only for a moment - from his attempt at reading his teacher.

"...I have learned from you."

Turning his attention back to Master Mukai, he let the confusion show on his features, a frown showing on his lips as his brow furrowed. "I do not understand, Master. If not here, where am I to go?"

Mukai gestured south, to the Valley below and beyond. In that direction, he knew, lay Rhy'din. He had not ventured in that direction beyond the Valley in seven years, had not thought he would find himself going there again. "You will go to Rhy'din, my student, to the Institute of Arcane Principle, to further your studies." The Master of the Temple raised a hand to stop Dillon's next question even as the younger man was opening his mouth to ask it. "Understanding is not a requisite of cooperation, Dillon. I have seen your path, and it does not lay here, among us. Perhaps one day, when you have learned all that you need to from the teachers and students you will find waiting for you there, you may yet return. But for now, this is the path you must travel."

The young man turned his golden-hazel eyes to the valley below, towards the south and the unseen lands beyond. He didn't like it, but he trusted the Master completely, had faith in the man, who had never once led him astray. Finally he looked back to the shorter man, nodding once more respectfully. "I understand, Master Mukai."

It was a lie, and Dillon could see that the older man knew it, but he smiled anyway as he answered. "Not yet, you do not. But you will. I have faith in you...you have been the most unique student ever to grace these halls, and we have learned as much from you as you have from us. It has been one of the greatest honors of my life to have been your teacher, and I wish you good tidings on your path." Laying a hand on his student's shoulder to turn him back towards the temple with a smile, he walked side by side with him inside, accompanying the young man back to his rooms. "Come. I will help you pack for your journey."

The Institute of Arcane Principle - today

It had been a long trip. Rather than take the portal from Jenli near the Ivory Lotus, he had opted instead to travel alone through the wilds on his way south, taking the same path that had brought him to the Circle of the Nine all those years ago. The supplies he carried with him were few - two of the white uniform outfits, so similar to the designs of the Orient on the planet he had come from many years before, a knife, some basic survival gear so he would not go hungry or thirsty on the way. And a few mementos he had managed to hold on to, from a life he sometimes saw flashes of in his dreams - a Navy Cross, an ivory ribbon tied around a lock of red hair, a slender golden necklace with a locket attached to it.

Now he approached the Institute itself, the huge building before him that so resembled an institution of a different kind - certainly not a school, if the oddly disturbing aura of the place was any indication. The pack slung over his back contained the three basic things he needed for admittance - cloak, an empty spellbook, and a length of wood he had picked out on his own along the way from the Valley to Rhy'din.

Well, not 'picked up', so much as 'fell on his head.'

And then there was the silver fox that had been following him for a week. The poor thing had come to his fire one night, without fear, and sat across from him, looking at him with its bright, golden eyes as he had cooked a rabbit. Of course he had fed the creature - which turned out to be a vixen - and, quite naturally, it had continued following him.

Of course, he had no objection to her presence - he had even named her Kohana, since she insisted on accompanying him the rest of the way. As the gates opened he looked around, only to find the vixen not gone but right at his heels, looking around curiously as a tame cat.

Such an odd animal, but there were other odd things as well.

Like this place.

Having been raised among mages and monks, swordsmen and farmers in such a place of peace, he - like they - accepted it without question, adjusting himself to the circumstances rather than trying to impose himself upon them. There was, after all, little else he could do.

He'd had no more entered the main doors of the building than a rather ugly-looking creature that resembled a lemur and a macaque with no lips and a sheep's fur scrambled up to him and handed him a piece of paper, them made a motion for him to follow it.

Even more odd. The thing was hideous, but seemed to possess some kind of intelligence, even though it didn't speak to him, just made growls and clicks as it motioned for him to follow. Keeping it in sight, he kept on its tail - figuratively - as it led him through the hallways, through turn after turn after turn, until it found the right door.

With a motion towards it, the vaden hissed and scrambled off out of sight, leaving him, his pack and the fox standing there. Looking up over the door, his lips moved silently as he read the words inscribed on the tarnished bronze plaque that read, simply, 'Chamber Baptisia.' Pushing the door open, his eyes took in the room before him.

Two beds. Two desks. Chairs. A couch. Bare walls, no carpet, just wooden floorboards.

A smile broke his calm features apart as he took in his new living quarters, for the foreseeable future. He had, after all, been staying in a temple, and his quarters there had been quite similar to this. If anything, they had been even more bare.

As he tossed his pack on the bed to the left, he hoped fervently that he wouldn't get a roommate that would complain about the arrangements.

Kassandra

Date: 2011-08-03 18:44 EST
The Institute - Chamber Baptisia

This world was ... strange. And this place, this school she had been given to; it was unlike any other place she could have imagined. Sheltered in the temple all her life, Kassandra had rarely even seen the sky, much less what other wonders the world had to offer. And now, on the orders of Apollo, the High Priest had sent her away, given her to those who took charge of this Institute rather than discover a way in which her talents could be harnessed and used in the only home she had ever known.

She shivered a little as she walked through the stone-clad halls, following after the fiery sphere that had been sent to fetch her from her lodgings within the city. The spirit within had named itself Fesha, urging her to follow after as it swept through the sparse accomodation that had been arranged for her. Trusting to the gods who had sent her this far, Kassandra had followed, and now found herself in the chilling embrace of stone walls and unfamiliar marks of culture.

She passed students who wore the uniform of the school itself, either hurrying to their lessons, or else speaking together with a tense kind of familiarity that spoke of the time they had spent together. Everyone seemed so very ... comfortable here? No, comfortable was not the word. There was too much power, too much intrigue here for comfort to be something they enjoyed. Accustomed ... perhaps resigned. Not comfortable.

The sphere, Fesha, led her on a circuitous tour of the school itself, past classrooms in use, locked storerooms, private quarters, open common areas for study. The walled gardens with their myriad blooms and fresh greenery enchanted her, though she was not allowed to linger for long. It paused them before the entrance to a tower, and she gained the unusual sensation of knowledge implanted within her mind. This was a place that would come to be very important to her during her time here. The little metal plate upon the door shone with the words Depha Roksana Vadten; Mistress of Divination.

Divination; that was what she had been told her gift was. The Sight, the heritage gained from a mother drugged in servitude to the god Apollo, had been hers from childhood, an unwelcome intrusion into a life that had not been the most exciting to begin with. And this sphere, this spirit Fesha, it insisted that there was more within her, potential for power beyond that of simply Seeing what was given to her to See.

She was brought to a halt in a long corridor, before one of many doors that led from it. Fesha bobbed lightly above her, a sense of farewell in the movement, and floated away at a speed she could never have kept up with. Kassandra's eyes lowered to the little plaque upon the wooden panel before her. Chamber Baptisia ... the place where she was to sleep.

Uncertain, she softly opened the door, sharp eyes quickly noting the presence of two beds, upon one of which lay a bag. So she was not to sleep in here alone, she realized, wondering who it was she would be sharing her nights with. Her sandals schluffed on the wooden floorboards as she entered, gathering the crimson linen of her shawl tighter about her arms.

For now, at least, she saw nothing more to announce the presence of another, drawing small reassurance from that fact. Sparse, yes, but she would not be sleeping upon a stone bench, nor was she apparently expected to do anything but make use of this room for her comfort. Everything here was too new, too unfamiliar, too alien ... too cold. But there was something she could do to settle herself in this place.

She moved to the window, lowering herself down onto her knees in the ray of sunlight that pierced the surrounding gloom - to her eyes - of the dormitory room. Drawing in a slow, deep breath, she allowed the heat and light to permeate through her, as she had done for years, welcoming the gentle soothing of Apollo's touch upon her hidden form. Palm uplifted, she closed her eyes, and slowly withdrew deep inside herself, seeking the strength with which she had been born.

Something about this place was a warning that such strength may yet be the only familiarity she would be afforded in the weeks and months to come.

Khordan Rhylos

Date: 2011-08-03 20:58 EST
Watching a pot's contents boil was...tedious.

Watching a pot's contents for the first signs of boiling...even more tedious.

Watching a pot's contents for the first signs of boiling under the stern gaze of Master Mos'em...headache-inducing.

And thus Khordan stood, keeping a sharp eye on the reddish-hued liquid merrily smoking away in the small cauldron on the workstation inside Mos'em's combined classroom and laboratory. The taciturn Conjuration instructor watched from the side, making Khordan almost twitch in the intense gaze. So it had been all morning, ever since Khordan arrived to attempt the summoning. He almost wished there was a class to distract Mos'em, but it appeared the morning would be free of such distractions.

"Very good, Novitiate." It had been the most Mos'em had spoken since Khordan had first arrived and explained what he had planned, having otherwise been silent during the preparations and initial steps of the casting. "Always keep the clearest of thought of what you are attempting, even in such a trivial summoning."

If it's so trivial, why is there so much emphasis placed on it? Khordan kept the thought to himself as he scanned the edges of the cauldron, his hand hovering near the tabletop where he had laid out the components he had gathered over the past weeks. And there! a small bubble, solitary and meek, popped up from the viscous liquid. quickly Khordan dropped in the last ingredient of the sorcerers brew, a small ash twig, and breathed a soft sign of relief.

The liquid within the cauldron erupted in a staccato song, the sudden boiling sending small droplets flying. Khordan took a step back from the table as a thick smoke issued from the cauldron, roiling about almost like a living thing onto the table. "Now, Novitiate." Mos'em barked, and Khordan bent his thoughts to the summoning, visualizing the arrival of a companion that would join with him. He remembered the conversation with Ilyona, and concentrated on forming the visualization of a sleek hunting cat, the tawny mane just thick enough to run one's fingers through.

The smoke coalesced in the center of the table, then slowly drifted apart, the energies of the casting no longer sufficient to hold the vapors together. Khordan and Mos'em both stared at the revealed creature, the young man in surprise and the instructor quiet neutrality. "An interesting choice, Novitiate."

"Thank you, Master Mos'em, but it wasn't quite what I had in mind." The summoned creature was about as far from the cat as one could get, black scales gleaming in the light of the room as the snake shifted slightly in it's coil. Unblinking eyes watched the two, a tongue darting out to test the air.

"That likely is as much to do with the components you collected than anything." Mos'em stepped to the side, looking the snake over with a critical eye. "I would not fret however. In some cultures the snake is regarded as a symbol of wisdom and change. Though..." He paused, leaning in a bit closer in his inspection. "...I haven't seen one of this type before."

"It's a cottonmouth." Khordan had recognized the species immediately, having seen them around the lakes and streams near his home all of his life. And as though to demonstrate the pit viper hissed at Mos'em, long fangs dropping into view and framed by a brilliant white mouth. The instructor nodded slowly, nonplussed by the threat display, and turned to Khordan.

"Well, Master Rhylos, you have succeeded in the summoning of your familiar. Now, you will need to forge the bond between you and the...cottonmouth." Khordan nodded slowly, then looked to the snake, who regarded him now in that unblinking gaze.

"Forge a bond..." He repeated slowly, and was graced with another tongue-flip from the cottonmouth in reply.

Siofra Kelley

Date: 2011-08-03 21:33 EST
She had arrived in Rhydin late one afternoon. Since she knew it would take a bit of time before she recieved notice of her rooming situation at the Institute, she found a small inn that would suit nicely until then.
She entered the inn and made her way to the front desk to procure a room. She gave the innkeeper her name and he turned to retrieve the key to a room. As he turned again to face her, the key in his hand, he also handed her a note.

"Message came for you."

Her eyes narrowed at the innkeeper and then dropped to eye the letter with a look of confusion on her face.

"But I just got here, I haven't even notified anyone that I have arrived. Who else could possibly kn..."

"Im just the messenger." and with that he stalks into an adjoining room and out of sight. Thoughts that her mother had figured out where she was and had written her, begging her to come back home flooded her mind but dissapeared just as quickly . Maybe she just wanted it to be from her mother. She had been gone from home for less than a day and was already feeling homesick.

She blinked back the water that was welling up in her smokey gray eyes before it had the chance to break free and make its way down her pale cheek. She looked down at the note in her hand once more before opening it. It was from her father. No, she was not going to refer to him with that name. She had had a father, someone who had picked her up when she fell, held her when her dreams were less than sweet. He had passed away some time ago and she wouldn't give anyone else the honor of being called father, blood relation or not. Since he had taken it upon himself to fund her education, she would refer to him as her benefactor. With this decision made, she preceeded to read the note that had been left to her by her benefactor.

Siofra,

Your accomodations are less than desirable but they will be taken care of for as long as you need them. Do not get too used to such simple means as I am confident your lodgings at the school will reflect you true status in life, you should adjust accordingly. By this evening there will be another delivery. A purse will be left at the front desk that has the ability to provide you with any monies you may have need of. All you need to do is use your mind to request the amount you need and it is yours. You are the only one with the ability to use it but none the less, guard it wisely.

Sincerely,
Finn Bheara, King

She lowered the letter with a frustrated sigh. His having only just learned of her existance did not excuse the fact that he had still yet to present himself to her properly. King or not, she had hoped upon learning she was his daughter that there would have been some want or need in him to meet her in person. Instead, he had sent someone to watch her, chosen the most insufferable woman as his messenger, and lately? Short letters, usually containing either his dissapointment of something or his expectations of her. She had sought accommodations at the first random inn that she had come accross so the appearance of the letter the very moment she checked in proved one thing, he was still having her watched and apparently followed. She looked around the small lobby she was standing in, wondering where her watcher could be. Shaking her head at her own absurdity a smile played over her features. Whoever he had appointed was obviously very good at their job and she would likely never see them. She shrugged, she guessed her benefactors continued surveillance of her was his way to protect his investment.

She had ended up at The Red Dragon Inn on the suggestion of another patron at the inn she was residing at as a way to get a true feel for the residents of the area. For the first couple of nights she had enjoyed her nightly tea at the bar and some light conversations with some very interesting characters. It was her third night out that she got the chance to meet some of the talent she would encounter in the school.

They had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and it was when she nearly collided with the dark haired beauty, Callisto, that she was identified by her as a fellow student. She was thrilled to have been asked to join them. She had been polite and respectful, as she had been raised to be and they seemed to be warmly receptive of her presence there, save one.

He was tall, darkly handsome, and exceedingly exasperating. Jacen had attempted to aggravate and intimidate Siofra with his flippant sarcasm and complete disregard for social politeness when meeting someone for the first time. She had momentarily lost some of her well seeded composure, evident by the roll of thunder in the heavens that followed when she was on the verge of losing her temper, but she just as quickly identified that he had a deep seeded habit as well, to unsettle those around him. She regained her bearings and dismissed him to continue a conversation with the most interesting blue furred stranger, Khoom and enjoyed the rest of her evening. From her own assessment of Jacen, she now knew how to handle any and all further encounters with him.

The very next day she had recieved notice from the school as to her room assignment. After packing up her meager belongings to include the purse her benefactor had provided her, she made her way to the Institute. She got turned around a several times before finally finding her rooms located in the Heliconia Wing. Relief flooded her when she had finally reached the right place. "Looks like this is it." a wayward glance to Athar, her ever present raven companion, perched calmly on her shoulder. She took in a deep breath as she turned the knob to enter the room.

Just as quickly as she had drawn it in, the air was expelled out as her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her. The common room was filled with plush couches and chairs of various shades of beige and cream, the accents that complimented the earth tones of the room were of either deep red, green, or gold. The art that was displayed on the walls depicted various scenes of the four elements of nature, each one framed in a most ornately designed silver.

"You must be my new roomie."

Siofra was snapped out of her current state of awe by the casually, almost bored delivery of the statement. She quickly located the source and saw the young woman sitting on one of the couches in the corner, reading a text book. She looked to be in her teens, her attire of the finest material and the very posture, even in her reclined position, spoke volumes as to the wealth of her breeding.

"Yes, I guess I am. My name is Siofra, Siofra Kelley." a friendly smile upon her face as she spoke.

The young woman put a marker in the book to save her place before closing it, laying it in her lap and giving her her full attention. As she met Siofra's gaze, she offered an adequate smile with her greeting, "I'm Violette."

She nodded in the direction of a door just accross the expanse of the common room, "That would be your personal suite of rooms just beyond that door." She eyed Siofra's small bag of belongings inquisitively.

"Are the rest of your belongings arriving at a later time?"

"These.." lifting the small bag in her hand slightley, "are my only belongings." the smile remained respectfully on her face but there was a prideful lifting of her chin as she met the eyes of the young woman who was now eyeing her again with a slight look of confusion on her features. To Violette, Siofra did not look as though she was Fae royalty as she was rumored to be, perhaps the mill had gotten it wrong but no matter, Violette had decided she would give her the benefit of the doubt and smiled again before rising from the couch, clasping her book to her chest.

"Well," taking one final head to toe look at Siofra and the pitch black raven on her shoulder that she seemed to have just noticed at that moment, "I do hope it is house broken. If you need anything, I'm right accross the way."

And with that she bounced off into her rooms.

Siofra let out the air she was unaware until now that she had been holding as she was being assessed by her new roommate. She knew she had had little in the way of material belongings, hell, you could have fit the home she had grown up in inside the common room in which she stood with plenty of room to spare. But then again, she was a simple girl and her needs were just as simple.

With a sigh she headed towards the room Violette had indicated were to be her own private quarters. Another deep breath as she opened the door and this time her jaw dropped. Never had she seen such luxurious accomodations. The sitting room that greeted her was decorated in the most beautiful colorings. The walls were the palest blue, the couches and cushions contained a combination of deeper, richer blues. The furniture appeared to all be carved out of blonde wood, sanded and finished to perfection. She couldn't believe her eyes.

"Unbelievable." Athar was twitching his head about as if trying to take everything as well.

She made her way to the bedroom where she saw displayed there an intricately carved four poster bed with an overhang of the sheerest pale pink, almost pearl like material that was hung from the ceiling in the middle of the bed by a ring and cascaded down to be tied to each of the four posts. She walked over to admire the ivory down comforter that was embroidered with the same palest pink color. The ivory carpet was thick and soft, as if she were walking on a cloud.

She couldn't believe that only a few days ago she had been a simple farm girl living in a small farm house, content with her life. Now she was surrounded by a kind of luxury she never dreamed of and was going to be studying magic. Oh how far she had come, but oh how very much she was going to prove she deserved every bit of it.

Xera

Date: 2011-08-05 11:44 EST
Anise Wing

It blew ice chunks.

It was too quiet. There was no strumming of a guitar, or humming bard to holler at.

She frowned and looked around the room trying to decipher what was causing her skin to crawl.

And then she figured it out: There wasn't a single thing out of place in the main room of their Wing. She stomped the length of the ruthlessly organized space and deliberately knocked a pillow askew.

Somehow, that single out of place pillow signified everything that was wrong.

Her first days at the Institute had been filled with giddy girlishness. Quinnon, Vliss and she had formed a pact, a trio of Elementalists who were forever found together.

And then the horror of Vesper's Vale had torn Vliss from them and Xera had spent a half of a semester grieving and castigating herself.

But then there was Albion, Quillyan, and Damien and they were the Gingers and everything was good again.

And then things got weird as people paired up and suddenly noticing how Hot and squirmingly good it felt to sit in a man's lap outpaced the giggling.

But then there was Blizzard and Ozalynne and everything was good again. Until her husband had refused to do his duty and now she was a tension filled disaster.

With no distractions.

Her roommates were all about their own personal business. Callisto didn't even seem to come home last night and Felix had been gone on some quest for Ulyssa Mistmark for what seemed like days now. And Enzir...

She sighed.

Enzir was a blazing distraction for certain. The heat between them was undoubtedly hard to ignore.

She should have enjoyed showing him around and introducing him to all of her friends...but that was part of her problem. Friends were busy.

She'd taken Enzir to the Isles and ended up dueling. No one but that Jacen guy had put in an appearance.

Quillyan and Albion had gone and broken up. Damien and Vliss were all wrapped up in each other...speaking of, she hadn't seen Vliss since the ViperFang Masquerade?

Blizzard and Ozzie...she sighed.

They were hard to be around right now.

And her rooms were just too damn quiet.

Maybe Quinnon was free? But if one more of her friends babbled about the ascension she was going to light a fire under their ass.

It was time for some drinking.
It was time for some partying.
It was time for her to feel like she was home again.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-08-05 12:45 EST


So close, she was so close to getting what she had come here for ... Callisto could not have wiped the smirk from her lips even had she wanted to, her being perfused with the heat of imminent satisfaction of her goal in coming here at all. A pledge for SatyrKiss, a bolster to her position within the feuding House, and another conquest to add to her long list.

Of course Jacen had noticed the work that had gone into the evening, the forethought that had brought them to this point. She would have thought less of him if he had not, but she doubted he had realised the entire thrust of the presentation. It was a subconscious prod toward his ego, and if his reaction so far could be trusted, it had been accepted with barely a thought.

Put simply ... she was a mage, her time taken up in study and the care of others' who spoke with her. That she had taken the time to prepare the evening; to gather whatever they might need, to scent the air with aphrodisiac steam, to dress herself to best effect, even simply to make the time that all this had to have taken to bring together ... Callisto was flattering his subconscious mind with the knowledge that she, personally, considered him worth the time and trouble.

That it had been done here, in his own place ... well, that was just another little touch to whet his appetite. Her smirk widened to a grin as his fingers began their stately march up the tender-soft line of her stockinged leg.

"Yet here, in your chamber, the power is yours," she purred, her own fingers rippling back up through the shift and shimmer of his shirt to stroke one delicate fingertip against the pulse that beat time in his throat. Dangerous intimacy; the added thrill of suggestion to liven the encounter to something more. "Here you may do as you wish ... toss me out, throw me down, humiliate me, or more ... all in the comfort and security of your own private rooms. And without my wand? Well ... I am powerless to prevent you."

That was an outright lie, of course, but no one in this school was stupid enough to point out every last strength that they held in their arsenal. And certainly not to one of the more dangerous novices to have passed through the doors in recent years. But, as if to illustrate her point as he caressed that chosen instrument of his over her curves, she lay back once again, displaying herself as something weak and inviting for his delectation.

"You may yet become a welcome visitor to my own rooms," she laughed her low laugh, a gentle thump announcing the fall of her heeled shoes to the floor as she lifted her leg once again, teasing stickinged toes down his side.

Yet her fingers wriggled, reached beneath the pillow above her head, and came back with a small pin upon which was engraved the crest of the House to which membership was being offered.

"One drop of blood, my wicked darling, and this relationship can be sealed however often you wish," she promised, the pin held before his face. "Just a little drop of blood, and you will be mine."

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-08-05 21:13 EST
Aftermath - Demonic Hunger

Excerpt from the Masquerade Ball?

Drinks were secured and passed to Vliss and Ilyona as courtesy dictated. Then he was taking up a glass himself. Vliss smiled up at Damien's thoughtfulness and lifted her champagne glass for the toast that was about to come. Giddiness swirled. She beamed at the praise and hugged Damien's arm tight to her breast. Her free hand lifting that toast high. "To Unity!" She echoed happily, caught up on the swell of success.

If something seemed too good to be true, it just might be. Still, Damien maintained the facade, "Unity."

Vliss'd downed her drink quite eagerly and as the slow effects of something began to swirl deep inside she narrowed golden eyes suspiciously on the world before her, "Damien?" The sweet question of his name hinting that something wasn't right.

He was interrupted mid-mouthful and swallowed that bit. "Yes, Vliss?"

A nervous glance to Ilyona and Damien, her darkening gaze resembling Margot's as depression swelled, dangerously overwhelming. "I suddenly don't feel so well."

Of course the darker half of the normally reserved 1/2 demon was coming to the fore. He looked over Vliss with a hunger he had fought every moment. "Snap out of it Vliss." The gentle concern was replace with a bite.

Damien's harsh tone was a rarity and tears welled in her golden eyes as she shivered in response to his growl. Already feeling the pit of despair pull at her she whimpered and pulled back from him. There was a bit of a growl and those normally turquoise eyes were now red. He started stalking towards her, a small part of him screaming in denial internally.

"D-damien?" Fear blossoming as she moved back a hesitant step from the man she loved. Wide golden eyes flickered to one of her best friends, "Ilyona, what's going on?" And a dark voice inside told her it was all her fault anyways. She'd caused this with her inability to fully be his; she was at fault surely. She deserved violence and death.

The champagne took hold of the demonic half, the side he kept restrained. Granted that side actually agreed with Damien on something. There was a growl. "Mate."

"Ilyona..." She whimpered for help and turned to flee. Running from the man she would pledge herself too. A tiny sylph of a woman disappearing into the crowd, panic full fledged.

The fleeing form enraged the demon further. His skin taking on a red cast as he tore off in pursuit. Of course he was not caring who was in his path at this point.

She fled the growling rage of her lover, fear giving an edge to her flight and panicked sobs filling the air. Up the sweep of stairs and down a hall, she looked for a place to hide even though she knew she didn't deserve to survive.

He was stalking towards her hiding place. Enhanced senses making it easy to track his prey... his mate. The demon was at the fore and hungered.

She cowered in a dark alcove and fought to gather her magic to aid in her escape. The fear was making concentration impossible even as the dark voice of despair urged her to simply accept her fate, perhaps Damien would kill her and it was the least she deserved.

He pounced on her then, not giving her a chance to cast that magic. He wasn't letting her go either. Her scream echoed down the hall and throughout the ballroom. The scream was echoed by an inhuman roar.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-08-05 21:18 EST
The noise had been replaced with an eerie silence as the demon pulled the terrified young woman through the shadows. All it could think of was finding a lair and claiming her. The potion intensified the darkness, bringing the essence of the merged demons sides to the fore and all the young man could do was guide it to a safe location. He was helpless to stop the built up hunger and rage.

Yet, part of him did not want to either?

The demon emerged within the confines of an ancient keep, far removed from Rhydin. The scents were familiar to both sides, though only Damien could recognize them fully. It was his family home. He struggled to get free of the demonic grasp, only to be caged by the potion?s effects.

The demon had known the playroom was where he wanted to go. He wanted to chain his mate and claim her, as she was helpless in his possession. It sneered at the human half of his being, thinking him too weak to take what he wanted. Those red eyes raking over the earth spirit in his grasp as he chained her to the two poles of to the side of the room.

The Yugoloth had merged with the fledgling demon asserting its personality as the dominate one. Only the young man?s will was stronger and kept the demon at bay. The spiked champagne weakened that bound, abet temporarily.

With a wave of his hand and a soft word, her clothes fell from her body as if there was nothing holding them in place. There was a slow smirk to those reddened lips?

And the doors to the playroom swung shut seemingly of its own accord.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-08-06 03:35 EST
Moonlight and madness

Saphira raced through the thick underbrush, white fur and muscle silent save the occasional rustle of a leaf beneath a large paw. Lune glided overhead keeping abreast of his mistress, and the two young pups making the attempt to emulate their mother, with less success. The twins were almost as swift, but less silent to be sure. Saphira huffed a low sound to them to try and be mindful of paws they had yet to fully grow into. The response.....slightly fewer crashing sounds and breaking twigs. Suddenly she froze, with a low growl, the target of this outing in sight. A stag with a magnificent rack, proudly standing in a small clearing by a stream. It was positively picturesque, save for the three wolves stalking him.

The moon had almost reached it's apex, veiled in a swath of silver-grey clouds, remnants of a passing storm that had blown itself out mere hours ago. The ghostly orb hung prominently in the sky, illuminating Lune's feathers as he circled. Saphira's pendant glowed slightly, tingling as it worked to keep her from making the change involuntarily. The girls had no such charm. She lunged out of the cover of the brush toward the stag who jolted, nearly overstepping and staggering a second before bolting. Sadie and Adora were right with her, just as the Moon touched it's zenith and they were mid-clearing. The clouds broke bathing them all in pale light.

When the sound of paws behind her halted she turned, thinking some harm had befallen them. Ready to scold them for not taking this night hunt seriously she never had the chance, frozen in horror as her girls cried out, howling in agony, and writhed upon the still damp earth. She had no time! She threw her head up howling desperately to Lune. The owl started, his smooth circling changed to a tighter lower spiral as sharp eyes assessed the situation. The owl, no fool then took wing as fast as he could to seek either Albion, Kish, or Mystri. Then to the mistress of the infirmary, there might be casualties to worry over when all is said and done.

The sound of breaking bones rent the air like cracks of lightning, accompanied by the sickening symphony of shredding flesh. The cries of pain became enraged, as the change took hold for the first time. No longer cute balls of fur, but changed lycans, each the size of a large pony. Claws and tails like their blood-sire, were lethal additions to the already well-known common lycan form. Jaws parted, teeth exposed as each girl-turned-beast threw her head back and howled. Saphira knew she could not stop the change but she could hopefully stop her babies from going on a rampage. In a flash the twins were tearing toward familiar territory, the school, with Saphira hot on their tracks.

Sadie and Adora were intent, their minds bent on one thing, killing and feeding. They tore over the ground hardly touching it as they moved, racing for the school, and may the Gods help whoever met them first. It so happened the first unfortunate was a quiet novice named Zairan. The young man was out collecting night blooming flowers for potions class when the two creatures burst upon him, snarling with bloodlust and rage, driven mad by the moon. They had hurled themselves violently into him, knocking him into the dirt. Zairan landed on his left hand first, the awkward angle making it the worst place to land and there was the audible snap of bone. Zairan tried to crawl back, reaching for his wand, spell almost on his lips to destroy the beasts when a third beast came barreling down at the trio.

The two smaller ones he might have handled but this - this beast was enormous But the beast wasn't even looking at him, it was focused on the two smaller creatures stalking him. The first lunged, jaws snapping violently on air rather than his throat as Saphira bore down on her, knocking her away. The scorpion's tail however was not so unfortunate in it's aim, tagging Zairan on the right thigh, eliciting a cry of pain as it burned and froze at the same time. He tried to cast a spell to banish the beasts, but as poison spread through his body, and his vision swam. The last thing he remembered was the darkening silhouettes of the three beasts fighting, and the echoing of roars and growls.

((Sorta cross posted in lycan legacy, those of you mentioned, feel free to jump in!))

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-08-06 05:35 EST
Zairan Awoke in the infirmary, his stomach roiling violently as he opened his eyes. Everything was still dark He wanted to speak, to call Evahlys, and instead felt hot bile rising in his throat, her barely managed to turn enough to the side to avoid soiling his bed. A firm hand was suddenly on his quaking shoulder as he vomited. Just don't do that when Vesper is around. The voice was male, but not one Zairan recognized. "Who are you?" Was finally croaked out once the stinging of his throat subsided. "And why can't I see?" "I'm Kish. And don't worry about your vision, that'll wear off as the poison does. Saphira sent for me before you were attacked, you were lucky I heard the fight. Another fifteen minutes and you would be dead."

Zairan shook his head - and instantly regretted it heaving the scant remainder of what his tortured stomach contained. This time it sounded as though there was a bucket employed. No doubt the work of one of Evahlys' aides. already he could smell disinfectant as his transgression against the floor was cleaned away. "Who's Saphira?" Finally gasped. Kish paused then asked. "First, what do you remember?" Zairan frowned. "Not much...I was out for an assignment..and there were these two beasts, then a third one appeared.....it..it was huge. Kish sighed. "Alright the two smaller ones were Sadie and Adora. They're actually in the beds next to yours.

Zairan tried to jolt. "Those monsters are here? Quick, my wand!" "They are not monsters, they are little girls. Surely you know of lycans, yes? They happen to be of that lineage. As to your previous question, Saphira, is the big one you saw last night, and you owe her your life. If she had not stopped our daughters...." "Wait, your daughters? You had offspring with a lycan?!" Disgust in Zairan's voice. "That lycan saved your life! Furthermore, technically they are not mine by blood." Kish said tightly. "I suggest you rest and regain your strength, you will get worse before you get better, according to Mistress Evahlys.

Zairan could not relax knowing the ones who nearly killed him were in the beds beside him, recovering from their ordeal of going through their first change, and the fight they had forced on their mother, who now lay in the bed furthest from him. If he had known Saphira were also there he would have cursed her for the vile spawn she had issued. He went over in his mind again and again the things he would say to that monster if he got the chance. He had no idea how wrong his preconceptions of her were.

Evahlys fretted over Zairan, throughout the day, as well as Adora and Sadie, and Saphira, who's wounds were healing unusually slowly from her daughter's venom. The three were largely unconscious for a long while, even as Kish stopped in between classes to check on them. He did not speak to Zairan, angry the other young man could have such contempt for someone who saved his life and now lay gravely injured. I should be used to this. He thought angrily. I hate it, no matter how sweet or smart they are.....people don't understand. His thoughts were inturrupted by Evahlys. "Come now, Kish, hovering won't help her or the girls. Get some rest."

Kish reluctantly nodded before leaning down to kiss Sadie then adora'ss foreheads, and finally Saphira's/ "I love you girls, and Saph, don't you give up on me honey." His throat suddenly felt tight as tears threatened. "I love you, Saphira." With that he turned and quickly left for his room. Zairan listened to this while feigning sleep, wondering how this Kish could profess to love a lycan, in public of all places. Just as he began to drift off the last thing he heard was Evahlys barking orders and something about Adora.......

Keric St.Clair

Date: 2011-08-07 13:38 EST
Of all the fascinating rooms, chambers, sights and sounds the Institute of Arcane Principle had to offer, his favorite amongst them was the Gardens of Shah. There was a grim tranquility associated with the propagated oasis of dark allure; the splendor of haunting blooms overshadowed by the dangerous curve of thorns and briars. It was deceitful in its beauty, and he could respect that.

He'd been looking for Cassidy earlier in the day, if for no other reason than to find someone who he actually knew. She was, of course, preoccupied with matters pertaining to House Satyrkiss, which was to be expected. She'd made it very clear before he arrived that she was fully divested into furthering the St. Clair name pertaining to the House, which explained her prolonged absence. She already achieved the rank of Mage, to the eternal praise of his Mother, which Keric found curious considering her normally capricious attitude. It was his assumption that she probably found someone to tutor her...

...and by tutor, he figured that someone else was doing the work for her.

Still, that was probably unfair. For all of her flightiness, Cassidy was a rather accomplished wizard. He smirked at the thought: Who the hell was he to criticize her? She'd ascended to Mage and he was still just a lowly Novitiate.

Lowly...

With the hour growing long and the start of another class just on the other side, he gathered his things - satchel and instrument case - and headed into the main building, drawing the fold of his robes tightly around his slender frame.

Students moved in a powerful current. Divided down the center of the hall they stirred with a collective strength that made going against the grain impossible; escape feasible only by pouring down adjacent hallways that broke off of the main corridor. Keric stepped in and was swept away, tucked between two students who moved with a hectic velocity.

He matched their pace, not willing to fall behind and possibly be trampled to death, while searching through the weaving heads for the appropriate passage to his next class. He could see it just up ahead, and sought to maneuver himself to the outside edge of the mass, slithering through those around him. When it was time, he stepped free and out of the main corridor through the archway that led to a corresponding entry.

He was just barely across the threshold when he was slammed into by a much larger form; his case and satchel jarred free of his grasp from the heavy impact.

"What the hell?!" The monstrous student roared as he spun. "Why the hell did you do that? I could have caught that!"

Unconcerned with the other student or whatever game he was playing Keric found his case not far away, the plunge having jolted the latches free to spill the violin it contained to the floor.

"Hey!" The large student snapped as he reached out and took Keric by the shoulder, spinning the Novitiate around to face him. "I asked you a question!"

Keric took a moment to survey the scene. Over the shoulder of this mammoth aggressor stood another trio of students not too far away. Just off to the side of them was a quartet of young females who, he assumed, this lot of reprobates were attempting to charm. And now, having been made a fool in some aspect by running into him, this colossal pinhead sought to rectify his miscue by hounding and harassment what he assumed was the easiest.

Typical.

"You've got about three seconds to answer me before I start pounding your face in." He said with a smirk. "One..."

As intimidating as this student's physical prowess was, Keric had seen far worse along the outskirts of Rhy'din. His only impression was that he appeared terribly unimpressed. "I'm not sure what answer you're looking for. I didn't do anything to you. I came around the corner." He lifted his bow to point over his shoulder, having been able to procure it and the violin before being jerked around. "My next class is through there."

"Two."

An assortment of snickers and giggles came from those who gathered behind the would-be attacker, seeking to find a good vantage point for the event about to go down.

Keric glanced to them before looking back. "There's no other explanation."

"Thre- hey wait, what's that you got there?" His question was distilled by the arrival of a chuckle. "Is that a violin?"

Another volley of snickers was sent his way. "It is."

"I didn't realize you were the entertainment!" He bellowed. "I tell you what, how about I don't smash your pretty face in and instead you can play me a little ditty that'll make these girls want to dance. Sound good?"

Keric considered it momentarily before lifting the violin and propping it on his shoulder. "I can play you a song, though it is only for you."

"For me?"

His chin found the rest and the bow was slid across the top of the instrument. "Yes. Just you." A slow drag brought to life a subtle strum. "It'll be enjoyable."

Magic emerged from that languid harmony, surging outward to envelope its target. Keric was only partially watching though, immersed in the creation of such arcane tunes. The bow in his hand, Vibius tucked beneath his chin, it was all so ?wondrous.

The disinterest mixed with irritation that marred the larger student?s face was quickly replaced by shock and awe as his arms lifted into the air, control similar to a puppet by strings. Wide eyes snapped around as he began to dance with dramatic comicality, searching for aid from those who stood behind him. They weren?t interested in helping him, however, instead choosing to point and laugh as they had at Keric just moments before.

The spectacle only went on for a minute or so before the bow was taken from its caress of the strings, Keric?s full attention once more returned to the one-time aggressor. ?A bit more humorous than our earlier attempt, don?t you think??

?Let me go!? He roared.

?But you haven?t even seen the best part yet, friend.? Keric smirked as he sheathed the bow inside his belt. His fingers came to rest upon the violin, and with the curl of his index finger he plucked the chord.

Plunk.

The large student answered the call, curling his right hand into a fist and punching himself in the face.

The silence of those surrounding him was momentary, suddenly erupting into boisterous laughter and snickers once the surprise of the action subsided.

Shell-shocked, the student blinked away the moisture forming in his eyes. ?Ouch!?

?That?s just the right hand.? Keric said as he moved his fingers down the strings, from one end to the other. ?Here?s the left.?

Plink.

The left hand clenched and struck, another punch to his own face.

?Ack! Stop!?

More chirping erupted, with some of his fellow students going so far as to mock the action.

?I get it!? The student said, straining against the control of the marionette magic fustily. ?I shouldn?t have messed with you.?

Plunk. ?No, you shouldn?t have.? Plink.

Plunk, plink, plunk, plink, plunk, plink?

With an alternating rhythm the student began to pummel himself; flesh was reddening, then bruising, then splitting, then bleeding. One eye swelled shut, and then the other. The breaking of cartilage angrily curved his nose, and the color of lips became darker, soaked in blood. He tried to beg but words were gargled and slurred, expelled as nothing more than sickly sound.

The laughing died off. Quickly.

?plink, plunk, plink, plunk!

He would have dropped long ago, though the power of those incorporeal puppet strings kept him aloft. Instead he stood with a weaving stance that drifted in and out of consciousness.

?Hey man,? Said one of those students who were standing around watching. Not nearly as tall as his brethren though still larger than Keric, he stepped off the wall and made his way toward the Bard. ?He?s had enough!?

Keric waited until this new adversary moved within range before dropping his hand to the hilt of his bow. With one smooth movement he drew it from his belt and angled it across the space between the two, slashing the student?s tie cleanly at the knot.

Had the student not jolted away from the strike, it would have been more than just his attire that was sliced.

?A lesson,? Keric said as he pointed at the group with the tip of his bow, moving across the crowd one by one. ?The only thing more subjective then music, is comedy. Be wary of those you seek to victimize with your humor. It could end?badly.?

Plunk.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-08-07 17:54 EST
Dianthus Wing - Jacen's suite (continued)

"First rule when dealing with the Devil: Don't."

Colonel Madden, "Solo"

He will never belong to any but himself - this is a truth that has ruled his life from beginning until now.

So it wasn't those words that made him hesitate. Those that tried had failed, no matter how they might have thought they could bind him, and they had been more powerful forces than the teasingly tempting form under his hand that he's leaning over. Only one has been able to thus far, and that one had been forced to strip his own son of one his powers and seal off an entire plane of existence to do it.

Even then, he had remained defiant, and had only grudgingly agreed to the terms of his release...more because the stench of the place was making him sick than anything else.

But his blood...

...there are a lot of things that could be done with that.

The myriad array of magic runs through his mind in the bat of an eyelash, all the things he knows of the many uses of blood, even such a small thing as a drop. Those things are all dangerous, particularly to him. It's the second time he's tempted to do just what she suggested and throw her out on her ear, leaving her naked and dejected in the hall to find another to work her wiles on.

Or, even better, to send her into Grant Palamine's rooms, right next door to his own. Such a feat would be ridiculously easy and ultimately amusing.

Remember why you are here.

The voice that echoed in his head then was soft, a thrumming, undeniably entrancing golden thunder in his ears, his mind, unheard by anyone else. His father's voice, which he had not heard since he had been sent to this place.

He remembered. It had all started with some punk showing off for his buddies, and had ended with two near-divine agents of an Order locked away, their powers stripped away from them and imprisoned in a corner of a realm so dark and deep that only a god had been able to release them. They had been forced to send the embodiments of war themselves to deal with him, gods in their own right, and even then it had been the barest of victories.

That was why he was sent here - when he really got going, in the heat of the moment and under the darkest of influences, none had power over him.

Not even himself. Too easily influenced by the darker side of his nature, when the blood came up, he was not just trouble...he was dangerous.

Those thoughts flashed through his head in a second, perhaps two. Just long enough to be marked as considering, not truly long enough to be thought of as a hesitation.

There was no need to fear - when it came down to the moment, if she thought she had control over him that he wasn't willing to allow, she would find out in short order how wrong she was.

That wasn't what she was here for, though. Not now, anyway, if ever. If she wanted a playing piece, she could have it - she'd soon discover he wasn't a pawn to be sacrificed at the first opportunity.

As the hand wielding the long, thick mass of the chosen implement dropped between her thighs to drag the shaft over the front of those flimsy panties, the other came up, two fingers on either side of the pin while his finger paused, poised over the tip of the needle, and there for a second, as his eyes bored into hers again, they flashed, from the pale silvery-blue to an almost adamantine shine. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, steady and smooth, touched perhaps a bit by the heat of lust at the sight of the scantily clad mage laid out before him.

"You can have what you wish from me, Callisto, as often as you wish. A playing piece, a sex partner, a willing participant in any scheme you want."

And then he struck, swift enough to make a cobra envious, moving so fast that one might have sworn they heard that distinctive pop! of displaced air that seems to accompany his appearances so often.

One moment he was sitting next to her, all teasing touches and seductive smiles - the next he had her firmly by the neck with the hand that had been so teasingly caressing and stroking between her thighs, somehow having moved from sitting beside her to atop and astride her long, lean figure in an instant, the other hand pinning the one holding the needle to the pillows behind her head.

The smile that lit up his features now had been seen once at the school, by the Necromancy teacher, a hint of the darkness that none had yet to truly see from him. Most might have thought of him as an annoyance, at most, an egomaniacal twerp that enjoyed starting fights just to see the chaos and watch others foam impotently at the mouth. Callisto would be one of the privileged few to see that there was more, much more under that skin, something to be wary of letting out.

The eyes and the voice, they went from heated lust to icy warning in that same eyeblink.

"But the first time you try to f*ck me..."

He didn't finish that sentence. The implication should be perfectly clear.

And an instant later he moved again, not giving her time to grow indignant, just to give her a taste of what lay in wait beneath the arrogant exterior. Her hand was released, and without a second's hesitation his forefinger moved, tapping the tip of the needle to let flow a drop of his own blood, and in the same movement he let loose her neck from his grasp to wrap it around the back of her neck and entwine in her hair, pulling her lips up roughly to meet his as the rest of his body pressed down.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-08-07 19:38 EST


Well, that had certainly been an ... educational evening. Callisto lay back on her own bed with a delicious groan, revelling in the ache of her limbs that told her how well earned her weariness was. He may be young yet, but Jacen Balthazar was definitely worth her trouble. And now he was a member of SatyrKiss, and just the fact that he was bolstered her position and made her that little bit more formidable a target between the ever-feuding sorceresses.

The pin engraved with the House insignia she had left with him; it was his now, a sign of his pledge to SatyrKiss. It was ritual that called for his blood, nothing more. Each pin was enchanted to bind itself only to the bearer of the first blood it tasted; in the moment of that blood being spilt upon the needle-sharp point, that person's name was inscribed upon the rolls of SatyrKiss members.

Of course, she hadn't explained this to Jacen until the very deeps of the night. Callisto had been having far too much fun being the soft and willing recipient of his barely concealed darkness - darkness she knew she had stoked with her unwise implication of a wish to control him - to explain that all she had done was enroll him with that absorbed drop of blood.

His words preyed on her mind. "You can have what you wish from me, Callisto, as often as you wish. A playing piece, a sex partner, a willing participant in any scheme you want." It was an offer that had to be too good to be true; she'd worked too long, too hard, invested too much in her position here to risk losing her place because of an unwary word. But the threat was understood, and yes, she had full respect for the power he wielded. Perhaps, when the time came, she would bring him into her confidence. Perhaps.

For now, however, she had an assignment to complete, and an Overseer to inform of the newest addition to SatyrKiss' numbers. But first ... she really needed a long, hot soak.

Oh, yes. Very talented, indeed.

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-08-10 18:49 EST
{Viperfang Lounge}

"It is quite simple really, Grant." The cultured voice of the Carpathian Mage ring into the room. The voice that was sweet on the ears and would not fail to charm had she placed the compulsion within it. She lounged with a goblet in her hand. She was settled in with some of her lesson plans as she watched Grant sulk.

"I fail to see how..." He whined a bit. "I was not in control of my... self."

She waved it off, "So apologize and sacrifice a little pride." Those golden eyes bored into the Apprentice. "The problem is, I fail to see how you can be effective to the house if people cannot get close to you at all without becoming ill."

"Still... I don't know how this is happening, I don't see..."

"That is correct, you do not see but everyone else does. You will have to apologize to her. Frankly, she is being very lenient on this matter."

He choked a little bit. "You call this lenient?"

There was that smile on the Carpathian's lips. "Oh stop whining, you are beginning to sound like Margot. Had someone attempted to tup me like a common whore in a very public setting..." She paused for effect.

Then her eyes flashed revealing the predator to the apprentice, something she kept under tight control. "I would have removed said body part painfully and fed it back to the offender."

He shied a way a bit as the look faded, "You are one scary woman, Elizabeth."

She was used to the fear, not adverse to playing on it to her advantage. "So I've been told."

She knew it was why the other houses never approached her for membership. She had the lineage for Gorgonhorn, the Resources and beauty for Satrykiss and Stormsabre had not yet been formed. Only Viperfang recognized what she was and the benefit.

She did not enjoy it, but she would do what she had to to survive.

Damien Tanner

Date: 2011-08-14 16:58 EST
The potion had been slow in releasing the young man from its grasp. The demon had bond him within its effects and he had been a unwilling participant in this. He could only watch in horror as his darkness sated itself. It was only with that final release and the snapping of the bond from Brais to him, did the demon?s attention divert long enough for the young mage to act and lock it back down.

The crimson faded from his skin and he removed the chains holding his love fast. This was not how he wanted things to happen. He had not wanted to hurt her and felt ill as he brought her from those poles to rest on the floor. He gathered a bit of magic to wrap her in a robe and cradled her close to him. The only nod to modesty was the pair of briefs that appeared on his form, more to keep from distressing her further.

It was nothing to lift her close to him. He moved for a shadow and brought her to his private suite within the manor. They would need privacy and time to sort through this. His first thought was to sooth the inevitable aches. He needed to care for her, take away the violence from earlier.

All the while, he was vowing to hunt down the one that did this and make them suffer. He did not rouse himself to vengeance often except when it came to those close to his heart.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-08-23 17:05 EST


Revision for Smout'n's examinations always seemed to involve more theory than practice for Callisto. The past weeks had been quiet ones, perfect for such academic pursuits. Veronique and Emilina seemed to have backed off from one another for the time being; even Gina was having to make do with minor gossip rather than trying and failing to keep the big secrets she intentionally overheard. Cassidy hadn't been seen for a while, but then, with certain exams coming up, she was no doubt sequestered with tutor after tutor in an attempt to scrape through properly this time.

So, with the newly fragile peace reigning in House SatyrKiss, Callisto had pounced on the opportunity to raise her own grades, however little that might be. She was a natural at her areas of focus, though the real challenge would come when she gained Sorceress rank. The thought of having to try and teach Divination when she considered the subject to be less than useless was a daunting one.

It was the smell that first intruded itself upon her awareness. A sickly scent, undercut with the familiar stench of rotten flesh, yet overlaid with overbearing tones of musk and ... was that lavender, too? She smirked to herself, not even bothering to raise her eyes from her notes. She knew who this was.

"Yes, Apprentice Palamine?" She glanced up, and promptly burst out laughing.

Grant Palamine had not been having a particularly good time of it since the Masquerade. Unable to see, feel, or smell the vengeful gift Callisto had loosed upon him for his freedom with her person, he had spent the first few days in utter bemusement, unable to comprehend why his friends and lovers were avoiding him. When, finally, Grail had managed to work through his own gag reflex to tell his fellow apprentice what had been done to him, Grant had proceeded to lock himself in his rooms, refusing to come out. He hadn't dared try to visit revenge on Callisto for her illusion - she was more than capable of making it a reality for him.

When it had become clear that he was not going to come out at all, Elizabeth had taken it upon herself to talk to him firmly, and finally, after much stern discussion, he had come to a decision. He had to get Callisto to remove her illusion, and after hearing how Lucian Koth had managed it, Grant knew that the only way to get that done was to apologise to her. In person.

So he had doused himself in as much scent as he could lay his hands on, unaware of the revolting way it mingled with the miasma of rotting flesh that hung around him, and wrapped himself up in the red satin of one of his own bedsheets, as well as his novice cloak, covering his body from the top of his head to the floor beneath his feet. All that was visible of him was a thin line of his face, a gap through the cloth which his eyes could make use of. And having Callisto laugh at him as he stood there was doing nothing for his pride.

"Is something wrong, Apprentice Palamine?" she asked eventually, having gotten herself under control with a supreme effort.

"You know perfectly well what's wrong, you vengeful -" He broke off his snapped response, belatedly reminding himself that insulting her was not the best way to get the apology delivered.

Her brow rose as she looked at him, giving the disconcerting impression that she knew exactly what it was he had been about to say. But there was a grudging respect there, too; respect for the fact that he had come around to approaching her in a public place, however long it had taken him.

Grant cleared his throat, the defiant anger in his eyes fading slowly. "Mage Fairbourne," he began, lowering himself onto one knee before her, his head bowed, "my conduct on the night of the ViperFang Ball was unforgiveable, I know. Had I been in my right mind, I am certain that whatever vengeance you meted out upon me would have been as justified as that which I have suffered through these past months. There is nothing I can say in my defense, but that your beauty and sweetness that night drove me to the point of no return."

"My beauty has not changed, Apprentice Palamine," Callisto informed him in a cool voice, though she was slightly mollified by the obescience of his position. "My ... sweetness ... however, is non-existant."

"And I would have you no other way," he said hurriedly, trying not to compound his problems further. "Indeed, I know that without your consent I will never have you again. This is punishment enough, my lady. Humbly do I apologise for my behaviour toward yourself, and hopelessly do I beg your forgiveness."

She regarded him in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, reading his body language, repeating his words in her mind for every last nuance of meaning. He was left to kneel before her for several minutes more, as she unwound the illusion from him and released it. When, finally, she did speak, it was to offer a warning.

"Go back to ViperFang, Apprentice Palamine. But remember this - if, at any time, in any place, even years from now, I hear that you have treated any woman in the manner in which you dared to treat me, I will visit this curse upon you again. And in that moment, there will be no going back. You will be, to yourself, the handsomest of men; to all others, you will be nothing more than a rotting corpse. Do I make myself clear?"

He shuddered, a flurry of movement beneath his wrapping of satin and wool suggesting that if he nodded any more powerfully, his head may just topple off his shoulders. Callisto nodded to herself, and abruptly dismissed him from her mind, turning back to her books.

How long he knelt there, she could not say. But when, an hour or so later, she looked up, the newly-restored Apprentice Palamine was gone.

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2011-08-25 00:04 EST
Dianthus Wing

There was still - even now, weeks later - lingering traces of the heavy oils and incenses that had been trapped in this room from his initiation of sorts into the house of SatyrKiss. Not that he was complaining, mind you. He had been quite satisfied with that little escapade. The hours not spent in class since then had been spent working on the project he'd assigned himself - determining the range of subjects he would be creating his library for, researching techniques that he and Nil'aiha had covered for obtaining knowledge, and a few times going to talk to his fellow House member Rainar Pontius.

He'd found the young Mage receptive to his proposal, and surprisingly complimentary on the ambition of the project, though - like Nil'aiha and Mistress Vadten - he had assured the young demigod that this would be a project that would be difficult at best. On the subject of the books he was adamant - each would have to be created by hand, and of specific materials - the pages papyrus, the bindings silver, dragon hide and silk. The ink, he'd told Jacen, would work best if done in blood, and the Mage had given Jacen a range of types to choose from...the pen, however, he recommended be a flight feather from an eagle owl for purposes of the ritual, and would need to be crafted into a suitable writing instrument by hand as well.

The discussion had delved into some of what Nil'aiha had discussed with him, as well, and here Jacen had followed along carefully as Rainar told him that for each subject, the books would need a specific, unique ritual element that represented the subject matter to be drawn from that would have to be integrated into the book itself. That had intrigued Jacen greatly, and they had spent some time discussing the possibilities. He'd been impressed with the young mage's knowledge on the subject of creating magical items, and even moreso at the ingenuity and imagination Pontius had displayed as they talked - he'd been under the impression that all of the other students in this old crumbling asylum had been learning things by rote for so long that perhaps they had lost all capacity for creativity.

Well, except in the bedroom, apparently, if the sampling of the female student body he'd had to date was any indication.

The research had taken a few weeks, and it was only in the past few days that he'd managed to finish compiling it. Looking it over again, he shook his head. Mistress Mistmark would undoubtedly have a good portion of the materials in her stores of components, but there were more than a few things on his list that were decidedly unique and would not be easy to acquire at all.

But that was for future consideration - at the moment, he had other, more entertaining plans.

He checked his privacy wards first. Whatever else, he wanted to ensure there would be no eavesdropping of any kind - not because he feared retribution, but simply because he found it amusing to watch people scratch their heads whilst trying to figure out just where this entertaining and (probably) infuriating letter was coming from.

Pity they'd never know...at least, not until he wanted them to.

Ramblings From the Asylum
The Unofficial Newsletter of the IAP

Ascensions, Admissions, and Aftershocks

In our last edition, we covered the ViperFang Masquerade. Called a disaster by some, a success by other, and by still more a wildly entertaining time, nonetheless the repercussions of that event have been felt far and wide. Many of us will never be able to look at Thea Pausanias without remembering her hitting on everything with two legs and a male organ, and shuddering at the thought. Others may remember the departure of Damien and Vliss, whose screams echoed through the halls loud enough for everyone present to be able to surmise their activities, and who could forget the normally pleasant Quillyan and Cadence falling into a catfight on the floor?

And then, of course, the aftermath. Suspicion, rumors and speculation abounded about who could have committed the nefarious deed of spiking the champagne imbibed by all present, with the exception of those smart enough, late enough or with special dietary needs enough to escape being dosed. However, with no further news forthcoming, we are left with only our own musings to come to a possible conclusion. Was it Iameth, who arrived late to the party, possibly to avoid the concoction and still be able to enjoy the show? Elizabeth, whose dietary requirements would ensure she would not have to drink the champagne? Leda, who was present and opted not to sip from her cup? And then, of course, there were many students who did not show up at all. Could it have been one of them?

In the wake of the ball, of course, there have been a few things that have cropped up. One thing that may arouse further suspicion is the expulsion from House ViperFang of one Isabel Hawthorne, who has not been seen or heard from much since the ball. Those that have seen her have described her as behaving 'strangely shy' and 'skittish,' though no specific examples were given.

And of course, there was the much more obvious, rather disgusting curse cast upon Grant Palamine of ViperFang, which caused at first a stir of revulsion amongst students and teachers alike, and then raised a further outcry from the lofty residents of Dianthus Wing when he opted to confine himself to his rooms (though the rumors indicate that his teachers banned him from their classes when even they could not ignore the stomach-turning stench and appearance of the normally comely mage).. At least one was heard to refer to his presence there as a 'putrid, disgusting stench that would lurk about door that made his rooms unapproachable.' Fortunately, the young mage seems to have rid himself of the problem. Perhaps next time, Grant, you should get checked out by a doctor, have your shots, and from now on avoid the WestEnd brothels. Or, at the very least, avoid taking advantage of a powerful female mage like a cheap whore in public (or anywhere else, really).

And it's time for ascensions! With students all over the school frantically cramming for exams and working on their projects to get themselves ahead, things seem to have quieted down. Those whose ascensions include producing a unique and original work of magic are keeping mum, probably to avoid their ideas being stolen or disrupted by others, but at least the infighting among houses seems to have come to a temporary standstill. Others are driving themselves mad with Master Smout'n's legendary exams and stressing out over what possibly life-endangering tests Mistress Lillura may subject them to, rather than looking to undercut their fellow students. It seems that unity has been achieved, for the time being, though how long after ascensions that lasts is anyone's guess.

And finally, we have new students at the school! One student in particular made a smashing entrance, by the name of Keric St. Clair, half-brother to the lovely Cassidy St. Clair. Students present at the incident reported that the handsome young Novice plays an absolutely devastating violin, as evidenced by the playing of a single song which turned a much bigger and rougher student into his personal marionette, making him do a rather silly little dance. The fun didn't stop there, however, as Keric proceeded to turn fun into blood as he made the older student beat himself with his own fists until his face was a nearly unrecognizable, smashed and scrambled mass of painful injuries, which will probably require some extensive reconstructive surgery, or at least a lengthy stay in the infirmary. It looks like Esteban, the Institute's current premier bard and master of musical arts, has some competition on his hands!

That concludes this issue. Stay tuned next time when we report on who ascends, who descends, who sucks, and who swallows!

With a grin as he read it over, he nodded to himself, performing the magical cleansing to erase any way of tracing the letter back to him, and swept the copies across the school.

With a smile he turned to gather up his list of materials to take to Mistress Mistmark. "Happy reading, IAP."

Vliss Arcanum

Date: 2011-09-03 16:59 EST
{Laurus Wing}

Lazily she drew his name in the richly verdant soil of her bedroom floor.

Damien...

Above her the bed that had held them only hours earlier swung in gentle suspension by ropy vines twined thicker since the addition of her lover. Her lips twitched in a gamine little smile at the thought of the need for added support.

Quinnon's sleek head parted the waters of the pond surrounded by ferns and other lushly green growth. Prismatic eyes shifted through a variety of colors as she cooed, "You're thinking about him again."

She didn't have it in her to deny it, the rush of pleasure apparent in the I'm-caught-grin that drew the words into a song, "Busted."

Coltish limbs unraveled as she rolled about onto her stomach and let her fingers dance along the rippling waves created in the pool by Quinnon's emergence.

"He makes you happy." It was a simple statement but revealed Quinnon's attempt to understand the social intricacies that normally eluded her.

"Yes. Yes he does." Vliss confirmed with what was dangerously close to a sappy sigh.

"When he's not brooding." Quinnon pushed with the tactless ability of those who lacked an understanding of the delicacy of emotions.

"Even then." Vliss quickly defended Damien with the vibrant emotions of a newly engaged person. She'd hear no wrong when associated with her love even when she privately admitted that his brooding worried her. Seconds after that thought bloomed further she felt it necessary to explain to her dear friend, "though I do worry about him when he's..."

How did she explain it to Quinnon? Damien's dark moods were always something he had struggled through and after the night of the ViperFang Masquerade she would catch him looking at her through a dark pall more often than before. She knew that he worried about how he had hurt her. He also fought against the demonic side of his nature that had flourished that night. And while she understood his concern, she felt no such darkness. No, if not for the deceitful manipulations of that evening she would not be bonded to him.

The bond between them whispered wickedly across her senses and warned that he approached. Her body responding with a joyous enthusiasm that sent her ricocheting up to her feet, the long ribboned length of her golden hair spilling about her delicate frame, "He's coming."

Quinnon watched through everchanging eyes, the lids of which slid shut and opened on a vertical glide, as Vliss darted for the door to her private chamber eagerly. Whether she was offended by the long silence of her friend's private thoughts, or this abandonment at the return of her lover, she gave no sign as she simply slid back into the waters of the pool and gave them their privacy.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-09-11 11:48 EST
An Empty Hall

The conversation with Albion, Esteban, and Damien still lingered well after the evening had dwindled away.

"Are you worried about having so many within your House seek advancement to Sorcerer?"

It was an easy question to dismiss at the time, focused as she was on seeing that the gentlemen all were on target with their own Ascensions. She shouldn't have held any worry for that particular trio, as Albion was advancing far beyond anyone's expectations as usual, and Esteban was demonstrating a focus that hinted at both he and Angel's dedication, and Damien had never backed down from anything as far as Fleur knew.

Later, upon meeting with Uziya (her first holdout), she'd found herself considering the implications of his former girlfriend ascending. Would Tiatari seek to create her own House? Or worse? Seek to rival her for Overseer? And what had Albion meant when he'd asked after Brais' thoughts on the matter? Should she be worried about Angel and Damien? And what of Uziya's other former girlfriend? Vliss was a mage as well after all.

The thoughts were enough to keep her up and she realized with some dismay that she had not spoken with Vliss or Tiatari regarding their Ascension. Finding time in her schedule, she'd sought out the Earth Elementalist first and that conversation had led them here in this dusty forgotten hallway, one of many that could be found within the warren of the Institute.

"Here." Vliss waved a hand toward the darkness that seemed impenetrable by light, turning golden eyes back upon the undeniably beautiful Fleur Rousseau.

"Here?" The Overseer of StormSabre lifted a brow in question, the expressive set of her mauve mouth revealing her obvious disbelief in the quirked curl of plump lips.

"Yes. Here." Vliss smirked a little and lifted a hand to summon the pull of the Earth around her. The ground shifted, rumbled, and bucked into motion.

Stumbling, Fleur responded with an immediate barrage of abjuration magic, one hand flung out to keep her balance while the sylph-like form of the Earth elementalist barely responded.

A large portion of the floor before them rippled and rolled before the rocks curled back in on themselves, unfurling to reveal the stone steps that led downward.

Crystalline blue eyes widened and locked on amused gold ones as the hidden chamber was revealed, "How did you find this?" Fleur gasped as the ground subsided beneath her feet.

"The stones told me." Vliss shrugged a slender set of delicate shoulders before lifting the length of her skirt in one hand and began to descend.

The statement was no more odd than the entire jaunt had proven to be so far, Fleur reminded herself. She'd simply meant to question Vliss in regards to her Ascension and had found herself unraveling her fears and concerns to the surprisingly complacent and concerned Vliss. With Brais no longer a contention between them, and Vliss gloriously enamored of Damien, the two had discovered an affinity for each other. Somewhere in the conversation Fleur had voiced her worry that StormSabre had no common room to the House to which Vliss had suggested a field trip.

Leaving her thoughts to buzz about her, Fleur followed Vliss in the descent. A whispered soft incantation allowed billowing flutters of light to spill out before them. Like winged butterflies, the glowing splotches of energy illuminated a large room, dust-covered and barren.

The two women came to a halt in the center of the chamber, turning about in concentric circles as they perused their surroundings, "It's perfect." Fleur breathed.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-09-12 07:20 EST
Saphira was still sleeping, the effects of the medicine Evahlys administered keeping her in a deep dreamless state. So there was not even a hint of stirring when Vesper settled herself between her darling pups and explained she was their granny. Sadie was cautious at first, but Adora was delighted by the idea. The stories Alaric read them having prompted a desire for those bonds as well. "Granny Fey" She murmured. "Really? Like unca Alaric's storybooks?" There was faintly a familiar scent about this small woman, perhaps the blood that coursed through their veins, that of their sire, a scent on Vesper was familiar. "Do you love us like the grannies in the stories?" Adora finally chirped bright eyed. Sadie was more cautious. "How come momma never said anything about you, then?"

The young girl's eyes flicking to her slumbering mother then back to Vesper as she sat up, that wicked scorpion tail shifting beneath her sheet to rise up and then flop into her own lap. She began to toy with the protective enchanted wraps that prevented accidental stings. "Daddy never said we had a granny either." Sadie stated boldly. She was definitely the denubae's daughter. Bold and unafraid, but with her mother's sharp mind and wit. Adora seemed momentarily disappointed. The prospect of their mother hiding this making her excitement waver. Sartha's obvious disgruntles huffing sounding from nearby as Evahlys' voice floated over this conversation. "Sartha, quit squirming!" the following bellow had Adora flinching while Sadie never batted an eye.

Sartha's angry bellow followed. Damn it woman, that burns!!" likely in response to some potion or tonic to kill the lice. Sadie's eyes fell back to Vesper joining Adora's gaze as the girls waited expectantly for an explanation. After all, they had never heard of Vesper before now...

Bayliss Cartier

Date: 2011-09-20 20:27 EST
Laurus Wing

If there was anything she had learned from being in prep schools and military institutions during her short life it was how to make a bed.

Perfunctory. Her comforter was nothing more than black and teal striped wool blanket.

Luxury. Her sheets were twelve hundred thread count Egyptian cotton.

It didn't matter though she'd still make her bed the same, tight enough to bounce a quarter off of. And there she stood staring at her neatly made bed because she wasn't sure what to do next.

She had only met one of her wing-mates, Emilina. The reception had not gone swimmingly. In fact, Bayliss had felt like an intruder on the premise.
So beyond the necessary hello's and name introductions- there had not been much conversation. She even tried to ask about the spell book and wand, but Emilina dismissed her inquiries and told her to speak with Vliss or Ashriel about such things. This was right before she disappeared out into the hallway without so much as a 'See you later. Nice to have met you.'

Bayliss was beginning to doubt she even belonged here. She figured she could just hide her abilities like she always had. There wasn't any reason to go actually go to school for it.

Except, her brother's parting words to her rang through her head.

"Bayliss, sis... I mean it. This is your last chance. You blow this. And well, you're on your own. I can't help you anymore."

Another failure on the list of things Bayliss did not succeed in.

But, at least she could bounce a quarter off her bed.

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-09-25 18:51 EST
Where to find Grant?

Woefully familiar with his deficient scholastic inclinations, Quillyan seriously doubted that, like most other students, he?d be in class -- after all, it was the middle of the afternoon.

Come to think of it, the bastard might still be asleep.

She resolved herself to seeking out his quarters, but as soon as she set her mind to this task, she realized that she hadn?t the faintest clue where he roomed. One of the large and luxurious dormitory wings, no doubt, but there were at least a dozen of those, and she had neither the time nor the conviction to go knocking on every door. When he mentored her, he was unavoidable, always managing to hunt her down to issue instructions or collect assignments. Never once was she obliged to seek him out. Hell, he was impossible to escape.

She sighed and slumped against a stone column outside of the library, watching a sparse collection of students - some alone, others in pairs - pass. Yona?s assertion that Grant fabricated the tale of their tryst had left her dizzy with surprise, splitting deep fissures in the lonely wall of guilt she?d been building for months. She knew she deserved the truth - moreover, she deserved to get the truth from Grant.

A pretty mage exited the library, a stylized ?V? of dark gemstones glittering upon a delicate silver chain looped around her throat.

ViperFang. Of course. The parlor. If Grant wasn?t there, she?d at least be able to find someone who could tell her which wing he occupied.

***

While she?d never before been to the ViperFang parlor, it looked much like she?d imagined it - dark luxury dripping with power and history, crowded with sensual shadows despite the daylight hour. As her crystalline-blue eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the novice initially believed it to be empty - until she heard an eruption of feminine giggles, followed by a flirty pluck of piano keys, from another room to the left, open to the main lounge by a large, arching doorway.

This she approached cautiously, unable to yet see the forms associated with the laughter.

?Here, sit here. On my lap.?

That was definitely Grant. The tempo of her steps increased, the sharp heels of her shoes snapping boldly against the floor, warring with the girlish laughter to be the prevailing echo.

Quillyan halted in the ornate doorway, her stance demanding indisputable attention as she planted her hands upon the curve of her hips and her feet solidly at shoulders?-width. As she beheld her once-mentor, seated at a large grand piano and charmingly corralling a young novice onto his lap, her expression grew cold.

?Grant, I need to talk to you,? she interrupted, drawing surprise from both parties: the apprentice and his companion.

?Ah, Quillyan,? he greeted her, his laughter dying away slowly, his suave tone combating her obvious displeasure. ?Have you missed me??

?Only when I?m wishing I was just a bit more miserable,? she responded flatly, already gesturing to the girl. ?Will your friend give us a minute??

?Oh, you know it takes longer than that, my dear.? He smirked.

The redhead turned her gaze to the novice. ?Leave now,? she commanded, firmly but not exactly unkindly. Though they held the same rank, the authority in Quillyan?s demeanor had the other girl rising and stalking out with a subdued glower.

?You lied to me,? she snapped once the girl was gone, moving a few intimidating steps in Grant's direction.

?About what?? he sighed as he turned back to the piano, the accusation eliciting a notable lack of shock.

?We never slept together.?

?We didn?t?? he asked, hitting a handful of single notes to form a simple, morose melody.

?No, we didn?t.? Quillyan leaned down next to him, angrily stilling his fingers with hers, causing a cacophonous crash against the keyboard. ?Did we??

?I guess not.? He tried to avoid looking at her, instead offering a final attempt at slyness in the form of his most handsome smile: ?But we still can if you want.?

?Do you have any idea what you put me through?? she growled, rage bubbling in her voice, her fingernails digging painfully into his hand.

?Sorry,? the artist responded simply, his mien again subdued. After his experience will Callisto, he found himself much less inclined to tempt the ire of beautiful women. The apology, however, did little to placate Quillyan?s anger, and her tongue, her fingertips, itched to unleash the most brutal spells she could muster.

But she didn?t. Exacting a terrible retribution still wouldn?t change the past - all it would do was get her in trouble with the administration. Instead, she released his hand and retreated a couple of steps.

?F**k you, Grant,? she snapped coldly. Then, she turned on her heel and stalked out, the high hem of her uniform skirt swishing provocatively around her slender thighs.

Kassandra

Date: 2011-09-26 16:42 EST
Mistress Tul'Nor's Rooms

"Allow your senses to calm ... let go of your concerns in the mundane and embrace the soul that is seeking your own in answer to your summons ..."

Amaya Tul'Nor's voice was a lilting, tender counter-melody to the gentle trickle of water that could be heard from the fountain outside her window. The room was darkened, but not so much that the sunlight from the walled garden beyond was denied entry. Kassandra, the seer sent from Delphi, sat cross-legged in the center of the room, her tanned limbs a pleasing counterpoint to the luxurious softness of polar fur on which she rested.

For five weeks, she had been training to this point under the Nephilim's instruction. Today was the day she would finally summon her familiar to her; the day she would discover what was the balancing force of her soul and will. Part of her was hoping for something small and easy to care for, since she doubted that Dillon and his fox-familiar would appreciate sharing their room with another predator. But then, she seemed to have little to do with him, or indeed, anyone else in the school.

Isolation had been forced upon her at the temple, and now, it wrapped its clinging tendrils around her still. Her perceptions of the activities of others, whether she knew them or not, were hindering her ability to study, to learn anything. Mistress Vadten had already mentioned that she was close to despairing of any progress being made at all until the young Seer got a grip on herself and learned, if not to prevent these concurrent visions, then how to ignore them. For how did you teach someone to See into the future or past when their senses were constantly bombarded with visions of the present through other eyes?

Mistress Tul'Nor had come up with a simple way of blocking Kassandra's little problem during these lessons, however. The gentle teacher simply laid a barrier between the Seer's mind and those of everyone else in the school for the hours they spent together. It was an exhausting exercise, however, and not something that could possibly be maintained indefinitely. But thanks to this intervention, Kassandra was about to cast her first spell, unhindered by the distracting passions that ran like veins of fire throughout the student body.

"When you feel you are ready, Kassandra, call for your familiar," Amaya told her in that comforting, tender tone of hers. "Do not be afraid. No harm can come to you while you are in my care."

This was it. This was the moment she had been looking forward to, dreading, for the past week, ever since the Mistress of Binding had told her she was ready to cast this important spell. Drawing in another slow, deep breath, Kassandra stretched her senses to their very limit, embracing the sensation of floating above her physical form, and seemed to watch as her lips moved, hearing her own voice as though from the bottom of a deep pool, her own tongue shaping the words she had chosen.

"Μέσω του χρόνου και του χώρου, καλώ για να σας
Αν και ο φόβος μου στέκια, ελπίδα είναι ο οδηγός μου
Έλα σε μένα, κάτοχος ξύπνημα ψυχής μου
Πάρτε μέχρι και αιώνια θέση σας στο πλευρό μου."

From somewhere beyond the physical, somewhere far beyond the reaches of her mind and heart, she felt something rise in answer to her summons. A warmth touched her soul, spreading unaccustomed joy through every inch of her still form; the joy of her newly summoned familiar as it came to her, thrilling to the binding of their souls in perpetual companionship. That warmth deepened, wrapping itself around her, entwining itself with her own soul in an embrace that was more than physical, more than spiritual.

Her spirit self, suspended above her physical form, closed her eyes, opening her arms to welcome the bond with pleasure she had not felt before. As two souls came together, she felt the comforting weight of another's mind settle within her own, an awareness of muscle and sinew, of instincts alien to her own, but most of all, she was aware of the pure, unconditional love that this new companion of her soul felt for her, of the surging affection that rose within her own heart for a creature she had yet to lay her eyes upon.

Amaya Tul'Nor smiled as she watched the binding take place. It was always a source of deep satisfaction to guide any new student through such a dangerous spellcasting, for the rewards were so very great. Of course, she now completed the spell in her own way, opening a portal in space and time to allow the physical form of the Seer's familiar to come to her, considering this last step still beyond the student smiling on her rug.

Kassandra drew back into herself, swaying a little as spirit and body took root with one another once again, and very slowly opened her eyes. A golden-brown face looked back at her, intelligent yellow eyes wide and focused above a predator's muzzle. The lioness purred as the portal closed behind her, lowering her head to butt at Kassandra affectionately. Without thinking, the Seer rose onto her knees and wrapped her arms around the strongly muscled neck, laying her head against the warm fur. A long rasping tongue snaked out to wet her cheek, grooming her hair back off her face as she laughed in delight.

"Congratulations, Kassandra," Mistress Tul'Nor spoke from where she sat by her hearth fire. "You have cast your first spell. And she is beautiful, a fitting companion for you. What is her name?"

Proud, both of her accomplishment and the lioness snuffling at her neck and shoulder, the young Seer looked over at the Nephilim mistress with a smile that no one had yet seen from her. Without understanding how she knew to do it, her fingers rubbed against the big cat's jowels, eliciting further purring from the lioness as she thumped down on her side to enjoy the attention.

"Alesti," Kassandra heard herself say, smiling down at her new familiar. "Her name is Alesti."

Amaya Tul'Nor chuckled softly, understanding the choice immediately. She nodded, reaching up to stroke the breast feathers of her own familiar, a wise barn owl named Ouranos who perched on the back of her chair. "I foresee great things from you both, in future years," she promised, though she had little actual talent when it came to Foresight. "The Seer and her protectress will make their own place in whichever world they choose."
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Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2011-09-28 22:08 EST
?Stay away!?

Quillyan?s command bounced in a girlish echo down the hallway as her back thumped solidly against the stone, her palms thrust defensively before this cowardly crouch against the wall. The trio of hellish Vaden peered up at her, their lipless mouths each twisted in a perverse smile.

?I know you f**kers understand me,? the novice cursed. ?Go!?

They twittered and cackled, their slender forms bouncing eagerly upon agile feet. One darted slightly closer in a playful barrage, its twisted fingers straining for her ankle, earning a lash of her foot in return. The creature was quick, though, and escaped with the air of her attack disrupting only the short fur on its back. As a group, they tittered again, having a glorious laugh at her expense.

?Please,? she moaned, her fingertips heating with arcania as she held them defensively aloft. ?Leave me alone.?

One of the Vaden produced a small letter, quite clearly an official missive from the school administration. It made a great show of thrusting the parchment into its mouth, chewing for a handful of moments, and spitting the ball of paper and saliva on the floor at her feet.

And then they scurried off, darting away in a mischievous gallop on hands and feet, alternating paths along the long, vacant hallway.

Quillyan peered gravely at the disgusting ball of damp paper near her feet, and, frowning a frown of utmost indignation, skeptically lifted it by an barely-perceivable edge and began shaking the parchment. Gradually, the creases unfolded, revealing smeared but still-legible lettering.

Reflecting a moment, the novice mournfully reviewed her day: thus far, a collection of her least favorite things. First Grant. Then the Vaden. It could only be worse if --

?Jolie?!? she wailed aloud, her shimmering azure eyes absorbing the Mentoring assignment, the horrific and stately orders barely discernible through the sheen of Vaden-spit.

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-10-02 10:01 EST
Jasminium Wing

There was undoubtedly something quite unnerving about being the only Overseer without a wing to call her own. This fact was never more apparent than those moments when Fleur found herself visiting one of her housemates in their undeniably luxurious quarters. While, Jasminium Wing did not boast the plentiful glories of say Laurus or Nobilis wing, it was nothing to sneeze at either.

Spaciously dark rooms had been left undecorated and the barren quality only added a certain aesthetic flare to it. Perched upon the edge of the couch, Fleur waited patiently for the appearance of Faetha, not in the least surprised when she was made to wait.

The mousy little Nemese Pausanias offered Fleur yet another discomforted smile and whispered, "I'm sure she'll be just a minute more, can I get you anything?"

The girl's awkwardness drew a warmly unconcerned smile to grace plush lips as Fleur sought to appease her nervousness, "I wouldn't mind a tea." Understanding the urge to do something other than sit and wait with her.

Frail bones jerked to a stand as Nemese bobbed her head in an eagerness to please that was rather endearing. The thought of this tiny fragile little thing and the rather monstrously furred healer in the Infirmary being lovers sent a wicked blush to stain her cheeks. Damn the GossipWinds for intruding upon her thoughts anyways.

A door opened and Fleur turned toward it rather grateful for the distraction it offered from her thoughts, only to feel her forced smile freeze ever more rigidly at the prowling lean lines of Chika Kokuri. For a moment they simply stared and then the sibilant motion of the apprentice caster carried her from the room with not a word exchanged.

Fleur felt the tension in her shoulders seconds after she heard the front door close and deliberately willed herself to relax. It took a moment to recognize that she was not alone as Chika's exit had been timed with another arrival.

"Overseer." The modulated bass tones were attractively masculine and Fleur found herself unable to keep her eyes from widening in surprise. A startled glance revealed the scarred visage of, "Benedykt," she breathed.

She didn't mean to stare. Was ashamed to discover that she was unable to pull her gaze from the crisscrossed lines that pulled the skin of his face taut and even bisected his lips. Lips that were known for their pleasure, rumored to be the only instrument of bliss that could bring the Overseer of Satyrkiss to her knees.

Realizing that she'd said nothing, offered only her shocked gaze, she attempted to recover, "H-how are you?"

The ruined tragedy of his mouth twisted into a smirk, the shiny lines of scars pulling at the mobility it demanded. "Really?"

"I, yes, of course, I meant to ask how are your, uh?" She stumbled awkwardly over her words as he moved across the room with an elegant grace that contrasted sharply with his ruined visage. As her gaze sank down over his approaching form she found herself wondering if the scars were only upon his face, or was the rest of his powder white body marred so viciously? His uniform hid such answers from her but clearly he could read the questions in her perusal because he paused before her, spread his arms and slowly turned about. "Wondering what I look like unclothed, Mistress? Would that you had shown an interest before my recent ventures."

She rose to her feet, unbalanced by his height imposingly held before her. The fiery warmth of her cheeks warned that there was no hiding her embarrassment and she sought to pull the conversation into easier territory, "No, no of course not. I was, I meant to, I mean, how are your studies progressing?"

Even she winced at the silliness of such a query as his nearly colorless grey eyes widened at her question. He dropped his arms and bit out, "My studies? Really Overseer? Are you to pretend to care how a fallen of Satyrkiss is doing in their Ascensions?"

The pain in his eyes drew her compassion and her awkwardness was dismissed at the urge to soothe. A step toward him closed the distance he'd already shortened with his aggressive demeanor. A soft hand placed delicately upon his upper arm as she tilted her chin up to allow the honest pools of crystalline blue to convey her sincerity, "Benedykt." His name became many things, woven with caring and concern, the offer of empathy, and a genuineness that he was unused to.

He froze. The raw depths of emotions that tore through his gaze were frighteningly abrupt: a maelstrom of reactions that trembled through the lines of his body needing a release.

"Well, isn't this just touching." Faetha Numidor sneered from the archway, "Should I leave you two alone? How long does it take for the Venus Flytrap to snare yet another lover?"

Fleur Rousseau

Date: 2011-10-03 20:22 EST
Venus Flytrap?as far as nicknames went it was not particularly gruesome, she supposed. Frustration welled despite her mental attempts to dismiss the sting of the words. She was tired of being slandered. Tired of being called names and held accountable to a reputation that she hadn?t deserved. After awhile it seemed easier to just adopt the persona. Why fight it?

If people were going to force their perceptions upon her there was nothing she could do about it. Squaring off with Faetha was no different than any other encounter.


A little over an hour later and she was exiting the Wing and making her way through the corridors of the school. She?d managed to cajole, browbeat, negotiate, threaten, and bribe Faetha into the corner she needed her in and the work behind it had left a dull aching throb in her temple. Faetha would work toward Ascensions and in return Fleur would do her best to get her reassigned to her rooms with Myraddin.

A sigh fluttered out and brought with it no little dejection. One more thing to add to her monumental lists of tasks. The stack of grading that waited in her chambers weighed like a heavy brand upon her soul. And she had her own work to get caught up on, somehow she?d managed to miss two deadlines this month and the extension in one class was preying upon her ability to sleep at night.

All of this was compounded by the lack of a connection between she and Brais. They had barely spoken since the ViperFang masquerade debacle. She?d confessed her night?s activities and he?d coldly accepted them as the barest of facts. It seemed to her, that in his mind she had had no control over her actions and therefore it was as if they?d never occurred. Would that it had been so easy for her to forget?

The blush that fired her cheeks was thankfully her own private exposure as the hall was empty. The memories of that night were scalded upon her soul: Ashriel's gentle lovemaking transposed by Iameth's debauched intercourse.

Rounding the corner she froze at the sight of the ViperFang contingent headed her way. The thought of engaging with any of their venomous conversations was enough to have her stepping back into a Gate spell. A small part of her was ashamed by the cowardice of the action even as she stepped free of the school and into the Marketplace.

Though that small part was easily overpowered by the overwhelming sense of relief.

The TeasNTomes awaited.

Siofra Kelley

Date: 2011-10-04 20:09 EST
It had been several days since the festival. She had spent a lot of time of late on her studies or in her suite of rooms. The dark circles under her eyes evidence that the images from the unforeseen events that had happened during the festival had been keeping the young fae up at night, tossing and turning.

She had been pulled in, along with some of her other classmates, to the Marketplace where a scene was unfolding that had left her awestruck and terrified. Open fire between elements of good and evil, children loaded to the teeth with artillery and armored figures in the air. Most of her other classmates had jumped into the fray, seeming to move and act instinctively to either protect each other or attack the identified evil.

She blanched as she remembered how unprepared she had felt for such an encounter. The strength and power within her was ever present and she felt it, always bubbling just below the surface. The control she had mastered having lived such a quiet and simple life on a farm had kept it there, in check, and unchallenged. Until that night.

She had never used any of her abilities for more than just playful games to get away with things as a child or for her own amusement when each power or gift had revealed itself and always in quiet seclusion to test them out, so as not to alarm her human parents. Again, dalliances of a young girl. Never had she been put in a situation where her gifts would have to be used to stay alive or ensure others did. Once her wits had come back to her, she felt her fear turn into adrenaline which allowed her to move into action. She had done her part, albeit a very small one in comparison to her very impressive companions, but she knew she was capable of so much more than she had displayed.

She sighed as she rose from her casual seat on the bed, her books sprawled across the bedding as she had been attempting to study her extensive notes for Mistress Mistmark's Components class with little success. She walked over to the window in her bedroom and looked out over the grounds. Her nights of late had been plagued with the events of that night, the exploding children, the madman who had randomly set his evil intentions upon her, how she had watched a classmate in protection of her tear his leg off. She dropped her eyes and another shake of her head as she remembered how her fear rooted her to the spot when the call to leave had been issued. She had to be picked up and hauled out by a fellow classmate only to be teleported back to the Glen and lose her stomach in front of them all.

A blush of pink spread across her cheeks at that thought. How embarrassing. After reflecting on those events for the last several days, she had made a decision. She wasn't that silly little girl playing with the unknown and mysterious power within her. She wasn't that silly little girl who had to hide her gifts from her parents for fear of rejection from them. She just wasn't that silly little girl anymore and she needed to stop acting like she was.

She sat a bit straighter at her perch by the window and squared her shoulders as she took a deep breath. Her storm gray eyes shifting to the opened books and scattered papers on her bed. She jolted up from the spot, her lips in a thin line of determination. She was going to study. She was going to work hard. She was going to learn. She was going to show that she belonged and she was going to start acting like the woman she was.

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-10-08 22:09 EST
The Things One Can Learn -- One

(Warning - this post contains graphic content. It is intended for adult audiences only.)

Kassandra was uncertain why she had been sent to see her mentor, the mage Cassidy St.Clair. The only explanation Master Nil'aiha had given her was that Mage St.Clair would be able to aid her in understanding the principles of enchantment as it applied to her cloak and wand, neither of which had even been looked at since she had arrived in Rhy'Din.

To make things worse, she had already had an unexpected look into Cassidy's mind during a rather passionate moment in the Gardens, and had been rendered almost totally speechless by the experience. An innocent from the Delphaic temple was not equipped to deal with the way her innate talents took her consciousness and inserted it into anyone else's. But Master Nil'aiha had insisted, and for all her misgivings, Kassandra was an obedient soul.

With her cloak hugged tightly to her chest, she knocked on the door of the mage in question within Delonix Wing, fighting to ignore the jumbled mess of activities being carried out by others all across the school that were vying for her undivided attention. Perhaps a sojourn in the company of the openly sensual Cassidy would distract her from them long enough to learn something.

A flutter of murmurs followed the lovely seer?s knock: whispery words significantly accompanied by a hushed rustle of movement and a giggle desperate to be repressed, despite its ebullient clarity. After several uncomfortably-long heartbeats, the door abruptly swung open, a petite Mage St.Clair beholding the newly-arrived novice with wondrously-wide eyes, sparkling in effervescent acknowledgement.

?Hello!? the Mage greeted breathlessly, her girlish voice all a-tremble with gracious mischief. The most casual glance over the enchantress would note her dishevelment - for all of her careful grooming, Cassidy's champagne tresses hung in a bed-tousled set of waves, and upon a healthily-tanned visage, her cheeks burned with a rigorous blush. Even her clothing - a preppy collection of pastels - seemed rumpled and hastily-donned. Regardless, she appeared extraordinarily pleased to prolong her welcome: ?How can I help you? Oh! Wait! You're -- ?

Holding up a slender finger, motioning for a moment, the Mage retreated from the frame, leaving the door to swing widely as she sifted through a set of papers on her desk. The room itself was quite grand, furnished in the simple chic of expense. And, not surprisingly, a handsome gentleman occupied a chair near the fireplace, looking suspiciously, much like his companion, tousled.

It took only a moment for Kassandra to realise that she had interrupted something along the same lines of their previous encounter in the gardens, dark eyes casting their gaze to the floor abruptly upon locating the male who had to have been in the room with Cassidy. Her bare arms tightened, hugging her cloak tighter to her breast. In the face of Cassidy's unabashed sensuality, Kassandra felt suddenly that her uniform was too tight, too hot, the skirt uncomfortably short, the shirt oddly constricting.

With a delighted ?Aha!? Cassidy held a letter aloft in triumph, swiftly flipping it open and beaming boldly at the innocent in her doorway. ?You're Kassandra, aren't you? My mentee? We've met before, right??

The seer lifted her eyes bravely, stepping into the doorway but no further. When she spoke, it was with an accent exotic to Rhy'Din yet not indecipherable, the last remaining trace of her heritage in what she had come to realise was referred to as Ancient Greece. "We have met before, Mage St.Clair," she nodded quickly, lowering her eyes once more. "I do not wish to disturb your studies. I will ... I will return another time on Master Nil'aiha's errand."

?Nonsense!? came the mirthful reply, the Mage?s plump little lips parting in the prettiest smile. A casual flick of her fingers sent the letter fluttering back to the chaos of her desk, and she instantly abandoned the realm of work to bound her lithe body back in the novice?s direction. While her grace wasn?t sensual in smooth, seductive sense, the girl moved with a pronounced eroticism; it was the adventurous, loose gait of an adoringly-enthusiastic lover.

In a blink, she was beside Kassandra, wrapping a slender arm around her shoulders and guiding the timid beauty several steps into the room as the door clicked quietly closed behind them. As an enchantress, she was particularly adept at reading the smallest emotional and physical reactions, and she inwardly delighted at the elevation of Kassandra?s pulse and the dark stain of arousal on her cheeks. ?It would be truly unwise to neglect a errand issued by Nil?aiha, isn?t that right, Theo??

The gentleman by the fireplace, who had been observing in amused silence, nodded once, a lecherous appreciativeness characterizing his well-formed features. He was very handsome, and judging by his refined attire and age, not a student of the Institute.

The warm welcome was certainly not what Kassandra had been expecting, though it did nothing to ease her sense of discomfort in the presence of two such bold souls. Cassidy's smile, however, did calm her uncertainty, her sense that she was interrupting something important; calmed her enough to bring the barest hint of a smile to her own full lips as she was guided into the room.

Cassidy?s fingers went boldly to work on the clasp of Kassandra?s cloak, seeking to divest her of this little piece of security, hoping to open her a bit to the sensual atmosphere of her chambers. Meanwhile, the seer was already struggling to keep her consciousness within the boundaries of her own mind. So intent was she upon this task that the sensation of fingers at the clasp of her cloak made her jump, her own fingers tightening reflexively upon the folds of fabric grasped in her fists.

?Please, Kass -? girlish laughter interrupted, ?Oh, isn?t that funny? People call me ?Cass,? too. Anyway, please make yourself at home.?

Cassidy easily swept the cloak from her shoulders, and with wary obedience, Kassandra watched her slip away. Without the garment to hide her, she was revealed to have been hiding something that approached the perfect schoolgirl fantasy. From the delicate alice band holding the fall of her raven-dark hair from her face; to the crisp white of her fitted blouse; the suggestive loop of her thin black tie; the delicate sway of her short pleated skirt at the mid-point of her thighs; down to the knee-high white socks and polished mary janes, Kassandra seemed to combine the clean, dark beauty of her heritage with the suggestive innocence of her position as a novice.

Cassidy retreated a handful of steps to lay the novitiate cloak on the back of the chair paired at the fireplace. While there, she paused to place her hand on the gentleman?s broad shoulder. ?Oh! And this is Theo. He?s my primary tutor right now, seeing how Nil?aiha has been so busy with student ascensions. He?s actually,? it seemed as if her smile broadened slightly, ?a close friend of Master Nil?aiha, and came very highly recommended by him.?

The novice?s mind finally surrendered to the events preceding her arrival at the Mage St.Clair?s chambers. What she saw would?ve certainly surprised a soul far more worldly than she, for it appeared as if Theo had the remarkable ability to multiply himself. Instead of a simple pair of hands, there were half a dozen, groping Cassidy?s glowing flesh, bending her body into various positions as the accordingly-identical instruments orchestrated a lengthy session in pure ecstasy. The little tryst Kassandra had witnessed in Shah Gardens was a simple, tiny spark compared to this inferno.

And the Mage certainly looked none the worse for it - on the contrary, she appeared entirely blissful and at ease now, perhaps the most joyous student the novice had yet encountered.

The gentleman stood then, rising to a regal height and approaching the novice, his smile a calculated seduction more cunning than the Mage?s. Gently claiming Kassandra?s slender fingers, he drew the back of her hand to his lips, bowing slightly in the process. ?A pleasure, my dear," he murmured, his breath vibrating warmly across the sensitive span of her smooth flesh.

The seer swallowed nervously, chewing on her own tongue as Theo's lips brushed her knuckles. She had never come into contact with calculated charm before; between Cassidy and her tutor, she could not hope to win the battle against an instinct borne of inexperience and curiosity. Her thighs pressed tightly together as she stared at Theo with wide eyes, seeing in the back of her mind his face and form in far more detail than he would, perhaps, be entirely happy to know.

Of course the seer knew, in an academic sense, the way that men and women procreated. She knew that she had been the product of a forbidden tryst; knew as well that this was why she had been hidden away from the world, even kept out of the sight of the male priests at the temple.

It was one thing to know these things, however. It was quite another to experience the sheer abandoned joy of experimenting with your body through the eyes of both these intoxicatingly eager magic users. Surprisingly, her curiosity surged as she identified the details of the tryst. She found she was rather interested to know what it would feel like to have those hands on her body, to touch the skin that had so recently been slick with sweat, so hot with lust. Her god, Apollo, was no prude, after all; the tales of his exploits had been bandied about in the dormitories of the temple for as long as she could remember.

?So!? Cassidy exclaimed as Theo politely withdrew, a youthful saunter carrying her to the large, white-linened bed where she cozily collapsed on her stomach, the fluffy down of her pristine comforter puffing around her jaunty body. ?Why did Nil?aiha send you? Other than the fact that you're so extraordinarily lovely, and he knew I'd just adore you?"

The sweet lilt of Cassidy's voice in the present broke through the roughened cries of her ecstasy in the visions filling Kassandra's mind, and she blinked hurriedly, lowering her hand from where it hovered in mid-air as she turned to look over at the languorously sprawled mage.

"I ... that is, Master Nil'aiha has told me that you are the perfect choice for my mentor," she explained hesitantly. "That your grasp of enchantment will more easily guide me in the enchantments of my cloak and wand." She glanced timidly toward the tutor, Theo, before returning her dark gaze to the languid Cassidy. "I have cast only one spell with success since I came here, and that was a summoning. Please, Mage St.Clair ... please help me."

?Here,? Cassidy called, rolling lazily to her side and patting the bed next to her. ?Come sit with me and relax. It?s really comfy.? A bit of laughter interrupted her words, ?In fact, it?s where I do most of my studying.?

And, in truth, there were several important-looking books piled on the bed-tables, or on the floor beside. Perhaps the words didn?t have the carnal insinuations one would immediately assume when conversing with an enchantress.

Or maybe they did.

And as Kassandra weighed the invitation, Cassidy noted the warring emotions of the girl and therefore incorporated a subtle influence into her next words: a soothing spell that attempted to urge the novice toward innocent affection, as if she were a big sister or best friend.

?I can absolutely help you with that,? she said brightly, her eyes wide, her smile infectious, ?The wand and the cloak aren?t so very difficult at all. I?m very good with wands, aren?t I, Theo??

The gentleman, who had several moments since resumed his chair at the fireplace, laughed huskily, his fingers moving appreciatively over the spine of the book he clutched. ?The best,? he confirmed, attempting to shield his amusement with a grave dignity.

Kassandra was more than susceptible to the soothing caress of Cassidy?s subtly-touched voice. The tense set of her shoulders relaxed, the worried lines on her brow melted away, as she took those all important few steps to lower herself onto the bed beside the golden-haired enchantress with a shy little smile. A moment later saw her toeing her shoes from her feet to draw her legs up onto the bed with her, the virginal edge to her movements urging one hand down to make certain her skirt did not rise too far in the motion.

She did not understand the amusement that lingered in the air between mage and tutor, but seemed to dismiss it in favor of offering further discourse. Indeed, she had already spoken more since entering the room than she had done with any other student in the school.

"I fear I have no aptitude for magic," she confessed, the intimacy of the situation coaxing her to reveal this very personal fear to a pair of near strangers. "Mistress Vadten says she will no longer teach me until I can learn how to control my visions, but ..." Her blush deepened, spreading down the dusky line of her throat to disappear beneath the constricting collar of her shirt. "There are so many passions here, so many minds vying for my attention. I cannot concentrate on a spell when there are dozens of people doing ... other things in my mind."

Cassidy laughed, as she always did: sweet and unspoiled, as if each inspiration was the most glorious yet. Hers was a unique merriment, void of sharpness or cruelty, almost childlike in its emotional purity. The harmonious mirth was completely devoid of criticism, infinitely accepting, and warmly affectionate. While one elbow bent, hand lifting to prop her lovely head, the other ventured onto the smooth expanse of Kassandra?s stomach, delicate fingertips drumming playfully above her navel. The novice?s blush - the warmth of her exquisite arousal - burned against her touch through the prim fabric of the fitted shirt.

This simple observation kindled a needy urge in the Mage, a sweet shudder that danced along her flesh, sparking her playful boldness. Three of her fingertips slipped very casually between buttons, almost in the guise of an accident, brushing innocently against Kassandra?s bare flesh, immediately below her breast and along the elegant line of her ribs - an intimate touch, of course, but abnormally soothing, especially when it was accompanied by her unabashed encouragement: ?Oh, nonsense again! If you had no aptitude for magic, the Institute would have never accepted you. I?m sure you?ve got plenty of talent, which will surely emerge once you stifle all of those distractions.?

Not since her earliest childhood had anyone touched Kassandra of their own accord. From the moment she could fend for herself, she had been stripped of all physical contact, as though to touch her would be to evoke a curse of some kind, to resurrect the faithlessness that had brought her into being. So when the enchantress did just that, the seer stiffened, her eyes widening in surprise as her gaze sought that of her mentor, silently querying whether she truly wished to be doing that. Yet in the touch was powerfully soothing, and Kassandra felt herself relax, leaning back onto her hands as she watched Cassidy's eyes.

"I do not believe the Institute was given a choice," she confessed, her voice so soft it was almost an intimate whisper. Her senses were narrowing without her conscious decision, honing in on the sensation of gentle fingers against her flushed skin, the brush of a knuckle along the satin that cupped her tender breast, the eyes of a man watching this little display of tactile affection. "The priests sent me ... I ..."

Cassidy?s lithe body shifted upon the linens, one bronzed leg bending and dragging a dainty foot upward toward her knee, causing the pleats of her schoolgirl skirt to expand and slip precariously upward, exposing just a hint of the lacy panties tucked at the apex of her sleek thighs.

One of the buttons in the middle of Kassandra?s shirt suddenly sprang from it?s slip, and this minor malfunction was met with an adorably surprised acknowledgement (?Oh!?), but no immediate move to amend the situation. Cassidy?s dark eyes shifted widely between the novice?s gaze and her half-open blouse, the characteristic laughter already bubbling on her sugary lips. But before Kassandra could make a fuss, she shifted the topic, her voice fondly conspiring, still infused with a charm to calm: ?So, what exactly are people doing in your mind? What are these passions??

The Mage St.Clair, meanwhile, was shifting eagerly through a variety of lustful daydreams, envisioning the novice completely naked, her thighs splayed to receive the expert attention of her tongue, the taste of her, or the vision of Theo *** her, or them both together, licking and sucking and ***. The fancies were overwhelming, too enticing to ignore. And while it was, perhaps, just a bit unethical, she allowed the tiniest bit of lustful arcania to seep through her fingertips onto Kassandra?s bare skin, attempting to urge her arousal, her willingness.

The seer swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, stifling something that might almost have been a gasp as Cassidy's ingenuous exclamation brought a second smile to her face, a sign that the enchantress' subtle influences were having their desired effect. Though she knew she was flirting along the edge of something unknown to her narrow sphere of existence, Kassandra could not quite bring herself to deny the continuation of those enticing caresses.

"I see ... I feel ... When others are together, touching, sharing intimacy," the seer tried to explain, feeling an unaccustomed shiver race down her spine to earth somewhere deep in her belly in a crackle of unfamiliar fire, "when the emotion, the passion they feel is so intense ... I feel it too. It is as though I am in their minds, in their bodies, feeling all that they feel. It never seems to stop ..."

Her hand rose, her fingertips smoothing over the delicate curve of Cassidy's wrist, dragging her thumbnail along the crease of the mage's palm before rising higher along the tensioned line of buttons. As she drew a slow breath, her fingers seemed to move with a mind of their own, undoing the hang of her tie; popping open first one, then another of those buttons, until her shirt lay open to Cassidy's fingers, displaying the curve of her bosom encased in virginal white satin.

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I have seen you," she intimated, lowering her head until she could gaze into Cassidy's eyes through her thick lashes. "Felt you. So many times ..."

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-10-08 22:10 EST
The Things One Can Learn -- Two

(Warning - this post contains graphic content. It is intended for adult audiences only.)

The enchantress?s leg shifted against the fluffy linens, leveraging her torso upward, meanwhile allowing her fascinating skirt to fall to the top of her thighs, fully exposing her panties to their masculine observer. Leaning slightly over her beautiful novice, golden locks tumbling down like fair silk around Kassandra?s visage, she claimed the other girl?s open lips. Cassidy tasted of the finest wild honey, fresh from the comb; sweet, but with that slightly dangerous thrill of knowing that somewhere close by was a sting that could draw blood.

The kiss contained not an ounce of timidness or propriety, in fact, it was downright depraved, heedless of the fact that it may be the novice?s first. Lips and tongue together consumed her mouth, toying and teasing, teeth grazing: a very deep kiss indeed. It stole the her breath, allowing her little opportunity to protest or resist. Soft fingertips found Kassandra?s cheek, lightly lingering there only for a moment before launching upon a trail down the lines of her compelling figure: along her neck and over her shoulder, across her chest, to her breast (lingering there, seeking the sensitive nipple of the right swell beneath its thin veil of satin, urging it to a stiff little point, which she deliciously tormented with a light roll between dainty fingertips).

White hot lightning flashes lanced over her skin in the wake of Cassidy's trailing fingertips, that barely-there sigh suddenly erupting into a clear moaning cry of delighted surprise as her wicked fingers drew a sensitive bud into full alertness, pressing through satin to throb tenderly, each beat of her heart sending flickering electricity from nipple to belly as Kassandra shifted. Her body undulated beside Cassidy's, legs stretching out to flex her toes with that delicious tension that seemed to be winding ever tighter inside as her thighs pressed tightly together, feeling the first seep of intimate desire begin to wet her own panties, adding the scent of her arousal to the air around them.

Their audience shifted forward in his chair, setting his book aside thoughtlessly. Appreciative eyes were glued on the interplay between the women?s lips, on Kassandra?s breasts and Cassidy?s panties.

Cassidy broke the kiss, lustfully tugging with tender teeth at the novice?s plump bottom lip as she withdrew to murmur quietly, warmly: ?Don?t you want to feel it in your own body, Kassandra? We can make you feel...? The fingers that played upon the other woman?s nipple opened into a smooth palm, cupping and lifting the whole of her generous breast, ?...so many wonderful things.?

The dark ripple of Kassandra?s eyes seemed to have darkened further with the unaccustomed storm of lust that had taken hold, touched with just the faintest trace of thrilling fear lacing through her trust. Her back arched, pressing the fullness of her breast into Cassidy's hand even as her own rose from the bed to delve hesitantly into the sensual beauty's wealth of golden tresses. "I am here to learn," was murmured back, hesitant still but growing in confidence as her fingers curled to the contour of Cassidy's neck. "Yours to command ..." Her voice trailed off into a muffled moan as she boldly pressed her lips to Cassidy's once more, the tip of her tongue taking the initiative to taste and explore under Theo's fervent gaze.

When Kassandra rekindled their kiss, the Mage?s mouth was open ever so slightly, immediately and eagerly employing the tasty trifle of her tongue, deepening it, coaxing her with ecstatic energy, unspoken promises of infinitely-more pleasurable possibilities. But the enchantress broke the kiss quickly, her swollen lips withdrawing to resume that wildly enthusiastic smile. The hand at Kassandra?s breast lowered, leaving her half-exposed, tracing another explosively-sweet trail down her stomach and over her novitiate skirt, pausing at her thigh. In the wake of the enchantress' wicked fingertips, the remaining buttons of her shirt seemed to open themselves, the garment falling to pool at her elbows, showing off the innocent contrast of dusky skin with pure white satin.

"Please ..." Kassandra heard herself whimper as Cassidy's lips left hers.

?Spread your legs, Kassandra,? Cassidy whispered with wicked delight, her voice low and roughened by her dizzying desire, ?Let Theo see you.?

Her touch delved between the other girl?s slender thighs, gently urging them apart, only to abandon that pursuit to nudge her skirt upward, fully displaying the novice?s satiny panties to their gentlemanly observer. And before that deft hand withdrew to leave the girl completely open to Theo?s licentious assessment, Cassidy couldn?t resist the barest brush of her fingertips against the apex of her thighs, sensing the hot, sweet dampness through the satin.

?You?re so wet!? the mage gasped in joy, her voice unabashed and appreciative as she murmured, dampening her lips with the pink talent of her tongue. Then, the same hand that had moments ago played upon Kassandra?s body went to work exposing her own, releasing the buttons of her pale pink blouse and revealing the lacy bra beneath. Fragile shoulders shrugged the shirt off, leaving it to pool, discarded, beside them. She kissed her mentee again, a simple brush of her tongue against the other girl?s lips, foreshadowing this small muscle?s prowess.

Kassandra?s eyes widened as she turned her head to look once more at the Mage, drinking in the inviting image she now displayed. Creamy skin seemed to be beg for a touch, the smooth swell of her breasts eager to be released from the suggestive embrace of lace. As that brief kiss was offered to her, Kassandra felt her hand rise from the bed once more, stroking the very tip of her finger down the sensual line of Cassidy's throat to tease along the edge of that lacy prison.

Theo, by this point, had come to stand at the foot of the bed, his regal form still and patient, appreciating the liquid intimacy between the two women. His arousal wasn?t hidden - it pressed eagerly against expensive slacks, an impressive bulge straining to be unveiled.

The seer's eyes reluctantly shifted to meet Theo?s calm gaze. The flush of stimulation darkened Kassandra?s skin as she blushed now, suddenly all too aware that Cassidy was not the only one who could see her, that she was half-lying here, half-undressed, before the hungry eyes of a man whom she knew only through visions of his trysts with the enchantress beside her.

Cassidy?s dark gaze sought the other?s woman?s eyes, and she whispered: ?Is it okay if Theo touches you, too??

"Yes," she whispered, almost eager for the feel of male hands upon her. As much as she enjoyed the enchantress' touch, her visions thus far had been of male and female, and it was this that had piqued her curiosity in the first place.

Lying back, she let her hand trickle teasing fingertips down over Cassidy's stomach, skipping over the gathered skirt at her hips to brush untried caresses along the invitation of her open thighs. Her raven-dark hair pooled behind her head, a dark angel offering more than redemption in a kiss. Lifting her other hand toward Theo, she bit her lip lightly, releasing it to whisper in a voice so husky it did not seem like her own, "Touch me."

Theo?s masculine lips twisted in a roguish smile, his solid palm catching the fingers that seer stretched in his direction, massaging their slender lengths with the flat face of his thumb, bringing them again to his lips in a twisted mockery of the proper greeting they shared earlier. ?Oh, fear not, sweet girl. I will,? he growled against her hand, his dark eyes lecherously reflecting the seductive scene on the bed before him: two women, one light and one dark, curled against each other, sleek thighs hanging provocatively open, exposing beneath the schoolgirl skirts lust-dampened panties of satin and lace.

There was a freedom in the helplessness Kassandra now felt, caught between the desires of two such desirable beings, buffeted by her own burgeoning sense of the sexual. As Theo's lips pressed to the trembling ripple of her fingers, her thumb rose to touch against his mouth, wanting to feel the difference of his lips, the roughness of shaven skin against her own. Theo?s tongue subtly ran along his lips, moistening them in anticipation, as he released the novice?s palm.

?Cassidy,? he instructed with calm authority, ?Show Kassandra just how talented you are.?

Kassandra did not wait for the order to be given to her mentor, pulling her arms from her shirt to let it slide from the bed in a crumpled heap. At the same time, a thrilled, obedient nod bobbed the blond Mage?s lovely head, and she sat up, shifting her sleek, half-naked form onto hands and knees, moving to crouch over the reclining seer and urging her to lay back upon the pillows with another lingering assault of her lips. The novice submitted willingly, laying back as her hands fell from their former pursuits to smooth over the warm curve of Cassidy's shoulders and down into the hollow dip of her spine. After initiating this devastatingly-delicious distraction, the enchantress?s deft fingers tugged at Kassandra?s satin panties, urging her *** to lift from the bed enough to pull them off of her slender hips, revealing the warm treasures nestled between those smooth, shuddering thighs.

Lost in the fiery caress of lips and tongue, the novice barely noticed how that single garment was slipped away.

The kiss broke, Cassidy?s eyes burning with her own intense arousal, molten chocolate, her breath trembling as she retreated to pull the panties down enticing lengths of legs, finally sitting back on her own heels as she liberated the lingerie, balled the moist, sleek material, and tossed them playfully to Theo, who expertly caught and tucked them into his jacket pocket before divesting himself of the garment, moving to lay it, with Kassandra?s long-forgotten cloak, upon the back of a chair. He began to loosen his tie, eyes locked on the carnal interplay between the women.

Meanwhile, Cassidy, who was perched prettily between Kassandra?s ankles, began creeping back upwards, her hands running eagerly along the insides of bronzed thighs, nudging them outward, spreading them and exposing the drippingly-delicate fold of her ***. Fingers paused at this junction, delving between the plump outer lips in a long caress that engulfed the novice in a tempest of desire, a throbbingly-hot ache that intensified as her mentor?s delicate fingers parted her, revealing her most intimate of untouched places. The jewel hidden within velvet ached to be touched, to be tasted, and though she did not know what to expect, Kassandra did not think she would be left wanting.

She was right.

Cassidy?s form crouched low, her ass held high in the air as her head dipped between sleek thighs, and Kassandra felt the velvety prod of her tongue lapping at the moisture dripping from her unopened orifice, caressing the threshold of that starved portal, licking and tasting her feminine sweetness.

As Theo shrugged off his shirt, his eyes shifted to Kassandra?s lovely countenance, watching her expression carefully as the enchantress nuzzled her ***.

He idly adjusted the painfully-stiff erection, loosening his belt and pants enough to draw it free, allowing it?s disarming length to unfold, his hand pumping it several times as he observed. ?Very good, girls,? he murmured encouragingly.

The tip of Cassidy?s tongue lapped upward, finding that small knot of nerves and massaging it eagerly, her slick saliva mixing with Kassandra?s arousal, and she moaned, her own panties soaked now, her own body throbbing with desperate desire. Answering the cry, Theo?s free hand pulled those lacy little underthings halfway down her thighs, exposing the enchantress?s bare lips -perfectly smooth, void of any hint of fur or curls- beneath the luscious curve of her ass. Her body dripped its desire down her thighs, and as she sucked and toyed with Kassandra?s ***, she desperately wished that her tutor fill her with his fingers, or his ***. But he didn?t.

Instead, he circled around the women, embedding his fingers in Cassidy?s tresses and gently lifting her head from between the novice?s thighs, guiding her plump, cum-glistening lips to the wide head of his alarmingly-large instrument, and the Mage obliged him, hungrily stretching her lips around his girth, moistening that solid length. He drew her head forward, urging her to swallow more of him, slowly, slowly, until Cassidy consumed him to the base, the long rod venturing down her throat and sealing her breath. A moment later, he swiftly withdrew, dripping with her saliva, allowing her to gasp for the air she had been briefly denied.

Kassandra panted softly, her head tilted back to watch as the mage took the veined length of flesh offered to her deep between her lips, fascinated by what she saw. "So big ..." she murmured, drunk with desire, unable to keep from imagining what it would be like to be Cassidy in that moment, and yet also unable to keep herself from reaching toward the enchantress. Her fingertips grazed the dripping well nestled at the apex of her mentor's thighs, curiosity lifting those fingers to her lips to taste the enchantress on her tongue.

Releasing Cassidy, Theo moved to cradle Kassandra?s head, lifting it slightly from the pillows as he leaned down to kiss her, his mouth larger, rougher, different-tasting than the enchantress?s. ?Are you sure you want this?? he asked between kisses. ?Tell me how much you want it.?

Her hand rose to curl at his jaw as he kissed her, mesmerised by the sheer enthusiasm both showed in their touching and tasting. Was she sure? Could she vocalise how very sure she was that this was what she wanted? Did she even know where to begin? From the moment Kassandra had knocked on the door to this den of iniquity, her world had been ruthlessly uprooted and spun about, until she didn't know up from down, left from right ... right from wrong. But this couldn't be wrong, could it? It felt ... there were no words to describe how it felt, only that there was a sense of rightness about this unexpected, wondrous encounter that was shooting her consciousness high into the stars that wheeled above them.

"I ... Sweet Apollo, please do not stop," she begged them both between offering up her lips to the one, her hands to the other. "Please ... I need to know ... I want ... I need you ... both of you, now, please. I will do anything, do not leave me like this ..."

Kassandra?s feverish pleas intensified the pressure of Theo?s kiss, his mouth mauling her tender lips, sweetly abusing them as the languid pace of the seduction began to be overcome with the undeniable urge to conquer. While the seer moaned and writhed beneath the rough masculine attention, the rest of her clothing was being gently removed by expert feminine hands, leaving her lithe body bare and defenseless against their exquisitely lustful barrage. For a moment, the touch of the soft, smaller hands vanished, but little opportunity for questioning was offered, for Theo?s mouth was relentless, his larger fingers dipping between her lewdly-spread thighs to resume the caresses that Cassidy?s mouth had abandoned, dampening his fingertips with a long caress around her achingly-empty, still-virginal slit before returning to gently massage that sensitive little point, coaxing her to higher, deeper ecstasy, coaxing her to madness.

Caught between the rough domination of Theo's kisses and the tender work of Cassidy's hands, Kassandra was barely aware of the cooler air on her flushed skin, of the lack of barriers to protect her innocent form as she allowed instinct to ride her, scratching her nails through Theo's hair as she tried to emulate his kisses. A clear and resounding cry of exquisite delight was torn from her throat as his fingers found the aching nub of her desires, her hips jerking toward his touch in an unspoken plea for more.

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-10-08 22:11 EST
The Things One Can Learn -- Three

(Warning - this post contains graphic content. It is intended for adult audiences only.)

At some point, the bed shook slightly, as if someone else had joined the two women. In the wake of the shudder, and still before Kassandra was allowed the explosive height of pleasure, Theo abruptly broke the kiss, withdrawing both lips and hands to allow Cassidy to pull her up from the pillow and onto her knees. Fleetingly, she noticed that Cassidy was now completely naked as well, her tanned flesh luscious and inviting against the backdrop of the white linens, but immediately, the seer was shifted around, urged to face toward the headboard, where she was dizzily introduced to a second Theo, who lay propped against the pillows, his hands outstretching to grasp her hips, guiding her thighs to straddle him, her sultry, untouched bloom, throbbingly-moist, positioned just above the frighteningly-broad head of his ***. This close, the bulbous head was terrifying to her, filling her mind with the traitorous thought that she was going to fail at this, too. And yet, she did nothing to prevent herself being positioned above that frightening threshold; indeed, her hands moved to grip his wrists, to smooth upward over the firm line of his arms to brace herself on his shoulders.

Cassidy?s body crowded close to her smooth back as she straddled Theo behind the novice, the high swells of her breasts dragging stiff little nipples across her shoulder-blades. Soft fingers reached around, again delving between her legs, helpfully adjusting the throbbing rod at the very threshold of her too-small passage, but neither her mentor nor the tutor urged her further - they allowed her to set the pace for this first heavenly violation. The female fingers, however, shifted slightly upward to that trembling little nub, slick with saliva and arousal, rubbing it gently, hoping to mask the pain of newly-stretched flesh with pleasure.

Another rapturous cry left the novice?s lips as she dropped her head onto the enchantress' shoulder and demand another kiss from those oh-so-tempting lips as her pelvis rocked, stroking slick lips back and forth over the prospective invader. The seer's hips bucked, her strength failing for a split second. With the fall of her body came the first sensation of entrance, of resistance within her own form to what was surely meant to come next.

One hand dropped from Theo's shoulder to take hold of Cassidy's fingers, guiding her to touch the way the seer knew she loved to be touched, and in the moment of shattering bliss, she lost all strength to keep herself from the promised invasion. With a searing yell that seemed to echo around them, she dropped, impaling herself on a *** that seemed at once too big and yet at the same time absolutely perfect. The pain, if she felt it at all through the haze of ecstasy, was fleeting, something to be felt and lost, remembered in the delicious ache of limbs in the hours that would follow.

The other Theo climbed smoothly onto the bed, standing, towering above the two women and offering his pulsing instrument to the enchantress?s lips. Without hesitation, she began licking along that generous length, her talented tongue swirling around the wide head before her mouth stretched to consume it, suckling eagerly, her tongue massaging the underside as his hands curled in her long locks.

The novice?s eyes opened, stormy with near-violent lust, staring in envious fascination as beside the fall of her head, Cassidy took the other Theo's length deep between her rosebud lips, hungrily taking all he had to give her. A squeeze on Kassandra's thighs brought her back to her own Theo, and she looked down at him, laying her hands upon his stomach as she began the instinctive rise and fall. Her mouth fell open at the unadulterated bliss of friction so deep inside her, releasing moan upon gasping moan to decorate the still air around them, raven-dark hair falling about her face in a sensual fall of silken tresses that swayed with every eager buck of her body over his.

The Theo beneath Kassandra squeezed her thighs, a low growl forming in his throat as the beautiful seer began to *** herself on his ***. ?Yessss....? he hissed in encouragement, his black eyes burning with violent lust.

Focused so entirely upon the abandon of her own body, on the inexorable building of deep pleasure from the intimate act she was even now performing, it had not yet occurred to Kassandra that this was all she could feel. There was no war for her attention from the other minds in the school; only this, her own desperate delight, and the eager compliance of her companions.

Cassidy?s ambrosial lips slid up and down on their fleshy rod, the broad head bouncing against the back of her throat as she smoothly acquiesced to the strong fingers entangled in her flaxen tresses. After several moments, swollen lips released the shaft entirely, her pretty face nuzzling along his underside toward the sizable pouch hanging beneath, her dexterous tongue rubbing hungrily against the loose weight, luring one symmetrical side into the warm seclusion of her mouth, then alternating, taking the other. Chocolate eyes never wavered from their fixation upon this Theo?s countenance, watching the pleasure twitch in his finely-cut features.

He drew a hissing breath through clenched teeth and snatched the enchantress?s svelte figure from it?s mimic of Kassandra?s position, arranging her instead on hands and knees very near to the other couple. Eagerly, delirious need burning through her body, Cassidy severely arched her back, offering him a luscious view of her dripping, lust-swollen ***, which was only accentuated as his strong fingers spread her ***, opening her completely to the placement of his fleshy head. She felt it?s wide span rub against her slick center, halting against the small slit, then easing its way gradually past this tight portal, into the plush, pulsing heat of her insides. She mewled her desire, open-mouth panting as she watched Kassandra spear herself, time and again, on a *** identical to the one that was now burrowing deeply into her body. Her slim hips jerked backwards, forcing him to the root, the sudden motion stealing a trembling gasp from her own unoccupied mouth. Then, her lover commenced a steady withdraw, pulling his slick, stout length almost out, watching as her greedy lips clung to his enlarged head, before reversing his course and invading her again.

The novice, feeling Cassidy moved from against her back, turned her head toward the enchantress in time to see that first gyration of passionate joining take hold of the golden face. She rose and fell faster, harder, obeying the inner voice that told her she needed more, wanted more, that the hands roughly guiding her body higher could do nothing if she did not also take a part in her own desire. Yet she could not help leaning over to taste Cassidy's lips again, wanting to know if she could taste Theo's *** upon the other woman's tongue.

When kissed, Cassidy?s lips were an intoxicating combination of tastes: the honeyed, innate sweetness of her mouth, spiked with the faint flavor of Theo?s precum and Kassandra?s own juices, lingering from the Mage?s various pleasurable endeavors. The kiss inadvertently deepened as she was swayed forward by her lover?s vigorous thrust, and, to brace her slender body against the carnal assault, one hand curled around the back of the novice?s neck, under her hair, her lips and tongue continuing their wicked play, hypnotized by the sensual softness of another woman. Shifting her balance primarily to her knees, her upper body lifted, keeping the elegant line of her spine arranged in a wanton arch that offered a deep passage to Theo?s thrusts. Her lover?s strong fingers curled over the delicate bones of her shoulders, using the grip as leverage to *** her even more deeply: long, fast strokes that pushed the breath from her body, shook the firm, fleshy orbs of her breasts, and made her moan her pleasure into the kiss she shared with the seer. After a moment, the rhythm of the novice?s rise and fall on Theo?s brutally-hard member matched the pace of the same tool drilling into her lush body from behind, as they all moved together in this depraved orchestration of lust.

The Theo that Kassandra rode so earnestly had his hands all over her bouncing body, cradling the weight of her breasts, rough fingers tugging upon the dark points of her nipples and squeezing her thighs. He groaned at the virginal tightness snug around him. Surprisingly, the seer felt another hand at the back of her head, drawing her attention upward, to a third Theo who stood beside her, his *** near her face, the angrily-aroused length being pumped by his spare hand. This he offered to her, the tip almost brushing her inviting lips, as he whispered to her: ?I saw you watching Cassidy. Want it try it yourself??

Kassandra released a loud gasp that mingled passion and surprise as her lips broke from those of her mentor, liquid eyes lifting to the third Theo looming over her, as naked as the others, as dominating as his dopplegangers in holding her lips achingly close to the poker-stiff heat he offered to her. She offered no reply to his whispered question, glancing just once to Cassidy as though for permission. The rough fingers of her lover tweaked harder at her nipples, and she cried out again at the thrilling pain of pleasure, her mouth open just wide enough for the third Theo to drag her mouth to his length and push inside. Gagged and uncertain, her hand rose to press against his thigh, her mouth working without thought around the thick invader that consumed her mouth, letting her tongue undulate against the sensitive underside as she gazed up at him, obeying the pull and push of his hand in her hair to let her saliva wet his length as slowly, inexorably, he drew himself deeper into her mouth.

Cassidy shared in the pleasurable offering, her tongue darting to his scrotum, running long, lapping strokes around the loose flesh, alternating between these lingering licks and gently suckling on each side. When Kassandra released the saliva-dripping member, Cassidy was pleased to offer another mouth to take the throbbing rod, passing him back and forth between their eager lips as his brow furrowed in concentrated rapture, his breath coming heavily.

Tension seemed to constrict the smoothly-muscled shoulders and chest of the each of the Theos, their movements losing any sense of leisure, growing more focused and frenzied. The one between Kassandra?s thighs thrusted upward to meet her glorious gyrations, his fingers roughly tugging on her tender nipples. Loud, wet slaps accompanied each of the second?s thrusts into Cassidy?s snug, plush-pink ***, her juices running down her thighs as he rammed himself into her, as deeply as he could; his hands, still gripping her slender shoulders, kept her spine arched backward, her head elevated enough to continue their shared, mouth-watering worship of the third?s ***, who growled quietly and his hands stroked their hair: ?We?re getting close, girls.?

Close ... so close ... Kassandra was adrift in a roiling ocean of wicked sensation, overwhelmed with prickling, urgent heat as she let her instincts once more take over. All the while, she could feel her body rising ever higher, the motion of her form over the second Theo's ever more violent, ever more demanding of the pleasure that had been kept out of reach since the moment they had begun this new wave of luscious depravity. With one hand in Cassidy's hair, the other dragging her nails down the delicious line of the third Theo's inner thigh, she bounced joyously, thrilling to each new spearhead of impalement she was given with every downward stroke.

Something was coming; she could feel every atom of her quivering body searching, seeking something unknown, unfelt, unexpected, though what it could be she could not say. And suddenly, it hit her, a broiling, sensuous rush of shuddering heat, an explosion from deep inside that tore through the very essence of her being to send her consciousness skyhigh. Her lips broke from the third's *** to release a gutteral, primal, trembling scream of incoherent pleasure as her head fell back, every inch of the seer's formerly untouched form clenching with undisclosed sexual tension.

The pleasure that exploded through Kassandra?s shuddering, lust-possessed body seemed to ignite the rest, engulfing them in similar ecstatic releases. Feeling the seer?s tight passage constrict rhythmically around his deeply embedded root, the Theos groaned in unison, each giving one final thrust before holding fast to release plentiful spurts of seed - two into the pulsating warmth of the women?s bodies, one upon their lips, open wide with mingled, orgasmic cries.

Cassidy came, too, the all-consuming pinnacle rapidly expanding from her belly, whimpering through her lips, tensing muscles from her shoulders to her toes, constricting her body in a series of liquid, spasmodic squeezes around the pulsating rod locked deeply within. Her cries mixed with the chorus of desire, her body rocking through the ecstasy they endured in the delicious tempest of release, panting and moaning, sweat-dampened bodies moving in conjunction with each other and the pleasure that thundered, almost palpable, against the walls of the chamber.

Finally, the primary waves seemed to subside into delicious little shudders, the final whispers of pleasure, their entangled bodies trembling in the wake of such intense sensations. Gradually, the Mage released Kassandra, her exhausted body collapsing back to hands and knees as her lover slowly withdrew from her dripping cleft. He slipped away, back off the bed, quietly vanishing into the sultry shadows of the room while Cassidy succumbed to the soft comfort of the sheets, curling her luscious body against the Theo between the seer?s thighs - the only one.

With Theo inside her, on her lips and eager tongue, and Cassidy close by, Kassandra fell forward, unable to keep herself upright for a moment longer as the weariness of their exertions finally caught up with her inexperienced form. In a sensual undulation of spine and limbs, she collapsed onto the remaining Theo's chest in a sticky embrace, shuddering out a low moan as his spent *** slipped from the slick apex of her own desires.

She slid to his side, cradling her face against his chest as her breath gasped and rattled in her chest, savouring the tingling fizz that remained of her first orgasmic experience, the haze that clouded her mind and protected her from the minds of all others in the school. She felt slick, sticky liquid between her thighs, leaking evidence that there had been nothing to stand in the way of Theo's eruption into the very essence of her womanhood, a very faint ache of abused muscles that was nonetheless something to savour as a feeling new and exciting.

Opening her eyes, she smiled her first post-coitus smile, something altogether unlike any other expression formerly seen on her face. This smile was knowing and warm, aware of its sensual nature and eager to show it off. Her shaking hand reached across to caress Cassidy's cheek, trailing her fingers through the cooling *** that decorated the tanned visage, and slowly brought those fingers to her lips, never once taking her gaze from that of her mentor.

"Master Nil'aiha was right," she whispered in a sultry tone. "You are enchanting."

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-09 13:49 EST
The letter in his pale grasp was crumpled, but its words were still legible. The cool blue of his eyes darted across the page, rereading it for the umpteenth time. Something was stuck in his throat. The first time, it had been apprehension. Now, he thought it might be fear. ?I shouldn?t be afraid,? Amadeus told himself aloud as he folded the letter once more and tucked it into his pocket. He watched the scenery whip by and tried to ignore the foul stench of the large man who sat beside him on the train. He had to endure one more hour of this, and though the man?s odor was near poisonous and his belly flooded over the armrests and made Amadeus feel incredibly claustrophobic as he leaned against the window, he knew it was a small price to pay.

?There?s no reason for this,? he muttered, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. The fields were golden and brown, still showing the signs of summer. They?d be grey and blanketed in snow before long. The thought brought him some solace. Winter was around the corner. Winter always made his spirit soar. ?This is my chance.?

He remembered the words of Rirdin. Yer worthless. Yer parents weren?t no better. I shoulda stomped yeh inta the dirt with the rest of ?em. Nasty, unnatural lot that yeh are. Heathens, sinners, heretics. They?re burnin? in some circle of Hell now. Yeh?ll go there ?fore long. He?d heard those words countless times throughout his childhood. When he hit the unstable age of fourteen, though, Rirdin had grown fearful of speaking to him altogether. Instead, breakfast was nothing but a long, punctuated silence with a grunt of disapproval here and there.

The schools were no better. All those backwater teachers, the inbred children of ministers, rapists and the ignorant seemed to think along the same lines as his uncle. But that whole town was gone now, behind him, a thing of the past. He smiled wryly at the thought. One on hand, he had no home. On the other, he had never thought of that place as home to begin with. He laughed quietly, which seemed to disturb his neighbor.

?Keep it down, will yeh?? the fat man asked. ?Bad enough yer talkin? to yerself.?

Amadeus bit his tongue and sat back to level his gaze on the fat man.

?Sorry, I?m a bit nervous.?

?Didn?t ask if yeh was nervous, did I?? the fat man snorted and lifted a handkerchief to wipe some spittle from his whiskers. ?Asked yeh to shut up.?

His brow knitted as he regarded the unpleasant individual to his right.

?Mind scooting over a bit? It?s a little cramped over here.?

?Ain?t no room to scoot,? the man waved a hand with three pudgy fingers and a stump dismissively.

With a resigned sigh, the new novice turned to lean against the window again. He thought of the Institute, of what he might learn there. There was power in his blood; he knew enough of the Litos bloodline to deduce that. They were sorcerers, the lot of them, natural spell casters. All he needed was the proper guidance, and he?d be able to demand more respect from such lowly individuals as the fat man beside him.
There?d be spells to incinerate, to polymorph, to conjure denizens of the abyss and to summon energies from the weave of magic to do his bidding. Another smile formed at the thought, and for the duration of the ride, he entertained himself with varying ideas of magical phenomena.

---

The Institute of Arcane Principle loomed before him. The grand building was unlike any he had seen before, let alone visited. But the acceptance letter was crumpled in his right pocket, its words memorized and burned into his mind. The lump was there again. He couldn?t place its source. Perhaps it was fear, maybe when they saw how poor he was they?d cast him out. It might have been simply nerves, or even excitement. Each step he took as he approached the grand estate?s doors felt heavier than the last, but before he knew it, Amadeus stood before it, and reached out with a pale, trembling hand.

When his fingers touched on the polished surface, all fear swept from his body and he felt the warm power of confidence overwhelm him. Perhaps it was the hallowed ground the estate had been stationed on, maybe it was the mere presence of so much power on the other side of that door, but whatever it was, it granted him strength. The wary look in his eye had grown determined, and he crossed the threshold for the first time.

?Hello??

Siofra Kelley

Date: 2011-10-09 14:20 EST
Southern Glen, yesterday afternoon

Her nose had been in one book after another for several days. Lines and lines of black lettering on parchment, pages and pages of the knowledge of several scholars before her, putting thier applications of the various magic they knew every in and out of, on paper to be followed, learned, absorbed and practiced. That was what she had not been doing. Practicing. There was the occasional need for demonstrations required by the instructors to ensure their teaching wasn?t for naught, but aside from her Illusions professor, Mistress Zhennavieve, she had only been able to get somewhat passing nods regarding her mediocrite from the others.

If it wasn?t one of her course requirements, she wouldn?t bother returning to Smout?ns class. Conjure the spirit of a dead cat instead of one of the formally human spirits in the cemetery to prove his teachings are settling in and it?s never forgotten. Her ears still rang with the sting of his disdainful words. There is still the occasional referrance to the incident anytime his lectures are concerning the delicacy and intracacies of human life and spirit, which was often, to glare at her with statements to the effect of, ?..feline spirits are another matter. Adjust accordingly.? This always got a couple of snickers and at least one soft ?meow? from one of the students in the class.

She needed to get out. She left the confines of her rooms and the piles of massive book and pages of scattered notes behind and decided to get some fresh fall air and do what needed to be done. Practice.

She faded into veiw a few short feet away from the lake in the Southern Glen. A quick look around confirmed that she was alone. A contented sigh escaped her lips. Athar, her familiar, had been perched on her shoulder but as soon as the cool breezes hit her face, he flew off into the trees. She followed his departure with her eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Apparently I'm not the only one who was tired of being cooped up" a small giggle slightly shook her shoulders as she lost sight of him and brought her attention back to the very empty clearing.

Back to business. She clasps her hands gently and rubbed them together a bit as she thought about what to practice first. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her lips began to move and a mumbling of words as she extended her arms and spalyed the fingers on her hands open and out in front of her. Just below them, a gathering of shimmering particles began to slowly swirl and move in a chaotic fashion and within seconds they took shape and flattened into a sheet that delicately floated to the ground, landing softly on the grass, now a blue and white gingham cotton blanket.

She opened her eyes and a smile of satisfaction brightened her face, but she wasn't done. This time, with eyes open, she began to mumble a few more words under whispered breath, focusing on the empty blanket. The swirl of particles began their merry dance in one corner of the blanket and qickly took the shape of a picnic basket. She knelt down on the blanket and leaned over, opening the basket which revealed a couple of bunches of grapes, some cheese wedges and a loaf of bread.

She eyed the grapes suspiciously for a couple of moments before finally allowing that smile of satisfaction to spread on her lips once again as she lowered the lid of the basket.

"Well, I have improved on my conjuring skills." She chuckled to herself.

Her last attempt to conjur a snack of grapes while she had been studying up in her rooms had ended in a mess. She thought her spell had been successful once the particles had formed and solidified into ripe, juicy grapes but as she went to pick one off, each round purple treat began to shudder before exploding one by one all over her face, hair, clothing and various books and papers she had layed out about her desk. The following day, Mistress Mistmark raised an eyebrow after taking Siofra's Components paper from her, having caught a faint whiff of sour grapes emitting from the pages.She rose from the blanket but not before sneaking one more glance into the basket to make sure the grapes were still in tact. They were.

She rose to a standing position. Now, what next. She spied a squirrel scampering nearby, no doubt searching for some food. A half smirk seen as she raised her hand facing out towards it. The animal perched on its legs facing her as it continued its search for sustenance, a slight wave of her hand brought the young creature to attention. She turned her wrist around and crooked her finger, beaconing it to her. Without hesitation,the squirrel scampered over as it was summoned stopping just short of her feet, gazing up at her as if waiting for what to do next. A grin spread her lips as she slowly squatted down to pet it. It allowed her touch without so much as a twitch of fear as is their usual nature. She stood up and looked down at it, wrinkling her nose in thought a bit. Lifting her finger, she swirled it around in small circles and at that, the small animal rose up on its hind legs and began to twirl along with the motion of her finger. She giggles as she watches the creature dance around. She continues to twirl her finger but points the finger down and makes a circle around her head and as she does so the squirrel, still twirling, begins to make a circle around her. Once the squirrel is again in front of her, she sinks down again to pet it before another wave of her hand causes the creature to bolt upright, look at her and quickly scamper away. She rose to her feet again with a sigh. Well, not bad on her Enchantment skills though she was sure the dancing abilities of a squirrel wouldn't impress many. She shrugs at her own thought but remembered the constant words of Mistress Mistmark, ?Mastering the basics is key.?

She walked over to her blanket and slipped off her shoes before making her way to edge of the lake. She slowly waded a few steps in and raised her smoky gray eyes up to the clear blue sky before closing them and taking a deep breath. She cleared her mind. Once everything was a blank slate she began filing through certain memories, those that caused her anger, or frustration..things that also caused her fear. As the images played over in her mind a swirl of clouds began to form and hover just above the lake, turning a dark, sinister gray. She needed to learn to control this particular gift and decided that by carefully selecting the images and thoughts that she knew accompanied this particular effect, should allow her to learn control of it when it decided to pop up on its own.

The darker the images, the darker the clouds became. Bright flashes could be seen behind blackening skies, the lightning licking the clouds as it bounced around. A deep rumble of thunder setting a shuddering composition to the dancing streaks of lightning as they slowly began to streak out from their hiding place behind the clouds. The wind began to pick up around her, lifting the cloud of her white hair to send it chaotically swirling around as she kept her focus and concentration of containing the storm as it strenthened. She slowly opened the lids of her eyes to gaze up at the awe of mother nature unleashed, keeping her thoughts controlled. She slowly began to lift her arms up towards the awesome sight as the top of the water around her ankles rippled as the winds reached a fiercer speed.

She looked around her at what power her emotions could emmit. She had been able to call forth the very force of nature, stengthining it based upon how far into her emotional thought she wished to go. Now to see if she possessed the true control of it. Her mind was a miriad of painful, fearful and angered thoughts but she had allowed them in for her own purpose. As she swept her arms down, she lowered her head and closed her eyes once more. She wiped her mind completely clean, and as the thoughts vanished from her minds eye, the storm that had been so ominous, dissipated quickly. Thunder faded to nothing but a faint hum, the winds dying to no more than the soft breezes of a lazy afternoon as the clouds themselves became wispy swirls of transparent vapor, revealing the clear jewel blue skies of before.

Looking around at the calmed surrounders a slow grin split her lips. She had discovered this gift by accident but had never truly tested its capabilities. It had potential if she could keep her control. There was no telling what level of damage she could do with raw, intensified, and spontaneous emotion. Only time would tell. For now? She chose to take the rest of the afternoon off and walked back over to her blanket to sink down onto it and grab one of the bunches of grapes from the basket. Upon opening the lid she found them still in tact and she grinned again before grabbing one and popping the sweet purple treat in her mouth and enjoying the rest of the beautiful afternoon.

Ivinia Delirian

Date: 2011-10-11 13:01 EST
Chamber Anethum

"Leaving so soon?" She practically purred as the blue eyed, pale haired boy gathered up the remainder of his things. As was his usual wont, he said nothing in response and she nearly rolled her eyes.

"Really Zhairan? If you're going to depart our room forevermore are you certain you don't want to go with the memory of something delectable to carry you on your way?" The enchantress had rolled over on her favorite furred rug to offer him the tantalizing view of her curvaceous form.

For the first time since they'd been originally assigned as roommates the Air Elementalist stopped and openly stared at what she was offering. Pure blue eyes the color of flame washed over her body.

And then he sneered, "Not a chance."

She gasped.

Startled into a seated position as she could not believe the tone he'd directed at her, she sputtered (an unusual response for the normally sensuously composed Ivinia), "How dare you?!"

He'd gone back to saying nothing. His attention elsewhere.

Ivinia rose to her feet in a majestic display of temper, lavender eyes fairly sparkling with indignation, "Don't act like you don't want it, Zhairan. I've caught you watching me numerous times---" She paused as her suspicions were finally confirmed, "You weren't watching me. You were watching my lovers."

As the last of his things were gathered he moved for the doorway and offered a snipped, "Enjoy your new roommate. Though none will ever compare to the one you threw away."

She blinked, unaware that she'd trailed after him. "What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" So surprised by this turn of events that she couldn't keep track of the conversation any longer. Was he implying that she'd thrown him away? Was this spiteful attack because he felt spurned? But hadn't they just established that he wasn't even interested in her in that way?

His vivid blue eyes blazed with a fire of fury that seemed out of proportion with her thoughts. He looked every inch the infuriated spurned lover as he whirled back to hiss at her, "Esteban was the greatest thing that ever happened to you, you worthless ****."

The gust of wind whipped her back a few feet as the door slammed shut with a finality that was made even more apparent by the gilded frost that lined the archway. The temperature in the room having dropped so severely as to rob her of breath momentarily.

When she finally did manage an inhale, she breathed out, "What. in. the'hell?" on an expulsion of air that was visible in the icy cold of her abandoned dorm room.

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-12 19:33 EST
The guide spoke with a hauntingly calm voice that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"This is it," said the guide, indicating the door to the Chamber Ocimum. "Your roommate is Albion Sepherock. I do not believe he is here at the moment, but no doubt your paths will cross soon enough."

"Thank you," Amadeus replied hastily. This guide was a peculiar individual, its features were vague, its voice too close to a whisper for him to determine its gender, and the clothing so voluminous and overshadowing that he could make out none of its features.

Needless to say, the guide gave him chills. It disturbed him almost as much as the Vaden did when he first saw one of them slinking about. The guide had explained what they were when it came to show Amadeus to his new room.

He turned to ask the guide another question, but the entity had vanished and for a long moment, Amadeus wondered if it had been real. The being was so inhuman, it had no smell, he felt no warmth, it did not walk like men do. He pushed the eerie entity out of his mind and turned to the door once more, which opened at his touch and invited him over the threshold.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-12 21:58 EST
With his thumb and his forefinger Albion rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping to alleviate some of the strain birthed of hardcore scrutiny from hours spent examining the leg. He had collected it days before during a failed attempt to rescue Katt from the Marketplace and now made use of it deep within the conjuration chamber of the Institute; the same debunk room that was used mostly for storage, where he kept the tomb he and Mystriana had found on Twilight Isle, and now where he kept the severed limb upon a table, stationed between a pair of strong stone vices.

Over the last few hours he had inundated the leg with a wide variety of detection spells to discern its origin and potential, yet only came up with a handful of answers that he probably could have concluded without the use of magic at all. It was frustrating, immensely so.

Gathering his things he exited the chamber, sealing it with the wards he had personally replaced the door with. Anyone seeking to enter the room could do so easily enough, though as they crossed the threshold they would be instantly transported to a similar chamber nearby, leaving his conjuration room, and more importantly his work, free from interruption and invasion unbeknownst to the invader.

Down the hall he went.

Over the last few weeks life had gotten hectic for the young Transmuter, which gave him sparingly little time to indulge in things beyond academia. That wasn?t a complaint, for Albion enjoyed the scholastic angle of his existence with a fierce jubilation, but the recent excursions outside the Institute, most notably to the Red Dragon and the Teas?n Tomes, had been exhilarating, to say the least.

Helping Bayliss discover the extent of her magic book had been a pleasant endeavor, as he enjoyed the revelation of magic. Upon his initial inspection he knew the book was different and his motivation to uncover its origin was fueled solely by theory, based on the fact that there were few enjoyments that could match the elation of the confirmed concept. Making an educated guess and seeing it through to fruition? Yes, please.
Seeing Vliss and Damien together helped as well. He knew the two?s tumultuous conception had been rough, and to see that they endured the trepidation victoriously was inspiring on so many levels.

He had quickly gained a new found respect for Fleur as Stormsabre?s overseer as well. The role had to be arduous in herculean proportions, yet the courageous Abjurer maintained a steadfast composure that most Wizard?s only dreamed of exuding. It was impressive.

And then there was Quillyan.

He never proclaimed to be adept in the subtle aspects of relationships, but even he should have been able to see the stark contrast between sentiment and instinct. Complete transmutation infused the wizard with the essence of his new form, which left the hybrid version of himself ?half wizard and half fox ? engaged in eternal warfare for dominance. What he hadn?t configured while analyzing the distinction between these varying natures was, perhaps, the most prominent variable to be considered: Emotion.

He had cheated on her, regardless of form. It was a failure on multiple levels, from personal to professional, and he didn?t handle that sort of discrepancy very well.

A wave of his hand sent the door to Chamber Ocimum drifting open and he entered, eyes of sparkling emerald instantly alighting on the change of scenery. No longer was there a competing shelf of books challenging his own, or a collection of figures forged to resembled students within the Institute lining the far desk, or the arctic aroma of Saphira?s residual scent lingering gently upon the room.

No, something was different.

Kish was gone.

He turned so sharply that his thick hood of crimson hair fanned out around him, slashing through the air to settle whisperingly along his arms and chest. Eyes landed upon the unknown wizard who stood within the room.

?Who are you?? Albion asked. ?And where is Kish??

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-13 00:31 EST
His short time in the room had mostly been spent there, right where Albion found him. It was in the middle of the room that he took his place, looking around with those wide, curious blue eyes of his. The pale fingers against his legs twitched and tapped with the want to touch and examine everything in the room. Especially the books; those fascinated him. Beside the door there was a small, dirty brown bundle of cloth that served as Amadeus' sole contribution to the room thus far.

Upon hearing the door open, Amadeus whirled about and alighted his curious gaze on the source of the disturbance. The question echoed through the chamber, ringing in the air. He felt the next few moments were better spent studying Albion with a critical eye.

"I'm Amadeus," he said at last. "Who are who? And who is Kish?"

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-14 07:34 EST
?Kish is my roommate.? He elaborated as the swivel of emerald eyes surveyed the room, again noting the lack of affects that confirmed such an assumption. He did, however, see the cluster of clothing and things beside the door. Logic prevailed. He turned back to face the man. ?Though, it would appear this fixture has been altered.?

He moved to his bed and placed his belongings upon it, a simple gesture sending the half dozen books he had been carrying flying across the room. The soaring path seemed aimless with the launch, but in the end each of them found their home upon the shelf, nestled into their appropriated and categorized spot.

Once everything was tucked neatly away he returned his gaze to the newcomer, an awkward smile forced across the gentle bend of thin lips. ?Albion Sepherock.? He greeted. ?Apprentice.?

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-14 14:51 EST
Whatever the words were that fell from Albion's lips in the moments before his little magical display, they were lost to Amadeus' mind. His eyes followed the gesture of his hand and then books as they flew through the air to find their individual places of rest on the shelf. The novitiate squinted at one of the tomes as it settled into place and stared at it until the introduction came.

Tearing his gaze from the shelf, Amadeus mirrored the uncomfortable smile with one screaming in its similarities. "Amadeus Litos," he replied. "...Novitiate?"

A brief pause followed his words and during this time, his gaze swiveled back to the books that were all neatly tucked away.

"You'll have to teach me how to do that."

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-14 21:49 EST
?Novitiate?? He mimicked Amadeus? inquiry as a slender crimson brow cambered upward. ?Do you not know? I find that rather troublesome as-? He paused then, grimacing with a sudden revelation. ?Assuming you are a student here and not some miscreant friend of Xera?s in search of assorted forms of villainy. If so, know that I?ll have none of it.?

It was then that Viisaus, the slender dragon fae nestled upon his headboard, lifted his triangular head and smirked at the young transmuter, finding it amusing when Albion forced cantankerousness. Truth be told, it just wasn?t in his nature. He was far too pedagogic to be nuanced by artless emotions.

Albion noticed Amadeus? interest in the bookshelf and repelled the instinctive covetousness to keep such a collection personal. Instead he moved from his portion of the room to where the tall shelf resided. ?You can keep your books here?and here. The rows are enchanted and will categorize your assembly by need ? whether it be alphabetical, chronological, or tutorial. Simply touch the shelf and it will assist how you need it to."

He observed the framed plateaus with a fleeting look of eternal reverence before turning and starting for his bed. ?So,? he said over his shoulder. ?What is your discipline??

Leda

Date: 2011-10-15 00:13 EST
A Study In Innocence - Part One

((Be warned, these posts contain material of an explicit nature. If you don't like, don't read.))

It hadn't quite been a week yet since Amadeus stepped off of the train and into the hallowed halls of the Institute of Arcane Principle. In that short time, he'd made sure to explore as much of the grounds, halls and facilities as he was allowed. Given his intense determination to master his talents, he had wasted no time in familiarizing himself with the library and its vast selection of tomes.

He sat in a chair at a large wooden table, surrounded by many of these books, which came in a variety of sizes, pouring over one while scribbling notes on the parchment to his left. His lips pursed into a fine line, his brows knitting together as he squinted at the pages. Rings of fatigue rimmed his eyes. Despite this, his gaze was bright and critical. Each word was absorbed into the sponge of his mind and taken to heart, they scanned the lines of text, one after another, without pause. His hand seemed to move independently, for he paid no mind to the paper or the words that were scribbled down in his obsessive studies.

"You do not need to learn it all in a single day, you know." The voice that interjected itself into his studious silence was quiet, confident in a way only experience can render, offering a cadence that was all silken whisper and husky tones; a voice that immediately brought forth in the mind thoughts of what it might sound like when raised in the throes of pleasure. It emanated from a novice sat in one of the high-backed chairs beside the fireplace. All that was visible of her - and it was definitely a female - were long bronzed legs stretched out toward the flickering flames, ending in bare feet whose toes flexed and relaxed with the simple pleasure of heat, and a single arm, also bare, whose fingers rested upon the upper corner of a large tome which seemed to be resting in her lap.

"Hmm..." came the very distracted response, a little hum of acknowledgement. It wasn't until he turned the page that the realization that he was being spoken to hit. He set the quill down and rubbed at his eyes before peeking upward at the source of the disturbance. His eyes traced the legs and for a long moment, he merely stared. It could be argued that he was simply tired and having difficulty focusing. That would be his excuse, anyways. His gaze followed the legs until all he saw was the arm. "I'm not trying to learn it all in a single day."

"Nor a single week, neither." The voice let loose a low laugh, a rippling exclamation of amusement that reassured as much as suggested. The book was lowered into the unseen lap, and she leaned forward to look at him. The reason for the bare arm was made clear in this motion; her chosen school shirt stopped at the shoulder, crisp white against the darker tan of her skin. Long dark hair spilled over her other shoulder to frame the face she presented him with gentle shadow, throwing into sharp relief the sensuous lines of her lips and jaw. Black eyes - completely black, no hint of a pupil or iris inside the white of her eyes - regarded him as those lips turned upward into a warm, inviting smile. "My name is Leda." Her gaze swept over him with open appreciation. "I would remember if I had met you."

He rubbed at his eyes again and continued to stare at her. In another life, Amadeus might have been a charming, socially skilled individual. Fate had dealt his cards differently, though, and so he was much more accustomed to merely staring and muttering rambling musings rather than engage in a real conversation. To be approached by anyone, let alone someone like her, was both unheard of and incredibly terrifying. Nerves were not something he handled well, and already his fingers were tapping against the table uneasily. "Amadeus," he said promptly. "I'm Amadeus. I'm new." I would remember if I had met you.

Her smile widened for a moment as she placed the name. "Ah, yes," she breathed, a wicked addition to the natural seduction of her tone. "The reason for Kish's displacement." She chuckled softly, moving to rise. "No doubt Albion made it clear early on that you are not Kish." As she unfolded from the chair, she revealed the figure that had netted her several conquests in all ranks throughout the school so far. Her skirt left little to the imagination, the hem swaying suggestively to skim the lower curve of her bottom as she moved toward Amadeus' table, perching one buttock upon a corner to smile down at him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Amadeus." The things that voice could do to a name should have been illegal.

"Oh...well, yes. Yes, he said something about that," he nodded quickly and sat back in his chair when she started to approach, as though being too close to her was dangerous. It was difficult to keep his eyes on her face when she walked, they were far too curious for their own good. He bit his lip, fingers tapping erratically on the table. "Yes. Yes, pleasure to meet you, too, Leda. How long have you been attending the Institute? Do you know a lot about magic?"

The innocence that radiated from him was doubly delicious to the demonic side of her nature, the succubus deep inside almost begging to taste and corrupt him as Leda revelled in his nervous curiosity. "Oh, I have been here a few months, no more," she told him, the trail of her fingertips up and down her exposed thigh openly absent even as the movement drew the eye. "I would not say I know a vast amount of magic, but I have certainly learnt a few things since arriving here." Her grin was a cat that invited the frightened mouse into its boudoir for something less violent than the usual games.

While those pretty lips of hers moved to form words, his eyes were drawn to the tantalizing play of her fingertips against her thigh. They followed the movement like a hawk did prey, though he was fiercely lacking in any predatorial tendencies. When her words clicked, however, his gaze wrenched away to focus on hers. "Oh?" Whatever the insinuations might have been, the word learn was enough to blind him to them. Knowledge was his main hunger, his ambition. Anything that hinted at it was enough to draw him in. He leaned against the table, thin arms supporting his not-so-substantial weight as he peered at her critically. "Such as?"

"Mmm ... so there is the bait that hooks the fish," she chuckled impishly. For all her teasing, though, Leda did actually appreciate anyone who could commit themselves to learning properly. She did the bare minimum, intending to stay at the IAP for as long as she could to avoid returning to her master. Leaning forward, she laid her hands flat upon the desk to hold her in place the moment her nose touched his, the firelight flashing off the polished steel cuffs that encircled her wrists. "Such as ... how to control a certain affliction which has been troubling my companions for a few years."

He tensed for a moment when she leaned, gaze dipping to the view such a movement offered him. He cleared his throat, looked up, and widened his eyes in surprise at finding her so close. A long pause followed her words, during which his mind fought itself to form coherent words and force them past his lips, which seemed to have sealed themselves temporarily shut. "What affliction? How do you control it?"

Oh, what a question to ask. If any of those students who knew her had been in the room, there might have been a round of sniggers for what they all knew had to be coming now. Leda's smile both softened and widened as she watched Amadeus question her. "This affliction."

There was a sensation of tight control being released, and quite suddenly, whatever thoughts he might have been entertaining about what her problem could be would be wiped clean by an overwhelming wash of sensation. Pure carnal greed wrapped itself around him, radiating from every single part of the tempting package perched upon his desk, teasing groping fingers through his consciousness to seek out his libido, his natural sense of his own sexuality, stroking those repressed or hidden places to full burning life and turning their whole attention upon her as she watched him. It was pure coincidence that in the same moment a single button popped itself open on her shirt, showing off the startling contrast of innocent blue lace cupping the swell of her bosom.

Leda

Date: 2011-10-15 00:15 EST
A Study In Innocence - Part Two


It was no doubt an amusing thing to watch his mind struggle against the sensation that sought to erase his inhibitions. His breath caught in his chest and he froze in place for a moment, there was too much curiosity though, and not enough fear. The curse of being a scholar meant sometimes delving into the unknown, and so his willpower lost the battle. He could smell her now, he realized, and that scent intoxicated him with each breath. He could feel the heat radiating from her body and was quite aware of how easily she could be freed of the burden of all that ridiculous clothing, and it was all the self-control he could muster not to lunge forward.

But as his will faded, so too did such control, and he did not think twice about reaching out with untrained, but wanton hands. Fingers brushed over her neck and curled, surprisingly strong for all their apparent frailness. He pulled, and demanded she repay the affront on his mind with lips and skin. Another button popped open at the coaxing of his touch, his hand was no longer trembling as it reached to cup her chest through the lace.

Well, now, that was a very interesting response. Leda's lips parted as he demanded that kiss, her smile deepening the intimacy as her tongue tease past his lips to fully taste him. She cared nothing for his exposing her further in such a public place, arching her back to press the fullness of her breast into his palm as her own fingers deftly undid his tie and shirt, opening the material to trace her touch over his skin even as she slid his books aside, melting herself down to straddle his lap in the same movement. Caught up in the sensations she had deliberately evoked in him, would he even notice how unnaturally hot her skin was against his?

Amadeus groaned. The sound was strangled, caught between delight and apprenhension. A part of him still questioned the situation and demanded he immediately stop. He was just about to give heed to that part of his mind when she slid so smoothly over his lap. He shivered instead and the though of resistance fled away in that same instant. The heat of her body was nothing more than welcome, as unnatural as it may have been, and with her so close to him, he felt no need to maintain that strong hold on the back of her neck.

Her shirt, he decided, had no place in this, and with another flick of his fingers he undid the last of the buttons and sought out to feel her skin with the touch of hunger. The last remnants of his willpower shattered when he reached behind her, once again proving how untrained he was when he fumbled with the lace before it finally fell away to his insistence.

Leda nuzzled her lips softly to his as he removed those barriers of cloth, aware in the wicked heat of her mind that deflowering the newest novice in the library might get her into some trouble. One hand uncurled from him, opening in the direction of the fire even as her lips began to explore the line of his jaw, following the reflexive bob of his Adams apple with a flick of her tongue, a purring growl of enjoyment. Her wand came to those outstretched fingers, her head lifting just enough to murmur a soft incantation against his lips.

Together, they were wrapped in the gentle lick of harmless flame, disappearing from the library with everything that they two had brought with them. Their reappearance lowered Amadeus onto the soft embrace of Leda's own bed in Nathillium Wing. Her wand was tossed aside and she straightened, stripping off the lacy bra he had struggled with and rolling her hips with intimate promise over his.

His chin lifted at the insistence of her exploration, a shuddering breath escaping his lungs. Alarm flickered through his widened eyes as the flames sprang up around them, but when their purpose became clear, his lips twitched upward. Power. That was his craving, his true lust. He could smell the energy that thrummed through the air with the magic that transported them to the bed in Nathillium Wing and it made his blood boil with craving.

The need to question and understand was forgotten, however, when he looked up to see her chest bared to him. The motion was nearly a lunge that brought up sitting, lips and tongue eager to taste hers again. His hands surged upward to feel naked skin beneath their touch, exploring the supple body that she bared to him. His arm fell back down and his fingers followed a line up her thigh, much like hers had done before, and danced up into the scandalously short skirt to come between her legs. He could feel his member swell and push against his pants with the inviting roll of her hips.

Her lips met his with a thrumming gasp of delight, utterly thrilled with his inexperienced enthusiasm. The sweetest joy of these couplings was the gentle corruption of untouched innocence into keening longing for Leda; she fed off those sensations as they roiled through her partner, fuelling her own fire, adding strength to the sensual coil of carnality that she did not hold in during such moments. His hand was caught between their bodies as she pressed down upon him, dampening his fingers with the evidence of her desire as she pushed him down onto his back, greedy fingers divesting him of his shirt to skim down and pull those constricting pants of his wide open.

His fingers twitched as they became trapped, feeling the slick wetness she pressed upon them before they dared to press in return. Like everything, it was inexperienced, unaccustomed to such actions, but too curious and too eager to care. He fell back with a quiet grunt and eyed her with burning desire in in his gaze. His arms had to rise to be free of his shirt, but the absence of his touch was short lived, and he watched eagerly when she pulled his pants open.

"Ah, ah, ah ..." Leda's grin was all manner of wicked sweetness and burning promise. Her hands reached to catch his wrists, pressing them down against the coverlet beneath him. "Let me take the edge off for you." Her lips trailed down his chest, sharing kisses and tender bites with his skin as expert hands slowly stripped from him pants and underwear, shoes and socks, leaving him utterly bare under her ministrations. Yet before natural modesty or embarrassment could make itself known, she had definitively taken him in hand and mouth, black eyes watching his face for every last drop of his reaction.

His lips parted to protest, but no words would come out. She could have commanded him to do anything and he would have obeyed without hesitation. His arms bent at the elbow to prop himself up as he watched her with those ever wide and curious gaze, and his lips parted again when he felt the heat of her mouth surround him. This time, though, a sound did come out, and it was a surprised, unrestrained moan of delight at this very unfamiliar but wholly welcomed sensation.

Oh, and how wickedly knowing that mouth was. It teased and tormented, enveloping him in heat only to leave him to cool in the air before returning, drawing the undulating length of her tongue up and down, back and forth, finally pressing him so deep between her lips that he was sheathed in the tight, flexing cavity of her throat as she moaned, letting the vibration of her voice sweep through him.

Those fingers that were so prone to twitching curled into tight fists for a moment as his head fell back and he shuddered under her attention. He pushed a hand through her hair and gripped tight to make her linger there for a moment longer as the vibration of her moan elicited a delicious sound of pleasure from his lips.

The grip of his hand in her wealth of raven-dark hair was delightful to the half-breed demon, thrilling to the threat of pain as she continued with her exquisite torment, suckling, moaning, tasting him without mercy.

There was a brief pause in his writhings and moans before his body was adrift in a sea of ecstasy. A startingly intense, burning pleasure swept through him and wracked his spine with violent shudders. His grip tightened and his hips thrust up to plunge himself deep into her wicked mouth and it tore another sound of delight from his lips and came spilling outward into the wicked heat that surrounded him.

She drank it all down, the physical and the desperate thrill of the spiritual peak she had sent him to, absorbing every last scrap he had to give. Only experience could have told her when the point of no-return had come, the point at which she drew back with a self-satisfied grin, delicately wiping the full pout of her lips with a fingertip as what she had left him coiled in on itself to replenish and re-ignite the banked fires deep inside. In the moments between her releasing him from her teasing lips and the stretch of her body along the length of his, she discarded her skirt and panties, stroking her fingertips up and down his ribcage while she watched his return to some semblence of reality.

Leda

Date: 2011-10-15 00:17 EST
A Study In Innocence - Part Three


He gasped for breath, drinking in each lungful with another shudder of delight until finally, the throbbing had ceased and his senses flooded back into place. He was aware of her on top of him, his fingers curling at her hip when he looked up with a startled gaze. Pleasant surprise was evident in the look he gave her, and already he could feel the burn of his need begin to flicker to life once more.

"And how do you like your lesson so far?" she murmured through her grin, leaning down to nip at his panting lips as her fingers delved through the tousled mess of his hair. "Is this worth knowing, Amadeus?"

A shaken, uncertain grin twitched at his lips as he looked up at her. "I...well..." despite the hunger she brought raging to the surface, he still lacked the experience to form the words he needed in such situations. "It is worth knowing," he settled for at last.

"Good," she purred in satisfaction, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss that scorched with fervent lust. Fingers that were all too knowing stroked down along the rippled line of his ribs, around the curve of his hip as she offered him another moan, playing on the natural salaciousness of her voice and form to whip him into a second frenzy of need.

That was all that it took. That kiss, that touch, and that moan kindled the need that burned within him, and he met her kiss with the fervent desire he displayed just moments ago. His own inexpert fingers slid over her thighs and her bottom, squeezing wherever they touched as his body rose against hers.

She broke the kiss with a laugh that was tenderly intimate, slowly pushing herself upright over him as she rubbed herself against the throb of his desire. Fingers lowered, and with a smooth motion of undulating spine and rolling hips, he impaled her, filling the room with the loud cadence of her unabashed cry of utter delight. No doubt Thea in the living room of the Wing was squirming once more at this open evidence of her living companion's incredibly sexual lifestyle.

The laugh may have bruised what little pride he had, but the perceived affront was quickly forgotten when she fell upon him in that smooth motion of her spine and hips. His moan filled the air and mingled with her own cry at the delicious sensation.

The pace she set was almost without mercy, offering him no chance to grow used to the freshness of feeling himself so deeply held within a willing female body as her hips began a hard buck up and down. Her hands fell to take his, guiding them over the sweat-slicked curves of her body, teaching him how to touch, where to touch, even as her voice rose to encourage his own movement beneath her.

Her teachings were taken to heart, his hands moving easily beneath her guidance, all too willing to touch more of her body. The merciless pace she set brought no sound of complaint from him, and after a moment, he had learned how to move with her and his hips rose and fell at the urging of her voice.

But she wasn't purely in this for her own pleasure, for it was his that fed her strength and desires. Falling to catch his lips with hers, she curled her limbs around him, moving to roll upon her back with another buck to him. Her teeth dragged tenderly over the soft pillow of his lip.

He rolled with her smoothly and paused when he leaned over her. His eyes drank in the wondrous sight of this incredibly sensual body displayed before him, commanding him to take his pleasure of her. Something flickered in that gaze and a slow, knowing smirk stretched along his lips as her teeth teased them. His hands smoothed over her body in the way she had taught him and curled at her wrists to hold them back. He then thrust into her, the buck bringing his hips crashing against hers. Then he met her again, and then a third time. Finally, he set a pace, but it was wholly devoid of the inexpert uncertainty he had displayed before. Each thrust brought him slamming to her, the buck of his hips nearly brutal in demand.

And there it was, the snap from innocence to instinct she had been waiting for, Leda writhed beneath his sensual onslaught with ever rising moans and cries, meeting each thrust with her own eager crash of body to body, putting on a show for him that was nothing short of brazen. All too soon, she felt the delicious peak of pleasure throwing her toward her inner stratosphere, arching up with a form that shuddered and clenched in demanding satisfaction.

Oh, if ever there was a way to make him want more of her, the overtly sexual show she put on for him was it. The blaze of desire burned hotly, it made the crash of their bodies all the sweeter. Like her, he was acutely aware of the rapidly approaching end, of the pleasure that was soon to burst forth and spread between them. And then the fine tether holding it back snapped and his hips all but slammed to hers in the intense heat of that carnal delight.

Again,she welcomed the force of his climax, draping her languorous limbs close around him as she absorbed the flash of pleasure that ripped through him into herself. No doubt her mother would be proud - a human form seemed to have so much more success when it came to conquests like this. Leda drew from Amadeus everything he could give safely, lips teasing over his skin to calm and torment as she rolled him back onto his side with a final purr of deep contentment.

He was more malleable then than ever, and easily drawn to his side at her insistence. His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs swelled with greedy gasps for air, but beneath the frantic workings of his body to steady was a simple, if deep and overwhelming, satisfaction that calmed as much as thrilled. He lay in silence for a moment, drinking in the feelings that still flittered from where they had been connected, each beat of his heart drawing causing him to throb again.

Tucking her arm under her head, Leda watched him with those deep black eyes, her palm gently stroking at his side as he drew that sense of calm back around himself once more. Slowly, with painstaking precision, she too took control once again, coiling that open invitation in her aura back into herself until all he felt was his own body's needs and satisfaction, untouched by her demonic abilities. "You are a fast learner."

For a long, silent moment he watched her. He felt the absence of that overwhelming aura and the natural desire that had arose as a result of their heated coupling. When she spoke his lips twitched again and he finally smiled. "When the chains of oppression are broken," he said in a voice that was cool and lilting, it carried much weight and hung in the air. Most of all, though, the voice did not belong to him, but to another, to something very much inhuman. "Then we may spread our wings and learn to soar."

Her eyes narrowed just a little at the heavy tone of his voice, letting the weight of it hang over her as she took in the import of his words, her hand stilling to lie flat against his side. The inhumanity of him in those moments was not lost on her, but she was not human herself. Where others might have felt fear, she felt only curiosity. "Perhaps that is true," she murmured softly in her silken whisper of a voice. "But only one who has broken those chains can say with any certainty."

"You are bound," he said, speaking of things he should not know. "But you have the sight to see the cracks. You must master it to be free," his smile tugged wider and then vanished entirely, wiped away to make a blank canvas of his face. All of a sudden, Amadeus was there again, a young man wholly unused to such situations, perplexed at what to say or do, and simply watching with the curious look that was ever present in his gaze. Against her side, one of his fingers began to twitch.

He was right, of course. But at the same time, he wasn't the young man she had taken to her bed in those moments, the strangeness of it touching her deeply. Yet as the blank mask settled over his face, she shook away her concern, leaning closer to brush her lips in reassuring caress against his mouth. "Shhh," she whispered. "I'll not hold you if you want to run."

He calmed slightly at her whispered reassurance, his fingers ceasing their nervous twitchings. Whatever it was that had come over him when he spoke before, he seemed to have taken absolutely no notice of it. "I think I will like this place."

Leda

Date: 2011-10-15 00:19 EST
A Study In Innocence - Part Four


Leda chuckled softly, a rich sound that soothed rather than hurt the pride. "I believe you will," she agreed warmly. "So much to do, so many people to learn ... you seem one who will thrive here. When you cease to fear of those who want to teach you what you do not know."

"I don't fear," he protested, perhaps too quickly. "I am just...reasonably wary." He eyed her curiously for the umpteenth time. "I have good reason to be, and I imagine I am not the only one."

Her smile was gentle, but it called him out on the lie. "You cannot lie to me when I have seen and tasted your fear, Amadeus," she told him warmly. "Yet now, you have no need to feel that fear. Do you?"

"Well..." he considered her words thoughtfully, giving them over the entirety of his no doubt erratic thought processes before granting her a one-shouldered shrug in addition to his own words. "Not you, at least. There are others, though. Many whom I do not know and cannot trust. People are greedy," he explained, as though she didn't already know this. "And many abuse the weak and the trusting to further themselves."

"I am the most dangerous female you could have coupled with in the student body," she told him firmly, holding his gaze with stark honesty. "I am succubus; a moment of control lost, and you would be dead. Do not make the mistake of thinking me benign simply because I have not harmed you here and now - do not trust so easily. There is not one person here who will not rip you to pieces if you stand in their way."

"Am I to fear you or not?" he asked, brows knitting together as they did when he was studying a complicated bit of text in the many books back in the library. "The others I do not trust, I fear their ambition, but I will tell you a secret, if you will hear it."

She seemed to consider his question for a long moment, knowing the deep truth that she was not to be trusted by any so long as she was in service to Carnivean. "You need not fear me, but only what I could do," she said finally, curiosity flickering in her eyes at the prospect of a secret hidden and shared.

He recognized the curiosity, for if anyone were likely to be the patron saint of such a thing, it would be the ever learning Amadeus. He leaned, his voice dropping to a whisper. The manner with which he spoke was almost childish. "They will learn to fear my ambition more than I fear theirs," though he sounded light-hearted enough when he spoke those words, the hungry gleam in his eye said otherwise. The very thought of obtaining power excited him, and the blood so infused with magic that flowed through his veins made the air just around his body thrum energetically. She was only just close enough to feel the effect. Only just.

Ah, ambition. The only thing anywhere close to as intoxicating as sensuality to a half-demon, Amadeus did not know what he had done with that shared secret. He had assured Leda as an ally for his future, if only so she could feed from him when she needed to. The thrum of power around him thrilled her as she grinned, pressing closer to revel in the energy he radiated as she kissed him, hungry to taste it for herself. Confident now that no matter who seduced him in future - even Ivinia, the two-faced whore of StormSabre who had set herself against Leda in those first important weeks with biting words hidden within a smooth tone - Amadeus would belong to her.

His lips split into a grin when she kissed him, and he reveled for a moment in the taste of her lips before his teeth took purchase and teased. Then he withdrew and he spoke again. "What's this?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice as he eyed her. "I have learned something else about you, Leda."

She growled happily at the scrape of his teeth, drawing back to chuckle at the sight of the uncertain virgin of only an hour or so before now teasing her wearing only a grin. "And what is that?" she asked him with a smile of her own.

"How to draw you in," he did not elaborate on these words, but seemed to give them a great deal of thought. "It is good that this happened, I think. It will make things easier."

"My service is given to one already, I will not make myself the thrall of another," she warned him, her brow arched warningly. "Your path here will be easier than mine, I am certain. But -" She moved abruptly, pushing herself to sit up on the edge of the bed. "I have kept you from your studies for too long." How was it Jacen described her? Impersonally intimate?

He chuckled and watched her from where he lay on the bed, then twisted around to stand. "Chains and shackles, I do not approve of, physical or otherwise. If ever you find the courage to fight against the power that binds you, you will find an ally in me," he rubbed at his wrists, which bore the remnants of scars, as did his pale back, with many angry red lines criss-crossing over the skin that was stretched tightly across his bones. "Power abused is power begging to be stolen." He began to dress, humming a faint and cheerful tune to himself.

"I have the courage, but not yet the means," Leda smirked to herself. "Odd that I should owe my first clues to a Nephilim who cannot mind her own business, but that is the irony of life." Rising to stand, she made no move to dress, enticingly comfortable in her own skin. Indeed, she only wore clothing to comply with convention - given the choice, she would be bare all the time.

When he was finally dressed, Amadeus turned and smiled brightly over at Leda. "It was very informative, this lesson. I am very grateful for it, and should you ever be willing to impart more knowledge, I will be readily available," he said as he straightened his tie and stretched out his long neck.

"I am always available for such ... sessions," Leda purred, stalking toward him with just a taste of what she kept so ruthlessly under control to tease his senses. "Ask anyone. They have different names for me, but it all comes down to the same thing - I hold no one at arm's length."

His eyes closed, breathing in deeply as she assaulted his senses with her teasing. "I am happy to hear it."

Her head tilted, offering him an unseen nod of acknowledgement as she stepped away toward the door of her room, pulling it open in time to catch the Overseer of GorgonHorn, Thea Pausanias, bent at the keyhole. The be-wigged conservative let out a shriek of irate alarm at being caught, looking up at the brazen glory of Leda's naked form as the half-breed smirked down at her. "See anything you'd like to try sometime, Thea?" she asked almost maliciously, turning to offer Amadeus her hand as she spoke to him. "Ignore this one, Amadeus. The door to the hallway is just across there."

Bemused, Amadeus tilted his head thoughtfully as he regarded Thea, then nodded over at Leda. "I will see you sometime soon, I am sure," he said, slipping out through the door and following her directions to the hallway.

"Oh, I am quite sure you will," Leda's voice floated after him, followed by a mocking laugh quite plainly aimed at the quivering wreck of temper and shock that was one of her roommates. "Oh, Thea, if you desire me so much, why do you not simply give into your desires?" As the door fell closed behind Amadeus, Thea Pausanias was just visible, all but running for the safety of her own rooms as the half-breed reached for her, laughing aloud. Leda's reputation, unsavoury though some people made it sound, was so much fun for her to play with when GorgonHorn's Overseer was around.

((Doesn't Amadeus fit in well? ::snicker:: Thanks for the scene, hun!))

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-15 00:29 EST
?What is your discipline??

Above all else, this had been the question he had been presented with most since his arrival to the Institute of Arcane Principle. He asked himself this very question multiple times, but had yet to find the answer. When asked once again by Albion, he sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"I don't know," he admitted at last. "I thought perhaps Evocation, I do enjoy the idea of that. But I haven't studied the schools in enough detail to make a commitment yet, as I am equally interested by Conjuration and Necromancy. I hope to have made a decision by the end of the year."

"What is yours?"

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-10-15 04:26 EST
Heliconia Wing

A package, left in the care of one Lucian Koth, was delivered to the newest resident of Heliconia Wing by the hands of that apprentice, who was still falling over himself to do everything he was asked to by a certain mage. Never mind that Callisto wasn't even on Rhy'Din at present; she had left strict instructions with Lucian to deliver that package and its attached note to one Siofra Kelley, should it become apparent that the novice was struggling in Smout'n's classes. As Callisto had put it ... "She may fail in everything else, but no mentee of mine is going to make a fool of herself in my chosen subjects!"

It was a bulky wooden box, containing one phial and one slightly smaller box. The phial was sealed with spelled wax, impossible to open without the requisite spell-key, which only Callisto knew. The smaller box contained the corpse of a spider monkey, its flesh rotten, fur scratched away, bones poking through what remained of its musculature. Suffice it to say, the smell was not a pleasant one.

The attached note, however, explained its presence.

"Novice Kelley,

Find enclosed one corpse, and one soul phial. Your challenge is this - learn to transfer the soul from the phial to the corpse in resurrection, without breaking the glass or tampering with the seal in any way. Remember that Necromancy is not purely dominion over the undead, but the manipulation of all life energies. It may seem sacriligious and cold to practice upon the dead, but no living person will offer up their tenuous grip on life for the inexperienced to work upon.

Lucian Koth, the apprentice who delivered this box, will assist you in the achievement of this goal until my return. Should he, at any point, refuse to help you, or seek to hinder your development, abandon him and inform my Overseer, Veronique. She will seek an alternative assistant for you in my absence.

Master Smout'n is a difficult one to work with, and the challenges he sets the novices are deliberately obtuse. He will seek to exploit any weakness you show him. However, if you succeed with the task I have set you, one demonstration of it to the master will earn you a little of his respect in future.

Upon my return, I will test you myself in other areas in which you may consider yourself to be struggling. Until then, be vigilant, and learn.

Callisto Fairbourne, Mage."

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-16 10:01 EST



?Transmutation.? He said proudly, as though simply uttering the word was gratifying. The sharp edges of slender shoulders were revealed as he slipped his jacket from his arms and hung it upon a hook near his bed, leaving the stark length of his buttondown shirt as an alabaster canvas for thick crimson hair to splash against.

Turning to face his new roommate, Albion lowered onto the bed with a continued survey of him once those scarlet tresses were swept back from his gaze. This examination lingered and edified as Amadeus spoke of the schools he considered, silently applying each one with a consideration of the comparable tolls and benefits they would render.

?Seems you are the aggressive type.? He blurted out. ?Evocation and conjuration are often reserved for those of a more bellicose nature, though the suggestion of necromancy dulls the edges of this theory as that particular circle is normally more engrossed in remorse and regret.? Emerald eyes shifted in quiet contemplation, oblivious as to whether or not such an observation could be considered insulting. Obviously, that wasn?t his intent.

?How about your wand?? He asked with a glance toward the closed closet door, indicative of a craving stare that sought a specific paragon. ?I?ve found that sometimes crafting a wizard?s first wand can answer questions that might otherwise have gone unresolved.?

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-16 13:53 EST
"I started studying the wand last night before I went to sleep," he shrugged and took a seat opposite Albion, on what he assumed to be his own bed. "I haven't made much headway yet, though. It is a lot to take in at once, all this magic. I always knew of his existence, but was never given the opportunity to devote any real time to its study, so now that I can, I find it difficult to choose a place to start from."

"Though now that you've mentioned it, the wand does seem like a logical place to begin. I will devote more of my attention to that in the coming days, perhaps it will grant some insight into what I would be best suited for."

A hand ran through the short, messy mass of black hair on his head as he considered his new roommate thoughtfully. "I had hoped that I'd be given a mentor at this point, but I imagine there is much for the administration to keep up with and the haven't had the chance to find a suitable arrangement yet. I was leaning toward this to help me find a school of discipline, but at the same time I imagine it would be easier to find a match if I had already decided one."

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-10-16 18:56 EST
In that way that will come to seem normal at a school of mages, it was at that precise moment that a knock came upon the door of Chamber Ocimum.

It was a sharp rap. There was an authority to it that demanded compliance.

As far as assistance went she was perhaps the farthest thing from normal idea of helpful and as she stood outside their door she was unaware, or simply uncaring, that a fine sheen of blood still coated her features. Crimson rivulets having dried upon her face in such a way as to reveal the spray pattern of something directly in front of her.

Something that had clearly lost a lot of rich, dark arterial blood.

Dressed in the uniform of an apprentice she was a wicked interpretation of school girl chic. The pleated skirt and button down blouse also revealing the demise of something recently. She appeared to be straight out of a Halloween store display and while that might've alleviated some concern that assumption was destroyed by the cold predatory light in her ebon eyes.

She waited, menacing and cold, for the door to open.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-18 00:20 EST
Suddenly Albion was up, moving across the room toward that closet he had previously regarded with his emerald stare. A perfunctory gesture sent the door flying open, revealing the insanely organized chamber residing beyond. Items were stacked in the most unassailable of ways, making all of them easily obtainable with only the extension of his arm. A camber delved him within and a moment was needed to acquire what he briefly searched for, but as soon as he found it he turned back with a thin, wide, box cradled inside his slender, pale hands.

?I have a few that I crafted my novitiate year.? He explained as he started back toward Amadeus. ?They aren?t imbued with even a trace of arcana so you?d have to do all the work, but they have been constructed and are ready to except whatever enchantment you find suitable. I would consider going with-? The rap upon the door stymied his suggestion and stole his focus as a swivel of his head, sweeping that thick scarlet hair about in a fan of tresses, brought his gaze to the sealed entry.

He hesitated, the confusion that quickly infiltrated his complex mind palpable with the arching of a thin brow. ?Are you expecting company?? Before Amadeus had a chance to answer the Transmuter voiced the archaic word, initiating the wards of the room; one of which made the door completely intangible from inside while maintaining its stout and stable appearance from the hall.

?Chika?? He asked through the swarm of confusion infiltrating his mind, most notably from the spattering of blood that marred her otherwise flawless Asiatic flesh. Suddenly curious as to why she would be paying the room a visit, he spoke the secondary keyword, causing the door to melt away from the top down, dripping in thick lines of gelatinous goo until it was completely removed and there was nothing but empty space between those within the room and the Cambion waiting outside.

Mystriana DeSabre

Date: 2011-10-18 13:56 EST
Necromantic Crypt

A necessity in the school of necromancy, this particular crypt was the largest and most grandiose of the ones Smout'n used to teach the basics within. The pitch black mausoleum stood silent and empty of life despite the movement that occurred within its once sacred space. The large oak doors stood ajar. Through their parting the arched ceiling and elaborately designed alcoves where windows had once held ornately stained glass was clearly visible. There, floating amongst the tombs, Margot appeared a ghostly figure, forlorn and miserable.

"Really Margot, the mausoleum?" Jolie hissed as she detached herself from the shadows and pranced up the steps.

Margot made no sudden moves, no apparent care that she was no longer alone evident in the listless way in which she slowly turned to face the other vampiress, "What do you want Jolie?"

"What do I want?" She rolled her eyes and tossed her hair in a way that was surprisingly lively and youthful, "you called me here, remember?"

A flicker of confusion was revealed in the formation of a small frown. And then slowly Margot turned her bruised gaze about their surroundings.

Jolie paused in her sneering to acknowledge that her reaction was unexpected. Realization seething to the forefront, "You didn't ask for this meeting." Disappointment made her vicious and her face morphed into something demonic in appearance, fangs prominently displayed. There would be no invitation to ViperFang tonight clearly.



From the doorway Mystri revealed herself, pale skin glittering strangely in the luminescence offered by phosphorescent lamps. A closer look illustrated that she was coated in scales, her body temperature so low as to be nearly imperceptibly alive by most standards. Mint blue eyes, slitted by a reptilian diamond, glowed with an inhuman light as Mystri slowly drawled, "No. But you've both been asking for something, Leaches."

"Mystri." Jolie sneered. "You know better. If you hurt anymore students you're going to get kicked out."

Mystri didn't stop prowling forward. There was something overly confident in that walk. A sense of knowledge that hinted that she was not in the least frightened of arriving between two vampires that she'd had altercations with on separate occasions.

Once within touching distance she stopped and turned her enigmatic glowing gaze upon Jolie and finally, she responded, "A fact I'm aware of Jolie but you seem to be confused about what that truly means."

Margot had said and done nothing since Mystri's arrival but even she looked surprised at the strange statement.

Nimble fingers toyed with the chain around her neck as she explained, "See, all I've really got going for me is this school and the friends I'm making in it...and I've seen the way you've been glaring at me and mine, Jolie."

The vampiress hissed with a haughty shift of her head, "I've been nothing but behaved since my return, you can't--"

"Prove that you're up to something. I know, Jolie," cutting her off. "You're right. I can't. But we both know that you are--up to something that is--And I want you to understand something...." Mystri slowly lifted the amulet from its safe perch between her breasts.

As the locket peeked out from the rim of her shirt it burst to light, the searing energy sizzling against the exposed flesh and eyes of her companions.

Margot shrieked and spun about, dropping into a crouch. Jolie screamed and jumped back attempting to shift into another form and failing.

Mystri watched with a smug look of amusement on her face, the scent of seared flesh rather pleasant even with it being undead flesh. The locket was dropped back into its protective sheath and as darkness returned she delivered the rest of her warning, "the last thing you want is for me to get kicked out Jolie...because once I'm no longer a student here, well, then it's just you and me settling old debts."

A glance at the menacing glare from the normally morose Margot, "And new ones."

"Leave me be leaches. And I'll leave you be." Her fingers stroked over the chain of the necklace again. "Trust me when I say I'm prepared to end things as quickly as possible should you start them again."

Blizzard Vaughn

Date: 2011-10-18 16:11 EST
?Academic probation? What the hell does that mean?? Blizzard murmured as he crumbled the note and shoved it in his pocket, heading toward Ozzie?s room. The Vaden who had delivered the missive was far too distracted to explain its meaning, rushing off after hurling it at Blizz to catch the flapping coattails of a passing student on fire.

He was already struggling with coming up with a good ascension theory, much to the chagrin of Stormsabre?s Overseer, Fleur Rousseau, and found it fitting that he was paired with a mentor who was trying to rediscover his own personal value and sense of worth in Benedykt. Self-motivation was already in a constant state of flux for the pugilist-turned-abjurist when it came to the school, and it was these sorts of hardships that made him question whether or not he should even continue attending. Hell, if he were honest with himself he?d admit that, half of the time, the only reason he was still enrolled was Ozzie and Xera.

?and maybe Fleur.

He reached for the doorknob when he arrived but stopped short of throwing it open, gaze inclined and focused on the note tacked at eye level.

?Do what alone?? He questioned with an arching brow, though that confused expression quickly turned sour as realization sunk in. ?The wash thingy.? He?d promised Mystri they?d hit the Warg Drive together.

Damn it.

He tore the piece of paper from the door and flipped it over, scribbling a quick message there with a handy spell upon the tip of his finger.O
Can?t do this afternoon cause I suck. See you tonight. Love ya.
B


He re-tacked it to the door and turned, heading out.

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-10-20 11:09 EST
Chamber Ocimum

She didn't wait for the door to finish fully disintegrating before she flowed through it. There was an inhuman quality to her movements, her willowy body carried with a hint of menace that warned that what lurked upon their doorstep was not to be trifled with.

"Albion Sepherock." If her lip twitched in a sneer it was perhaps unrelated to him?

A nod. Curt. Sharp. But a greeting at the very least as she turned her cutting gaze from him to the one he brandished a wand at, "Are you Amadeus Litos?"

He looked weak. If there was one thing she couldn't stand it was weakness. Granted, Albion looked weak as well but he had proven himself in class before and this thought tamped the derision down a notch.

She'd been hunting her brethren when Ashriel had sent out his gentle reminder that House ViperFang had better be working toward their expectations. She clearly wasn't. In fact, she hadn't been at the school at all, closing in on a cousin whose blood she was craving to taste.

His death had been viciously satisfying. Now that he'd been dispatched she could focus her attention on her course requirements. Ascensions. A new student to mentor. More trouble to stir.

Her attention was refocused on her tasks and currently it burrowed into the two young men before her.

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-20 14:05 EST
Amadeus had been eying the slender box in Albion's hands when the knock came to the door. Briefly, his gaze flicked over to the shut portal before returning to Albion at his query.

"Well, I uh-" he stopped short, interrupted by the command word that made the door intangible. His eyes widened as he stared out through the invisible barrier at the blood spattered woman who stood outside. He began to fidget nervously, fingers took up their usual routine of tapping against his legs when the door melted from sight.

"Yes, I am Amadeus," slowly, his long limbs stretched out to bring him up to stand. His body turned toward her and the door, eyes studiously darting here and there to note the minute details of how she presented herself, amongst other things.

"Who are you?

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-21 07:33 EST
Her entrance conjured a sense of awareness and caution within Albion, a subconscious step backwards used to add distance between them. She was a predator wrapped in a schoolgirl uniform, and while the sight did impart visions of the last manga novella he had read, this was so much more real.

So much more deadly.

The thin box he held was placed on the bed far too close to the edge, resulting in its toppling with an audible crash that sent the assortment of wands it possessed rattling out across the floor in a multitude of directions. He winced at the clatter, emerald eyes snapping to the source of the sound before quickly returning to drift between the two. ?My apologies.? He said quietly, lowering to a knee to gather the items.

With a lanky rapidity he collected the wands and replaced them within their coffin, making sure to categorize them appropriately amongst the velvet covered prongs used to position them. He stood, lean and tall, and started for the closet to replace the box yet stalled at Chicka?s utterance of Amadeus? name. There was just something unnerving about the way she said it.

He looked back, caught in midstride between them and the exposed closet door, and paused. Discomfort normally had his mouth unraveling in circumlocutory prattle to equipoise the tension, yet the deadly glint that flickered across the Cambion?s slanted gaze had his words congregating in his throat, disinterested in any sort of verbal presentation.

Instead he simply watched, reserved to quietly follow the pending conversation.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-10-23 09:55 EST
And still the sky was filled with stars.

Standing upon the balcony extending off his room, Ashriel observed them with a renewed awareness. It had been an eternity since last he?d been able to look upon such splendor as the curse that condemned him to a duel existence reserved the twilight hours for Iameth alone. There had been a time when he loved the night, loved the mystic aura of the moon and its magical glow, but all of that was lost when he took on the penal connection to his mortal enemy. It was then that he surrendered the night, ensuring the imprisonment of Iameth forever.

And now, somehow, the night had returned.

He couldn?t explain it, but the hours in which he was dominant were becoming longer, suppressing the demon inside who instead should have been conscious. Their shared sentience had adamantly maintained its clockwork schedule for centuries up until that point; the balance suddenly upset by some unknown factor. It wasn?t a complaint by any stretch of the imagination considering who it was that he kept locked away, but Ashriel could not deny that it was a bit unnerving to not know the source of this sudden salvation.

He denounced the instinctive urge to find a mirror and question Iameth face to face, certain there would be no information gained. If Iameth knew why his imprisoned time inside the body they shared was sustained he would have surely found a way to, scheme, lie, and deceive a way out.

If he knew how to escape, he?d already be free.

?My goodness, Overseer.? Came an enchanted greeting from behind him, the whisper of cool breath tickling his ear with intimate closeness. ?How strange to see you out and about at this late hour.?

Startled, he turned with an arched brow, wizard robes and ivory tresses fanning out around him. The wards of his room should have made him aware of any trespassers and yet, in this case, such magic seemed to have failed.

Emilina Berland leaned against the gilded archway that led to the balcony from his room, arms and ankles folded in a casual stance as she traced over him with eyes beholden of appreciation. ?It?s been a while, Ashriel.?

?What do you want?? His voice was stern, indicative of his displeasure. They had history, and it wasn?t of the friendly sort. In fact, it had been he who personally orchestrated her fall from Overseer of House Satyrkiss.

?Easy, Overseer. I saw your door open and wanted to make sure you were alright.? Eyes of arctic blue licked across him once more. ?So far, so good.?

?I did not invite you in.? His gaze, sapphire like hers though much richer and darker, narrowed. ?How did you surpass the wards??

?I know the safe word.? She admitted as she stepped off the doorframe with a sinuous stretch, the flimsy neglig?e she wore doing little to conceal the lustful contours of her supple body, barely concealing the junction of her thighs. ?Iameth told me.?

?I doubt that. Not even Iameth would reveal this room?s password to one of a rival house, much less it?s former Overseer.? The last part was added in hopes of slicing through the glacial bravado that radiated from her.

It failed. Her thin, razor-blade grin remained upon chiseled features as she moved to where he stood with a sensual stride, hips rolling, legs reaching. She stopped only when the distance between them was so scarce that the lush curves of her body grazed the span of his chest with her gentle inhales. ?You?d be amazed at what Iameth will reveal under the right?persuasion.?

Her breath trickled across his lips but did little to deter his irritation, her attempted seduction falling upon deaf ears. ?Still, I doubt that he would disclose to you the password, regardless of your influence.?

In a husky refutation of his assessment Emilina laughed, bringing her hands up to elegantly walk slender fingers along the thick span of his clothed pectoral. ? Now, now, Ashriel, of course he would?? She leaned forward, rising up onto her toes to drag the tips of her satin covered breasts against him; her mouth suddenly against his ear. ??so that he can fuck me whenever I need him to?? Teeth came together in gentle search of his earlobe. ??which is often.?
Ashriel sneered, his strong hand taking her by the arm and shoving her to the side with little effort. ?Be gone.? He snapped.

She stumbled away, though it did little to diminish her derisive laughter. Gathering herself, Emilina resumed her sensual performance as though there had been no interlude, her slender hands smoothing the satiny nightgown across her svelte planes with a suggestive caress. ?I shall be, Ashriel, you needn?t worry about that.? She turned to make her exit, though as she reached the archway leading from the balcony she shot the Overseer of House Viperfang a wistful look. ??that is, until Iameth returns. Nighty night.?

Ashriel released her from his gaze with a simple pivot, once more looking out across the eastern horizon of the school with inclined eyes soaking in the sight of those glorious stars.

Though he remained, it seemed that the night still wasn?t his.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-10-23 23:18 EST
Chamber Parthenium

Saph had been moving her things around, indecisive about how the room best suited her, at least her side. She didn't know who her roomate was yet. There was even an antechamber, she had converted into a bedroom for the girls, a winter paradise, now she had finally moved them out of the den. The floor was a blanket of snow, to be contained by walls of ice, complete with impressive pillars. Great ice stalactites descended from the ceiling glittering prismatic hues and softly illuminating the room. Their beds were side by side along the west wall, each with a canopy crafted of shimmering frost. She'd even created a slide of solid ice to help keep them occupied.

She was currently eying her bookshelf. It was already crammed with books on moon phases, lunar cycles, lycanthrope physiology, magical theory, elementalism, defense magics, portals and gates, summoning, ritual, demonology (inspired by Damien) and herbology. She'd rearranged it three times then moved it clear across the room, her desk having been shoved aside and turned to make space. She was contemplating her bed when she heard a knock, and turned with a bit of a start. "Kish! Hey, what's going on? I thought you'd be moving into your new dorm." Kish stepped in and looked around the room at length before resting a sparkling gaze on her. "I am."

She looked blankly at him a moment, before realization dawned. "Really?! Oh, Kish that's great!!" She closed the gap and threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. Kish laughed as he returned the embrace. "I see you have the girls set up already, it looks good. Where are they, anyway?" Saph nuzzled his neck. "In the infirmary. They've taken quite a liking to Mistress Evahlys and visit almost daily. I'm Told Sadie has quite the knack for the healing arts and already has been practicing here...." A sweep of her hand to the one place in the girl's room not encased in ice, a hutch six feet by six feet, containing an injured and obviously well tended gryphon cub. It was obviously very young, too young to be away from it's mother. "Is that a...?" Kish's eyes widened in disbelief.

Saphira nodded. "Yes, we found it on a hunt, half dead, ravens were already picking at it while it was laying there. We saw no sign of the mother, and Sadie insisted I let her save it. She's done surprisingly well. Even Mistress Evahlys has praised her efforts." Kish beamed, kissing her cheek. "She's as sharp as that sting of hers. I'm not surprised. Has Adora shown any interest in healing?" "No," Saphira replied. "She's more interested in how things work, and I often find her playing with her food, pulling apart organs to see what goes where. I have to keep reminding her to eat." Kish blanched. "Ugh...that's a little...gross." "Mmmm. She asked Sadie if she could dissect the Gryphon if it died, Sadie got pretty upset."

Kish chuckled. "I don't think she's going to have to worry too much about that, it looks pretty good to me, well, save for the bandages and all." Kish finally released her from the embrace, though a bit reluctantly. "I should probably start getting my things settled in, I have a ton of books to get put away, my wands, charms and of course my figurines. I'll show you my newest ones when I finish, how's that?" Saph nodded, turning to her desk, contemplating it again. "Sounds great. Hey, If I move this over there we could push the bookshelves together.... or oh! I have it!!" after a quick search she produced her wand and flicked it first at the bookshelves then the wall.

Moments later, the entire wall was an enormous bookcase, ornately decorated and with enough room for a miniature library of books. Which was a good thing, because that's about how many Kish had. They spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking books, before they got to personal affects and eventually, finished. Just as He was setting up his last figurine the twins burst in, chattering excitedly, and as soon as they saw Kish they fairly tackled him. "Daddy!" They squealed in unison as they all tumbled to the floor. "Ooof!" Was all he could muster as the breath was knocked from him. As soon as he recovered he laughed. "You two will rival your mother in strength soon if you keep growing so fast! Here, I was just about to show your mom something, would you like to see too?"

Of course the girls were instantly excited. "Yes, oh yes!" "Please daddy what is it?" "You have to let me up first," he laughed. Obediently Sadie and Adora let him up, eyes gleaming as they watched him get up and go to one of his bags, to withdraw his newest creations. A set of figurines, identical to each other, furry, scorpion tailed, little girls. "Oh, Kish!" Saphira breathed. "Those are wonderful." The girls were cooing and awwing over them. "That's us! daddy it's us! Momma, look! Do you see, momma do you see?!?" From his perch in the corner even Lune looked amused at the girls' antics. "Yes, girls they're lovely. But I think it's time to eat. Kish?" Kish added the two newest to his collection displayed on a shelf all their own. "Yeah, I'm starved. But, if you don't mind, I'd rather not have something you hunted tonight. I'm thinking... The bistro in the marketplace square." Sadie and Adora lit up. "Please, momma?"

Saphira Winked at Kish before answering. "Weeeell....." Drawing it out. "I suppose.. I didn't really feel like hunting anyway." "It's settled then." Kish finalized. "Girls, go brush your fur and pick out your nice dresses, we're going out." Eagerly each twin disappeared into their room to dress. Saphira smiled at Kish. "You're buying."

Bayliss Cartier

Date: 2011-10-23 23:53 EST
Laurus Wing

A few simple hand gestures and the door to her room swung open-the golems she'd set to guard straightened to let her pass. Not that she was overly concerned about anyone entering her room. Anything she'd set in place was more of a 'follow the leader' routine than anything else. As a novice she lacked real finesse and skill in wards and protection. She knew this and she knew everyone else knew this also.

Dipping a finger into the fountain that sat in the far right hand corner of her room brought the water to life. A quiet burble and bubble filled the air. She couldn't stand silence.

And damn it all. She was tired. It had been at least two days since she'd allowed herself to sleep. The nightmares that had followed had been enough to make her look over her shoulder at every corner and empty hallway.

Grabbing her books she tossed them all onto her bed.

"May as well try to get some work done."

Her familiar, Cirrus, came and went as it pleased. It appeared at the foot of the bed in a crackle of thunder and lightening.

"Seriously? This is not the time to be needy."

She glanced up from untying her shoelaces and kicked her boots to the floor.

"Go. Shoo. Unless you can tell me how conjure anything and everything I need for class this week. Don't distract me."

It was pointless though. Even as Cirrus drifted off to another part of the room and Bayliss focused on her studies. Her eyelids grew heavy and the Sandman won again..

The Nightmare Keeper would pay her another visit.

Bayliss Cartier

Date: 2011-10-24 21:06 EST
Laurus Wing

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say, ? Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.-Lysander, scene i.

The room was a sickly shade of gray with faded, peeling floral wall paper. Bayliss stepped through the doorway.

"Morrighan?" She didn't know why she was calling for her sister. But, anytime she dreamed in shades of gray.. It was always of her sister.

"Morri?" The girl she remembered was a lanky 6'2". All sharp angles and bone. Full of life which was why Bayliss had loved spending time with her. The rockstar sister never kept to the curfew and never made her eat what was on the menu her parents had sent. She had also been irresponsible and reckless leaving the five year old Bayliss alone many nights with a box of cereal, a carton milk and instructions to call Simon if anything went wrong.

Simon never answered the phone.

No one answered the phone.

She had always been alone.

Where there had not been a phone there was one, setting in the corner of that gray room. It rang.

Brrrrring...

This was just a dream. Waves lapped around her ankles.

Brrrrrring...

The phone was three feet closer. Ivy grew up the walls.
Brrrrrinnnnngg.....

She reached out to answer it..

As she picked up the receiver and opened her mouth to speak one of her teeth fell out, then another. Cupping her hand beneath her mouth to catch them as they fell.

"Morri! Answer me! Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!" She was no longer holding the phone but shaking the lifeless body of her sister.... Her teeth falling to the floor in a clatter..

One by one like the pieces of a glacial breaking off into the sea.

Crashing.

Wake up, Bayliss... Wake up..
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bayliss woke up with a scream caught in her throat and a cold sweat prickling the back of her neck.

"Ffffffffff.......!"

2:37 a.m.

Rubbing a hand over her face as she sat up and turned on the lights.
That would be the end of her sleep for this night and the next couple of nights to come.

Keric St.Clair

Date: 2011-10-25 23:19 EST
He?d been summoned to the Satyrkiss lounge and was late?.again.

The first time he was late Veronique saw to it that his classes were rearranged, scattered about the institute to ensure that his time between courses was spent in flight, leaving little time to meander. Less time to play meant fewer distractions, and fewer distractions meant better efficiency, or so the theory went.

When he was late the second time, the Overseer spoke directly to the Mistress of Bardic Magic, Bianca Van Blaudin, about his proficiency with his violin, requesting that she instill in him a confidence regarding his other musical assets ? in other words, she saw to it that his passion and his strength, his violin, was replaced by other means of bardic magic; his voice?and a cello. A fucking cello.

Still, neither of the consequences for his tardiness swayed him from being late when the latest summons came. Doing so would tilt the balance of their little game in favor of the seductive Sorceress, and that just wasn?t something Keric St.Clair could do.

With a languorous stroll he crossed the archway leading into the lounge. The wards of magic were felt in a warm caress across his skin, recognizing him as one able to freely enter, thus keeping their harmful charms away.

He wore the Institute?s uniform lazily; the stark shirt only half buttoned, sleeves rolled to the elbow, with a tie carelessly wreathing his neck. Constantly he was reminded of how indecorous such an appearance was, and constantly he didn?t care.

A sinfully plush chaise was his destination and as he arrived his attention diverted to the single doorway across the room, where a young novitiate appeared, her hair tousled and uniform askew in that lubricious way. ?My goodness.? He said with a small laugh. ?Seems that someone has been a busy girl.?

Her eyes, downtrodden with exhaustion and embarrassment, flickered his way in brief contact before quickly returning to the floor. Her strides were swift and short, legs weakly unwilling to come apart.

?Might I ask what you?ve been doing?? He asked with mordant mirth, lips spun in a wicked grin. ??or should I say?who??

?Unfortunately, Keric, it wasn?t you.?

The voice poured across his senses with ambrosial flare and there, standing in the doorway from which the novice appeared was the lustful vision of Satyrkiss? Overseer, Veronique. As always, she was bathed in the clingy embrace of a scarlet gown, its tight caress sharing with those who viewed her the delectable swells and curves of her utterly flawless body. Rich claret hair was fashionably coifed, framing her alluring features intimately; accentuating the icy eyes that raked over him and plush mouth moistened by the tip of a pink tongue.

?A shame.? He sang as he laced his hands behind his head, getting a bit more comfortable in his recline upon the chaise. ?If only I had been so lucky.?

?You could have been, had you been on time.? Veronique made her way across the room with a long-legged stride punctuated by the click of heels, the span of her creamy limbs easily seen thanks to the seductive slit along the front of her attire. ?It?s one of the reasons I summoned you.?

His dark eyes shifted to the Novice, taking account of the scarlet stain adorning her cheeks in response to the Sorceress? edict, and then slowly returned. ?I look forward to redeeming myself of this little oversight.?

?No need.? She said dismissively, a wave of her graceful hand shooing the notion as she rounded the couch where he lay. ?I had Veles take care of it.?

?Veles?? The surprise in Keric?s melodic inflection was undeniable, though before Veronique could answer another figure appeared in that popular portal across the chamber.

Ducking through the archway, the giantkin spell-caster emerged wearing only a comfortable pair of pants, the thick cords of muscle lining his chest, shoulders and arms unveiled for viewing. The ghost of exertion tarnished his handsome visage, recovering from an earlier endeavor.

The Novice.

Keric again glanced at her ? that ruby hue twice as dark with Veles? arrival ? before returning to Veronique. ?Unfair, Overseer. I?m a bit disappointed.?

?Then you know how I feel about your lack of punctuality, Keric.? She hissed as she gracefully stepped from the stiletto heels, leaving them in her wake. A wisp of magic easily encircled her statuesque form, and as though that crimson gown was comprised of liquid she stepped forth and left it behind to hang in the air, exposing the glorious details of her nude figure as she bled from within to the observant eyes of the bard. ?My summons is not a request.?

Keric?s grin manifested patiently at the luxurious unveiling of Veronique, who was fully appraised by a descending gaze, meticulous in its scrutiny. ?My apologies.? He softly replied.

?Don?t apologize to me, Keric. Apologize to her.? She chimed as she reached across him with one creamy leg and lowered to straddle his hips, the slick cradle of her naked apex grinding down upon him. Leaning back, she sat fully erect and indulged in the swollen pressure against her sensual warmth. A sinful moment passed before her glacial regard was breeched by the parting of thick lashes. ?She was expecting your generosity, and not that of a giant?s.?

The bard?s chuckle was nearly evil as he turned those noir pools upon Veles, specifically the area in which she indicated. ?Hmmm, well?nothing much I can do there.? His body was relaxed beneath her, face a mask of sardonic apathy. ?It?s not like you get to handpick your ship.?

?True.? Her elegant hands found the plateau of his chest and rode upon him as she very gently rolled her hips, tainting the groin of his uniform pants with the heady dew of her lust. ??only the way in which you sail it.?

Though he looked indifferent to her attempted seduction he couldn?t help the pulsating arrival of turgidity that answered her wicked undulation. He kept his hands behind his head, well aware that to caress the Overseer of House Satyrkiss was to succumb to her carnal petition. ?Ahoy.?

A musical laughter parted her painted mouth as she careened sweetly, lowering to brush a soft kiss first across his mouth and then along his cheek. ?Your sister, Cassidy, is such a great fit?? She whispered hotly against the shell of his ear. ?So tight?so warm?? Another incessant grind came, this one driving her down upon him with a fervent demand. ??so dedicated. Why can?t you be more like her??

His jaw clenched at the touch of her breath along his ear, though it was her question that elicited a responses. He chuckled, dark and heated, as he angled his head away from her to minutely escape. ?A question most have pondered my entire life.?

Now resting upon her elbows, Veronique took Keric by the face and turned him to look directly up at her, her beatific visage painted with sinister glee. ?Awww, have I struck a nerve?? She teased.

He forced a grin, albeit through tight teeth. ?Never, Overseer.?

Her laughter was condescending and short lived as she lowered her lips to brush across his; the tip of her tongue expelled to lick along the corner of his mouth gently. ?Good. I need you to do me a favor, Keric. Are you?? She gyrated smoothly, raking the satiny cusp of her damp pussy against his groin. ??willing??

His breath was clipped by another clenching, this one more from arousal than irritation. Still his hands were behind his head, cupping his skull to keep from reaching out. ?Always.? He purred.

?Good.? She tilted her head, angling her lips to steal a deep kiss from him. She could feel his resistance wavering and administered her talented tongue once more, parting his mouth and delving within. She found his tongue, a compliant companion, and indulged in it momentarily. Finally she withdrew and sat up, a delicious shiver running the length of her nubile form as she rested upon his clothed shaft. ?I need information.?

?Information? Hmmm, from the feel of it you need something else.? Lips contoured, the slender tiers bending into a smirk as he kept his gaze steady, locked into hers.

?Oh I do.? She hummed, her hands once more finding the slender muscles of his chest as she began to slowly writhe in sensuous simulation of a more erotic act. ??I need it bad.?

Her slender weight felt good against his groin, the warmth bleeding through his pants to embrace the aching length of his engorged cock. Warding off the ravenous expression that sought to claim his handsome visage he instead arched a brow, the smirk firmly in place. ?Perhaps another time.? He quietly voiced. ??I?ve got so much work to get done.?

That persistent undulation came to a sudden stop as she threw back her head, spilling that thick, rich hair between her shoulder blades. ?Oh Keric, you are so delightfully amusing. From you all I need is information.? She drew in a deep breath, raising her hands to cup her lavish breasts and stroke them softly through the length of her stretch. Once complete, she lowered, bending at the waist until her taut nipples drug against his chest, their faces scant inches apart. ?Iameth has been spending an inordinate amount of time with Viperfang?s bard, Cadence Smyth. I need you to find out why.?

?How am I to do that??

?You are so creative, Keric, I?m sure you?ll come up with something.?

Keric narrowed his eyes, the darkness therein accentuated by the continued leer that marred his lips. ?And is this my punishment for being late yet again??

A husky chortle escaped as she lowered her lips to brush against his, silkily sliding against the non-responsive bows. ?Not at all, that is just a task.? She folded her hands upon his chest and lowered the sharp point of her chin to rest there. This simple lean crushed the delectable swell of her breasts against his chest and bowed her back, arching her hips higher. ?Your punishment for being late is that you?re going to watch while Veles fucks me?? The flicker of her tongue caught his top lip and licked across it. ??on top of you.?

Keric tightened his lips to refute the initial profanity seeking liberation, never one to lose his cool. The laced fingers behind his head tightened to ensure they didn?t lash out and smoothly he swiveled his head to the side to view Veles, who approached with a hard grin, unfastening his pants.

Amadeus

Date: 2011-10-27 11:49 EST
Whenever he closed his eyes, Amadeus witnessed a scene that had haunted him since he left the home of his father and the Litos family. There was a great white manor, glorious and beautiful, sitting atop a grassy green hill. The courtyard was a collection of many gardens, all home to various plants from all over the country. His mother and her servants tirelessly cared for the garden each day, sometimes harvesting certain herbs to make medicine or other poultices. Amadeus was just a boy; he couldn?t remember any of the faces of those he once knew. It was nighttime, the moon was full and shining bright, bathing the land in its gentle, silver caress.

There were sounds from outside, the shouts of men and women muffled by the walls between the dozing boy and the outside world. The sounds sparked his curiosity and he crept from his bed and into the hall. A servant rushed past him, her nondescript face pale with fear?or maybe it was the moonlight flooding in from the large window opposite his door. Stretching onto his toes, Amadeus peered out the window at the courtyard in front of his family home. A mob of men and women were gathered, brandishing torches, pitchforks, knives, swords, cleavers, cudgels and anything they could wrap their hands around. They roared defiantly up at the manor and one pointed at the confused boy.

A rock flew through the air and crashed through the window; shattering glass and making him fall back with a cry of fear and pain. Something warm and wet trickled down his forehead and he reached up to touch it. When he looked at his fingers a bright red streak of blood had covered them, standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He began to sob for his mother. Why did they throw the rock at him? Why were they so angry? He scrambled to his feet and gingerly stepped over the broken glass and hurried down the hall toward the large set of doors that opened to his mother and father?s room.

They flew open upon his arrival, but the room was empty.
Someone grabbed him from behind and hoisted him over their shoulder. He cried out in alarm, banging on the hard back of his captor. ?Let me go!? he shouted, squirming about in a futile attempt to slip free.
?Hush,? said a gruff voice. He recognized it. It was the man his father had always called Uncle. ?Not a word out of yeh, yer father?s said for me t? take yeh away until it settles here, yeh understand??

He could not stop the tears and they made him ashamed. The boy?s father had always said men do not cry. But he was a boy, surely he would be forgiven? Amadeus squirmed again and the man named Uncle growled.

?Where?s mother??

?I said not a word, didn? I?? the snarling voice made him bite his tongue. Amadeus said nothing else after that, but watched the fine carpeting beneath Uncle?s feet fade away to the wood of the entrance hall, the stone of the kitchens, dirt of the basement, and the grass of the fields outside. They were by the stables, he could smell the horses. When he was right-side-up again it was on a saddle, astride a great destrier, his father?s prized steed. Uncle held him in place as the horse galloped off, someone had already saddled it.

He craned his neck to peer past the barrel chested man behind him. The people swarmed the doors of the manor, a torch flew through the air and lit one of his mother?s beautiful gardens on fire. He heard someone scream and saw a great flash of blood right light. Several at the front of the mob collapsed and the dark form of his father stepped out into the courtyard, brandishing a sword in one hand while something dark and twisted whirled around the other.

They swarmed around the man; Amadeus saw several more collapse before they blocked his father from view. He tried to shout something, but Uncle?s hand slapped over his mouth and muffled the sound. He flailed desperately, they would hurt his father, he had to go and stop them.

?Yeh can?t do them any good, boy. Stop fightin?, they?ll hang yeh like the rest if yeh go back.?

He woke with a start. As usual, a cold sweat made his shirt cling to his chest. He ran a hand through his damp hair and breathed out a shuddering sigh. The faces were always pale blurs, not a one betraying any hint of what the person might have looked like. Everything else was vivid, as it had always been. His lips moved silently and his shaking fingers struggled to form the complex gestures required for the cantrip he had been practicing so diligently since his arrival. He felt something wash over his body, a warm, relaxing sensation that eased his breathing and stilled his trembling. He slid back into sleep soon after, the enchantment did its work.

Bryn Barron

Date: 2011-10-29 08:00 EST
?Have you missed me?? he asked with a smile, the coy turn of lips a unique challenge, as formidable as the solid, muscle-clad form mercilessly flattening her against the stone wall in the hallway outside of the summoning chambers.

Shielding the vacancy of her eyes with a low flutter of lashes, Bryn displayed a fabricated timidity, fluidly adopting the sleek passiveness for which Felix was so fond.? Without a plump cushion of curves, her skeleton was crushed against the stone, transmitting the sharp dig of ribs and hips to his assertive shield of brawn.? He was hurting her, but she didn?t protest.

A small whimper moved her mouth.? It?s weak echo bounced along the ceremoniously torchlit corridor, vanishing into the shadows.

?Is that a yes?? he growled against her ear, an inartistic hand gripping her chin and forcing her face the the side, allowing him to nip violently at the fragile column of her neck.

?Apprentice Foster.?

The gravely-articulated syllables fell like a death-knell, deep and irrefutable.

Felix immediately released the pressure pinning his prey to the well, a silent sigh preceding the resigned: ?Yes, Master Smout?n??

?Surely you have somewhere else you should be right now.?? Torchlight spilled over the approaching dark-robed figure of the Necromancy instructor, his steps as even and heavy as a metronome, counting, ticking precious time away with their bully advance.?

Felix voiced the very same words as before, the inquiry bleeding into submission as he backed away from his petite housemate, smoothing the lines of his prefectly-pressed apprentice jacket: ?Yes, Master Smout?n.?

?Bryn,? the Necromancer intoned, her common name a hollow-sounding beckon upon the rumble of his ponderous voice.? The command that followed was a unspoken and unmistakable: an acknowledging dip of his chin and the ensuing, refined extension of his arm, offering the crook of his elbow to his pretty pupil.? Stilettos snapped sharply against the corridor floor in a hurried dash of a rhythm, the crimson folds of her short apprentice cape shifting provocatively around the uppermost of black-stockinged thighs.? Threaded through the offered elbow was her fearfully slender arm, adorned in an elegant ebon opera glove, silk-sheathed fingertips resting lightly upon the Instructor?s forearm.

Bryn glanced backwards once as they retreated toward the necromancy annex, the tilt of her generous lips cold as she watched Felix?s still form grow progressively smaller.

***

Despite the fact that she?d never seen Master Smout?n?s private quarters, the dark opulence of the rooms precisely fit her fancies of his dwelling.? Inky drapes fell in formal folds against textured red walls, infernal portraits crowding the open spaces in their gilded frames, all lit with ebon, bone-crafted chandeliers.?

The instructor?s chilled fingers released the pin fastening her cloak with a simple brush, his black eyes relinquishing a bit of their severity as they beheld the ensemble below her cover:? a sinfully short dress of midnight lace, the delicate threading offering a black floral web against the perfect paleness of her flesh.? It was at once too low and too high, the neckline dipping dangerously onto the small, pert swells of her breasts; the hem of the skirt barely sufficing to cover the compact curves of her ass.? For all of the exposure, her legs were solidly sheathed with sheer black silk, the austere hosiery terminating a couple of inches below her dress, leaving a maddeningly provocative glimpse of slim thighs.?

Smout?n nodded once, abruptly dismissing the wickedly-pretty picture from his inspection as he moved to tuck her cloak away. ?Dinner will be ready shortly,? he remarked, his voice a bit gentler. ?The books are over there.?

On cue, a couple of candles flared to life on a low, lacquered table before a black, claw-footed couch. As indicated, half a dozen ancient tomes there rested, the maliciousness of their content foretold by their darkly-decorated covers.

?Thank you,? Bryn responded, her gloved fingertips toying with one of the many strands of black pearls draping between her mostly-bare breasts.

But even as the young necromancer's words fell to silence, her instructor was gone, presumably to check on the meal, leaving her to the shadows and the spells.

Alyithra

Date: 2011-10-29 14:11 EST
The Guest Wing

The guest quarters at the I.A.P. were certainly more comfortable than their quarters under Raithmoore's care, Alyithra mused to herself as she unpacked her meager personal belongings into the chest set aside for her. She hadn't expected to be uprooted and sent away, even if it was in the company of her brother, viewing everything they came across in this intimidating edifice of a school with vague suspicion thus far.

"You should not be so afraid," came the soft, silky voice of her twin. Alphyon twitched a finger as his dark lips muttered the command of a minor cantrip, an enchantment of the simplest form. His own chest was wide open and his belongings darted through the air to settle themselves comfortably within its confines as he turned bright, crimson eyes upon his sister. "This is for our benefit."

"I am not afraid," she answered, her own voice a lilting counterpart to his, never raised above a gentle tone no matter her intent. She turned to watch his display of power, closing the lid of her chest to seat herself upon it with a flick of the lustrous length of silvered-white hair she was rightly proud of. "What benefit can there be in leaving his side?"

"Our dark lord is well aware of the opportunities this institute offers us," he said, a flick of a wrist closing and securing his chest for the remainder of the night. "Have you not read of this place? I saw some of his personal notes - this institute is run by powerful beings allied with our master. And there is no shortage of knowledge to be had. He is both too busy and powerful to teach us constantly, but here there are many who may offer us what we need to better apply ourself to his command."

Alyithra was silent for a moment, acknowledging the truth in his words by her lack of argument even as she glanced at the uniforms laid out for them both. The curl of her lip was anything but approving of such a sign of conformity. Drawing in a slow breath, she returned her glittering crimson gaze to that of her brother. "I do not trust them."

"Nor are you expected to," his voice shook in the air with a chuckle that was not entirely contained. His gaze flashed menacingly, red eyes cutting across the guest quarters to the door, as though someone had just barged in unannounced. "You are expected to learn, to play a part."

"You should trust no one in this world but me, Alyithra," her name carried weight from his lips, spoken with authority as much as fondness. He was attached to his sister, despite his aloof nature. "Everyone else, even Raithmoore, seeks to use you. They do not care about you. Only I do."

"And what part would you have me play, dalninuk?" she asked, a ghost of a knowing smile gracing her lips as she rose to her feet once more. She knew she was a tool for use, even for him; the difference was that Alpyhon would not intentionally endanger her in seeking to make use of her skills and talents, if only because the breaking of the bond between them would harm him just as greatly. "Am I to be the seductress, the innocent, or the studious, obedient fool?"

"You are to be whoever they expect you to be," his chin lifted, eyes rising to study her as she came to her feet. "From what I have heard, there is no shortage of such people in this place. They all wear masks and play games, none, I suspect, shall be so clever as you, dear sister. Do what you must to make them accept you, to learn more of them, and to grant us the knowledge necessary to obtain power. I will do no more and no less."

He was stating the blindingly obvious, and he knew it, but she never minded being the recipient of such pointless orders. Part of it was the need to speak the words aloud, she knew, and it was a small sacrifice of time in order to keep her brother contented. "Of these Houses I have heard tell of," she murmured thoughtfully, reaching to smooth a stray tendril of ghostly-pale hair back from his shoulder with a clear and open affection that would discomfort all but the drow, "I understand they will attempt to recruit us. Are we to separate in order to obtain this power?"

"From what I understand, Raithmoore has stressed the importance of our cooperation." His lips twitched and his hand rose to catch hers, dark, slim fingers interlacing comfortably. "Nor do I believe he would approve of joining the houses, not yet. The memory of life in the Underdark is still bitter to Raithmoore, he does not approve of such institutions easily. We should wait a while longer, and I do not think it wise to let them separate us."

Her own lips, dark and painted with a crimson deeper than the hue of her eyes, twitched into a fulsome smirk, her fingers rippling easily between those of her brother as he entwined their hands. Her voice touched his mind, no evidence of communication clear but what he heard. They can never truly separate us.

Do not be so sure. There is much power in these walls, do not underestimate it. He slowly came to his feet as his smirk finally revealed itself in full to mirror hers. "Trust me, Alyithra," he spoke aloud, his words barely above the level of a whisper. "We will flourish here."

She leaned close, her forehead touching lightly to his, not once breaking that focus of her eyes upon his as her fingers flexed in his grasp. The silence they had drawn around them was heavy, thick with what had not been said, with what others would never hear from them, an aura of oddly protective closeness. He was her brother, her twin, her other half; of course she trusted him. "With my life."

His gaze reflected her own as they maintained a startlingly intimate eye contact. "Good," his voice was a soothing murmur, carrying the weight of the power to calm. The word was spoken to her cheek, which he graced with the gentle touch of his warm, dark lips. "We shall have official quarters soon, until then, we must make do with these meager accommodations."

Her eyes closed for a moment as his lips graced her dark skin, his reflections on their 'meager accomodations' bring a luscious laugh to her throat as she drew back. "Such discerning tastes, dalninuk," Alyithra teased him wickedly. "For one who has slept on stone for his entire childhood."

"Did you not see the door we entered through? The halls that brought us here? This might as well be a broom closet compared to some of the chambers that accommodate the more prestigious students." A quiet scoff was the next thing heard from him. "No doubt we will be granted one of the grander suites; Raithmoore is not unknown to those who run the institute."

"You assume much," she warned softly, drawing away to begin the task of putting on the ridiculous uniform she had been provided with. There was no sense of modesty, no concern over her nakedness before her brother; why should there be? You did not get much closer than they were. "There is a chance that we will be kept low because that is the state in which Raithmoore has kept us."

He chuckled, stepping back to perch on his chest as he watched her with a critical gaze. "He has power of the kind the Dark Mage Daraul respects. I suspect we shall be treated well for our connection to our master, if only so we have nothing ill to say of this place when he deems it appropriate to contact us."

She rolled her crimson eyes, not convinced with his confidence but content to be reassured by it. Her robe, chosen deliberately by Raithmoore to both make the most of her feminity and humiliate her with it, fell carelessly to the floor to be replaced with the immaculate white shirt and black skirt that made up the basis of this school's dress code. "He knows I would say nothing ill to him, even were he to ask me directly," she murmured pensively. "It is your thoughts he will tender, not mine."

"They do not know this, though. They will treat us equally until they know the extent of Raithmoore's care," he said, nodding in silent approval as she dressed herself in the new uniform. "You wear it well, dalninil. You shall have no problems settling into things here."

"There is too much cloth," she complained lightly, tying the little ribbon at her collar before lifting the panties she had been given to inspect them with a very critical eye of her own. "And these seem to serve no purpose at all. Are other races so very ashamed of their sexuality that they must hide it at every turn?" She flickered a mischievous smile across to her brother as she said this; they both knew that given the chance, she'd wear just enough for convention's sake, if only to see how others would react.

"I have seen a few of the students, they wear the uniform, but they alter it to suit their preferences. Perhaps you may be able to do the same," he smirked as she inspected the undergarment. "Wear them when you roam the halls, if only for the sake of easing their minds. We do not wish to startle them so much yet." It was with a resigned sigh that he rose and began to undress himself, turning to the new uniform to see how it felt against his skin.

A careless laugh rose from her throat at the intriguing mental image he had conjured of her removing these ... things ... before every lesson. After all, he had only said roaming the halls, hadn't he? Lowering to the bed to decipher the point of little white socks, she engaged her gaze in admiring the sleek strength of her brother's form as he undressed, anotehr intimacy between siblings that would unsettle any other.

His dark robe pooled to the floor at his feet, his silk short following suit. They made a watery pile of dark cloth as he peered at the white shirt before slipping his arms into it. The material stood out in sharp contrast against his skin. When he tried the pants he found them comfortable enough, if rather plain. "I prefer my robes," partly because they were more comfortable, partly because they were easy to slip out of.

"Yet you will be the envy of many a male and the desire of many a female in those garments," Alyithra smiled, proud of how well her brother looked in his new clothing. "I will not insult you by suggesting you are handsome; you already know this is the truth." For her part, she had drawn her socks up to just below her knee, and was in the process of sliding her feet into the heeled shoes provided for her. "So many things to be considered one of the herd. It is absurd."

Piece by piece, he dressed himself until he had learned the details of each article of clothing. When he looked at the boots, he chuckled. At least those were not so unlike his own, and he pulled them on and fastened them with easy familiarity. "It is because we are new. I believe the higher ranking a student is, the more freedom with their wardrobe they are allowed. They want the novices to focus solely on their advancement. Individuality in an early magical education can be a terrible thing, it is the will to stand out that makes spells go awry. In later years, when a mage's skill grows, they can cast the spells with their own unique efforts and stylizations added to the magic, so individuality and self-expression is not so earnestly suffocated."

"That, they shall obtain from us," she smirked wickedly. "For a time, at least." Her head tilted, her eyes settling into a distant lack of focus as they always did when she was stretching the tendrils of her power outward, seeking in the way of the seer. "There are connections here ... power that is hidden, potential that is left to rot ... too many passions sated without use."

He settled to watch her curiously, knowing full well the meaning of the distance in her gaze. When her words came a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth again and he chuckled. "Do you fear that this is to be your fate, sweet sister?"

Her gaze refocused upon him with wry humor. "I fear nothing," she reminded him again. "You are the one who should fear. They will see my obedience to you and assume that you are the greater of us. Who, then, will be a tool for use?"

"You think they will seek to use me? Perhaps, and I will allow them to believe that they can for a time. But you know better than any that I am not easily manipulated, I will not allow myself to be the tool for another's ambition."

"Except, perhaps, mine." If she had one failing when it came to her brother, it was that Alyithra did like to push his patience as far as it would go with teasing words and provocative actions. Suggesting that he would lower himself to serve her ends was usually a good way to see how tense he was in any given situation.

His smirk took on a wicked edge as he turned his gaze upon her, eyes flashing darkly. "Perhaps," he mused, a quiet chuckle parting his lips. "You are feeling brave, dalninil. Be careful."

"I am sure you will punish me rightfully when I overstep the mark," she chuckled back to him, moving close to lean in and brush her lips against his ear with another wicked little whisper. "How far can I go out of Raithmoore's sight, that is the question."

His hand rose with a sudden snap, fingers curling with deceptive gentleness around the slender curve of her jaw as he watched her. "Do not presume that because we are no longer in his citadel that you may act unimpeded in my presence," he warned, his words causing warm breath to roll over her lips as he forced her to look him in the eye. "I will force you into submission without his aid, I have never needed it."

Though her smirk did not falter, the c*cky confidence of her gaze faded under the strength of her twin's warning, knowing that no matter what he chose to give her in punishment, she would take without argument. This was the way she had been raised in Raithmoore's citadel, what set her apart from other drow. "Vel'bol rin'ov dosst orn, dalninuk."

"Good," he rewarded her obedience with a kiss; his lips touched hers, sweet and warm despite the previous wrath that he had threatened her with. He released her jaw. "Never forget that."

"Under your care? Never." She smiled at the kiss, stepping back once more with a tender caress of fingertips along the sharp, smooth line of his jaw. "May I present myself to our fellow students, or do you wish to hide me away these first weeks?"

"If you wish to go meet them, I will not deny you. But guard your words and thoughts, do not let them guess at your purpose, or the nature of our relationship. They must know as little as possible."

"They will know we are siblings, surely," she mused. "The nature of that connection I will never divulge, even to the closest friend."

"That is all I ask of you."

Alyithra laughed as she drew open the door of their temporary chamber. "Ah, dalninuk, that will never be all you ask of me."

Alphyon chuckled and waved her off with a delicate hand. "Go, explore. I look forward to learning of your findings."

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-10-30 12:22 EST
He sat up quickly, sending thick crimson tresses shooting back in an elongated arch that slashed through the air like a blade. Eyes of dark emerald flashed back and forth, shifting across the familiar backdrop of the library as rapid blinks returned reality into focus, and panting breath began to settle.

Albion had fallen asleep in the library before, but this time it had been something different, something dreadful. He had been entrenched, imprisoned within this suffocating slumber and forsaken from escape until the dream was ready to release him. Since childhood the Transmuter had been able to easily discern what was dreamlike and what was real, giving him the rare ability to end the surreal imagery at his leisure. This was different, though. He still recognized it as a dream yet could not eject from its hold.

He hadn't escaped. The dream had let him go.

With his thumb he wiped at the surplus of moisture that gathered at the corner of his mouth and began to collect his things, simple gestures snaring the dispersion of a dozen books and sharply filing them into his bag - one that should have been far too small to accommodate such bulky volumes, though did the job admirably. Drawing the sack over his shoulder he rose from his seat and started for the door.

His days were filled with actual schoolwork, not to mention all of the extra-circular activates he participated in, and the last thing that he needed was for sleep to become compromised as it was not only his escape from such a demanding existence but also a crucial phase in the recovery of spent arcana. While some might consider it clich?, a good night's sleep did do wonders.

As he made his way down the winding halls of the Institute, deserted in the early hour, his thoughts drifted to the vast assortment of endeavors he indulged in. The tomb he excavated from Twilight Isle was still stashed in one of the debunk Conjuration chambers relegated to storage. The room was never visited, giving him a free run to analyze the stone-carved vault in any way he chose, which was perfect considering the amount of magic needed to explore it. Its origin paralleled Mystriana's race, of this he was certain, but beyond that he had little information.

He and Bayliss had a fledgling agreement with Tiatari Blayne to aid in her assignment regarding the Cambions, though that had momentarily gone on the allegorical backburner with time constraints and hectic agendas. Now that his schedule was starting to thin out he looked forward to reuniting with them both in advancement of the project. He was also anxious to see how Bayliss was enjoying the unraveling details of her book of Elemental Magic. He'd only ever read about such items and was greatly interested in how she was utilizing such a fascinating relic.

As he crossed an intersecting hallway he glanced to the levitating sign near the ceiling and mouthed the directions of the crimson pharos.

"Nathilium Wing."

Alaric's wing.

He hadn't seen Alaric in some time; not since he explained the misunderstanding between he and Quillyan, and wondered if his lack of involvement was intentional. It was obvious to Albion that he was upset with him for not revealing all of the pertinent information regarding their separation, even though at the time Albion was convinced that the sentient partition of forms - human and vulpine - stemming from transmutative magic asserted a sense of division amongst entities.

To Alaric (and maybe to him as well) the premise just didn't seem to hold water.

Regardless of the reason, the way the scenario played out was not to Alaric's liking, and the tansmuter really hadn't seen him since.

Leda also took up residency inside the wing. He hadn't seen the alluring succubae since the pool party, though found her gormandizing of carnal emotion captivating and wished he had enough time to study her habits more thoroughly. There was a small part of him that instantly wanted to wheedle Master Mos'em into assigning him a credited audit of the Pandemonium slave, but the notion was quickly dismissed with a small chuckle. He hadn't enough hours in the day to get done everything he was currently involved in, much less add to it.

He moved on.

The door to Chamber Ocimum was just up ahead and the sight of it re-inspired his fading vigor. Though he had just awoken inside the library, Albion was still awfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to find his bed. The thought of the warm mattress and soft sheets made his hands clench into desperate fists, anxious to touch. It was just up ahead. Not too far away. All he needed was a little patience.

Patience Powell.

He had planned on talking to her about assisting him with his ascension project, as her telekinetic talents would offer him the superfluous amount of power he required. The solidifying of astral energy was the first part, with a secondary function being the substitution of energy types, enabling a possessor of solidified astral energy and transform it into arcane mana. The second part he was planning on demonstrating with his Sorcerer Ascension, but it was never too late to get started. Again, an overzealous workload had been his nemesis, impeding him from actually speaking with her about his plans. Luckily, there was still time for that.

The door to the chamber drifted open and in he went, angling his quickening stride for his bed. The bag he carried slipped from his shoulder and crashed to the floor halfway there, forgotten as thin, pale fingers went to work on the half-dozen buttons that sealed him within his uniform shirt. Open it fell and down it went, slipping from sharp shoulders, descending along slender arms and spilling upon the floor in his wake. Sheets weren't gathered nor were pillows fluffed, but instead he collapsed upon the inviting bed with the grace of a drunk, crimson hair and lanky limbs splayed across its cushiony plateau.

"Perhaps...elemental ...energy." He groggily murmured as heavy lids veiled his eyes, the subject of his ascension project shifting to Xera. He hadn't seen her in a while either, which was understandable considering her predicament; balancing a tortuously passionate relationship with Blizzard and Ozalynne while trying to appease the watchful eye of her consort, Enzir. He was certain that the last thing she needed was to be bothered with pedagogical theories...

...but that didn't mean he wouldn't ignore this empathy and take advantage of an airtight excuse to pay her a visit.

With strenuous effort eyes reemerged, if only to glance about in search of Amadeus, his roommate. They'd started talking about crafting a wand and he fully intended to help the Novice in any way that he could. He liked him. There was a sort of kindred connection there that he couldn't explain.

Suddenly sleep took hold yet again.

The world became dark.

And beautiful.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-11-01 15:12 EST
Leaving the Satyrkiss lounge....Part one.


"It's a bit late, don't you think?"

The familiar intonation of that sinful voice drifted across her senses, sending Cadence twirling about to face the dark alcove from which it came, the hem of her short dress flaring out to expose tone, tanned thighs. Her eyes narrowed accusingly, even as her plush mouth fell open in a grin. "Iameth, are you following me?"

From the umbral recess the Sorcerer emerged, enveloped in black silk and draconic wings. His empty lavender eyes lingered upon the sensuous form of the Bard as he matched her smile with his own, revealing rows of vicious fangs with twin tongues lurking behind. "With the view you offer, my dear, following you is never a bother."

Her curtsy was sarcastic, though perfectly performed. "Why thank you."

A glance beyond, just over her shoulder, placed his gaze upon the distant corridor leading to the Satyrkiss lounge. "What did you learn?"

She gasped, her pretty face suddenly painted with feigned concern. "What did I learn? Are you worried that the secrets of Viperfang have led me to looking for a replacement house, Iameth?"

His laughter was rich though quiet, the hour well beyond Sartha's steadfast curfew. "I'm certain that you are happy with your current situation, Cadence. Very happy."

That artificial expression cracked with his sentient as she took a small step forward, closing the distance between them. Raising her hand, she poked him in the chest with the heel of her shoes, carrying instead of wearing them to keep from clicking along the marble floor. "You're pretty sure of that, aren't you?"

"I am."

Onto her tippy toes she went, brushing her lips gently across his lavender cheek. "Guilty."

He accepted the kiss welcomingly, his right hand lifting to lightly rest upon her hip. It was a fleeting touch, though one that he enjoyed administering. "How was your little trip with Keric St.Clair?"

"Why does it seem like getting down with you always relates to business?" She flashed another pearly smile before glancing down the hall the way in which she had been traveling. "Walk with me? Being discovered by big bad blue isn?t nearly as bad when you are with a Sorcerer."

"Big bad blue?" He asked just moments before the revelation arrived. "Ah yes, Sartha." Falling into step beside her, he moved with a languid, prowling, stride. As a Sorcerer, Iameth was immune to the Dorm Curfew and thus could ignore the snarling menace of a rather monstrous Minotaur.

After rounding a corner, assuring that there were no prying ears, she looked at him. "It went well. We are in the same novitiate bard class and have been studying together." She glanced away, quiet consideration filling her eyes. "I like him."

"Will you invite him to join you for your concert?" He made a habit of bringing up the concert, as it seemed to always instill in the beatific bard a sense of enjoyment.

This time it was no different. She clapped her hands together. "I just might! He's quite the marvel with his instrument."

Iameth paused, a playful dubiousness meeting her gaze. "Is he now?"

Her melodious laugh came just before she smacked him on the shoulder. "You know what I mean. His violin!"

"Of course." He said with a slight bow. "My apologies."

Again they started forward.

"Do you intend to be lovers?" He suddenly asked, the question so startling that it stole a gasp from the young bard.

"I...wait, what? Who? Me and Keric?"

He met her eyes boldly and nodded, the glisten of black horns catching the passing candlelight eerily.

She said nothing for a few steps, her eyes falling to the floor. Finally they returned and she quietly avowed. "I only have one lover."

"Just one?"

"Yes, just one." A chortle quickly followed, along with a slight blush to her cheeks. "Well, two if you count Grail, but I still consider that a part of you." She then added. "And not a common occurrence."

"What about Mystri? I was led to believe that you and she were rather ...close."

"We are close." She admitted before reevaluating the answer. "Were close, I guess I should say. Mystri is...complex."

"So it would seem."

He could feel the sense of loss prevailing from the reminder of her former muse and instead decided to shift gears, figuring that it might be good to shock the system a bit. "I want you to keep a close eye on Keric." He instructed. "I'm interested in him."

"In him, or in his little side job?"

Iameth's grin was wicked as he once more flashed those ferocious fangs gleefully. "I'd be lying if I said that our little entrepreneur's dealings weren't part of my reasoning."

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she lightly twirled the heels she totted. "So you want me to spy on him? Hmmm, and what do I get for doing this?"

"Seems the time you've spent with Mr. St.Clair has ignited your own fire for enterprise." He smirked. "I tell you what, as payment for doing this I'll make sure that you are immune to my wrath the next time it arises." He was going to reemphasize the phrase next time - as in only the next time - but instead decided against it.

Cadence said nothing as they stepped through a sweeping archway leading to the long corridor toward the dorms, quietly contemplating her next question internally. With the lingering weight of it swirling about her mind, she turned to him. "Are we lovers, Iameth?"

"I'm offended that you've forgotten so quickly." He teased.

"You know what I mean." With a quick step she rounded in front of him, halting his forward progress. "Are we lovers?"

He eyed her suspiciously, unsure of where she was going with this. He'd always been careful with Cadence, never wanting to push her too far in a direction she didn't naturally turn toward. Because of this, he always viewed her as somewhat juvenile, though the question she asked, the look in her eye as she inquired, was as far from adolescent as could be. "So it would appear."

She mulled over his answer before stepping forward, her free hand coming to his chest and compelling him backward with a persistent saunter, pushing him into a shadowy niche just off to the side of the main hall. "How many others do you currently have?" She asked quietly.

He complied with her piloting stride, smoothly backpedaling until they were both securely within the alcove. "Only Ebonique, though even she has become more infrequent."

"And who else?" Her tone had descended into a husky sound as the hand that rode his chest dropped, gliding along the length of his torso and beyond until the gentle, warm span of her palm was filled with the swollen length of his clothed root. "There has to be more."

"There aren't." He assured her, his eyes narrowing with her caress of his impending girth.

She was breathing in his scent, the taste of him sending her tongue out to trace her lips. "You smell like smoke." She wistfully pleaded, eyes lingering upon his mouth before rising to dwell within his. "I know what I want as payment, Iameth." Fingers grazed along that turgid outline as she swayed forward, mouth scarcely finding his as she spoke. "Tell me you love me."

He indulged in her fleeting kiss, making no move to return the gesture. He said nothing in response to her cost, though, satisfied to stand before her in silence as the pulsating weight of his stalk filled her hand gradually with each passing moment.

She pulled back enough to look within his pale purple eyes, her head tilting to reveal an intimate nuance to her pretty features. "Awww, Iameth. That was sweet. Every douche-bag, jock, wanna-be on the planet has a worthless I love you standing by." Her heels fell to the floor, the sound erased by the gentle song hummed past her lips, and the other hand lowered to aid in the unfastening of his pants. "Thanks for not being one of them."

He leaned back against the rough stone of the wall as his sensual lips splayed. "But of course." His voice was low and hungry; the famine encouraged by her manipulation of his attire.

Her work was done quickly, leaving her slender hands occupied by his stout girth, lovingly stroked from base to tip. "Am I just another novice?" She asked, a sincere quality surrounding her voice as she poured downward with a sensuous camber of limbs and body, her gaze locked lustfully upon his throughout the determined descent.

Ashriel Iameth

Date: 2011-11-01 15:20 EST
Leaving the Satyrkiss lounge...Part two.



He watched her fade to her knees, his pupiless stare dimly igniting with a faint glow as it shifted between her eager eyes and her small hand which fought desperately to entrap his entire size. "You are far too unique to be just a number, Cadence...regardless of what we are speaking of."

He had a way with words, and to hear them as she handled the power of his tool intoxicated her senses. A sharp need bloomed from her belly and suddenly she craved him, needing that carnal connection once more. "Who were your last lovers." She whispered across the plume-shaped head of his cock as though it were a microphone. "I want their names." Enthralled by his nearness her mouth opened, gliding around the tip, assisted by her soft, pink tongue, before embarking down the length, slowly pushing him deep into her throat.

A measured inhale matched the pace of her consumption as fangs came together with the clenching of his jaw. Eyes lolled as she drew toward the base, managing the entirety of him without hinting at even a slight gag. The expanse of his chest widened with the stowed gasp, holding it momentarily before she started into motion.

It didn't take long, just enough time for her small throat to stretch and accommodate his size, before she was withdrawing to do it all again. Glistening with traces of her saliva, she watched as he emerged before her, freed of her lips briefly before devoured once more. A smooth pace was easily achieved, in and out of her mouth to the melodious accompaniment of her mewls and muddled moans.

"As a bard, I'm sure you've heard this more than once..." He said with a placid growl of arousal, his right hand dropping to rest lightly upon her head. "...but the things you can do with your mouth and tongue are outstanding."

Her aberrant giggle stemmed from the plunging stalk, crafting an erratic lilt amongst the debauchery. Reaching up through his legs she took him by the firm arch of his masculine backside and ushered him into swaying compliance, no longer the sole catalyst, she welcomingly encouraged the thrust of his hips.

Her carnal tempo was matched by the ever-graceful demon, his sinewy body writhing into serpentine motion. The hand lingering upon her head applied pressure, resistance for her to indulge in as he drove forth, all the while waging an eternal war to keep from clenching those flaxen locks within his painful grasp. Instead lips parted, her question answered. "Ebonique. Emilina. Elizabeth. Isabel."

The reciting of these names seemed to spur her onward, that fluid tempo quickening as lips tightened and throat slickened. Possessed, she collided with his swaying hips hungrily, pushing him as deep as he would go. Her hand dropped, soft palm filled with the heavy weight dangling beneath his assailing shaft, to squeeze and caress lovingly. He was tight. He was close.

With a whimpering cry she pulled away, gasping for air as legs unfurled and she stood straight up, leaving her little time to reconsider exactly what she was passing up with her departure.

Imbued with a dark passion he seized her face, framing her cheeks with lavender hands, claws scraping her flesh. Now it was his turn to conquer those lips as he pulled her forward, into him, and claimed them with his satiny mouth. Opening her gently, dual tongues were unleashed, entwining about hers desirously, working in sinful, flawless, unison.

Melting into his embrace she wrapped her hands around his neck, inebriated by the kiss. Lips parted, inviting those twin tendrils in as she surrendered her sole tongue to their dominance. She could feel his brandished length parading between them as bodies slid and clung, the subconscious grind of her hips covetously riding upon it. Before becoming too inundated by his sensual devotion she turned her head to the side, burning the touch of her lips along his cheek, pausing at his ear. "Promise me something." She whispered.

Her escape left his kiss to descend and the elegant column of her throat was discovered. Creamy flesh was sampled by lips and tongues, the graze of vicious fangs threatening to injure though never doing more than lightly scouring the skin. He continued to hold her close, the svelte contours of her body greedily constricted against hard, masculine lines, though her demand conjured a guttural chuckle as he slowly recoiled to take hold of her gaze. "What's that?" Laced within that simple inquiry was a lacerating aloofness. He may have asked, though he didn't seem to really care about the answer. Iameth wasn't fond of conceding to the will of others, no matter how minute the stipulation.

She didn't appear to mind his sardonic disinterest - so intoxicatingly aroused. "You'll never feed from me." She whispered against his pointed ear, the lobe lightly flicked with her tongue. "Ever."

He allowed her the tease of his ear as he considered her request, weighing the options carefully. Again, he handled Cadence delicately, never wanting to push her too far. "Ever implicates such a long time."

She pulled back quickly and found his gaze, bejeweled eyes percolating with desire. "Promise me." She reiterated, unable to keep the svelte writhe of her hips from rubbing his engorged length across the apex of her legs. "Your word."

Twin tongues emerged to moisten the bowed tiers of grinning lips, enamored with the sight of her lustful eyes. His strong frame remained a palpable component in the urgent grind of her body, ridges and cords of sinew used as the means to appease her undulating hips. "Fine." He agreed sharply. "My word." An infernal promise...as thin as air.
?No.? That singsong voice was infused with a stern intonation, resonating across her alluring features to impart glossy eyes and lavish lips . ?I want you to say it. Not hint at it. Not suggest it. I want you to say it.? Her hand came to rest lightly on his chest, fingertips kneading him through his thin shirt. ?Say that you?ll never feed from me.?
It wasn?t hard to see that this impeding vow from him lingered heavily upon her mind. Truth be told, he had no plans of feeding from her or any who were a part of Viperfang, yet that didn?t alleviate the sour notion of forsaking the idea. After all, things changed. After a tormenting moment of internal reflection he met her gaze and offered a small nod. ?Very well, Cadence. I?ll never feed from you.? Empty eyes narrowed suddenly, their lustful inlay tinted with hints of malice. ?Make sure the information you get out of Keric is worthy of such an assurance.?

The dazzling flash of a smile challenged his dangerous glare, his promise enough to dissolve her trepidation. She moved to embrace him but instead was met by coiling arms. He entrapped her within a hug and lifted her off the ground so that her toes were barely scraping the unforgiving stone of the alcove floor.

And suddenly, they were falling.

"Iameth!" She screamed, so startled that the need for silence unraveled from the sudden alarm, fearful of the impending impact with the cold, pitiless ground.

This fear never came to fruition, though, as she instead sank into a luxurious mattress bathed in silk sheets and a thick comforter.

With eyes as large as saucers she came up to her elbows, turning every which way, taking in the sight of the regal chamber they now occupied. It was darkly furnished, decorated with pictures along the walls - some demonic and others celestial, though all visions of war - and antique chairs and chaises fashionably scattered about; half edged and gothic, the rest sweeping and fluid. Along the far wall was a pair of closed double doors leading to a wide balcony, and not far away, near the center of the room, was a gilded bathtub sunk into the floor, the rim of it only an inch or so high. "This...this is your room." She surmised. She'd never actually been there before, but the apparent disparity of individuality gave hint to an inverse existence - much like the one he and Ashriel shared.

With a prowling stance upon all fours he looked down on her, the slash of his grin eternally sinful. "It is."

She laid back, face still flush with panic though starting to settle. "Is it true that Ashriel has started roaming around at night?"

Elbows bent, hips retreated, and his wicked visage lowered to the chasm carved between the swell of her breasts. Warm breath poured across her cleavage before a gentle kiss found their crest. "It is." He admitted. "It seems that Ashriel has figured out how to steal the twilight from me."

Her breath was instantly shallow, lips immediately parched. Her body thrummed beneath the torment of his torrid exhales and tender touches, causing legs to fall open, the inside of her thighs framing the outside of his. "How?" The question should have been more in-depth, but given the circumstance that was all she could manage.

"A good question, and one that you can hopefully help me answer." The point of his chin found the sweep of her neckline and with the tilt of his head he brought it downward, exposing more of those succulent globes. It was already plunging, which made this feat incredibly simple, and her lack of a bra allowed lips to rest upon the side of her naked breast, kissing softly upward along the curve.

"So you can keep him out of the darkness?" A breathy moan followed her words as her head rolled to one side.

"Not at all." The refute came in conjunction with the flick of twin tongues, pushing aside the veil of her vestment and exposing that delicious breast completely. The stiff nipple was instantly taunted by clenching lips. "So I can invade his light."

She gasped and curled upward, his head hugged tightly, ignoring the slash of those black horns as they abraded her clothing. She held him firmly against her breast as he suckled and lapped, fires of maddening passion igniting inside of her. "That's....not..." what I was expecting was supposed to have followed, though it never came.

He forced her back down, taking her by the arms and shoving her onto the lavish mattress. As he swam within those eyes of hers he arched a brow, devilish handsomeness cambering into an expression of pure impiety. "I need to eat."

That raw carnal awareness that raced through her like a surging storm overwhelmed the fear his announcement induced, her legs clenching around his hips and grinding the splayed junction of her thighs against his still naked cock. With the dress scrunched up around her hips, all that separated he and her was the satiny span of her damp panties. "You...you promised." She gasped at the subtle ignition that numbed her limbs.

"I promised I wouldn't feed, Cadence." He corrected as he recoiled, a slithering descent pouring his torrid frame downward between her legs. Arms hooked her behind the knee as shoulders cleared the spread of her thighs, the apex of her legs masking his striking features as he dipped between, save for his eyes, which peaked the nub of her cleft and stared hungrily at her. "...this is different."

As an example of his meaning lacy underthings were torn away, and lips and tongue were greedily administered.

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-01 22:38 EST
http://embed.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/cid/38946310/id/kobAjAIF4RGJcLOsG6TxEw/size/y.jpg

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-01 22:40 EST
Beneath the Blood-Red Tree, Part 1

The first hint of twilight emerged in the intensity of color in the sky, a vibrancy that saturated the foliage hovering just on the cusp of autumn, arousing a hyper-realistic mise en sc?ne for Shah gardens, where the Mage St. Clair lounged on a blanket spread beneath a blood-red tree, surrounded by a couple fellow enchantresses.?? Their laughter carried on the breeze as they concluded their picnic meal and lolled in pleasant idleness, finishing their wine without rush.? Cassidy leaned back on her elbows, feeling them sink into the fine linens covering the grass - and she stretched, lengthening her lean and still-tanned figure.? Dressed for a casual dinner - a pale orange sundress, perhaps too brief for fall's first chill, thus paired with a tailored cardigan - her hair was loose, tumbling in perfectly chaotic waves.? "Well," she chimed, her voice emerged from the conversation that she shared with the other girls, each syllable infused with easy laughter - "I would've never guessed Nil'aiha would have believed that!" ?Her eyes strayed upward, the flawless flesh of her youthful visage hued faintly pink by the canopy of rustling red leaves.? The other students, eager to scheme and gossip, responded in hushed voices, lost to the breeze.

Never would he have thought it possible, but Amadeus found himself missing his home, if only because it's climate was harshly colder than Rhy'Din's. He spent more and more of his days outside as the weather threatened to creep into Autumn's chill touch, relishing in the bit of respite from the otherwise too-warm and stifled air he had been subject to since his arrival. Some might have thought the gardens to be a strange choice, he seemed much more suited to gray and stone rather than the vibrant colors of the natural life that flowed beneath the dirt and grass, but curiosity and fascination with the new and mysterious were ever his two driving forces. The grass felt strange beneath his feet, softer than the dry blades that scratched and prickled his sensitive skin as a child. The colors drew his wide eyes with simple fixation, like a moth to a flame.? His first step into the gardens was heralded by the sound of feminine laughter and he paused, his muscles coiling with tension. The suspicion that he was being mocked did not linger, he could hear the picnic just out of sight. Perhaps it was on the other side of that great green plant ahead of him, he couldn't see. He crept forward, stepping toe to heel for fear of being overhead and accused of eavesdropping--which was exactly his intention. The large shrub was not a forgiving obstacle to pass, it pricked and scratched mercilessly as he attempted to silently crawl through it a bit of ways, hands and knees in the earthy dirt. He relished the smell of the natural world, it was so unlike the crisp air of his mountainous home.?

There was a small gap affording just enough space for him to view the picnic through from afar, he saw the red leafed tree and the picnic-goers all lounging beneath it, and jealousy reared its ugly head before he bit it down again and settled into his curious spying with as much comfort as the position would allow.? It was difficult decipher the words exchanged by the trio, for the spoke quickly and quietly, often over one another, and they giggled a great deal.? They spoke of romances and desires, mostly, with a dash of forbidden trysts, speculating on the private lives of many prominent students in the school.? Cassidy?s expression shifted from amusement, to curiosity, then to shock, never abandoning the stubbornly innocent delight that illuminated her gaze.??

After a couple of moments, she sat up, properly, prettily, and the other two girls grudgingly rose.? The pair seemed to offer an inquiry, to which Cassidy graciously declined, shaking her head and playfully gesturing them away.??

Before they departed, each leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to blond Mage's lips, and then they turned to quit the gardens, their path taking them precariously close to Amadeus's hiding place.? His breath caught in his throat as the pair passed him up. Fear quickly flooded away, replaced with relief when he was not immediately discovered. He sighed and shifted, attempting to twist around in his hiding place to exit from the way he came without being seen. He jumped with a start, however, when he realized his ankle had been caught in a thorn covered vine that seemed to tighten its grip when he tried to pull. A hiss of pain blew past his lips and he tossed a glance outward at Cassidy, fearing she may have heard him. He hastily sat up and reached down to pry the vine away.?

When the vine relinquished its grip (which it seemed most reluctant to do) Amadeus scrambled back and fell out from the prickly overgrowth and into the grass with a rather heavy thud.?

With his wits returned, he realized, to his horror, that he had come out on the wrong side of the shrub and when his neck craned to look, he could see Cassidy still beneath the red leafed tree where her friends had left her just moments before. He decided his best course was to lie perfectly still, perhaps he would turn invisible if he thought really hard about it. Half of magic was willpower after all, right?

But already, her laughter was upon his ears, no inspiration evident other than his own mischief.? With loose and leisurely grace she stood, quickly closing in on his prone form.? The novice close his eyes tight against the sound. When he heard her approaching his mind raced.

What would his excuse be? Studying? Preposterous! He couldn't read in those shrubs!?

The enchantress paused, peering with great glee down upon him.? ?"Amadeus," came the mock scold, the smile eliminating any question of gravity. "Have you been playing drinking games again?"

He opened a single blue eye to gaze up and upside down at her. "Wh-?' red flamed on his pale cheeks. "N-no! Of course not, I-I-I just fell, that's all."

The ghost of contrived concern flickered over those pretty features, the delight perpetually warming her gaze, ?Out of the bush?? My, the administration is certainly getting stingy with rooms, aren?t they??? And with charming sincerity, she offered a delicately-boned hand, slender and perfectly-formed for casting.? ?Would you like to join me??

?"I have a room," he replied swiftly. "It's just...very warm, I don't like it," his other eye opened and he studied her hand and chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "What are you doing?" ? His own dirt covered hand slapped against his leg to dry and dispel it of some of the grime that clung to his skin before reaching up to accept hers--no sense in getting that pretty skin dirty--and then he twisted and rose to his feet.

Her touch was brief, and given her petite build, more ceremonial than an actual assistance.? Once he was on his feet, she turned and began drifting back to the blanket, her movements innately, easily sensual - glancing back over her shoulder, her fine chin nodded for him to follow.? "I was having a picnic with some friends, but they just left."? A pause, he could sense her unspoken amusement, "Perhaps you saw them leaving."? Lowering her knees on the plush ground, she tucked her long legs to the side and resumed her perch upon the blanket.??
The red touch of embarrassment threatened to creep onto his cheeks again, but he swallowed it back and managed to display a shrug that was almost nonchalant. "I don't think I did," Amadeus said as she took her seat beneath the red leafed tree.

"Would you like some wine?" she asked - sweetly, unassuming, hopeful.

He dropped opposite her in a rather unceremonious display of long, boney limbs and peered over his raised knees suspiciously. "I suppose."

There was something unaffected about her - an endless delight and self-satisfaction: a sense of contentment that made her seem, unlike many of the students he may have encountered, perfectly accepting and unmanipulative.? Though she studied him as he pondered her offer, it was an uncritical eye turned in his direction, an appreciation for his display of various emotions.? When he finally agreed, she gracefully collected the bottle, but, oh - distress, there were no spare glasses.? With a terribly cute pout overtaking her lips, she finally shrugged and refilled her own glass, offering it to him with an abashed smile.? "I forgot extra glasses.? Take mine."

?"No, I couldn't," he denied quickly, hands lifting as though she were brandishing the glass like a weapon.? After he had deduced that she would not be immediately springing into action to do something horrible to him, Amadeus let his gaze turn away so he could tug the heavy and thick strap of his pack overhead and let the canvas container lay flat beside him. "And I'm not kissing your feet again."

"Oh, was it so bad?" she responded with the ring of delight, ?"You were -- you were my savior in that game!? I'll be forever grateful."

For all his suspicion and unease, he could not help the flickering smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth when she spoke again, the sound of her sweetly innocent amusement did wonders to take the edge off. "Well, not bad. Just...well, would you ever kiss someone's feet?"?

In a moment of intrigued surprise, she pondered the question.? Then, resolutely, her blonde head nodded. Her fragile hand still extended and offered the glass of red wine - deeper than the leaves above, the gold of the setting sun bestowing an otherworldly, angelic glow upon the mage.

His eyes narrowed curiously--the gaze did not carry the weight of his usual suspicion, but was critical in its observations of the subtle movements of her body as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he relented and reached out with too-long fingers to accept the glass of red wine. "I don't believe you."

Cassidy leaned back again on her elbows, her loafing posture concluding in a cross of her dainty ankles - right above bare feet.? Acknowledging his skepticism with a contemplative purse of her ample lips, she finally responded: "I don't see why I wouldn't.? And probably better to kiss a woman's feet than a man's."? She wrinkled her nose playfully, "Although, if the situation seemed to call for it..." she trailed off, her thoughts wandering into perfectly obscene territory. ?"But anyway," she disrupted her own reverie, a faintly excited blush pinking her cheeks.? "Like I said, I'm terribly thankful for your, uh, gesture.? Otherwise, I would've had to drown myself in liquor..."

"Better that you didn't have to," he said after taking a drink of the dark red liquid. "I do not trust a lot of them, the people who were there that night. Bad, dark things radiate. Ill intent and arrogance," he spoke quickly, his voice dropped to a whisper, as though fearing they would be overheard. He leaned over his knees to peer at this pretty, sensual woman who lounged so comfortably before him. "It is dangerous to lose ones wits in the company of those who are so...? He paused.?"The words of would-be friends are the words that will undo the unwary and destroy all the work put forth; power and greed drive so many, and they will use and abuse any who unwittingly allows them," he finished with a definitive nod. His gaze lowered to study the drink in his hand.??

Cassidy?s cheer faltered faintly in confusion for two, perhaps three heartbeats, then was again upset by the brave and unyielding smile. ?Oh, they?re not so bad,? she chimed softly, ?They just want so badly to succeed.?? The beautiful bones of her almost-bare shoulders curled slightly in what seemed to be a half-shrug.? Quietly serene until he looked up from his drink, her eyes captured his, compelling his intrigue with the ease of her certainty; even the most careful assessment would reveal simple authenticity, perhaps a form of denial: life was easy and pleasant for Cassidy, she often chose not to acknowledge the darkness so prevalent among their peers. ?I?m sure they don?t mean any harm - it was all in fun.?

"Fun can be a perverse thing when not carefully schooled," he muttered darkly before taking another taste of wine into his mouth. He smiled though, it was hard not to in the face of her insistent innocence. "Did you enjoy your picnic? Were your friends well? And what did they invite you to?" he paused, a look of horror flashing in his gaze when he caught the slip and he quickly averted his gaze in hopes that it had passed over her head.?

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-01 22:43 EST
Beneath the Blood-Red Tree, Part 2


Perhaps she caught his slip - perhaps she had known of his presence all along, perhaps she had played along out of sheer graciousness, allowing him the dignity of his fabrication.??

Perhaps.?

?Or perhaps it simply passed her by.??

"Oh, it was lovely.? But they had to go study for ascension, and since I'm not up this round, I thought it would be nicer to stay out here."? Tossing that smile again in his direction.? "And I'm glad I did.? What about you?? Getting settled in?"

Amadeus?s slender shoulder rose and fell half-heartedly, and he carefully tried another sip of the wine before leaning to gently place the vessel on the unstable surface of the blanket-covered grass. He tucked his legs up to his chest and looped his arms around boney knees. His chin came to rest on the tip of one knee and he squinted across the short space between them. "I suppose. Albion, my roommate, doesn't seem too bothered by my presence, though he was quite surprised to see me. My classes are going relatively well for my lack of experience, things could be considerably worse."

?As she tilted her head in interest, a few fingers of wind filtered through her golden locks, honey-colored and shining the in the rapidly waning light of the setting sun.? ?That sounds far from horrible!? she responded with enthusiastic benevolence, her dark eyes half-reflecting his casually-arranged form.? ?My novice year was -- well, I had fun, but I almost failed out.?? The smile accordingly turned a bit abashed.? ?Too many romantic interests,? came the sweet confession, a shy set of lashes concealing her gaze momentarily, before they darted up, a coy and energetic challenge: ?What about you?? Any girls caught your fancy yet??
?
"Girls?" he chuckled quietly and shook his head. "No, none. I haven't had much of a chance to do much socially, except for an occasional trip to the Isle and a night or two at the Red Dragon," a thin hand gestured absently into the air. "I spend most of my time studying.? But I suppose you are not half as unfortunate as I," he added, smiling. "How many fall at your feet for your attention?"

?A shame,? she chimed upon her own laughter, the mentioned feet drawing back, bending slender legs near her chest - it is a seductively shy posture, albeit one that allowed the hem of her sundress to lift precariously along her thighs, exposing the majority of the lengthy stretch of legs.? The whisper is plenty friendly, a simple point, bereft of darkness or manipulation, a simple fact that is -- well, simple.? ?Tonight??? The warm of her gaze burns harmless upon him, ?Only one.?

It was immensely difficult for him to keep his gaze chaste. Impossible, is a better word. His eyes darted to watch her move, keenly aware of the tantalizing display of skin the hem of her dress allowed. He cleared his throat and looked up, a dark brow quirking up. "Only one? Who?"?
In grand amusement, her head rolled back slightly, allowing a rich blond mane to fall between her shoulder-blades, nearly reaching to the blanket; meanwhile, the shadows of the coming dusk coiled in the hollows of her delicate collarbone, the small space between the ample curves of her cleavage.? ?Who?? she repeated, her tongue making the question quite beautiful.? ?Well, let?s see...he has blue eyes, I think...? she peered a bit closer, the dark lashes narrowing around her earthy eyes, ?...and dark hair.? He?s thin, but there?s something wonderfully mysterious about him.? He's really rather cute."

?A nervous chuckle escaped him, he chewed on his lip. He hunkered down, sinking onto himself to hide behind his legs and arms so that only the very blue eyes she spoke of was visible. The red that touched his cheeks was hidden, but threatened to creep up to his ears. "That's not fair," he muttered, the sound muffled against his pants as he eyed her with a mixture of innocent fascination and a touch of lust.? "...Wonderfully mysterious?" he couldn't help asking.

Eased by the encroaching shadows, the enchantresses lay back onto the blankets, her head turned to peer at him, her legs still bent - the pair of sleek thighs locked demurely together as they lowered to the linens, twisting the sleek lines of her torso and exposing just a hint of her lacy panties.? ?What?s not fair?? she purred prettily, her smile relentless and welcoming.

He hunkered down further until he could no longer see her, mumbling into his legs. "I'm not good at this, you obviously are," carefully, his head poked up to eye her. "You're cheating, same way you did at the Red Dragon the other night.? You're deliberately trying to make me nervous. Why?"

If anything, his accusation seemed to distress her, and the smile fled from her angelic features, replaced with a terribly compelling plea.? ?Oh, Amadeus,? his name, of course, was a powerfully soothing sound when spoken in her soft voice, ?I would never try to upset you.?? Lithe abs curled, lifting her shoulders so that she again rested on her elbows - but then she extended an arm, her fingers a whispery touch against his nearest shoe.? ?I simply like you, is all.? I appreciate what you did in the Inn.? In fact," she continues, "I haven't properly repaid your kindness."

It was hard to argue against her words, he tilted his head and slowly began to unwind from his coiled state. A tiny smile flickered across his lips. "I didn't mean any offense," he replied in lieu of an apology. The thought of compensation for his aid made him perk up attentively, leaning forward to watch her carefully. "I forgot our agreement," but only when they sat down under the tree, of course. "Tutoring, wasn't it?"

His ease seemed to rekindle her joy, and the smile again settled upon her plump lips.? ?Yes, tutoring!? I?ll tutor you in anything you?d like. Or,? she offered, the most delightfully-innocent deviousness shining in her eyes, ?I could kiss your feet.?? She paused, letting the idea settle.? It was getting dark, rapidly, though their eyes adjusted with the gradual decline of light. ?But only if you wanted it.?

He chuckled quietly and shook his head. "No, I would not ask something so degrading of you. It would be a crime to taint...your lips," he cleared his throat again and stretched out those long limbs of his. "I'm not sure what would be best, I haven't chosen a discipline yet."

?Drawn by genuine curiosity, she sat upright, the shadows concealing the details of her expression, but by now he could picture it - pleasant, eager.? ?I?d offer any help I could, but why would kissing your feet be degrading?? If it brought you joy, and I as well, where would be the harm??? It was no argument, but a genuine inquiry into a departure from her typical philosophy.

"Well, think about it. It's a sign of servitude, of obedience. People who believe themselves superior demand this sign of fealty. And how would it bring you joy? You like kissing feet?" he chuckled again, the sound curious with amusement. "You are a strange person," he paused to consider a thought as he watched her, hoping to glean some information from her expression through the deepening shadows. "It is good, though."

"Oh Amadeus," she sighed pleasantly, tossing her blond tresses over her shoulder and crawling toward him, surrendering the loosely-seductive advance when she met his side, where there she simply sat, the edge of her shoulder pressed lightly to his.? This close, he could breathe her faintly scented skin - clean and fresh, faintly floral, utterly feminine.? ?It doesn?t have to be like that, so drenched in conflict.? It can simply be --? she paused, searching for the proper word.? ?--fun.? If I trust you, and you I - why would you need to worry about obedience and old meanings?"

Once more the muscles in his body coiled tightly, tensing as he felt her come into contact with him. The action was entirely unconscious, but he leaned toward her ever-so-slightly and breathed in.? He took not only a breath of her scent but also her inherent warmth, intensifying - perhaps because of a guilty blush, disguised by the fall of evening.? Another smile touched his lips and he watched her with only a faint inkling of suspicion out of the corner of his eye. "Fun? What do you do for fun?"

Sensing his skepticism, she was reluctant to fully divulge the true nature of her extracurricular interests, for she feared his judgement and revulsion.? Thus, she spoke carefully, seeming - perhaps for the first time - a bit shy, as if their roles were suddenly reversed.? ?Oh, I spend time with friends, like this picnic tonight.? Or -- I, well, I just enjoy people?s company.???

?"Oh, well, that doesn't sound so bad," once more the tension flooded from his body and he relaxed, his head tilting to the side to alight the full attention of his gaze upon her half-shadowed form. "I haven't had much of a chance for that, I think it would be nice."? He licked his lips as his eyes widened, only fully registering how close she was to him. "So...what do you do when enjoying someone's company? Talk about things? I don't know a whole lot, I'm not sure how entertaining I can be.? I will try my best."

?Talking is one thing, of course,? she responded silkily, a girlish giggle tucked into the syllables. ?But there are other things, too.?? A meager lean had her lips, pink and pouting? with lingering curve of her words, very close to his.? Her breath caressed his mouth, trembling with the rush of her boldness, wary of his reaction.

"Other things?" he could smell her breath, almost taste her lips. His fingers tapped nervously as he felt her lean closer, his eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he breathed in sharply. When he peeked out at her again she was still close, and he noticed how very little space he would need to close to kiss those perfect lips. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could have sworn there was a breeze and that it was the cause for his own lean in her direction. It was the breeze's fault, not his, that his mouth touched hers.??And the enchantress?s lips were as sweet to kiss as they were to behold - soft, pliant, tasting like a touch of warm sugar.? Cassidy dared not indulge the desires shivering along her bronzed flesh, restraining curious hands to the lightest touch upon his stately shoulders.? If her lips parted, it was only the tip of her velvet tongue that trailed along his lips, before she ever-so-gently broke the kiss with a contented sigh and a whisper. ?

?Things like that.? Good things."

When she parted from him, he was left with an odd sort of emptiness, a longing he had little understanding of left in the absence of her lips. Slowly, he smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching as his fingers resumed their nervous tapping against his knees. "Good things," he repeated quietly, his chin dipping in an agreeable nod.?

The novice?s fingers were arrested by her gentle grip, and with only the most tender nudging, she urged him to unwrap his sleek arms from around his knees - his legs, to instead extend or cross upon the ground - with a gentle lean and the suggestion of her graceful arms she attempted to disengage that ever-so-defensive posture. He was entirely malleable to her guidance, offering no resistance and slowly uncoiled from his withdrawn state.? ?Not everyone here is so vicious,? she purred prettily, her warm visage almost entirely cloaked in darkness, made mild by a nearly-full moon, filtering in leaf-patterns through the tree above.? ?

"Not everyone," he mused curiously, stretching his legs out. "I have seen little proof of that, with one exception."

With his posture shifting to her liking, Cassidy arranged her own sinfully-stretching limbs into a luxurious recline, settling her head in his lap, allowing the silk-spun tumbles of her golden tresses to splay along his thighs.? Eyes, inky in the lack of light, licked across his curious features, darting between his countenance and the moon through the leaves.? If anything, she seemed perfectly blissful, absolutely relaxed.?? "What exception is that?"
His smile slowly grew until it stretched full across his lips as he looked down upon her shadowed visage. Her change in posture elicited little outside response, but his body mimicked hers, muscle relaxing as he settled back to lean on his hands. "You do not appear to be near as viscous as the others. As far as I can tell, you're much more pleasant and sweet."

?Thank you,? she responded quietly, genuinely pleased by his praise.? Another agreeable sigh passed the inviting part of her lips, the type of languid, deep draw of breath that hints at the first vestiges of fatigue.? Lashes fluttered across her gaze several times, her head shifting slightly in his lap.? ?It?s such a beautiful night.? Probably one of the last.? Wouldn?t it be lovely to sleep out here, beneath the moon and the red leaves??

"It might get cold, your dress doesn't look very warm," the cold did not bother him, but as his eyes glanced over her form, drawn to her legs, he thought perhaps she might catch a chill. "But it would be nice. I have not slept outside in a long time."

Slender legs shifted seductively against one another, her knees bending slightly, as if she sensed his gaze upon them.? Even while the skirt slipped again indecently up her thighs, idle hands rested on the flat surface of her stomach, behaving there in a prim fold of fingers.? Her eyes sought his face, fixing for a moment on the lips she could still taste upon her own.? When she finally responded, there was a renewed enthusiasm and vague timidness in her tones - ?I don?t think I?d get cold, if you stayed.?

He licked his lips and regretfully tore his gaze away from the tantalizing sight of her legs as inch by inch, more of their beauty revealed itself. Her words were answered first by a long pause, during which he stared down at her with a worried line creasing his brows together. "No, you probably wouldn't."

?Will you?? she whispered, her wide and infinitely warm eyes meeting his concerned stare.? ?Will you sleep out here with me and keep me warm??? As if on cue, a chilly breeze caught the limbs above, plucking vibrant leaves from their branches and lifting a chorus of soothing rustling.? His frowning thought did not last; her smile was infectious and he could not deny his lips will to mirror hers.?

"Alright. I like the cold anyways," he nodded slowly as he shifted his weight to one hand so the other could carefully reach out to touch the golden hair that surrounded her head.?

His concession had her lips stretching the perpetual smile farther, one hand lifting from her torso to brush the faintest touch along his jaw.? ?Oh, thank you, Amadeus,? she murmured sleepily, her voice a veritable collection of purrs as she relished the caress of his fingers through her soft locks.

***

The following morning, Amadeus awoke alone, to a sun at mid-morning height, shining pink through the blood-red leaves.? The blanket still served as a comfortable couch, and the enchantress?s faint, lingering perfume mixed with the smell of autumn earth and sky. ?

Wind rushed through the tree above, scattering a fluttering array of crimson upon him.

Kassandra

Date: 2011-11-02 09:33 EST
Common Room

The whispers had begun early today; cruel, unthinking taunts that were murmured behind her back, into her ear, hidden beneath mocking laughter as she passed through the halls of the school. Kassandra had yet to make even one friend here; though she was close to her mentor, she believed Cassidy too busy with studies and other pursuits to have the time to extend what little protection the friendship of a mage might offer over the seer.

While it was true that there was some envy in the urge to torment - some coveted her place as a Ward of the Institute - it seemed to be simply the usual urge whenever a group of people gathered together in a herd. The perceived weakest would always be the butt of jokes, the outsider looking in. They did not see her constant distraction as anything but that weakness, and she did not seek to tell them otherwise. She did not think it would win her any allies at all if it became widely known that Kassandra of Delphi could See what others tried to hide.

"Ah, if it isn't the newest favorite ..."

Kassandra winced where she sat before the fire, hugging her books tightly to her chest. Jolie, the consummate predator, had found the perfect prey. The Grecian girl was unlikely to ever even hint at the tormenting thrown her way by the cruelty of this vampire. Still, she could not help wishing she had allowed Alesti, her familiar, to come with her today. People did not seem so eager to approach with unpleasantries when the lioness lounged at her side.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" The words snapped out, slicing through the usual jumble of thoughts and emotions crowding Kassandra's mind to earth themselves deep in her nervous, edgy sense of fear. The seer jumped, turning wide, uncertain eyes upward to where the vampire stood over her.

Jolie's smile was a snarl in hiding, making no effort to hide the sharp prick of her fangs, nor the pointed danger of her nails as she dragged just one down the gentle curve of Kassandra's cheek. "You've been avoiding our little chats together, little mind-leech," the school's resident b*tch hissed, utterly uncaring if anyone else in the common room heard what was said. "You need to be taught a lesson in obedience."

Without warning, her hand turned, nails cutting deep into Kassandra's shoulder, drawing blood that brought her own bloodlust to the fore. As the seer whimpered in pain, huddling ever closer to herself in fear of her fellow student, no one moved to intervene. She had no allies, no friends, to fight on her behalf. Kassandra was the perfect choice for Jolie to play with.

A cold hand grasped her hair, ripping her head back to let the scent of that sweet, untasted blood circulate, drawing a longing snarl from Jolie's throat. She had been warned, too many times, and yet ... here was a living food source that could be tapped without fear. Not in public, of course.

"You're not worth it."

Kassandra's lip split against her knee as her head was roughly thrown forward, keeping herself curled tight, closing her eyes in case even the slightest hint of defiance should shine through and earn her something worse than this warning. She could see the passions riding through the retreating vampire, the desire to taste her blood, to make her nothing more than a walking meal, and some unknown spark of strength brought forth the intention to go nowhere from now on without Alesti in tow.

Blood seeped through her shirt, darkening the white fabric with the sickly metallic copper of life. There was a snort of derision from across the common room, from one of the many non-human students. "Come on," he told his companions in the wake of Jolie's departure. "The stench of cowardice in here is nauseating."

Kassandra curled tighter in on herself, listening to the sounds of the common room emptying, all those who had been within now leaving her to her misery and pain before the flickering flames. The relief of their mind senses retreating from her own should have been something welcomed ... but no. In that moment, the seer would have given anything in her power just to know she had a friend.

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-02 20:08 EST
Chamber Ivetiam

?How did you get in here?? the vampire hissed, her initial surprise swiftly hidden by the snarl of her words.

Cassidy?s shoulders, veiled by the luxury of her loose tresses, lifted in an angelic shrug, and despite her unintentional host?s less-than-friendly welcome, a comely smile spread across her lips. Long legs crossed casually, her fingers appreciatively tracing the dark purple satin of Jolie?s sheets.

?I would?ve pegged you for a coffin kinda girl,? she remarked pleasantly.

?How did you get in here?? the novice repeated, wise enough not to physically mimic the aggression darkening her voice as she faced the much-senior student. In response, the enchantress rose from the bed, advancing a couple of steps, her mien relentlessly affectionate.

?Oh! Funny story, actually. Veles, your roommate, let me in.? Her eyes widened to emphasize the delightful serendipity of the situation she detailed: ?Apparently, he knows my little brother.?

Cassidy concluded her approach less than a foot away from the notoriously vicious vampire, oblivious to Jolie?s murderous expression. From there, she closed the remaining distance between them by gently placing her hands upon her bloodless shoulders. Upon this objectionable contact, Jolie attempted a viperish recoil, but found, quiet unexpectedly, that her body refused to acknowledge her mind?s commands. Toes, fingers, even tongue, seemed entirely disconnected from the consciousness that suddenly exploded into a panicked raged behind the wall of her inert, bodily prison.

?We need to talk, Jolie,? Cassidy admitted, her smile strangely sympathetic, her voice and gaze impressing a powerfully persuasive charm. ?I heard that you were troubling my dear Kassandra this morning.? She paused, her head tilting faintly, her eyes -darkly illuminated as they were, smoldering with the potency of her spell- maintaining their hold. ?I understand the stress you must be under, always surrounded by such delicious beauty, and she must have seemed irresistible. I mean, to take such a risk, when you?re already on the verge of being expelled!? Her laughter was gentle, affectionate. ?Believe it or not, I completely understand how tempting she can be.?

The vampire?s inner rage, succumbing to the influence of the Mage?s persuasion, had almost entirely dispersed, replaced with an absorbing vacancy.

?But you see, I?m very fond of her as well, and I can?t allow you to behave in this manner.? The mage?s focus intensified, the smile draining from her lips. ?So, from this point on, when you see her, you will inquire upon her welfare, wish her well, and depart - harming her in no way whatsoever.?

Absolute silence and stillness crowded Chamber Ivetiam in the wake of the command.

Finally, Cassidy?s brightness returned, lashes fluttering away the intensity of her gaze. ?So we?re cool??

Cassidy pressed her lips to the vampire?s, quickly, as if sealing an agreement, and then she answered her own question. ?Oh course we are. You?re such a wonderful listener, Jolie.?

The mage breezed by the still figure, toward the door. Before she exited, she paused to remark to the girl?s immobile back: ?That?ll wear off soon, but you?ll probably want a little nap. Lucky thing you?ve got that lovely bed right in front of you.?

And, with that, Cassidy vanished through the chamber door.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2011-11-05 12:25 EST
Anise Wing - Dawn

After a month away, spent in near constant fear of her life, Callisto was having a little difficulty settling back into the routine of the school. Oh, she was glad to be home again, of course, easing herself once more into the intrigues and machinations of SatyrKiss, her carefully carved position of confidente to the major players. But there was always the silence of her rooms after they had left her once again, a silence she was utterly unaccustomed to. Mistress Tul'Nor had been right when she had warned of consequences - the aching emptiness that tore at Callisto's soul was proof enough of that.

As a matter of course, she had already been visited by Veronique, by Emilina, by Gina and Tutori and others who regarded her as their own personal confessor. She had even taken the time to offer up a report of her activities to the one she would never admit to owing loyalty, though this of course had not been done in person. The Vaden, while irritating and self-important to a degree, were difficult to corrupt, making them ideal messengers.

But now, in the silence of her rooms, her studies set aside for now, she felt lost. The forgiving anchor of unconditional affection that had been the constant presence of Mort and Vitae in her life for almost six years was gone. Yet everywhere she looked within her own rooms, there was a reminder of them ... the favoured places where they would perch to watch her going about her business, the clawed marks on her bedframe where they had been wont to sleep. And each reminder brought the loss back into startling, painful reality, knocking the confidence from her as she fought not to give into the grief.

She lay curled upon her bed now, a dishevelled shadow of herself in this private place, her face streaked with tears she would never allow to fall beyond the boundaries of this room. The sheets were crumpled around her twisted form, evidence of a sleepless night spent in nightmares and grief unanswered. Once, in a former House, she would have gone hopefully to her Overseer, seeking the healing of her heart and soul that one half of his tormented being could bring. Now, she had no such option open to her, left to tangle through the raging emotions that buffeted her back and forth whenever the quiet became too much.

Such was her distress in this time that her wards had weakened to admit one who could find the chinks in any armor. Tutori stood in the shadows beside her covered windows, staring at the shell of the young mage in disbelief. Never had he ever seen Callisto in any fashion but perfectly balanced, exquisitely turned out, always assured of her own ability and confidence. To see her like this ... it was a shock, certainly, and a relief to discover that she was not so in-human as she sometimes appeared.

Yet she was a member of his House; she had heard his confession many times in the past, and he had never known her to act upon anything he had said, to share any of his secrets. This dark night of her soul would continue on, he knew, but perhaps there was something he could do to relieve just a little of the darkness in this moment. He slipped from the shadows, dropping his cloak over the polished back of an ornate chair before kneeling on the bed behind her.

Callisto jumped, startled to find herself no longer alone, hurriedly raising her hands to hide the ravages of tears on her face, to try and compose herself before she offered a glimpse of her expression to whomever had entered. But before she could do this, a long male body had lain himself down at her back, drawing his arms around her fragile form to pull her into an embrace that spoke as much of protection as of concern.

"Be calm, Callisto," Tutori murmured against her ear, the muted tone of his celestial voice smoothing through her fractious nerves, easing the pain just a little as she hid her face from him still. "The pain will pass through you. You will be stronger than ever when the time comes."

A sob escaped her muffling hands, a gentle twist of her body bringing her weeping face to press into his shoulder as his arms tightened around her. Oh, what power was here. The ever-calm, ever-perfect Callisto Fairbourne, crying like child in the arms of Tutori Silvesta. Yet this was also her power; for years she had listened without judgement, given advice that proved true, taken his secrets and held them hidden when no one else would. For these seeming kindnesses and more, he would never betray these moments to another soul, living or dead.

He lay there with her for what seemed an eternity, the ancient accent of his calming voice a smooth cadence that washed through her torment, giving her leave to feel and pass through those emotions for now, to cry until there was nothing left to cry. And finally, to sleep, curled tightly in the arms of a mage whose closeness to both the Overseer and her rival might yet spell the end of Callisto's career in SatyrKiss, should this episode become known.

Elizabeth

Date: 2011-11-06 09:00 EST
{The Roof Listeria Wing}

She had no desire to deal with the madness that was her roommates. Gina never failed to get on her last nerve and the immortal Carpathian had no time for the Satyrkiss Overseer. The ice was a welcome thing in fact. She was not cowed by that icy demeanor and being what she was made it all that much harder to attempt to ruin her.

Mercedes was a wreck and she had no desire to deal with the apprentice in any fashion. The girl stank of misfired magics and was too wrapped up in her own cares. Rumors had filtered through the school of how the apprentice back-stabbed her best friend, a student of higher rank than she.

Ambition, betrayal... Facts of life in this place. Facts she could deal with. They were consistent sometimes blatant, but it was... honest. She knew where she stood with these 3 and left it at that.

She also knew she had no place in anyone's affections. Even Iameth had been taken with another morsel and she could not find it in herself to be jealous. Resigned, yes... Jealous, no. She knew it was coming.

And he was not her lifemate, so there had been no hopes there. A pleasant diversion, nothing more. It bothered her more that she wasn't good enough to hold ones attention, but she supposed that was her own inexperience.

Tonight was distressing for the own reason that she had to influence the mind of an innocent in order to save the girl and protect another. That was not something she did lightly and it soured the pleasure of being able to talk with another openly. She craved the comradery that she saw in the others. When she thought she had found that, it turned to dust.

Nothing in the events of the night was malicious or even intentional, save her own actions. Yet, there was a feeling of dread that accompanied it. Should anyone have been harmed there was guaranteed to be consequences.

If nothing else, she had discovered that she had the power to undo the Siren's song... in at least the untrained.

Chika Kokuri

Date: 2011-11-06 19:37 EST
Teas 'n Tomes

The curt introduction to Amadeus had ended with a threatening promise to see him succeed. After all, it would not do to have her status diminished because she had failed as a mentor.

It had been a week since her abrupt introduction and even more abrupt departure from his life and it seemed time to check in on him. Her displeasure mounted as she was forced to enter the cozy confines of the TeasnTomes.

Confines made cozier by a comfortable arrangement of IAP students enjoying each other?s company. She arrived just in time to overhear Albion cheerfully invite Amadeus back to their rooms to look over their wands together.

The sinuous whisper of derisiveness scorched the air as she asked, "Are you two dorks really discussing a date to look at each other's...wands?"

Her nearly silent arrival startled Amadeus into spilling his coffee down his shirt. The hot liquid drew a yelp from him as Albion blinked in consternation at her.

Her amusement over his plight was distracted by the meek air of the drowess who was departing with Amadeus even as she arrived. Aiding in this discomfort was the gaze of the elf coursing over her and she barely resisted the urge to depart immediately. She and Ilyona had an unspoken agreement of avoidance since the ViperFang Masquerade. Perhaps more annoyed by her presence she was quick to allow her utter disdain for the drowess Alyithra to hold reign upon her features.

Albion quickly finished his departing words to Alyithra, "Aluve." before he responded to her insult: "We weren't making dates to look at each other's wands." He quickly corrected. "I was inviting Amadeus to look at mine."

Chika didn?t need to say anything to that. Her look clearly conveyed her response. The lift of one thin brow threatened to wreak despair and havoc as she realized Amadeus was departing with the drowess who had earned her enmity for doing nothing other than being there in that moment. "Leaving?"

"Yes, I'm going to study," he explained, nodding quickly, seemingly oblivious to the implications of Chika's and Albion's discussion.

"Good." Curtly. A lingering look sent over Amadeus that had the benefit of being both dismissive and violatingly hungry. "You'll do well in your studies." There was a hint of a threat in those words and that look. It would not do well for the young novice to discredit her as a mentor. Even if she did nothing other than follow him around, appearing in odd moments to glare in violent offense at him.

Amadeus wisely said nothing to her and instead quickly followed after Alyithra as she made her departure: "I'll show you the way!"

She followed the nervous young man with those threatening eyes and made a mental note to see how he was progressing in his classes.

As Albion invited her to join them she resisted the urge to gut him out of sheer annoyance. Between one moment and the next she was simply gone leaving he and Ilyona behind.

(Thank you to everyone involved in the scene--altered slightly to be from Chika's point of view)

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-11-07 09:44 EST
There was an underlining precision in the way Albion organized and distilled the elixir, his eyes, shimmering pools of emerald, focused fully upon the variation of ingredients needed to concoct the desired result. It wasn't the first time he'd blended the Primrose potion, as the same feat had been required of him during his novitiate year, though that was for a much different reason.

At that time he had made it for a grade. Now, it was for a friend.

Alaric sought to repel an Unseelie Fae from his midst and had come to Albion seeking instruction on how to do so. The conversation had been lively at the Teas'n Tomes and the Transmuter enjoyed the debate it stemmed, though it was obvious from the start that Alaric would need a multiplicity of support in order to accomplish everything he needed to. Albion didn't mind. It's what he did.

While not exactly hard to ferment, the potion was difficult in the sense that Primrose not only repelled the Fae but could be used to empower the Unseelie if done incorrectly. If a dash was used when just a pinch was needed, the entire brew could have a reverse effect, and that wouldn't help Alaric whatsoever. That's why Albion decided to wake up early and make his way to Shadul's laboratory, permission from the Master of Alchemy acquired in advance, so that he could personally make sure that amalgamation of ingredients was administered with absolute exactitude.

"Up early, Sepherock."

The reptilian inflection encompassing the words revealed to Albion whom it was lurking behind, requiring of him no need to turn and look. "Good morning, Alaion." He said evenly, fingers tightening about the vial he held. Master Ariath's familiar, a massive python, was notorious for meddling with students, constantly seeking new ways to interfere with and disrupt their projects. Albion didn't normally mind as he was normally astute enough to recognize the disorder before it could occur, though with the importance of this potion and what it meant to Alaric, he found himself a bit more cautious than usual.

The diamond shaped head of the python appeared over the sharp horizon of Albion's right shoulder, peering down at the work he accomplished with looming interest. "What is this?" Alaion hissed, the flicker of his long, thin tongue ushering each word. "Primrose?"

"Indeed it is." Subconsciously Albion swiveled a bit, ignoring the shudder spurred from Alaion's sudden nearness and putting more of his lean frame between the Python and the elixir.

"Why?" The question was sharp, that hissing tenor now over the left shoulder.

Albion shifted again, once more attempting to shield the potion. There was a dubious distinction in the Python's voice and instantly he understood why; after all, Primrose was used to repel the Fae and Shadul was an elf. Naturally there would be cause for concern. "Because..."The word quivered from dry lips as Albion's gaze locked upon the rim of the vial. Of the Transmuter's vast array of skills, deception really wasn't one he practiced often.

The lurking presence of the snake dissolved, fading downward and away, only to reappear across the table with a serpentine incline that brought him eye level with the young wizard. "Because...why?"

His brilliant mind raced through an assortment of reasons and explanations, all of which seemed flawed or thin. Alaion was far from incompetent and would undoubtedly be able to see through any blatant attempt to mislead him. He was a familiar of the Fae, the masters of guile.

It was then that a startling realization hit Albion square in the chest. When one dabbled in things Fae, they often did so at the whim of the Institute's Groundskeeper. "I'm making it for Mistress Vesper." He said, lifting his gaze to find the golden slits of reptile eyes staring back at him. "She's commissioned me to make her the potion."

Reaching forward with an extension of scales and sinew, Alaion tasted the air around the vial, nearly brushing Albion's coiled fingers. "For what purpose?"

Albion nearly answered too quickly before remembering who he spoke to. Surely Alaion, with his sample of the air around the vial, somehow discerned exactly what the potion entailed. To admit to what he attempted would certainly lead to the python's sabotaging interlude, an outcome the Transmuter wished to avoid at all costs. It seemed futile, however. Alaion surely knew what the potion was.

...but not what it was supposed to be.

"She wishes to be empowered by the Primrose." He replied as he drew the small glass vessel away from Alaion's scrutiny, lifting it to peer inside at the swirling liquid. "So I've done just that."

He stared at the vial for a moment longer and then glanced to the snake, who watched him with deceitful, knowing eyes. Alaion had indeed analyzed the potion with the tasting of the air and knew that it contained an elixir opposite of what Albion described.

"You shouldn't keep her waiting." The python said, reeling backward with a sharp sweep of its neck, its sardonic glower leveled heavily upon the red head. "I'm sure she's anxious to taste your concoction."

"A valid deduction." Albion agreed as he jammed a cork into the top of the vial. He gathered his things quickly, sweeping bags over his shoulders as magic summoned his affects from the hooks near the door; long coat and scarf dancing across the distance to where he stood. He donned them and turned to exit.

Once outside he breathed a sigh of relief, a smile slowly forming upon quivering lips as he made his way for Alaric's room.

Brais Galician

Date: 2011-11-08 17:29 EST
One of the many conjuration chambers...

"Pathetic." Brais growled as he spun away, in need of space between he and the novitiate. Isabel Hawthorne seemed to be a rather competent caster, but her grasp of conjuration magic was lacking; extremely so. He moved across the chamber with only the sound of his rustling robes heard, gaze severely locked upon the fiery words emblazed upon the dark wall. "If you can't see it with your mind then you have no business trying to summon it." The snarl that entwined these word punctuated the pound of his finger against the enflamed stone. "Your articulation of the incantation is weak. That's why you fail."

Isabel stared at the empty hollow where the item, a heavy orb of bronze, should have appeared, perplexed and exhausted with her continued failures. She had followed the instructions Mage Galician had given her to the letter, taking his modifications of her somatic components to heart, but still success avoided her. "I..." She sighed, not ready for another debate with Brais. His tolerance for her was acidic at best, and the last thing she wanted was another verbal lashing from a question he deemed unworthy of voicing.

Turning to face her, his scowl bore holes into the back of her head. "You are asking for the item to appear when you should be demanding it."

"I'm tired." She quietly admitted.

"As am I." Brais snapped. "Of watching your pitiable effort. I've had children at the Orphanage with no talent or training able to summon better than you, and in far less time."

Again she sighed. "I get it. I'm terrible at summoning. Please stop."

"There is no stop." He harshly assured her. "There is only triumph, and one does not quit until it is achieved."

Isabel took a deep breath and again let her eyes fall to the conjuration bay. She really had wanted to accomplish something, having worked her ass off to prepare herself for success, but conjuration was just too hard for her. It was like a piece of her was tearing away every time she called for something to appear. "But what if triumph is unavailable?" She asked, slowly turning to face him. "What if I'm not meant to summon."

"That may have been a viable option before I became involved, Novitiate Hawthorne, but your personal shortcomings are no longer a concern. Your success, or lack thereof, now reflects upon me as a teacher and I assure you, I do not take kindly to quitters." Again he punched his fingertip into those fiery words. "Stop requesting and begin commanding the magic."

The flaxen cascade of rich hair shadowed her face as she listened, the slump of her shoulders growing a bit more pronounced. "I don't know if I can." She finally whimpered as she lifted her hands to cast. No words followed, though, not even the murmur of a spell, merely standing and staring at the empty area.

"Pathetic." He reiterated as he returned, coming up behind her. "You sicken me."

His menacing presence was undeniable, his callous gaze tangible upon the back of her head. Her breath caught in her throat, her muscles tightening hard along her limbs, prepared for any outrage he might hurl her way. His temper was infamous, as was his lack of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"You are." He agreed. "Terribly so. It is a wonder that you've survived this long inside these walls." The cruel sentiment hung heavily in the air around her before he icily added. "Considering your past relationship with Viperfang's demon, maybe you truly do have only one use."

His words struck her like a fist, stealing her breath in a flash of emotion that transformed exhaustion into anger, and before she knew what she was doing she spun about, her open palm aimed for his cheek.

The slap was audible though lacked force, leaving Brais glaring at her in the end.

"I'm...I'm sorry." She breathed.

He replied with an echo of her assail, his open hand striking her across the face hard enough to knock her completely off her feet.

She landed upon her back, strewn across the floor in a awkward camber of lengthy limbs. Quickly she sat up, holding her face as she openly gawked at him. "How...how dare you."

With a serpent's quickness he lashed out and seized her by the arm, lifting her back to her feet. "Do not compound your apparent weakness by suggesting that I pander to your sex. You are no longer a woman, Novitiate, you are a wizard." Taking her by the shoulders he spun her around to face the summoning circle. "Start acting like one."

"I hate you." She hissed through clenched teeth and tear stained cheeks, one of which burned from his slap.

"Good." He said, the glacial tone coming from just over her left shoulder. "Channel it. Twist it. Use it however you can. Just conjure the sphere, and do it now."

Bayliss Cartier

Date: 2011-11-08 22:00 EST
Laurus Wing

Not a bookworm by any stretch of the imagination Bayliss certainly didn't spend a good amount of her time with her nose between the pages. But, after she talked up her arts and crafts skills to Alaric, she figured she may as well do some research to go along with the project. It had already been decided upon to use iron bells. However, she felt the mobiles for the infants' cribs needed to bulked up in terms of protection. While Albion was able to pull knowledge about the Unseelie from the encyclopedia that was his brain. Bayliss was not without her own resources.

So, after scouring the shelves of the library, and then the shelves at the Teas'n' Tomes. Bayliss had compiled a list of notes to help construct baby mobiles that would be sufficient in protection-along with the blessing of clergy.

Thinly cut rowan branches were laid out across her desk. These would provide the framework for the mobile itself. As she sat there braiding the thin strands of wood she hummed and tapped her foot-every so often reciting a word or two from a poem.

Rowan, amber and red thread,
Pits witches to their speed.

Tilting the skeletal frame of the mobile to one side and examining it. It looked rather like a small broken umbrella. Uneven arms that teetered when they should have tottered. But, it did as mobiles did and spun on its axis. The arms moving independantly of each other.

Next were daisies: these were supposed to keep children safe from the hands of the fae. Bayliss wasn't sure which Court, or what Court. So, she thought it best to cover all the bases.. So, each individual flower was imbued with a spell of eternal blooming. The flowers would last as long as the mobile did. Allowing the children what protection they could. Slowly with infinite care and a practiced hand she wove the daises around the frame.

"Not so bad Cartier." She gave herself a self congratulatory pat on the back as she continued to work.

Albion had said scissors under the pillow. Alaric had said no scissors. But, in her readings scissors hung above the crib in the shape of a cross could also provide protection. The two pairs of iron shears were hardly bigger than her hand. They opened and closed as all scissors should. But, she needed them to be frozen, so that she could position them high in the middle of the mobile--

This part would take all of her concentration. Touching her fingertip to the hinge of the blade as she closed her eyes, and used one of the incantations she'd read in her book of elemental magic..
A cold binding spell. The metal started frost over as its temperature continued to drop. Soon, as if it were being welded. It simply froze together. She attempted to do the same to the other pair, but she wasn't focusing properly-working out of her element-pulling on air instead of water... The iron of the scissors simply shattered.

It took her a moment to realize what had happened. So she set the frozen pair of scissors aside and decided to give them to Alaric, if he wanted to use them he could. She had no use for them now.

"Okay.. I get it. No scissors.. No f'in' scissors."

An angry backhanded swipe of her hand sent the shards of iron to the floor. Clinking as they as fell.

"At least I can't f'up the bells." Then she jingled them-just to break up the burble of the fountain in the background.

The bells themselves were hung from the center point of the arch by a chain of silver. A simple suspension spell allowed the the framework to move even more easily than she had originally designed. The pieces were turning out to be rustic, old fashioned looking.
She was completely pleased with them.

Being a water elemental she naturally turned towards those things from the water. So, the toys she tied on the arms were whimsical renditions of sea creatures. Sparkling seahorses, dazzling octopi, mesmerizing mermaids, glittery goldfish. A certain binding of elements took place between earth and water in that mobile as she tied on the aquamarine ribbons on to complete the project.

She picked each one up and held them up for a final inspection. Taking in a deep breath she blew on them setting them to spin and spin. The arms wobbling and the sea creatures swimming through air. Finally, the night and exhaustion caught up with her.

Hanging each mobile up on opposite corners of the full length mirror in her room before she turned back towards her bed and faceplanted to meet the Sandman.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-11-11 17:58 EST
Searching

Saphira wandered the halls, almost aimlessly, not knowing where to start. she wanted to find Xera. The Azer was intimate to say the least, with fire, and that was exactly what she needed. An outside source of intense flame.Of course, there was no way she could possibly do anything before this weekend came, but it had been an inspiration to her at the very least. She could only hope the rejuvenation process would work. After all, she was only half elemental and this magic had only ever been utilized by those pure of the line. If she were successful she'd be the first not of pure lineage to do it. Not to mention.... She quickened her pace winding through the halls hoping to find her. She needed this...

Keric St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-13 12:05 EST
Who's that Girl?
Part one

There was energy in the air, a palpable force that lingered through the waning expulsion of carnal vigor. Heavy drapes of far-eastern design hung slightly ajar, admitting only the briefest amount of golden luminance to enter the otherwise dark room and expose the shambolic chamber for what it was.

It was a mockery of the elegance previously portrayed, with lavish furnishings and expensive d?cor chaotically turned askew amidst a manic and rabid delve into lascivious ventures. Small ponds of spilled wine marred the smooth marble floor, with sheets and cushions cast about, along with the affects incumbent of the desk against the far wall ? quills, wells of ink and empty stationary - having been shoved aside in desperate need of its sturdy counter.

Alas, the night expelled and left the morning light to pry through any sliver of entry it could find.

Keric winced as the brilliance slashed across his sealed gaze, a hand instantly coming up to shield him from its tormenting brightness. It took a series of blinks to alleviate the haze of awakening and slowly he lifted his head to regard his surroundings. Recumbent within a lush bed and walled by a delicate swarm of sheets and blankets, he observed the throttled room with an eye of suspicion. He had no recollection of entering it, and yet was infused with a mirage of images that detailed what all had gone on in that very bed.

Eyes inclined, his neck straining as he tilted his head back to look at the head board, where an assortment of tightly knotted silken scarves bound his wrists together and held him tautly to the furnishing. Now he remembered?

?Look who?s awake.? The giggly observation chimed from a distant doorway, drawing the Bard?s gaze. With a flute of golden elixir already poured, Gina Magarelli stared at the exposed portions of Keric?s naked body; her dark eyes a salacious rake across masculine cords and ribbons. ?I suppose there truly is no rest for the wicked.?

?Why sleep?? He smirked. ?When all of my fantasies have come to life right here with you??

Her laughter belittled the authenticity of his claim, though Keric knew that deep down inside Gina longed to be the covetous object of her lover. Of her peers. Of her House. Of everyone.

Keric had no qualm pandering to this latent desire.

She stepped from the door, unraveling golden limbs from a gentle hug of her own body to start for where he lay. Wrapped only in a short dress shirt that was unclaimed by buttons and splayed abroad to show the delectable shape of breasts, she made the approach a lurid show for his searching gaze, the feminine slink of her stride accentuating wicked qualities.

Always appreciative of the female form, Keric watched astutely, taking note of the most interesting details while maintaining a mask of lethargy. He?d learned long ago to keep his cards close to his vest, especially when it came to his personal enjoyment.

?Do not attempt to seduce me with your words.? She sang, tipping the flute back to sip from the wine that filled it. Still her eyes traveled about him, falling to where the sheets were lazily strewn about his waist, pausing there. ?You have other assets for that.? With a svelte bend she took up a seat beside him, curling the inside leg to sit upon her foot, the nude apex of her hips nestled warmly thereupon. ?Did you enjoy last night?? The sudden inquiry spawning the dip of her index finger into the wine.

He shifted slightly as she arrived. To her it appeared as though he was making room, but in reality he was testing the hold of the scarves that bound him to the bed. Escape seemed possible, though with her close proximity doing it covertly would be quite the task. ?Of course I did.? He assured her. ?It was, perhaps, my favorite evening of all time.?

?Is that so?? The mirth of her voice was marred with dubiousness. She pulled the finger from the glass and dropped it to his small nipple where she painted the male nub a glistening hue, saturating it with a slow thoroughness. ?And what was your favorite part?? She eyed her work for a moment longer, the finger used in shading him finding the space between her lips. Licked clean, she drew her auburn tresses back and leaned over, the tip of her tongue felt in a torpid lap. ?Tell me.?

Golden pectorals clenched tightly from her touch, a natural response that was hard to resist. For all of her emotional shortcomings, Gina could certainly perform on demand. Fingers closed around the scarf, keeping it firmly in his palms. ?You, of course.? He breathed.

?Me?? The inquiry came in a hot gush of breath that wafted over him. Teeth clenched around his nipple and tugged at it; gently at first though the torment grew steadier with the lengthy entrapment. She wanted to feel him wince.

He fought back the urge to submit to her torture, eyes falling closed to refute the pain. His skin was straining with her bite, the clamp of her teeth stretching him greatly, yet he refused to cry out.

Just when the pain became unbearable and he was certain that she would snatch the nipple straight for his body, she released him and sat up, hair and breasts bouncing lightly. ?Are you sure? What about?her??

Relief came in the form of a gasp, which was then followed by confusion. ?Her??

As though the reference of another stimulated motion, from beneath the storm of covers that surrounded his lower half there was movement, a sensual slither ignited. Hands as soft as silk washed over his thighs as she ? the heavy weight of delicious breasts grazing his legs making her gender easily identifiable ? maneuvered between his limbs. Initially he sought to clench them closed but her crusade, while sumptuous and slow, was quick enough to land her there before he could act.

Lips were upon the inside of his thigh, traversing the sensitive juncture and expanding outward to lightly peck along the swollen endowment of his scrotum. Keric gasped again, a rich and restrained moan, as the path ascended along the base of his flaccid stalk and headed upward. ?Who?? He muttered.

?You don?t recall?? Gina was now meddling with him, evident in the way that she mocked his situation with her singsong voice. ?I don?t either. Let?s find out.? Tipping back her flute, she ingested all of the wine with a single swallow. Carelessly she tossed the glass aside; it?s shattering a distant din, and turned to crawl upon the bed. She reached across him with her supple leg, her calf, knee and then thigh well within reach of his mouth, and comfortably came to a rest upon his face. ?I?ll need to get a good look under those covers, Keric. It may take a moment.?

The attention paid to him beneath the sheets was birthing the swollen girth of his erection, a quick transformation from languid to potent with just a few licks and strokes. The muscles along his thighs tightened, enveloping the unknown female nuzzled between, keeping her held there to continue her undertaking. Gina?s position drew a concerned expression at first, though as the heady scent of her moist, lust-infused cleft came to rest scant inches from his lips he had trouble averting his attention from it. Papered adroitly, it was a treasure to behold.

The assailing air of the cool room found his hips and upper thighs with the lifting of the covers. Gina?s forward camber allowed her to dip beneath and join in on the festive homage delivered to his stout member. Keric?s jaw tightened as her warm mouth contribute to the devotion, the length of his engorged root suddenly shared between the two as they took turns; one sucking and licking as the other talentedly stroked in time, and then vice versa, switching roles without missing a beat.

The pleasure caused his breath to hitch, resulting in a deep, torrid exhale that blanketed her damp slit in its sinful caress. She undulated with his offering, grinding her hips downward in response to the delicious current that washed about, pressing herself to his nimble lips.

Under normal circumstances he would have denied the two their tryst, compelled to embark upon such escapades only under his own facility, but the joint worship of his cock had his body thrumming with stimulation, their twin aptitude undeniable. Instead he reached forth with his deft tongue, so quick and rakish it was when commanding the song, and delivered but a single lap along the length of her most cherished bloom.

Gina?s moan was felt as well as heard, her lips enveloping the stout shape of him in that moment and rewarding his gesture by plunging him deep inside her throat. With a whorish proficiency she consumed his entire length, a mercurial hum sounding once her forehead came to rest against his stomach. The other set of lips, warm and soft, kissed downward along his shaft to suckle gently upon the fleshy bags hanging beneath.

Arms strained against those cursed scarves, binding him tightly as they did, leaving only his mouth and tongue to bestow her with a libertine gratitude. Succumbing to his condition, Keric strained his neck and lifted his chin, pressing his mouth fully against the damp eye of her lust, the alluring smell accentuated by her taste. His lips parted - and in turn hers did as well - a soaking rend of sensitive flesh unveiling the velvet sheath inside. His tongue delved, impaling that lush recess, and with a painter?s gait and definitude he began to lick deep inside.

Keric St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-13 12:09 EST
Who's That Girl?
Part Two

Gina withstood the initial quiver his thorough invasion ignited, though the incessant lash of his clever tongue ultimately had her recoiling and rising up, whimpering lovingly into the air.

His yielded length was not abandoned for long, though, as the unknown set of lips assumed Gina?s previous role and quickly went to work.
Sitting back on her heels, the young Satyrkiss Apprentice braced herself against Keric?s taut stomach and slowly began to roll her hips. She would have been content to let the Bard do his thing, but this was supposed to be her game, and she would not surrender control to him.

Not again.

?How do you like that?? She purred into the air, accentuating her salacious inquiry with a grinding gyration. ?I?d assume-? The continuation of her taunt was stymied by his increasing pace, the act of her sinful undulation only spurring his own manipulation onward.

Keric didn?t mind at all. As she tried to reclaim possession and stroke his face with her saturated cleft, he merely answered her summons with the fervent extension of lips and tongue. Between licks his breath caressed her moist flesh with its warm current, soothing her carnal motivation to lazy ambers one moment and re-igniting her with the return of his oral onslaught the next.

His fluid pace stammered a bit as his cock was released from the warm and wet encampment of lips, left to endure the nippy air of the room alone. This was but briefly, however, and before he could protest the liberation he felt the other female crawling upward along his limbs.

Keric could tell by the way that she moved that she wasn?t a voluptuous type. No, she was much more slender.

Lean even.

This phantom climbed him, framing his waist astride with her knees, mimicking the straddle Gina had across his head. Though he could not see due to the barricade of his current meal, he could certainly imagine the sight with his mind?s eye. How glorious it must have looked.

This heated supposition was distilled as she took his turgid growth within her hand, her grasp much too small to envelope its entirety, and positioned it with the roll of her hips until the tip split her wet skin. She didn?t dally, and with a clench of her legs she dropped her weight, a moan tearing from her lips as her tight channel was fully impaled.

He growled against the drenched crevice covering his mouth, his righteous tongue deployed with fierce ambition.

He heard Gina?s cry, her body an amalgam of paralysis and paroxysm ? one moment loose and flowing and the next rigid with ardor ? before those wondrous moans were muffled. Feeling the shift of weight between the two, both now riding him in different ways, and hearing the stifled whimpers and mewls Keric was certain that they were engaged in a kiss.

The ghost who jockeyed his hips took her time getting started, writhing in small circles to usher him completely inside while stretching to accommodate his size. Once impaled, an elegant and savant motion began to stroke him. It was a hesitant measure growing toward a slick crescendo with the passing seconds.

Keric?s heart pounded against his chest, covered as it was by Gina?s hands, his entire body energized with the mounting excitement. The delicious folds nestled upon his mouth were devoutly saw to, the orgasmic unchaining that swelled in waves greeting him with an equally famished vigor. Gina?s body went rigid with the first string of release, yet he persisted at a determined pace, not too hard or overwhelming, just enough to keep a constant pressure between her clenching walls.

Upon his hips the slender weight pumped slowly up and down, swallowing his erect length again and again. Without warning she was suddenly gown, lifting from her perch upon him and disembarking from the salacious stab. Gina?s forward careen assumed the role, her mouth a momentary substitute as she devoured his root within the recess of her throat, sucking fiercely as she cleansed it of the other?s dewy glaze. Stroking him deft elegance, she consumed him.

This didn?t last however; only long enough for the act to radiate a surge of arousal throughout him. Amidst a lilt of giggles his angry phallus was torqued and turned back into position and once again the narrow passage of the female body was returned.

It had become too much, their cooperative efforts of mouth and pussy, and suddenly Keric desired to be unleashed.

In fact, he demanded it.

A vehicle for their pleasure, the upward thrust of his hips overtook the graceful rotation of his clandestine partner?s body, matched in time with the spear of his tongue. She, this hidden lover, and Gina were instantly at his mercy.

Subdued and erratic, each of them gasped and whimpered between the cracks of their constricted lips as they kissed once more, braced against him and each other to endure the thrusts he administered.

A sequel eruption dampened his lips as Gina again found her release, crying out, bracing heavily upon his hips and grinding her body down against his mouth.

In unison with this glorious emission came an echoed secretion that flooded the tight, slick conduit he pounded up into, bathing his invigorated cock with a honeyed veneer that accentuated his ambrosial hunger.

The masterful tempo, crafted of swift, deep thrusts that were occasionally off put by sinisterly long strokes, quickened, conquering any nuance of her salvaged control. The slap of flesh rang out all around them amidst their shallow and charged moans.

With a determined final drive he buried his heels into the bed and speared upward, the strength of his thrust lifting her off the bed as the head of his assailing cock slammed into the rear wall of her gripping core and unleashed upon it a gout of thick seed in pulsating spurts.

She screamed; her own orgasm tornadic as it ripped through her being. She clenched her legs about his hips - and her sheath around his spewing length - seeking to absorb as much of him as she could in accord with her maddening zenith.

Time stood still as he lay beneath them both, gasping and moaning into the drenched slit pressed to his lips as his cock was nursed of every drop he offered. That lap of Gina?s dripping bloom diminished to a languid pace through the course of his release, the strain upon the scarves that held his wrists ending as his arms limply relinquished their attempt.

The woman who rode him disengaged with a sloppy peel of her body and the unfurling of shaking legs, spilling a line of their comingled seed across his thighs in her departure.

Gina remained for a prolonged instant, passing the time by once more cleansing his soiled, fading cock of residual dew with her mouth. The seconds ticked by and then suddenly she crawled forward, pivoting about to face him, straddling his ribs.

Keric?s eyes were heavy and it took great effort for him to part them. He found her staring down, a delighted smirk etched upon her lush mouth.
?Do you know who that was?? She asked knowingly.

?Alas, I don?t. Care to indulge me??

Clapping her hands girlishly she leaned down and kissed him on the lips, a touch that lingered with the flavor of her damp offering still present. ?I don?t!? She chimed as she sat up, arms rising above her head in salute to her victory. ?I guess you?ll never know.?

And finally, Gina Magarelli had something of value that none of the other girls had, and that Keric St.Clair couldn?t take from her.

A secret.

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-11-14 10:49 EST
With brows furrowed in a fusion of frustration and disappointment, Albion knocked upon the door to the Nathiliium Wing. He?d done so three times previously and had yet to receive a response, but the determination of the young Transmuter kept him adamant about his task.

?Alaric?? He asked through the barrier, the tilt of his head putting his ear close in case the Wizard he sought decided to speak to him in whispers. Alas, there was no retort yet again.

?Aren?t you supposed to be brilliant??

?Actually, by most measures of human intellect the variable of supposed to has been invalidated.? Albion replied to the question asked from behind while still focused upon the door. His fist lifted, knocking once more.

?And yet here you stand, another rap delivered upon a door that obviously encloses an empty room.?

With a turn that sent rich tresses of scarlet shade fanning about, Albion found the form of Tutori Silvestri standing not far away, a casual lean bracing him against an open doorway.

?That is one possibility. Other likelihoods being that Alaric has become incorporeal and can no longer communicate with this realm, has changed himself into an ooze that possess no vocal ability, or ?and this is where my money lays - he has become deaf by a casting mishap and cannot hear my knocking.?

The shade smirked. ?But being asleep isn?t anywhere in there, is it??
Emerald eyes shifted as he considered the option and then finally replied, ?Highly unlikely.?

Tutori?s laugh was genuine, an aristocratic flare adding weight to the lilt. ?Well, Apprentice, he is not currently in. I believe he is visiting his sister.?

Albion?s hand subconsciously fell to the pouch at his side containing the Primrose elixir. He was really wishing to get it to Alaric before anything drastic occurred and hoped that this visit to his sister was one of standard recreation and not something more severe. ?Do you know when he?ll return??

?He didn?t say.?

Again Albion?s brow furrowed. He pivoted to depart though only made it a single step before he turned back. ?Could you let him know that I was looking for him??

Normally Tutori would have blown off the request, considering his time far too valuable to be spent waiting around to deliver messages to Novitiates, but Albion was well liked by Rainer, his House Brother in Satyrkiss, which lengthened his leniency in such matters. ?If I see him, I?ll let him know.?

There were no other words spoken as Albion made his way from the wing, taking the stairs leading to the main floor quickly. He was torn between heading to the conjuration chamber where the tomb was located or back to the Alchemy ward in search of Apprentice Powel. If he was going to get started on his ascension before the deadline arrived then he needed to get moving.

?Oh Albion??

The voice was familiar yet without looking Albion couldn?t place it. Turning to view the speaker he found only an empty hallway infused with shivering shadows. Arching a thin brow high above his left eye, Albion asked to the solitude. ?Hello??

?I?ve missed you.?

He heard her again, though this time the voice was a whisper along his ear, close enough for him to feel its soft brush. Startled ?never a fan of such close quarters ? he whirled about with a lash of scarlet following.

Still there was no one.

His emerald gaze narrowed amidst its slide along the corridor. ?While I?m sure that your amusement in this case is boundless considering my ignorance as to your origin or purpose, I can assure you that with but a single a spell I can not only discover who you are but make you pay dearly for playing such a game. My recommendation: Show yourself.?

Silence was his only answer, which drew his hand upward with intent focus.

?Calm down, Albi. I?m only having a little fun.?

There sitting in one of the open windows was the owner of the voice, reclined squarely against the frame with legs outstretched and ankles crossed; an elongated repose. There may have even been scant traces of seduction involved, but considering whom it was engaged in the pose, such notions were nullified.

?Jolie.? He said her name firmly, as though to utter it took effort. Still that glower infecting his gaze remained. ?What do you want??

?Now that?s no way to greet an old friend.? She mused darkly. ?Haven?t you missed me??

?We are not friends.? He said with certainty before repeating. ?What do you want??

She pushed off the window with what initially was a rather lazy movement but the addition of a preternatural pace had her moving in a blur; one moment across the hall, the next right in his face. ?I want your help.? She hissed, her murderous smile revealing lethal fangs.

Physically he didn?t flinch, even if her sudden immediacy had his mind recoiling around a half dozen spells that could damage the undead. He held her gaze, her leer, squarely. ?I have no desire to help you.?

That vicious grin widened as she took but a brief step back, only so that she could look into his eyes. Normally she would have just compelled him to do her bidding ? or at least attempted to ? but the Deaconess had it made it rather clear upon her return that she was to avoid such measures. Instead, she needed to bargain in a more mortal fashion. ?Well of course you don?t, but that?s only because I haven?t told you what all I know about the Fae.?

Albion?s teeth came together to refute the shocked gasp that sought escape; a slight tick of the jaw in its place.

?And before you try to deny it, Sepherock, you should know that I was there at the book store when you and your little nerd herd were all talking about it. I know all the details.? The edge of her smile held a victorious air. ?You all came up with some pretty good ways to keep the Unseelie away. But I?ve got a better one than all of those.?

?How??

?The Fae and the Undead have been enemies for millennia. Don?t think that there haven?t been some hints of how to kill those tree-hugging f-ers passed down.? She tilted her head, black eyes fluttering with a girlish blink. ?My sire may have enlightened me as to them.?

Dilemma. Albion?s abhorrence of Jolie was limitless, but what she spoke was true. He had studied extensively the Fae as well as the undead ? Vampires in particular ? and was well educated as to the Bloodless War, a battle that spanned two thousand years and saw to the death of more than a hundred-thousand Fae and Vampire combined. Unfortunately, it was hard to discredit the notion that she probably did know a secret or two about defending against the Fae.

He sighed, the narrow line of his shoulders dipping just a tad as he slowly nodded. ?Very well. What do you want in return??

Triumphantly she turned to the side, hooking Albion?s slender arm in the wreath of her own lean limbs, and started forward. ?Walk with me, Albi, and let me tell you a story.?

Albion Sepherock

Date: 2011-11-14 22:57 EST
?This is Vesper?s Wood.? Albion said, his step terminating just at the cusp of the forest. Emerald eyes scoured the thick grove, barley able to make out interior details with the thick mist roving about. ?And I?m not sure we should enter.?

Jolie spun to face him, the lewd length of her uniform skirt immodestly flaring out to flash the black lace beneath. ?Are you scared, Albi? I didn?t peg you the type.?

Truth be told, he did possess a healthy amount of fear for the Institute?s Groundskeeper, but that had little to do with his disinterest in entering. It was a matter of principle. He wouldn?t want students wandering around his wood uninvited. ?Perhaps we should ask first.?

Her mordacious sigh was punctuated with stark hands finding her hips. ?Right, because Vesper will let us just waltz on in and take what we need to repel the fae - a group she?s in league with.?

?Are you suggesting that we steal from Mistress Vesper?? He asked incredulously. ?I don?t think that would be wise at all.?

?Fine.? Jolie snickered. ?Then go on about your way with your little crib and mobile and scissors. I hope they work for you. They don?t always do the trick, you know??

?Perhaps if you just told me what it was that we were after I could go and speak with the Mistress. I?ve engaged in erudite conversation with her before.? It was the truth, even if that particular memory drew a shiver up his spine.

?That?s not how this is gonna work, Red. You see, I?m going to show you what you need so that you know that I?m not lying, but I?m not going to tell you how to use it until you get me what I need.?

Albion?s exacerbated exhale presented itself in a billowing ashen vapor that veiled his features, though the glimmering shade of his gaze pierced the cloud easily. ?And you asked for a ring of reverse enchantment, which doesn?t make any sense considering that you are undead and are highly resistant to enchantment??

?Immune!? She snapped. ?Or at least should be, but noooooo?not here. Not at the great Institute of Arcane Principle, where enchantment is more potent than ever.?

?That doesn?t surprise me.? He admitted. ?Master Nil?aiha is an extraordinary instructor. The fact that he has been able to teach his students how to bypass your latent resistance to enchantment is an achievement in and of itself.?

?Yea, let?s hear it for the bleeder and his triumphs.? She dryly congratulated. ?Either way, I need an item that can reverse the effects. I might not be able to resist them, but at least this little nugget could give me an edge the next time one of those Satyrsucks try to have their way with me.?

?Satyrsucks??

?Forget it. Are you in or not, slim??

Suddenly Albion felt a little trapped. In order to help Alaric he had to help Jolie, which, as Xera would say, was like killing a kitten to save a puppy. He glanced to the forest again and shook his head, a subconscious denial of what he was about to agree to.

?Fine.? The pact voiced shakily. ?Let?s begin.?

Alyithra

Date: 2011-11-21 07:38 EST
A Taste Of What Is To Come
Part One

The grey building that was the Necromancy annex loomed rather depressingly on the grounds of the Institute of Arcane Principle, neighboring the graveyard that often supplied the subjects of experiments and lectures in many of Smout'n's classes. Alphyon stepped down from the great black doors of the annex and onto the little stone walkway that was surrounded by a contrasting lively green grass, making his way from that particular area of the school that seemed perpetually overcast and dim. His path took him through the gardens, where students sat either studying or enjoying a break between classes under the sun and the shade of the trees.

Most did not know Alphyon yet, and so he went largely unnoticed. He made a mental note to take a more active role in the social life of the students; the goals of his lord Raithmoore would be more easily accomplished if he gained a better reputation with the students as well as the instructors. He did not linger in that colorful place for long, but climbed into the building that made up the main structure of the school and through its winding corridors to stop at the library. There, he searched for a tome he had overhead Smout'n mention off-handedly to another student of higher standing with the school.

A familiar husky laugh smoothed through the quietness of the library, drawing the eye to a small group of novices who were studying together in one of the nooks. Alyithra was among them, laughing at something whispered to her by a human male even as she removed his hand from her thigh under the cover of the table. Sensing the nearness of her brother, crimson eyes looked up, searching the dimness for Alphyon with an expression that was the perfect mixture of sweet and secretive. His sister had been playing with their fellow students again, winning some of them over to her artful displays of shy innocence.

He heard as much as felt his sister's presence and canted his head to the side to listen. His keen ears could pick up the sounds of the boy's voice, but were not so sharp as to decipher the words. Still, the tone suggested his sister was doing exactly what she was supposed to be and that was enough. He plucked the book from its shelf when his fingers brushed over the spine and flipped through the old, yellowed pages. He had read a bit of this same tome before, in Raithmoore's library, but he didn't finish it before being sent to the Institute.

Deciding that this would help him impress Smout'n further, he tucked the book into his bag and then stepped around the shelf to peer down the aisle where the students sat at a table, his gaze immediately meeting Alyithra's.

The cast of her eyes turned enquiring as she met her brother's gaze warmly, her head tilting in a clear indication that she wanted to be told what happened next. Was she to leave her companions wanting more, or would Alphyon join them?

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he offered her a brief hint of a smile before he approached in complete silence until he was just on the other side of the table from her. "Usstan kyorl dos ph'sein'nin wun al, dalninil. Nindol zhah bwael," he turned his gaze to the others who occupied the table as he spoke.

She laughed again as all eyes at the table turned to her brother's arrival, lifting her own voice in answer to his dangerous comment. "Nind ph'estrua, jhal nind kluth ulu saph uns'aa," was her response, followed swiftly by a change to common. "Everyone, this is my brother, Alphyon. These are Felix, Akemi, and Patience."

He inclined his head in a most respectful manner at the introduction. "A pleasure to meet you all ... I hope I am not intruding?" he asked, fingers curling around the back of the sole empty chair at the table in a silent request.

Playing their group masterfully, Alyithra leaned into Felix's side, since he was the only one who was likely to object to her brother's presence. As the aggressive social climber leaned into her in return, Akemi nodded toward the chair under Alphyon's hand.

"Feel free," he offered, flicking a grin toward the last member of the group. "We're honoured. The soon to ascend PP is with us today."

Patience rolled her eyes, flicking a finger against the elementalist's cheek. "Oh, yes, har, har."

Alphyon pulled the chair out with a small nod of thanks and lowered himself into it, flicking a quick glance between Alyithra and Felix. To most, it would appear to be no more than an average case of brotherly concern. "Ascend?" he asked, his internest caught as he turned to examine Patience curiously. "Ah, yes. I've heard some talk of your upcoming ascension; you haven't been here all that long, have you? Seems you have many of your peers and instructors quite impressed, if I'm not mistaken."

Patty shook her head with a smile. "I just want to not be bored in lessons," she admitted to the drow male, somehow managing to continue writing as she chatted. "I've already done seven years in magic education, novice level is a little staid for me right now."

Alpyhon nodded sympathetically. "I understand completely. Alyithra and I have studied a bit ourselves in the past, though I fear in some subjects I am in dire need of a long series of refresher courses."

"Not in Necromancy," Felix snorted a little derisively, his arm looping about Alyithra's shoulders possessively enough to be a deliberate attempt at riling her brother. The dark flicker in her eyes showed that Alyithra had picked up on that intention, too.

Akemi hurried to cover the awkwardness. "Yeah, Aly over there never stops talking about her brother who's so fantastic in everything he does," he grinned at Alphyon. "You'll be Ascending soon as you can, too, won't you?"

At the end of the table, Patty chewed the end of her pencil and surreptitiously made a correction to Akemi's notes while he was otherwise occupied.

Alyithra

Date: 2011-11-21 07:42 EST
Part Two

Alphyon chuckled and glanced aside at his sister again, his lips twitching at Felix's attempt to bait him. "Alyithra, no doubt, has embellished a few details. I will say that Necromancy is by far my best subject, but that does not mean I am anywhere near the appropriate level to begin my Ascensions. I study dilligently, of course, and if that time does come sooner rather than later, well, I won't mind at all."

"If you want it to happen sooner, you need to make it happen," Patience offered, withdrawing her pencil from Akemi's notes before he looked around. She had not once stopped in her work throughout the conversation. "I asked Master Ariaith to suggest Ascension for me, that's how I got permission to start the testing."

Alyithra, while in the process of removing Felix's wandering hands from her breast and thigh, piped up at this point. "Patience is the alchemist's favorite student."

The drow necromancer's fingertip touched beneath the table and a little trickle of energy coursed through the wood to pool at the floor beneath his fit, lingering discreetly for the time being. He smiled and tilted his head as his attention went back to Patience. "Alchemy, I would imagine, is something you're quite skilled in, then. I enjoy the subject quite a bit as well, the complexities are just as varied and in depth as the rituals of Necromancy."

As Alyithra hid her smile at what she sensed from her brother, Patty openly smiled, stifling a laugh in case the unseen librarian caught her and threw her out again. "It's one of the basics of magic use back at home," she explained, dismissing the compliment easily. "I just have an unfair advantage, that's all. I don't get on with Necromancy at all, though. Smout'n told me I wasn't worth teaching when I arrived her."

Akemi's laugh at this was open and loud, ignoring the 'shh'ing from other tables. "Smout'n's a grumpy old git," was his pearl of wisdom added to the conversation, his eyes flickering toward Alyithra and Felix, who appeared to be wrestling discreetly.

"Oh, do not disrespect Smout'n," Alphyon clucked his tongue in quiet disapproval. "He's quite ... coarse, I admit. But he is brilliant as well, I understand he can be difficult to like, but he is deserving of some degree of respect." He turned to Patience, next and spoke much more amiably to her. "I understand of course, Necromancy is not for everyone, but the same can be said for many schools. I, personally, am very poor with the magics of Abjuration, I simply have no aptitude in that field. We all have our weaknesses and our strengths."

Patience's smile widened as Alphyon spoke, amused by Akemi's playful grimace at the way he was told off. "It looks like your strengths are my weaknesses and vice versa, Alphyon," she chuckled, glancing at her watch. "I'm sorry, I'm late for Jerry. It was nice to meet you, Alphyon."

As she hurried to pack up her belongings under Akemi's sniggers, there was a thump from under the table, and Felix stifled a loud grunt of pain. Yet when they looked around, Alyithra was sat perfectly still, her eyes demurely downcast to her notes.

"And you as well, Patience. Best of luck in your studies, I'm sure your ascensions will go quite smoothly," he offered her a warm smile before his head canted and he turned to watch Alyithra and Felix curiously. The energy that pooled at his feet focused into an invisible line and traced silently along the floor, beneath Felix's chair.

The apprentice was frowning at Alyithra, unaware of the retribution heading his way from her brother for the way he was behaving. As Patience smiled to everyone and slipped away, Akemi glanced between the trio left at the table slightly warily.

"So tell me...Felix, was it?" he leaned over the table, fingers curling with one another as they settled on the surface. "How do you know Alyithra?"

"I don't," the apprentice told him blatantly. "I intend to know her better, though. Objections, dark elf?"

Beside Alphyon, Akemi rolled his eyes, being rather more aware of the renowned temperament of the drow than the apprentice currently baiting one. "Shall we go and put the books away, Aly?" he asked Alyithra. "Don't really think we want to be here for this convo, do you?" Alyithra's eyes flickered to Alphyon, seeking permission to retreat before she agreed.

Her brother's chin inclined only slightly. The action was barely even a nod, but the message was clear. "Objections? Well, that depends, really. I'm quite fond of my sister, you see. She is my blood after all ... I am merely looking out for her well being. Surely, you can understand."

"You might be her brother, but you're not her keeper," Felix objected with another of those angry scowls that so disfigured his pretty face as Alyithra and Akemi made their hasty retreat with their arms full of tomes. The apprentice leaned forward, attempting to intimidate a drow openly. "I'll have what I want, or I'll destroy both of you before you get the chance to settle in. Do you understand?"

His skill in Necromancy was put to the test, then. The spell he had placed before flared with a dull green light as the energy lanced through Felix's chair, temporarily placing upon it a rather powerful, if underhanded, paralysis effect designed to trap any who sat in it. Alyphon leaned across the table and smiled politely at the man, whispering his response.

"You will not touch my sister again without her explicit consent. You will not speak to her unless she speaks first. You will stop bothering her immediately. If you do not..." his fingers walked along the table, leaving little scorched lines in their wake that formed a rune commonly known as the runic symbol for death in many forms of magic. "You will cease to be. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Of course, if the paralysis effect had worked, then Felix wouldn't be able to respond, but he felt he should ask for the sake of etiquette.

The apprentice hadn't been expecting a mere novice to attack so openly, frozen in place by the spell cast. His pupils dilated with sudden fear, aware that he had just punched far above his weight and missed. Not even Brais would have been this blatant in warning him off. A low sound of reluctant agreement rumbled in his throat, the actual words caught in his mouth by the inability to move.

Alyithra came up behind her brother, smoothing her hand warmly over Alphyon's shoulder as she leant down to kiss his cheek, the loving gesture hidden from all but Felix by the fall of her hair, her eyes promising violent retribution should the apprentice choose to disregard this warning.

Alyithra

Date: 2011-11-21 07:46 EST
Part Three

His hand lifted and twisted to rest upon Alyithra's when she appeared behind him. "Splendid!" he replied cheerfuly to the grunt of consent, slipping to the side to stand from his chair and scoop up his bag. "Then we shouldn't have anything to worry about." He was given a series of "shushes" from some students at a nearby table who were qutie unaware of what was taking place, and he smiled apologetically at them before turning to lean in and whisper into the still paralyzed Felix's ear. "Don't worry, the effect should wear off in about half an hour. Just ... keep this little incident between us ... no harm, no foul, right?"

He stepped back. "I knew you'd understand, you seemed like a reasonable fellow. Come then, Alyithra." He twisted around and stepped away from the man to exit the library.

With an obedient flick of her hair, Alyithra turned away from the paralysed Felix without a second thought, following her brother through the stacks and out of sight. After a moment, Akemi returned to the table, sitting down in front of Felix with a grin. "You do know how to pick them, don't you, Foster?" he laughed, shaking his head. "If they kill you in your sleep, can I have your wand?"

The distant sound of Akemi's words reached his ears and Alphyon chuckled. "How on earth did you come to attract such a motley group?" he asked, glancing over at his sister as they left the library behind and stepped into the halls of the Institute.

Alyithra laughed softly, her arms wrapped about her own books as she walked along beside her brother. "Akemi sits beside me in Spell Composition," she told him quietly. "I was struggling with one particular syntax, as was he, and he suggested that I come and study with him and Patience. Foster simply made himself at home before any of us could object."

"I get the impression he's used to people not objecting ..." he shook his head. "If he does not honor our agreement, you have my permission to make an example out of him, publically or no. Break him in any way you see fit, if I do not get to him first."

"I am honored, dalninuk," she smiled, crimson eyes glittering with wicked delight. "I doubt he will attempt anything overt, though you should be on your guard. He wants me, but he will hate you now."

He chuckled. "I am not so poor at Abjuration as I claimed; I will be sure to conjure up the necessary wards and shields to keep me well aware of any threat on my person. I also have the material necessary to detect this Felix Foster wherever he may be ... in case I decide he has not quite fully grasped my meaning."

Her eyes flickered toward a pair of passing students, both of whom attempted to look down their noses at the drow siblings until they passed by. "If he has not, he will be a perfect example of why you should never cross drow," she chuckled softly, lowering her voice to identify the students they had just passed. "Grant Palamine, Grail Infinity. ViperFang apprentices. Infinity has a known obsession with Necromancy, Palamine is a known seducer."

Alphyon nodded and filed the information away. "I'm impressed," he whispered in response as they continued past the apprentices. "You've collected quite the store of knowledge on our peers in our short time here."

"Magarelli is not the only person in the school who likes to gossip," she chuckled softly. "A smile in the right place, and some will trip over their tongues for a second smile."

He smiled sweetly at her and changed the subject to prevent them from being overheard. "Do you have any other lessons for the day?"

"Nothing today," she told him softly. "And you, dalninuk? Will you be leaving me to study with others tonight?"

"No, I am through for the day. You know I prefer to study in the comfort of our quarters, anyways."

She sighed softly. "It may not be long until they choose separate quarters for us," she murmured. "No siblings have been set together thus far."

"I believe Raithmoore stressed the importance of our continued closeness and given Arkon Daraul a bit of insight regarding our ... bond. No doubt, those who run this institute seek to learn more of the nature of our connection, separating us would prove detrimental to such studies."

Her brow rose, amused by his faith in how the Mastema might adhere to Raithmoore's instruction. "You trust too easily, Alphyon."

"Trust? No, I simply know of Raithmoore's power, of the secrets behind this school. Their relationship did not breed much, I will admit. But Arkon Daraul, Satariel Shah, they respect him, and he respects them. Do you know what the price of our admittance was?"

"The opening of the citadel." It was spoken quietly, for she was not supposed to know this piece of information. It had been intimated to Alphyon alone, but thanks to their bond, she had acquired the knowledge illicitly.

He nodded slowly. "Indeed. If they want to learn more of Raithmoore's secrets, they will continue to respect his wishes. And there is much more beneath the citadel than any necromancer, any mage, could dare to dream of."

Alyithra

Date: 2011-11-21 07:48 EST
Part Four

She kept her smirk in check in the moments before she stepped through the door into their private chamber, waiting until that door was closed before responding with that wicked quirk of her lips. "Only the most resilient will survive," she purred, lowering her books to the desk. "They will lose more students than they gain back with such studies."

He stepped in behind her and closed the door, locking it with a little twitch of a finger. "Too true, dalninil."

She laughed in merry agreement, turning away as she undid her tie, her fingers opening the buttons of her shirt. As usual, the moment privacy was offered, she slipped out of the hated uniform at the first opportunity.

He lowered his books to the floor and kicked his boots off before stepping around her. His hands lifted, brushing hers away as he finished pulling the tie away and opening her shirt. "You have done quite well, Alyithra. I am very pleased with you. So very proud. Do you know that?"

Her hands fell to her sides as he uncovered her, letting the shirt and tie slip to the floor unheeded. "You trained me," she reminded him cheekily. "Raithmoore gave me the gifts, but you gave me the skills. I only make use of what I have."

He chuckled, his hands brushing along her body before they rose to cradle her jaw. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers in the briefest of kisses. "That you use them so artfully only pleases my further. You, my dear sister, are a true jewel. A treasure unlike any other."

Her hands smoothed up to rest against his chest as he kissed her, her lips parting in a knowing grin. "Until I fail you," she chuckled darkly. "As we both know."

"You will not fail me," he replied, fingernails grazing down her side as he released her jaw. "I have faith in you."

"As I say," she laughed teasingly, drawing herself away to continue stripping skirt and shoes from her ebony skin, "you trust too easily, Alphyon." Whether she meant it or not, it was a lesson they both had learned - never trust anyone, no matter how close.

He chuckled and twisted around to undo his own tie. "I do not trust easily. I simply know."

Naked, utterly at ease in that state, she turned her attention to brushing out the silver-white mane of her hair as she smiled at his insistence. "They mustn't know," she said suddenly, her smile gone as her voice turned serious. "None of them must know how close we are. They will find a way to use it against us."

"I know, dalninil." He unbuttoned his shirt next, letting it fall to the floor. "None will know. We will play our parts, and we will play them well."

Smiling once again, relieved by his assurance, she turned to slip beneath the warmed covers, drawing the sheet over herself comfortably as her eyes turned to watch him preparing for bed. "Then we will prosper."

"Was there ever a doubt in your mind?" he asked, kicking his pants away as they fell to his ankles and turning to smirk down at her.

"Of course," she murmured with a sparkling display of sardonic humor as she repeated Raithmoore's first assessment of her from decades before. "I am only a mere female, weak in mind and body. I will never amount to anything."

He chuckled, leaning over the bed to press his lips to her forehead. "Raithmoore knows many things, but his ... resentment toward our homeland has clouded his judgment in many others. Sleep now, dalninil. We will speak more in the morning."

She preened happily under the affectionate touch of his lips to her skin, settling back against the pillow with a soft sigh. "Izil dos daewl, d'anthe dalninuk." Whatever he wished, simple or not, his word would always be her command, above all others.

Cassidy St.Clair

Date: 2011-11-21 21:37 EST
The twenty-first, again. The enchantress paused before her own door, unsurprised to see the single stalk of blooms laid carefully before her unguarded threshold. The tiny cluster of yellow flowers, looking essentially like small sunflowers, was unidentifiable - not the mum of last November or the Chinese Tulip of April past. As time wore on, these routine gifts were wandering further into floral obscurity.

Cassidy retrieved the flower, her demeanor devastatingly nonchalant, sugary lips still a-tilt in her characteristic, friendly smile. Once within the solitude of her chamber, she closed the door solidly, her exhale meaningful and relieved, yet light.

Even the most sacred of rituals eventually became routine.

The twenty-first was their day. The date of their first kiss, of his birthday, and of hers, the night they first made love, the day they were separated. And for three years, Rainar Pontius had left her a single, magically-infused bloom on the twenty-first of each month. She had quite a collection.

A loosely-sensual gait carried her to the far wall of her chamber, delicate fingers disturbing an obtrusive, small porcelain box to retrieve a miniature golden key. The same fingers ran an invisible - yet familiar - line down the empty span of her wall, summoning a hidden lock. There the key found it?s mate, and the wall evaporated into a lovely niche, where sat a large bouquet.

Not a single flower repeated; thirty-five thriving blooms crowded her crystalline vase, from Spring?s cherry blossom to Summer?s lush ivy. With Rainar?s talent, who knew what charms lingered in these vibrant petals?

The Mage St. Clair added this newest blossom to her collection, her manner remarkably casual. Had it really been three years? They were so much younger when they met in their shared house: Novices, both sixteen and as star-crossed as any lovers, new to the Institute and desperate for companionship. Eager to loose themselves in another?s skin, they spent their days in bed while classes continued in their absence. He was her first kiss, her first love, her first everything.

Their immature enthusiasm was also their demise, though, for when her parents learned of her poor performance in class, they forbid her from seeing Rainar in any capacity. He was nothing, no one, merely a failure in unison (for this catastrophe occurred right before the discovery of his unequalled gift for item creation). The flowers from their first year apart were particularly cliche: a rose, a lily - anything to thaw the frosty attitude she had been ordered to adopt.

But she had persevered in this unmerited hostility, and become quite a successful wizard in her small niche, as had he. For all of their storybook-sweet and pining gestures, Cassidy was forced to acknowledge that they were better apart. The flowers were lovely; a memorial to their more innocent years, but ultimately, a lost time.

She couldn?t dwell.

With a sweep of her unblemished palm, the niche melted back into the wall, suddenly and utterly invisible.

HowlingMoon

Date: 2011-11-25 10:59 EST
Vengeance


It had been bad enough the she-bitch had killed her own precious familiar, but now she had the gall to strut around the school with those two monsters she was trying to pass off as 'little girls'. Little girls indeed. Everyone knew what they were - monsters. Sired by a Denubae. They would grow to be formidable, and perhaps, Jolie mused, usable. They were still young, and that meant that they might be corrupted or even made her thrall....better yet, why not take one as her own familiar? To replace the one their bitch mother had slain.

She was willing to go to any lengths to get revenge on Saphira for what she had done. Knowing Vesper had punished her wasn't enough, it would never be enough. Not until she took one of those creatures and made it her own. Just the idea of having one of those little beasts turning on Saphira made her smile. Nobody else seemed to have any interest in them other than that boring bookworm, Kish. And she didn't see him as a threat.

So she waited, biding her time, watching the girls in secret. Oh how she would crow in triumph when she claimed one of them and bound it to her! And who knew? Perhaps one of them might very well make a decent familiar. After all, who had ever had a Denubae or it's spawn tied to them? None she knew of, she would be the first. With such a power at her command she would be able to take her revenge on every miserable pile of offal who had ever crossed her path. And Mystri....how she hated her. Taking her revenge on Saphira was sure to hurt the shape-shifting little whore.

She hated them. She hated them all! She should be recognized for the talent she was, the glory and prestige should be hers. Yet those irritating mortals, those insignificant mites were more recognized than she. Soon, she thought, soon it will all change. She would taste the succulent revenge she so richly deserved. Rise above them all and laugh as they were forced to recognize her superiority. And one of those little whelps would be the key. Getting to one of them would be tough, Saphira and Kish rarely left them alone, and when they did that damned owl was left with them to watch over.

This would take some planning, careful planning. She would need a suitable distraction for the she-bitch and that miserable suck-up who warmed her bed. That was a thought that would have made her vomit if her system still worked that way. She would then need some way to lure one of them away...but how? And how to control her once she did? This was going to take some time and thought. Perhaps the library would hold some insight. When night had fallen again and all was dark, and there were only a few students straggling in the halls attending their own nocturnal classes, she made her way to the vast library and its wealth of books. She looked for hours before finding something useful. The heavy, thickly bound book was lifted from it's shelf, laden with dust and years of disuse. This was it! This was what she needed! She clutched the book to her less than ample bosom and hurried to her own room to begin her research, and her plans.

Alphyon

Date: 2011-12-04 14:47 EST
?A ghoul?s favorite haunt is usually a graveyard, where they are able to feed on the flesh of the dead in secret. They favor hunting at night and are deterred by fire and the sun and driven purely by their hunger,? Smout?n explained to the class as he stood behind the table which displayed one of these ghastly creatures.

Its mottled flesh was torn and bloodied in several places, its mouth hanging slack jaw to reveal a set of uneven and sharp teeth perfect for ripping through flesh and cracking bone to suck the marrow out. In its gut was a large hole from which black ichors streamed, the gore pooling on the clean surface of the table that supported the unmoving creature.

?They are perhaps the simplest of undead next to the zombie. Though they are both driven by their insatiable appetite, ghouls can recognize a threat and see the harm in light and fire and inherently know to steer clear of it, whereas the zombie shuffled aimlessly until it finds prey to feed upon,? his hand lowered to curl under the wrist of the ghoul, lifting its large and clawed hand up for inspection. ?Their hands, as you can see, are well equipped for rending flesh from bone and though they are slight in appearance, ghouls possess a supernatural strength that can easily pin a grown man. They are not to be taken lightly, for all their simplicity.?

Alphyon only took notes for the sake of appearances; the nuances of the many undead creatures Smout?n had shown them thus far were all common knowledge to the necromancer, though he had no desire for Smout?n to perceive him as uninterested. ?This ghoul is dead, as you can tell,? Smout?n dropped the hand with a wet thud as the decaying flesh slapped against the table so he could round it and stand before the class.

?How did it die??

One student raised sat up and spoke. ?Fire, obviously. It?s their chief weakness, naturally it would kill them.?

?Wrong,? Smout?n replied sharply. ?Do you see any signs of burning?? he stepped aside and gestured with a sweeping hand at the body of the ghoul, which was devoid of any scorch marks or blackened flesh. ?No, fire did not harm this creature.?

?It?s not dead,? Alphyon spoke up after Smout?n had finished explaining to the boy the folly of his assumption. ?It?s sleeping; you?ve dulled its senses. It can?t hear or smell us, but when it wakes it will see us. They are nocturnal and sleep during the day; they appear quite dead during this time.?

?Correct,? the necromancer?s affirmation was spoken evenly as he examined Alphyon. ?How do you know then, when one is dead??

?It stops bleeding, for one. And it will give off a much stronger odor than that, all that rotting flesh in its stomach will start to stink up since it is no longer digesting it. And its skin pales to a milky white, most of the time. This can vary depending on the region the ghoul is from, but right now it?s a light grey, meaning it is both alive and quite hungry.?

?Correct again,? Smout?n turned and stepped around the ghoul, waving his hand through the air as he spoke an archaic word of command that sounded like a hiss in the air. It was followed by an audible snap and the ghoul groaned suddenly, lurching into an upright position as its blank, lifeless eyes peeled open to glare hungrily about the room. Unaware of the chains that had snaked up and coiled about its arms and legs, the undead creature lunged outward at the class but fell to the floor in a clamor of chains and grotesque liquids squelching as it scrambled angrily and thrashed.

?Fire also does not necessarily kill it, no more than anything else. It just fears the light,? Alphyon went on to add as he stood and approached the thrashing ghoul, safely out of arm?s reach. Some of his fellow students moved as well, eager to get a closer look at the writhing monstrosity.

Behind the ghoul Smout?n stood calmly, prepared to destroy the creature should it show any sign of breaking free. Alphyon knelt down before it and extended a hand contorted with the shape of a spell?s somatic component. Fire lanced out in a white-hot jet that stopped just short of the undead, which reared back suddenly and howled in a mixture of pained anger and fear. ?It?s a phobia, an irrational fear. Fire does no more damage to a ghoul than it would to me or you.?

?The only way to successfully kill a ghoul is the removal of the soul that has been warped into such a creature to begin with, otherwise you can destroy the body but the spirit will inevitably inhabit another. It may take many years, but it will happen eventually,? his other hand came up and Alphyon spoke words that switched between drow and draconic in heritage, even a guttural syllable of the abyssal language could be heard in the incantation.

?The removal of the soul,? he went on to add as a beam of green light lanced from his palm and struck the ghoul in the chest. ?Is a simple thing, you aren?t killing it necessarily, but forcing it from the material plane and to the astral where it belongs with the rest of its spirits. There it will either mutate into something similar, or find itself again. One way or the other, it is simply pushing it along the right path,? the ghoul hissed and shrieked, clawing at the air and its chains as it struggled to free itself from Alphyon?s spell.

It fell suddenly, its skin paling to that milky white hue Alphyon had described as its blank eyes rolled and a last gurgle of despair issued from its torn lips. Something bright and hot issued from its chest and dispersed in a shower of sparks, Alphyon stood up again and wiped the dust from his pants where he had knelt. ?Now it is dead.?

From behind the now dead ghoul Smout?n examined the novice with an appraising eye, coming to the realization that Alphyon was far beyond the level of most of his necromancy students.

?Class dismissed. Alphyon, stay behind for a moment. I would like to speak with you.?

Alyithra

Date: 2011-12-27 16:33 EST
The Guest Wing

The rooms currently occupied by the drow siblings were strangely quiet, a heaviness of non-sound that lay thick on the ear, making even the smallest of sounds difficult to trace. It was a cold, oppressive feeling, too reminiscent of the years spent in Raithmoore's undead city. But tonight, it suited Alyithra's needs perfectly.

Alphyon was gone, no doubt scheming with his newest lover, the necromancer Bryn Barron. And this, too, suited Alyithra well, despite her jealousy of the match, however temporary it might be. For now she had a secret that must be kept from her brother, and unless he returned to catch her in the act of covering that secret's physical evidence, this heavy silence worked to her advantage.

She dropped into the tepid water of the luxurious bath, one hand slamming ruthlessly hard over her mouth to hold back the hissing whimper of pain that came with the new wash of water into the cuts that decorated her body. Blood seeped to turn the clear hue pink against her dark ebony skin, her breath staggered as she fought not to weep at the stinging harm that had been done to her.

"So your brother thinks he can play with what is mine before all and sundry, does he?"

The voice echoed in her recent memory, bringing with it the renewed throb of claws digging into her flesh, of a hard, cold hand beating against her face until her eyes swelled and her lips split. It had been a beating worthy of a drow, and yet, somehow, not quite enough to fulfill the purpose of the one seeking to make his point.

Alyithra waited until the stinging throb of her wounds had eased, reaching from the tainted bath to gather up her wand. For all that Raithmoore was undead and a necromancer himself, he had made certain that his young charges had learned well of the healing magics. After all, what use was a pair of mortal apprentices who could not even keep themselves from death?

"Everyone has a weakness. I believe you are his, drow b*tch."

Lowering the tip of her wand into the water in which she sat, the young drow Diviner drew in what remained of her strength and began to chant, over and over, the words of the one healing spell she knew would have to work on her myriad injuries. "Siltrin valbyl, vlos z'hren, shar o'goth, z'ress knan."

Slowly, the water began to glow, a warm, pulsating green light that wrapped itself around her, reaching up until the drow herself was only an outline in the blinding enthusiasm of the flickering display of power. The tendrils of energy began their work, coiling over and around her, seeking out those places on her body where damage had been done.

Alphyon would know the spell had been cast, of course; she would think less of her adored brother if he did. But he also believed his sister over-reacted to the severity of injuries, as she had done in the past, and would believe her when she told him of an accident in class involving a blade. And he was, of course, distracted with his newest pet, and their graveyard assignations together. He must never know that in his absence his sister had been harmed ... nor that it was his own foolish trust and pride that had put her in harm's way.

"Why don't you cry out? You think that by keeping quiet I won't beat you so hard?" A harsh laugh utterly bereft of humor grates on her ears amidst the pain. "If you weren't such a disgusting creature, I wouldn't think twice of having you where your precious brother could watch."

Her attacker, a mage who might once have been considered a worthy tutor in her studies, had clearly not known enough of the drow to deliver a beating worth anything. Had clearly not known enough of this drow to understand why she did not cry out in pain as he beat at her fragile body. The moment the attack had begun, she had known that Alphyon could not be allowed to know of it, and so had silenced her voice at the deepest level, allowing no hint of what she felt or heard to travel along the misunderstood bond that linked the siblings so completely.

And the mage, the undead wretch, had left his intended work unfinished. As he had left her, believing that she would lie unmoving and bloodied in the hallway before the rooms where she currently lived with her brother, Alyithra had watched him go with burning hatred in her eyes, a hatred that was meted out to anyone who threatened her brother, even through her. And it was this hatred, this hard, fiery burn, that had brought her to her knees, crawling into the safety of her rooms, and here, to this healing swirl of water and energy that would wipe away any trace of what had happened.

"Bryn Barron is mine. If your brother values you at all, he will never touch her again. Is that clear, little drow?"

As the glow faded, leaving her exhausted but fully healed, Alyithra relaxed back into the now hot, clear water, a rusty laugh escaping from her throat. As though she would ever allow herself to be a weakness in her brother's armor. He would never know of the violence visited upon her by a jealous, furious mage, for she knew her brother's pride well enough to know that he would attempt revenge for it, simply because she was his and no one else's.

And no one could know of how close the siblings were, no one at all. For then she truly could be used against Alphyon, as a conduit for pain whenever anyone wished. It never once occurred to her that he might ever be targetted as a weakness in her shields. The only thought in her mind at that moment was the hope that Alphyon knew what he was doing as he played with Bryn Barron, his latest pet lover.

Kassandra

Date: 2011-12-28 05:36 EST
Chamber Baptisia

The winter festival was over, the rituals of this strange land observed, and now Kassandra of Delphi had the time and leisure to adhere to her own beliefs, her own god. While many here mocked and sneered at her ongoing devotion to Apollo, thanks to the influence of her mentor no one had yet tried to keep her from her devotions. Thus, as the dawning sun rose to sparkle in through the windows of her currently private chamber, Kassandra's voice rose in a song of undying loyalty to her divine master.

"Απόλλων μου, αγάπη μου, Θεέ μου στους οποίους έχω εμπιστοσύνη ..."

The plucked strings of her kithara rang out, clear and sharp, her fingers finding a sweet, lilting counter-melody to that which her voice followed. Around her swirled the scented smoke of burning barley and bay laurel, the incense used at the temple where she had been born and raised. Upon the little table she had set aside as an altar lay a carefully crafted wax figurine of a crow in a small bowl set above a flame, her offering to Apollo in the dark night of the year.

"...... Τραγουδήστε έξω, η ψυχή μου, για τον άρχοντα του φωτός, ο τοξότης που θεραπεύει με τη μουσική τους πόνους της ζωής και της αγάπης ..."

Alesti, the lioness who had chosen to become her familiar, had crept from the chamber some hours before, somehow knowing when her mistress wished for complete privacy, understanding in a way beyond thought that these gentle interludes were a means of finding peace for Kassandra in the mayhem that was the Institute. But this meant that the seer was unprotected, alone in a chamber of stone she had not yet learned to ward against visitors.

A figure stood, unnoticed, in the doorway, all defined muscle and arrogant expression as his eyes drank in the sight of the young seer engaged in her devotions. And it was quite a sight to behold ... Kassandra had not yet garbed herself in the armor of her uniform, draped only in a single layer of gossamer cloth that did nothing to hide the sensual curve of her form as the dawning sunlight cast its rays upon her. Yet her visitor, for all his appreciation of what he saw, did nothing to interrupt the seer's song, waiting patiently for her ritual to end. There was no honor in destroying such a simple, beautiful thanksgiving for one's own gain.

"... Όταν σβήνει το φως της ημέρας σε πιο σκοτεινή νύχτα, την ασφαλή φύλαξη καρδιά μου έως ότου το φως, ο Θεός μου, αγάπη μου, τη μουσική θεραπεία μου ... Απόλλων μου."

As the last vestige of the wax crow melted into nothingness, Kassandra's voice throbbed to a loving close of song, the strings of her kithara falling silent as she bowed her head, glorying in the unaccustomed silence that reigned in her mind. The dawn had been welcomed in the dark of the year, as was her tradition, and she could feel the peace of knowing that somehow, somewhere, Apollo had heard her song of thanks and devotion, and had rewarded her with this mind silence for a few short moments.

Which was why, of course, she jumped quite so violently as a figure brushed against her back, drawing dark cloth over her eyes. Before she could even think to fight back, or call for her familiar, strong hands closed about her wrists, and a warm, if harsh, voice murmured against her ear.

"You really must learn to lock your door, my pet," the familiarly mocking tone of the mage, Florian Dumas, informed her. "You don't want just anyone catching you so ... vulnerable."

As he spoke, his hands released her wrists, smoothing down over the curves he had been admiring for almost an hour now. His fingers curled into the delicate gossamer of her gown, tearing it away like so much paper as the seer felt herself relax, submitting to his touch and demand without a second thought. She heard the door of her chamber close by itself, the unmistakeable click of the lock, the rasp of the bolts, telling her that they were now completely alone as she surrendered to the possessive run of the pale warrior's hands over her dusky skin.

There were some who might have said that pairing the innocent Kassandra with the deliciously corruptible Cassidy St.Clair as a mentor was a dreadful mistake. And yet ... who else could have introduced the seer to such a myriad of others within the school, been responsible for the unwitting protection such associations granted to her? And if Mage Dumas wished to continue his association with Kassandra beyond the limits set by her mentor's tutoring ... who was she to argue?

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2012-06-06 11:09 EST


These rooms had been quiet for too long. Abandoned with leave of the masters and mistresses in the last days of the year gone by, they had stood empty for these past months, yet looking inside, you could be forgiven for thinking the owner had only just left. The fire was laid ready, in the hearth; the drapes over the windows opened or closed given night or day; the sheets on the bed were changed regularly.

Over the months, the marks of little claws that decorated the back of a chair, the bedposts, a particular spot on the carpet close to the hearth ... these had faded, no doubt a blessed relief to she to whom these rooms belonged. Even now, any reminder of the familiars she had sacrificed to her ambition could draw a moment of startling vulnerability from her.

Why had these rooms stood empty so long? Tradition and duty. Callisto Fairbourne, the newest Sorceress of House SatyrKiss, had been called home. With her successful strike against the vampires of the Seknaht clan in Egypt, new rumblings had begun among the other vampiric clans, the werewolf packs. As the youngest daughter of the Dukes of Castle Fairbourne, in this time of uncertainty she was required to make good on a contract signed in the glowing summer months.

Five months, it had taken, to get to this point. Six months of re-establishing ties, of proving her worth as a magic user to the uninitiated of the Mortlock family. Of forcing her way through interminable social engagements on the arm of Lancelot Mortlock, her betrothed. He was everything she was not; brash, loud, physically strong, prepared to thunder through an argument rather than manipulate or cajole. Yet he was also handsome, valiant, charming in his own way. She hated him, and wanted him, and she wasn't sure which made her angrier.

But those five months had also held her away from the Institute, away from her studies, her place as SatyrKiss' confidante. How much would have happened without her there? How might the delicate balance of power have shifted without her pulling the puppet strings? Did she have any use to her shadowed master, now that she was no longer an intimate? Worse ... would she be able to continue in the role she had carved for herself, when her husband would be able to simply walk through any wards she raised, when he would have free access to her, no matter where she was or what she was doing?

These thoughts, too, brought anger to the fore, anger that burned over a low, simmering flame and licked her over with the inescapable truth of her passionate response to any consideration of the brute who was to be her lifelong mate. Yet it was not all bad news. Once the marriage was done, she could return, and perhaps life would be as it was. Perhaps she would be able to ignore the fact that she had been handed over in bartered payment, to cement an alliance made centuries before her birth.

Perhaps.

Leda

Date: 2012-06-06 11:45 EST


Low spun laughter filtered from behind one of the closed doors of Nathillium Wing, a delicate, rousing mingling of male and female that drew indifference or disgust from those others who shared the wing as their living and sleeping quarters. The half-breed was playing again, failing to keep a firm lid on the arousing wash of carnal invitation that radiated from her even through walls and doors. As Thea Pausanias shifted, awkwardly reminded of her behavior at the ViperFang Masquerade, Tutori Silvestri rose smoothly from his seat and left. He was not about to put up with another evening of side-sniping from the GorgonHorn Overseer, simply because she was jealous of their room-mate's open and oft-explored sexuality.

Tangled in sheets that wound sensuously about naked flesh, Leda's laughter slowed into a tender, throbbing moan as the large sure hands of today's lover smoothed over her bronzed skin. He loomed over her in the bed, a giant to her diminuitive shape, his grin matching hers in intimate enjoyment of this so-called study-period of theirs. For once, she had not actually intended upon seducing her playmate, but it would appear that Veles Montmorice had decided she was a worthy lover, and Leda never said no.

"So ..." the ambitious novice was saying as he sat back on his heels, drawing her up with ridiculous ease to be enveloped and surrounded in his upright embrace, "... what was it you were saying, before I so rudely interrupted you?"

This brought another luscious laugh from the succubae-spawn's lips, her head falling back in a blatant display of the assets that had so distracted him from paying attention to her words in the first place. His head lowered to taste the bruises he had left behind on her throat as she arched in his grasp, finally taking control back from him with her fingers fisted in his hair.

"Uh, uh, uh," she breathed, pulling his head back until she could tease him with a kiss that was never going to touch his eager, grinning lips. "Patience, my giant friend."

His grin deepened, teeth snapping toward her in playful defiance as again she was swept about and tossed down into the tangle of sheets, pinned by the very large, very male body that resumed his loom over her. But Veles was not, by nature, a dominant personality; for all his teasing, he was patient enough simply to settle there, caught between bronzed thighs, and listen to what Leda had to say.

"Are you so very set upon joining ViperFang?" she asked in a tender voice, her tone perfectly pitched to appeal to the protective masculinity that ran through any male. Here is a woman who wants you, it said, a woman who might someday grow to need you. Listen to her, and you might earn a lover for life.

Veles frowned thoughtfully, one large hand lifting from the bed to smooth a stray hank of her shining chestnut hair from her face as he studied those black eyes that were so very intriguing. "It has been my ambition since before I came here," he said quietly. "My father was in ViperFang."

"Is that really such a worthy reason to join a House that shows cracks each time it attempts to prove it can move forward with the years?" the young half-breed asked him, still in that tender, uncertain tone, nestling her cheek in the wide cup of his palm. "The fiasco of the Masquerade, and then for the Overseer to fall victim to the consequences of his own intrigue ... It does not seem that ViperFang holds such a mighty tradition any longer."

"It is a great House, Leda," Veles reminded her, but she could see that she had set his mind to turning. "Besides, who else would I join? SatyrKiss care nothing for ability, GorgonHorn is even more mired than ViperFang in noble tradition. StormSabre have so many members, it is not truly an honor to join them."

"Perhaps there is a Sorceror of new rank who might be persuaded to found a new House."

It was a line thrown away, as though she had only just thought of it, though in truth, Leda had been considering this little plan for a while. It would be the perfect humiliation for SatyrKiss, if she could somehow persuade one of their own to break away and form a new House, an exclusive House, that stood outside the others and held the casting vote between the Overseers. What delicious irony that would be.

Veles chuckled, rolling onto his back to bring her with him, draping them both in the soft fall of her dark hair as she leaned over him with her sweetly evocative grin. "You, Leda Nyx, are full of surprises," he laughed, drawing her down into a kiss that became many, until they were once again distracted by matters other than politics.

But the seed was sown now. How long would it be before it took root?

Quillyan Daewen

Date: 2012-06-07 00:21 EST
?My God, would you look at that sky.?

?What?? Quillyan?s quick step abruptly paused before a loftily-arched window, one of dozens lining a peripheral corridor of the school. As she turned a vivid blue gaze to the blooming world without, pristine-pale features flinched subtly, and she blinked several times against the aggressive sunlight. ?What?? she repeated with faint vexation and a nearly impenetrable preoccupation. ?What about it??

?What about it?? Adina laughed, sweetly skeptical. ?It?s gorgeous. Look at the blue. I?ve seen powerful sapphire talismans dim by comparison.?

?Oh, I guess,? the redhead muttered, already resuming her curt pace of progression toward the library. ?But we can?t really compare different elements like that. I mean-?

?You didn?t even look.? Her mentor?s voice was placid, simple, substantial.

Irritation edged her demeanor as she again paused. ?I did look!? she protested, turning on her heel again to face the petite blonde, ?But this paper comparing the esoteric exorcism practices of impoverished agrarian peoples isn?t going to write itself, and I seriously doubt that Mistress Lillura will accept it late with an excuse of ?I decided to go stare at the sky.??

It came out sounding much more spiteful than she intended, delivered with the force of frustration that had been amassing for months. Immediately, Quillyan?s features softened as her remorse chased the silence. It was a beautiful afternoon. The early summer sun illuminated dusty hallways with such euphoria that it lent the foreboding space an impression of church-like sacredness. It was breathtakingly strange and wonderful, yet she hadn?t even noticed, even after being told.

?You are unhappy, aren?t you?? Adina prompted gently.

?No, things are great.?

And they were - academically.

True, per Chancellor Deron?s ultimatum, she had been forced to forgo ascensions, watching jealously as gleeful peers donned the scarlet of apprentices, but this had some unforeseen positives. It seemed that the shame of her novitiate status was only allayed by besting every other challenge presented, not through innate ability or talent, but by a ceaseless, almost maniacal devotion to her studies. If she was smart before, she was brilliant now. Her instructors slowly surrendered their skepticism regarding her many schools of focus, and while she still officially donned the novice black and white, Quillyan had come to occupy a place of advancement outside of the Institute's typical ranks. New students regarded her with awe, while her old companions - well, she didn?t really know what they thought.

?You know, Quilly, at a certain point it stops making you better,? Adina observed gently, ?Knowing everything won?t help you if you can?t see anything. When was the last time you looked at the sky? Or went to get coffee or drinks with your Stormsabre housemates??

?A long time,? she admitted, swallowing to alleviate the sudden tightness in her throat. These things, her old friends, were more difficult and confusing than the demands of academia, and yet, a rush of longing squeezed at her heart, making her feel suddenly, uncomfortably vulnerable. ?I?ll, um, work on it.?

?It?ll make you a better sorceress,? Adina promised with a wink, before stepping backwards through the wall, her body melting into the stones and presumably emerging in the gardens beyond.

?Maybe,? Quillyan countered in a whisper to the empty corridor, and continued on to the library.

Callisto Fairbourne

Date: 2012-06-07 08:07 EST


This door hadn't seen use in months. Indeed, it had only ever been used by the Fairbourne students and their family in the generations since it had been installed in the school, though it's location was never truly fixed. Some days it opened into the Necromancy Annex, others into the Gardens of Shah. Today, it swung open for the first time in almost half a year, disgorging a furious Sorceress Fairbourne into the opulence of the SatyrKiss Lounge.

Late though the hour was, there were still some within the lounge, making the most of time away from studies in the relaxing luxury that their House could afford. Veronique, the scarlet-haired Overseer, was one, wrapped languidly around her newest prospective initiate, only to look up in dull-eyed surprise at the sight of her long-time confidante's blazing entrance.

It wasn't just the fury in Callisto that drew the eye, though. It was the dress. It couldn't be mistaken for anything but what it was - a bridal gown of rough silk and exquisitely cut lace, the skirt full and flouncing with each stride she took. The back of it hung open beneath her dark hair's sway; her hands clenched in the folds of the skirt not hidden enough to disguise the new glimmer of antique diamond on her left hand.

The marriage she had been so set against had plainly taken place, and within hours, the rumor would be rife that she had either killed her husband when he attempted the consummation, or abandoned him afterward. No one even considered that she might have allowed it to happen - Callisto Fairbourne was not known for giving away even the appearance of power, much less allowing herself to be used in the way of a wife. Even in her seductions, she always held the high ground, the position of power, as several of the student body could attest.

As the portal to Castle Fairbourne slammed shut, the younger necromantic illusionist swept through the SatyrKiss Lounge, fairly crackling with incandescent fury. It would take a brave soul to challenge her at this moment, and not even Veronique was that brave. If Callisto was showing her fury, it must have been quite the trying day.

Inside, Callisto was seething. How dare he? Even if she did actually want him - which, to her mind, was unusual enough in itself to warrant kid gloves - how dare he presume to try and tup her like a common whore? On the flagstones outside her own parents' apartments, no less! And despite having regained his senses before he could take full advantage, then to berate and lecture her when he was the one who ... when she ... they weren't ... The sorceress let out a low shriek of anger, startling several in the chambers she was sweeping past. She couldn't even come up with a reason in her own mind as to why she had not allowed her husband to consummate their marriage.

But then ... ever since they had become reacquainted in the autumn, Lancelot Mortlock had confused her. He was at the same time still the arrogant, annoying child she had known, and yet a warrior full-grown, handsome and sure of himself. He was her opposite in every way a warrior could counter a mage, yet when set against one another, they were equals. They balanced one another out; she was in no way guaranteed a victory against him. It was that sense of equality, wrapped in the handsome face and body, the confident attitude, that drew her to him, she knew. She wanted the man who was now her husband, despite not actually liking him, not even knowing him.

And that made her angry. In the years since she had developed the means to get what she wanted by use of her own self, her own wiles, she had never truly wanted anyone. She had never felt the weakness of wanting to surrender completely, to give in and stop fighting, even for a moment, certain that her dearly beloved had somehow managed to cheat her nature. She didn't know how he had done it, how he had made her this weak. For a moment, there on the flagstones, she would have allowed him anything, even that supreme humiliation. It was lucky for him that he had regained himself - he would not have survived her temper in the aftermath.

She strode into Anise Wing, her long-accustomed quarters here at the Institute, ignoring the surprised looks from her fellows who shared the wing itself, and burst into her own rooms, sealing the door behind her with the usual and blessedly familiar array of wards and charms. No one was ever going to see that dress, or that outpouring of emotion, ever again. When Callisto Fairbourne re-emerged, she would be as they all remembered her, with one slight difference ... a hated diamond ring to encircle her left ring-finger, declaring that in name at least she now belonged to one man alone.

Amadeus

Date: 2012-06-07 13:21 EST
Most nights Amadeus spent alone. He preferred the comfort to his own room to anywhere else in the Institute and so whenever his roommate was not there to make use of it the novice spent as much time there as he could. It was usually in the dark and huddled on the floor amidst a circle of tomes and drawings in chalk on the walls and ground. Candles flickered in key points of the room but never gave off more than a tiny globe of light. He was able to read purely through a spell he?d learned that altered the amount of light his eyes took in and helped them act in the same reflecting manner that a cat?s eyes do. He?d gotten very good at this particular spell.

On one evening worth note he did more than simply study in his room in the dark. The floor was notably bare of books and covered with the lines and runes of a summoning circle. Everyone else in the school had a familiar and Amadeus thought it was long past due that he found one for himself as well. In the heart of the circle there sat a tiny wooden bowl full of a powder, the dried leaves of a plant and a moonstone. He held his hand above the bowl and brought a thin bladed knife up to bear to close his fingers around the slender blade as he cut. A line of red trickled down the knife and onto his fingers and more dripped down into the bowl to paint the stone that sat atop the powder and leaves. He tossed the knife aside and wrapped his hand in a strip of cloth before snapping his fingers and slapping his hands together.

Amadeus? lips moved to utter the quiet words of power in the language he?d slowly learned throughout his first few months at the Institute. It was a thick tongue full of hard consonants and complicated letter combinations that sounded harsh and guttural at times, most would attribute it to some abyssal language. The came to life lanced along the lines of the circle he?d drawn and rose high to surround him in the threatening heat of red, waving tongues. The last ingredients came in a small pouch. He upended it over the bowl and five finger bones came tumbling out to land in the bowl followed by a thick and dark powder that settled over all the items and hid them from view. As the incantation progressed a small, yellow flame sprang to life on the contents of the bowl and grew hotter and more vibrant with each syllable that was uttered.

The fires around him were swept away under the sudden gale of a furious wind and a deafening crack split the air to announce a tear between planes. Over the bowl an opening had appeared leading to a place so black that the spell that allowed him sight could not penetrate the darkness. From the portal came a slender arm ended with a bony, clawed hand that scraped the ground and left long, thin gouges in the floor as it crawled from the black pit. When at last the creature was free of its infernal home it set its malicious, yellow eyes on the novice and showed a grin full of long, white razor teeth. It was roughly two feet tall with a body that looked like the wind might blow it away, its skin was black and mottled and its head possessed a long pointed chin and three pairs of horns. Small wings stood out from its back in the likeness of a bat?s and he was perpetually hunched over a pair of legs that were long and bony with its too-long arms reaching down to let its fingers scrape along the floor.

?Gorkul,? it was strange how Amadeus found it so difficult to speak with his fellow students but could possess a commanding voice when dealing with a creature from another plane of existence. ?With my blood I bind you to me. From now until I die or release you, you are my familiar and my servant. What say you??

The small demon snorted and spoke with a shrill voice as he sized the novice up. ?Does the mageling think he can control a demon? Does he think he?s strong enough to hold Gorkul? Gorkul will show the mageling how very wrong he is, stupid foolish boy.?

Amadeus

Date: 2012-06-08 15:13 EST
?Gorkul?s master is truly a cruel and malicious one,? the imp whined as he hovered alongside Amadeus, who was standing in the middle of a dimly lit room with a book hovering in the air before him. ?Not even the balor were as cruel to Gorkul as his master is. Why, master, why? Why are you so cruel to poor Gorkul??

?That?s enough,? Amadeus snapped, batting the imp away with the back of his hand. ?Be silent, Gorkul. I?m practicing.?

?Oh, practicing is what he calls it? Gorkul calls it torture to listen to that tongue spoken so wretchedly. Gorkul doesn?t know how his master was able to summon him if this is how he says his incantations,? the imp turned and hovered erratically across the room, waving his spindly little arms around as he spoke. ?And his gestures. All wrong. All wrong. Does the mageling even know what he?s doing? Gorkul thinks not.?

With a snarl Amadeus turned his attention from the book to the chattering demon and with a snap of his fingers and a single word of command the imp?s lips were sealed shut. His bright yellow eyes widened in shock and immediately the wretched creature fell with a thump to the floor to roll around thrashing and trying to pry his thin lips apart. Amadeus rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers again to release the spell. ?Now then, Gorkul. Will you be quiet and let me practice or will I have your tongue next time??

?Oh, Gorkul?s master is truly a powerful sorcerer. Yes yes. Gorkul knows his place now,? the imp assured him with a mischievous smirk and a series of short bows before taking flight again to come and hover behind Amadeus.

The novitiate nodded and turned his attention to the tome hovering in the air before him, reading the instructions carefully before turning to face the open space to his left with his arms stretched wide. He spoke a word much more draconic in origin than most of the spells he?d been practicing and followed it with a flick of his wrist outward. Fire lanced from the tips of his fingers in thin, white hot tendrils that coiled around one another into a solid whip of flames. He snapped it left and it lashed out across the room, scarring the walls with black scorch marks. He spoke another word of command and the end split off into six sections.

As time ticked by he spoke more and more words of power to alter the shape and properties of the magical whip at his disposal until at last, he flicked his wrist again and spoke with a definite air a command that had the length of energy dissipating in the air to leave them in the gloom once more. He dusted the soot from his hands onto his pants and grabbed the book from the air to tuck it beneath his arm, turning to face his small, abyssal servant.

?Is Gorkul satisfied??

?Maybe if the mageling had a lightning sword Gorkul would be more afraid. Balor use whips of fire on poor Gorkul, their sting is like home to him now. Gorkul is not impressed.?

With Wicked Intent

Date: 2012-12-02 03:04 EST
Dianthus Wing

The sharp CRACK! of air being displaced would, at this late hour, go unnoticed by the rest of the wing. Most likely, anyway.

Not that he cared. He was here to pick up a few things, to clear this institute of his presence within it.

For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of letting his silvery-blue gaze drift over the common room of Dianthus Wing, a faint smile tugging at his features. He'd forgotten how nice it was here, even if he hadn't liked it much. Still, he'd had a bit of fun here. Mostly at the expense of others.

Finally he turned and headed for his old apartments, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that his door wards were still in place and holding strong. He hadn't been back since his little hiatus from this world, and his subsequent acceptance of a teaching position at his cousin's school.

And now?

Well, for now and for the immediate future, he had a Tower on the Twilight Isle.

In his opinion, having come so far since his arrival in Rhy'din, he'd outgrown this place, had moved beyond the Institute.

Still, he held a little fondness for the place. Besides, there were a few things he had here he didn't want to leave behind.

The uniforms he'd acquired from the school were left neatly laid on the bed. The circles he'd magically carved into the floor were cleaned up, the various items enchanted to send any silly, curious individuals who made it past the door wards off to some random part of the planet wiped free of the lingering spellwork.

By the time he was done, he had his cloak, his wand Styx, and the spellbook, and the room was almost just as it was when he arrived.

He was about to turn to go when a gleam of metal off of a pin caught his eye, and he moved to pick it up.

His SatyrKiss pin.

A grin tugged at his features as he recalled the night he got it, and without hesitation he slipped it into a pocket. Some things, some connections, it was a good idea to hold onto.

He headed to the door, pausing only just inside the entrance to magically wipe away the scrolling Greek letters that had been part of his door wards.

The young demigod stepped out into the common room of Dianthus wing again, pausing just long enough to take one last look around.

"So long, I.A.P. It was fun while it lasted."

And with another sharp CRACK! of displaced air, the Bastard Son of Hades left the Institute behind.