Rosept Hall

Candle light flickered and danced along with the fire of the hearth inside Farith’s chamber. A wry smile laid on the woman’s face while she listened to the even breathing of the man splayed on her naked body. His sweat assault her nose and the reeking stench of booze from his breath. All the same, Farith rose a hand to stroke ghostly fingers through his once-dark matte of curly hair. Now it was white as snow from the man's age. It was as if he were a child come to find comfort at his mother’s breast.
A great push was given and Farith’s voluptuous frame was released of the man’s burden. It was unfortunate he had rolled over so much that her lover thumped to the fur-laden floor. The blood mage paid him no mind knowing the drunkard would not wake if the entire guildhall had come crashing around his ears. Farith had made sure his drink had been extra potent before it was served by her page.
Rising from the bed, the woman moved like a feline toward the table with the firelight moving maliciously in her eyes. Farith sat in the chair, not finding the cold to be discomforting, and plucked up her quill before setting it to parchment.

It is my solemn duty to inform the Remnants of the Circle that The Chronicler and The Sentinel serving at Rosept Hall have fallen in line of duty protecting the Realm. It is at this grave

The man on the floor began snoring and Farith looked back upon him with dead eyes. Many seconds passed before the woman continued writing her notice.

It is at this grave discovery that I am sending you this letter. For the moment, as remaining Scholar at Rosept Hall, I will serve as The Chronicler in hope that a more suitable replacement is sent soon.

After Farith had written her signature, the woman placed it in an envelope. Red wax was poured onto the folds of the envelope before the blood mage pressed the guild’s sigil into it. A disturbingly calm smile spread along the woman’s pallid face before she rose from the table.
A knife was taken up from the mantle hung over the hearth. Farith shivered but it was not from the heat caressing her naked breasts and thighs. Stooping, the man was grabbed by his hair while still sleeping, and the knife was run across his throat in a delicate slice. The man’s eyes flew wide open in shock while he choked on his own life’s liquid. Blood frothed between his lips while it poured from the clean gash. Farith’s hand tightened in his hair while the man started to convulse violently.
And when all his blood has spilled, the blood mage Farith sat herself on the stained rugs and gave him one last graze of her fingers along his cheek.
“You were always a foolish man,” Farith said down to whom had been The Chronicler.

An elegant woman clad in a silk cloak with a deep hood sat in the main chamber of Rosept Hall. The fire in the hearth provided much warmth to ward off the cold chill that always permeated the air so far into the mountain. The light from the flickering flames danced across her shimmering drape and cast an eerie glow against her pallid flesh.
In the thin fingers of Farith Volantis was a piece of parchment announcing a new arrival to the guild. It was most interesting to have learned what species of individual was going to be staying in her hall. Such a thought made a shadowed and seductive smile spread across her luscious lips. Even with her ghostly appearance, Farith was hauntingly beautiful touched with grace to every movement the woman made.
“Come,” the silken voice rang out in the nearly empty hall. “Come closer and let me have a close look at you.” Farith outstretched her hand to beckon the boy closer to her, each digit on her hand curling backwards in a fluid motion.

The teenager who looked to be about eighteen-ish came at the woman's call. Of course, he wasn't exactly your typical human teen, at least, not completely human. The dragonkin slowly stepped forward towards the woman, staring at her curiously. He gave a small shudder at the way she seemed to look at him, but managed to walk forward bravely.

Djarren had been called, and come he did, closing the door gently behind him. The light melted into his sky-blue skin, and glinted off the not-so-common horns on the back of his head. He stepped cautiously. What could the highest ranking person in the guild want with a new arrival? It might be commonplace, and yet there was much he did not know.

"Y-yes, Miss..erm...Chronicler." he stumbled over the title, struggling to remember the word he had heard only a few times. There were two others, but they did not seem to be present. He stared towards her chest, more so that he would not meet her gaze than because of any perverted notion.

A melodious laugh bubbled from the woman when Farith saw how nervous the young dragonkin appeared before her. When the Chronicler saw how Djarren looked upon her breast with intensity in his gaze, or perhaps it was fear she saw, Farith rose from her wooden seat. Nimble fingers unclasped the cloak at her throat and she draped it across the table. Such a fine material could not hold onto the stone of the circular table and slid down to the floor with a whisper.
“Madame Volantis shall do,” Farith said with a finely manicured brow arched on her forehead which was devoid of any wrinkles. A sliver of taut thigh moved forth from the slit in her dress as the woman moved for Djarren. Her cold fingers took up his face and Farith smile down at him while her eyes smoldered with great interest.
The touch upon his chin only lasted but for a few moments before she grabbed up his arm. Her fingers stroked the tender flesh of his wrist and upon Farith’s face grew a strange but entrancing smile.
“Welcome to the Remnants of the Circle, Djarren the Dragonkin. We have much to speak of, you and I. As Chronicler, it is my duty to gather as much information on the world as I can until my dying breath. You must tell me the secrets of your races,” the woman suggested while continuing to run those smooth but stone-cold fingers along his forearm.
An approving hum sounded in the back of her throat as Djarren’s pulse was felt beneath Farith’s finger tips.

"Madame Volantis, then." he said firmly. Djarren managed to compose himself as his eyes followed her body, however temporarily. He wasn't just any child, he was a dragonkin, and that had to mean something. Despite the nervousness bubbling in his chest, there was also an excitement, the excitement to learn something he didn't know before. He was aware of his attention deficit, as his eyes flickered across the room, taking in what he had not before, which included the rest of Farith.

He gave another shiver as her hand touched his face, but as calmly as possible met her gaze. God, was that weird. Did all guild leaders find random reasons to touch their new recruits? This would be noted for later reference.

"Thank you, Madame Volantis." he replied. "I hope to serve and gather information well under you." He gave a quick bow to break the eye contact briefly. Her emphasis on his race's name rang a bit strange, but who was he to question the leader? The stroking was getting a little weird. He couldn't hold back one more shiver at the cold and discomfort of the touch.

"Is there anything you would like to know of, Madame?" he inquired, simply to cover up how creeped out he was.

Teeth as white as pearls showed through Farith’s smile as she watched Djarren far too closely. Her chin lifted causing her thick lashes to veil her eyes heavily. And yet, even with her gaze obscured, Farith never stopped staring down at the dragonkin with the same intensity.
“I wish to know everything of you bloodline,” the woman said with her tongue lulling a song in her mouth. Her voice was beautiful and held the attention of those that heard Farith’s words. Each and every syllable she spoke told ears of her sexuality but also, deep down, there was something forbidden as well. It was a delicate balance of fear and desire.
The chilled fingers slid from Djarren’s wrist hesitantly as if Farith did not wish to break contact with the dragonkin. “Your kind is such a rare sight and I have not read a single tome of your kind dated in our current age. Rosept Hall would be much honored if we were the first to document the inner workings of your race, my treasured acolyte,” Farith sung in his ears.
Her eyes bored into Djarren for a long span of time and the woman did not speak. It was as if speaking would break a spell being woven between the two and yet, there was none being fabricated.

It wasn't necessarily spell, but there was something in the air between the two. Djarren gave a small smile, shifting his feet as he felt her slightly hidden gaze upon him. Farith was eyeing him almost like a predator and its prey, and he felt the urge to bolt off away, into the outside and be anywhere, anywhere but there.

And then the feeling passed. Despite the heavy feeling, he had to say something. "Apologies, Madame Volantis, I did not study much history before my travels. I only know so much, however, I will be happy to tell you anything I know." he offered, flinching at the word blood. Strange place to focus on, but maybe she was just genuinely curious about his race.

"I hope that you will teach me something as well, Madame. I come to learn as well as to give." He gave her his best shot at friendly grin, but hoping that it wouldn't be insubordinate. Thankfually, the cold feeling was gone from his limbs, and he quickly brought his hands together instinctively, rubbing them.

Nervously shifting again under her stare, he quietly returned it, unsure of her intentions, trying to read under her eyes. Something was different about this woman, and he intended to find out, sooner or later, what it was.

“I see,” Farith said in a disappointed tone. A small frown touched the edges of her lips for just a breath’s moment. It was an expression alien to her visage and one that seemed to not belong. But then it was replaced with the subtle smile Farith always wore with grace.
“I dare say that my hopes have been dimmed but, no matter,” the woman said waving a hand through the air as if dismissing the disappointment Djarren had caused Farith. It seemed he was forgiven but there was a lingering sensation that such an occurrence would only happen once and never again.
“Tell me, my dear acolyte, of what you wish to learn and it shall be taught. Our numbers are too few and Rosept’s Halls grow empty I fear. Many of my explorers have been deployed about the realm in order to send the message of the late Chronicler. He had come to a most unfortunate end naught by a night past,” Farith explained to Djarren, the delicious dragonkin who had so willingly come into her domain.
“Rosept mourns but the guild presses ever forward.”

As if to offer some consolation for her disappointment with him, he quickly added, "I did learn ten years worth, so I hope that will be enough to offer to guild." Indeed, how could he possibly tell her that he had gotten bored of his studies when it seemed they were extremely treasured? This statement came with a reassuring smile, hoping to get back into Farith's good graces. He did not want to disappoint the guild leader right off the bat.

"Ah, is that so? I hope to stay a bit longer and get acquainted with this hall and our wonderful leader before setting off." A little flattery never hurt anyone, and he had also learned of the former Chronicler's demise. Which was immediately catalogued somewhere in Djarren's brain for future reference.

"Indeed, the one thing besides schoolwork that my parents managed to teach me, was..." Rather than say it, Djarren concentrated on the cloak that had fallen earlier, and mumbled a few words under his breath. The cloak lifted up and flew over into his outstretched hand. In a slightly overdramatic gesture, he gave a small bow and offered her the cloak.

"I was hoping to continue my studies in magic, Madame."

Such a precious child the boy was becoming as he attempted so desperately to offer consolation for Farith’s disappointment. The woman could not help but to admire his ambition to please her and in such little time. Far too easily molded, this one, Farith thought to herself while that secretive smile continue to display on her lovely face.
When Djarren had displayed his talent in the mystical arts and then stated his want to learn more of it, Farith could not help but to express more interest in the dragonkin. Extending her hands out to take her cloak, those wondrously curious fingers brushed against Djarren’s flesh once more. A thrill washed down Farith’s spine and it seemed but for a moment that the woman held her breath.
“I know much of magic, acolyte Djarren,” the Chronicler stated before throwing her cloak back around her shoulders. It settled down around the woman like a waterfall of black silk, the hem falling to the cold, stone, floor at her feet. Farith clasped the guild brooch at her neck and then walked past the dragonkin. Her footsteps were silent and it was as if Farith more so glided than walked across the hall.
“I will show you to our library where all the explorers spend their time when quartering at Rosept Hall,” Farith stated, fully expecting Djarren to follow.