Lena of Anguaren
Her king was watching her, likely taking in her reaction to this entire mess. How did he expect her to react, she wondered. Indifferent? Accepting? None of that. He probably hadnât even paid her any mind before now. He usually didnât. She was just there, quiet in the shadows, the little servant ready to do his bidding at any time. It was a place she was content enough to be, but in instances such as this one, she really wished he would take her into consideration⊠at least a little, because right now she was basically going out of her mind. This mess was just⊠overwhelming. Her king was usually a very orderly man, but this human, however she was, clearly had some effect on him.
If she didnât, Lena doubted she would be in his shower right now. Everyone knew how the king felt about humans and now it seemed as though he was actually condoling sex with them, whereas heâd always been known to regard such an act with, if not disgust, then at least a certain level of distaste. Which of course made all of this even more strange. Lena was fairly certain she wouldâve felt calmer if it had been a female demon the king had chosen to bed, instead of a human one. At least then it would only have been one part entirely freaky. This was just all-round confusing and it made her more than a little flustered.
She couldnât help the flush on her cheeks, no matter how much she wanted to hide it from the king. Lena didnât usually like showing her emotions, because, well, most times she did everything in her power to dampen them, to seem less like she was a complete and utter anomaly to her race. Not that it did her any good, but she had this idea in her head that everything would be much worse if she didnât at least do a little to make herself less inconspicuous, because as it was, she seemed to be very attention-drawing.
Her eyes couldnât quite keep themselves from straying to the discarded clothes, the mess all over the floor, the messy sheets she wanted to change and then wash⊠thoroughly. Who knew what kind of odd⊠fluids, had been left from their nightly activities. Lena didnât even want to think about it too much. Therefore she was thankful when Sabine gestured towards the clothing, telling her that she was to wash the womanâs, Miss Parkerâs, dress as well as the kingâs clothing. She cast him a faint smile, the red on her cheeks not even fading a little. Hopefully she would stop feeling so awkwardly misplaced when she exited the rooms, or when she cleaned it up. Yes, that was it, she simply needed to clean. Make everything look like it always did and that would help bring them back to normal, surely. Frankly she had no clue what else to do.
She nodded eagerly in response, âright away, your majesty,â she told him with a small smile and hurriedly gathered all of the discarded clothing in her slender arms, hurrying out of the room, feet tapping against the floor as she walked. Her gate was nearly completely soundless, but to her it felt as though every step resounded through the room and reflected off of the painted walls. She winced as the door slid shut with an audible click behind her as she exited. Gods, she was such an idiot. If only sheâd been more mature and experienced herself, then maybe this situation wouldnât have done this to her.
She hurried down the halls to the washing rooms, where she immediately set to washing the clothing, slowly calming herself by keeping busy with work.
Sapphire Parker
The water felt amazing, and it was almost as hot as her temper. Almost. She sighed, closing her eyes as she let the water drape her and wrap around her, washing away all her worries, and all the metaphorical dirk she felt made her skin clammy. Sabine was the last man sheâd expected herself to wake up beside, especially feeling this amazing. Her body was still aching in all those private places, whispering of memories she couldnât yet access properly. It was definitely enough to tell her that the sex had been amazing, if not completely mindblowing, and that assumption was only supported by those short flashes of memory that were sporadically returned to her.
After a while in the warm, relaxing water, Sapphire opened her eyes to look around her, searching for any kind of soap she could use to wash herself properly; he wouldnât mind. And if he did, well⊠then too bad for him. He might think this was all her fault, that sheâd lured him to this, and that sheâd given him no choice, but there was always a choice, and heâd chosen to take her home to fuck in his insanely humungous bed, on his extremely soft sheets. That was that. One might say heâd taken advantage of her alcohol-induced state of mind, since heâd obviously been sober, and some might consider that morally⊠well, wrong. But then, Sapphire knew herself, and she knew how she got when she was drunk.
But that didnât mean this was all her fault. Nuh uh. He couldnât dump the blame from this solely on her. Deciding that he he could just suck it up if he didnât like her using his soap, she reached out and grabbed a small, expensive-looking bottle of shampoo. She looked at it for a little while before squirting some into her palm. It smelled good. Fresh. Like Sabine. She shrugged, but the bottle down and bean massaging the stuff into her hair, closing her eyes. She let calm wash over her at the familiar act, even if she shampoo was much different than her own. It was obvious that Sabine liked his hair well-groomed, and he took care of it. Because that wasnât feminine at all. Cough.
Once her hair was well-soaped, she washed the foam off of her hands and gave the shampoo bottle a scorching look. If nothing else, she could be petty. She grabbed the thing, screwed off the tip. Then she turned it upside down and emptied it all into the drain, a satisfied smirk on her lips. Sure, the cost of it was probably nothing to him, but still it gave her some perverse level of satisfaction to know that sheâd at least let out her anger some. It had been almost entirely full. Well, now it was empty. She put the bottle back on the shelf and then she washed the foamed-up shampoo out of her blonde hair. After that, she did the exact same thing to his even more expensive looking conditioner. After sheâd put some in her hair of course.
Okay, maybe it was childish, but sheâd never claimed to be above such things. Well, she⊠no, wait, she actually hadnât. He should just be happy she didnât have anything fun with her to fill in them. Once sheâd washed out the conditioner, Sapphire cut off the water, and then wrung her hair slowly, listening as water poured from the golden locks. Then she stepped outside of the bath, looking around. A folded, white, clean towel was more or less right in front of her, and she looked around. No dirty towel of his. Who didnât use their towels more than once? People who had servants to do their freaking laundry, she supposed, and she did remember something about a smaller girl following them. Was that his servant? Huh. He certainly didnât strike her as the house-orderly type himself, nor like the type to have wife or children.
She swiped her hand out, grabbed the towel and loosely rubbed it around her locks of hair while she leaned forward, thinking of everything and nothing. Once sheâd casually dried her hair, she wrapped the cloth around her body, tugging in the end of it at her chest to keep it there without her holding it up as she straightened with a sigh. Well, she supposed sheâd have to emerge at some point. She heard the outer door close, but she figured it was just whoever had entered before her shower, although honestly she hoped Sabine had left as well. He probably hadnât though. She just⊠needed to get dressed, go home and then drink tons of coffee while grading papers. In her bed. In her pajamas.
Sapphire drew in a deep breath and then emerged, only to find Sabine with his back to her, and her dress missing from the floor. She frowned, irritated all over again. Her fuse was exceptionally short in the morning if she didnât get her coffee, and this situation wasnât making it better. âWhat the hell did you do to my dress?â She demanded, her tone making it obvious alone that she was not kidding around. âWhere is it?â It was a very freaking expensive dress, damn it.
â
Alexander Chartés
The king watched Sarai scurry off with the list of groceries, followed by his personal servant soon after. She always did obey his every whim flawlessly, didn't she? Whenever something went wrong, it was always because it was out of her hands, usually due to Nebellia, and he knew what a handful she could be. He also knew that her behavior changed quite a bit when he was not in her immediate vicinity. She had a tendency to sober up whenever he was near, which was the only reason she was still his adviser, madness be damned. Of course she was also a friend and perhaps that made him just a touch softer, although heâd never outright admit to such things. He didnât have a soft side, of course.
He returned his attention back to Simone then, attentive to her every movement, almost intensely so. Brown eyes scoured her face. She seemed perplexed, a bit nervous even, but not from him being near. No, heâd felt her relax at that after the first few seconds. This wasnât him personally, her knew that much. Her lips were pursed a little, as though she was considering saying something, while her hands knitted together, a nervous gesture, he knew. He said nothing, merely awaiting the questions he knew where coming. They were inevitable, and of course he couldnât blame her. She probably knew nothing correct of his race, and she wanted to know at least what her captors were. He supposed that much would be understandable, so when she finally looked up at him and spoke, asking her questions, he was prepared for them.
He smiled faintly and inclined his head a touch in a agreement when she stated that he was not from âhereâ. She seemed almost disbelieving of her own statement, which made his smile just a little but wider and a bit wry. He stayed quiet as she seemed to spew forth all the basic questions sheâd likely wondered at for quite some time, and here he was, seemingly forthcoming. Well, wasnât that just a joy? Why had she not asked these questions of the young servant in her service?
He let her finish talking, before he took a step back, smoothly pulling her with him while he easily spun her around to face him, his arm around her waist loosely, so as to not smother her. He looked down at her, a seductive smirk on his face. He would use this to his advantage, as much as he could. It wasnât much, but he figured at least a little could always help her feel more comfortable. Knowing what it meant to be a vampire would perhaps be a little helpful, if he could avoid scaring her too much in the process, something he was very unaccustomed to. Alexander usually didnât pay such trivialities much mind, but it wouldnât do to find some random vampire to explain everything to her, if he wanted her to want to stay with him. Heâd have to show her a âside to himâ sheâd like. Even if it wasnât much beyond and act yet.
âWhy do humans have different personalities?â He asked her rhetorically, his voice patient and considerate, âsome have tempers, and some do not. It is no different for vampires, and Brigitte, well, she was raised to be my servant from the day she was born. She was stripped of everything beyond that by her parents.â He explained further, his free hand wandering along her neck and shoulders deliberately, his fingers brushing against the skin almost casually. Not that he didnât know exactly what he was doing to her, brushing the sensitive nerves under her thin, soft skin.
âAs for how vampires are madeâŠâ he trailed then after a short pause. He slowly moved his fingers from the side of her neck to the back of it, trailing fingers down her spine teasingly as he continued, âIt can happen in one of two ways. Either a vampire is born, like any other creature, or he is made by another vampire once he has grown into the proper age. These vampires are of course born as humans. Some please a certain vampire and earn the right to his blood, which fuels the transformation. Others are simply changed because a vampire wills it, because it will benefit him or her in some way, I suppose.â He watched her quietly for a bit before he continued, answering her final questions.
âWhere we are from, is a more complicated matter. You might refer to it was a parallel world to this one, in a fashion. It is not like we live in outer space, and our world, well; it has adapted to our needs. The sun, for one, doesnât hurt us. In my native tongue, we call it Cruorem Orbis.â He was certainly trying to dumb all of this down. Mostly because he did not particularly wish to confuse her, and he figured bits of simple information would do.