Post by Pandora LeAmour on Aug 3, 2009 20:46:22 GMT -5
High Priestess
Pandora LeAmour
Symphony De Madrid
Tathar Seregon
Location: The Tower
Time: Sunset
It had been a long day for the High Priestess, popping in and out of rooms, trying to avoid anything that might resemble work, or for that matter, anyone that might want to speak with her. She was about ready to either heal or kill the Vampire as it was. This limbo thing was driving her crazy.
Right now, she was standing there beside the old Master of the City's cot, hovering. Yes, she said old. The High Priestess saw Pandora as nothing but the OLD Master of the City. The Vampire would die. She would not survive the death of her Human Servant. And then the High Priestess would be able to appoint a new Master of the City. A more obedient MotC.
Her eye's never left Pandora's sleeping form. The woman hadn't much moved since she had arrived two days ago. Her color had disenerated to an ashen unhealthy Grey appearance, and her expression had twisted up into a fit of rage or pain, the High Priestess couldn't decide which one, but other then that, Pandora LeAmour had been unmoving.
She would occassionally show signs of improving, but then again she showed signs of getting worse too. Right now, it was a waiting game. One that the High Priestess didn't enjoy playing. In her opinion, the Council should simply all agree to put Ms. LeAmour out of her misery and stake the Vampire already.
When it had been placed to vote the last time, there were three more supporting members for that idea, but they still had two more to go. The Council didn't do anything unless they ALL voted on the same results. Shame, really. If thing's were run differently, the High Priestess could have been back home by now, comfortably surrounded by her family. Instead, she was stuck here in a hole in the woods, waiting. Babysitting. How disgraceful.
Not for the first time in two days, the High Priestess considered simply taking thing's into her own hands and ending the Vampire LeAmour's struggle herself. Afterall, who would be the wiser to decide if the Vampire had simply died with the death of her Human Servant, or by the hands of another? Unfortunately, the Council always knew. They always watched. Even now, she could feel her seat members.
Of course, they couldn't ALWAYS be about. Afterall, they were missing one of their members right now...
Pandora wasn't completely unaware of what was going on in the room. Mind you, she couldn't gather details, and her mind was simply overloaded so much from the Mind Rolls, her energy drained from the loss of Mathas, that she couldn't really use any Master Vampire gifts. That didn't mean to say she couldn't sense that someone else was in the room with her. She could hear them move around occassionally.
However, they hadn't made any move towards her. They simply remained standing at a respectable distint away that Pandora felt on edge but not threatened. It only added to the discomfort.
And damn was it a discomfort. She didn't seem to have the strength to sit up. To move. To even open her eyes. She simply was. The wounds on her back were no longer seeping with her blood, or rather the blood of her latest victims, but neither had they healed completely. Now, they were simply puffy marks. At least they were no longer open sores.
Her face bunched up again, the strength to keep it expressionless all but absent in her. It felt like someone was draining her own life force. But that couldn't be, she no longer HAD a lifeforce, did she? Then why did it feel like someone was trying to shove a silver stake into her heart. It felt almost like they had managed to stake every other part of her body, and the silver was just eating away at her from the inside out.
If she could form a coherent thought, she probably would have wanted to kill the Council right about now. It was, afterall, their fault. They had forced her to make Mathas a servant. They knew. Oh, yes. She was certain they knew. Just as certain as she was that the presence next to her cot belonged to one of them. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it. Give it time... She would fight this, and she would win. This was one fight she was not willing to lose.
God, how frustrating it was to stand there and wait. The Vampire should have given up a long time ago. Unless... Someone snuck her a meal. But no, no one had been up there in the chambers excep.. Tathar. Oh, that Lycan had some explaining to do!
Within the next moment, the High Priestess was back within the walls of the Meeting Hall, making herself quite comfortable in the Master of the City's chair. She had no need to climb or jump from the upper level of the Tower to the ground. The beauty of being one of the NightWorld Council members.
The Tower itself had been relatively quiet today. As with every Moon Phase, it had been closed to business last evening so that the Master of the City could give her undivided attention to the shifting Lycans. Now, however, that the danger that posed was over with, the Tower was resuming it's usual business.
But if this was what Pandora called business, she had another thing coming. The High Priestess was already growing restless. Whatever had she done that was so bad that the rest of the Council had elected sending HER?
Her business at the smithery was finished long since, and while Symphony had never been able to find her.....creation.....she wasn't worried too much about it. She had been frantic, in a frenzy, and had probably melted down the damn thing anyway. And it wasn't as though it was...real. It was not a Pandoran. ((wow, that is a lot more ironic now that I think about it...)) She had not been able to master the fire. She was a failure. She now understood antoher great human failing: shame. Still, she was making her way to the Tower to check on him, to see if he had been by the shop yet, and to try to glean whether or not he had picked up anything amiss. She pretty much kept her cloak on her at all times, and was presently snuggled reassuringly within its folds as she worked her way through the tower. She knew that lycans had to be kept in the holding cell, but she rather figured he was likely done with that little problem, and so headed towards the meeting room, which aside from the holding cells, was the only room of the Tower she had been in. As was customary for her, she knocked twice on the door, then opened it accordingly, strolling in impassively. Her green eyes regarded the figure at the head of the table. ANOTHER new Master? Tranquility seemed to go through them like lemonade. Her face was quite impassive.
The woman's face didn't shift, didn't even so much as register that someone had arrived and was addressing her. Her eyes, the only thing that showed any signs of life, as they studied the woman standing before her. Promethean. Ah yes, that means that it had to be the one that went by the name of Symphony De Madrid.
The one whom had been tending to Hammerfall Forge, the Smithary that belonged to the Lycan Tathar Seregon, playtoy of Pandora LeAmour, Master of the City.
The High Priestess elected to speak out loud, never liking the way a voice sounded to a Promethean. With cool eye's still studying the thing standing before her, she addressed it.
"Mister Seregon is currently not here."
Obviously. The only two people right there in the meeting room was infact the High Priestess and the Promethean. Anyone could have seen that Tathar wasn't in attendance. Of course, she knew exactly where he was, but it was not her duty to disclose that information.
Symphony observed her just the same, with perhaps only a shadow of scientific curiosity. She stepped a bit closer.
She studied the woman, perhaps taking an internal poll, to see just how close to the real thing her mental inventory of this woman was. Pride, definitely. Envy? Most likely. Rage? Probably. Greed? Perhaps.
The woman unfolded her hands from her lap, and raised them to the same height of her shoulders, her palms not visible underneath the green robe she wore, though you could tell they were facing skyward as if to say who knows. Her voice was odd. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere both at the same time. It echoed and it ended. Loud and quiet. It was impossible to put into words.
Also an answer that didn't really provide any details. It didn't establish where he was right this moment, and it didn't dispute her question at all. She offered no further explination.
She tilted her head the opposite direction, took another step closer. ah, how fascinating these nightworld types were! Always good value. Pride indeed. Rage, not so much. The rest? Uncertain.
She thought about it for a split second, then added useless information as an afterthought.
A single slender eyebrow rose. The Promethean certainly asked a lot of questions from someone they didn't know.
And then it dawned on her. Technically, she was his keeper. She lowered her hands back to her lap before she ammended her previous answer.
A ghosty smile spread across her lips, even as she spoke. She could already pinpoint Tathar Seregon's exact location. And, given a nice estimate, would be arriving in the Meeting Hall within the next three to five minutes.
The corners of her lips twicthed ever so slightly, but still she did not smile. She wondered for the first time who this woman was.
She was getting better at Metaphors. She was understanding them in the same way she was understanding Sarcasm. After all, foreign languages were not that difficult to learn.
And the Council member's estimate was not too terribly far from it's mark, either, as he soon appeared, removing his cloak, having just returned from his shop, and his expression was one of a rather sour disposition...Symphony had left the smithy in terrible condition...His tools were rusty for some reason, his tables were covered in oil, the forge was burning unchecked, he was out of matches, and there had been a little strange puppet-like contraption that seemed as if it had been made by the hands of a drunken monkey sitting just behind his counter....Oh, she was going to pay...He could polish the tools well enough, but he would have to buy more matches, and he would have to smelt down the "doll", and he would simply have to tolerate an oily work surface for the next few weeks...This left him very, very displeased, as he had instructed her to mind the shop, not try to forge anything...She was supposed to simply have been a clerk, and nothing more...and therefore, since he would have to correct so very many mistakes she was not going to recieve payment of any kind. She did not, after all, deserve it. When he entered he tossed his cloak to the chair he would be occupying from here on out...the one that was reserved for the Temoin, and he glanced between the two of them.
The haunting laughter that drifted from around the room was clearly hers, and yet it didn't come directly from her. Instead, it seemed to seep in from the four walls and drifting inward towards them there near or at the table.
Her head turned ever so slowly so that she could look upon the archway that led into the Meeting Room without needing to stare anywhere but directly infront of her. And but a moment later, Tathar appeared. Her voice, echoing from all angles within the room, greeted him.
She watched in silence as Tathar tossed aside his cloak onto the chair directly to the High Priestess right, the chair reserved for the Temoin. Pandora's Temoin, when she were here to occupy the seat of Master of the City. Quite frankly, the High Priestess was settling in quite comfortably in the Vampires deginated seat.
She nodded, content with the Priestess' answer. At least she knew the right thing to call her, and a general idea of who she was. Oh, but she wanted to know what went on behind that placid demeanor!
He smirked at the....High Priestess'...words...and her echoing laugh...If she really needed such dramatic theatrics to get her point across, then she was seriously lacking in the physical abilities to make herself appear to be in a seat of power...even though she was seated within the chair for the Master of the City...Fine, he could tolerate that, for now at least...As soon as he had a spare moment he would sneak up another meal for Pandora...though, it would not be anything like what was served in the feeding rooms...No, what he smuggled needed no more lugging up those pegs in the wall any more than he already did...He would feed her of himself, of course...It was much more effective that way...At least that is what it appeared to be, in any case. Therefore, he ignored the visiting Council member's words and turned directly to Symphony...a rumbling growl issuing forth from his throat before he spoke. And normally today, the day after the violent change each month, he was so very...bubbly.
Such squibble squabble between the two of them. It was always so tiring. And yet, the High Priestess didn't make a move to leave her seat. She wasn't asked to speak, and wasn't required to, but just sitting here? Why, that would get mighty boring.
Her eye's watched Tathar for an expression. Oh, so he would try to sneak Pandora another meal, would he now? Perhaps it was time to have the Vamprie moved to another location in the Tower. Perhaps even outside the Tower itself?
A single eyebrow rose as she watched him, and then turning her head, gazed upon the one calling herself a De Madrid.
And there it was, flaring up again at the most importune times, her Disquiet, bubbling out around her. She did not flinch, but a trifle of (shame)...something she did not recognize rippled through her. She did not like it at all, but managed to keep her face impassive.
But she couldnt finish that sentence. Shame was so easy to apply to others, so difficult to admit for once's self. Instead she turned half gratefully, half accusingly to the HP.
"Acted? I tried to act according to the orders that mathas told me--mind the shop, keep it clean, tend to the needs of the customers...I wanted to see what appeal it held to such an impressive lycan...that is all, nothing more, nothing to do with my beliefs..."
Still a memory kept haunting her, the memory of a half baked childdoll, emerging from the flames, red hot, burning her hands so as she withdrew it with her bare hands.
He growled again, though this time it was much more feral sounding...And it was directed to the both of them. He did not want to hear excuses on the matter, no matter whom they came from...He had lost money, something that was growing ever more needed in the world. Why, he surmised that there would come a day when one could not live at all if they did not have the coin to pay for their very own lives. Imagine that...being taxed just for living...A dreadful thought, but the way the realms he had travelled through acted it was growing...looming ever near. And that fact is the reason he was so very upset about it...And the fact that her disquiet flared up did not help matters in the least...Rather, they fanned their flames much like that of the bellows within his forge, which thankfully enough had gone unscathed from Symphony's presence...They were very expensive, after all...And as the wave of uncomfortableness met him he lashed out....His speed of course was clearly inhuman...but right before the flat of his palm struck the construct's face he locked in his shoulder and elbow, stopping the blow altogether...He did not act like this, and he did not like it in the least...Lowering his arm and mentally trying to will the hairs on the back of his neck to stand down rather than straight up in the air he gave her one more glare, and this he shared with the High Priestess before he stalked off toward the drop room...He wanted to be well away from both of them, right now.
She simply sat there, watching as Tathar lost his cool. Such a Lycan thing to do. Entertaining, at the very least. When he failed to deliver the blow in which he obviously intended to take, the High Priestess eyebrow shot up in curiousity. He obviously had a respectable level of control, for the most part at the very least.
Still, she sat there and watched his retreating form. She even allowed him to get so far as to the archway of Williams Room before she bothered doing anything about it. A single snapping sound, and Tathar's form disappeared from the archway of Williams Room and appeared once more in the Meeting Room, at the end of the table there.
Her face was a complex of amusement, irritation and boredom.
Oh yes. She did it. Someone had to do it. It had to be done.
Tathar would probably be going through a whirl of thing's and emotions right now. Confusion. Shock. Discomfort. Queezy. And all the High Priestess did was sit there, watching between the two of them. She wondered which would be more entertained. Tathar Seregon or Symphony De Madrid.
She imagined Tathar would go through it all. Shocked, until the Queeziness took over him. Confusion as he realized he was back in the Meeting Room. Anger and rage as he came to terms with what the hell just happened.
Whereas she imagined the Promethean's reaction a bit differently. Shock. Curiousity. More Curiousity, perhaps?
Symphony was, of course, very curious, but she was not stupid. She closed her eyes and threw up her hands in defense against Tathar's blow--she had worse things done to her by humans before, of course, but that hadn't been an experience she was eager to repeat. She had thrown up her still-gloved hands in expectation, but the blow never came.
And the woman--the woman didn't even seem to notice Symphony's "little problem" at all...Curious, ecstatic, she stook another step towards the woman, to see if the proximity affected her.
He had started to move on to William's room, and therefore onwards to the drop room where he could go and visit within their quarters when a very strange sensation overcame him...He felt...dizzy...and his stomach was threatening to void itself of the meager meal he had allowed himself earlier...or rather, the tiny bits that were left of it that had yet to be digested...and he simply turned to them...a confused look on his eyes for the moment, mind working over exactly what had just happened, as well as what to do about it...therefore, he unmeaningly ignored Symphony's words.
She knew perfectly well what the Promethean was attempting to do, even as she took another step towards her. Nothing she did could give her the results that de Madrid wanted. The High Priestess wasn't really here. She had no body to make uncomfortable. She had no emotions, no physical being. Nothing. She simply.. Was.
The NightWorld Council consisted of Lycans, Vampires, and other beings that were more of a spiritual form rather then any material form. It just so happens that the High Priestess was considered a little bit of all and none of these. She was a mystery unto herself, and one no one quite knew the limits of.
Her eye's stayed upon the Lycan, watching. She had no reason to glance elsewhere, since it would only serve to feed the curious mind o the Promethean.
The High Priestess gestured towards the table, where two single chairs slid out, mindedly neither of them were to the right or left of her, but rather further down teh table.
She wasn't hurt by Tathar's unmitigated silence--the way that she saw it, he said nothing, therefore he was not going to chastize her again. She...didn't like being chastized. She turned to watch the magic show, and chose the closer of the two chairs to the Priestess. And then, she tried as ubobtrusively as possible to scoot her chair closer to the Priestess. It was as it was with Sotharian--she just wanted to be around anyone whom could bear to be around her without....well, wanting to first destroy her, then claw off their own skin. She folded those massively gloved hands in front of her, and looked expectantly.
Only then did her words register to him...and he took the time to think about them....No...She was never to be allowed within the smithy ever again unless she was a paying customer...She had harmed far too much...as well as the fact that his tools were antiques...they were far older than she was, and nearly as much as he...And as the High Priestess bade them sit, two chairs conveniantly moving out for them, he instead chose to defy her yet again, moving around the table and toward his own chair...something that he rather thought might cause her to try that little trick again...It made him curious....And he wanted to test something....A possibility that her shield might not be able to completely deflect...but only if she used it again.
The High Priestess turned her eyes upon Symphony as she addressed her direct question. Technically, the High Priestess always answered direct questions. Perhaps it wasn't always the answer one wanted, but it was always a reply at the very least. This time was absolutely no exception.
Her eye's then slid to Tathar accusingly.
Alright, so the Master of the City wasn't technically done yet. Until she sat but a pile of ash, she was still considered Master of the City. The High Priestess didnt' expect her to recover. The deal, in her opinion at the very least, was as good as done. And seeing as the majority of the NightWorld Council consisted of Vampires, beings whom did not like Lycans nearly as much as the current Master of the City did, they weren't about to hand over control of the city to one.
She didn't have time to add any other thoughts or comments to what had already been spoken, for the movement of the Lycan caught her attention. A single slender brow rose as he approached her and claimed the chair directly to her right. Ah well, let him have it while it lasts. When Pandora died, and she most certainly would in her opinion, Tathar would lose his chair. He would not become Master of the City. A Lycan simply couldnt. Who would run the world during Moon Phases? Yes, let him enjoy his small seat of power for now.
She did, however, address him.
She gestured again towards the table.
She blinked slowly. Lies were something that confused her, more because of what she was, her paradoxal nature. Her Master had created her, told her she was beautiful, told her he loved her...then told her she disgusted him, and abandoned her...she was good at spotting them, bad at dealing with them.
The idea for a replacement didn't strike her. She really didn't think Pandora, she of pride and rage, would have fallen without every single nightworlder knowing about it. And surely William as her servant, or Tathar as her friend, would have told everyone? The only funeral she had been to was her own, and she hadn't exactly been around to remember it.
But something else caught her attention, and she rose quite suddenly.
She had of course known that it was inevitable, but she rather thought she would have heard something....but that wasn't what convinced her. She thought of her doll baby, lost somewhere at the smith. She had to practice more, but....when the time came...perhaps...perhaps...she could create another. It would not be a Pandoran, of course, she could never create a Pandoran--but it--HE--would carry the same title she called herself...after her bastard Master...he would also be a Galateid Promethean...and he would be just as beautiful as she.
She sat back down, and a smile crossed her face for the first time...well, ever.
And, of course, as fate would have it she chose not to do that little effect again...Disappointing, to say the least...He had a family hairloom that he wished to share with her, even though he was unsure of how effective, if at all, it would be here in the lands. He had tried it only one right after his moving here, and it had not worked at all...Buty maybe time corrected that? He would find out eventually. So for now he contented himself with sitting down, in HIS chair, and listening to the woman's words as she sat in PANDORA's chair...A temporary occurance, he was sure...and if it wasn't, then he would make it otherwise...But upon her mention of Pandora being dead he froze...unmoving...unbreathing...Surely that was a lie...He could not tell...Reading her words...her body language was just as difficult as reading Pandora's....And she would not even let him to their chambers....And he could not believe that the gossip surrounding Mathas' death had not managed to reach the ears of Symphony...as she seemed very curious about it....
Oh, so little thing's these beings knew. They were smack in the middle of it all and yet they appeared to know absolutely nothing. The High Priestess wasn't certain if this was disappointing or would prove useful. Either way, she didn't react to either. Tathar himself had just answered Symphony's inquiry as to Mathas' execution and thus she had no need to address it. Instead, she addressed the remainder of their inquiries.
Her voice was gentle but unemotive. Empty.
She then turned her eye's to Tathar, wanting to see his expression as she voiced the truth that Pandora had never shared with him. Her expression remained empty even now.
Her eye's then returned to the Promethean.
The High Priestess then folded her hands in her lap, hidden beneath the many layers of fabric that composed her robe.
The High Priestess then paused, before continuing, her eye's slowly returning to Tathar.
This news came quite as much a surprise to Symphony as it no doubt did to Tathar. Well, maybe not AS much, but certainly enough. Tathar had killed Mathas? And so soon after sending him out as errand boy? Now why would he do that? She did not understand these politics. She kept quiet while the Priestess rattled off about the horrors that Pandora had to endure while tathar whipped her servant. Why hadn't tathar stopped? It seemed he hadn't known, but...surely if he had paid any attention to her, he would have noticed?
She did not love, or at least, she never had yet. She did not know the pain that likely went on behind Tathar's eyes.
He gritted his teeth...a few of the back molars chipping a bit with the strain...but it helped to keep him in check...For some reason he felt...More in control...He felt empowered since the end of the moon phase...Why he did not know, but it was not important...at least not right now. Her words were a doubleedged sword...Cutting both ways...Pandora would most likely die...But there was a slim chance that she may not...But at least she still lived, as much as a vampire could be alive, of course, and that thought gave him comfort, even if all of it was by his hand...his own doing...And he began to wonder as to whether or not Pandora would be in this state if she had kept her mark on him...Would she be any better off if she had...? And did this...woman...even know about that? He thought it best to keep that safely tucked away for now. At the moment it could do no good for her...or for him.
The High Priestess corrected Symphony for the second time this evening.
Other then that, she didn't respond. Some people held on when they ought to just let go. It was not her place to change their reactions. Let Symphony believe that Pandora would pull through. Belief never hurt anyone, when hoping for the survival of another at the very least.
Of course, to take the reins of Tranquility at any given time was a disaster. Who wanted a little hick town in the middle of a forest, anyways? She had not volunteered for this position, but rather it had been voted by the Council and she had clearly lost. Why bring that up though? It didn't matter. What was done, was done. And she was here... Babysitting.
Tathar's words were a bit of a callon, but nomore so then his thoughts. Her next comments were casual, as if she had every right to speak them.
Her eye's then turned towards the ceiling, still speaking to the two of them.
Oh, she knew he didn't want it. His punishment as acting Master of the City, oh yes she knew about it, the NightWorld Council knew of the tomfooleray of such a thing, was enough to drive him mad. He would not want to be Master of the City, and thus in saying so she knew it would serve to irritate him.
She then paused, and drifted her eyes from teh ceiling downward to Symphony. No, reading her thoughts were always too difficult. The Lycans, however, were easy enough.
They could both sense a lie, for different reasons, but the High Priestess wasn't lying. She was simply.. Ommitting a few.. Minor details.
So that was it, then...? He was to be free of the seat for but a day and a night, and it was his once again, only this time in it's entirety...? No...that was not acceptable...Pandora still lived...He could tell...The fact that this upstart of a wench was still here told him that, as well as her words prior...He would not accept that...He could not. As long as Pandora LeAmour still existed as more than a pile of ash, then he was no such thing...While she still lived, he was but her second in command, and he would follow through with her duties as normal until she was fit enough to return to them herself...And this time her security came first...However, it seemed that this woman could read his thoughts...could sift through them easily, as he had spoken nothing of his musings on the mark that the vampire had gifted him with without his knowledge, and then removed it just the same....Interesting...He wondered how her mind would cope with the full effects of a lycan's thoughts in bloodlust? Would she change her merry tune, then...? Would she fall to all fours and emulate the canines...? Oh how he wanted to see it....Even after Mathas was gone, he was sent someone else to torment him by fate....Who, exactly, had he angered in a previous life...?
The High Priestess simply nodded her head, turning her full attention to Tathar since Symphony had not yet spoken to capture her attention.
She smiled that ghost grin of hers. Nothing cocky. Nothing confident. A simple smile that just didn't reach her eyes. Nothing ever did these days. It was who she was, afterall.
Pandora then rose from her chair, a cloaked hand held outward.
He huffed....He did not like this woman one single bit...She feigned everything...Nothing was serious to her, it seemed, and that was not a quality that he saw getting very far at all. At her mention of the Council replacing his cot her smirked...He didn't need it...He had a bed and a room here in the Tower, with Pandora...and as she asked if he would like to see Pandora...well...he showed no emotion at all, and even managed to keep his heart from doing anything out of the norm.
She gave a simple nod of her head, and turned her attention back to Symphony whom had remained silently seated in her chair whilte the ongoings between Priestess and Tathar had taken place.
Right here, in Pandoras, nay HIS chair.
She would continue to answer any and all of Symphony's questions until the young woman was ready to leave, her curiousity sated for the time being. Then she would remain sitting here, as she had no need to eat or drink. She obsorbed energy, and after the evenings events, had gotten quite enough of it.
He bid the woman a nod of farewell and moved to leave, the entire time, even as he travelled through William's room and up the drop via the pegs on the wall he very well expected her to somehow "poof" him back there in the meeting room...so he would take what precious little time he had and use it well...He would put aside all the niceties, all of the things he wanted to say and do what was important. Should he need her...? The woman must be daft...What on earth would he want her for? What did he need her for...? He shook the thoughts from his head and continued on into their chambers after pulling himself up onto the overhanging ledge. He moved straight for her form, then...noting the color she had turned...the motionlessness of her form...He had never once seen her this week...But in the grand scheme of things he had not known her for very long at all, now had he? Quickly he moved to kneel beside her, gently cuppint her cold face within his palm even as he moved his forearm toward his lips...She needed to feed...Desperately...He could tell that much at least...And the wench below did not want that to happen. His teeth clenched skin firmly, and he bit down, cleaving through a small section of his flesh, deep enough to allow a steady stream of hot blood to run from it, and this he positioned over her mouth, letting it run in...giving her strength...It was all that he could do for her.
Oh she was perfectly aware of the entering of someone into their chambers, though she was in no state to recognize who that may be. And when they approached her cot at a steady pace, her mind began to grow frantic. Just what she needed, someone to come and smite her when she had no chance of defending herself.
As that thought entered her mind, she had another, contradicting the first. Yes yes, come to me. Smite me. Stake me. Kill me. Let it be done.
When warm hands cupped hold of her ashen grey face, too warm. God, it felt nice. A slight ease in the painful recovery she was stubbornly attempting to make.
The smell of blood hit her before the first drop managed to dribble against her closed lips. It sat there, sliding from the grey skin and over her chin, even as more began to rain down. Not smite? Feed? Oh, feed!
It took all her strength to will her mouth open. Willing wasn't enough, and slowly she managed to force her jaws to part, for the lips to open. Dry skin stretched them until finally they broke free, and a small opening of her lips allowed the stream to enter into her mouth, down her throat.
Oh, now she knew who it was. Tathar. Tathar who did what he had to do, despite knowledge of what Mathas' death would do to her. She knew she was still in the right for not telling him, but damned if it didn't feel good to know he was right there, by her side, finally. What had taken him so long?
No no, no time to wonder. She could do that later. Right now, she just basked in the glory of the Lycans blood. Stronger blood. Blood that, hopefully, would help her heal better. Why, even now as it dribbled into her mouth and took the painfully slow treck down her throat, she could already feel it's magic hard at work.
A quiet gasp escaped her, too throaty to be a grunt. She wanted to talk to him. To apologize. To thank him. TO say everything she wanted to that may now never get the chance. She couldn't. And so she drank. The blood of the Lycan swishing down uncooperative pipes, into her very being. Each drop, less pain. Each drop, more possibility. Each drop, more aware. More stronger. More determined.
He just sat there, kneeling beside her, his free hand massaging the area above the wound, which even now was beginning to heal, urging more blood to flow out of him and into her, giving her all that he could muster in such a short amount of time. He knew that even if this worked that her recovery would likely be slow...but then again he was unfamiliar with the way vampires healed...especially after such an ordeal...He wanted to ask her why she had allowed him to follow through with Mathas' execution...why she had not told him what would happen...If he had known he would have been able to come to some sort of compromise...Even if it meant her marking him so that this entire mess could have been avoided...But it was too late for that, now...And so all he could do was wait....give himself unto her...at least until the wound closed enough that it no longer offered any more sustenance to her, at which point he pulled his arm back and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her brow before making his way out...He had an appointment with Trinity to keep, after all, and as much as he would like to stay and continue to feed her, he knew even more that she needed rest.
When her wounds began to heal, Pandora silently thanked the heavens, even though she didn't much believe in one god or goddess. She wasn't taking them for her, but for Tathar. For the Lycan that the NightWorld Council frowned upon.
And the brush of his warm lips upon her brow did not go unnoticed. The corners of her lips twitched ever so slightly, the most movement she could ask of them.
And when he stepped away, she longed to drag him back. To drink more. Take more. Share more. She longed simply for him near. To wait until she was able to heal completely. Oh, but how long that truely could take, even she did not know.
Surrendering to the darkness again, Pandora rested. It was still hours before the sun would rise, but she was in no condition to judge the time. She slipped back into the darkness to wait until a time would come where she was able to do more then just think.
The darkness, as always, welcomed her with open arms. Perhaps this is where she was meant to be. Right here, in the darkness that so embraced her.
The pain subsided, the blood ceased to seem from her, ceasing the struggle to keep it inside. All she could do now was wait. Wait and recover. She was Pandora LeAmour, Dammit. Master of the Hidden Realm fo Tranquility. Ruler of the NightWorld. Lover of the Lycan. She could survive a stupid servant dying. Oh how the Council would pay for this!
Pandora LeAmour
Symphony De Madrid
Tathar Seregon
Location: The Tower
Time: Sunset
It had been a long day for the High Priestess, popping in and out of rooms, trying to avoid anything that might resemble work, or for that matter, anyone that might want to speak with her. She was about ready to either heal or kill the Vampire as it was. This limbo thing was driving her crazy.
Right now, she was standing there beside the old Master of the City's cot, hovering. Yes, she said old. The High Priestess saw Pandora as nothing but the OLD Master of the City. The Vampire would die. She would not survive the death of her Human Servant. And then the High Priestess would be able to appoint a new Master of the City. A more obedient MotC.
Her eye's never left Pandora's sleeping form. The woman hadn't much moved since she had arrived two days ago. Her color had disenerated to an ashen unhealthy Grey appearance, and her expression had twisted up into a fit of rage or pain, the High Priestess couldn't decide which one, but other then that, Pandora LeAmour had been unmoving.
She would occassionally show signs of improving, but then again she showed signs of getting worse too. Right now, it was a waiting game. One that the High Priestess didn't enjoy playing. In her opinion, the Council should simply all agree to put Ms. LeAmour out of her misery and stake the Vampire already.
When it had been placed to vote the last time, there were three more supporting members for that idea, but they still had two more to go. The Council didn't do anything unless they ALL voted on the same results. Shame, really. If thing's were run differently, the High Priestess could have been back home by now, comfortably surrounded by her family. Instead, she was stuck here in a hole in the woods, waiting. Babysitting. How disgraceful.
Not for the first time in two days, the High Priestess considered simply taking thing's into her own hands and ending the Vampire LeAmour's struggle herself. Afterall, who would be the wiser to decide if the Vampire had simply died with the death of her Human Servant, or by the hands of another? Unfortunately, the Council always knew. They always watched. Even now, she could feel her seat members.
Of course, they couldn't ALWAYS be about. Afterall, they were missing one of their members right now...
Pandora wasn't completely unaware of what was going on in the room. Mind you, she couldn't gather details, and her mind was simply overloaded so much from the Mind Rolls, her energy drained from the loss of Mathas, that she couldn't really use any Master Vampire gifts. That didn't mean to say she couldn't sense that someone else was in the room with her. She could hear them move around occassionally.
However, they hadn't made any move towards her. They simply remained standing at a respectable distint away that Pandora felt on edge but not threatened. It only added to the discomfort.
And damn was it a discomfort. She didn't seem to have the strength to sit up. To move. To even open her eyes. She simply was. The wounds on her back were no longer seeping with her blood, or rather the blood of her latest victims, but neither had they healed completely. Now, they were simply puffy marks. At least they were no longer open sores.
Her face bunched up again, the strength to keep it expressionless all but absent in her. It felt like someone was draining her own life force. But that couldn't be, she no longer HAD a lifeforce, did she? Then why did it feel like someone was trying to shove a silver stake into her heart. It felt almost like they had managed to stake every other part of her body, and the silver was just eating away at her from the inside out.
If she could form a coherent thought, she probably would have wanted to kill the Council right about now. It was, afterall, their fault. They had forced her to make Mathas a servant. They knew. Oh, yes. She was certain they knew. Just as certain as she was that the presence next to her cot belonged to one of them. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it. Give it time... She would fight this, and she would win. This was one fight she was not willing to lose.
God, how frustrating it was to stand there and wait. The Vampire should have given up a long time ago. Unless... Someone snuck her a meal. But no, no one had been up there in the chambers excep.. Tathar. Oh, that Lycan had some explaining to do!
Within the next moment, the High Priestess was back within the walls of the Meeting Hall, making herself quite comfortable in the Master of the City's chair. She had no need to climb or jump from the upper level of the Tower to the ground. The beauty of being one of the NightWorld Council members.
The Tower itself had been relatively quiet today. As with every Moon Phase, it had been closed to business last evening so that the Master of the City could give her undivided attention to the shifting Lycans. Now, however, that the danger that posed was over with, the Tower was resuming it's usual business.
But if this was what Pandora called business, she had another thing coming. The High Priestess was already growing restless. Whatever had she done that was so bad that the rest of the Council had elected sending HER?
Her business at the smithery was finished long since, and while Symphony had never been able to find her.....creation.....she wasn't worried too much about it. She had been frantic, in a frenzy, and had probably melted down the damn thing anyway. And it wasn't as though it was...real. It was not a Pandoran. ((wow, that is a lot more ironic now that I think about it...)) She had not been able to master the fire. She was a failure. She now understood antoher great human failing: shame. Still, she was making her way to the Tower to check on him, to see if he had been by the shop yet, and to try to glean whether or not he had picked up anything amiss. She pretty much kept her cloak on her at all times, and was presently snuggled reassuringly within its folds as she worked her way through the tower. She knew that lycans had to be kept in the holding cell, but she rather figured he was likely done with that little problem, and so headed towards the meeting room, which aside from the holding cells, was the only room of the Tower she had been in. As was customary for her, she knocked twice on the door, then opened it accordingly, strolling in impassively. Her green eyes regarded the figure at the head of the table. ANOTHER new Master? Tranquility seemed to go through them like lemonade. Her face was quite impassive.
"Hello...I am looking for Master Seregon...Have you seen him?"
The woman's face didn't shift, didn't even so much as register that someone had arrived and was addressing her. Her eyes, the only thing that showed any signs of life, as they studied the woman standing before her. Promethean. Ah yes, that means that it had to be the one that went by the name of Symphony De Madrid.
The one whom had been tending to Hammerfall Forge, the Smithary that belonged to the Lycan Tathar Seregon, playtoy of Pandora LeAmour, Master of the City.
The High Priestess elected to speak out loud, never liking the way a voice sounded to a Promethean. With cool eye's still studying the thing standing before her, she addressed it.
"Mister Seregon is currently not here."
Obviously. The only two people right there in the meeting room was infact the High Priestess and the Promethean. Anyone could have seen that Tathar wasn't in attendance. Of course, she knew exactly where he was, but it was not her duty to disclose that information.
Symphony observed her just the same, with perhaps only a shadow of scientific curiosity. She stepped a bit closer.
"Obviously...but that does not answer my question. Have you seen him recently?"
She studied the woman, perhaps taking an internal poll, to see just how close to the real thing her mental inventory of this woman was. Pride, definitely. Envy? Most likely. Rage? Probably. Greed? Perhaps.
The woman unfolded her hands from her lap, and raised them to the same height of her shoulders, her palms not visible underneath the green robe she wore, though you could tell they were facing skyward as if to say who knows. Her voice was odd. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere both at the same time. It echoed and it ended. Loud and quiet. It was impossible to put into words.
"Of course I have seem him recently. He spent his prior evening under my watchful eye."
Also an answer that didn't really provide any details. It didn't establish where he was right this moment, and it didn't dispute her question at all. She offered no further explination.
She tilted her head the opposite direction, took another step closer. ah, how fascinating these nightworld types were! Always good value. Pride indeed. Rage, not so much. The rest? Uncertain.
"And when will you see him next?"
She thought about it for a split second, then added useless information as an afterthought.
"I'd greatly like to see him."
A single slender eyebrow rose. The Promethean certainly asked a lot of questions from someone they didn't know.
"Good Heavens, Child. I am not his keeper."
And then it dawned on her. Technically, she was his keeper. She lowered her hands back to her lap before she ammended her previous answer.
"I suspect he shall be arriving much sooner then you think."
A ghosty smile spread across her lips, even as she spoke. She could already pinpoint Tathar Seregon's exact location. And, given a nice estimate, would be arriving in the Meeting Hall within the next three to five minutes.
The corners of her lips twicthed ever so slightly, but still she did not smile. She wondered for the first time who this woman was.
"I would like to see the woman who COULD claim to be his keeper. He rather seems like the type to chew through whatever leash one would attempt to put on him. Metaphorical or otherwise."
She was getting better at Metaphors. She was understanding them in the same way she was understanding Sarcasm. After all, foreign languages were not that difficult to learn.
"You are very good at not answering questions. almost as good as I am. Who are you, to so avoid curiousity? Is it because of shame or arrogance? Both are very human drawbacks, you know."
And the Council member's estimate was not too terribly far from it's mark, either, as he soon appeared, removing his cloak, having just returned from his shop, and his expression was one of a rather sour disposition...Symphony had left the smithy in terrible condition...His tools were rusty for some reason, his tables were covered in oil, the forge was burning unchecked, he was out of matches, and there had been a little strange puppet-like contraption that seemed as if it had been made by the hands of a drunken monkey sitting just behind his counter....Oh, she was going to pay...He could polish the tools well enough, but he would have to buy more matches, and he would have to smelt down the "doll", and he would simply have to tolerate an oily work surface for the next few weeks...This left him very, very displeased, as he had instructed her to mind the shop, not try to forge anything...She was supposed to simply have been a clerk, and nothing more...and therefore, since he would have to correct so very many mistakes she was not going to recieve payment of any kind. She did not, after all, deserve it. When he entered he tossed his cloak to the chair he would be occupying from here on out...the one that was reserved for the Temoin, and he glanced between the two of them.
The haunting laughter that drifted from around the room was clearly hers, and yet it didn't come directly from her. Instead, it seemed to seep in from the four walls and drifting inward towards them there near or at the table.
"I am far from human, my dear child. You may call me High Priestess, for that is what I am. A member of the NightWorld Council, and thus ease your own curiousity. For a Promethean you certainly do.. Ah lookie there. I do believe your search as come to an end."
Her head turned ever so slowly so that she could look upon the archway that led into the Meeting Room without needing to stare anywhere but directly infront of her. And but a moment later, Tathar appeared. Her voice, echoing from all angles within the room, greeted him.
"Symphony De Madrid for you, Mister Seregon."
She watched in silence as Tathar tossed aside his cloak onto the chair directly to the High Priestess right, the chair reserved for the Temoin. Pandora's Temoin, when she were here to occupy the seat of Master of the City. Quite frankly, the High Priestess was settling in quite comfortably in the Vampires deginated seat.
She nodded, content with the Priestess' answer. At least she knew the right thing to call her, and a general idea of who she was. Oh, but she wanted to know what went on behind that placid demeanor!
"Thank you, Master High Priestess. And hello, Master Seregon...I trust you are pleased with the work I have done with your smithy?"
He smirked at the....High Priestess'...words...and her echoing laugh...If she really needed such dramatic theatrics to get her point across, then she was seriously lacking in the physical abilities to make herself appear to be in a seat of power...even though she was seated within the chair for the Master of the City...Fine, he could tolerate that, for now at least...As soon as he had a spare moment he would sneak up another meal for Pandora...though, it would not be anything like what was served in the feeding rooms...No, what he smuggled needed no more lugging up those pegs in the wall any more than he already did...He would feed her of himself, of course...It was much more effective that way...At least that is what it appeared to be, in any case. Therefore, he ignored the visiting Council member's words and turned directly to Symphony...a rumbling growl issuing forth from his throat before he spoke. And normally today, the day after the violent change each month, he was so very...bubbly.
"Pleased...? You caused more damage than anything else. I will be using what would have been your pay to compensate for my losses...And not a single customer the entire time, either! And you have the nerve to ask if I am pleased?! I think not!"
Such squibble squabble between the two of them. It was always so tiring. And yet, the High Priestess didn't make a move to leave her seat. She wasn't asked to speak, and wasn't required to, but just sitting here? Why, that would get mighty boring.
"Well, come now Lad. Did you expect anything else? She is a Promethean, for heavens sakes. You can hardly garnish her wages because she acted according to her own beliefs."
Her eye's watched Tathar for an expression. Oh, so he would try to sneak Pandora another meal, would he now? Perhaps it was time to have the Vamprie moved to another location in the Tower. Perhaps even outside the Tower itself?
A single eyebrow rose as she watched him, and then turning her head, gazed upon the one calling herself a De Madrid.
And there it was, flaring up again at the most importune times, her Disquiet, bubbling out around her. She did not flinch, but a trifle of (shame)...something she did not recognize rippled through her. She did not like it at all, but managed to keep her face impassive.
"You are displeased after all, Master Seregon? I apologize, that was not my intent. I care not of my wages--I have alread discussed that with you-- but I do not wish to incur your displeasure. The satisfaction that I would glean from observing it would not overcome my...."
But she couldnt finish that sentence. Shame was so easy to apply to others, so difficult to admit for once's self. Instead she turned half gratefully, half accusingly to the HP.
"Acted? I tried to act according to the orders that mathas told me--mind the shop, keep it clean, tend to the needs of the customers...I wanted to see what appeal it held to such an impressive lycan...that is all, nothing more, nothing to do with my beliefs..."
Still a memory kept haunting her, the memory of a half baked childdoll, emerging from the flames, red hot, burning her hands so as she withdrew it with her bare hands.
He growled again, though this time it was much more feral sounding...And it was directed to the both of them. He did not want to hear excuses on the matter, no matter whom they came from...He had lost money, something that was growing ever more needed in the world. Why, he surmised that there would come a day when one could not live at all if they did not have the coin to pay for their very own lives. Imagine that...being taxed just for living...A dreadful thought, but the way the realms he had travelled through acted it was growing...looming ever near. And that fact is the reason he was so very upset about it...And the fact that her disquiet flared up did not help matters in the least...Rather, they fanned their flames much like that of the bellows within his forge, which thankfully enough had gone unscathed from Symphony's presence...They were very expensive, after all...And as the wave of uncomfortableness met him he lashed out....His speed of course was clearly inhuman...but right before the flat of his palm struck the construct's face he locked in his shoulder and elbow, stopping the blow altogether...He did not act like this, and he did not like it in the least...Lowering his arm and mentally trying to will the hairs on the back of his neck to stand down rather than straight up in the air he gave her one more glare, and this he shared with the High Priestess before he stalked off toward the drop room...He wanted to be well away from both of them, right now.
She simply sat there, watching as Tathar lost his cool. Such a Lycan thing to do. Entertaining, at the very least. When he failed to deliver the blow in which he obviously intended to take, the High Priestess eyebrow shot up in curiousity. He obviously had a respectable level of control, for the most part at the very least.
Still, she sat there and watched his retreating form. She even allowed him to get so far as to the archway of Williams Room before she bothered doing anything about it. A single snapping sound, and Tathar's form disappeared from the archway of Williams Room and appeared once more in the Meeting Room, at the end of the table there.
Her face was a complex of amusement, irritation and boredom.
"I do not believe I granted you the permission to leave, Tathar Seregon."
Oh yes. She did it. Someone had to do it. It had to be done.
Tathar would probably be going through a whirl of thing's and emotions right now. Confusion. Shock. Discomfort. Queezy. And all the High Priestess did was sit there, watching between the two of them. She wondered which would be more entertained. Tathar Seregon or Symphony De Madrid.
She imagined Tathar would go through it all. Shocked, until the Queeziness took over him. Confusion as he realized he was back in the Meeting Room. Anger and rage as he came to terms with what the hell just happened.
Whereas she imagined the Promethean's reaction a bit differently. Shock. Curiousity. More Curiousity, perhaps?
Symphony was, of course, very curious, but she was not stupid. She closed her eyes and threw up her hands in defense against Tathar's blow--she had worse things done to her by humans before, of course, but that hadn't been an experience she was eager to repeat. She had thrown up her still-gloved hands in expectation, but the blow never came.
And the woman--the woman didn't even seem to notice Symphony's "little problem" at all...Curious, ecstatic, she stook another step towards the woman, to see if the proximity affected her.
"I said I was sorry, Master Seregon, is that not enough? I will come tomorrow to fix wahtever I can."
He had started to move on to William's room, and therefore onwards to the drop room where he could go and visit within their quarters when a very strange sensation overcame him...He felt...dizzy...and his stomach was threatening to void itself of the meager meal he had allowed himself earlier...or rather, the tiny bits that were left of it that had yet to be digested...and he simply turned to them...a confused look on his eyes for the moment, mind working over exactly what had just happened, as well as what to do about it...therefore, he unmeaningly ignored Symphony's words.
She knew perfectly well what the Promethean was attempting to do, even as she took another step towards her. Nothing she did could give her the results that de Madrid wanted. The High Priestess wasn't really here. She had no body to make uncomfortable. She had no emotions, no physical being. Nothing. She simply.. Was.
The NightWorld Council consisted of Lycans, Vampires, and other beings that were more of a spiritual form rather then any material form. It just so happens that the High Priestess was considered a little bit of all and none of these. She was a mystery unto herself, and one no one quite knew the limits of.
Her eye's stayed upon the Lycan, watching. She had no reason to glance elsewhere, since it would only serve to feed the curious mind o the Promethean.
"Now then. Since we are all back together again, please"
The High Priestess gestured towards the table, where two single chairs slid out, mindedly neither of them were to the right or left of her, but rather further down teh table.
"Sit."
She wasn't hurt by Tathar's unmitigated silence--the way that she saw it, he said nothing, therefore he was not going to chastize her again. She...didn't like being chastized. She turned to watch the magic show, and chose the closer of the two chairs to the Priestess. And then, she tried as ubobtrusively as possible to scoot her chair closer to the Priestess. It was as it was with Sotharian--she just wanted to be around anyone whom could bear to be around her without....well, wanting to first destroy her, then claw off their own skin. She folded those massively gloved hands in front of her, and looked expectantly.
"Are you the new Master of the City, Master High Priestess?
Only then did her words register to him...and he took the time to think about them....No...She was never to be allowed within the smithy ever again unless she was a paying customer...She had harmed far too much...as well as the fact that his tools were antiques...they were far older than she was, and nearly as much as he...And as the High Priestess bade them sit, two chairs conveniantly moving out for them, he instead chose to defy her yet again, moving around the table and toward his own chair...something that he rather thought might cause her to try that little trick again...It made him curious....And he wanted to test something....A possibility that her shield might not be able to completely deflect...but only if she used it again.
The High Priestess turned her eyes upon Symphony as she addressed her direct question. Technically, the High Priestess always answered direct questions. Perhaps it wasn't always the answer one wanted, but it was always a reply at the very least. This time was absolutely no exception.
"Just High Priestess, child. I care not for the Master title. To answer your question, you can consider me the temporary Master of the City, for the time being. The old Master of the City is dead, and I am simply here overseeing her duties until..."
Her eye's then slid to Tathar accusingly.
"an appropiate replacement can be located."
Alright, so the Master of the City wasn't technically done yet. Until she sat but a pile of ash, she was still considered Master of the City. The High Priestess didnt' expect her to recover. The deal, in her opinion at the very least, was as good as done. And seeing as the majority of the NightWorld Council consisted of Vampires, beings whom did not like Lycans nearly as much as the current Master of the City did, they weren't about to hand over control of the city to one.
She didn't have time to add any other thoughts or comments to what had already been spoken, for the movement of the Lycan caught her attention. A single slender brow rose as he approached her and claimed the chair directly to her right. Ah well, let him have it while it lasts. When Pandora died, and she most certainly would in her opinion, Tathar would lose his chair. He would not become Master of the City. A Lycan simply couldnt. Who would run the world during Moon Phases? Yes, let him enjoy his small seat of power for now.
She did, however, address him.
"I am sure you have questions as well Tathar Seregon. I heard quite a few of them two eve's ago after the death of Mathas Compton passed on. Please..."
She gestured again towards the table.
"Feel free to air them. It is, afterall, my duty."
She blinked slowly. Lies were something that confused her, more because of what she was, her paradoxal nature. Her Master had created her, told her she was beautiful, told her he loved her...then told her she disgusted him, and abandoned her...she was good at spotting them, bad at dealing with them.
"But surely Pandora is not slain? She was far too powerful for that, and even besides, she was too arrogant to die. Whyfor do you say it is so?"
The idea for a replacement didn't strike her. She really didn't think Pandora, she of pride and rage, would have fallen without every single nightworlder knowing about it. And surely William as her servant, or Tathar as her friend, would have told everyone? The only funeral she had been to was her own, and she hadn't exactly been around to remember it.
But something else caught her attention, and she rose quite suddenly.
"The death of Mathas Compton? His execution was carried out?"
She had of course known that it was inevitable, but she rather thought she would have heard something....but that wasn't what convinced her. She thought of her doll baby, lost somewhere at the smith. She had to practice more, but....when the time came...perhaps...perhaps...she could create another. It would not be a Pandoran, of course, she could never create a Pandoran--but it--HE--would carry the same title she called herself...after her bastard Master...he would also be a Galateid Promethean...and he would be just as beautiful as she.
She sat back down, and a smile crossed her face for the first time...well, ever.
And, of course, as fate would have it she chose not to do that little effect again...Disappointing, to say the least...He had a family hairloom that he wished to share with her, even though he was unsure of how effective, if at all, it would be here in the lands. He had tried it only one right after his moving here, and it had not worked at all...Buty maybe time corrected that? He would find out eventually. So for now he contented himself with sitting down, in HIS chair, and listening to the woman's words as she sat in PANDORA's chair...A temporary occurance, he was sure...and if it wasn't, then he would make it otherwise...But upon her mention of Pandora being dead he froze...unmoving...unbreathing...Surely that was a lie...He could not tell...Reading her words...her body language was just as difficult as reading Pandora's....And she would not even let him to their chambers....And he could not believe that the gossip surrounding Mathas' death had not managed to reach the ears of Symphony...as she seemed very curious about it....
"Why did Pandora bleed when I killed Mathas...?"
Oh, so little thing's these beings knew. They were smack in the middle of it all and yet they appeared to know absolutely nothing. The High Priestess wasn't certain if this was disappointing or would prove useful. Either way, she didn't react to either. Tathar himself had just answered Symphony's inquiry as to Mathas' execution and thus she had no need to address it. Instead, she addressed the remainder of their inquiries.
Her voice was gentle but unemotive. Empty.
"Mathas was Pandora LeAmour's human servant. When a Master Vampire makes a human servant, they are in turn linked to each other. Through their human servant, a Vampire can taste, feel, touch. Experience the world in which they do not live in. When Mathas broke the law, and was sentenced, Pandora being linked to him, suffered alongside him. Whatever Mathas thought, whatever Mathas touched, ate, felt, Pandora in turn did as well."
She then turned her eye's to Tathar, wanting to see his expression as she voiced the truth that Pandora had never shared with him. Her expression remained empty even now.
"For every wound Mathas received, Pandora received. For every painful whip that brought Mathas closer to his death, also brought Pandora closer to hers."
Her eye's then returned to the Promethean.
"It is very rare to find a Master Vampire that survive the death of their Human Servant. So rare, infact, that the Council sent me to ensure that Tranquility remains within the law while they seek out a suitable replacement. We are very secretive and do not care to announce the deaths that take place within the NightWorld to anyone, outside or otherwise. If we did so, the news would be neverending. There are approximately seven thousand deaths at the NightWorld hands a day. Could you not imagine the outbreak that would cause should each one become public knowledge?"
The High Priestess then folded her hands in her lap, hidden beneath the many layers of fabric that composed her robe.
"When a new Master of the City is appointed, and all dust to lead from the trace of Pandora's existance has been erased, the announcment of the new placement will be on record. Until then, it is best to be kept underwind. To better prevent an uproar before Tranquility has a new ruling member, understand. Pandora is no more. Her being died, when her human servant died. The rest of her will go, too, in time. Ironic, no?"
The High Priestess then paused, before continuing, her eye's slowly returning to Tathar.
"That she go by her lovers hand. A Lycan, though. It was to be expected one way or the other."
This news came quite as much a surprise to Symphony as it no doubt did to Tathar. Well, maybe not AS much, but certainly enough. Tathar had killed Mathas? And so soon after sending him out as errand boy? Now why would he do that? She did not understand these politics. She kept quiet while the Priestess rattled off about the horrors that Pandora had to endure while tathar whipped her servant. Why hadn't tathar stopped? It seemed he hadn't known, but...surely if he had paid any attention to her, he would have noticed?
"Ah, if there is one thing I have learned, it is not to count the stitches until they are sewn. I think Pandora will likely pull through, Master Priestess. Regardless, you chose a very poor time indeed to take the reins. Mathas was not the only one seeking to sew disquiet--no pun intended--through the lands."
She did not love, or at least, she never had yet. She did not know the pain that likely went on behind Tathar's eyes.
He gritted his teeth...a few of the back molars chipping a bit with the strain...but it helped to keep him in check...For some reason he felt...More in control...He felt empowered since the end of the moon phase...Why he did not know, but it was not important...at least not right now. Her words were a doubleedged sword...Cutting both ways...Pandora would most likely die...But there was a slim chance that she may not...But at least she still lived, as much as a vampire could be alive, of course, and that thought gave him comfort, even if all of it was by his hand...his own doing...And he began to wonder as to whether or not Pandora would be in this state if she had kept her mark on him...Would she be any better off if she had...? And did this...woman...even know about that? He thought it best to keep that safely tucked away for now. At the moment it could do no good for her...or for him.
"Just know this...If she dies, I will do my best to make sure that your seat is empty...for as long as I have breath to do so..."
The High Priestess corrected Symphony for the second time this evening.
"High Priestess."
Other then that, she didn't respond. Some people held on when they ought to just let go. It was not her place to change their reactions. Let Symphony believe that Pandora would pull through. Belief never hurt anyone, when hoping for the survival of another at the very least.
Of course, to take the reins of Tranquility at any given time was a disaster. Who wanted a little hick town in the middle of a forest, anyways? She had not volunteered for this position, but rather it had been voted by the Council and she had clearly lost. Why bring that up though? It didn't matter. What was done, was done. And she was here... Babysitting.
Tathar's words were a bit of a callon, but nomore so then his thoughts. Her next comments were casual, as if she had every right to speak them.
"You can try your tricks on me all you like. They do not work on my being. You'll only serve to irritate yourself."
Her eye's then turned towards the ceiling, still speaking to the two of them.
"It is not your place to determin the seating of anything, Tathar Seregon. You killed Pandora LeAmour, thus you are rightful Master of the City. Your Smithary will be closed and tore down. You will remain on the seat until someone tears you down. I wouldn't sleep, if I were you Tathar Seregon. There are more Vampires then Lycans in the NightWorld and they will not take kindly to being ruled by you. Prepair yourself. You are Master of the City. You killed the current Master, to claim her title. Her duty. It falls on you."
Oh, she knew he didn't want it. His punishment as acting Master of the City, oh yes she knew about it, the NightWorld Council knew of the tomfooleray of such a thing, was enough to drive him mad. He would not want to be Master of the City, and thus in saying so she knew it would serve to irritate him.
"You will be viewed as the most powerful Lycan of your kind. You will be worshiped by many. Seduced the Vampire into trusting you. Killing, not only her, but her Human Servant and gaining her title. It is a new day for you."
She then paused, and drifted her eyes from teh ceiling downward to Symphony. No, reading her thoughts were always too difficult. The Lycans, however, were easy enough.
"Had she kept her mark upon you, it would have broken the hold on Mathas and the death of him would have not affected Pandora LeAmour in the slightest. We advised such a thing, she refused."
They could both sense a lie, for different reasons, but the High Priestess wasn't lying. She was simply.. Ommitting a few.. Minor details.
(Symphony disappears)
So that was it, then...? He was to be free of the seat for but a day and a night, and it was his once again, only this time in it's entirety...? No...that was not acceptable...Pandora still lived...He could tell...The fact that this upstart of a wench was still here told him that, as well as her words prior...He would not accept that...He could not. As long as Pandora LeAmour still existed as more than a pile of ash, then he was no such thing...While she still lived, he was but her second in command, and he would follow through with her duties as normal until she was fit enough to return to them herself...And this time her security came first...However, it seemed that this woman could read his thoughts...could sift through them easily, as he had spoken nothing of his musings on the mark that the vampire had gifted him with without his knowledge, and then removed it just the same....Interesting...He wondered how her mind would cope with the full effects of a lycan's thoughts in bloodlust? Would she change her merry tune, then...? Would she fall to all fours and emulate the canines...? Oh how he wanted to see it....Even after Mathas was gone, he was sent someone else to torment him by fate....Who, exactly, had he angered in a previous life...?
"I shall do my regular duties until further notice, then. And that includes running my shop."
The High Priestess simply nodded her head, turning her full attention to Tathar since Symphony had not yet spoken to capture her attention.
"Of course. By all means, tend to the little shop. There is nothing here for you at the moment. It may be best to spend a great deal of time there. The Council will happily replace your cot."
She smiled that ghost grin of hers. Nothing cocky. Nothing confident. A simple smile that just didn't reach her eyes. Nothing ever did these days. It was who she was, afterall.
"Ms. LeAmour will be needing all the rest she can if she is not to let you folks down."
Pandora then rose from her chair, a cloaked hand held outward.
"Would you like to see her before you are on your way, Tathar Seregon?"
He huffed....He did not like this woman one single bit...She feigned everything...Nothing was serious to her, it seemed, and that was not a quality that he saw getting very far at all. At her mention of the Council replacing his cot her smirked...He didn't need it...He had a bed and a room here in the Tower, with Pandora...and as she asked if he would like to see Pandora...well...he showed no emotion at all, and even managed to keep his heart from doing anything out of the norm.
"Aye, I would. Alone...And away from your surveillance. Do not worry, I will not be long."
She gave a simple nod of her head, and turned her attention back to Symphony whom had remained silently seated in her chair whilte the ongoings between Priestess and Tathar had taken place.
"Very Well. If you need me, you do know where I can be found."
Right here, in Pandoras, nay HIS chair.
She would continue to answer any and all of Symphony's questions until the young woman was ready to leave, her curiousity sated for the time being. Then she would remain sitting here, as she had no need to eat or drink. She obsorbed energy, and after the evenings events, had gotten quite enough of it.
He bid the woman a nod of farewell and moved to leave, the entire time, even as he travelled through William's room and up the drop via the pegs on the wall he very well expected her to somehow "poof" him back there in the meeting room...so he would take what precious little time he had and use it well...He would put aside all the niceties, all of the things he wanted to say and do what was important. Should he need her...? The woman must be daft...What on earth would he want her for? What did he need her for...? He shook the thoughts from his head and continued on into their chambers after pulling himself up onto the overhanging ledge. He moved straight for her form, then...noting the color she had turned...the motionlessness of her form...He had never once seen her this week...But in the grand scheme of things he had not known her for very long at all, now had he? Quickly he moved to kneel beside her, gently cuppint her cold face within his palm even as he moved his forearm toward his lips...She needed to feed...Desperately...He could tell that much at least...And the wench below did not want that to happen. His teeth clenched skin firmly, and he bit down, cleaving through a small section of his flesh, deep enough to allow a steady stream of hot blood to run from it, and this he positioned over her mouth, letting it run in...giving her strength...It was all that he could do for her.
Oh she was perfectly aware of the entering of someone into their chambers, though she was in no state to recognize who that may be. And when they approached her cot at a steady pace, her mind began to grow frantic. Just what she needed, someone to come and smite her when she had no chance of defending herself.
As that thought entered her mind, she had another, contradicting the first. Yes yes, come to me. Smite me. Stake me. Kill me. Let it be done.
When warm hands cupped hold of her ashen grey face, too warm. God, it felt nice. A slight ease in the painful recovery she was stubbornly attempting to make.
The smell of blood hit her before the first drop managed to dribble against her closed lips. It sat there, sliding from the grey skin and over her chin, even as more began to rain down. Not smite? Feed? Oh, feed!
It took all her strength to will her mouth open. Willing wasn't enough, and slowly she managed to force her jaws to part, for the lips to open. Dry skin stretched them until finally they broke free, and a small opening of her lips allowed the stream to enter into her mouth, down her throat.
Oh, now she knew who it was. Tathar. Tathar who did what he had to do, despite knowledge of what Mathas' death would do to her. She knew she was still in the right for not telling him, but damned if it didn't feel good to know he was right there, by her side, finally. What had taken him so long?
No no, no time to wonder. She could do that later. Right now, she just basked in the glory of the Lycans blood. Stronger blood. Blood that, hopefully, would help her heal better. Why, even now as it dribbled into her mouth and took the painfully slow treck down her throat, she could already feel it's magic hard at work.
A quiet gasp escaped her, too throaty to be a grunt. She wanted to talk to him. To apologize. To thank him. TO say everything she wanted to that may now never get the chance. She couldn't. And so she drank. The blood of the Lycan swishing down uncooperative pipes, into her very being. Each drop, less pain. Each drop, more possibility. Each drop, more aware. More stronger. More determined.
He just sat there, kneeling beside her, his free hand massaging the area above the wound, which even now was beginning to heal, urging more blood to flow out of him and into her, giving her all that he could muster in such a short amount of time. He knew that even if this worked that her recovery would likely be slow...but then again he was unfamiliar with the way vampires healed...especially after such an ordeal...He wanted to ask her why she had allowed him to follow through with Mathas' execution...why she had not told him what would happen...If he had known he would have been able to come to some sort of compromise...Even if it meant her marking him so that this entire mess could have been avoided...But it was too late for that, now...And so all he could do was wait....give himself unto her...at least until the wound closed enough that it no longer offered any more sustenance to her, at which point he pulled his arm back and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her brow before making his way out...He had an appointment with Trinity to keep, after all, and as much as he would like to stay and continue to feed her, he knew even more that she needed rest.
When her wounds began to heal, Pandora silently thanked the heavens, even though she didn't much believe in one god or goddess. She wasn't taking them for her, but for Tathar. For the Lycan that the NightWorld Council frowned upon.
And the brush of his warm lips upon her brow did not go unnoticed. The corners of her lips twitched ever so slightly, the most movement she could ask of them.
And when he stepped away, she longed to drag him back. To drink more. Take more. Share more. She longed simply for him near. To wait until she was able to heal completely. Oh, but how long that truely could take, even she did not know.
Surrendering to the darkness again, Pandora rested. It was still hours before the sun would rise, but she was in no condition to judge the time. She slipped back into the darkness to wait until a time would come where she was able to do more then just think.
The darkness, as always, welcomed her with open arms. Perhaps this is where she was meant to be. Right here, in the darkness that so embraced her.
The pain subsided, the blood ceased to seem from her, ceasing the struggle to keep it inside. All she could do now was wait. Wait and recover. She was Pandora LeAmour, Dammit. Master of the Hidden Realm fo Tranquility. Ruler of the NightWorld. Lover of the Lycan. She could survive a stupid servant dying. Oh how the Council would pay for this!
