And finally the news began to filter throughout the school...ViperFang was finally ready to host their infamous Masquerade Ball.

Formerly closed to outsiders (unless as the date of a ViperFang member), this year they were opening the darkly exclusive ViperFang Ballroom to all students of the Institute.


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A Dress Fitting in Lilium

?Julianna, you?ve outdone yourself,? came Bryn?s delighted purr, a genuine awe leaving her tempting lips gaping at the conclusion of her praise. The Apprentice stood on a small pedestal before a trio of mirrors, unfeeling eyes fixed in appreciation upon the gown created for the occasion of the ViperFang Masquerade. As the aging seamstress knelt near her feet, pinning the hem of diaphanous petals, Bryn?s cold eyes watched the mirror?s mimic of her fingertips as they traced the pale pink lace of her boned bodice, tripping over the pearls and jewels dotting the provocative curves of her small, tightly-bound breasts. ?It?s perfect.?

?Why thank you, Miss Barron,? the seamstress replied, blinking repeatedly as she worked with the remarkably intricate detailing of the dress. ?A hundred hours and five fittings it took, but now it?s done in plenty of time for your party.?

The woman, burdened by the weight of many years, rose slowly and stepped back, her skillful eye assessing every aspect of the extravagant garment. Bryn, meanwhile, was as still as a portrait, the set of her brow and lips arranged in sultry delight as she continued to study her striking reflection in the gilded mirrors.

?There?s nothing left to do, my girl,? the seamstress sighed happily, content that her toil was complete, ?except hang it very carefully and wait for Saturday.?

?You?ve done a beautiful job. I?ll make sure your payment reflects that.?

?That?s very kind,? the woman replied. ?Here, let me help you take it off,? she offered, her hands moving to loosen the corset-style lacing on the back of the gown.

?That won?t be necessary,? intruded a male voice, the accent?s chilly refinement leaving little question as to the speaker. ?I?ll assist her.? Cinder stepped soundlessly through the door to Bryn's private quarters, his hands clasped with stately elegance behind his back.

The young necromancer's eyes followed him in the mirror, her prior pleasure succumbing to some darker sentiment, something that challenged her nearly insurmountable chill. Also within the glass, the seamstress met her gaze in silent protest, but she assented to Cinder?s request with a barely-perceptible nod. When she found her voice, it was gentle and without inflection: ?Julianna, you may go.?

?As you wish, Miss Barron.? It took only a minute for the woman to gather her essential tools and excuse herself, but those seconds were tinged with mysterious and compelling agony, the eyes of the two students locked relentlessly in reflection.

When the door shut behind the seamstress, the vampire?s refined and unhurried stride brought him to hover behind the extravagantly-adorned apprentice.

?What are you doing, Cinder?? she asked, her chin dipping slightly, her eyes torn momentarily from the mirror, hiding behind the veil of those long lashes. His hands brushed against the small of her back as they disturbed the corset laces.

?Just as I said I would do: I?m helping you undress.?

Inhumanly-strong fingers gripped the sturdy feminine laces, but instead of loosening them, he pulled them tighter - and tighter, and tighter, forcing the bodice to constrict painfully around her ribs and breasts, squeezing the breath from her lungs. A surprised and defiant whimper rode upon her shallow gasp, shock sweeping her features as she again met his eyes in the mirror, trembling now, struggling to draw a proper breath in tiny, jerking gasps.

And in the otherwise empty void of her gray eyes, passionate suffering bloomed, lively and wild, effecting an exquisitely-inelegant vulnerability.

Seeing this, the vampire leaned very close, his head dipping to position his lips immediately to the necromancer?s ear, his gaze washing appreciatively over petite breasts, achingly-constricted by the cruel corset, the young, firm flesh swelling generously over the low neckline. When he spoke, his breath was neither warm nor cold, merely melodic syllables sensually vibrating upon a perfectly-frail shell: ?Did you tell Iameth about what happened after your picnic??

Dizziness corrupted her vision, spinning the trio of reflections and granting a perilous sway to her figure, held firmly upon the pedestal by Cinder?s grip on her garment. Lips, parted in futile gasps and swollen by a rush of passion - fear, lust, and other unspeakable emotions - managed to mouth a response, the silent reply emphasized by a frantic shake of her head.

?What?s that?? Cinder goaded her with icy detachment, subtly increasing the pressure.

?No,? Bryn managed in a whimpering whisper, shimmering darkness edging her vision.

The Mage released the tension on the corset laces, one arm curling around her frightfully-brief middle to keep her from collapsing as she began to greedily suck small, panicked breaths. Even as she slumped against him in relieved exhaustion, his fingers were busy loosening the gown, gradually peeling the fine lace from the pale flesh beneath. ?Then how was he able to mention it to me yesterday??

?I don?t know,? she replied between trembling, grateful breaths, her eyes closed as she waited for the dizziness to recede.

When the bodice was completely unlaced and the girl had regained some of her shattered composure, steel-strong hands upon her sharp hips guided her to face the darkly-tranquil intruder. With the return of her control, the spark of life was already draining from her eyes, leaving them still and vacant. He lifted the dress, the magnificent creation of pearls and beads, lace and jewels, layers upon layers, over her head and retreated to lay it, with little ceremony, across a nearby chair.

Cinder looked back, calmly assessing his fellow ViperFang, naked save for damp lace panties, silk stockings, and impressive heels, the arms shielding her bare breasts more for chill than modesty. He was pleased with her - with her answers, her appearance, her manner - though this manifest in his smooth features as mere neutrality.

As he turned toward the door, he offered one final glance in her direction, his visage in profile as he spoke, softly, ?It is a lovely dress, my dear.?

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{The Infirmary}

"Do you know what it was, Apprentice Sepherock?" Ashriel asked as he examined the deep wound gashed in Albion's slender chest, his large hand easily gripping the transmuter's sharp and naked shoulder.

"I don't." Albion admitted before quickly adding. "Though before I came here I referenced several texts I have and narrowed it down to two possibilities. A soul serpent: a rather nasty reptile native to the underworld, or a..." He paused, wincing as the Sorcerer pushed two hard fingers along the rim of the wound. "...that hurts."

"It should. It's deep. Real deep."

"Can you mend it?"

"I can." Ashriel said with a nod. "Though you'll be confined to bed-rest for at least two days."

Albion weighted the options carefully and then slid from the bed, slight fingers quickly fastening the buttons along his shirt. "I see. Well thank you Sorcerer, I appreciate all your-"

"What are you doing?"

That thick hood of crimson swept back and forth in waves as he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but being bedridden for forty-eight hours is comparable to a vacation in Nessus, the ninth layer of Baator. I have studying to do."
Ashriel turned away and moved to the tray of instruments he had prepared. "Have it your way."

"Thank you for your concern, Sorcerer." Albion's smile was thin and quotidian, a routine gesture that was quickly followed by a focused departure.

Ashriel watched as the young magician left, a small smirk finding his lips. Had Albion shown any sort of fierceness through his first few years at the Institute he would have been an impeccable fit for House Viperfang based on potential alone, though ultimately his love for knowledge outweighed his love for ascension, and this lack of ferocity cost him the votes. It was a pity. The boy would be great.

"Agreed."

The antiquated voice, refined and familiar, did not startle Ashriel. The sorcerer had grown accustom to the sudden appearances of Cinder Havenloche years ago. "Agreed?"

"About Sepherock." The vampire explained as he stepped from the shadows, careful to keep away from the thin shaft of sunlight that bled in through the panel on the ceiling. Though the infirmary was in the lower bowels of the building, there was still one gap from top to bottom to allow in the light. "He would have been good."

"It's not advisable to read my thoughts, Cinder." Ashriel said as he replaced the medical instruments. "I'm not the only one lurking around in there."

"That is actually why I'm here, Overseer. We need to talk." He paused, the silence adding weight to his further explanation. "About Iameth."

"Of all the subjects I would like to converse with you about, Lord Havenloche, he is not one of them." Ashriel's frustration stemmed in the form of a sigh, though that did not keep him from turning back to face the Mage. "How was your trip to the shadow realm?"

"Eventful."

"I can imagine." His smirk was short-lived as the earnestness in Cinder's grim eyes showed that the vampire was not ready to surrender his original topic of conversation. "Alright, so talk to me about Iameth."

"I am concerned about the Masquerade ball this weekend. When last I spoke with Iameth I got the sense that there was something awry. He seemed to be scheming. More than usual."

"Iameth is always scheming."

"Agreed. However, considering this is the first year we have opened up the ball to the entire student body, I doubt you want any plotting that could take away from the mystique of the House. We've already shown strength through unity by accepting the aid of that ...earth whore...from Stormsabre."

The way the Vampire addressed Vliss Arcanum had the Overseer chuckling. "Your disdain for the terran has been noted." He folded his arms across his chest; overlapping forearms cradling the wide span of robed pectorals. "Though I see your point. If Iameth is planning something then we need to make sure that we have safeguards in place."

"Your command?"

"First and foremost, try and find out exactly what it is that Iameth is planning."

"Forgive me, Overseer, but your infernal counterpart is rather elusive when it comes to supplying me with such details."

"Perhaps to you, Cinder." Ashriel countered, heavenly eyes tracing him from head to toe. "But only because you lack the necessary attributes to get him to open his mouth."

It took Cinder a moment to wrap his head around the suggestion. "Ah, a female."

"Secondly. We need to show a greater sense of unification so that, if anything happens, we appear to be in the clear." There was a glimmer of cleverness in his gaze as he stepped away from his lean. "And I have just the thing. I'll only be able to attend for the very opening ceremonies. After that the sun will have gone down and Iameth will return. So, during this time, I'll need an escort."

"Chika?" Cinder presumed.

"Oh no," Ashriel answered with a spreading grin. "Fleur."




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Nathilium Wing

"It is a travesty." Thea hissed and in her rage lashed out in the direction of her sister. The slap when it descended was sharp and decisive.

Nemese hissed in a breath but gave no other sound of dismay as the stinging sharpness of that cracking palm found her cheek.

"You should've stood your ground. Demanded that you not be punished for your success. Everybody knows that you acquitted yourself brilliantly and here you are stuffed in a room with such riff raff." She sniffed as a trembling beset her that sent the powdered wig atop her head shivering in response.

"Yes, I should have." Nemese kept the quaver from her voice as she tried not to focus on the burning pain that still scorched her cheek. A twitch beset her eye and she fought to keep it under control. Even as she questioned just what exactly Thea had expected her to do about the new room assignments seeing as how she had done nothing to protest the move herself.

"We are Pausanias. Our family has graced these halls, not these halls, but more Hallowed Halls---" As Thea's creaky voice rose in a rasping rant that Nemese was a thousand times familiar with she felt her mind wandering.

The Shadow realm expedition was the first time Nemese had been away from her sister and truly on her own. The success of the endeavor left her flushed with a unique sensation she'd never experienced before: Pride.

As her sister continued on, her carping on tradition had moved on toward the target of her current wrath.

"I have no idea what Ashriel is thinking, opening the Masquerade up to the general populace. I'm positive his predecessor is rolling in his grave at the thought of such a break with the way things are done."

Nemese ventured, "I think it's a good idea."

The look leveled upon her squelched that rare surge of pride and she fought not to shrink back beneath the disdainful sneer.

"You would. For you have no backbone, you spineless fool. You would allow centuries and traditions to dry up and disappear as you foolishly stood beneath the spit and drivel of innovation."

Nemese felt the dry heave wrench her frail frame as she sought to stand beneath the fierce disgust and wrathful approach of her sister. The blow when it came was a cuff to her injured cheek and she bit down upon her lip to keep her plaintive whimper from becoming a true cry.

As Thea launched into yet another hissing lecture on the need for customs, Nemese could not help but compare her previous words. The only thing that appeared to be dried up and dessicated was her sister.

She wondered, not for the first time, how her sister would've survived the challenge in the Shadow Realm. Would she have risen to the challenge? Or would she have fallen in petrification at being forced to do something new...? "I think it will been as weakness if we do not attend." Nemese boldly stated, buoyed by her strange sentiment of her sister's perceived strengths.

Drawing up, Thea peered down her beak like nose upon Nemese, silenced for a long icy moment.

Whether it was her sister's surprising disagreement, or the desire she possessed to see inside the ViperFang ballroom, the words, when they came, choked out weakly:

"Perhaps you are right in this."

The words startled Nemese from her cower.

Thea moved to her closet and pulled out an ancient and faded black gown. Casting a considering eye toward her little sister, "Do you possess anything suitable?"

The frail figure of the fragile Nemese was drawn into a surprisingly upright position and despite the gleaming crimson of her pale cheek she appeared frighteningly regal, "I have just the thing," she said simply.


The GorgonHorn Sisters were going to the Ball.

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"Our first is in gorgon, but never in horn ..." Leda murmured to herself as she scratched the ears of her great jaguar companion, seated comfortably on the floor in front of the fire blazing in the hearth.

Despite numerous complaints from the elder Pausanias, whose room backed directly onto hers, the half-breed consistently lit a fire when she was in her own room - the heat was a gentle reminder of Pandemonium, the level of Hell she would always consider to be her home. The riddle note was gripped in her hand as she spent this little time bonding with Mogadon, the keen mind mentioned in the verses set to deciphering the clues.

"In gorgon, but not in horn ... G, it has to be G, right?" She looked down at the jaguar, who yawned and rolled onto his back. Her hand obligingly travelled down to scratch his belly. "Our second not twilight, but always in morn ... GM ... GO ... GR ... GN ... GO or GR, I think. Next line - Our third still is shared, the first of an ape. First of an ape? A! GOA or GRA. Hmmm ..."

She nibbled at her fingertip as she studied the verse in front of her. Two names, and this was where the riddle diverged to give clues to both. The first fourth in evil, the second in nap ... GOAV? GRAI? GRAN? A sudden flash of intuition came to her as she realised which names she was looking for. A sultry grin settled over her features. Grail and Grant.

"Well, now ... that is interesting, isn't it, Mogs?" So the ViperFang duo were responsible for her hour of debauchery in the cellars, were they? And everyone said they never sought out lovers outside the boundaries of their House. Very interesting.

"Slave."

She looked up, distaste clear in her expression at the sight of Tutori Silvestri standing in her doorway. She had no dealings with him, but he was one of SatyrKiss' group, automatically her enemy after the behaviour of their Overseer.

"Get out," she hissed, rising to her feet. Beside her, Mogadon fell into a protective crouch, his teeth bared as he growled threateningly at the intruder.

One aristocratic brow arched at the hostile reaction, but Tutori was well aware of what had been happening while most of the House were away. Not the way he would have done it, nor indeed in Emilina's line, but it had been done, nonetheless. He drew in a slow breath, inclining his head to the bristling half-breed and her familiar.

"It gives me no pleasure to be in your presence," he assured her. "There are a group of Vaden here with orders to deliver something to you. I trust you will take it before Thea decides to blast them all into oblivion?"

Leda frowned, her brow creasing with confused irritation. Vaden, with a delivery for her? Who in the blazing hells would be sending anything to her? Was this another SatyrKiss trap?

"Move out of the way, then," was all she said to the mage at her door, and to her surprise, he did just that, returning to his own studies in his own room as a small procession of Vaden scurried in through the doorway.

They bore with them a soft, silk-wrapped package, and two smaller boxes, all of which were left on the bed under the watchful eyes of Mogadon. The jaguar did not trust the Vaden at all, always happy to pounce at them to send them scurrying away at high speed ... just as he did now.

Her curiosity piqued, Leda undid the packages, staring in surprise at what she found there. But who could have sent them? There was no note, no token to identify the gift giver. She highly doubted her encounter of the day before could have been so earth-shattering that she warranted such generosity from the ViperFang apprentices; a sweeping check of the cloth and sundries revealed no curses nor enchantments, discounting any of SatyrKiss as her benefactor. GorgonHorn was strictly under Thea's control, and that wizened harpy couldn't stand Leda, so there was no chance of them having been so generous. Which left StormSabre, of whom she knew a few by name but not well enough to warrant this, and the un-Housed. It was another mystery, and one that would plague her for days, no doubt.

Obviously sent by someone who knew she had nothing appropriate to wear to the masquerade - that, indeed, she had not planned to go because of this fact - there lay in front of her, nestled in silk, a gown of columned, flowing cut, sparkling white, the decorative touches formed of gold and copper threads. Beside it lay a mask to match the gown, again sparkling white, to be tied into place with silver ribbons. And the third box proved that whoever had sent these gifts knew her preferences to some degree ... jewels to decorate her bare feet.

"Well, Mog," she murmured, lifting the gown from the black silk and holding it up to herself as the jaguar prowled, sniffing at the offerings curiously, "it looks as though I am going to the ball."
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Jacen's ViperFang Masquerade Ball getup. Yes, that sword is coming with him - not only is it part of the getup, but he feels it would be best to go to any function hosted by ViperFang armed.

Saphira and Kish's costumes

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The glowing flower outside her door gave her pause. Class had ended moments earlier and she wondered if some enterprising young novitiate had left her a sign of his admiration. As she paused before its gorgeous flames the deft touch of a magic revealed that this was assuredly not some simple or hasty spell.

She hesitated.

As Overseer of the newest House Fleur was fast learning that appearances could be extremely deceiving. An abjuration spell was easily woven to sweep up the flower and carry it along with her in a gloating crystalline globe of magic.

When she encountered the next flower along her path she added it to the first.

And the next.

And the one after that.

Rounding the corner, her vividly expressive mouth curved into a playful smile, the full lower lip giving her a delectable pout that begged for attention.

Of course, that same mouth gave her surprise away when she found Ashriel at the end of the trail. Holding one of the very blooms she was collecting, his feathery wings held elegantly back to drift along the sturdy set of his shoulders.

She tried to scowl.

"Have you been avoiding me, Mistress Rousseau?" His celestial voice drew that scowl darker as she resisted it.

"Yes."

He looked genuinely hurt by her blunt response and she found herself wishing she'd painted it prettier, but she was not deceptive by nature, unlike his brethren.

A fact she needed to continuously remind herself of. This was the Overseer of Viperfang and she'd be a fool to forget that fact.


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

She frowned at the image reflected in the mirror before her. The gown was exquisite and painted her body with a lover's caress of violet sheer hues. How had she come to agree to this? Ashriel's date for the evening. She thought back over the lunch they'd shared and tried to pinpoint the exact moment she'd lost control of the conversation. Had it been the wounded look in his eye as her wariness remained unabated? Or had it been his assurance that this was simply to be an exhibition of the combined strength of the Houses and that Thea and Veronique would be there with him as well?

Either way, as she placed the finishing touches on the looping coils of her buttery soft hair she couldn't contain a frown. The last minute assignment for Brais was even more circumspect. He had shared her suspicion but had encouraged her attendance.

Sliding her feet in the matched heels she took a deep breath, wondering for the thousandth time if she was making the right choice.

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(as an aside for Rping purposes: Felix Foster nor Brais Galician will be in attendance this evening. They are tasked with the final restoration of components in Ulyssa Mistmark's lab).

She'd be attending with Grail. And she hoped like hell she'd manage to pull this whole thing off.
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((Due to the fact I had to work and missed the live RP, I would appreciate being allowed to post in the thread with updates PM'd to me that i might need to post correctly seeing as there was a plot I was supposed to be part of and would like to go through with. Thanks for your patience))

Kish and Saphira arrived to the ball fashionably late, dressed to the nines in matching costumes. Saphira had even forgone her fur for the event for the most part, though a light white fuzz still hid the burn scars on her body it was short and fine enough to pass as very pale flesh until one got very close. Kish led her into the ballroom as though they were royalty, fitting since their garb was that of ice fairy King and Queen. Saphira could not help but smile, this being the first social event like this she had ever attended. She felt wonderful, and as she was led through the crowd of peers and strangers alike felt a flutter as heads turned toward them, murmuring appreciation and awe for the creative garb the couple wore. It was of course obvious who they were, due to Saphira's unique feature of even scant fur and snowy hair. Even Lune was in attendance, his feathers enchanted to look as though frosted over, glittering icily in the light.

Lune perched upon a special band on Saphira's shoulder to avoid his talons scoring her flesh. Though she healed remarkably, she did not desire for her dress to be bloodstained so this was a measure in practicality. Music drifted through the air as those around them mingled happily chattering and some dancing. Kish looked at her with a smile. "You know, Saph I think you are the most beautiful woman here." Looking around a moment. The other costumes were impressive of course but perhaps it was his love that biased him, for in his eyes they paled in comparison. Saphira blushed before stealing a kiss. "Flatterer." But she was pleased. When the music turned to a waltz he offered his hand to her, leading her to the dance floor when she accepted.

They moved to the dance floor, and as the dance began So did they. Kish was a surprisingly good dancer, and Saphira moved and glided along with him gracefully as any fairy. They moved lightly together whirling and gliding as though two bubbles riding a gentle wind, together lost in the dance and one another. Kish had attended events like this before but this was the first Time Saphira had ever danced in public. Such was her grace that any onlookers would perhaps pause in admiration, and several did, one couple even forgetting they were dancing and there was a startled cry as someone's foot was stepped on out of distraction. As they moved a low mist moved around their feet tendrils twining around them occasionally completing the effect.

When at last the music changed to something a bit more lively Kish took her hand leading her to the refreshment table. "You want a drink?" Beaming proudly at her as she nodded. "Yes, thank you," Then with a giggle. "M'lord." Kish chuckled and bowed to her with a sweep of his arm. "But of course, my lady, it is my pleasure." It was only seconds before they were both laughing. Drinks in hand, they moved a bit apart from the main throng to watch a little while and perhaps speak with other attendees.

((Feel free to interact through posting here with them please!))

Part Two - Gambits and Geas

"Isabel!" He snarled upon his hands and knees, claws raking lines across the floorboards as muscle tensed form the assault. "Help me."

"Help you?" Her tone sounded as though the suggestion was the most impotent request ever made. "Why would I go through setting up this entire ordeal only to help you out of it?"

The pain had Iameth's mind reeling, though her words were not missed. With narrowed eyes of pupiless purple he glowered at her. "You would do this to me?"

"Ten times over, Sorcerer." Her lovely eyes disengaged from the sight of the prone fiend, moving to one of the small braziers positioned not far from her. Then to another. Then to another. Each of them positioned inconspicuously amongst the decorations of the room to hide the magic circle they formed. "...and more."

"You're mad!" He snapped. Straining, he reached his clawed hand toward her and started to cast. Verbal components were nullified by the intense agony which left him unable to articulate the proper incantation, but there were many spells within his repertoire that did not require his voice. He felt the surge of arcana build within his grasp, forming a glow around his outstretched digits that would, when released, obliterate the mere novice. "And now you're dead."

"Would you like me to beg for my life?" She asked with a tone that showed no worry as to the outcome of his magic.

"No." He hissed. "Just die." With her easily targeted he unleashed the power...

...and it dissolved the moment it left his hand.

In disbelief Iameth stared at his hand as though it had somehow betrayed him and then slowly inclined his gaze to meet the haughty eyes of Isabel. "What have you done?!" The outrage triggered the circle that imprisoned him, infusing him with another bout of mindless suffering. He dropped to his hands and knees at first, but as the torment stole more and more of his strength he collapsed onto his shoulder.

"Fascinating, isn't it? A magic circle. Within its lines it creates a temporal cage that is the bane to infernal creatures native to the outerplanes." She fended off the amusement the sight of his peril wrought. "Creatures like you. The dispelling magic was my own contribution. I figured with how weak the circle would make you I'd have a chance of countering your spells with my most powerful charm. While it might not be a direct assault on you, Sorcerer, it seems to be limiting your options rather nicely."

He gathered as much strength as he could, deciding to forego the effort it took to fight off the power of the circle and instead simply endure it. The less he fought, the less pain he had to manage. "You are...not strong enough...to make circles." The heavy labor of his breath allowed for limited dialogue.

"Very true." She said as she started along the edge of the ring, careful to keep from stepping inside of it. "Though I had some help. You'd be surprised as to how many enemies you have acquired over the years."

He forced his breathing to subside to alleviate the pain, peering at her through the mass of thick black hair that chaotically covered his face.

"Who?" She asked, speculating as to his next question. "Well, I'd make you guess but in your current condition that could take a while, so instead I'll just tell you." She paused for just a moment to let the tension build before slowly her pretty lips split into a wide smile. "Sorceress Veronique."

"Bitch."

Her laughter was mirthful and dark. "Now, of course I couldn't let her know the real reason as to why I needed the braziers imbued. Instead I told her that I needed them to impress Master Mos'em with a summoning I wanted to attempt. She believed me, mostly because she wanted me to join her house." Her path along the circle suddenly stopped as she turned to face him. "But I declined because I was promised a spot in another house, wasn't I, Sorcerer? I was promised a spot inside of the IAP's most Prestigious House, so I shunned all the other offers.

"So many nights of traipsing around on your arm and at your heels, suffering from the looks of the other students who condemned me for being so desperate and pathetic. But I didn't care. I wanted to be a part of Viperfang. I wanted to be part of the elite. I wanted it so bad that I would do anything for it." Those soft features hardened as though freezing in place, her scowl heavy and menacing. "But you know that already, don't you? Considering all of the things I did with you...all of the things I let you do to me...I proved my devotion. Constantly. And so did..." Her voice quivered and she swallowed back the swelling sob. "...and so did Arabel."

Iameth was no longer looking at her, but instead focusing on his own internal prowess. The binds of the circle had him and there was little he could do. Normally he was much more cognizant of such trappings, though the appearance of Isabel had diverted him from suspicion. He'd underestimated her, though the scheming she displayed throughout this entire scenario had him actually contemplating a genuine offer for her to join the House...that is, if he weren't going to kill her the first chance he got.

"You couldn't have cared less." She said as she resumed her travel. "About me and my sister. You proved that over and over again by all the sick things you made us do. She was my sister, Sorcerer, and while we were close, we were never intended to be as close as you made us. I should have known, though. You did nothing when she was murdered to extract revenge on those responsible. You did nothing to celebrate her as a wizard or mourn her once deceased. You just carried on like nothing had ever happened. Like she...like we...weren't even worth your time. You turned my whole world up-side-down, Iameth. And now I've done the same to you." With the circuit complete she again turned her condemning gaze upon him. "How was your ball tonight, Sorcerer? Did you enjoy the wine?"

Part Four - Gambits and Geas

Glacial beauty dipped in red, the Overseer of House Satyrkiss made her way into the atrium accompanied by the menacing click of stiletto heels upon the floor. A gown of deep scarlet embraced the svelte curves of her tall and slender frame, desperately constricting along lush feminine planes. She moved to stand beside the paralyzed novitiate, though attention was solely upon the fiend imprisoned within the circle. "So what do you think, Iameth? Impressive?"

"Your handy work...is always ...inspiring." Again that pain was seeping into his chest, stealing his speech. "To what do I...owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I figured that our pretty little play thing here wasn't having me help just so she could succeed at an actual presentation. Naturally, Iameth, when one of your chew toys came to me with questions pertaining to trapping a demon, I sort of put two and two together."

"Bravo..."

"A rudimentary deduction, I assure you." Eyes shifted, that slicing stare of Veronique angled toward Isabel. "It's a pity, too. She was so...energetic." A stray lock of hair was brushed aside by the Overseer's manicured finger before she once again turned back to Iameth. "You're in quite the predicament, Sorcerer."

"So it would...seem." Again claws scraped the floor as he fought to maintain what little composure he had left. Head and shoulders were heavy beneath the potency of the imprisonment spell, though still he resisted.

"Indeed. You see, I could simply kill you. While you undoubtedly hoped that the novitiate would be ignorant enough to break the circle in an attempt to stab you to death, I would not be so careless. I could do so from here and rid this school...this world...of your intolerable existence. The best part, however, would be that I could do so in a fashion that would insinuate the novice as your murderer. You could be dead, she could be expelled, and I could return to managing my house with no qualm from Viperfang, which assuredly would fall into disarray as your nest of snakes sought to steal and backstab the reins of Overseer away from one another."

"Perhaps." Again that suffering began to swell within his veins, causing diabolical features to contort beneath the pressure of agony.

"Perhaps." She agreed. "Though that would not serve me nearly as well as keeping you alive. You see, I have use of you, Sorcerer. A task that I think you might find enjoyable."

His mirthless laughter rang throughout the atrium, dry and raspy. "If my service was all that you wanted, Overseer, such measures were unnecessary. I would be more than capable of seeing to any...needs...that you may have ." Stringing together so long a lecture caused his arms to buckle, which in turn lowered his head to the floorboards once again. Gathering strength while talking was proving to be impossible.

"Do not flatter yourself, Iameth. No, your service will come in a form that you are unaccustomed to: obedience. You will serve me in a particular manner that will require your unwavering dedication, which is ironic considering the maestro of this little scene." Veronique's step took her behind the frozen novitiate, where her lips softly found the slope of the young girls neck. Another step took her away, now on the other side of her. "You will be freed. You will resume your role as Sorcerer of House Viperfang. You will go about your everyday - or in your case, everynight - life as though this encounter never took place. Though a new motivation will fuel your fiendish impetus. From hence forth you will make a concerted effort into seeing to the failure and downfall of Emilina Berland, limiting none of your resources in this endeavor."

Measured breathes were sucked through clenched fangs, barely expanding the width of his chest with such blissful breath. "And...if I dont?"

"There is no if you don't, Sorcerer." Veronique quickly answered. "You'll either comply, or perish. Period."

Dying was not exactly an option Iameth considered. He'd agree to the terms she outlined, at least until he was far enough away to begin plotting against her. She'd gotten lucky, thanks to Isabel Hawthorne's impertinence, and was now using the circumstance as leverage. "Very well. I'll do it." Oh he'd agree to it, right up until the circle was disengaged. And then the blood of them both would paint the walls.

"Oh yes," She whispered as she began to cast. "Yes you will."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~

Eyes opened and breath was inhaled sharply, gasping as though he were recovering from drowning. Pupiless frames of lavender slashed across the room, searching for flesh to devour and blood to drain, but alas he was alone within his bedchamber.

Leaping to his feet, he stormed for the door, throwing it open while snagging a robe from the hook beside it. Donning it, he emerged within the common room of Laurus Wing with maddened eyes. Through the window he could see that night prevailed and from the looks of it he still had some time: an hour perhaps.

He couldn't recall returning to his wing and needed to find Cinder, if for no other reason than to help him diagnose what the Overseer of House Satyrkiss had done. He'd be damned if he'd be anyone's puppet, much less the ruler of a lesser house.

And yet, for some reason, there was a buried urge, a subtle inkling, to reach out to someone and extend an invitation to join House Viperfang. He didn't know why, or how, but suddenly he wished to don an advocate's mantle for a new constituent.

"Benedykt."


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