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Lionel de Cambrey

"I just wish to return to where I was..."

0 · 338 views · located in The Manor

a character in “Je T'Adore”, as played by Cienpher


One hundred years after the last capture—late 1600s
In his new place of residence, the people soon took to Sabine. He rose in popularity for his curious antics. Then wraith discovered he fancied this young man at a masquerade party he’d attended to people watch at. Sabine lured him away from the main part of the party and kidnapped him.

Sabine's 'Little Lion' and 'Knight'

Apparent Age:




Hair Color:
Soft Brown

Eye Color:

((Everything below this is long and I apologize.))

Lionel was never considered ‘beautiful’ in the 17th century. In an era where short and squat features were preferred, he was too slender and long-limbed. His hair was too fine, too straight, too dull in its color – it bore no beauty in his time. Yet his features had a touch of nobility to them. He had a well-proportioned countenance and a pert nose, had a juvenile health to face. His complexion wasn’t pale enough and had to be powdered for his portraits in childhood, but its natural peach hue worked with the soft, dusty brown of his hair to bring out the sheer green of his eyes. His eyes were what captivated the courts in childhood and his contemporaries in adolescence. Though it did play a part, it was not just their color that was the source of Lionel’s charm. It was the glint of intelligence and the edge of determination in his eyes that cut them into jewels.

He finds it surprising how much times have changed. When a century later he discovered he conformed to modern beauty, Lionel was completely thrown. He was no longer ‘gangly’ but ‘of graceful build’. His lack of tight curls was no loss to his visage. The uncomfortable wigs of the past were unnecessary. Now in the 19th century, men wear their hair short, hidden under the simplest of hats, dressed in simply tailored clothes, and Lionel doesn’t know what to think.

Despite the changing times, however, Lionel has chosen to keep his hair long. In a rapidly changing world, he needs something to stay the same. It would have been a shame to cut it anyway, for Lionel's hair has a pleasant quality. Fine and soft, it cannot be compared to silk, which is too slippery and too luxurious a comparison. Lighter and warmer, there is something remarkably comforting about the gentle texture of his hair. When properly brushed and cared for, fingers slide through the strands just as easy as running them through sunlight. It's unfortunate to say that after so long in captivity, his hair is the least of his concerns. As of late he simply lashes it back with a string and calls it a day.

Even still, Lionel carries himself with marks of his upbringing. With good posture and precise motions, he retains an effortless air about him. However, some also find this ingrained decorum to be stifling and tell him that it's alright to make himself comfortable. These people fail to realize that he is most comfortable as he is. It is astounding how stiff he can seem when slouching and how unnatural he looks with elbows on the table. This usual propriety just makes it that much more obvious when he is overwhelmed and comes undone.

Face flushed with shame or anger, eyes sharp like bottle glass, shoulders hunched with indignity, hands fumbling and shaken with fear - had he lived his proper life, none would ever have seen such sides of him. Now they are all too common. Living bound to a daemon as mercurial as Sabine has taken a clear toll on the once all too distinguished young lord.

Although they will forever look strange to him, Lionel is fascinated by the styles of this new century. The simplicity and the comfort of it all startle him, not to speak of the luxury of the simplicity! Such bright colors for cheap and the commonness of lace - the idea that the vest and trousers he wore were made by machine and not stitch by stich by a tailor’s hand is utterly baffling. The first few decades he had insisted upon dressing like a lord of his own time, but when contemporary cloth is so convenient, he could not resist.

In warmer weather, he often wears waistcoats with cotton shirts, and on crisper days he wears a frock coat. Come winter he’s taken to thick wool scarves. He prefers double-breasted to single-buttoned and cravats to ties. As for trousers, Lionel prefers breeches so he can indulge on a horseback ride without excess preparation, and also because the form-fitting design is more what he is used to from the 17th century. The tightness feels more secure than the loose trousers of the Victorian era, which feel strange as the cloth brushes against his legs. Forced into too many elaborate wigs as a child, Lionel prefers to leave his head uncovered. The blockish design of the top hat holds little interest for him anyway.

He was of aristocracy in his time, and despite mix-ups and struggles with the fickle nature of fashion, his upbringing shows in his choice of attire. Lionel has a keen eye for the quality of the clothes he wears. It should be of good cloth, strong stitching, and elegant in design. Ah, but he does miss hand-embroidered cloth. He thinks it sad that such beautifully detailed work has been lost to time.

He owns none of his own clothes from his time as a lord. None of the heirlooms he would have inherited are in his possession. Those fine articles were left behind and lost to history, and all that remains is the costume that ties his old life to his new – the knight’s attire remains well preserved.

Lord Lionel de Cambrey, heir to Earl de Cambrey III, was renowned for his diligence and dignity. A serious youth, he was commended for the strict standards he set for himself, as well as the determined strides he took to achieve them. Despite his young age, he was upheld as a role model for generations both below and above him. There were some who thought him overly earnest, that the young man held no time for recreation amidst his love of work. This was not the case.

Though distinctly distanced from strangers, Lionel held great loyalty and compassion to those fortunate enough to his friend. Those acquainted with him would describe him as courteous and charismatic, but his companions would describe him as welcoming warmth. In fact, when with those closest to him, amidst the camaraderie, his youth would become apparent. He was not immune to childish jests or safe from the immaturity that was so infectious amongst boys his age. Away from public eyes, he and his fiancée enjoyed many games that, looking back, seem juvenile. He was the sort that, while not childish on his own, delighted in indulging the childishness of his friends.

In public or private, however, Lionel was best known for one thing – his unfaltering reverence of dignity was known to all around him. Despite his young age, the lord had a rather mature understanding the term. He did not define dignity as pride, as so many do, for it was not something dependent on how others treated him. No, dignity was dependent on his own behavior – how he treats others, how he treats himself, and how he treats his ideals. With a firm hold upon his emotions, he commanded respect from those around him, and he found no greater pleasure than achieving the goals he set for himself. He valued that sense of dignity and self-fulfillment over most anything else.

At his best moments, he can still be that person, and on most occasions he can act like it. With some of the other humans in the manor, he seems alive again, with brightness to his eyes and vibrance to his words. It’s clear that given the opportunity, Lionel still can be and still is the young Lord de Cambrey from back then. The sad truth of the matter is that it all washes away in the presence of Sabine.

Anger. Hatred. Dependence. Despair. In the daemon’s household, Lionel drifts through each day hoping the undercurrent of these feelings don’t pull him under. However, it is difficult, so very hard for him to keep afloat when he feels himself degrade further day by day. He knows that all that will remain is a husk of himself, needy for attention and dependent on Sabine’s good graces to stay alive. Especially when he begins to starve, he can feel his self-control slip away, and he is sickened by his own desperation.

In day to day life, he actively tries to ignore Sabine. He is nowhere near as adoring as some other pets, for he holds no love for the daemon at all. His attempts at tolerant aloofness prove it. Unfortunately, his firm hold on his emotions has dwindled over the decades. Lionel feels humiliation harshly and acutely. Although he has grown emotionally exhausted of reacting to every incident, he still finds Sabine’s condescending affections mortifying, and shame colors his cheeks too well. Sometimes the anger he tries so hard to restrain will tint his words. On occasion, Lionel can grow irritable with everyone around him, but in those moments the one he is most angry with is himself.

The self-loathing is hardest. Beyond his anger with himself for slowly resigning himself to this life, the disappointment in himself as he feels himself become someone else, Lionel is also disgusted by the clashing feelings he holds towards his captor. There is no doubt that he hates Sabine. He wants so badly for that to be the only thing he feels. However, how little control he has over this is best emphasized by the surge of bitterness he feels towards the pets that came after him. After all, Lionel was supposed to be the last one. Sabine had gone so far as to kidnap him, take him away from his family and future, so Lionel better have been the last one. But he wasn’t. Sabine wanted another human, and Lionel hates it. He hates himself for hating it.

He had always believed that anything was possible with effort. Those who claimed something impossible simply weren’t trying hard enough… but he’s been trying to break away from Sabine. Is he simply not trying hard enough?

If so, he’s even worse than he thought.

  • Darjeeling Tea – Lionel enjoys the fragrant and refreshing taste of this new drink of the era, despite its expenses.
  • Technology – he is fascinated by new inventions and how to use them, though he doesn’t always like their social implications.
  • Teaching – they say you only understand a subject if you can teach it; he enjoys helping others when they are working hard.
  • Birds - to clarify, he was never fond of birds in a cage, but he enjoys watching them strut about and fly in the wild.
  • Hand Fans - they hold a nostalgic value to him and that led him to pointless readings; he isn't sure how to feel about knowing 18th century and 19th century fan language; his interest isn’t public knowledge.

  • Coffee - back when it was brand new, the drink had been a novelty… and yet now he is sick of it and the imitation energy it brings.
  • Physical Intimacy - he is from a different time; he finds intimate contact anything between shameful and embarrassing depending on circumstances.
  • Being Taught – with a history of self-sufficiency, he is despises having to learn from others as he feels he should be able to do it himself.
  • Cramped Spaces - he dislikes crowds and he is terrified of being trapped in small spaces, especially in isolation; panic settles in very quickly.
  • Reminiscing – he fails to realize that his past is not simply ‘gone’, that loved ones went on without him; he needs closure but seems to be avoiding it.
  • Youth - all he wanted was to grow into a fine man, and with others so much older, he loathes having been immortalized so young, as well as Sabine's little nickname reminding him of it.

  • Violin - his hard work at the instrument when a child was of enjoyment, not just his usual desire to succeed.
  • Studying - though he does enjoy literature, he more often reads to actively learn about society and the world it inhabits.
  • Horseback Riding – some things do not change over the years, and both the method and thrill of horseback riding are one of them.

  • Music - with his background in violin, he has developed an understanding of the intricacies of music, although he’s always had a keen ear.
  • Ballroom Dance - with a natural, easy grace and a keen mind, Lionel can memorize and perform the dance of each passing era with no trouble at all.
  • French - the lingua franca of his time, he was expected to converse in it, and though his vocabulary fell short back then, he’s had time to study.
  • Swordplay - unfortunately, he had only formally studied the thrusting sword for a year before his kidnapping and a cut-and-thrust for less; he knows more than most in the current era, but he is greatly out of practice.

The de Cambrey family was not a family of great prestige. In the late 1600s, the earldom only dated back two generations, earned when a member of the gentry fought tooth and nail to gain recognition from the royal family. As a result, most members of aristocracy looked down on them, claiming that the de Cambreys, not of actual noble blood, were disreputable fellows who did not know their place. However, what they lacked in ancestry, the de Cambreys made up for with an abundance of other noble traits such as perseverance, virtue, and pride. There was a great amount of pride. Lionel was firstborn to Earl de Cambrey III and the daughter of a viscount. Upon seeing the boy's noble features, the father rejoiced, declaring that his son would be the generation that brings honor to the de Cambrey name.

Lionel grew up with an acute awareness of these expectations. He met each of them in stride. He was a brilliant boy of many skills who could charm whole courts by the age of twelve. His was well-mannered, and as he grew older, it grew evident that the young lord was the very embodiment of the aristocratic code. He became the standard to which all young boys were compared to. His talent and impeccable character garnered the attention of many keen men and women of power. At the young age of fourteen, he was engaged to the eldest daughter of a marquess. They were to marry once they had gotten to know each other, when she was nineteen and he was twenty.

His next several years were vibrant times. When he was not focusing on his studies or assisting his father with the duties of an Earl de Cambrey, Lionel was attending balls and socials with his lovely fiancée. He was quite taken with her, and she with him. The young lord and lady were the talk of high society, upheld for their dignity and decorum. As he entered his formative years, Lionel discovered young men whom he thought would become lifelong friends. He grew even more competent, and whatever honor his father sought, Lionel brought to the family name. They were good times.

However, one of those trusted companions, as good a man he was, happened to hold different interests than the young Lord de Cambrey when it came to matters of diligence. Apparently studying, rehearsing, and practicing social graces and matters of governance in order to be able to raise the de Cambrey name in status was 'working too hard'. Insisting that Lionel had to loosen up, the friend strong-armed the young lord into attending one of the masquerades that had become popular nearing the turn of the century.

Lionel was vehemently against the idea. He considered the masked revelry shameless and a waste of time, not to mention the dangers anonymity would bring. Furthermore, such flamboyance and frolic really wasn't to his taste… but his friends wouldn't hear of it. Thus, Lionel conceded, although he was blatantly unenthusiastic. Instead of the garish garb expected, he wore a simple soldier's outfit and an elegant visor just enough for anonymity's sake. He refused to wear one of those full-faced masks and outlandish costumes. His companions considered it his loss.

The masquerade was a fiasco. His friends were quick to abandon him for merriment, he was propositioned aggressively by no less than five individuals, and there wasn't a soul sober enough to hold an intelligent conversation. He was bothered and bored and mourning his lost time and yet was somehow feeling like a child lost in the bazaar. That's when he was approached by him.


There was something unnervingly charismatic about the man, and Lionel could tell just from the eyes peering through the stranger's mask that this was someone very… peculiar, for lack of better word. The young lord could tell immediately that this would be a life-changing encounter, although he certainly had no clue to the degree. There had been a quiet warning creeping up the back of his neck, a cold and dangerous tingling in his hands, but starved with boredom and awash with curiosity, the young lord made the mistake of seeking this man's company.

Intrigued by the stranger and tired of commotion, he let himself be led to a quieter site, conversing earnestly as they walked. He spoke of contemporary culture and the novelties of the era, while the stranger spoke of… well, everything that caught his eye. And as Lionel wondered how he too, out of the hundreds of revelers, had caught the eye of such an eccentric individual, he followed Sabine too far.

There must have been a sign, a precise moment when things took a turn for the worse because Lionel can remember trying to excuse himself. He had tried to politely pull away from the situation, but all after that is a blur, hazed by the overwhelming panic, fear, and indignation. He learned then that his violence and protest meant little to a daemon.

He doesn't want to remember. There are too many 'what if's that tumble through his mind, and imagining what he could have done different matters little when the end result is the same. He can still remember vividly that first taste of blood on his tongue, back when it was nothing but disgusting and brought with it no pleasure. Although he'd sworn vengeance and freedom up and down the first several years, here Lionel remains in Sabine's company still, over a hundred years later.

He's sick with himself just thinking about it.

Personal Resources

So begins...

Lionel de Cambrey's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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Sabine Cayne

Everything has been so quiet recently. Sabine went through those periods occasionally, where he became quiet and perhaps a bit brooding, spending expanses of time staring vacantly into the middle distance as if reliving memories. There wasn’t much that could bring him from these reveries, though they didn’t stop him from seeking out his pets to keep company with. It was a good time to ask him for items and then sneak away quickly, but also good for a long hair brushing session or for some reading, because when Sabine hit these moody patches his activity would slow down supremely and he could spend several days without leaving a room, whether his or another of his choosing, unless someone moved him somewhere else. On the brighter side, it was most assured during these periods that the mellowed demon would not have a fit of anger, he hardly seemed aware enough of his surroundings to grow mad at anyone.

That meant that the humans had had nearly a week to do as they pleased, for the most part, as long as they didn’t draw too close to Sabine and get caught in his arms for a few hours. But in the evening of one warm, lazy spring day, the demon’s eyes came back into focus as he sat slumped over in an armchair in the library, the book he’d been trying to read lying facedown on the floor below his empty hand. He rose slowly, like a man on stilts, and wandered down the halls to his rooms, located at the heart of the winged manor, running his fingers through his mussed golden curls and blinking slowly. It took a minute to place himself back in the century and location he currently existed in.

While he didn’t need to sleep, the humans did, and as the hour grew later, he could feel sleep descend on the manor. He could not sleep. Not anymore. At one point in time, sleep had been one more human delight to explore, but recently it seemed that nightmares plagued his dreams more often than not, and it was easier to hide from the problem than to wake up with the chill of fear wrapped around his throat time and time again.

Instead the demon busied himself with cleaning up, staring at the mirror that hung above his washstand as he filled the basin from the jug that stood next to it. While they had running water in a few rooms on the first floor, most notably the kitchen and in a hastily designed bathroom conveniently but noticeably attached to the manor. It was too much of a pain to run plumbing lines through the old house, so they were isolated to one wing of the ground floor. While the lovely roll top was nice, as was the cistern that flushed the toilet, they weren’t more than luxuries for humans that no longer required food or water to survive, and therefore could not perspire, and only needed to bathe if they managed to get themselves incredibly dirty, and only produced waste when they did bother to eat, which was more for some than others. So the running water was mostly used for washing clothes and occasionally the floors.

Nonetheless, there was something about running the damp cloth over himself that Sabine enjoyed. Maybe it was the reminder of how human he looked now. He couldn’t get over how amazing that was. While there were difficulties on the inside that he’d never bothered to fix, he couldn’t verily do so now without risking the pets dying of starvation. He had no clue how long it’d take him to rewire everything, it had taken ages to get the outside of the body to work right, and the only things he’d managed to perfect were the skeletal, muscular and cardiovascular systems. They were all that were really important to him anyway. He didn’t eat nearly enough for his lack of a digestive system to cause him trouble, and he didn’t mind being ill for the sake of his pets when he did eat.

The demon stared at himself for a long few moments in the mirror, studying his sad blue eyes. Wasn’t he acting the fool? How could he be so morose when there was so much here for him? This is what he’d wanted. He had a safe place to live, he had company, what more could he ask for? Persisting in such a manner would be foolish, it’d be akin to giving up. He couldn’t do that. Not when time continued passing, bringing new human opportunities with each new wave of life. Not when there were still humans in the house, they didn’t deserve to be ignored in such a way. He shouldn’t burden them with such things. It was time to lift his chin up and carry on as he needed to. He’d gotten what he wanted, so he should be happy! The demon smiled at himself. This was a common ritual. Every time he fell back into brooding, he had to remind himself that this was the life he’d chosen. He’d made this. If he wasn’t proud on it, who would be?

After combing out his hair, he dressed again as the moon reached the peak of the sky, draped a coat over his shoulders like a cape, and wandered outside. If there was another soul in his path, he either didn’t notice them, or they were too skilled at hiding for him to spot them. The night air was lightly chilly, sending a shiver through his form as he strolled through the gardens, looking at the flower buds vainly trying to bloom. The last snow was long behind them, and spring had graced the home with its presence.

Sabine sighed. Even after all these centuries, there were still some human emotions that were entirely foreign to him, and some that he still could not control. His soul didn’t fit quite right into his body, and it seemed to be leaking out more than usual. But the fact that he disliked these fits of rage and moroseness he was wont to only seemed to make them worse. Nonetheless, this sensation of peace was welcome. It was something he’d come to like about the human world. He could feel sad or angry as much as he wanted, but everything always came back to this odd, still feeling in the pit of his being. Calm. It was a good feeling.

The fact that he was vainly struggling with these stupid emotions that so easily overcame him was not something he could share with the humans. Theirs was supposed to be a carefree existence. He didn’t want to burden them with the trouble, even though his anger seemed to be doing the job for him. Sometimes, in the dead of night like this, he wondered if he should just let them go, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair to do so. They would die agonizing deaths by starvation. Or at least, he figured that was what would happen, based on their actions once they started to grow extremely hungry. He’d never let any of them die on purpose, he wasn’t about to kill a human for the sake of an experiment.

They had enough troubles on their own.

He just needed to remind himself that he needed to feel happy with the way things were. Then everything would be just fine. Life would continue on as it always had. As the sun began to stain the horizon with early morning colour over the trees, Sabine sat down on a stone bench, facing an angelic fountain he’d acquired a long, long time ago and never had the heart to get rid of, though now the stone had been worn down so the poor cherub was barely distinguishable. It was a trinket of a time since past, a gift from someone long forgotten.

It was funny. Sabine’s memory was vast, but as the years passed it worsened not because he lost the memories, but because it was too difficult to find them, lost in a maze of similar events and just the passage of human time. The blond demon stared over the statue at the lightening sky for a few moments, letting his eyes slide shut and peace settle over him. Life would continue for the household as it always did. Everything would be fine.

Everything would be just fine.

As the sky blushed shyly, the sun poking its head over the trees, Sabine rose. Things had been too quiet. He needed everyone to be together for a little while. That usually cheered him up a bit. It was an easy way to make sure everyone was doing alright. A nice breakfast would do the trick. Everyone would come together to make food, and then those who desired to eat could, and those who did not could sit for a while, and they could be a happy household for an hour or two. It’d be fun!

They were all probably starting to get on the hungry side anyway, Sabine had gotten in the habit of waiting for them to admit they were hungry before obliging them because, while some of them came willing enough, trying to feed others was like trying to drag a cat out from the attic. So it was easier to just let them come to him, but his morose mood of the last few days had prevented some of them from deigning to approach him. Nonetheless, most of them were too embarrassed about the violent measures they would enact if they let their hunger become too steep and they usually took precautions to eat before it got to that point on their own. While he didn’t particularly mind having his throat bitten out or his wrists scratched up on occasion, it bothered them. It didn’t hurt him, but that didn’t seem to change their opinions of it.

Probably just a strange human thing.

Sabine rose, pulling his coat closer around him so it wouldn’t fall off, and stretched like a cat before turning to flit off into the manor and alert everyone. Those who’d noticed that he’d vacated his spot the night before wouldn’t be surprised to see him bouncing around, but those who hadn’t would certainly be startled by his sudden mood change, especially since he had a habit of bursting into places when he was excited about something.

It was a bit of a pain to find everyone, he’d let them chose their own rooms, which mean that they were quite scattered. He didn’t stay too long after finding any one pet, just enough to tell them to go down to kitchens and start getting things ready for breakfast. Some were still in their rooms—some were still asleep—and others had already risen and were wandering about. Most of the time, meals were not spent together, since there was no real need to eat, but the best way to handle Sabine’s occasional whimsy was to sit at the table for a while until he floated off again, his attentions easily diverted. It was also a good time to ask Sabine for new items, whether pets, clothing, or other trinkets, because he was usually in a good mood when everyone was gathered together.

Those who were more reluctant to join the group by method of their own two legs would be carried down by Sabine, and he’d made good on the threat before. Well, he quite enjoyed it, but those who were carried tended to enjoy it a lot less, especially if they were in no mood to go wherever it was that he wanted to take them. But Sabine was a significant bit stronger than the humans—a fact that he often forgot—and he could easily carry two humans at a time, whether they liked it or not.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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❖Aedan Huntington❖

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Image2 Years. Aedan had been with Sabine for two whole years now. It was almost strange how fast time seem to fly by him in this house. It felt like only just yesterday that he was waking up in Sabine's bed, the demon hovering over him and asking if he felt all right. He could still remember it so vividly. He had awoken expecting to be in the gutter and wrapped in pain's embrace but he had felt no pain. No residual ache from his ordeal. Apparently he had been unconscious for a week before Sabine's blood had finally done the trick and healed him, save for his right eye that remained discolored and sightless though the demon swore up and down that his eye was fine. Sabine had scared the hell out of him at the time but then he remembered the blood. The intoxicating aroma and the bright color staining Sabine's wrist… It was the source of great discomfort for Aedan.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine of how he had lost all human control of himself and latched onto the man's wrist and laved at the slowly healing wound. He had licked and sucked at the man's skin and even found himself curled up in the man's arms; the man he feared was going to hurt him just moments ago. He had truly acted like a starving animal and the memory disgusted him and yet excited him. He remembered the thrill he felt in his core and the desperate need for more than just blood. He had craved being held and still sought that physical comfort from Sabine whenever he was around the man. It made him feel weak and out of control but he couldn't help it. It had been a long while since he had warm safe arms around him or a gentle touch and Sabine seemed to fill that void though Aedan had difficulty wrapping his mind around all of it.

Then there was the issue of all the other… pets. They were all so different and strange. Some of them tried to talk to him but then there was those he really didn’t want to have anything to do with. They were all quite the characters. He never would have thought he’d be thrown into a world where he’d interact with them. They all had lived for so long and seen so much of the changing world. He knew it was now his fate to but he still had a hard time reconciling the fact that he was immortal. He had only lived two years like this so he was still well within his time period and his regular life span. He knew eventually he’d hate the fact that he was stuck at his current age but he’d deal with that hurdle later on. He wondered how much more the world was going to change around them. Though he didn’t converse with many of the other humans, he realized he could learn so much from them if they’d actually take the time to talk about their history.

Aedan still didn’t know his place in this house and worried that Sabine would tire of him and send him out into the cruel unforgiving world again. Though he didn’t much like everyone here, this place was better than being alone again. Besides, from what he could tell, not drinking Sabine’s blood meant certain and excruciating death. He didn’t want to feel that pain. Besides, he could just avoid those he didn’t really want to interact with. The house was big enough that he didn’t have to talk to them or see them.

Aedan sighed to himself as he sat up in bed and looked out the window. Spring was always a nice season, what with the birds and flowers blooming. He did prefer the somber winter though. There was more mystery in it. He smiled softly to himself before he got up and walked to his vanity station and prepared himself for the day, ensuring that his pale blond hair and clothes were in perfect condition. Maybe it did make him vain, but he didn’t want to walk around disheveled. It just wasn’t in him to give up on himself and appearance had always been an important part of his human life. Aedan touched the skin just below his right eye and looked at the discolored color reflected at him in the mirror. One eye was a cornflower blue and the other… as cold and lifeless as the frozen lakes. That was unfortunately the imperfection he had been left with after his rather sad encounter with people he once called friend. Sabine commented that he liked the two different colors he sported but Aedan hated it. It was proof of his sins.

Aedan picked up his eye patch and positioned it securely over his sightless eye before he picked up his papers and his favorite black dip pen. The handle was decorated with a golden scrawling to match the cap that went over the actual dip. He looked at the variety of ink bottles Sabine had helped him acquire. Blue. Definitely blue today. Once he finished gathering up what he needed, he headed to one of his favorite places in the whole manor; a little alcove beside a window that opened up to the garden. It let in the natural light and sometimes he’d leave the window open to smell the aroma of the roses. It was a very calming place though it was stationed in the hallway. It provided him a very comfortable place to do his writing and watch the others that lived in the manor. The garden itself gave him quite the inspiration to.

Aedan sat down in the cushions and set his ink beside him on the little wooden extension in the alcove and tapped the end of his pen against his lip as he debated what he would write about. Hm, maybe he’d write something about that little dark cloud that wandered the halls sometimes. He had managed to catch Lonan wandering about a few times and Aedan couldn’t help the instant curiosity he held around the mysterious and gloomy man. He shored up his fascination up to the writer inside of him. He saw Lonan as a dark mystery and a tortured soul, not that he was the only one in this house that had a horrid past. Yes, he would write about man.

Just as Aedan dipped his pen into the ink and carefully tapped the excess off, he was startled to see Sabine all but floating through the hallway and calling him for breakfast. Breakfast? Only last night Sabine had been a lazy mass of gloom in his chair. Aedan had gone in there to ask Sabine about one of his books and then had been quite literally pulled into cuddling session for hours. He hadn’t minded it at first, but when it had been four hours later and his foot was asleep from the position Sabine had forced him in, Aedan had squirmed and fought in the man’s arms until the man had finally let him go. He thought for sure his leg would never recover. The antsy feeling that shot down his leg afterward had not been fun. Sabine’s random mood swings still unnerved Aedan but he didn’t question it. He liked it when Sabine was this happy and bubbly. It brought new life into the quiet house. Maybe he could ask Sabine for some book bindings and ink. He was running low on his black ink and he really wanted a hard cover binding for his poetry manuscript.

Aedan tapped the edge of his inkwell and wiped his pen clean before he put everything back into his room and entered the kitchen as was requested of him. He really wasn’t that great of a cook so he’d let someone else start the cooking. Instead, he started to set up the table with all of the plates and utensils that they would need. It really did look like a nobleman’s kitchen set up since that was what he was used to and he found he liked the familiar set up. It reminded him of the good times at home. He wondered what news Sabine would share with them today. And if he was quick enough, maybe he could nab one of the seats beside Sabine before Natalia or Syx. He didn’t want to sit next to either of them though so if those spots beside Sabine were taken… he’d probably sit beside Kira. He liked Kira. She was such a cute little thing and he just wanted to hug her all day.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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Location: His Room ---> Kitchen
Dialogue Color: #0000A0

Sniffing. Whimpering. Panting.

These were the noises that filled the room, stirring the large man from his slumber. His pale eyelids fluttered open slowly to find a large black nose inches from his own. An over sized tail began thumping against the floor once the dog had noticed his master's eyes were now ajar. Another small whimper and a pink tongue lay against the exposed hand that sat on top of the covers. A smile was forged across Syx's features and he peeled the covers away from him. He knew his best mate was hungry and he needed to start the day.

Syx made his way downstairs to the kitchen to fix Fang breakfast. His bowl was placed on a tiny rug and he scooped up the metal tin then set it on the counter. He retrieved a bottle of skimmed milk from the fridge and mixed it with wheat flour and broth before placing it in front of the excited dog. He slid his hand down the dog's spine as he lapped up his food, before proceeding back upstairs.

He began his morning routine by going to the bathroom and washing his face, then head to his room to start his morning workout. He started with one hundred jumping jacks and began to lose himself in the act as he counted and held his breath steady. He began doing squats and lost count after two hundred forty-three. He was thinking about what his day would most likely consist of.

The day before he had sweat hard while slaving in the garden. He'd already planted the flowers around the edges of the manor, but he had yet to begin planting his crops. He had merely tilled part of the land and some of it still needed tilling and then he needed to plant seeds and water as well. Then the hardest part would be done and the fun of checking them consistently for withered leaves or critters would begin. Last year a few rabbits had found their way to his heads of cabbage and he'd thanked them by using them for some of Fang's dinners.

He came back to his mind and realized his legs were aching from doing so many squats. He raised his brows and chuckled to himself before lying down to begin doing sit ups. He was nearing three hundred when Sabine poked his head into his room. The expected grin flashed over the pale man's face and he lit up, as he did every time the demon surprised him. Sabine informed him that he desired for everyone to meet accordingly downstairs for breakfast. Syx's eyes momentarily went to the window of his room to see how high the sun was and he nodded in agreement. It wasn't until Sabine had mentioned breakfast that he felt his stomach moving underneath his skin. He was getting hungry and didn't even realize it. He promised he would be downstairs in a few moments then finished his morning exercises before going to his wardrobe to change.

He dressed himself in a button up long sleeved shirt and a waistcoat with nice pants. Even four hundred years after being blessed with this lifestyle, once in a while Syx was still surprised to be a part of such a change. He had never been subjected to wealth, so he took advantage when acceptable. Which reminded him that he needed to ask Sabine for the next book in a series he was reading. He looked at his reflection for a brief second while running both sets of fingers through his almost always messy hair, then headed back downstairs to begin preparing everyone's meal.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset
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The past week had been blissful. With the master of the household lost to his thoughts, the manor could open up and breathe for the first time in what felt like years. Chambers avoided grew accessible. Dim corridors were brighter, more inviting. The air of empty rooms was for once clear, not cloying with traces of a demonic presence. Lionel relished all of it. Every hour without Sabine was a blessing he'd rather spend than count.

Such diligence came easily to him. Although the young lord was a lord no more, earnest habits of his past remained. Early to rise, Lionel's routine followed the sun. In the mornings he sought out readings in the eastern wing, settling with a modest tower of books and periodicals when he could. His latest objective was to pen comparisons of translated French novels to their original, and when that grew tedious, he browsed articles on the latest novelties of British culture. There was a new kind of photography taking the nation by storm, and though it made little sense to Lionel, he read it all the same.

Come noon, he ventured outside, sometimes to observe Thea's geese, sometimes to enjoy the breeze. Under normal circumstances, Lionel oft would ride to town, but never when Sabine was so welcomely listless! Pure autonomy within the manor was rare. He dared not squander the seconds anywhere else. Of course, he still twice visited Freesia in the week, for if he failed to visit the mare once in three days, she was sure to spurn him when he saddled her next. There were only so many apples in England to appease her.

So on and so forth, the lull went well spent. Livelier than ever, Lionel met each task with focus, a long lost glint back in his eyes. There was purpose in his steps, an eagerness to his stride, and perhaps rarest of all, genuine pleasure to his smile. Twice during the quiet days, he even smiled with teeth, though only in the privacy of his favorite room.

It was the room on the highest floor, facing southwest, the one with the view of the lower library and the sun's slow descent behind the tree-line. In the slow hours between afternoon and dusk, the sunlight would run through the windows thickened gold with warmth. It was a room that went unfrequented when the demon was awake. It was also where Lionel, with violin in hand, could finally feel like himself again. So every day of the calm, he played.

The dry wood against his jaw, the strings pressing grooves into his fingertips, the slight friction of rosin on the bow - there was nothing so exhilarating. His touch danced lightly on delicate notes. His strokes held strong on somber ones. With over a century of experience, Lionel's technique was impeccable, and so he could focus simply on devoting himself to the music. Each clean tone was a catharsis. Without fear of drawing Sabine to him with a song, Lionel could be as emotive, as vulnerable as he pleased. He could feel alive.

And now he was dead.

Slivers of sunlight filtered through his bedroom drapes, drawn shut despite the time. It was morning again. He had to get to the library, finish reading those translations. A funny notion when he couldn't even get out of bed. God, still in a nightshirt with the sky so blue - he'd have been a laughingstock in high society. Lionel cursed his sorry state, letting his arm fall across his eyes. He was wasting precious time. Sabine could revive at any moment. He realized with revulsion that he didn't care. He was too focused on the dry burn in his stomach and the crack of his throat.

The bloodlust was excruciating. He had gone too long without feeding. Counting the days before this reprieve, it had been more than a week. Wonderful. If this went on any longer, Lionel would have to take a pin to Sabine himself. In the back of his mind he knew that he should have fed at some point during this lull, but he couldn't tolerate the thought. It was different when the demon was lucid and prowling the halls, inescapable in the long run. Meetings then were inevitable. But to seek Sabine out of his own initiative when the demon was so easily avoided - that might have hurt more than the hunger.

That was a lie. There was little, if anything at all, that could compare to the pain that accompanied the thirst, the slow rise of discomfort to desperation to death. The bloodlust was many things - the slow boil of a poison, the fever of disease - but above all, it was the leash that kept him tethered to this damnable manor.

Lionel grit his teeth. What a sight he must have made now, hair in disarray, lazing about utterly useless. He might as well actually be a house pet. Clenching his eyes shut, he could see the image of his friends, the disapproval writ in their eyes. They'd have only biting words for him, call him a slugabed. Ralph might laugh, but it'd be one of scorn. And Eliza. He opened his eyes at the thought of her, turned his gaze to the shimmer of slow-floating dust by his window. What Eliza would think of him… he didn't dare imagine her cond—

The door bolted open and Lionel flinched. His heart stuttered a beat in surprise. The human didn't need to look to recognize the looming presence behind him. For a moment he feared that Sabine had come for company. No, it was simply one of the household's mandated gatherings. The demon was gone just as soon as he'd come, and Lionel was left to deal with the surge of conflicting feelings. Disappointment, mourning the end to this respite. He was fine with that. But then there was the sense of comfort he felt from the demon's presence, from the promise of a proper feeding, and he was disgusted with himself. It was a strange concoction of regret and relief — and a bitter pill to swallow.

He hadn't thought himself so weak.

Well, now he was too tired of himself to be tired any longer. "Disgraceful," he muttered to himself, shoving himself upright. In a brisk motion, he stalked to his window and threw open the drapes. He cringed instantly, squinting at the light. Even so, despite how horrible he felt, Lionel found the sun rejuvenating. With the weather so gracious, he might make it through this breakfast yet.

Lionel's morning preparations were curt and well rehearsed. It took him very little time to wash and dress and descend to the kitchens on the first floor. Several of the others were already there, clearly having had far more productive starts to the day - frustrated with himself, he waved the bitter thought away. Enough of that, he was in company now, and in the case of Syx, Thea, and Kira, he was in good company. He owed them his proper attention.

"Good morning," Lionel said, greeting everyone in turn, Aedan included. Folding up his sleeves in a meticulous manner, he approached the kitchen counter, continuing. "My apologies for the tardiness. How far along are we? How might I help?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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Location: Kitchen ---> Dining Room
Dialogue Color: #0000A0

Syx was filled with copious amounts of joy and excitement but also riddled with a myriad of anxiety. He was entirely enthralled to have everyone in the same room. The only reason they collected together was by force through Sabine due to the few of them that desired to be off on their own, which he understood. He enjoyed being alone; quite a lot actually. But he also desired to keep in touch with everyone in the house to keep tabs on their well-being, whether they enjoyed his presence or not.

Now he found himself preparing the table for the trays of food he would bring in to welcome these few people who did not care for him in the likes and the remainder of the residents. It always got under his skin when people disliked him for any reason, which was one of the reasons his anxiety was nearly at its peak. Sweat dripped down his back causing his button up shirt to cling to his back and his hands were constantly shaking no matter what task he set for himself. But he would never allow anyone except Thea see him as any more than his smiling facade.

The dining hall was adjacent to the kitchen. The long table furnished five chairs on either length, and one on either end. Although the manor only housed nine people, it had spots for guests. Syx found this a bit amusing. Not many of them ventured out from the house and when they did, it was never easy to make friends, much less someone they could bring home to this distorted family. Aedan had properly placed all of the plates and glasses among the table, as well the silverware was nicely wrapped into their napkins with silver napkin rings. Everything looked perfect. He grinned at Aedan and thanked him profusely for helping prepare the dining room. It was one less thing he would have to do this morning.

He remembered how quiet the house had been when Sabine again went into inactivity. He hated it. It felt like there was no time range between when he was last in his recession. He had sought him out only to find the demon sitting still in one of the many chairs in the library. Syx always got a bit down when he would find Sabine like this, hating the stillness the manor experienced and that Sabine would not be there to fleet around and intrude on him reading or to come and poke at his newly budding plants like he used to when Syx first started gardening.

Syx mainly used this time to work harder on maintaining his strong figure and to start readying the gardens again since it was finally Spring. He first planted the flowers, making sure there was a grand amount of Calla Lilies. He also included other breeds of Lilies, Roses, Tulips, Carnations, Daisies, Peonies, Dahlias, and Bleeding Hearts. Afterwards he had worked to till the garden which was a three day process since the garden was so large. He had felt cooped up in the Winter and cursed himself for being worthless, even though that was farthest from the truth. But when he was always reading after the chores and meals were completed, he got too antsy and it irked him when he couldn't find anything better to do than read or workout.

He returned to the kitchen once he readjusted everyone's plates to make sure they were all facing the same way and fixated himself on slightly moving glasses and candles and his freshly picked flowers among the table to assure himself that everything was indeed perfect.

Syx had hardly seen anyone except Fang in the week that Sabine resided in his own mind. He'd passed a few, but he kept himself busy outside for the allotted time. The night before last he was up late reading by candlelight and Fang had left the room suddenly so he figured Four had returned from his few day activities, whatever they were, and Fang had gone to investigate who was coming through the back door at this time. Although Fang would never harm someone of the house, but if it had been an intruder, he was trained to attack on command if need be.

Syx had already placed a ham in the top range so he could save the bottom to hold the food that was finished preparing to preserve its warmth. Three cast iron skillets adorned the range top. One withheld the sausage and bacon which hissed loudly at him to be turned, another contained the eggs which he was obediently flipping, and the last was occupied by a few grated potatoes that he'd seasoned to taste.
His hands still shook as he began slicing up fruit to serve to each individual and when Thea rounded the corner it startled him. He slammed down the knife, showing his surprise of her arrival. His heart was already pounding and if it hadn't been his best friend he may have yelped unexpectedly.

“Thea, good gracious, darling!” He stepped back from cutting apples and ran his hands through his hair in angst. She was the only one he even considered to show his true self to. They'd known each other for hundreds of years, so it was expected that she had seen him in all states, worst and best, and vice versa. She had even seen him when he got angry. Which was a terrifying image alone, much less to be the one to console him when he was indefinitely acting like a monster. He'd had to think twice not to throw her off of him. He still scolded himself for that evening.

“My apologies, Thea. I've been quagsagging since I stepped into the kitchen to begin breakfast. My anxiety is really quite horrid at the moment.” He gave her one of his trademark fake smiles but it was met with sad eyes.

He knew she would see right through him and turned back quickly to complete the remainder of the fruits. He placed several varieties of them into separate glass bowls for everyone then asked Thea if she would help place them around the table. While she was setting them about he paced quickly to the fridge to get the milk and began jirbling milk into all of the glasses he had set out. He loathed the idea that most of the food would go to waste, but in spite, he reminded himself that it was easily replaced. Though his heart stung for the less fortunate that were surviving off of gruel.

“Oh dear,” He said to himself, mid-pour.
He set the milk down, leaving the unfinished job to be done in a moment and hurried back to the kitchen while saying, “I've forgotten the toast!”

As he was rushing to the kitchen he came face to face with Kira.
“Good morning angel.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek then without skipping a beat pulled out a metal tray and began laying out bread to be cooked in the range.

Although he had a problem talking to new women, the women of this particular household did not bother him so, especially Thea and Kira. He adored their companionship and was always eager to see them. Natalia was fun to mess with and he was still getting to know Hope, but he enjoyed her as well. But if a woman approached him outside of the household, he would immediately begin stuttering and shaking. Women strangers, even clerks at markets, would have him shuddering in his boots with anxiety.

“I really appreciate it! If you could maybe finish pouring the milk in everyone's glasses, I would be forever grateful.” He grinned as he slid the tray into the heat then closed the range to focus on what lay atop it. He removed the eggs and meats from the cast iron skillets and onto glass plates and they followed the bread into the range. Now he attended the potatoes and looked back up for a moment to see Lionel now in the kitchen too. He grinned down at the man, his eyes lighting up to see so many of his friends here already. It was certainly a happy occasion and his anxiety had dwindled profusely as more faces came to greet him and were so willing to help him.

“You're not late at all, sir, you're early, in fact.” He smiled again and tried to think of what needed to be done, then snapped his finger and pointed to him.

“I have yet to start the coffee, if you could do that for me I think we will be set unless anyone has any requests.” With the last word he turned his gaze to Thea as if specifically meaning her requests. She always had a good idea or a random craving that set the mood perfectly for whatever meal they were having.

“Ah, I also forgot the jams and the lemon and cherry curds. Drat!” But he could not gather them just yet as he was still maintaining the potatoes.

Syx looked down when he heard Hope's voice brush against him. She practically purred about Four's state and Syx finally tore his eyes away from cooking to notice the demon that was now in the kitchen as well. A faint red mark was displayed across his face and his eyebrows knit to show a look of pain for the demon, even though he probably didn't even feel the strike. His gray orbs cascaded to view a very annoyed set of pets in either of his master's arms. He smiled at this and looked back to Hope.

”Better than breaking his arm like he usually would. And it's going well.” He retorted with a smile. The kitchen was so full now with everyone here.

He didn't mind all of this hustle and bustle though. For a little while in the seventeenth century he had taken on a job as a chef to secretly learn the era's ways of cooking so he was accustomed to this type of running around. Although he didn't need any money, he was just passionate about cooking. Being in the kitchen helped keep him happy and at peace. Especially among good friends.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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❖Aedan Huntington❖

❖❖❖❖❖▀ ❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖▀ ❖❖❖❖❖

ImageAedan looked up from his work of setting the table as each member of the little family entered. "Good morning," he greeted each as they arrived, thought it was really only Syx, Kira, and Lionel that had really paid him any mind. He wasn't much of a talker really until Kira showed up. Out of everyone here, he was the closest to her. He didn't know what it was about her but it made him feel safe to open up to her. He didn't fear her or worry that she was going to somehow sell his secrets. True he hadn't really talked too much about his past details, but he didn't feel like he needed to hide from her. She was just this sweet and adorable lady and though she was ages older than him and had far more experience to her name, Aedan, for the first time in his life, felt like he could protect someone. Back home he had been the youngest of two older brothers and they had always watched his back. Now he could watch over Kira and really, he saw the woman as a little sister; his little blossom.

"You're welcome, Syx," he answered when the man thanked him for setting the table. "Thank you for making the food. It looks and smells monsterful." Aedan didn't consider Syx much of a personal friend and didn't often associate with the man, but he had to admit he was quite the chef. His food was always delicious. He had to give credit where credit was due. Aedan used to cook for himself and his food... it was edible at best. Cooking was definitely not his forte. Aedan stood back to ensure he had set everything up on the table and did his best to stay out of Syx's way. He'd offer to help but there were plenty of hands for that and he was sure that whatever he touched would be burnt beyond recognition. Since he wasn't much use in the kitchen anymore, he hurried towards Kira.

Aedan quickly wrapped his arms around Kira and beamed brightly at her, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Hi Kira. Did you rest well?" he asked her then. Before he could focus on an answer, Aedan heard the door to the kitchen again and his eyes widened though he really shouldn't have been surprised. After everyone else had wandered in, there stood Sabine with Natalia and Lonan in his arms. Natalia looked rather miffed about the situation and Lonan... Lonan looked like, well, Lonan. He was always a dark cloud though this morning he looked more tired than usual. He could see the mark on Sabine's face and he could only assume it was Lonan's doing. The sight sent Aedan through a flutter of different emotions.

He felt the odd attraction to Sabine since hey, he was a rather handsome man, but there was so much more to it. He was happy to see that he had been hurt a little and happy that Lonan got it out of his system. He hated the fact that he took a certain sick happiness and relief from the fact that his savior had been hurt. And lastly, he did feel concern for both Lonan and Sabine. There was a heavy weight on Lonan and he wished there was something he could do to help, but that would require getting close to Lonan and he didn't think Lonan would appreciate it. Besides, that would require Aedan to divulge his own secrets and he... wasn't ready for that. He didn't know these people well enough. And Sabine... oh, Sabine. He was a puzzle in and of himself to Aedan. He loved and hated the demon. He was attracted and disgusted. He craved and loathed his attention. It really was quite the maze for the poor boy to navigate through.

Aedan shook his head and tried to clear it from these confusing thoughts. He had other things to worry about. Like the fact that everyone was here now. He got along with most of them but he hated Natalia and he was sure she'd say something or do something to annoy someone. It really was quite the taxing game everyone played to just get along. He didn't want to become a target and having so many people in the room... it was a bit overwhelming. He wondered why Sabine had wanted them all together this morning.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset
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Thea poked her head into the kitchen, ready to leave if someone undesirable had claimed a position. She was pleased to find that Syx was the only one there. She strode in. “Excited to be cooking so much, hm?”

The slam of a knife stopped her in her tracks. Her friend was obviously extremely tense. He was doing the thing where he messes with his hair. His apology for startling her was accompanied with a thin smile, as usual. Thea quietly let out the breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding before smiling back. “No, no. It’s my fault for sneaking up on you.” He seemed to be teetering on the edge of okay. It would be wise to keep an eye on him this morning. Not that she was feeling at all confident about the gathering. He had good reason to be anxious.

Syx was making a big meal. She wasn't sure if it was because his nerves were making him restless or because it was Sabine's request. They do say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Though, in Thea's opinion, every meal is important. She jumped up to her usual spot on the stool in the corner to watch him work. His dexterity when preparing food was always a sight to behold. With her clothes today she would only be in his way – he would hate to be the cause of stains on a proper dress like this one. She, however, was happy to help no matter what she was wearing, and did not hesitate when he asked for her to set out the fruit.

Aedan was in the dining room when she entered, bowls in both hands. She nodded at him as she made her way around the table. A slice of apple went missing. Then another. In her defense, they were very sweet and crisp. Thea made a note of which bowl she had been sneaking fruit from so that she could sit there later. Or, on second thought… With a wry look she swapped it for one of the ones near the end of the table where Sabine sat. It’s not like Natalia (who at this point pretty much had dibs on both of the seats there) ever did more than nibble anyway. Syx poured milk beside her until he realized he hadn’t started to make toast. The poor darling was so scattered he nearly ran into Kira on his way back to the kitchen. Thea made to greet her, managing to get out a quick “Hello” before Aedan shot past her to embrace the other girl. Aware that she would no longer have a chance to speak to Kira, Thea went to Syx just as Lionel came into the kitchen. Syx turned to her, waiting for a request – he was right to do so, as she had one. “Candied walnuts! I know where you put them.” Hearing that he had forgotten the spreads, she offered to get those as well. “Everything is somewhere in the pantry, I’m sure.”

The kitchen Thea returned to, her arms full of jars, was far noisier than the one she had left. Sabine had arrived, his arms full of a disgruntled redhead and a fuming Four. It was quite a sight. She would have to record it in her journal in detail. What a way to start the day! She cheerfully placed the preserves she had gathered onto an empty counter for Syx’s disposal and retreated to her stool to watch the two troublemakers struggle in the hold of their master. Only then did she spot the red on Sabine’s face. Oho. That would explain Lonan’s ridiculous position. She stifled a laugh.

It was a good morning indeed.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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#, as written by slcam
Natalia Catherine Estbury

The closer they approached to Four’s quarters, the stormier Natalia’s face became. All her giddiness from just moments earlier dissolved into a brooding anger, directed mostly at Four. Sharing Sabine’s attention was never high on her list to begin with. That despised door lurked in a dim corridor, far as possible from all others. Natalia, still perched in the demon’s arm, gave a huff of annoyance as he tried to doorknob, only to find the door unmoving. “How utterly unpleasant,” Natalia murmured to herself. Sabine seemed to take little notice of her comment and set himself against the door, straining only the slightest bit against whatever dead weight denied him entry. Still, his hold on Natalia remained as gentle as ever, and she could not help the small ray of pleasure that pierced her disgruntlement. Finally, with one final effort, there came the sound of something very large indeed toppling headlong to the floor. Despite expecting it, Natalia still jumped from the enormous clatter, her heart beating wildly. “God’s wounds!” she swore under her breath bringing a hand to her heart to calm herself. Her venomous gaze immediately settled on Four, communicating her displeasure at the situation better than any insults would. In any case, with Sabine present, she could not be as outright with insulting the lout in any case.

Though Four looked rather startled and half awake, rather like a young child, his expression soon turned to one of disgust mirroring Nattia’s own glare. Sabine smoothly set her on the now overturned dresser, and Natalia arranged herself a bit more comfortably, so she could sit up straight and continue her glare at Four. She hoped to communicate that she did not wish the boy to make more commotion than he already had. Still, she knew there was little chance that the thick-witted lout would stop acting so childishly. Sabine fairly tackled the boy to the bed, and despite the stirrings of jealousy in her, she could not help the slight bit of interest in how the situation would turn out. Four struggled uselessly and Nattia suppressed a laugh of amusement at his helplessness. Sabine asked about how much sleep the boy had gotten, and only got a rebuff in response. Nattia scoffed at Four’s useless resistance. It was really bothersome, even when directed at Sabine. When it was then quickly directed at her, supposedly for sitting on his dresser, she merely made herself more comfortable, refusing to drop her gaze, as if to say, “I am here, deal with it.” A smirk played on her features in response to his loathing.

Sabine seemed to ignore Four’s harsh gaze and tone and responded playfully, even ruffling the boy’s hair. The effect was rather comical, and it was clear how much Four disliked it. He looked like a cat being petted the wrong way. Natalia’s spiteful smirk only grew, even as the boy grabbed and moved Sabine’s arm. Or rather, Sabine allowed him to move it. Four commanded the demon to get out, kicking him off the bed, but Sabine dragged him along by his ankle. Nattia only rolled her eyes in annoyance at the antics as Sabine merely dragged him up until he was hanging upside down from his ankle. Four suddenly lurched, bringing his foot up to connect with Sabine’s face. The demon’s blood began to dribble from a nose that was quickly taking on a crimson hue. Nattia let out a gasp of alarm and outrage at the ridiculous display. Sabine lightly took it as Four being hungry, but Nattia’s rage did not cool and hate for the boy gleamed in her eyes. When Sabine reminded him that they were keeping the others waiting for breakfast, the guarded look on Four’s face gave Nattia a twisted pleasure. He clearly did not like that idea, but it served him right. “Yes, little soot bird, we are late for breakfast. I am sure you would not want to miss that,” she purred, mocking him lightly.

Sabine slung him over his shoulder and came back to the dresser to retrieve her. Nattia started out trying to convince Sabine to let her walk with a, “No, no, my dear. I think I would be more comfortable.--” She was cut off as he picked her up anyway, hardly seeming to notice her protests. She was soon once again nestled in Sabine’s arm. Though she attempted a couple glares at Lonan over Sabine’s shoulder, he firmly ignored her. This irked her to no end, which quickly became obvious. The boy was so insufferable, Nattia hardly knew why Sabine even kept him around. Even worse, he continued to struggle at random intervals. Sabine was too strong for these to have any effect, so Natalia was sure the boy was doing it just to be a nuisance.

Unfortunately, despite her attempts to ignore these childish irritations, by the time they reached the kitchen she was silently fuming. It would not be a good morning for any who got in her way. Still, luckily for Lonan, she wanted to get away from his idiocy for a time. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Nattia could feel the general attention shift in their direction. She automatically straightened, levering a haughty gaze at whoever looked her way. She assumed that each glance was at her and glared accordingly, making it clear that this was not the time to test her.

As soon as Sabine set her down, she fussily straightened her skirts, gave Loonan an acidic glare, then whirled off to the dining room without acknowledging anyone else. Nattia sat at her usual spot to the right of where Sabine usually sat and sulkily stared straight ahead.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Cayne Character Portrait: Kira Grey Character Portrait: Lonan Auraxtin Character Portrait: Syx Gryffen Pires Character Portrait: Lionel de Cambrey Character Portrait: Natalia Catherine Estbury Character Portrait: Aedan Huntington Character Portrait: Thea Basset Character Portrait: Hope Creighton
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Sabine Cayne

There was certainly a spring to Sabine's step as he entered the kitchen, basking in the bustle. Lonan was still flopping occasionally like a disgruntled fish, so Sabine kept a firm hold on him as he lowered Nattia to the floor so she could daintily dismount. She swept off immediately to the dining room, but he waited a moment before following her. He shifted his weight to hold Lonan up, hands firmly under his arms so he couldn't make a wiggling escape, the permanently young man's feet dangling in the air, and looked him dead in the eye. " If you try to escape again, I'll catch you and tie you down so you can't get away, my little birdie." He said, his voice cheerful, but a cool expression iced over his eyes for a moment. Just as quickly as the ice had hardened, however, it vanished, and he grinned and wrinkled his nose a bit.

Sabine deposited Lonan in the dining room, seating him in the chair directly across from his usual spot, and shot a smile at Nattia, who was sitting beside his spot. " If he tries to make a break for it, give me a shout, would you, Red?" Then he turned to make sure everyone else was present, patting the foggy-eyed Aedan on the shoulder as he passed, offering him a joyful, crooked smile, ruffling Kira's hair, chuffing Lionel's shoulder, brushing a stay fly-away behind Hope's ear, resting his hand for a quick second on Thea's back as he passed through the kitchen, dodging the bustle. As he usually was when everyone was gathered together, He didn't understand the first thing about food, even after all his years of life. It all puzzled him, but he trusted his pet's judgements on their personal tastes, and had been known to enjoy food on several occasions.

He noticed straight away as he neared his precious boy that Syx's hands were shaking. Of course, being quite oblivious, he didn't understand the depths of Syx's anxiety issues, but he'd been around his sweet bear for long enough to know that he wasn't feeling tip-top. "My prince~" Sabine said, wrapping his arms around Syx's waist from behind and standing on tip-toes to press his face into the other's neck, "Look at you, working so hard!" he crooned, making a marginal attempt not to sound plaintive, in a, 'pay attention to me instead of what you were doing' sort of way, and more, 'calm down, you are doing a great job,' though his desire to have attention spent on him usually confused his praise.

Sabine was absolutely zero help in the kitchen, his skills maxed out on being able to carry things from one place to another, (though he was highly skilled at carrying, thanks to his superb strength and balance,) and other than that, he usually served to be a bit always in the way. Nonetheless, he helped carry things to the table as Syx and the others finished up, and soon enough everyone was settled down at the table. Sabine was still grinning all over himself, pleased to see everyone together, whether they liked it or not.