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James Dylor

"Being human was much easier than looking after this king..."

0 · 258 views · located in Earth

a character in “Paranormal Lovers”, originally authored by pieluver, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Personal Servant of the Lykae King

Image

Nickname(s):
"Nothing in particular. Boy is fine with me. Whatever. I answer to most anything." He has no specific nicknames. Well, that he uses anymore. His mum used to call him Jamsie, but he isn't too keen on that one.

Age (Real Age):
"I'm new here!" He looks to be about 20 or so, but he is actually a good hundred and fifty years old. Still rather green.

Gender:
"Hold on, let me check.... wait. Is this a precursor for a pick up line or something? I'm not really interested..." Male

Looks (descriptive + must include height – anything not in, or not apparent in, the picture!)
Little James stands at about five foot three. He's a little bugger. Probably because his mother was the tiniest human one ever did see. He's slim and almost feminine in build, little bulk to his body. Of course, he's still got more meat to him than the average human of his stereotype. Which gave him quite the advantage over the football team when they thought it to give him the chase. He has vividly blue eyes, thanks to his father, and a slender, expressive face. Despite hist slender build, he still looks rather stocky because of his height and the muscle he does manage to have. Said muscle isn't readily visible, but if he puts it to use it does stand out in his lightly tanned skin.

Occupation (mostly relevant to the sisters):
"Well, you could call me the Personal Servant. If you wanted to. I'm not much for it though." He's the Lykae king's servant.

Skills/Equipment (meaning martial-arts training, favorite weapon and so on. Not relevant to the sisters)
Other than his own body, James never had any reason to wield a weapon, so he doesn't. He is rather agile though, and if he was less clumsy he could do well at fencing.

Personality/History:
James is James. That is all that can honestly be said about him. He's a young puppy-dog of a Lykae, not completely comfortable in his body, but friendly and hard working all the same. He does prefer pretending to be human though, and tries his best to avoid some of his less 'civilized' instincts. He is actually quite stoic for the most part,so long as a raw nerve isn't struck he can endure most verbal lashings with a foolish looking grin on his face. Despite his ignorance, he isn't dull. He's just a bit of a bumble, a little bit clumsy, a touch of a fool. He tries his best though, even though he doesn't like his new job.

His human mother raised the child from the time he was little, in the human world. The pup went to school in the human world, learned how to be a human. Which made it very confusing when he started to exhibit odd behavior. Like, whenever he threw a tantrum he'd grow claws and get bigger. Which kind of scared him, admittedly. He forced himself to act more stoically. Unless you insult his mother, or something like that. He's very protective of her, well, her memory. She died when he was going on sixty. Then he was picked up by his father, who was confused and a bit disgusted to see how his son had turned out. The quiet little thing, how was it even possible?

As a high-standing citizen James's father did manage to dump the young-ling at the age of one hundred into the King's court in the hopes that he'd either kick the bucket or turn into a real Lykae. it hasn't worked very well, but the hardworking chap wiggled his way up through the court, finally landing himself a decent job (As per his father's instructions) after the last personal servant....well...you know....died...


Other:
James is very easy with most of his emotions, as anger was the only thing he actively suppressed. Despite his reaction to amour, he really isn't interested in...that. Perhaps it was part of his Lykae instinct that he suppressed, seeing it all as bad.

Post (this is merely an example of how you would act your character):
They whispered about him behind his back. James knew that for a fact. It didn't irk him too much though. It was because he was young and green, but in such a high position. It didn't feel like a very high position though. Sometimes James felt no better than a dust mop. He just did as he was told. The human world had contained so many more possibilities, so much more, he had never been looked down upon like he was here. He'd been a strong and handsome young man there, perhaps a bit strange and a touch foreboding, but still an interesting character. Here he felt like he was always underfoot and that the others didn't like him at all.

Maybe it was because if he grew his hair out he'd look like a girl because of his feminine face. The sexism of this place disgusted him. The chocolate haired young male shook his head slightly, his eyes still bright with a vigor he didn't completely feel inside, and he hurried back into his room with his swift akimbo movements. He was clumsy because he didn't think before he moved. he lacked grace because he was always in somewhat of a hurry. He looked awkward because he wasn't entirely comfortable with the dynamics of this body. He'd been taught to be a human, but he wasn't a human. he was this. And that wasn't what he wanted.

James flopped onto his bed, rubbing his face. He was always tired these days, it seemed. The king kept him almost always on the move, doing this, avoiding that, trying not to displease him.James didn't want anyone to get him wrong, he adored the King, the ruler of his country, but he was such a pain sometimes, just like a little child who did what he liked with no rules, regulations or punishments. it was annoying sometimes to clean up after him.

The young male rubbed his face, sighing. Then he heaved himself up and stripped, dressing again in tomorrow's uniform. That space of about six or seven seconds, other than his occasional bath, were the only times he was ever out of uniform. The rest of the time he was garbed, ready to stand at attention in case the king should wish him for some obscure, self absorbed reason. And if James was called, he needed to arrive fast, or risk getting into trouble. Getting dressed took too long. Going out stark if called at night, he'd always slept starkers before this employment, was also not a good idea.

With a huff, James collapsed back against his bed again, falling asleep in seconds.

So begins...

James Dylor's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Yeremy Markovich Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Sapphire Allyson Parker Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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#, as written by Mela
OOC: All the kings, along with their destined partners are out - somewhere they will meet eachother, but apart from the other couples. Staff can do whatever they want, except I will be setting some character-interaction into motion. Oh, and for the Vampire king: the guy stalking Sapphire is a vamp, so you should have no trouble getting rid of him, seeing as you're his king and all. xD
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Sapphire

"Is he still staring at me like I'm on the menu for tonight?" Sapphire asked her friend, Gwen, making a face at the thought. The two of them had spent an hour or so at their favorite restaurant, having a late dinner like they often did. Now, they were taking a walk in the park nearby, casually strolling along the gravel path among the grass and trees. It was nice, except for the tall, dark-haired creep who'd been following them the entire time, staring at her like she stared at chocolate-cake and strawberries during her period. It was eerie. She felt confident though. No single guy would attack two women, so if he didn't leave soon, she would merely grab a cab when she left the club they were headed towards. And tomorrow, she would drive to the diner in which she would have brunch with her amazing sisters, Alara and Haven. The three of them had the exact same parents, yet Alara looked nothing like Haven and Sapphire. It was like she'd caught an entirely different gene-pool, really. A funny thing.

She looked up, gazing at the beautiful moon, having risen only hours before. It would be full in a couple of days, she could tell. Sapphire loved the night, much more than she did the day. Yes, it was colder, it was dark, the wind often picked up, and creepy guys like Mr. Stalker went boo, but she just... there was something about the otherworldly glow of the moon and the beautiful stars, winking at her like they were in on a secret she had yet to learn. She noticed Gwen glancing behind her to properly answer Saph's question and couldn't help smiling. Thank god for friends who looked at your stalkers for you so you wouldn't have to yourself.

"Yeah," Gwen then said apologetically, looking at Sapphire once more, "but he's further behind... maybe he'll lose interest by the time we reach the club?" A girl could hope, right? Unfortunately, however, Sapphire wasn't big on the hope-thing. You always ended up so damned disappointed and she hated that, even if she had no trouble disappointing her parents. She ran a hand through her red mane, blue eyes reverting to her friend, presenting her with a beautiful smile. "Doesn't matter either way. He's probably just some creep who likes to look at my ass," she said, laughing off the effects of goosebumps on her jacket-covered arms. No reason for Gwen to be all worried.


They reached the club not long after, both sighing happily to enter the warmth, the song "Titanium" blasting through the speakers. It wasn't exactly her favorite, but Gwen liked it here. Personally, Sapphire was more of a rock/alternative kind of gal, but none of her friends really were, so she dealt. The guy hadn't stopped following them, which made Sapphire want to stop and tell him to get lost. If he kept staring at the club too, she definitely would. Who the hell did he think he was to scare the crap out of her like that? She shook her head a little, shaking off her nerves, smiling at Gwen as the girl asked what drink Sapphire wanted. "Something strong," she merely replied, moving with her friend to find two seats in the bar. When they did, Sapphire sat down, pushing herself through the crowd and into the illuminating light of the overhead lamps in the bar. Gwen, moved around a little, catching the attention of the bartender. Sapphire barely noticed, though as she straightened her outfit (picture). She was busy scanning the club, hoping to find some male company that might just scare the other guy off.
_______________

Lena

Bees... busy little bees. That's what they were; all of the other maids and servants. She helped, of course, even though they didn't ask her to... they never would. It was the way of her world. No friendly words or kind pats on the shoulder. Nothing. She craved it, but she couldn't have it. Ever. The king had brought five of them along with him to earth, which was an unusually large party, when you added the 20 guards, including the captain. Then of course, the king's adviser, Yeremy - not a nice guy, even by demon standards. He, like the king, made an art of causing fear to beat through her along with irritation in Yeremy's case. She didn't know why he was so interested in causing her harm like that, but he was and it bugged her, though she'd never say anything. She never did. Once, she had spoken against a guard and he'd beaten her into within an inch of her life. Of course, the king had had him flogged for it - Lena had after all been unable to work for weeks - but she knew that given proper cause, anyone would do as that guard had did. Regardless of consequences... well, perhaps they'd make it more subtle to avoid death, but pain was pain, and she'd never complain to the king.

So yes, if her marks could not be seen, the king would not know from her. It was enough that she was a little, weak girl among big men and women, and she wouldn't make it worse by becoming the telltale they all thought she was. She might be sweet compared to all these brutes, but she had a mind of her own, and she would not let them be right on this one. She sighed, looking around the room of people who were ignoring her, then shook her head, smoothed her little dress over, pulled her cardigan closer and started walking up the stairs, towards the right wing where the king resided in this earth-mansion. It probably wouldn't be long until her master was home, and he so hated it when it wasn't newly cleaned. She had of course done the cleaning, but she had yet to change the sheets, which was now her goal. She preferred the castle back at home, honestly - many more places to hide and a lot more for Yeremy to do in stead of bothering her all the time.

... and speaking of the devil, there he was. Lena spun around on her heel the second she spotted the familiar fair skin and black hair. She quickly regretted the action though, knowing she had to finish her tasks, and taking a deep breath, she turned back, fixed her gaze on the ground and kept walking towards him. Right into the lion's den.
_______________

Bowen

Bowen Tane wasn't in a very patient mood right now. His brother was out, doing whatever the hell he wanted, because that's what a king did, and Bowe was left with his whelp of a servant, James. He had brought his own, of course... his little blonde. A girl who did little to hide the fact that she wanted him. It was pathetic, yes, and like all Lykae, Bowe loved the thrill of a hunt. However, sometimes he just didn't have the time to spend time on girls, and in those cases, Amy showed him a good time. He wasn't really a fan of foregoing sex, you see. The problem with James wasn't that Bowe had to take him as a servant - no, the problem was... that his dear brother wanted things done in a certain way, and Bowen was trying to make sure the pup survived his first 100 years in Narek's services. Something not many servants did.

"Scrub harder, boy." He ordered, calmly - not harsh, not rough, just expressionless as he watched James trying to wash blood out of the pristine wooden floors of Narek's private quarters. The king had had another one of his fits when a girl had forgotten to bring bacon with his breakfast. Lykaes, especially male ones, needed meat, and well... the king loved his food. Bowen leaned against the door-frame, big arms crossed over his broad torso, darkbrown eyes set on James. This was what his life had become. He... was a baby sitter. He should secure a teenage-girl for that... some human chick who might fit the little whelp - like in all the American movies.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Haven Nadia Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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James Dylor

"Yes Sir." Was James's prompt reply. His vocabulary had shrunken to those few phrases he needed to get by with minimum resistance. 'Yes sir, I will Sir, I'll try harder, Sir,' occasionally Sir was traded with M'lord, and sometimes My King, but really it was all the same. All the same work, on his knees with his shirt rolled up at the elbows scrubbing the floor as best he could. His hair was draped limply over his forehead and his lips were parted with exertion, his face a few shades paler and sweat beginning to bead on his skin from the sheer effort of trying to remove blood from wood. It was only just possible to do.

And of course, crouching on his knees with the scrub brush clamped in his fingers wasn't a very flattering position for the young halfer. He pressed all his weight onto the thing, trying with all his might to get the last of the ugly blood stain out of the wood. It was scary, because he knew if he didn't do a good job someone else would have to scrub his bloodstain out of some floor. If nothing else, James decided that he'd try and stand on another hardwood floor if that ever happened and save the poor soul who'd take his job the trouble it took to to clean a rug or carpet.

"I will try harder, M'lord." He tailed his previous comment with another of his automatic responses in his soft drone voice. He was a well-trained pup, polite and uncomplaining. If only that was all it took to do the job right. He'd much prefer to do a job without so much...physical labor. That only reminded him how much he was lacking in the strength and masculinity department. Perhaps the worst part was that he really couldn't get very well angry about it, because that section of his mind was mostly blocked off to him through his own practice. And his mother's teachings.

James shifted positions, continuing to scrub with his body splayed almost prostrate on the ground. His knees were beginning to ache, but he continued doggedly. The stain was beginning to slowly fade, and under his breath the male was murmuring numbers, counting backwards from two-thousand. It helped. He couldn't do it when the king was around, for obvious reasons, but now he figured that he was in the clear to murmur whatever he liked to keep himself going.





Sabine Marx


Sabine was sunning himself, to say the least. Stretching his legs in the human world, tasting the air he'd not breathed for a while. He didn't often visit this place unless he had some reason. This one was that the other two of the war triangle had wandered their ways here, so Sabine had decided that he must pursue them. Just in case any funny business was afoot. Sabine didn't find funny things very amusing. Mostly because they weren't. He wasn't above contemplating whether those two were plotting an alliance against him, and he was perfectly ready to account that possibility in any plan he made. Which including bringing a larger guard than normal. he was just being sensible, not paranoid. Obviously.

His wraith-like figure, easily royal looking, gracefully drifted along. He was going to find a place to sit and read in the sun. He'd needed to get away from the castle so the servants could put everything together without him tormenting them. It made them work faster when he wasn't around because they didn't have to avoid him, he knew. And he found it somewhat amusing that they feared him so.

He wasn't like the Lykae king. He didn't kill anyone. He didn't tolerate killing under his roof. aiming a bit, perhaps, but no killing. If it took longer than two months to recuperate it wasn't going to happen. His little tug-along Lena received worse from the Guard and the other servants than from him, he was aware, and perhaps that was why he toyed less with her in the physical pain sense than he did with most. Usually he didn't hesitate to give someone a good smack or toss them across the room, but with Lena, ah, she was one to play with verbally, really.

If it was anyone else one could say that the king doted on the servant, but as it was Sabine, perhaps it could be said that he found it not in his favor to hurt the girl as much. Or perhaps he really did dote on her in his own obscure way. There wasn't much of a way to tell though, so the matter was left well enough alone.

Sabine's demeanor, his regal bearing, and the aura that surrounded him made others leave a wide berth around him. When he arrived at his destination, a little park near the busy bit of this human nest, he closed his green eyes for a second before trying to decide where to sit. His spot of choice wasn't totally unoccupied. A little human woman was sitting there, but all the same the tall daemon strolled over and settled himself down. he looked at her for a moment and she looked back with wide eyes. Then she got up and moved somewhere else, her back crouched and her head ducked like he'd struck her. The ghost of a smirk flitted across his face, then he turned his platinum blonde head towards his book.

His back was still ram-rod straight, but his neck was bent downward. it was obvious that he was utterly absorbed in the thick novel in his hands. It was a human writing, Sabine enjoyed reading them when he had nothign better to do. The library at his earthly abode was stocked with them, he always read them when he was sunning himself.

It was War and Peace today, he was a quarter of the way through the book and deeply intrigued by the going-ons. These odd little Russian humans were rather fascinating in their mindless, short-lived ways. It was difficult to comprehend only living for less than a hundred years before dying, and Sabine enjoyed attempting to wrap his mind around it. It made him feel peacefully, he didn't have to worry about emoting, because this little world within the words was a different one, apart. It was safe, in a way.

Time passed swiftly for the engrossed Daemon, and soon enough the sun was beginning to set. He barely moved a muscle. He could head home now, but he was feeling pleasantly calm, at peace with himself. Like basking in the sun, he wanted to bask in that emotion. The quaint little park was the perfect place to do so. But ah, a slight twinge in his innards told him that he should be getting home, something was awry. Or at the very least there was someone to punish. He rose gracefully and scanned the park once before beginning to walk. He almost glowed in the shimmering light of the moon, it played against his pale skin and his light hair that was like liquid silver in the night. he spotted another figure moving through the night, but made no move towards it as it hurried to a tree. He merely paused to examine it for a few second before continuing his graceful glide.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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#, as written by Mela
Bowen

Bowe shook his head slightly at the boy's replies. How awful the life of a servant must be. They never spoke their minds out of fear and they had to do what they were told, no matter who gave the order. For they were lowest on the food-chain. Well, of course the king's personal servant was placed higher than most, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he displeased the king and ended up dead. He decided to show the boy some kindness. After all, they weren't demons. Lykaes had hearts and warmth as oppose to those cold creatures. How they got by without feeling anything at all, or even showing the least of kindness, was beyond his comprehension.

Then he heard the boy starting to count, causing him to smile wryly. He knew he wasn't quite as terrifying in his demeanor as his beloved brother, which was why the whelp dared make sounds not asked of him. He didn't mind it at all, because Bowen, along with everyone who knew him, was very aware just how powerful a Lykae he really was. He had not fought the king since they were children, but if he did, he was pretty sure, that though his brother beat him in the strength-department, his speed, agility and training, along with the ability to keep his head cool, would make him no easy opponent. honestly, Bowe knew with himself that he would win. Not that he'd ever utter the words. They were outright treasonous indeed, but he considered it more of a silent brotherly competition in the corners of his mind. He would never investigate the issue, mainly because he loved his brother and country... but also, he wasn't really all that interested. He liked keeping some things to himself.

"It's looking good, pup. You may take a break when you're done; run down to the kitchen and get yourself some food," he said, then thinking of the boy's inevitable exhaustion this time of day, he added, "and once you've eaten, you can tell the cook that I gave permission for you to have a long bath this evening." The servants had tight schedules, so yes... bathing was limited to a ten-minute span, sometimes less. It was the cook's job to make sure no one took longer than necessary, but Bowe often found a little cruel. They worked hard after all, but he was aware that time was a thing they did not have much of, despite their immortality. He looked the whelp in front of him over, before focusing on the retracting bloodstain. He was a hard worker, Bowe would give him that. Despite being only half-Lykae and a little one at that, the boy in front of him had managed to reduce the bloodstain quicker than most Lykae servants. Or perhaps he merely feared more for his life... he was rather young.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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James Dylor

At first James made no response, he was at one thousand three hundred and two at this point. He merely continued to scrub the floor with the same intensity, as if he hadn't heard the other's words. The shrinking of the spot was slowing as it inched closer to it's core, were the blood was soaked deeper into the wood, and James had to press even harder to draw the stain out. It didn't leave much room for thought. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and he had to pause for a moment to drag his forearm across his sweaty face. Soon enough, thankfully, the spot was gone. Negative two hundred and eight. James's fingers ran across the now clean wood. They trembled slightly.

Having finished his job, the servant looked up at Bowen. Slowly he stood and retrieved his bucket, which was mostly empty now, then moved to leave. He paused before the other and bowed deeply. "You are kind, M'lord." He spoke in his soft voice. Then he was on his way. He supposed that he should be excited, but he was too tired to feel much of anything at the moment. The deep hollows under his eyes spoke of that. He hugged the bucket to his chest to keep his posture straight; he'd fall over like a sack of flour without its support. Life was so tiresome at times like these. He knew he should work harder, but there wasn't any physical way that he could. He was already stretching himself to his limit.

Working hard was a very compelling mode of action for two reasons. One, he would die if he didn't do his best, his best being exactly what the King thought it should be, whether he could achieve that standard or not, and Two, he was by nature a hard worker. There was perhaps something satisfying about finishing a job. He worked more diligently and more efficiently than many of the other servants, despite his weakness. It was sad really. But James never pondered on such things long, simply put, he didn't have very much time to think. Especially of late.

The boy put his cleaning supplies back where they belonged then wandered back to the kitchens to eat. James always ate with much gusto, something that truly marked him out as a lykae. He shoved food into his mouth quickly, his belly complaining about how distended it was becoming, James rarely ate a noon meal. Then it was off to take a bath. He explained to the cook, who responded skeptically, but believed the boy anyway.

James wasn't a liar.

Then James was nodding off in the water between cleaning his torso and washing his hair. It was difficult to stay conscious, it seemed.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Sapphire Allyson Parker Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth Character Portrait: Bowen Tane Character Portrait: Draketh Valhinsley
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Sapphire


As the haunting man started walking to her, Sapphire dropped her finger and glanced around the room in an attempt to locate Gwen, but she couldn't. If she left me to go hump the bartender, without even getting me a damn drink, I'll kill her, she thought, before reverting her gaze to the man now by her side. Up close he became even more interesting, his eyes a cold, yet somehow warm grey, and his skin... she couldn't remember ever seeing that smooth skin on a man before. It was curious how her body instantly heated as he touched her. Sapphire didn't move as she usually did when some guy started touching her up like that, but rather watched him. Goosebumps started spreading where his hand left her skin to gently touch her hair before leaving her. Not the bad goosebumps, though. The good ones. Sapphire never got those anymore as excitement, true excitement, truly had been a no-show for years.

Then he spoke, voice deep, but melodic, like a tune drawing her closer; "What are you doing sitting here by yourself? Your beauty is powerful enough to attract some attention." She only just registered the words, but they drew her out of the haze she'd been in and looked him over again, wry smile on her lips, her right eyebrow slightly raised. She noticed how he was staring at her neck, which frankly unnerved her a little, so she brushed her hair in front of her shoulders in stead of behind them, covering the majority of her neck. She'd seen him ogling her body, which wasn't so surprising, but the neck-staring was weird... really weird. Normally they ogled her breasts, or her long legs or something else guys were usually attracted to, but neck? Oh god, if he was one of those wannabe vampire freaks, she'd die. He was the single most interesting this in this place, and she'd be damned if he was some kind of freak.

However, Sapphire brushed off her nerves. She had purposefully kept her face smiling wryly, not letting her nervousness show on the outside. She gave him a once over before slowly running her hands down her body to smooth her dress over. "Why, that's a bit cheesy, love. Is it not?" She asked, teasing note in her voice. "And I'm not by myself, unless you account yourself for nothing." She added and looked into his eyes once more. Sapphire on grey, and smiled at him, casually but somehow a little bit of amusement sneaked its way into it. Her eyes were vibrant, that glint of mischief still showing. She had trouble getting rid of that damn glint, in truth.

Bowen and Annabelle


Bowen heard the boy's words, but did not respond. In stead, he was occupied by thoughts as the whelp ran down to the kitchen. Bowe could not possibly keep this up - he had other things to do than make sure the king's servant did his job to satisfaction, but he knew no one else had the time either... unless. The thought jumped into Bowe's mind very suddenly and he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier. Belle, of course little Belle would be perfect for it. It would be something to occupy her, as her father had neglected to bring any womanly hobbies along for the 'ride' to earth. He knew the little blonde was bored, and he though maybe James needed to breathe too. He had been around big Lykae males for far too long and Bowe honestly wasn't all that great company. He straightened himself and started walking, heading towards the library, knowing that's where the girl would be hiding out. It was no grand library, as Lykaes didn't much deal in education, but there were enough books for Belle to enjoy... mostly because she and her father had brought a lot.

"Belle?" he spoke softly, entering the room. He could smell her flowery scent so he knew she was there somewhere. Big, curly blonde hair and a big smile made its appearance quickly as the girl... or woman, he supposed, walked out from behind a bookcase.

"Hello, Bowen." She said, and made a light curtsy to her prince. "What brings you here?" She asked, truly wondering. Bowen didn't waste his time, so if he came looking for her, it would be because he needed her for something, which she truly didn't mind. After the first week or so, she'd grown bored. Her father had told her that he wanted her to stay in the mansion until he was certain no vampires or demons were out to get her. Paranoid man, yes, but he was merely trying to protect her, so dutiful as always, Belle had stayed as requested.

Bowen spent no time exchanging courtesies, because frankly he found them useless, and he had a feeling the king was in trouble, so in stead of being formal with the tiny beauty, he merely smiled and told her what he wanted from her. It earned him a great smile and another curtsy as the girl thanked him. The he left to go hunt down his brother, a little annoyed that he brought so much attention to himself in the human world.

Belle watched Bowen leave the room. He'd been a little short with her, but she'd appreciated the task. Women very rarely got to do anything, and she was thankful for his trust in her. She was a little worried that the king would take any mistakes from the servant out on her too. What was his name again? James, she remembered. Bowe had only mentioned once, but he'd noted that it was a nice kid, and that she was not to mention her noble birth. She didn't know why, but she supposed it didn't much matter, as long as James got the job done. So Belle put her book back onto one of the many shelves in the little library that she now knew as well as her own room back home. She'd spent a lot of time her, in all honesty.

Belle then ran a hand through her hair and glanced around her. Goodbye library, she thought before walking to the kitchen. She shook her head slowly at the cook about to address her, then gave her a smile when she kept quiet. This was going to be hard work, she realized. But on the other hand, Bowe had only said for her not to mention her status, so she was somewhat in the clear, she supposed. She walked past the cook, through the kitchen and into a long hallway with 5 doors on either side, knowing exactly where the male servants' bathroom was, so she made her way there. Of course, she did not walk inside, but she stood still just outside the door, waiting patiently. That was something she knew how to do. As a woman in the Lykae-world, you keep quiet and wait for a man to either speak to you or take action. Simple really, but boring. However, in her 114 years of life, Annabelle had grown quite accustomed to the waiting. She held her hands in front of her, locked to eachother and stood straight. She sure hoped he wouldn't take too long.

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Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Haven Nadia Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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Sabine Marx

She was helpless, apparently. Sabine could see it in the woman's eyes. A terror that left her rooted to the spot. When she stammered out her answer, something twitched in Sabine's chest. He was...irritated with her. She was so innocently weak, it seemed. She barely reacted because she looked to be paralyzed with fear. His eyes tightened for a second, and he exhaled softly, taking a few more steps forward. She wasn't fun to toy with, but at the same time, Sabine couldn't help but feel intreuged. Why had she followed him in the first place. She didn't look stupid. But people didn't just follow him. They usually didn't come with-in a few meters of him because of his intimidating appearance. But yet when he turned his attentions on her she just froze up. It was almost a puzzle. He'd never seen such a thing in a human before. Admittedly he wanted to unwind this game. It promised amusement.

"Let's keep it that way." his voice was a low Russian purr, but it lacked real emotion. He could play with words all he wanted, but he couldn't be bothered to infuse it with the proper inflection. He captured her arm, crooking his own elbow around it. He would pursue this puzzle, and he would win. It was only fun when he won. "I shall escort to your home." It wasn't a question.

Her body was warm with adrenaline. She was beautiful in the superficial use of the word. She had pleasing features. And she was a sun daughter. But he couldn't perceive how many pages her book had at a glance. Was she as full of words as the novel tucked under his other arm, or was she merely a human magazine. Usually he could tell how shallow these little humans were. But like he'd already decided, she was a little book of puzzles.




James Dylor

The young male managed to keep awake long enough to finish his bath. He dried and re-clothed himself before exiting the washroom. He was slightly surprised to find a young woman right outside the door. The startled expression passed across his face briefly, but he composed himself swiftly. "May I help you, Miss?" He asked, inclining his head slightly. He didn't think he'd seen her around before, and it was safer to guess up rather than down. She couldn't be too high in rank, she was in the servant quarters after all. It was dangerous too guess to high in rank, but it was similarly dangerous to guess too low. He was polite though, he wouldn't treat any of the lower servants rudely, even if they were female.

Although, she seemed too well groomed to be a servant.

Ah, it wasn't his place to wonder. She obviously needed something, and it was his job to help people.

He couldn't help but flick his eyes over her face though. he liked looking at people's faces, expressions, they told so much about the person's personality. This was a pretty young blonde creature, about his age perhaps? He wondered what she needed.

Setting

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Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Sapphire Allyson Parker Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth Character Portrait: Draketh Valhinsley
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Sapphire


As he looked at her eyes once more - not her neck, thank god - he started speaking once more "I'm just complimenting on your dress coding, it's really an attention getter. When I came in here, you were sitting here with your elegancy." His words forced a soft laugh from her lips so combining that with the loud, shitty music, she only just heard "your" from his next sentence. Having been around many men, though, she had no trouble guessing that he was asking about. She also knew he didn't really give much of a shit. Men wanted one thing, and if they had to smalltalk women into it, that's what they'd do. Obviously, none of them cared. They'd just as well fuck you without your name, and just moan baby. Much easier than Sapphire anyways. So she looked up at the man and his captivating grey eyes, raising a single eyebrow at him. She didn't reply, because the man then spoke again, asking if he could ask her something. She'd never understood why people did that. Ask to ask... wasn't it a little pointless? She chuckled a bit at the absurdity and as he leaned in closer, bringing them nose to nose, she said, "sure thing, loverboy," a little husky note in her voice.

His next words were surprising, admittedly, and so was the hand-holding. What the hell was he doing? Sapphire frowned when the man kissed her hand and looked around her, searching for Gwen. She really needed a little hero right now. This was becoming a little eerie. She definitely needed to get away from him. He was just a little too close, a little too fast. When he started making his path up her arm, stopping at her neck, Sapphire froze. She wasn't looking at him, being too busy trying to find her friend, but she could feel his breath on her. However, as suddenly as he'd begun kissing her, he stopped and moved into his former position. Sapphire released a relieved gust of air from her lips. She should be way more creeped out than she actually was, but in stead of getting out of there, she stayed. This stranger had peeked her curiosity, and she wasn't entirely sure what that entailed right now.

She cleared her throat and pulled her hand out of his the second she felt him starting to let go if it. She glanced around her again. Where the hell is that girl?! she wondered, quite annoyed. She hated it when Gwen just ran off. Then her eyes found the mystery in front of her once more.

"Look. I don't know what game you're playing here, but the touchy-feely stuff? You should wait for a woman's approval on that one next time. We don't generally like it when strangers start getting a little too close like that." She said, a slight frown on her face, but it soon transformed into a smirk, "besides... you could've just asked," she added and leaned in give his earlobe a little nibble. Just one - then she leaned back into her former position. "And you don't really care about what my name is, so let's just cut the crap, so you can tell me what you want. A guy doesn't just walk up a woman merely to talk a little and kiss her hand." She looked him over, grey eyes, smirk and all. Her own smile turned wry, but she couldn't quite shake the naughty glint in her eyes.

"And for the record... if I didn't somewhat enjoy your company, doll, then I wouldn't still be here. But maybe that's just me."


Annabelle


She stood there for a little while, but it wasn't unbearably long, so she wasn't entirely bored when the little man stepped out. She'd known how the king's personal servant looked, so she knew what she'd find, though his startled expression amused her into smiling at him. He was cute, but so very unlike all other Lykae males... even the halflings she'd met had been some big brutes. Only slightly taller than her, he didn't appear frightening in any aspect of the word, and she had to admit... it was a nice change. She felt at ease with this man.

"May I help you, Miss?" he asked her and she laughed a little, just a soft slight laugh. He appeared rather uncertain, like he didn't quite know what to make of her, and she didn't blame him. Back at home, she would've worn the dresses of a highly noble woman, but here, she was more free to dress however she wanted, though she was guessing she still didn't quite look like any of the servants. They were a little more worn down, you might say, not having lived the protected life she had. Belle shook her head at James, friendly smile on her lips. She had already decided to disregard proper etiquette, and merely address this man as an equal. She thought maybe that's what Bowen had thought the servant needed.

"Oh, I don't need anything," she said, and relaxing her stance, her smile grew a little. She had a feeling she was going to like this little change of routines. "And please, just call me Belle, or Anna if you'd like. It'll be much more comfortable, seeing as we will be spending a lot of time together." She said. She thought he might have questions, so in stead of moving anywhere, Belle stayed put, waiting til he had everything sorted out. After that, they could walk away from here. The hallway was a little eerie, she had to admit.

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Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Haven Nadia Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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Sabine Marx

She was certainly a curious little human. He could feel her stealing a glance at him. She was curious, he could tell. A curiously curious human. He could feel her shivering, but she didn't press closer to him, she merely shoved her hands into her pockets. She was wary of him, but wary enough. It was mildly irritating that she wasn't reacting any more than shooting little looks at his profile and shivering. Humans scurried from him, they avoided him, but she seemed almost perfectly fine with him. Not the way things were supposed to work. He would win though, the platinum blonde decided. He'd evoke in her what usual humans felt at the mere sight of the tall male. But he'd have to change tactics. It'd take time, he knew, but for now he'd have to be polite. Detached though. Politely detached.

He felt her look at him again, then she let her head fall so she was staring at the ground. That was an irritating human habit as well. The ground was not the place to look. One needed to have their chin up at all times. When she spoke, he turned his head towards her again, listening to her human small talk. He wasn't one for it, but he'd play along. He also noticed the goosebumps spreading across her arms, she truly did look cold. Sabine didn't really notice the cold, he didn't mind it. it wasn't as pleasant as sunlight, but it wasn't foul. Perhaps he was cold by nature, like a lizard on one of those other reptiles.

"I was enjoying the sun." he stated simply. "But I forgot the time." He proffered the book slightly, so she could see it. Then, in an easy movement he shed his long cloak-like jacket, removing his arm from around hers to do so. It wasn't too heavy a jacket, he had been going out to sun, but it was part of his ensemble anyway, and he rarely removed it. That was one someone simply didn't do. But he was in the human world, and he had a purpose, so he was justified in walking around in just his black collared shirt and lighter hued vest.

"You are cold." He said, draping it around her shoulders. "What was a delicate lady such as yourself doing outside on such a chilly night? Walking seems an understatement." If inflection infused his tone. Sabine didn't notice it. But his eyebrows did raise slightly, as if he was truly curious about her reply.




James Dylor

She looked friendly enough. But...she didn't need anything? What? Then why was she speaking with him. No one spoke with him unless they needed or wanted something from him. What did she want from him? Merely company? Her words seemed to imply that. 'We will be spending a lot of time together.' He had not been informed of this. Was she an apprentice, or a guest, or the daughter of some high-middle classer like his father who wanted his daughter to get out into the world. She really did seem to be a little older or perhaps a little younger than him, but less tired.

"If you wish, mi- Belle." He said politely, inclining his head slightly again.

The chocolate haired young male paused for a second before putting out a query. "What are you in the castle for?" His words her hesitant. "If-I mean, you are willing to answer." Sometimes things were private, he understood that, and he didn't want to press her into telling him something she didn't want known.

"Oh, and My name is James..in case you didn't, um, didn't know. I'm the King's personal servant." He added belatedly. Speaking of the king, where was he? He was usually back at the palace at this time, demanding this or that. Secretly James was glad he wasn't home yet. The peace and calm were much needed.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Yeremy Markovich Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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Annabelle


Belle couldn't help smiling at James' awkwardness. He truly wasn't used to company, she gathered. How fascinating, how... interesting, and it was a challenge for a girl of her type. She would make sure this man felt comfortable in his own skin, though she had no idea how long it would take. She wanted to help him, she realized. She now understood why Bowen had been so adamant about the kid's survival. He just ignited some sort of instinct in her, not quite protective or parental, but more like the way you'd want to protect a fellow Lykae. She never had that; the Lykaes she knew would never need protection from one such as her. She giggled a little at his flustered attempt of talking to her, but didn't find him pathetic. Rather... cute. It was a concept unknown to the young female. Lykaes were not cute. They were handsome or good-looking, never cute and adorable. This halfling certainly was an abnormality. Luckily for him, she loved a puzzle.

"I know who you are," she said matter-of-factly, smiling at him. "And I'm in the mansion... here on earth, out of the simple reason that my father thought it would be good for me." She chose her words carefully, making sure she didn't exclude too much, but just enough not to lie to the man. Lykaes, nomatter how human, could sniff out lies like they could vampires. Often, as she'd been taught, the two were one. Lies and vampires. That's why they were at war; the two species were complete opposites. Where Lykaes valued honor and feelings, the Vampires were arrogant liars who took joy in drinking human blood. They even kept slaves. Slaves. She shook of the thought, returning her attentions to the man. She supposed she'd have to come up with some sort of explanation.

"The prince informed me that I was to keep you company, as he had other things to do." She then added in an explanatory manner. She hoped it was enough, that he didn't ask why her or something like that, because if she had to be honest... she had no idea why Bowe had chosen her over everyone else. It was as much a mystery to her, as it would probably be to the young male.


Lena


Lena had spent a little while making sure everything was as tidy as possible in the king's chambers. Then she'd positioned herself in the big chair at the huge windows and looked outside. The night was dark and without the sun she so dearly loved, but it was intriguing in its own right, she had to admit. There was just something captivating about the moon. She didn't know how long she sat there, but she'd lost touch with reality, retracting into herself to think, to take refuge from her current position. Yeremy ranked highest in the mansion right now, and she didn't like it. It meant there was no one to stop him from doing whatever he wanted.

However, as the door burst open, she was jolted back into the human world and straightened herself, trying to locate the intruder. The next thing she knew, she was looking into Yeremy's cold, angry eyes and fear hit hard. This was the Yeremy that scared her senseless. This was the man she knew he was at heart. The man who only had to look at her to make her run away screaming. Well, she had once upon a time. Now, as times had passed, Lena'd fears had subsided slightly, but they were still ever-present, and she hated it. Hated the control this monster had over her. His words, however, surprised her. He wanted her to go out with him? What kind of sick game was he playing now? She wondered, trying to keep the fear out of her expression. Problem was, as he grabbed onto her, she no longer had control of her body and it started shivering slightly, a cold chilly feeling running down her spine.

Get it together, Lena... you can handle this. You can. Just.. don't look at him, she thought, and so, seeing the reason in her own words, Lena took her deep breath and looked down at her captured wrist. No eye-contact, that was the way to collect herself. It didn't take him long to speak again, to her regret. Malice was evident in his voice, and she could almost feel the restlessness and irritation seeping from him. Oh god, was he punishing her for the words she'd said earlier? It would be just like him, to let her think she was off the hook, then hit her hard afterwards. This, and many more scenarios played through Lena's mind, but she knew she had no choice. She couldn't go hiding behind a king not present, so instead, realizing her lack of choice in the matter, she looked back into Yeremy's scary eyes, breath shallow and a little too quick. She would handle this; she would not let fear paralyze her. She was over 500 years old, for Christ's sake, she should've been hardened by now. She wasn't though, but she didn't want to admit it to herself.

So she nodded solemnly at Yeremy and got up. "As my lord commands," she said, aiming for casual indifference, but the shaky quality of her words betrayed her fear, so she took a deep breath, glancing at the big hand holding her captive. If only she wasn't such a weak little halfling. If only she'd been what her father wanted her to be. But, if's never got anyone anywhere, so she disregarded the hopeless thoughts. She merely hoped Yeremy would grow bored with her as he did everything. He never could keep his interest going for anything anymore. She really hoped she wouldn't become like him when she got older. Bored with life, bored with existence, people, and she supposed, even the sun. She didn't think he took much pleasure in anything anymore, but she couldn't be sure. Yeremy was hard to read. She wanted to ask him where he was taking her, and why, but she didn't dare.

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Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Haven Nadia Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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Sabine Marx

Humans were so odd. They had to be distrustful creatures if they had to claim the legitimacy of their statements all the time. Lies were so easy to pick out from truth, but when they added those little words to the end of their explanations, it made him doubt the truthfulness of the speaker. Like they were trying to prove it to themselves. "I don't doubt the validity of your words, I wouldn't unless you provided reason for me to believe otherwise." He spoke. Green eyes flickered to the human for a second before turning away to look across the street they were currently on, at the people on the opposite sidewalk. Human were such foolish creatures. They weren't nearly as bothersome as the vampires or those damned lykaes though, they were more tolerable when one accepted their inherent stupidity.

They had to be nearing her home. And he'd forgotten one of the most important formalities. Perhaps because of the odd way they'd crossed paths. It kept popping up in his mind, frustrating him. Why had she followed him? But he should think about that now, no need becoming angry over such a little thing. He'd discover her intentions soon enough.

"I fear that I've not introduced myself to you." He said abruptly, his smooth accented voice not showing any of the inflection his words implied. It was almost a lie but for its status as a figure of speech. "My name is Sabine Marx. What may I have the pleasure of calling you, sunflower?" Again with the figures of speech. He'd learned to talk well, he could craft lovely sentences until his ears bled, and one could almost pretend that there was some type of subtle emotion behind the carefully crafted syntax.




James Dylor

James nodded reflectively at the blonde's first words. She spoke carefully. What was behind the careful structure of her words. Was she unhappy? Or was there more to her story. The young halfling wasn't going to press the female for more information on that front though. Her other words made his mind buzz though. Company? What? What was Bowen thinking to do? Did he want James to look after the girl, or did he have some other type of agenda in mind? James had not real time to think on it though, because another form had just turned the corner.

A tall male with dark hair, one of the lower servants, probably a message runner by the looks of him. His blue gaze flicked from the girl to the boy, and his eyebrow raised incrementally as he passed. He could only be fifty, perhaps a hundred years older than James, but he was much much taller than the diminutive halfer. He walked passed them, shooting James an irritated look, they were gumming up the hall after all, then slipping behind the washroom door. It closed with a thunk.

"We should probably get moving." James said, beginning to move down the hall. The surprise of meeting a young woman right outside the washroom door was starting to fade, and exhaustion was setting back in. His spine hurt and his eyes were beginning to droop. He blinked a couple times and looked at Belle again.

"What sort of...company does his lordship intend?" James asked carefully. He was wondering mentorship, not that he'd be very good at that, and why would a woman need to know how to perform his job when the King would never allow a woman to be his personal servant, or actually companionship. He couldn't fathom why Bowen would put that on him. It wasn't a particular burden, but he was fine, he didn't need companionship, he was getting on pretty well by himself, wasn't he? Wasn't he?

The anxious look flickered on his face momentarily, but the young male wiped it quickly, closing his eyes for a few seconds. His tiredness was making him paranoid wasn't it.

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Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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Annabelle


She had been watching James carefully, trying to figure him out, but her musings were cut off when a servant she easily recognize walked towards them. Don't you dare talk to me, she thought, watching the servant as his eyebrows raised, but then he merely cast James a look and went into the bathroom. Belle released a slight breath of relieve, looking at James again. Perhaps Bowen had talked to the others about not giving her away. It would surely make her task easier, that was certain. If he hadn't, however, the servant had not followed protocol. If he knew who she was, he should'e greeted her with a bow, respectfully addressing her, recognizing her existence, and then he could walk past. She wondered if she should ask Bowen, but didn't really want to cause the servant harm. So she chose to ignore it, pretend that it hadn't happened.

When James spoke of leaving, Belle nodded and started walking with him. Next to him, but still slightly further behind. That was the place of a woman in most cases... until they got married, anyway. Then they could walk next to their husbands, somewhat as equals. Until then, women were beneath men. Of course Belle wouldn't usually be submissive when it came to servants, as they were bellow even her, but she supposed she had to play the part, so she did, as to not produce any suspicions in the young Lykae's mind. She couldn't quite have that.

It didn't take long for the man to look back at her. It was like his face had transformed, she noticed. He looked utterly prostrated with fatigue and she didn't like it. They weren't supposed to run people into the ground like that. This man needed sleep, badly... probably needed painkillers and some bandages with healing herbs to mend his hands, as she noticed. They looked like hell. Fortunately, Belle, as most noble women, had been taught in the art of medicine. Now, she couldn't become a human doctor, but she was passable as a nurse, she knew. And though Lykaes healed faster than humans, it would still take a couple of hours. She cocked her head slightly when he asked her another question, because she'd noted how he'd paused before company. She wasn't sure what was going on in the male's head, but if he thought her a whore, he had another thing coming, that was certain. Don't get ahead of yourself, Belle... he didn't technically imply anything in that matter, she reasoned, relaxing once more.

She watched James carefully while speaking, "I am to make sure that you do your job well enough for the king not to tear you to pieces," she said bluntly. No reason to lie about that. "But also, take care of you a bit. Which means you are now going to let me bandage your hands, before making sure there is no more tasks for you today. Then you will go to bed, because you're exhausted to the point of breaking down. It is obvious on your face." She gave him a soft, caring smile. Belle knew her words might sound harsh from anyone else, but her soft voice, joined with her caring tone, gave it another air. She'd been careful not to sound commanding. She didn't want him to view her that way. Here, now... she was not his superior. She wasn't sure why she cared about him already... she didn't know him, she'd only just really met him. He just seemed so... vulnerable, unknowingly desperate for a kind word, and it made her heart ache for him.

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Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Haven Nadia Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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Sabine Marx

Sabine watched as the blonde touched her clip again. The flower. It seemed to be a nervous habit of her's. Did she have a problem trusting the integrity of the clip, or had it fallen out one too many times for her? He received his coat, leaving it folded over his arm rather than go to the bother of shrugging it back on. His eyes flicked over her face one last time, then he bowed to her and arranged his countenance into a slight smile. He could, when he wanted to. Usually he was to apathetic to try, but this game promised hours of entertainment, yes?

For good measure, as the slender male lifted his head back up he leaned forward slightly, His profile very close to the human's face, and he spoke in a soft drawling purr. "Keep a watch out for yourself, flower. You might meet another daemon, and I'm sure he probably won't be as kind as I am." His eyes flickered as he turned away, the ghost of the fake smile caressing his lips in amusement. Perhaps he still did want to scare her. He wanted a fearful reaction. But this time, he wasn't going to look back to see if he'd achieved his goal.

"It was a pleasure to meet you." He spoke over his shoulder as he walked off, graceful in a measured way. In his belly he knew he'd be back, and somehow that knowledge brought a mixture of emotions to his belly. Partly annoyance, a bit of real anger, which was mostly directed towards the third feeling, which was unidentifiable. The only thing he knew for certain was that it didn't fall in the lust category. But it wasn't affectionate in the way he held affection for little Lena, she was his rag doll, and this young woman, Haven, was no such thing. She was a mystery and a puzzle.




James Dylor

Well, the not getting ripped apart sounded rather nice. James decided. But he still wasn't absolutely convinced that he wanted this...company. He preferred his singularity. Okay, no that wasn't true, he'd enjoyed the friendships he'd built when he was a human, even though they ended every time he'd had to move. The forty or so years he'd spent blending in with humans, moving from one primary school to another, then secondary school, then finally a array of high schools. Lykaes didn't age exactly like humans, and people would have become suspicious of his seeming eternal youth. But really. James always opted for suffering quietly, because it was easier. He could rely on himself well enough. He couldn't die, and if he let himself down, well, it'd be the very end of it and he wouldn't really have to worry about it anymore anyway.

"O-okay." He said as she belted his new agenda out in a gentle tone. It didn't seem to mix with what she said, but James was too tired to work things out at the moment. And well, it sounded kind of nice. It was pleasant having someone notice his condition and offer aid. It was nice to be cared about, even if it was by someone he wasn't entirely sure about, someone he barely knew. His eyes hit her face again, and an almost smile lifted up his tired face slightly.

Thank you, Miss." He spoke softly. He'd forgotten to call her as she'd requested, but oh well. Habits die hard, he supposed. no use in stumbling over himself to fix the mistake. It was like the fact that she'd been walking slightly behind him. it irritated him, admittedly. not that she was doing that, but because she had to do that. The human mindset, while still rather sexist, hadn't been that bad when he was living there. But he wasn't going to kick up a fuss over it. Now, at least. If she was going to be 'companioning' him, or whatever the heck it was that she was going to do to keep his body intact and the King's floors free of his blood, he was going to set some things down about all the silly customs of the Lykaes. He wasn't having that, it'd probably make his head explode. or something like that. But with less explosions, because explosions required cleaning.




Sabine Marx

Shortly after he strolled down Haven's street and disappeared from her view, Sabine was walking briskly back towards home, pulling his jacket back over his shoulders. he looked slightly ruffled, as well as slightly distracted, but other than that he still held the same air. Quickly he re-entered his manor without a word. he was...reflecting. He stepped swiftly up to his quarters and settled down in his luxurious chair, the one that sat next to one of the windows. It was curtained at the moment.

The tall platinum blonde did not seem to notice the absence of his personal servant, and when one of the lower servants entered his room after a tentative knock, Sabine sent him away with a glare before looking back down at his book. He was two hundred pages from finishing. Visibly he still looked tired a a touch haunted, and his hair was slightly mussed, which was unusual for him. Usually he looked absolutely impeccable at all times.

He was obviously displeased about something.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Uriel Maion Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth Character Portrait: Devyn Petrova
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Annabelle


When Belle heard James' thanks, she smiled at him, even as he hadn't used her name. Had he perhaps forgotten already? She asked herself, but shrugged it off. Even if he had, she was sure it was merely due to this fatigue so apparent in his entire posture. Poor guy. Personally she would've never survived as a servant or maid in this place, so she sort of admired him. He'd so far survived longer than most of Narek's personal servants. And thinking of Narek... where on earth was he? He was usually home by now, and so was Bowen. Then it hit her that he'd probably broken some human law or other. He tended to do that, as Narek was not accustomed to laws being made by anyone but himself. This human world must be hard for him to adapt into, especially with that temper of his.

"The kitchen has what I need to speed up the healing of your hands, so we should probably go there." She told James, smiling at him, her eyes honest and sparkly as they always were when she was in a good mood. "Oh, and James, it's Belle," she added, just as they walked into the kitchen. Belle sent the cook look, making the woman nod and walk out of the kitchen without a sound, then Belle went to work, going through the cabinets, taking out a few herbs and liquids here and there, not yet caring where James put himself. She had to make the ointment first. That was her main goal right now. Luckily it had practically been branded into her skull, the recipe.


Devyn


The beautiful guard exclaimed a sigh as Uriel walked out of the club with his toy for the evening. Ugh, if she had to count all the times she'd had to follow this guy around, while he fucked one woman or the other, she wouldn't do anything else anymore. But she did have to follow him this time too. So bottom's up on her drink, and then she got up to trail behind Uriel. Well, at least she had something to look at, 'cause he sure did have a nice ass, but it wasn't enough to sweeten the experience. She'd seen it a million times before, if not more. Her strides were calm and controlled, her long legs elegantly moving at an easy pace, while her heels softly clicked on the pavement. No trouble came to them that evening, unfortunately. Would've been nice with a human to take her irritation out on... perhaps even have a little sip from, but nooo... tonight, of all night, the streets were vacant besides the two vampires and the male's human. Just great.

When the two walked inside to do gods knows what, Devyn contemplated going in too. The air was slightly chilly, and she hadn't brought a jacket, so her arms were bare. Devyn wore black, tight jeans, and a darkblue tanktop long enough to cover half her bottom, so her legs weren't bare. That was a slight blessing, she supposed, but she didn't much care to stand outside for the next hour or so, so instead, Devyn opened the door. Idiots hadn't locked it; well, that saved her some breath in having to break in, so she wasn't complaining. Then she walked inside and took a seat on the sofa, crossing her legs elegantly. Her posture, as always, was straight and elegant as her gaze took in the room. It wasn't big, but then again... Uriel didn't much need a big livingroom to have sex with the woman. Devyn didn't really listen in on the two, but she could easily hear the moaning already taking place. Geez, he didn't waste time, did he?

Devyn felt grumpy. She didn't like it, but it was what it was. She knew who she had to blame, but Uriel didn't care how her evening went. He cared about himself, and no one but himself. Might aswell be a demon for all the feelings the guy had. And that, among other things, was why she would never sleep with him. All Uriel really cared about was how many women he could sleep with. He left them right after, whether they were vampires or humans, and he forgot most of their names. She was willing to bet he didn't even remember the ravenhaired human's name, because he didn't give a flying fuck. That was the king's adviser for ya.

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Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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James Dylor

At first James thought that the blonde had missed his slip, but then she shot him a playful correction. He knew that she couldn't punish him if she was, as he assumed, similar to him in rank, but still, right when she turned, before she spoke he flinched slightly. It was an instinct. Mistake begets correction and correction begets punishment. And punishment usually wasn't all that fun to endure. No walk through the garden there. It was an irrational fear at the moment, but usually it was all too real for James to just brush it off, even at a time like this. He had to keep himself in the cyclic mode, or he'd start to deviate, and everyone knew what would happen if they deviated while serving the Lykae court. And the king. One didn't even have to deviate to receive punishment from the king on occasions.

In the kitchen James wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself. If was unusual to not be busy. It was almost foreign, in a way. he settled himself down on the floor, leaning against one of the ovens. The warmth was pleasant on his back. He examined his hands. Sure they were a little beat up, but they usually looked like that. His finger pads were mostly callused, and well as the higher surfaces on his palm. The raw streaks on the valley of each palm were a little painful, but he was used to them. The rawness in the webbing between his thumb and knight finger, however was uncomfortable. It wasn't as bad as it was when he rubbed raw the webbing between say... his king and queen or queen and pawn fingers though. That made it painful to move his fingers.

James tugged on his fingers for a little while, noting that the skin where his chess fingers met his palm was a little rough as well, it was beginning to blister, promising another callus. He couldn't sport a callus there though, because then he wouldn't be able to close his fist or bend his fingers very much at all. He winced slightly. That meant he'd have to resort to pulling off the callus and leaving the tender skin stinging for the days before it could properly heal. Which would be just as bad as having the callus in the first place. He didn't mind them on his fingers, it meant that he could do quite a bit more without his skin complaining of the pain, He could rest his fingertips on a burning surface for a matter of seconds and wouldn't start feeling it right away.

The dark haired boy also had calluses on his elbows and his knees and the soles of his feet from all the work he did walking and scrubbing floors. scrubbing bloody floors.

The young halfling pulled himself from the thoughts, looking up at his 'companion'. He still didn't know what to make of her, but he decided that he'd tolerate her and act politely until he could decide. She didn't seem to have hidden motives or anything of that nature, but then again, one never could tell completely. Humans were like that too, but only in the short run. Long run they were ever too predictable. Same thing happened to lykaes, but it just took longer for the patterns to emerge. How long would it take her to become predictable?

It wasn't a bad thing, persay, but at the same time, it could become tedious, while it was safe. James needed it for his job. He needed to do the same things in the same ways because those routs of action had been deemed safe. safety and survival were key for him.

How would Belle aid his survival in this world? He didn't exactly know.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Yeremy Markovich Character Portrait: Narek Tane Character Portrait: Alara Azlea Parker Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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Annabelle


Belle was greatly occupied trying to find all the remedies she needed for the balm; busy feet moving from one place to the other, industrious hands opening one cupboard before the next, shuffling around a shelf too high up for her to see, opening drawers and checking labels. In the end, Belle had a number of ingredients on the kitchen-table in front of her, lined up, labels visible. She smiled to herself, satisfied that she’d located everything, and that there was actually enough to make a nice portion too. Seemed like this wouldn’t be the only time he’d need it. She had felt so bad, looking at those hands of his, and then glancing at her own spotless, soft palms she made a face. Life was unfair to some, and yet so fortunate to others. She had merely been lucky, where James hadn’t been. It wasn’t her fault, she knew that, but she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at her gentle, sheltered life.

As Belle’s mind quickly went over how to prepare each ingredient before finalizing an actual balm, she quickly got to work, that quilt still eating at her. Such a silly feeling really, but she couldn’t shake it, and she supposed it was alright. She was a woman after all, and women weren’t supposed to be tough. It didn’t take her long to crush herbs, mash leaves and press the juice out of fruits. Oranges to be exact. She couldn’t remember why the fruit was necessary… perhaps merely for the sake of scent, but she wouldn’t be one to discard it anyway. Taking out a bowl she’d noticed in a floor-level cupboard, Belle began mixing all of her ingredients in the exact order she’d been told to do it many years ago. True, it had been a while, as this was child’s teachings for a noble female, but it was like riding a bike, really. Once you learned, you simply never forgot.

She hadn’t even noticed that she’d started humming a lullaby-tune until she stopped whipping the thick, green substance into how it was supposed to look, and stopped to take a breath. Her arms were way to thin and feeble for her to be doing all that manual work, really. They were already aching from the whipping. Granted, the balm was thick, but she still felt pathetic. She felt satisfied with the look of things, though. It had the right substance, the right smell, and the right colour, so she’d be damned if she’d made it the wrong way. Grabbing the bandages she’d managed to find in a box on a top-shelf she’d barely been able to reach, she turned, smiling at the dakrhaired servant she’d decide to help. “You ought to take better care of yourself, you know,” she said, playfully scolding him a little.

Then she took the bowl of balm in her free hand and moved to sit down in front of him on the floor, put the things down beside her and smiled at him. “This should help, though,” she spoke, voice soft and friendly, eyes warm, as she gestured for him to put his hand in hers, “with all the scar-tissue too. I’m going to put this balm on your hands, and then put bandages around them, okay?” She explained it merely so she wouldn’t shock him with anything she did. He seemed a bit jumpy, even though he didn’t even know who she was. It made her wonder if maybe he suspected her status, or merely feared from everyone. If the latter was the case, then she truly felt bad for him. To live a life without trust or friendship? Yes, she knew he had to work hard to please the king, but had he really not a single person he could relax around? It saddened her.



Bowen


Bowe smiled at Alara as she told him her name, truly grateful that the woman had chosen to correct her mistake. He didn’t like cocky people – sure, he was an arrogant bastard at times himself, but that didn’t mean he liked to be. It was merely a matter of need for him, as oppose to Narek who couldn’t really help it. Their parents had spoiled him too much, so even when they were children, Narek had gotten everything. Truthfully it had initiating many of their childhood fights, as Bowen had not taken kindly to the fact that Narek got to just steal his toys. It was a long time ago, but as time had passed and Narek had become king, it’d only gotten worse. The was no changing the stubborn king. He was, and would always be, a spoiled brat, to put things mildly.

Other than the smile, Bowen kept his face plain and emotionless, listening to the woman. Disgust and annoyance pretty much flowed from her words, even as they somewhat polite… well, except for the taunting ‘little king’, which she’d used several times now. Fortunately for her, Bowen had no need to defend Narek’s honour in such things. If he had to be completely honest, he was grateful someone told him off for once. And so, he almost chuckled when she told him to learn to keep his temper in check. It was like right out of Bowen’s own mouth, and has his admiration and amusement grew with the woman, he almost felt bad for ‘warning’ her earlier, but soon beat the feeling down. He had a duty to his brother, and that was more important than anything. Especially some human woman, even though she truly was a tough one.

In all honesty, Bowen was glad he didn’t have to ruin her, as he let her pass him, because he had a feeling she would become truly great sometime. A part of him recognized the traits in her and knew she was a fighter. How amazing it would be if Narek fell for a girl like that; someone who wouldn’t just sit and take his crap, but rather tell him to shut up… that would probably cost her a head, but if that could be avoided, Bowe would be pretty content. Life was a constant battle at home, to everyone who spent time with the king… well, except for Bowen, who had the rare talent of being able to calm his brother… once in a while, anyway. When he heard the front-door shut behind Alara, he turned to Narek, frowning.

“Really? Again?” He sighed, “what was it this time then?” he asked, letting his irritation slip into his voice. He was literally the only person who got to speak to Narek that way, and that was only because 1; Narek knew that a fight between the two of them was evenly matched at best, and 2; they’d grown up together. He wasn’t used to respect and grovelling from Bowen, and even if he asked for it, Bowen would rather die. The only reason people hadn’t banded together and thrown him over, was Bowen, because he repeatedly reminded them of honour… oh, and because he practically ran the kingdom. Narek ate, threw fits, and caused Bowe even more work. Oh, the joys of life.



Lena


As she watched Yeremy walk away from her, she almost called out a thank-you, but kept her mouth shut. He hadn’t done anything for her yet, and she couldn’t really be sure he would. Technically, he could’ve just been humouring her this entire time. She wouldn’t know, would she? Lena sighed, pulling her thin cardigan closer as she walked the last couple of steps for the front-doors of her earthly home. Speculations regarding the puzzling man could wait. Right now, as he’d said, Lena should seek out the king, tend to his needs, if he had any, and if not, she’d grab a book and join him in his chambers. Relaxing sounded really good to her right now, even though she liked to busy herself with work, she frankly required a little break. After this whole deal with Yeremy, Lena could honestly say her mind had need of air, and at this point, work wouldn’t do the trick.

Lena entered the well-known abode, smiling softly as her flats hit floors, familiar clicks and clacks emanating with her feet hurrying up the broad stairs. She could tell her king was home from the eerie silence in the place. She wondered if he was in a bad mood perhaps, or if the others simply assumed that he was. Wouldn’t be the first time. Actually Sabine was often misinterpreted by servants, guards and so forth, as he was hard to read in truth, unless you’d been around him as much, and as closely, as Lena had. She felt gratitude that he’d chosen to include her in his life the way he had, and maybe also a little proud that it had been her, and not a real demon. She was pretty confident it was merely one of Sabine’s weird quirks though. Wouldn’t be the first he did something unexpected because he decided to change things up a bit. That was why people feared him… because they never knew what to expect from their cold king.

Before she got far, however, she was stopped by a guard who wanted her to deliver a message. Lena lowered her head the second he spoke, but listened closely. Male guards where cruel, cruel beings, and she’d much rather just run along and join the king, but her ears perked at the words ‘letter’ and ‘vampires’, so she stood still until the guard grabbed her arm and whispered a little promise in her ear. She winced, knowing what ‘let’s have fun’ meant in horny-guard, and decided in that second, that she’d spend the night on the floor with the king. She had to protect herself somehow, and she’d rather deal with a little pain in her back, than the guard’s hands and other parts on and in her. She was afraid the king would rather be alone this night, however, but as the guard left with a chuckle, goosebumps spread on Lena’s soft skin.

She ignored it and kept right on walked. Couldn’t let things like that affect her so much. Hell, she should be used to it by now. She’d rather they just did it though, no creepy warning or ‘promises’ to scare her half to death. Would be so much easier to deal with that way. She didn’t want to spend hours fearing that he body would be ravaged and broken in a little while.

As Lena came to a stop in front of Sabine’s door, she knocked softly, just once, before pushing down the handle to push the door open. She closed the door behind her, turned to her kind and curtsied politely, even though it was sort of hard in this dress. She ignored the cold still prominent in her arms and legs, and smiled at her king, brown eyes pleasant as always. “Welcome home, your grace.” Simple words, but they were as they should be. Lena didn’t talk more to Sabine unless he wanted her to. If her king desired conversation, she would do that, just like she’d keep quiet if he so preferred. Her life was uncomplicated, truthfully.

Except for Yeremy’s weird outbreak. She wondered if maybe she should inform the king that his trusted adviser was not quite right anymore, but she didn’t want to out Yeremy. Besides, he did his job as he should, and that was all she could ask of him, so Lena said nothing. If things got worse, Sabine was no fool and would figure it out himself, though she hoped she was able to help Yeremy before things got that bad. Thinking of Yeremy, she started wondering where he’d run off to.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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James Dylor

The young male let the sound of the industrious humming wash over him as he looked up at Belle, watching her mix. He noted the struggle it took for her to continue churning the balm, and his head tipped slightly to one side as he added that little fact to his growing base of knowledge about the girl. Perhaps, he wondered, perhaps she was practicing to be a companion for some noble or something. Some of them, especially the older ones, needed an 'aide' of sorts not to do anything in particular, but just provide conversation and a pleasant face. Or at least, many old rich humans did that. James was semi-confident that Lykaes did too.

James almost stood up and offered to help. But from her gentle retribution of earlier he didn't think she'd accept his assistance. And when she struggled to reach the bandages the boy almost jumped up, even though he wasn't much taller than she. She turned again after she retrieved them, and James's eyes flickered over her face again. Perhaps he'd get along alright with her. Maybe it was the humming that got him, or maybe it was the fact that she was so strong despite the little shortcomings in her life. That she couldn't reach a top shelf, or stir quickly enough without growing tired swiftly. She had a sort of edge to herself, it seemed. Like she wasn't going to let those things rule her.

Nothing like him, the boy thought. he often just lay down and let other walk all over him. What else could he do? He was a servant. A puny servant at that. At least this young woman had the excuse of being a female. Even though the Lykaes weren't very kindly towards their women as a rule. Sometimes it seemed better to be a woman than a diminutive man. women were expected to be as they were. Men were expected to be....well, not like James. He did try and make up for it with diligence.

It had worked so far, thankfully.

She sat down across from him, and her words made him cast his eyes down and a rueful little smile grace his face for a few moments. he didn't respond, however. The things he was thinking were treasonous, and it wasn't a good idea to utter such things in anyone's presence. One could never be too wary. It paid off.

She continued speaking, and James did as she said, resting his hands over her little ones, palm up. "Thank you." he said again with another little smile. The thought of his hands being less ugly and beat up than they were now was warming. That someone cared enough to do this for him was warming as well. He was a servant. Servants didn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things, did they? Most seemed to think so, at least. Servants here were disposables. They didn't deserve care if they were going to die in the next decade or so, perhaps a little longer if they were lucky.

The balm one his skin was soothing. He sighed softly as she began rubbing it in, his eyes sliding shut of their own volition. That felt better than anything he'd felt in a long while. His face slackened slightly as he allowed himself to enjoy the cool feeling.

Yes, he decided, he could get along alright with this Belle, no matter what her motives were.

Sabine Marx

Green eyes flicked up as a gentle knock sounded at the door. Ah, there she was. Sabine fingered the thin paper of the page he was currently reading, his face still turned down towards the book. About one hundred pages left to the end. His eyes were slightly hooded, giving him a tired appearance. It didn't take much to give the daemon some sort of expression because his countenance was usually so barren.

He was silent for a moment after she spoke, examining her. he wanted to know where she'd been. He was particularity angry at her for being gone, but he was annoyed at himself. He couldn't put his finger on exactly why he was annoyed, but he knew it had to do with the blonde he had met earlier in the evening. it had much to do with the blonde. And perhaps the foreign emotions seething in his belly yet, mingling with the curiosity he experienced when he thought about her. The emotions, notions were easily quelled, however, and they never did manage to make it to his countenance.

She was cold. Why were all these bodies always so cold? They reacted to it so obviously too. He did experience the biting chill of the night, but rarely did it bring up gooseflesh anymore. He was plenty used to chill weather, even though he preferred the warmth of the sun. "You were outside, I'm guessing." He said in his soft purr. "Anything I should be informed of, little bird?" His voice wasn't demanding, but it did insinuate command in the finer layer beneath the easy sound.

He blinked slowly, his eyes dropping to the words on the page for a second before his slender jaw tilted up so the green pools could examine her properly. "There is a quilt in the storage closet across the hall if you so require one."

He did not speak anymore, but he knew that she'd take it as an invitation to stay and read as long as she wished. Unless he specifically instructed her to leave she was allowed to stay. He knew that the guards and staff bothered her, perhaps because she was so small and seemingly delicate. Sabine didn't overtly tell them to leave her alone, he would never do something such as that, but he did make sure that anyone who damaged her would be punished brutally, as said person had inflicted damage on something in the king's inner court, and was thus proclaimed treasonous.

It was helpful, because in that way no one could guess that Sabine was protective of his little bird. He didn't love her, was he capable of that? But he liked to see her thriving. There was something about the delicate air around her, like a porcelain doll, that intrigued him. And things that intreuged the daemon were usually kept around.

The male ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at his book again, continuing to read. He would finish the book before the sun came up, hopefully. he so liked finishing books quickly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Narek Tane Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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Annabelle


Belle smiled warmly at the slight man in front of her as he did as she’d requested. His hands were even more calloused and horny than she’d thought at first, but as he smiled and thanked her, things lit up. She had begun to think things a little useless; that with all the things having happened to this servant, she wouldn’t be able to soothe him at least a little. Soften his existence enough for him to at least feel a little joy from life. She couldn’t imagine why he’d wanted to stay alive so far. To her, he seemed weary of life, like it had taken all that it could from him and that all he had left was his ability to breathe. She could only hope that what little she could do would be enough, and this genuine, though little smile he sent her, infused her with hope. She would help him… she would, and she could. Stubbornness was a silly thing most times, but she thought sometimes that it was needed, so she’d never been ashamed of her nature. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, voice soft and gentle.

She held James’ hands gently, grateful that he kept them up a little by himself, because honestly her arms were still aching from the stirring, and his hands were about twice the size of hers or so. Granted, her hands were incredibly small, much like herself, but still. She used one hand to scoop up a nice portion of the balm, thinking that he’d need plenty going by the look of things. As she got to work, carefully rubbing the green substance into James’ right hand, focusing mostly on the worst areas, she noticed his entire stature relaxing some as his eyes closed, facial expression growing peaceful. It caused warmth to surge through her, and she felt her lips curve into a beautiful little smile, though her eyes fell back onto the work at hand. It was nice, she though as her fingers worked their subtle magic.

She could already feel James’ hands growing softer; not soft, but softer, which honestly didn’t take much, but it was a start. It was an effective healing balm, which was why it was so important to learn. If you had the time for it, it would mend any wound, scar or bruise; practical to have by your side in war, really. Perhaps James would need to have the balm applied more than once, due to the extent of his scars and patches, but that would be tomorrow’s problem. For James’ sake, Belle really hoped he didn’t have more work to do, as he so obviously needed sleep. In all honesty she was growing a little fearful that he would fall asleep as it was, because she wasn’t sure she’d want to wake him again. Not because she wished him harm, but because she could tell so easily that he needed every second of rest he could possibly acquire.

She’d find someone else to do the things not having to do directly with the king. There were other servants, and they didn’t sport even a fraction of the exhaustion James did. After a while, Belle finished rubbing the balm into James’ palm and began to slowly wind the white gauze around his hands, ensuring that the green lotion didn’t leave traces anywhere, while speeding up the healing. She only put a thin layer of bandages on the hand, as she still wanted him to be able to work. She would’ve preferred to wrap him in bandages until he couldn’t walk at all, because she was a little overly worried, even as she didn’t know him, but she was aware that he had a job to do. Besides… it was probably her neck on the line too here, even though she had a feeling Bowen would take steps to guarantee her safety.

After having repeated the same procedure with James’ left hand, carefully and intently executing her work, she smiled, satisfied. They looked good, his hands, and she couldn’t wait to see how they looked tomorrow, once he’d gotten to sleep with the balm, giving it proper time to work. Though she’d finished, however, Belle didn’t want to leave. She found she enjoyed the quiet presence of the boy, proving so different from the high nobles she usually surrounded herself with, so instead, Belle gently placed the darkhaired boys hands in his lap, smiling softly. “James,” she then began, a little careful, as she didn’t want to scare him away, yet found herself curious as to the life he lived, and the one he’d lived before this job came to consume it, “can I… ask you a question?” It felt a little odd, asking whether a servant anything. She wasn’t usually allowed much interaction with them, as it was ‘beneath her’. Belle was coming to regret that though.


Lena


As Sabine’s gaze fell on Lena, the little girl’s eyes couldn’t help but avoid his vigilant ones. Sometimes the king picked up on things she didn’t wish him to pick up on… like how she acted right after another rape, or how she spoke when most of her clothes-covered body was swollen with bruises. She probably had some tell-tale signs for him to notice, and after so many years she supposed it was only natural that he could read her just like she could him, but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable, because he often demanded of her to know who had done it, but she hated telling him. She always told, because he was her king, and he held her unbending loyalty, but Lena knew she was making her situation with the others gradually worse, if possible, with everything the king found out.

As he spoke, she could tell by his voice that he wasn’t pleased. Okay, so she’d been right about judging the silence as a sign of the king’s unhappiness, the thing was, however, that she wasn’t quite sure whether he was angry with her, or with someone, maybe something, else. She could read his moods, yes, but never thoughts. Not ever. She was certain something was on Sabine’s mind, though, but decided she might inquire about that later. Right now, she had some explaining to do. She was the king’s servant. She was supposed to be home when he was, and she couldn’t tell how long he’d been at the mansion. Lena glanced back up at her master, just about to reply when he spoke once more, caring for her in whatever way Sabine knew how. She was also aware that he was indirectly telling her she was allowed to stay with him until he no longer required her presence.

She smiled softly at her king, though his eyes had once more reverted to the book in his hands. She still had to answer him though, even as he didn’t appear interested in her answer, Lena knew Sabine never asked anything he did not want the answer for. So she spoke, soft and gentle voice, soothing in its tone, as always when she was around her king. “Lord Yeremy required my presence outside for a short while, your grace. I greatly apologize for my absence.” Again, simple words, but the king would ask her more if needed, when she returned with a quilt and a book for herself. She curtsied, adding a soft, “I will take but short moments,” and hurried out the door, careful to not make sound as her feet quietly moved down the hall, seeking the well-known storage closet. She would have preferred the blankets in her room, but always did as the king asked of her.

She soundlessly moved to her room, close to Sabine’s bedroom, walked inside and located the book she was in the process of reading. She had taken an interest in human medicine lately. Not because she needed to know it for anything, but because she adored learning new things. The book was quite heavy, but that wasn’t an issue, to book in hand, quilt over her arm, Lena made her way back to the king, again a soft knock before entering. It let Sabine know it was her, as she knew he recognized her knocks, and was able to tell them from any others. She sat down next to the door, wrapping the quilt around her, not quite able to quench the soft moan of bliss from her lips, as warmth surrounded her. Her brown eyes found her king once more, golden flecks standing out in this particular light. She had placed the book in her lap and was now contemplating whether to wait for the king to speak, or to merely ask for permission immediately.

She did have that message for him… the one the guard had been too afraid of the king to deliver, so though it wasn’t all that urgent, she knew it was enough of a reason for her to speak up. “May I speak, your grace?” She asked the question casually, though still softly, but she never asked to speak unless she had a particular message for him. Besides… maybe it would make him forget all about that fact that his adviser had taken his servant outside in the night. She didn’t expect it to, but one could certainly hope.

Bowen


Bowe sighed, but didn’t speak as Narek’s words filled the room, after another violent fit, of course. Instead he followed his brother out of the police station, shaking his head slightly at him. Sometimes Bowen really felt like he needed a vacation. Narek was hard work; he really shouldn’t spend time in the human world, it was much too gentle for him. He couldn’t adjust, and even if he could, he certainly didn’t want to. He expected everyone here to just fall all over themselves for him, without him doing anything for it – just like back home. Narek had never had to work for anything in this entire life, which was a little scary, considering his quite substantial age, so he was used to just getting whatever he wanted and got angry whenever people didn’t bend to his will immediately. Really, Bowen sometimes wondered how Narek would’ve been under different circumstances.

After a little while of walked, the two brothers next to eachother, Bowen glanced at the sky before looking back on his brother. “You shouldn’t go out in public, you know. At some point I can’t keep you out of jail anymore, and then what will happen? We won’t have a king, and you know lykaes… we need a leader, or everything crumbles. Everything we’ve worked for in millenniums will go to waste. Either that, or you start taking in interest in learning to control your blasted temper. What do you expect people to do, when someone proclaims himself king of a species the human world believes belongs in books and TVs?” He was absolutely exhausted with his brother, if he had to be perfectly honest right now. He so needed to find himself a woman when they got home.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Yeremy Markovich Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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James Dylor

James wavered for a little while on the verge of sleep, never completely falling from the cliff, but not exactly on the solid ground either. The constant movement of Belle rubbing the balm into his skin was most likely what kept him in his mind. The feeling was nondescript but nonetheless it was comforting, in a way. And it brought relief to his perpetually aching hands. He started slightly, jumping back into a more alert form, when she started binding his hand with care and precision. The left hand didn't drop him as far into his tired blankness, but he still drifted slightly until she finished. He flexed his fingers slightly. It felt odd to have his hands wrapped. They felt better, and he knew that they helped, but he sort of just wanted to shake his hands until the gauze came off.

He figured that doing that wouldn't end to well for him. he'd probably earn another scolding from Belle, and his hands wouldn't heal any. He couldn't help the instinct though, jerking away from foreign feelings. He had enough self restraint to keep still though. He was skilled at keeping still. He opened his eyes and examined her face again as she gently placed his hands in his lap as if posing a doll.

She had an almost pensive look on her face as she spoke again, just his name at first. The words escaped her mouth slowly, which made him wonder if something was wrong. But no, she just had a question. She spoke as if she was trying to avoid something, however. Like he'd run if she said the wrong said or asked in too demanding a manner.

"Whatever you wish." He said, a slight lilt of a curiosity he wasn't going to pursue. What did she want to know? His hands worried each other slightly, but not enough to rub off the wrappings. He didn't really mind her asking him anything, there wasn't anything in his life that was very personal anymore, and everything that happened in his early youth, on earth, was history, past that he had no shame in recounting. For the most part. It sometimes left him feeling a little blank, not having much of a self... an identity, he had to throw himself fully into his servant life or he'd lose his life.

Ironic, wasn't it.




Sabine Marx

Lena. With Yeremy? Sabine was quite aware of the two's silly little rivalry, he never made any move to stop it, however. Sabine wondered vaguely just exactly what they had been doing outside, Lena did not seem to be particular annoyed under that demure layer she always seemed display in his presence. She did seem pensive though, and slightly ruffled. A few analytical thoughts passed Sabine's mind, but he continued to read at the same time, deciding that he'd pursue that path at a later date.

His eyes jumped to her for a few brief seconds when she reentered the room with a book cradled in her arm and a quilt over her shoulder. She settled down with a sound of appreciative pleasure, and green eyes flashed up for a second, as they always did when she made a sound. How long had she stayed outside?

The moment he looked back down he sensed an air of hesitance from the girl. She wanted to say something. He didn't look up, but he did pause in his reading, waiting for her to speak. It was good for her to speak up sometimes, make decisions on her own. Not all the time, but enough to keep her on her toes. Like little mind exercises, Sabine liked to think. He enjoyed little games such as that, he always had and he probably always would. Mind games. He used them on his servants as well, as punishments for not doing things properly. Coldly inflicted, they had the potential to properly put the individual into his place without Sabine having to expend much physical effort.

"You may speak." he said in response to her request. What kind of information would he have to deal with now? She usually had messages for him when she requested to speak. it was obviously not urgent, however, because she'd already dallied so long before telling him.

Suddenly, just after the words left his lips, a soft rap sounded on the door. Sabine ran a hand through his hair after motioning for Lena to pause for a moment. "You may enter." He said, just loud enough for Yeremy to hear. His eyes studied the other's face quickly, and he shut his book, using a single slender finger to keep his spot.

"I shall hear you in a moment, Yeremy, Lena has a message for me as well." Sabine said, his eyes flicking back to Lena. "You may speak, little bird." He told her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Yeremy Markovich Character Portrait: Narek Tane Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth Character Portrait: Bowen Tane
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#, as written by Mela
Annabelle


The blonde girl smiled slightly at James’s reply. The fact that he’d said it the way he had, implied that he was beginning to feel more comfortable with her, yet she had not expected any rude words to come from his mouth. Or, well, not exactly rude, but he wasn’t being welcoming either, which made her want to go back to not asking him the question, but now that she had said A, she had to say B too. No way back. She was just about to ask her question when she spotted him beginning to fret about with his hands and paused to send him a slightly reprimanding, though lenient look, laughing softly. She didn’t mention it, though. If they were bothering him, that was that, nothing she could do about it. Wouldn’t keep her from trying again the next day, however. That was just the kind of person she was; helpful to the point of choking people. Well, sometimes… unless she didn’t like them of course.

“I was just wondering,” she started, glancing at the windows, noting the dark of the night, before she looked back at him, “do you ever wish that your life was different? Why did you come here in the first place, I mean… why did you take up service with the king? Everyone knows of his temper.” She almost kicked herself, bothered at the phrasings. She was supposed to seem his equal, not a peasant. She had been taught to speak proper and here she was, stuttering like some halfwit. She threw her annoyance to the back of her mind, however, knowing that it would not serve to let it show. Besides, it wasn’t James’ fault that she’d somehow begun to make knots with her tongue. Furthermore, she couldn’t really explain to him why she was aggravated without seeming like the noble snob she actually was. Eh, snob… such a terrible word, wasn’t it? Well, that was her. That was Annabelle of Quarth, the Captain’s youngest daughter, except she didn’t want to be that girl.

Belle smiled at James once more, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes this time; she was preoccupied by thoughts of the person she wanted to be, and the person she was supposed to be… along with who she really was. It was all one big mess to her, and sometimes she preferred to sit for hours by herself, pondering her life and her choices – whatever few she had. There were many problems associated with being who she was, so many things she had to live up to, yet she didn’t wish to compromise her own happiness in the process. A subtle balance, is what is was, and though she was over a century old, Belle still had quite the difficulties when it came to those things. How did humans ever manage to figure out their lives in such short spans?

The thing about James though, was that he inspired her in some ways, and in others she felt she had things to teach him. It seemed her had forgotten that there were joys to life. True, he had a sparse amount of freetime, but the fact of the matter was that work didn’t have to be such a bad thing, not really. It was like he’d… hidden parts of himself, leaving only a fairly empty shell. Belle wanted so badly to fill it again, to blow some semblance of a life back into him, or he’d end up killing himself by the end of his current century. No one could go through life like he did now. Maybe that was what worried Bowe too.



Lena


As the king’s green eyes found her once more, Lena’s innocent brown ones glanced at the door. She could vaguely hear steps in the hall, and no one entered the king’s wing without having business with said demon, so she had a feeling she would not have the chance to speak without anyone else in their presence. Though Sabine cared for her compared to how he treated everyone else, he still did not take any steps towards making her mentally comfortable. He very well knew that Lena hated to speak with him while others around, but he’d never cared about that, not that she was surprised. Sabine was who Sabine was and she’d never sought to picture him as anything else. She was merely grateful he did not take out his cruelty directly on her like many others did. Not physically anyway, and honestly he wasn’t that bad with her mentally either. She liked to think he didn’t want her changed or more broken that she already was.

Lena had, in fact, had a little more voice when she’d first arrived at the castle, not as Sabine’s personal servant of course, but a meager little girl who did the dishes. Then her virginity had been robbed from her and she’d had to get past that, not able to speak of it. It had taken its toll, forced her to harden herself, as much as the soft, darkhaired girl could. Ever since, Lena had been quiet, a little mouse in the shadows, cowing at every turn. Well, until the king had taken an interest in her. At first she had been afraid that he would take her to his bed, as so many had, but Sabine had never made such moves, which in itself was a gift. Actually, Lena couldn’t remember the last time the king had taken any woman, in truth. She knew he much preferred quiet and books – mental exercises, a lot like her, she thought. Maybe that was why he accepted her so, but she could only guess.

She soon found that she had been right about the steps headed towards the king’s chambers, because just as Sabine’s voice formed words allowing her to speak, knocking sounded at the door. The little servant sighed softly to hear Yeremy’s voice follow the sound. She had seen enough of him tonight, and would much rather have a bit of quiet to gather herself and piece the little puzzles together. Maybe they’d make up a pretty picture then, but she doubted it. Lene glanced at Sabine, awaiting his next words. She assumed he would let her speak before Yeremy, even though Yeremy was technically higher than her in rank. She had never understood why he did that – maybe merely to banter Yeremy a little, get a reaction from him. Whatever the reason, it should not be so according to every book she’d ever read on etiquette, but hey, who was she to correct the king?

The king made a gesture towards her, silently commanding her to wait, which she would have done automatically. She had been around Sabine too long for her not to know what to do in certain situations. She assumed he knew that, but merely wanted to make sure… or maybe he hadn’t really thought of to whom he was giving orders. The other servants had no feelings for situations like so, she knew. Perhaps she had been away from him for too long and he’d had to grow annoyed with someone else? She supposed it mattered little though. Lena then watched Yeremy open the door, handsome face peering inside after Sabine had given permission. No other than her was allowed to step in without one – a privilege she adored. She smiled vaguely to have her suspicions confirmed, the familiar green eyes landing on her once more as Sabine informed them both that Lena was to speak first.

He had used the usual nickname for her, little bird. She had never quite figured out whether it was an endearment or a degrading statement. Perhaps both. It would be like Sabine to have several motives even for the little things he said and did. Curious creature he was indeed. She didn’t think she’d ever grow bored trying to figure out why he did as he did. She pulled her quilt closer, brown eyes flickering across Yeremy’s face before ending up looking into her master’s green ones, a slight smile adorning her features. “A note came from a spy about an hour ago. Of course your grace should have been informed of this sooner, and I apologize for not being here to bring it to you.” She said, well-knowing of the fact that bringing messages wasn’t her job. It was something she did as a favor to the others (even though they didn’t deserve it) as they were so frightened of the great king. In truth, it should be brought by a guard or another servant, if she was not available.

Apparently they’d chosen to wait instead, which she honestly thought a tad foolhardy. Lena always took the blame, though – or attempted to. The king had this awful tendency to know when she was merely playing sacrificial lamb… again. She offered yet another slight smile, and then continued, “however, I assure you the message is of no hasty quality tonight.” She glanced at the door, wishing Yeremy would leave again. He might feel comfortable enough talking freely with her, but she did not with him. A soft sigh escaped her full lips as her gaze ones more found the king.

“Apparently high born women of the vampire king’s court have begun to disappear. This evening a letter arrived at his castle in Cruorem Orbis, stating that you, your grace, was the abductor in an attempt to turn the males of the court against him. However, the vampire king will not return home until morning, as is their custom, and neither will his adviser, so naught will be done about it until then as none of them are aware of the letter’s existence as of yet.” A lot of words, yes, and she really did despise having to say them with Yeremy there. Around everyone but the king, Lena was cautious and spoke very little. She thought about the situation, though, aware that it was not the first time a thing like that had happened; little ‘misunderstandings’ leading to war. Someone was playing a clever game, but no one could figure out who.

Playing on the women was the right move with vampires; there, women were cherished and valued. The men loved their women, much more passionately than human were able. It was a shame demons did not posses such strong emotions. It would’ve been nice. The issue was that though everyone was aware of the games, no one was willing to talk things out. Every race hated the two others with a passion unmatched, and creatures such as Lykaes had this thing where they just rushed off into war and violence – probably had something to do with their impulsive king, Narek Tane. She’d heard that his brother and adviser, Bowen Tane, should have a clever mind though, but rumors were but rumors, and they were so rarely true.



Bowen


The Lykae adviser remained expressionless as he listened to his brother, growing aggravated as well as quite weary. The king, no matter what Bowen said or did, would not see reason. Thankfully, he was able to grasp the fact that him going around hurting innocent was bad here and was agreeing to cut down, but he was still being stubborn. Avenge him, would they? Break out of jail, would he? Well that was just great, except they risked discovery! But what could Bowen do? He had tried so many times to talk sense into his brother’s thick skull, but was unable to break though. If this kept up for many more centuries, Bowen was sure he would give up. But then again, after about 3000 years with this one, who wouldn’t? Bowen had the faint idea of strangling his dear brother, just to shut him up… keep the stubborn, proud words from exiting his mouth, but pushed it away again.

One more time…

“Narek,” Bowen said, sending his brother a ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ look reserved only for him, “what do you think will happen if you break out of jail, or if a horde of maddened Lykaes burst into the city, tearing everything, and everyone apart? Did you ever stop to think that we might have a problem staying on earth if you out us? We need earth, you know. We need a safeplace. Going here is like going on vacation from the war. This is the only place we can talk business, whenever the other races are compliable as well. Another thing; I did not say that it was unwise for you to enter the human world, merely for you to go out. Alcohol goes in and whatever little pieces of brain you have, go numb.” He was being harsh, yes, and he only said the words because no one else of their kin was near. Narek’s pride would not be able to take it if someone heard him being scolded by his little brother.

“And I don’t want to ‘stop you from being king’, Narek. I want you to act as the king you supposedly are instead of a spoiled teenager. Those years are long gone, brother. You have an entire race of people to take care of. You have to protect them, and not merely care whether or not some human says boo at the wrong time. They are unimportant; cattle, prey to vampires, they’re expendable. Their opinions and actions hold no meaning, but yours do, and I want you to stop and think about that before you decide to tear someone’s throat out next time.” He was ranting, but it felt good, even as fatigue and resigned indifference settled over his features, “ah… why the hell am I even trying?” he finished, “it won’t help any.”

And with those words, the two royalties had reached their human mansion. Bowen cast his brother a dark look before opening the door and walking inside. He did not care to hold the door for his brother – Bowen was no servant and after this night, Narek deserved to do something by himself instead of having everyone else do his dirty work all the time.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lena of Anguaren Character Portrait: Sabine Marx Character Portrait: Yeremy Markovich Character Portrait: James Dylor Character Portrait: Annabelle of Quarth
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James Dylor

the boy's vivid eyes flickered across the young woman's face. Teeth caught his lip as he thought of an appropriate answer. Certain wordings would be...treasonous. But he couldn't lie; James tried not to lie unless it was absolutely necessary. His face flickered with mild trepidation for little under a second. "I was...compelled to work by my father after my human mother died. I was all together too human for his tastes." He said softly, only trace amounts of anger in his voice. He'd long since mastered that feeling, only the ghost pains of it remained in most situations. "He hoped I'd become...different, but was sorely disappointed." Instead of worrying the bindings on his hands, James switched to pulling at his fingers until the bones clacked and popped against one another. "I don't mind this life though. Wishing for something else wouldn't make this any easier. Just living one day at a time makes it tolerable." The slight shoulders shrugged slightly, and the bright blue gaze averted itself, dropping to the floor.

Words came with difficulty sometimes, they weighed different amounts when they were strung in different orders. Belle's words, for example, had tugged her voice in and out of every wave on the surf, pausing, stumbling, doubling back. His own words dragged against the bottom of the ocean, steady but monotone, in a way. Sure there was inflection, but behind the regular fluctuation of sound in his syntax there was nothing. He could be a happy boy, he was a happy boy, but he lacked luster. He hadn't always.

It wasn't because he was different, he didn't think. It was because he had a will to live, but at the same time he was willing to give up life to continue existing in his body. Two very different concepts. It made his life simple though. He threw himself into what he did, did it well, and didn't think while he was doing it. Thinking, feeling made things complicated. He didn't need complicated. The king was not complicated, difficult to understand, he issued simple orders and required simple things. Which meant that James didn't have to use any cognitive processes to grasp what was needed to perform his job. And often times that translated into his every waking moment, that little defense mechanism. Simple. Thinking too hard or too long could end up in his death if he dallied too long. Efficiency equated to mindlessness in this case.

At the tail end of James's words, a flock of servants exploded into the kitchen, anxious expressions on their faces. The king was home, evidently, and he required food, obviously. James looked a them for a second, blinking once, and then stood up, intent on helping.




Sabine Marx

As Lena began to speak, Sabine's eyes examined his adviser. He'd noted how the male's eyes had stuck to Lena for a moment after he stepped into the room, and the daemon couldn't decide whether it was because he was surprised at her presence or because something had happened between the two of them. "You are forgiven." He said, his gaze wandering back in her direction, a slight gash of a frown curving his face. Who's fault was this? His little bird was playing the scapegoat again. The staff really didn't realize how lucky they had it. Lena, as she never blamed anyone else for transgressions, rather, she often took the blame for herself, which made it very difficult to find the transgressor so he could punish the individual properly. Sabine wasn't one to punish all his servants if only one had done wrong. Doing that wasn't precise. And finding the individual focused his annoyance much better and therefore made the punishment all the more effective.

Her discomfort was made obvious when she glanced at the door. She did not like speaking when there were others in the room, which Sabine was trying to force her to get over slowly without pushing her too hard. He would make a stronger girl out of her though, slowly. She was making progress, she was a little bird now, not a little mouse. His goal for the game was to make her a desert flower, strong and hardy yet delicate and beautiful all at once. It took patience. Lucky for her the tall blonde was willing to expend his patience on her. She was one of the lucky recipients. One of the only recipients.

Her message set his mind in motion. He propped his head up with two delicate fingers, one on his cheekbone and the other on his temple, his eyes darkening slightly. Who was playing this game? Were the Lykae smart enough to sabotage in this way? Or was their some kind of plot within the vampire nest? The vampires were surely more intelligent than the pack of Lykae, but he couldn't rule them out. And was it entirely a bad thing? he could warp the entire game if he wanted to, claim to have the women and demand some type of ransom. It would be all of the fun with less maintenance. Then he could create some fabrication setting the blame on the Lykae, and while the vampires were scrambling madly to get their precious creatures back he could swipe their legs out from under them.

Of course, speculating a chess move is much different than carrying it out. Sabine decided that he wanted to hear whatever Yeremy had to say before making a decision. Perhaps another flower of an idea would blossom with an even more amusing plot. Or it would become clear who the transgressor was.

Sabine rubbed his jaw, his eyes flicking back to his adviser. "Thank you, flower." He said to Lena, his voice sounding a bit far off, as if he was still lost in his mind, working out all his different options. "Yeremy, you may speak." He said. His own unorthodoxy amused him. Well, he'd had to let Lena go first if she was ever going to get used to talking in front of people. Not only that, but Sabine did want to know what had gone on between the two of them, and he was going to pursue it until he found out in his quiet precise manner.