[Secyclion] She Will Present You with a Crown of Beauty

[Ministra]

There was something delightfully wrong about this blood. Not that Ministra was in any state to really question it. She needed to feed and she needed it right now or else things were going to turn ugly. Once the woman’s heart ceased to beat, she gently eased her fangs from her wrist, dotting the edges of her lips with her fingertips as if that was going to clean the rest of the gore from her countenance.

As Ophelia wobbled and stumbled, Mini felt a warmth spread through her, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced since she’d been alive. Contented, satisfied, dare she even think it: happy! And why shouldn’t she be? She’d overcome a murder house and become the hero of the day. She should take a little time and let her hair down, have some fun that she allowed herself to actually enjoy without that frown marring her pretty face the whole time. She deserved this.

A lopsided smile turned Pan’s way, the faint hint of adoration behind her gaze. Ophelia’s arms wrapped about her waist, asking if she was tired of Pan and Mini shook her head. ”Actually, I kinda like him,” she whispered not all that quietly because she wanted the man to know, too. He was exciting, powerful in the sort of way that Mini always seemed to be attracted to. She wouldn’t have minded sticking around and picking his brain and other things.

But Ophelia was sleepy and she was right, couldn’t let mother worry. The kiss was nice, too. Mini sighed into it, allowing the pleasure to stretch through her weary muscles and tingle all the way down to her bare toes. Twisting out of her aunt’s arms, she said, ”My loot!” and raced back to the table with a silly little grin as she hefted her things back into her grasp. ”Silly Mini, always so forgetful,” she lamented to Pan with a wink and little nip into the air. ”I’ll be seeing you later. Count on it.” Then she turned, counting to herself as she took her place at Ophelia's side. ”One, two, three…”

They walked through the door and into the pre-dawn air, Mini chattering away about her experiences that evening. ”And then I bashed that gruesome minotaur’s face in with a spiky club. Wasn’t about to let it kill me. Nu uh. No way. There’s only one man allowed to murder me and his name is most certainly not Lars.”

 

[Nimh]

Having left Pan's club, Mini had found herself staying not in some shabby little dive along the waterfront (or wherever it was she'd had plans to hole up) but rather in a very nice manor home in a beautiful section of Secyclion. She'd remember that was a bath in a beautifully large chamber tended to by pretty-looking serving woman who quietly attended to both her needs and Ophelia's by helping Mini wash off the gore while Ophelia just enjoyed a little pampering. The touching wasn't helping Ophelia's giggles and easy mood, though, since whatever the blonde had ingested that they had subsequently left them inclined towards being handsy.

Ophelia was thoroughly entranced by Mini's encounter with the House of Horrors but bizarrely cooperative owner and recounted her own experiences at the hands of Pan. The meanie really hadn't let her feed on the cutie she'd been working on earlier and some of his people had taken the opportunity to rough her up a little, which was really just rude. She'd gotten a few pot shots in herself but really was very displeased with the whole experience.

Mini was shown a room all her own--a well-acquitted guest chamber with a balcony over-looking the harbor and decorated in various hues of blues and golds. All the same, Ophelia had decided (probably mostly because of the drugs) that a snuggle partner was better than no snuggle partner at all and she burrowed in alongside Mini, playing with the elf's hair as she chatted herself to sleep.

Girl could talk.

Suns rose, suns set.

Ministra would find herself alone when she woke early the next evening, the chamber empty of Ophelia, who had apparently already risen for the night and gone about her business. Clothing had been laid out for Mini: fresh island garments to replace what had been torn and lost to the House of Horrors. The chiton was made of fine linen, fell in layers to her toes and left little to the imagination where she chest was concerned, the collar quite low, playful even. It had been dyed an exquisite crimson hue and edged in a broad ribbon of lacy gold. Golden plated fasteners pinched the fabric at the shoulders with a larger matching fastener that drew the fabric in about the waist, allowing for more of a silhouette rather frumpy layers of cloth. The black leather sandals--no stilettos here--were flat-footed by the leather thongs laced up the length of her calves and were visible to the eye only when she moved, the fabric swishing to reveal a slit in the fabric.

Ophelia breezed as Ministra was taking stock of the provided attire, brandishing a golden arm bangle and matching hairpin. "Ooh! You're awake! I was so excited to get something put together for you. Something that screams islander, even though you are most definitely not islander." She grinned broadly as she proffered the pieces. "If you'd like, I can get Lyssa to do your hair." She patted the base of hers as she turned this way and that, modeling the elaborate braiding work that this "Lyssa" individual had already done with Ophelia's dark locks: her locks were drawn back, playing up the waviness along the frame of her face with small braids looped and pinned at the top with several curling tendrils pooling over one shoulder.

"Once you're done, we can have ourselves a little bit of dinner. Arina would love to meet you...and Lady Tepenny, too. They're very curious, you know." She was all smiles and energy, setting the armband and hair pin down on the dressing table. For her part, she was neatly decked out in soft blue colored chiton edged in gold-like ribbons that moved in a gossamer fashion as she walked. Gold hair bands were woven through her braids and she, too, had emphasized her clothing with a golden arm band on her right arm and a couple bangles on her left wrist.

[ooc: Think about the TV show Spartacus and all the flashy fashion and hairstyles of the noble ladies!]

Spoiler

Checkpoint

• 1 experience point in Hedgemage
• 3 bars of copper
• Enough obsidianite for a circlet

 

[Ministra]

Something strange happened on the way from Pan’s club to the charming manor. Ministra found herself confiding in someone else, letting them know about her day and what she thought about certain things. What some might call a conversation. It wasn’t something that happened often enough for Mini to be very good at it, but whatever had been in that woman’s blood seemed to know how to make it happen. It was nice.

And all she could do was wait for the other shoe to drop. For the pendulum to swing in the opposite direction and shatter whatever modicum of happiness she’d found for herself. It happened every single time, which might have been why she stayed as far away from actual contentment as possible these days. Too painful.

She’d been in such a daze that she barely reacted as servants washed the gore from her skin, nought a memory for how she wound up in bed with Ophelia nor what they did to one another once beneath the sheets, but one thing was for certain: something bad was about to happen. No way this could all be real.

But when she awoke and saw the finery laid out for her, she realized that she might as well enjoy this while it lasted. No sense in not playing along when she got to play dress up and luxuriate. It was the sort of life she’d always felt she deserved. Her solitude was short-lived, only a moment to really appreciate the craftsmanship of the dress before Ophelia strode in, effervescent as ever.

”It’s exquisite,” she sighed, allowing the tips of her fingers to trace the fabric before snatching it up and trying it on. ”I’ve never really been much for the sun.” A slight chuckle in response to her obviously not being an islander. Even when she’d been alive, nature had never been her thing.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that as she ensured the fit was to her liking. The dark crimson perfectly offset her porcelain skin, a delicate flower ensnared. Yes, this would do nicely. ”I’d love that, yes,” definitely needed Lyssa to work her magic while Ministra did her makeup. Four hands were better than two and apparently there were people actually interested in meeting her. Which was… weird, but okay. The last time someone said they were excited to meet her, she wound up sleeping in a dumpster half a season later. The bar was low.

Once all that was done and Mini adorned the bangles and other various jewelry to her liking, she hooked her arm between Ophelia’s so they could go meet the family. ”You told them I’m nice, right?”

 

[Nimh]

Ophelia chuckled a little and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I miss bathing in the sun sometimes. Not that we can't go out in it, of course, but it's just not the same when people avoid you rather than flock to you." She clasped her hands and obnoxiously fluttered her lashes, jesting over her own appeal.

So! Lyssa to work on the hair! It turned out that Lyssa was something of a servant in the house, although slave might have been a more accurate phrase. She didn't seem terribly local by appearance and looked something like a cross between a woman with Kemite ancestry and Nairu, with lovely slanted almond eyes and tempered cocoa skin. Her own hair was nicely braided and she was dressed well enough, given the household and her apparent status, but the brand at her back right shoulder wasn't hidden either. She was quiet as she worked but didn't seem despondent or moody, just content to work and be talked around.

Hair done! Her hair didn't exactly mirror Ophelia's but it had the same elegance to it of coifed waves boosted at the back of her skull, an intricate braid interwoven along the let and tendrils left to curl over her shoulder.

Ophelia pet Mini's arm as she guided her down the hallway. "Oh very nice, of course," she fluttered reassuringly. "We'll meet them over dinner. I'm sure you're famished. Lady Arina can be a little imposing when you first meet her but with Lord Isidoro gone she's now our Radix. She has become a little more...protective of the nest...since his death. They were married, Isidoro and Arina. It's been...an adjustment. As for Lady Tepenny, this is her household. She's what you think of when you picture fancy old noble lady. She's very polished. Entertain her and she's pleased enough."

They reached what was generally known as the dining hall in short order and when they entered it was not to sup at the great table of a typical human banquet, of course. Here, instead, were her choices of mortals to drink of. "Our pets!" Ophelia declared with some degree of pride. There were five of them present, apparently offering some sort of variety on which to wet one's palette. They were presented in various manners.

One lounged on a chais by the open balcony doors and rolled onto her side when the pair entered. She was Quel'anthasan with delicate pink-hued skin and dark red hair, pink-eyes staring out at the two with interest. She wasn't quick to get up, though, but watched, her own sort of hunger in her eyes.

A second was another young woman, a half-elf, perhaps Medonian mingled with islander blood, with an array of tattoos dappling her arms and shoulders, all of them nautical in theme. For all her tattoos, she was fairly young, perhaps eighteen, although looks could be deceiving among elves, particularly half-elves. Her look was a little more...defiant?...in nature but there was a sassy bit of a spark to her that suggested maybe it was just for play. She boasted a knee-length cloth smith and a top that left her midriff bare, exposing more tattoos to those who peeked.

The third was male--Thelyri--large and hulking, easily towering over everyone in the room with blue-green skin and blue-black hair that fell loosely about his shoulders. He sat at the table, dressed in barely much of anything at all, just enough to cover him politely. He ignored the two women, instead focusing on the platter of food in front of him.

The last two were identical twins by the looks of them, human males in perhaps their twenties that had been playing a card game as the two women entered. They were both handsome with curling brown hair worn short and twinkling blue eyes. They had been struck up in easy conversation, chuckling over this or that with a general air of easiness and energy about them. One of them set their cards down as they entered and stood. "Kyríes!" He moved to bestow a kiss on Ophelia's cheek, which she graciously accepted. "So this is our guest?" He peeked towards Ministra, curving a flirty little smile towards her.

"I wasn't sure what your type was," Ophelia went on. "So I brought a selection." She gave Mini's hand a little squeeze. "This one is called Brandt. He tastes very sweet." She winked at the man, who flushed a little but chuckled. "Arina and Tepenny should be along in short order! In the meantime..." She gestured towards the room.

 

[Ministra]

At mention of dinner, Ministra’s stomach cramped, giddy at the thought of hunting with another like her. Theodallion was fun and all, but there was nothing quite like variety, right? Already Ophelia proved herself more interesting that other vampire she’d encountered in Jaedaxia. The one who tried to tell her that maybe she shouldn’t kill every single person she ate. Ugh, what a bore!

It had been a long time since Ministra had found herself in polite company. Talking a century or more, so it was no wonder, really, that her social skills left something to be desired. It wasn’t like her old boyfriend, the thane, ever took her to grand soirees. He preferred her locked in her apartment, waiting at his beck and call for attention, always in the shadows. Who wanted to be publicly associated with an elf with no house? This dinner with the family was going to be tough, even if she did want it to go smoothly.

Rather than a room of petrified mortals (fear, Mini had found, was a particular delicacy), Ophelia led her into something of a parlor where those with heartbeats lounged in luxury and comfort, as if they deserved to be treated better than Ministra ever had. Her jaw clenched tight, grateful that she no longer had to deal with rage and could simply stew in her thoughts.

One of them approached, a broad smile on his face as he addressed them and she had to stop herself from recoiling. Since when was anyone happy to see her? She’d gone to extraordinary lengths to embody the monster people always told her she was. So what was this? A joke?

”You keep them alive?” she asked with a crook of her brow, fingertips tracing Brandt’s forearm and bicep, basking in the strong thrum of his blood as it gushed through his veins. She supposed it made sense, given that Ophelia and the others had made a home here. Couldn’t go killing off the locals, and too many tourist disappearances would leave the island abandoned. Interesting…

She shrugged and answered her own question with compliance, ”When on Secyclion.” She didn’t have to ask permission from the food though, did she? Ordinarily, she would have just sunk fang and been done with it, but manners and making a good impression because she really was lonely and liked the idea of an actual friend made her wait a moment.

Her gaze flicked from empty space to Brandt’s, acknowledging that he was a person with a brain and feelings of his own who existed in the same space as her, and asked, ”Would you give me the pleasure of sampling your sweet blood, heruamin?” She’d also need him to like, squat down or something so that she could reach his neck, because that was really her favorite vein to eat from (next to the one in the thigh, nearest the groin, but she didn’t know of them that well yet).

 

[Nimh]

Ophelia blinked at Mini, surprised at the question. "It's easier that way. Less questions! And not much of a fight. It's an exchange of course. Blood for blood. They can't get enough of us." She smiled and tickled at Brandt's chin, who flushed a little but looked quite interested in the prospect of a little bit of blood, just for him.

But Ministra was the one that chose him that evening and he bowed a little in her direction. "Of course, kyria. I am yours, as you wish it." He reached to gently grasp her by the hand and guide her towards the table. He pulled a chair back for her and polite bowed towards it, offering her the chair as if she were a great lady. He'd then sink to the ground beside her, on his knees, keeping himself tall so that she did not have to bend so far to reach his neck. He reached up to pull his collar aside, exposing that pulsing jugular of his.

Not so much as a fight! Maybe not as fun but it was certainly convenient.

Meanwhile, Ophelia satisfied herself on the Thelyri male, having a little fun at his expense by roughing him a little--but he took it in what seemed to be good humor, ultimately cradling her in his arms as she wrapped hers around his neck and sank her teeth into his throat.

It was then that the two promised women entered the room: Lady Tepenny and Lady Arina. The former was an aging lady, whip-thin and gray-haired. She had seen some years! The other was a woman not quite middle-aged with blonde hair--tall and thick-bodied, she looked somewhat intimidating...steely, even. She surveyed the room with a quirk of a smile. "Dinner without us? Tut." But she chuckled and gestured towards the Quel'anthasan that was lounging nearby. She bounced up, sweeping her hair over her shoulders and glided towards the other woman, presenting herself without a word.

Only Lady Tepenny did not partake, seating herself at the table with the assistance of Brandt's twin, who sat beside her but did not offer himself.

Once the Quel had been sipped upon, a brush of Arina's own blood offered upon the Quel's lips, the Vagaran woman turned her attention towards Ministra. "Ophelia tells me you are familiar with our Estée. Our Etienne. What did you call him again?" Genuine curiosity, it would seem.

Ophelia leaned against the Thelyri's chest, a happy and sated smile drifting over her lips, one arm still wrapped around his neck as he suckled playfully at her pricked fingertip.

 

[Ministra]

Even Ministra had to admit that there were evenings where she just couldn’t be bothered to hunt. Where she was just so exhausted and bored with the idea that she instead starved herself in her room until she couldn’t take it anymore and she wound up eating whatever poor sap slept in the room adjacent. She could see the advantages of keeping a handful around. The pretty ones at least. If she was going to be forced into the company of mortals, they might as well be pleasant to look at.

Had she known that Ophelia and Brandt would have preferred one another, Mini would have chosen someone else. She wasn’t about to fight over food. But he deferred to her anyway and she allowed him to guide her to a chair where he obediently and conveniently put himself on display for her. This was nice. This she could get used to. This was definitely something she was going to have to figure out how to do for herself.

She traced her finger along his jugular, watching as goose pimples arose on his flesh, the beat of his heart growing steadily faster with anticipation. He wanted this; a sensation that she hadn’t felt since Calanon had craved her blood. And this one wasn’t nearly as mouthy. She licked her lips and grazed them over his flesh, humming to him, ”Thank you,” before her fangs sank inside, freeing his blood to wash over her tongue and down the back of her throat. While terror had always been her favorite flavor, this desire within him was equally tasty.

The two expected women made their arrival just as Mini was finishing up. She held an arm around Brandt’s slightly drooping shoulders, helping him to remain upright while she bit into her wrist and offered it to him in return. ”Theodallion, arwen en amin,” she replied with maybe a little more gusto than she would have liked. Always such a thrill to have someone sucking on her blood, hard to ignore. If she gave Brandt a playful little growl, she wouldn’t have remembered it and would have denied it ever happening.

”He’s my sire.” Not much else to say there really. If they knew him, then they knew him and anything else Ministra might have said would have simply been reiterating the point.

”You have a lovely home.” Changing the subject from a sore one to something a little more palatable. Something that didn’t immediately put her on the defensive as he always did. ”It was kind of you to allow me to sleep and eat with you.” Not to mention the change of clothes (even if she felt small and insignificant without the height of her stilettos). She wasn’t used to being treated decent. ”You’ll have to let me make it up to you somehow.”

 

[Nimh]

Brandt's sleepy, slanted look was pleased and a little dazed as he blew Ministra a kiss and sank into the chair beside her. He seemed to have no inclination of wandering around and enjoying the vampiric-like effects of the blood she'd offered him...but he did seem to feel the pleasure that suffused him upon its consumption. Mmmm, marinate in that a little bit.

"See, I told you she was one of us." Ophelia's voice was sing-song from the Teleris's arms, her feet swinging gently. She extracted her finger from the other's mouth, booping him on the nose, a little dab of blood left behind before the small puncture healed up.

"Make it up to us? It's common courtesy, my dear." This from Lady Tepenny as she turned in her seat to regard Ministra with interest. "Ophelia told us about what occurred last night. Really, she shouldn't have had you both skulking about Pan's to begin with. She does it just to antagonize him, too. You're just begging to have him toss you to the authorities," this to Ophelia, "Or, worse, killed. Like he almost did yesterday. Better not to play with fire, especially if you wish to continue to live here." It was unclear whether or not she meant the house or the island as a whole.

"She will stop or she will be dead," Arina noted in a calm, firm tone. The Vagaran was standing close to Ministra at her full height, regarding the other with quite a bit of scrutiny etched across her features. "There is a way to living as what we are: with care. Isidoro thought he was invincible. He thought he could defeat anything that came his way. He could not and he is gone." Was there a hint of strain at the corners of her eyes? Uncertain. She was not the sort that allowed that to cloud her features.

"Do you know why Isidoro chose Etienne?" This to Ministra as Arina sat herself down.

Ophelia had said nothing in response to Arina's firm reminder that, while they were immortal, they could still die--a frightening thought for any vampire that embraced eternal life with vigor. Indeed, she was braiding some of the Teleris's locks of hair, as if she hadn't been reprimanded at all.

 

[Ministra]

It had been years since someone looked at Ministra with pleasure in their eyes. Since becoming a vampire, she’d fallen into something of a destruction hole, where all she ever wanted to do was cause as much misery to others as she could manage. Not completely far off from where she’d been as an elf, but at least when she was alive there were some softer moments. Not being able to feel anything had its downsides.

So when Brandt slumped into the chair next to her, as if she wasn’t a monster, as if she wouldn’t just rip his heart out of his chest for looking at her, the normalcy of it twisted her insides uncomfortably. A yearning to belong stirred.

She’d never been the best student. Something something, problem with authority figures and being told what to do. But when it was a topic that actually interested her, one that she could tell would benefit her and her quest for power, she was all ears. That was what was being offered her here, today, in this house where her Theodallion had dusted the furniture and began his own unlife. She would learn all they had to tell her, the things that her sire should have imparted upon her before troddling off on one of his dalliances. And she’d use this information to lord over him, to show him how much better and smarter she was than he gave her credit for. She survived this long through stubbornness alone, time to learn the easier way.

The warning and reprimand about Pan was nothing to heed, however. Ministra fully intended on making that man adore her. Let him think he could use her while she stole all of his secrets. That he was so dangerous only made her need to know him more. With him on her side, her power would only grow.

But then Arina had something to say on the topic, the woman’s steely countenance rivaling Mini’s own before she sat down. She had a point. No part of Ministra wanted to die again. That house last night had sufficed in humbling her in the whole invincible regard. She was going to have to be more careful with this body if she wanted to keep it mobile and stunning.

Trying to keep the conversation off her sire wasn’t going nearly as well as she’d hoped. Apparently he simply couldn’t be avoided. Even when he was nowhere to be found. She had to fight the roll of her eyes. ”Etienne,” it gave her great pleasure to use the name, even if he wasn’t there to be annoyed by it, ”isn’t much for telling me anything, arwen en amin.” She draped one of Brandt’s arms around her shoulders and nestled in against him, threading her fingers through his to see his tanned skin next to her paleness.

She pouted in Arina’s direction. ”He only likes me when I’m rotten and would never deign to have a conversation with me. Let alone spend his energy telling me a personal story.” Not that she’d ever asked, but Mini didn’t feel the need to add that part.

 

[Nimh]

Brandt seemed more than content to shift his chair a little so that he could lean in against Ministra, his dark curls resting on her shoulder as his free fingers traced lines across the bare skin of her arm--little delicate swords that seemed to follow no specific pattern except that it entranced him in some form or fashion. "You? Rotten? Never, kyria." The words were delicately crooned, as if he were hazy and not quite there. Probably wasn't with the vampire blood shifting through his system. He smiled and tipped his head back a little, eyes half-lidded.

For her part, Arina tutted lightly but over her mouth played a bit of a smile. "Isidoro liked Etienne's looks, of course. And his confidence. Perhaps a factor for both Isidoro and Etienne, hm? A trait that runs in the family." She gestured vaguely, as if dismissing any concerns Ministra might have about the comment. "Not meant as a criticism of you, my dear. Just an observation."

Ophelia looked up from the braid she had been working into the Teleris's hair, giving Mini a little up and down sort of look, her look playfully teasing. "Well, I do suppose she has the looks." She winked at Mini and finished the elf's hair. She turned a bit in his lap and slid off. "And there was maybe quite a bit of the confidence, too, around Pan. A family failing, indeed, I suppose." Her grin was a little wicked as she sat down at the table.

"Mm. One doesn't embrace eternal life without the confidence to look death in the eyes and stave it off," Arina offered, perhaps a little poetically. "But it's that same confidence that perhaps get so many of us in trouble, I would say. It is what killed Isidoro: an unerring belief that he could stare down death and win each time. From the sounds of it, perhaps Etienne...and yourself?...continue to stare death in the face and taunt it." A faint quirk of a smile. "It does make one wonder how any of our people continue to survive, when all is said and done."

 

[Ministra]

As untruthful as it was, Ministra appreciated Brandt’s refusal to believe that she could be rotten. She too had the delusion that she was nice and it felt good to be validated, no matter how hollow it actually was. She found herself easing into his chest with a sense of security that she hadn’t felt in some time. Not a physical security, Mini was more than capable of defending herself, but more of an emotional one, the kind that she wasn’t supposed to be feeling as a vampire.

She listened to Arina’s words, a sense of pride slithering through her veins. Beautiful and confident? That described her perfectly. She didn’t understand why the woman seemed to want to downplay the familial traits. In her eyes, they were a boon. A status symbol that showed only the best were worthy to bear their blood. Something she would keep in mind if she ever considered having a progeny of her own one day. The thought of becoming a mother vaguely amused her. She would be a much better sire than Theodallion ever was and her bloodline would one day rule the world.

She chuckled at Ophelia’s comment on guessing she had the looks. Anyone with eyes could see that Ministra was the most stunning person in the room. She didn’t feel it needed to be corrected and instead took the joke for what it was and decided to show a little self control and allow herself to be the butt of a jab for once. It hurt, but she didn’t die, so she guessed it was okay. It helped that Brandt remained sturdy at her back, his intoxicated movements giving the whole experience an ethereal feel.

Arina, it turned out, was very good at speeches. Ministra took note, knowing that one day she was going to have to address hoards of people, and also knowing that her own social skills were decidedly sub par in that department. It was good to be in the presence of a master. ”If it makes you feel any better, I’ve already died once more since becoming a vampire and am still around.” A cheeky little grin so that no one could mistake her for taking herself too seriously.

”However,” she drew her hand across Brandt’s cheek to draw him in for a brief kiss before alighting from his lap and coming to stand at Arina’s side, debasing herself to the point that she slumped onto the chair beside her (c’mon, did you really think she’d kneel?!), and leaned in conspiratorially, ”If you tell me your secrets to longevity, I can promise a fruitful family on the mainland.”

 

[Nimh]

Arina was in fact not sure that made her feel any better, given it meant that Mini had gone ahead and put herself at death's doorstep already...and so young, too! Ah but weren't the young always the most foolish of them all? She'd have thought so, had it not been for Isidoro's unfortunate mishap.

Her eyes slid towards the young woman as she sank into the chair beside her, sizing up the request...and what it perhaps meant. "You wish to learn what, exactly? How to keep your pretty head on your shoulders rather than losing it in some foolish display of bravado?" She sighed, reaching out to touch one of the long curls that fell over Ministra's shoulder, winding her finger through it briefly before letting it bounce back into place. color=silver]"You wish your own house, your own space. Some place to claim as yours. It is a natural thing, I suppose. And fair."[/color]

She leaned back a little, studying the elf, quiet, in no rush to really answer her. And why rush? They had all the time in the world, didn't they?

But at length she nodded slightly. "It would not do to have one of our own wandering freely, ignorant and careless. A shame Theodallion did not get the same courtesy from Isidoro. Very well. There is no harm in knowing there will be another safe haven for House Malnaghi, should it need to be sought."

Arina spared a glance around the room. "Your lessons start here: family and provisions that are gained for one and all. Security, sustenance. A lone vampire can have both, if fostered appropriately. As family, we secure one and the other as a whole. No one goes hungry; all are provided for. It is to me that they look for guidance, certainty in knowing they will have food to sustain them."

Ophelia leaned against the table a little, one long arm draped across it as she rested her cheek upon that dusky arm. "She thought our...arrangement...here odd. She is used to hunting."

Arina smiled a little, regarding Mini. "Do you have no pet of your own?"

 

[Ministra]

”Basically,” Ministra said with a self-deprecating chuckle. She’d always been impulsive, rushing headlong into certain danger without care whether she lived or died. But how many times could she die before it was permanent? And what then? Was she supposed to just rot in the ether for eternity? No, couldn’t have that. She needed to stay in this form for eternity. This was where she had all the power, where she could grow her power. Couldn’t really do much without a body. Or so she assumed and she wasn’t really willing to test the theory just yet.

When Arina began her lesson, Mini found herself with a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. One that she wasn’t yet sure if she liked. A family? She coughed a little, trying to hide it as if there was a tickle in the back of her throat and not bile rising from her gut. ”It’s been nearly two centuries since I’ve had a family like that,” she said, hoping the implication that she might be a little rusty could go unexplained. It sounded nice though.

She cast a wide-eyed stare in Ophelia’s direction. Betrayed already? And by the one she thought would be her closest ally? Was this family? Maybe it wasn’t as nice as she thought. Maybe she should have left Ophelia at Pan’s and kept that ring for herself. She sat a little straighter in her chair, raising her chin into the air as she adopted her impenetrable facade of icy perfection. Arina’s smile was met with a frown and a vague shrug of her shoulder in regards to her question. Did Mini not have a pet? Asked in such a sweet and condescending tone.

”Not presently, no.” Nor had the idea ever really crossed her mind, but she didn’t enjoy having her ignorance used against her like this. She didn’t have a home either. Would they like to know that? Nor many belongings, nor friends, nor anything that one might expect a person to have. Ministra had herself and that had always been enough.

Her gaze narrowed on Ophelia, sending out her little feelers so that she could dig around in the other woman’s brain and extract a secret that she could then tell Arina. Fair was fair. If Ophelia was going to tattle, so was Mini. Hopefully the secret was a juicy one.

 

[Nimh]

So quick to take offense! They could see it in her posture: if she had fur, Mini's hackles would have been up. It was telegraphed in each movement, in the succinct words dropped from the elf's lips.

"We could always remedy that, you know. I can show you how we go about it. It's really sort of fun. There's always the types that use know we exist, of course, but they're either a good time or a boring time, depends on how easy you like things to be." Ophelia's tone and movements were somewhat dramatic at the end there. Meanwhile, she had no idea that Mini was dipping into her mind and finding out her secrets.

Secret number one? That she'd killed the girl with Mini at the club the night before--Mini already knew that! But it was a secret and one that she hadn't felt like sharing with Arina. Also, the girl she had almost killed at Pan's some nights prior, which had also been something of an accident. Something something drugs in the blood something something humans are just so freaking fragile! The only reason the human hadn't died that night was because of Pan's intervention. Secrets.

"If Ministra wishes you to show her, of course," Arina conceded. "The hunt is always exciting but hunting can put us at risk...of being caught, killed. Pets allow us the ability to remain safe and well-fed. They are...essential...to our way of life." The last word was said with a bit of an amused curl of the lip.

OOC Not the best post, sorry :|

 

[Ministra]

ooc Every post from you is best post <3

She waited for another attack even as she sifted through Ophelia’s secrets. The woman really didn’t have anything worth mentioning. So she’d killed and almost killed someone at Pan’s? Ministra failed to realize how that was a problem. So tattling back was out. Besides, it really wasn’t much fun when the other side didn’t even know she was playing along. Ophelia’s offer of helping her find a pet put that to rest straight away.

”Another perk of family?” she asked, with as amiable a tune as she could muster. She wasn’t completely ignorant of social niceties, but it took some easing into in order to get the feel for it right. When one’s default setting was glacial, the fire needed to be scalding to coax the vixen free.

”The last thing I want is to squander my gift,” she tried to reassure Arina. Why? Because she was the matriarch and Mini wanted her approval. Absolutely. Yes. She missed her parents more than was able to admit, or at least she remembered a part of herself that did, and if she had a chance at experiencing someone else taking pride in her again, she was going to snatch it. For too long she’d been the only one holding herself up. She wasn’t quite willing to take the leap into full on trusting this alliance–family--but she would walk up to the crevasse and peer into its depths, wait and see what tragedies awaited her before deciding to release an ounce of her control.

”I am your happy apprentice, Ophelia.” To her surprise, the excitement in her tone was genuine. She admired how freely the other woman acted, reminded her of her beloved Estée, reminded her of herself before she’d been turned into this emotionless shell of a being (amazing as it was otherwise). Perhaps along the way to procuring her perfect pooch, Mini would be able to observe her and pick up some of her mannerisms along the way.

 

[Nimh]

Arina wasn't immune to a little bit of fluffing and she certainly appreciated that Ministra seemed to be embracing her interest in learning how to be the best vampire she could be. There were so many ways and so much time to improve and hone one's perfection, why wait to start? So the matriarch smiled and nodded as Ministra deigned to entertain them with the notion of trying to get a pet of her own. Learning to behave was hard but sometimes it could be fun? And if anyone could put the fun in fun, surely it had to be Ophelia!

Ophelia gave a little squeal of excitement and even clapped her hands briefly. "Perfect. Let's get started straight away." She bounced up from her chair and moved around the table to meet up with Ministra, seeking to companionably link her arm with the other's, giving her a little squeeze that continued to convey the energy and excitement she felt in the task before them.

"There's so many spots where we can look. We just need to narrow in on your type," she acknowledged and started to lead her from the room.

"I look forward to your return," Arina acknowledged, canting her cheek towards Ministra. "We will speak before the suns rise again." How delightfully poetic, right?

Lady Tepenny just sort of smiled at the pair, letting them go on their way without adding in another word.

Ophelia wasn't about to wait for them to stand around and talk more! "What's your type? What tickles your fancy the most? Men? Women? Humans? Elves? Do you like pretty? Handsome? Bulky muscles? Or maybe you're a little wild and like a good thug. What gets you going? I need to know everything." Ophelia was practically ready to dance around Ministra.

 

[Ministra]

Arina’s departing words sure were ominous and Ministra felt a delicious little shiver slither down her spine as she left the woman with a smile and acknowledged Lady Tepenny’s existence with a cant of her head.

But she needed to focus on the task at hand now: finding a pet. The longer she sat with the idea, the more she enjoyed it. The thought of having a lap dog, someone to do her bidding and whose only purpose in life was to worship her? Yes. Sign her up. She was actually a little annoyed that the idea had never occurred to her before. At least now she wouldn’t have to do all the work herself and could rely on Ophelia’s… expertise.

Their arms linked and the pair left the room, going wherever it was that the other woman decided to lead them. A pet store? Perhaps a little too convenient. But there were questions to answer first, a type to settle on and Ministra had to admit that she hadn’t really given it much thought. She figured she would snag the first able-bodied person who happened to be lucky enough to catch her eye.

But she wasn’t fighting for scraps anymore. She deserved the best and she had a family that was willing to help her get it. ”Hmmm…” she closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself lounging in a grand parlor, picturing the person she wanted to drape herself across. ”He should be well-muscled but not too big. Definitely dangerous.” Perhaps a bit like Pan. Which she would never say out loud.

 

[Nimh]

Ophelia gave Ministra a delighted squeeze. "Oh, I know just the place. You'll love it." She kissed Ministra's cheek, so bubbly with giddiness as she was, and the two women in their beautiful Secyclion finery were off to find themselves a muscular, dangerous man.

What could constitute a better evening than that?

Ophelia's idea of the perfect place was close to the seedier docks of the town. A dangerous place for women decked out in such pretty finery--Ophelia wasn't phased in the slightest by the looks that they garnered and the whispers that followed the two women as she walked arm in arm with Ministra along the strong-smelling waterfront. She walked with her chin high and a bit of a sway to her hips. "You want this, fellas? try to come and claim it"--that was the language of her body, confidence and ego flowing through every bit of her. Her trick drew people in, summoned them like moths to a flame when she wanted...but she didn't always need it. Especially not with the added beauty of Minsitra at her side!

They arrived at a place brimming with activity. Not Pans's place at all, no, but it was just as busy. It was a different kind of energy, though, with a scent of danger whispering in the air. They were ushered in without much of a question or a fuss. In seemed to be a fighting ring. Two men were actively battling it out in the makeshift dirt ring in the center of the room--a ring surrounded by rough wooden stands in which people were sitting or standing, all of them in various dress--Secyclion locals, sailors, mainlanders, all were there, shouting at their chosen fighter to go, go, go.

"There's the big ones, of course, but I like the lithe ones--beautiful, quick, just enough muscle to rub your hands over but not so much muscle that it's all you see." Ophelia eyed Ministra, curious how she liked their chosen place. "Do you want to watch them fight a little or do you want to see if we can take our pick of fighters before they get all roughed up?" The smell of blood was heavy in the air, intoxicating and almost dangerous--the sort of thing that could rouse vampiric instinct to lash out and bite.

 

[Ministra]

Ministra didn’t mind the stares the pair of them received as they strode towards the seedier area of town. In fact, she luxuriated in them, preened and ensured her movements were as languid and feline as ever. If they were going to look, she might as well give them a show. Even after the fiasco in the house, she felt more than capable of defending herself against these goons. Especially with Ophelia at her side. What were two vampires against a bunch of smelly sailors? It was a massacre waiting to happen, but Mini refused to make the first move. Restraint!

And that restraint would have to quickly turn into resolve because as soon as they entered the fighting arena, Mini could feel the prickling of her senses, smell the blood, hear the hearts, taste it all in the air as violence permeated the room. She had to swallow the drool that pooled in her mouth. ”Ophelia!” she cooed, tightening her grip on the other woman’s forearm with a devious twist to her lips. ”What a beautiful surprise.”

The other woman said some things about what she preferred and Mini nodded, agreeing. Muscles were all well and good, but she preferred a man who could still move. ”Let’s sit and watch a little,” she said, her eyes never leaving the ring as they found a place on the spectator’s benches. The best spot was already occupied, but Mini fixed that with a sneer and sent them scooting along on their way so that she and Ophelia had an unobstructed view.

The two currently fighting weren’t anything special, really. But there was a man off to the side, shirt off, black breeches, tanned skin and dark hair. He was throwing practice punches, light on his feet while he danced around his invisible opponent. It wasn’t just his looks, but the smile on his face while he warmed up; it looked like he was out for a hunt and ready to enjoy pummeling whoever would be in the ring opposite him.

”Him,” Ministra said, waving her fingers in the man’s direction so Ophelia could see her choice. ”That’s the one.”

 

[Nimh]

Sit and watch a little while they did! Ophelia sat companionably alongside Ministra, at first with her arm looped through the other woman's but Ophelia never really did much by half and she was already getting excited by the fight, even though it wasn't much of anything. She clearly just enjoyed a spectacle--and heckling. "You call that a jab? I want to see teeth on that floor! I'm sure they pay you coppers for that performance!"

She was in the middle of some other silly little jibe when Mini found him--that dusky skinned, dark-haired islander with the ripple of muscles, light on his feet. She leaned into Mini to ostensibly get a good look at the man, the smile that blossomed over her mouth most certainly very appreciative. She nudged her companion and shifted her shoulders in a little shimmy. "Well I certainly like the look of him."

He bounced on his toes and bumped his fists together, restless and ready to go, his eyes skipping towards the fight in the ring that was struggling onward, the two circling each other, cuts above their eyes. They were both tired. He looked, towards, another that was prepping for a fight. This one was surrounded by a few sailors and he did not look particularly local. He was blonde, his chest scarred and his face hard-angled. He looked like his nose had been broken a few times and his skin was rough from exposure to the rough sea suns. He was bigger than the islander, taller and broader in the shoulder, certainly had more muscles, and he had a certain smirk to his features that reeked of ego.

"Hesperus!"

The islander turned and exchanged greetings with someone who came up to thump his shoulders and wish him luck before moving onward again.

"Hesperus," Ophelia repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. "Well? Shall we watch him fight? See if he's any good? Or do you want to wish him luck first?" Ophelia looked like she was feeling a little devious. "Maybe show him what a little vampire blood can do? I've found a little bite of your tongue and it's easier to get them to swallow the blood that way the first few times." Because Ophelia was here to educate, right? "Surely every fighter needs a little good luck kiss before the fight?" Innocent little bat of the lashes.

"Of course, maybe we should see if he's any good first. He certainly looks like he moves well." And did her tone maybe insinuate that she hoped he moved well in other ways? Okay, maybe.