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Emilian Silivasi

"You say thieving tramp like it's a bad thing."

0 · 360 views · located in Earth

a character in “Shadow Hearts: Blood Ties”, as played by ~Evil Cream Puff~

Description

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Name: Emilian Silivasi

Race: Human

Age: Unknown. Appears to be in his early twenties.

Gender: Male

Homeland: Romania

Appearance: Emilian stands among most men at an even 5'10". His broad-shouldered frame is contrasted by his meager waist and long limbs, which gives him a rather lithe appearance overall. His skin, though somewhat weathered, retains a healthy hue. His eyes are a dark, forest green traced by thick eyelashes and set into a rounded brow. Emilan's cheekbones, nose and chin are chiseled yet still rather soft, showing both his youth and his rough upbringing. The young man could consider himself handsome, if he cared about such things. Framing his face are thick locks of hair the color of a murky lake. Emilian cannot remember the last time he has cut his hair and thus, it falls just past his hips. Emilian's hair is his favorite part about his appearance. It is his security blanket. The rest of the young man's body is remarkably average; neither muscular nor scrawny.

Personality: A young lifetime of independence has caused Emilian to view the world with a survivalist sense. He isn't above lying, cheating, or stealing in order to get by in life. He is cunning, resourceful, and energetic. Emilian isn't all-too eager to trust strangers, but often finds himself drawn to new, interesting people. His sense of humor is also still intact, despite living in a world that has no love for the unwanted. Often sarcastic and dry, his tongue gets him into and out of trouble with ease.
Emilian is also known to possess a very sentimental side. He is naturally empathetic, though it appears he harshly chooses who is worthy of his sincerity. The young man's caring qualities are often overshadowed by the dark cloud of self-pity that follows him around. Emilian is prone to frustration and hurt, and can hold a grudge longer than anyone he knows.

Talents/Skills: Although it is unknown whether it came naturally or he learned well, Emilian can be highly charismatic when he chooses to be - a skill that goes a long way with his people. He is also rather flexible and fancies himself a decent dancer and singer, though those who know him best may not agree with the latter.

Weaknesses/Vices: Emilian finds it difficult to allow himself to open up and connect with people on a deep, emotional level. Meeting new people often causes him to fall into his old habits of putting on a fake smile and laying on the charm. On a more physical level, he succumbs easily to temptation be it greed, lust, or gluttony.

Likes/Dislikes: Emilian likes to sleep, often doing so in odd places. Perhaps because he has been conditioned to sleep lightly, the young man often appears tired no matter how much rest he seems to get. His greatest dislike would be people. More specifically, people who are selfish, narrow minded, cruel, wealthy, and judgemental. Aristocrats and those of noble upbringing seem to extract the worst from Emilian's complex mind.

Equipment: The life of a gypsy has taught Emilian two things: to take everything you need with you, and to travel light. As such, he keeps what little belongings he has on him at all times, and very much dislikes holding on to things that don't have an apparent use. His must-haves are his cloak - a warm and durable gift from his tribe, and a decorative knife he saved up for for weeks and purchased as a child.

Background Story: Emilian was born into a traveling Romani Gypsy tribe. The second of three children, he grew up hard in a world that didn't always take kindly to his sort. From an early age, Emilian was taught skills that would serve him well as part of a traveling caravan that often made stops all across Europe. The young man would do whatever he could to earn money; performing in front of crowds, seducing the locals, bareknuckle fighting, even pseudo fortune telling. Although it didn't remain a mere parlor trick for long.
Upon reaching puberty, Emilian was found to possess empathetic abilities. His dreams were filled with glimpses of the future. Soon enough, these glimpses showed themselves to him during his waking hours. Some blurred and vague, others so real it was like he was living it. Most were of little consequence; a vision of the morrow's weather or a preview of where his caravan would soon arrive. Other visions, however, contained frightening images that chilled the young man to the bone. Images of disease, disaster, and misfortune. Emilian learned to cope with these visions as best he could, and the other members of his tribe regarded him with equal parts respect and disdain. Some claimed him to be a prophet, while others swore he was touched by the Devil. Unsure of what the truth was, Emilian shrugged it off as best he could.
One day, while his caravan was camping near the Transylvanian hamlet of Bistritz, Emilian's senses were overtaken by another vision, this one more sinister and foreboding than anything else he had experienced before. With his mind's eye, he witnessed a storm brewing over tumultuous seas. From the depths, a great power was drawn up. Images flashed before Emilian's mind; a grotesque monument in the sky, an alien life form, the sound of both screams and laughter, and finally, golden eyes opening in the darkness of an abyss. Just as quickly as the vision had accosted him, it was gone. Catching his breath, Emilian wiped sweat from his brow. Something was happening. Something he couldn't begin to understand. The image of those eyes still fresh in his mind, the young man turned his gaze upward, above the line of gnarled trees that sheltered his tribe. There, he could just barely make out the dusty blue stonework of an ancient castle.


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So begins...

Emilian Silivasi's Story

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Dusk had settled across the castle, staining the hallways and chambers with stripes of firey orange light. Casting a glow about the red plush carpets and ancient wall tapestries, it created a strange sense of both comfort and unease. Emilian noticed none of this, however, as he skulked up the cold, stone staircase of the castle.

Blue Castle. That's what the locals had called it. Those ignorant, overly suspicious fools. After noticing the time-worn spires rising above the distant line of trees that surrounded Bistritz, he'd asked around. The answer, or lack thereof, had surprised him.

Emilian's caravan had been in the area for a little over a week now. They'd set up camp just a mile outside of the tiny hamlet. Gypsies. Thieves, heathens, whoremongers. His people had other names as well, but as they say, a rose by any other name still smells as sweet. At least the people in this town had the decency to treat him like a fellow human. A poor, begging, disease-ridden human, but human nonetheless. Better than he could say about many other towns he'd been to.

Most of the adults didn't give him the time of day. They were cordial enough so that Emilian didn't have a proper reason to hate them. But the children. The children weren't so judgemental, weren't completely baptized in their parents' racism yet. And so, he'd spent time with the children. Or child, he should say. One child. A girl; Nina. She knew what he was. She knew of Emilian's kind and yet she did not judge him. Smart child. Emilian liked her. The two of them seemed like an unusual pair, but talking to the girl seemed to be so easy for him. He'd learned that Nina had just recently lost her father and that she and her mother ran a small sundries shop in town to make ends meet. Such a strong willed child.

It was a clear afternoon on the day Emilian had asked Nina about the castle looming in the distance. What was it, and why did everyone else in town act as if it didn't exist? How could they, Emilian wondered, when the large structure blocked out the sun every evening?

Nina had told him it was known as Blue Castle. That the townsfolk believed it to be haunted. She'd never been inside but one evening she had wandered into the forest and soon found herself cornered by a pack of wolves. The girl's eyes twinkled as she told him her story. Apparently, a tall man appeared from inside the castle and saved her life. Then, he took her hand and escorted her safely back home, singing to her softly. It was an odd story indeed, but something about the girl's conviction told him it was based in truth.

Emilian had heard the castle was long abandoned, contrary to Nina's story. Regardless of whether or not the place was occupied, he had a plan. A castle in the middle of nowhere? That may or may not have zero inhabitants? Sounded much too easy to him. But easy didn't come often, especially to a gypsy, so Emilian would take the chance gladly. That night, when the sun began to set, the young man would break into the castle and loot anything of value that he could find.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It appeared the place truly was abandoned. Emilian hadn't seen any trace of recent life in the castle. A thick layer of dust blanketed each room like a light snowfall. Despite the castle being empty, it was beautifully furnished. Most of the decorations and fixtures were still intact; a crystal chandelier, paintings that appeared to be from the Renaissance period, plush furniture and more. Easily worth an incredible fortune. Backwater townspeople could be so foolish.

"Haunted...heh." Emilian scoffed to himself, his stomach fluttering with greedy delight.

This place was a dead zone. Not even his refined senses could pick up any trace of life. Although every now and then the young thief felt as if a pair of eyes were upon him, he'd chalked it up to nerves. After all, the castle was rather eerie.

Grabbing a silver candelabra from a nearby table, he stuffed it into a large canvas bag. Next went an expensive looking hand mirror. Then a small painting. Then a ruby studded bracelet. With the former parlor looking quite bare, Emilian shouldered the now heavy bag and left the room. Back into the foyer, the gypsy once again felt the unsettling sensation of being watched. His eyes darted about the large room in an attempt to find the source...but came up with nothing. What his eyes did find, however, was a large stone door on the opposite end of the hall. Feeling drawn to the room somehow, he decided to go there next.

The large, ornate stone door appeared far too heavy to be moved by any normal person, but with just a light touch, it slid open slowly with a low and awful crrrrreeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaak that made Emilian's breath catch in his throat. Swallowing hard, he slipped inside the dark chamber. A narrow staircase led down. With each echoing step, the young man's heart beat faster. Was he really afraid? Of what? There was nothing to fear in this place! It was just an abandoned castle that some idiot people decided was haunted. What could there possibly be in here that could be so frightening? Reaching the bottom step, Emilian surveyed the room and quickly found a potential answer.

Coffins. Stone coffins lined the wall on either side of the room. Emilian's eyes grew wide, if but for a moment.

'Relax, jeez! They're just coffins! This is probably the family crypt.'

He reasoned with himself in an attempt to calm down. Slowly stepping into the middle of the room, his narrowed gaze trailed over the coffins. Moonlight now pouring in from the windows painted them in a pale blue. The room was suffocatingly silent, the only noise was the light ringing in Emilian's ears. Carefully, he surveyed his surroundings.

It appeared that each one had a name engraved on it; Abel...Edgar...Hilda...Leon...Steven...Each coffin sealed up tightly, which made Emilian breathe a little easier. At the end of the line, however, he stopped cold, holdng his breath.

Two coffins lay with their covers removed halfway. A pained closer look revealed only the red satin lining. The young man's eyes ran over the two engravings, his racing mind barely having time to process the names; Keith and Vayne.

When the gypsy's head finally caught up with his feet, he was back in the foyer, still holding his full canvas bag with a trembling hand. How something as simple as this could frighten him so was beyond Emilian's throught right now. Once he was back safe inside his caravan he would scold himself for being such a coward. But for now, he needed to leave. Footsteps sounding loudly in the vast expanse of the room, he outstretched his other hand, prepared to push open the door and rid himself of this strange place forever...

The setting changes from Earth to Blue Castle

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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Not wanting to spend another moment alone in the eerie castle, Emilian pushed on the large wooden door that led outside - and felt his heart sink when his force was met with resistance. A loud bang followed by a duller thump. The gypsy caught sight of something through the crack in the door.

'A woman?'

Stepping futher outside, his gaze was immediately drawn to the crumpled form at his feet. Gold eyes filled with rage stared up at him. Without fully comprehending the matter at hand, Emilian's mouth was already moving.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?"

His hands instinctively clenched the canvas bag tighter. Emilian did not notice this.

She was beautiful. Dressed in black from head to toe, with matching hair that reminded the young man of a polished piece of onyx one of his elders wore around his neck. The woman's skin was pale, giving off an unearthly glow in the bright moonlight. Contrasting this even more strongly were her painted lips. Red if Emilian had ever truly seen the color before. What else caught his eye were the trace of a few red droplets on the woman's chin. Blood? Probably from when he'd hit her with the door.

The door.

That's right! She was probably connected to the castle! Just his luck! He needed to escape. He needed to get away. Lose her in the forest and then get back to the caravan. The elders would scold him again for getting caught. They would have to leave sooner now because of this. Somehow lost in thought at a time like this, Emilian snapped back to reality in an instant. That was all in the near future...hopefully. For now, time was up. He needed to get himself out of here.

The gypsy was beginning to feel his heart race with the first few bittersweet tastes of adrenaline. His eyes narrowed and flashed with an almost animalistic instinct. Hoisting the canvas bag high up on his shoulder, Emilian turned to run.

The setting changes from Blue Castle to Earth

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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Vayne was angered beyond her comprehension. But not at the young boy that barreled through the door to Castle Blue, but at herself for being caught off-guard like this. Centuries ago, Vayne would have simply back-rolled to her feet and viciously attacked this intruder to her family's home. But now, she was simply a young woman, knocked to the ground, and admittedly scared of the world around her.

The boy's grip around the large bad around his shoulder tightened, and Vayne knew what he was doing: looting. Vayne had use for this boy though, so she was prepared to forgive this indescretion. Vayne needed to know when she was, and what happened to her family. As she looked up, the boy began to yell at her.
Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?


Not bothering to wait for a response, the boy turned sharply and ran as fast as he could into the woods. Now Vayne needed to get to this boy. Not only did he have information she needed, but now he's seen her, and she did not want rumors of there being activity in Castle Blue, or more looters and excorcists could arrive.

Vayne took off after the boy. He ran surprisingly fast for a human, and Vayne hated chasing prey. There was one other problem that past through Vayne's mind: she needed to keep the boy away from the corpse she just drained. By the similarity in clothing and the fact that the man was following this boy, they probably know each other. If the boy discovers the body, then Vayne would have to kill him most likely, and she didn't want to have to find another human to interrogate.

Bounding forward, and slowly closing the gap, she realized the boy was smarter than he looked. Instead of running directly to his destination as to lead her there, he was circling and trying to lose her in the forest. Vayne hated games unless she was the one making the rules, so now this game of cat and mouse was going to come to a close. Vayne vaulted up into the nearest tree, and took after the boy, nimbly jumping from branch to branch.

They were beginning to come dangerously close to the body, and Vayne knew she had little time. She now had the boy directly in her sights. Vayne withdrew the dagger from the back of her bodice, and threw it full force at the boy. It stabbed into the ground at the boys feet, and it slowed him just long enough for Vayne to jump down onto the back of the boy.

Vayne again was surprised as instead of having a weak and feeble prey around her arms, the boy rolled forward once her hands reach the back of his neck, and his foot met her gut. Vayne flipped forward, landing on her feet, and the boy sprang up.

Now they were both deadlocked. Eyes of green and gold set on one another. Vayne entered a relax stance, smirked, and asked, “So what's your name, kid?”

The setting changes from Earth to Bistritz

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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His fine-tuned body was moving. His legs giving out from under the sudden weight, he was falling. Curling into himself, he rolled and kicked the thing that had just jumped onto his back. Years of bare-knuckle fighting had sharpened his instincts perhaps even more than it had hardened his body. But Emilian's brain was in a sort of clumsy overdrive, floundering about as he tried to make sense of the situation.

'What could have...?'

The woman. To his horror, it was the same female he'd knocked to the ground just moments before. She had caught up to him, and somehow jumped down upon him from the branches overhead.

Feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, Emilian knew that she was more than just an ordinary woman. His trembling green eyes stole sporadic glances at her form. The woman could actually be considered quite beautiful. Her hair was impossibly dark, falling in strands across her face. That face. Pale and feminine without so much as a blemish. She looked as if she had just stepped out from an oil painting. It wasn't until she spoke that he knew fear.

"So what's your name, kid?"

Her teeth. No...not teeth. They were sharp. Pointed like an animal's. Razors that shone pearl in the moonlight. Her dark lips still stained with blood were now upturned in an unsettling smirk.

'Not seeing this...'

Emilian suddenly became aware of his body. At some point he had dropped the bag of loot from the castle, replacing it with the dagger he kept at his belt. It was held tightly in a reverse grip, more defensively than anything.

It was then that he'd finally processed her words.

'My name?'

She looked at him like a toy. Her golden eyes passed over him with a curious belittlement that sent a shiver through his core. She wanted to know his name? She'd just pounced on him from wherever and she wanted to know his name!?

"You gotta be kidding me!"

With that, he scooped up the bag, the contents inside rattling together, and ran again - this time straight for her. Knife out in front of him, he hoped to startle her to backing off, allowing for him to escape. To escape from this wretched forest, this awful town, and this impossible woman.

The setting changes from Bistritz to Earth

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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The gypsy ran directly at her, knife outstretched in front of his body, and the canvas bag clumsily hoisted on the other side of his body. This time, Vayne was prepared. Vayne shifted her weight to her right leg and slunk down. Her right shoulder ducked under the boys’ knife and collided into the boys left ribs. Vayne took care to use only enough force to push the boy off his feet, and not enough to do much bodily harm.

Off balance, Vayne grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and pulled down, slicing the strap to his bag, and stabbing the cloth into the ground. In one swift motion, she pushed her hip into his, and flipped him over her shoulder, and with a thud he landed on his back. The contents of the canvas bag above his head, messily strewn across the dark lifeless grass.

Vayne lazily stood and breathed a sigh of relief. The running and struggle had finally subsided for a moment. A beautiful ruby studded bracelet was at her feet, and she reached down and picked it up. Admiring it, Vayne slipped it on her supple wrist. Against her pale skin, the red of the ruby shown brightly, an ethereal glow surrounding it, making it seem that it was stained with crimson blood.

So deeply entranced by the beauty of the jewelry she almost completely forgot about the gypsy boy at her feet. “So now are you going to stop running and just tell me your name?” He didn’t respond. His eyes were moving side to side, in an apparent way to analyze an escape. But then it returned to the canvas bag, and the items he’s risked his life for twice now.

“Well, I can at least tell you, you won’t be going anywhere with these items you’ve looted
without at least paying for them in some way.”

“Pay? What are you, a walking sundries shop that sells hidden treasure?”

Vayne upturned a smile; she liked the kid’s moxie. “There are other ways to pay. Let’s play a game! For every question I ask that you can answer, you get to keep one of these trinkets. For everyone you don’t know the answer to, I keep a trinket. Sound fair?”

The boy was slowly getting to his feet looking at her quizzically. Vayne was hoping this little exchange would work. She’d hate to have to sully his pretty little face.

“Alright, fine. What do you want to know?”

“Good choice. First of all, what year is it?”

“1914.” The boy didn’t wait for Vayne to refute his answer, he simply grabbed a green cloak lined with emeralds and diamonds and pulled it around himself. He looked at the glimmer around his body and seemed to have a little bit of relief.

“Okay, what do you know of the castle?”

“Only what local stories I’ve picked up since I’ve been around here. It was once home to a rich family that were the protector’s of this village. No one alive really can recall who they were, only that they were odd, in the sense that they never seemed to age. It’s been abandoned for at least two generations of families in Bistritz, but no one can say for sure. The last master of the castle supposedly had just left, he stopped by to bid farewell to a small girl he saved. Most people don’t believe he really was a lord of the castle, but with you here now, I don’t see any reason to doubt that.”

While he spoke, the boy was lazily tracing his fingers over different things in the bag, and when he was done, he firmly seized an ornate sapphire ring, and put it in his pocket.

Vayne was very dissatisfied with his answer. The aged vampire couldn’t believe that her family would have abandoned their home. But, it did make sense to her now as to why she was awakened. The castle was as old and powerful as the Valentine family was, and it needed a master. But if she was woken to be the master now
she was the last in line for that title. Where was her brother, her parents, anyone?

As she pondered this, Vayne felt considerably more and more sick to her stomach. The boy started to pace around the treasure, feeling either uneasy or impatient for another questions, Vayne couldn’t tell and didn’t care which it was.

“Do you know where the last master was headed?”

“Not specifically. I did see him traveling with a few other people as they were leaving. They exited Bistritz from the west exit.”

A crystal necklace was his next choice, as he quickly stuffed it into his pocket. Vayne really didn’t have a plan of action, and didn’t know really where she was going. If she caught up to the last master of the castle, she would have more answers than this boy could provide. But for now, he was useful to keep around as a guide, and a potential source of food.

“What’s your na-“

Before she could finish the question Vayne felt a sharp pain rip through her, and she was sent flying slamming into the boy, and they both tumbled until Vayne hit a tree, with a fierce impact. It took a moment for Vayne to get her bearings but when she did, the familiar rush of adrenaline put her senses in overdrive, and her she fixed her eyes on her target. An old wrinkled woman, her gray hair pulled back messily, her dark eyes sunken into her skull, she was the epitome of a corpse that just refused to sleep.

“Another one of those pesky Valentine’s, I won’t allow you to help that little brigade. You’ll die here!” She raised her hands, focusing energy again, this time Vayne was ready for this witch’s magic. Vayne pushed the boy hard, out of harm’s way and dove out of the way to the left. The magic hit the tree, splintering the bark and creeping the tree forward.
Vayne did two front flips forward and without hesitation of the age of this old lady, sprang forward on her second flip and her feet connected with the face of the witch.

Vayne got back to her feet and was satisfied with the crumpled body on the grass before her. But that is when she realized that there was no woman in the pile of clothes on the ground, and instead there was a floating creature behind the boy. As it raised its hand to attack, the boy turned around to see the cloaked figure, and he tackled it out of the air. Vayne was impressed by the boy’s guts.

As quickly as it was on the ground, it forced the boy to fly off of it. It raised itself high into the air and began to chant demonic noises, and the earth beneath Vayne and the boy shook, until stalagmites began to erupt beneath them. Vayne once again tackled the boy out of the way, and Vayne was struck by one of the earth shards, a deep gash on her right shoulder.

She got up quickly, not allowing this wound to slow her down, and vaulted off of the stone steps, brandished her runic dagger, and stabbed the being in the center of where she believed its stomach to be.

They came crashing down to the earth. Vayne used the creature to break her fall. When Vayne got up she ripped the dagger from the body of the creature, pleased with her work.

Unfortunately, it did not take kindly to staying dead. The creature let out a wail, and invisible magic blasts burst forth. Vayne knew there was no avoiding them this time. So she grabbed the boy and began to muster power of her own, to defend herself and the boy as much as she could. To her surprise, as she mustered her own magic to defend them, the boy seemed to react and act as a conduit, instead of resisting her magic. The power grew and a wall of emerald light grew around them, and the magic of the spectral creature dissipated.

The creature seemed not to respond to physical assaults, and Vayne was growing tired quickly. A prolonged fight was not going to be in their favor. Vayne saw the glint of a hand mirror, encrusted with vampiric symbols and adorned with jewels. Vayne tumbled forward and grabbed the mirror. She willed her power through it and drew a symbol of control over a symbol of enchantment in the air, their outline shining in the air around her. She then threw her dagger shattering the symbol and gaining her power. It stabbed into the creature. Vayne held up the mirror and it reflected the image of the writhing creature. A bond formed between the dagger and the mirror, and just like that, the witch’s power was sucked through this bond, and she was transferred from a floating creature, to inside the hand mirror, her body and power trapped.

Both the vampire and the gypsy boy were panting, exhausted from their ordeal. The boy looked at her, and quietly said, “I’m Emilian.”

The setting changes from Earth to Bistritz

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Lieselotte Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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The fight had barely commenced before it was over. Embarassingly so. Appropriately enough, the vampire's work was commendable.

Appearing out from the trees, her feet stepped gracefully over the twigs and rocks that littered the forest floor. It was then that Emilian saw her...

Narrowed eyes came first, and an instinctive reach for whatever crude weapon lay holstered at his hip. And then came the widened, glazed expression. The vampire had noticed as well, and stared intensly, ready to pounce.

She took a few more paces toward them and stopped, giving a delicate curtsey.

"Salutations to you both. I am called Lieselotte." Her voice was sweet honey and her gaze slowly moved between the two parties.

"Please remit my sudden intrusion. I am afraid I was privy to your confrontation with that execrable demon. Nevertheless, I should like to praise your contrivance in the matter. Verily, I am impressed. One would expect no less preeminence from a member of the Valentine brood."

Lieselotte kept her distance from the two. She was close enough, however, for Emilian to see her divine lips curve into a coquettish smile. His heart leapt in his chest.

"Lamentably, time is not in our favor," she continued. "Allow me to explain the purpose of my visitation. I am a humble servant of a perspicacious master who is well-versed in matters of the occult. Most regrettably, he has forseen a particular disaster that shall occur in western Europe within the coming months. Should this come to fruition, t'would mean an unholy Rapture for all."

The woman paused, allowing Vayne and Emilian to digest this sudden information. The gypsy boy continued to gape at Lieselotte, though he'd regained enough sense to have the decency to close his mouth. The vampire's features, however, were a bit harder to read. The young woman continued...

"The Master is firm in his convictions that you, Milady Valentine, would prove to play a key role in averting this exigency."

Lieselotte's smile returned, both dark and serene. It made Emilian's stomach flutter and he hunched over a bit on reaction.

"Your prowess remains to be something of a legend, Milady...to those who still may recollect the most auspicious era of the Valentine dynasty."

She bowed deeply, keeping her distance yet feeling almost uncomfortably close.

"Should you acquiesce, I am to act as your obsequious servant until we reach our destination. I do beg your pardon for arriving with such haste. I understand any desire you may possess to dwell on the matter."

The night air between them was silent. Overhead the moon was in full force, casting a jagged pale light through the gnarled branches. Emilian thought it strange that he was unable to hear any sounds of animal life. A hooting owl, the chirping of frogs, perhaps... Looking back, he would think it odd that he would even take note of such a thing.

Lieselotte's porceline face set into another smile as she added...

"I hope your awakening was pleasant, Milady."

The setting changes from Bistritz to Earth

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Lieselotte Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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This was the absolute last thing Vayne needed- let alone wanted. As for as she was concerned, Vayne was no one's pawn, and she will control her own destiny. Besides, there was something off about this purple haired girl who had just enough precociousness in her speech and double meaning in her words to anger Vayne.

If this...commoner thought she was better or even slightly prettier than Vayne she was sorely mistaken. She can take her half smile, lazy gaze, and curtsey and go straight to hell for all Vayne cared.

A dull pain in her right shoulder had turned to a firm ache and Vayne stopped feeling contempt for the woman long enough to turn her attention to the wound, and to what she would respond to this woman.

“You seem to have a great vocabulary for one who's just going to be a servant. Most of my servants could barely read or write, let alone speak in circles like you do. However, I don't have the time or nearly enough patience for this so I'm going to be blunt, so empty whatever silly little thoughts you have in your cotton candy covered head. I am wounded, tired, and thirsty beyond recognition. I want to find my brother, who I can only assume was the previous master who left this castle, and I could not care less about whatever your Master has predicted. If he really intends for a Rapture to come he could at least come himself to relay all of the information he can rather than sending...you. Now, I'm going to head to town to recoup with my new friend Emilian and you can follow us and shut up until we get there and once I'm good and ready, I'll let you fully explain your premonition, or you can wander in the forest till you die. Have I made myself clear?”

Vayne ended her chastising of Lieselotte with a snickering half smile, reminiscent of the one she had done not a minute ago. She then turned to Emilian, who was standing mouth agape at Vayne, probably stunned at her little outburst. “Let's go Emi. Can I call you Emi? Much cuter nickname in my opinion. Oh, and keep the cloak, it suits you.”

Vayne and Emilian collected their belonging, smashed the handmirror, and walked towards the faint light of Bistritz. Behind her, she could hear faint footsteps follow them. Vayne just sighed, and kept walking.

The setting changes from Earth to Bistritz

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Lieselotte Character Portrait: Vayne Vixon Valentine
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Vayne was leaving, heading back into town, while Leesle...Lees...Lieseeelll...the other woman was seemingly following her -

'and did she just call me her friend!?'

This was all too much. He didn't want any of this. Wasn't prepared for any of this. He'd just wanted to make an easy penny, and had ended up being stalked by this Vayne woman as if he were some kind of prey, attacked out of nowhere by a hideous old woman - IF you could even call it that, and thoroughly creeped out by this...vixen!

'Of course THIS is the kind of female attention you get yourself...tch.'

And now Vayne wanted to head back into town? For what? So they could all get a table and play Shut the Box over a pint!? No way. No way in hell!

"Forget it!" He shouted. Vayne stopped and turned to him, her face mildly taken aback.

"I'm not going anywhere with you! I'm not your friend! I tried to rob you! You don't know me, and I sure as hell am not getting to know you! So you know what? Keep your damn cloak! I don't want anything to do with you freaks!"

Emilian whirled the cloak off his shoulders and threw it to the ground.

"Don't follow me. I don't owe you anything. Good luck with...whatever."

With that, he stormed off in the other direction. After a few paces, he turned around and returned, picking up the cloak."

"Actually, I am taking this. It's freezing out here."

Tossing the garment across his shoulders, the boy jogged off, disappearing into the thicket of trees. Over and over in his mind, he wished to be as far away from Bistritz and Blue Castle as possible.



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Lieselotte watched Emilian until he was out of sight. Then, turning to Vayne, she spoke...

"Might I propose that Milady patronize the local inn? I do suspect t'would be much more suitable to ameliorate your wounds. Milady could also permit me to further explain my cause, perchance?"

It appeared that "no" just wasn't in the cards for tonight. Before long, Vayne found herself sitting in the cold, dark annex of Bistritz's only inn. Lieselotte lit the few lamps that were scattered about the sparesly furnished room and laid out what little clean medical supplies that could be found.


o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o


An hour or so later, Vayne was ready to hear the girl speak. Lieselotte poured a cup of hot tea from a carafe, and set the cup in front of the vampire before bowing and taking a seat opposite her.

"Allow me to inaugurate properly by saying that The Master verily wishes he could be the one to explain these dire circumstances. But alas, infirmity has left him bereft of the strength necessary to make such an arduous trek."

Lieselotte paused for a brief moment, allowing the conversation to shift gears.

"If I may pose an inquiry...is Milady familiar with the ancient civilization of R'lyeh? It is purported to now lie at the bottom of the sea. As lore would dictate, R'lyeh exists on this earth to officiate as a beacon. This beacon has been called Neameto, Palace of the Deranged Gods. The rising of Neameto shall invoke the prescence of an ancient alien God from the far reaches of space. This entity will pass judgement on the earth, reducing all life to its purest original form."

The young woman stared across the table at Vayne, who had listened intently and without interruption. She had not touched her tea.

"As dubious as this tale may sound, I can assure you of both its validation and my sincerity. What The Master says shall prove veracious. There is a gentleman. A warlock of sorts. He is to be the perpetrator of this calamity via the Reverse Demon's Gate Invocation. Just six moons ago, this sacriment was attempted by a fool known as Dehuai. Indubitably, his ritual failed, but not without first inspiring another to continue where Dehuai left off. Even as Milady kindly grants me audience here and now, the warlock scours forbidden tomes, preparing for his self-made Ragnarok.

The Master seeks aid from the noble Valentine clan in this matter. The warlock and his schemes must be quashed if all life on this planet should aspire to see another generation."

That all-too familiar smile crept over Lieselotte's face as she delightfully added...

"Milady's brother has already left to join the fray. Master Keith awoke from his slumber not six moons ago, after the initial attempted Valorization emitted waves of mana and malice across the stratosphere."

Vayne's features narrowed and the air around her seemed heavy and electric. The mention of her brother's name suddenly made this twisted little fairy tale hit a bit closer to home.

"The sunken city of R'lyeh is said to rest in the deepest reaches of the northern Atlantic, off the coast of England. Will Milady be accompanying me? Or am I to return to The Master empty-handed and elucidate the details of Milady's repudiation with her brother?"

The wheel of fate was beginning to turn.



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Emilian knew something was wrong before he'd even made it back to the encampment. The air was thick, and he couldn't seem to quell the sense of foreboding that took hold deep within his stomach. Unable to deny it any further, he reached the campsite at a steady jog.

Dmitri and Pesha were standing outside the elder's caravan. They were a few years older and younger than Emilian, respectively. Growing up together, the three of them, along with the older, patronizing Ferka, were nearly inseperable. Ferka and Dmitri still had scars from the bareknuckle fights the foursome would compete in for the extra earnings. Having no true brothers or father himself, Emilian viewed them as closer than any blood relationship he knew.

He shot them a quizzical look. The two merely looked away in return. Pesha then walked around to the back of the caravan without a word.

Feeling the onset of fear sweep over him for the hundreth time tonight, Emilian spoke, keeping his voice low...

"Dmitri, what's the matter? Where is everyone?"

The man appeared to be holding his breath as his eyes held a steady, glossy gaze on the ground below him. He gestured with his thumb to the door of the elder's caravan. Brow furrowed and biting his lip, Emilian pushed the door open.
The interior of the modest wagon appeared to be buzzing with murmurs and hushed speak, which immediately ceased upon the boy's arrival. His eyes adjusted to the crude lighting to see a handful of his fellow tribe members gathered around...

A body.

'No...'

Not just any body.

"Ferka!"

Pushing past the others, Emilian knelt by the side of his former friend. His fingers instinctively reached for the man's arm and felt the cold, hard skin yield to his touch. Immediately, he pulled his hand back as if he were burned. Mouth agape, he struggled to speak, wheezing on short, shallow breaths.

"Wh-wh-wh...what...what...happened...? Wha-what is this!?"

Emilian looked up at his tribe's elder with wide and pleading eyes. The old man sternly returned his gaze. After an agonizing pause, the elder spoke...

"He is dead."

"I know that!" Emilian's heart was racing and a painful lump rose in his throat. "I know! But what...who..."

"Foolish boy," the elder interrupted. His voice was deep and somehow, terrifying. Emilian simply stared up, dumbfounded.

"What...?"

"He followed you," the old man continued, seemingly uncaring of Emilian's pain. "He knew you were going to that accursed castle. Ferka knew it was dangerous and so he followed into the forest after you. To save your pathetic hide!"

Emilian's breath caught in his throat.

"E-Elder...how can...how can you say that? How can you-"

"Pesha found him in the forest like this. It took all the strength he had to bring the body back!" The elder's cracked lips spewed forth spittle as he emphasized the last few words.

"But that still doesn't explain what happened to him! Emilian cried out.

"THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!" The old man boomed. He kicked the body, rolling it over. One of the women screamed.

Blood. Lots of it. Some dried and some still wet, covering the side of the man's face and neck. Emilian squinted and tried to look away, but something caught his eye...

Holes. Twin holes were set deep into Ferkas' throat. Puncture wounds about two inches apart.

'It couldn't be...'

"This is what your greed has brought us!" The elder's words cut the boy, who trembled at his feet. "This is what our patience with you has yielded! What was it all for!? What was worth this man's life!? This!?!?" He snatched the cloak and tore it from Emilian's shoulders. "This cotton and dye was enough to risk Ferkas' life? The man who cared for you like his own!?"

"No...no..." Emilian covered his ears as stinging hot tears streamed down his cheeks. "No...No..." his moans turned into pained wails as the elder continued to bellow, years of anger and frustration poisoning every syllable that spewed from his mouth.

"And now you disgrace this man's honor with your tears!? A gypsy man never cries! You bring shame upon this good tribe! More importantly, you bring pain and heartache! You aren't a gypsy at all! You are nothing!"

"Stop it!" Emilian shrieked. The elder continued to yell, veins rising from his blotched neck and temples.

"You will hurt us with your presence no more, child! From this moment forth, you are banished from the tribe!" He pounded his fist on the wall of the caravan, sending it rocking back and forth. "May God have mercy on your soul, because this world will not! Begone with you!"

Emilian screamed. So many thoughts and emotions swirled around his very core. A violent maelstrom of pain, anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. When he finally cleared his head, he found himself running. When he realized he was running, he ran faster.

The setting changes from Bistritz to Earth

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Character Portrait: Emilian Silivasi Character Portrait: Riveck Livian
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Riveck began his slow march towards Rouen. It would take him some time, the landing zone was a bit farther off from the town than he had intended, but Riveck didn't mind the quiet walk alone through the dense woods.

Riveck didn't regret killing Dante or Lorell. In fact, he was happy to be rid of them. Loose ends were not a part of Riveck's plans, and they always made a mess of things to clean up in the end; Riveck preferred to clean as he went.

Two more souls closer, he thought. Riveck had his own motives for wanting death and destruction to follow him. It was the path that he chose. Yes, his parents were killed at a young age, and yes he was groomed to be a natural borne killer, but Riveck was never compelled to do any of this. He felt a yearning, a desire, to want to be the one that ends life.

Paradoxical, Riveck revered all life, and respected it. But, he believed that if you are not willing to own the defense of your own life, then you deserved to have it ripped from you. Sentimental attachments only increased the lives you would have to defend, yours and your love, and your children, and your grandchildren. That was a responsibility that Riveck would never undertake, his life was the only one that matters.

It is not like he had much choice in the way of sentiment anyway. For who could love him? He was a monster, no better than the malice instilled beings that blindly killed everything in their path. The difference was, Riveck was worse. Riveck thought out the death of others, Riveck assured it. No one could ever love someone like that. Even if he decided to poor his entire twisted soul out to another person, it would only be wrenched away from him, and he would be left broken, alone, and scared.

What is worse, Riveck would never be able to handle that kind of emotion. Being alone for his whole life, if that was to happen it would be too much. He could not stand to see his love happy with another person. It would mean their deaths, or his own. Riveck had a mind to end himself every so often, when he thought that maybe he didn't deserve the life he was living, being a harbinger of death. But then he realized that that day would only come after his soul had been completely unraveled, and right now it was only incomplete.

But he still knew no one would ever love him. So Riveck whistled a tune – I'm the angel of death, babe the end is near. Keep your hands on your chest, don't let me whisper in your ear. It's best to keep on walkin', lock the door when I come knockin', mines the voice you never want to hear. Oh, mine's the voice you never want to hear. - And he walked alone, down the dark path of death and destruction, forever unloved, until someone came along, and destroyed him completely.

And he heard a noise rustle through the trees, stopped his tune, and turned so that the intruder could too, look into the eyes of death.