Rosalie V. Boudreaux | 321 | Female | Dame | Utalea
Mentions: Mauve (ind.)
[Outfit]

Rosa leaned back into the leather covering of a corner booth, her arms and legs crossed together, while her eyes surveyed the crowd on the dancefloor. Her two-colored hair slicked back behind her ears, giving herself a presentable image. Rosa doesn't need to scare people away from this mission. Instead, she needs their full attention, allowing them to approach her first and make the first move. Her arms released each other, lazily slouching them on the top of the top cap of the booth. "You need recognition, but not too much, Rosa. Make yourself mysterious yet magnetizing at the same time." However, being cordial isn't something she's qualified for, as her presence tends to scare people away. Not lure them in. Why was she doing this anyway? Especially at a club? Well, this is her mission assigned to her by Thanos, which was to gain intel on one particular human that had possible connections with the hunters involved with the Red Night incident. She was used to handling personal tasks from the Soviergn before, but this was different, and she hates to admit it. She was rusty, and her skills had been left to wilt ever since she became Mauve's bodyguard. Rosa let herself slack off, and she's scolding herself immensely for that. Working with Mauve as her guardian was exhilarating while it lasted, yet she couldn't handle remaining by her side for so long as their relationship was. . .improper.

Rosa's face briefly fell before retaining her stoic visage, shoving such thoughts to the side to focus on the job. Still, she couldn't help but sigh, twirling a finger in her hair as she spaced out. She shuts her eyes, listening to the music blaring from the seemingly endless speakers in the room. The people's whoops and hollers were enough to give her a headache, and she didn't need to get drunk to get one. The drunken shouts of those searching for their friends or the next person to kiss are hilarious in some aspects. If this were in a nature documentary, the narrator would call the drunken screams a mating call. Telling a story about party-goers going crazy on the floor would bring profit and reach the best movies to be directed. The suspense, comedy, plot twists, and character developments from the club alone make it worth attending from Rosa's perceptive. Random things happen at clubs, either on the dancefloor or the bar. It's a theatre full of unknowing actors with everyone waiting intently for something engaging: fights, significant others cheating, someone throwing up on another, or a blackout drunk person sleeping in the randomness of places. One incident she remembered happening in a similar club was when someone brought a horse inside. Rosalie couldn't help but giggle at such a memory. Although the party life was thrilling, it can be tiresome sometimes and make you crave isolation.

"What are you doing here by yourself, beautiful?" A feminine voice called out to her, and Rosa resisted the urge to comment, "Quite a cheesy line, don't you think?" But held her tongue, opening her eyelids to see who was speaking with her. Her eyes locked on the other's face, taking in her features gingerly. She had a hearty face and dark brown downturned eyes. Her full-shaped lips were covered in glittery red lipstick, which made Rosa cringe internally as it reminded her of Mauve's. The woman sparkly red dress covered her hourglass body, stopping inches past her hips with her chest partially covered. It was showing off her curves all too well. She watched her tug at her black hair, a sultry grin on her face. Her actual height is uncertain due to her wearing laced red heels. She was pretty but not as attractive as most Shune vampires in the coven, specifically Mauve. "Admiring the view," gesturing to her, offering her a polite smile, and scooting over to allow the other to sit. The other did so, settling herself inches away from her. When the stranger twisted her body to face her, Rosa forced herself to remain and blocked her uneasiness from showing on her face. "How sweet," the woman replied, batting her long eyelashes, "Names Carla. Yours?" Carla questioned, her eyes glued on Rosa's, who was already creating a fake name to use. Instead of instantly answering her question, the two-colored hair woman leaned forward, a mischievous grin on her face, "I do not give my name out to strangers. For a pretty lady such as yourself, I can change that," god, she wanted to barf right there. Luckily, she didn't, thanks to her being dead. It's good being a vampire sometimes. Well. When you're not being hunted down, that is. "Names Aurore, charmed to have your acquaintance."

Carla's lips spread further, reaching to her eyes, "Oh? Such a breathtaking name." She pointed toward the bar, Rosa following her finger before looking back to her, "Do you want to get something to drink? It's on the house." Rosa shrugged her shoulders, grinning amusedly before getting to her feet. "Of course. The best drink is a free one in my books." She joked, making Carla laugh as she stood up, wrapping her arms around Rosa's. Her pupils dilated in surprise, and Rosa couldn't tell if she was blushing or if it was the makeup. "So. . .firm." She felt her arm get squeezed while her hand traveled up and down her arm. Such actions made the vampire shudder, chewing the insides of her cheeks. "I do work out." She answered, tugging her arm out of the others. As they arrived at the bar, Rosa sat down on the bar stool, Carla sitting down beside her. The two turned in their chairs to face each other, Rosa focusing on Carla's face, reading her facial expressions and whatever emotions would arrive in her eyes. The two conversed about their interests, Rosa lying about it all. The topics change after each question gets answered, and the vampire finds herself invested in the other woman. When the bartender served them their drinks, a cocktail, and whiskey, Rosa nearly forgot about her beverage until Carla mentioned it. "Oh, apologies. I was lost in the convo," she grabbed her whiskey and sipped, "Fresh. I like it." To her, alcohol taste like nothing, let alone affects her as it does with mortals. Still, she'll drink to keep up with appearances or do it out of fun.

══════⊹⊱❖⊰⊹══════

Mentions: Thanos (ind.) and open
[Outfit]

Rosa rides her motorcycle along the darkened and lonely street, driving in the direction of the castle to report what she discovered to Thanos. She turned right on a dirt road, partially covered by vegetation. The vampire followed the road until she noticed the familiar structure in the distance, an odd sensation of relief coursing through her undead body. Rosa drove the rest of the way until she reached the rounded driveway of the castle and parked her bike. She shuts off her engine and hurried on inside to report to the sovereign and receive another mission. Turns out Carla was the daughter of the club owner and in her drunken state spilled suspicious-looking people that arrive at the club every Friday at midnight. She stormed inside, eager to share the news until she overheard someone saying that Thanos wasn't even there and was paying a visit to the casino. Well, guess she has to play that place a visit, even though that was Mauve's main hang-out spot. Rosa still had her room at the castle before she was even employed under Mauve, which means she has clothes to change into.

As quick as she was to arrive, the vampire left without hesitation. She rode her motorcycle to the casino and parked it in a nearby abandoned warehouse, which was a few miles away, then Rosa traveled the rest on foot. Her hands were in her pockets as she scans the area around her to ensure that no one was following her. She followed the familiar path until her eyes were met by the casino's wonderous appearance. She hastens her steps to the main entrance where a bouncer was standing guard, when he looked at her, Rosa could tell that he was inspecting her. "Name?" "Rosalie Boudreaux." The guard was quiet for a few seconds before nodding his head and turning away to stare at someone else. Rosa set foot in the casino, heading further inside the place until she came to a stop at the bar. She went from one bar to another, although this one serves a different kind of beverage, one that pleases her tastebuds. She sat on one of the stools, ordered herself a glass of AB blood, and sipped it steadily. Her eyes surveyed the attendees of the casino, trying to see if Thanos's face would pop up from the crowd.

Harper Carnell | 21 | Genderfluid (she/him) | Pansexual Ambi | Blood-Gifter

M: N/a

Most vampires were in hiding after what human officials and newspapers claimed was a “Bizarre Incident Involving a Chemical Fire, Hundreds Dead” or a “Terrorist Attack on Local Building, Now Turned to Ash” or whatever cover-up or conspiracy people came up with, but after being a blood gifter for roughly six years by consent or force Harper could practically feel the vampire breathing down his neck on the bus. Because every bone in his body hurt from having to repair some old man’s roof earlier this morning before the sun was even up and while the metal was still frozen to his fingertips, Harper barely had the energy to shift away from the slender figure to his left as he pressed into the cold subway bench that was the warmest thing Harper had touched all day. With her energy nearly all drained from earlier today, she was only awake now due to the fear of the figure with her long, dark hair pulled back into a bun that was hidden mostly under her cap, her warm jacket wrapped tightly around her slender persons, and those wild eyes— red, glowly, but more importantly hungry— hidden behind sunglasses. The boy on his phone with his earbuds in playing music so loud that one would have easily mistaken his not having any earbuds at all, the tired mister in a suit calling his mistress on the phone with hushed, quiet giggles on the way to work, and even the old woman resting her wooden cane against her leg as she knit wool across from Harper would have ran screaming had the woman next to Harper decided to take off her glasses or forgotten to cover her mouth when she yawned. None of them even understood what a vampire was so maybe they would assume she was a cosplayer or nerd of sorts, but Harper knew the danger and Harper did not need her red eyes or sharp teeth to identify it.

The vampire was so easy to spot the way she squirmed and shifted in her spot, sitting down next to Harper as her nose twitched. Glancing away with a tired sigh, Harper watched from the corner of their pale blue eyes as the vampire inched closer, her lips trembling before covering her mouth. It was quiet, but muffled pants escaped her mouth as she inched closer, her thigh pressing into Harper now. She was absolutely a member of the Duciano clan with how feral she was acting.

Harper just refused eye contact with her before shuttering as she felt the woman’s breath on her neck.

“You’re a blood gifter,” the woman whispered in a rough voice as her arm crawled around Harper’s waist and tugged at Harper’s scarf. She nearly slapped away the woman right then and there just for touching the red wool scarf her mother made her. Harper grew tense and gripped her purse, reaching inside for her pepper spray. Drawing in a long breath of Harper’s scent, this woman was taking full advantage of no one else on the train car even glancing at Harper. As the train ran through a tunnel, streaks of light dashed across the vampire’s face with a menacing smirk of sharp teeth. “God, I can smell it on you…~”

“Let go of me,” Harper hissed back.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” The woman was practically groaning into his neck as the tunnel shrouded the both of them in darkness. Her arm wrapped tighter around Harper, pulling him into her chest.

“I said, let go.”

“How much? How much do I have to pay for you?”

Harper squirmed in his spot before releasing her hold of the pepper spray, tightening his red scarf around himself which sheltered his neck from the woman.

“150 for blood, 250 if you want more than blood.”

“Deal.”

The woman sealed her lips as soon as the train exited the tunnel.

The orange hue of the rising morning reflected in Harper’s eyes as she rested her elbow on the back of the train seat and her chin on her palm. Harper let out a shaky sigh as he closed his eyes and embraced the light. The sun was so nice and warm, but Harper wished it had been warmer earlier.

~~~~~

Rubbing the side of his neck, Harper sighed as his legs ached while walking up the concrete stairs, stepping over litter, cat piss, and cockroaches. Shuffling through his coat pocket with one hand breathing hot air on his shivering other one, Harper stopped at Quinn’s apartment and, once he discovered the key, shoved it into the keyhole.

Quinn was Harper’s boyfriend though they were more like business partners; Harper went out, did out jobs, sold her blood, and gave Quinn most of the profit, and in return, Quinn gave Harper food, shelter, and affection. Sure, ancient ramen and green bread were unappetizing and the broken window and stiff mattress were just some of the poor features that make the apartment a grotesque living space, but at least Quinn’s affection was genuine. Well, it was more genuine than most of Harper’s other exes who seemed to only want Harper for money, sex, or blood. Then again, everytime Harper and Quinn kissed, everytime Quinn shouted at Harper, and every day that ended with Quinn locking him to bed in chains made from blood magic and unlocking him in the morning, it all felt wrong— like spiny centipedes crawling under his skin. But this was fine because Harper and Quinn loved each other. There was nothing Quinn could do to—

“Harper.” Authoritative. This was his authoritative voice while he motioned to the stained couch. “Have a seat.”

Chills ran down Harper’s spine as she stood dead in her tracks from fear. Quinn stood with his black hair pulled back out of his face, his eyes narrowed directly at Harper. As Harper stood, Quinn said and did nothing. Harper lowered her eyes as she shuffled to the couch, racking her brain with whatever she could have possibly done or said to upset Quinn. Harper pressed her thighs together and placed her hands in her lap.

“Have you been holding out on me?”

Harper clenched her jaw but said nothing. Quill stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Harper from across the stained and empty beer bottle-filled coffee table. Quill generally spoke in a sing-song tone when playing with Harper’s hair, asking how her day was, and getting uncomfortably close and touchy to her, but Harper hated it more as his tone was firm, strict, and scary— no, authoritative. It was such a conflicting feeling too. Quill was generally so nice to her, but to have him suddenly turn and be so aggressive at random intervals was somewhat distressing. If it was a stranger or someone Harper knew was a terrible person, Harper would absolutely talk shit to their face and call them out on their shit, but if it was Quill? There was always an excuse—

“He is just stressed.”

“He is probably tired.”

“He didn’t mean it this time.”

—because of course there always was. What could Quill ever do wrong? Even though Harper was well aware of the cracks in their relationship— as long as the tears of wallpaper on their apartment wall and as widespread as the shattered glass hidden by the wooden planks that boarded the windows— but Harper could not pull away from him.

“I do all this work for you— for you— and this—” Quinn slammed down a paper bag of money that was all too familiar to Harper— “is what you do in return? Do you know how much we could have used this fucking money earlier, Harper??” Harper closed his eyes tightly after staring at the bag, wanting to explain everything but knowing speaking over Quinn would be asking for pain. “You’re pathetic.” Ouch. Those words stung. “Did you really think I would not find out eventually?!” Quill scoffed loudly, his red eyes judging Harper. Harper just bowed his head and flinched as Quinn shoved the glass beer bottles off the table that smashed into the wall and ground with a crash! Harper bit his lip as he ducked his head and closed his eyes tighter. Harper could only tense as he heard the steps of Quill approaching as he walked around to the other side of the table. Harper could almost feel Quill’s eyes on him before he harshly grabbed Harper’s face and tilted his face to crane up to the giant of a man. “Look at me, Harper.”

Harper hesitantly opened her eyes, but instantly wished she had not. Quill stared down at her with his loving yet wicked smile as his vampiric teeth glistened in the crimson lighting that peered through the curtains of the barricaded windows.

“See? Was that so hard?~” There it was. That sing-song tone. Harper bit his lip until it began to bleed. Quill tilted his head with an almost psychotic expression as he dragged his thumb over Harper’s lip, smearing blood on the corner of his lips. “Now…, I want you to tell me why a pretty little face like you—” Quill’s grip grew tighter so suddenly that Harper could not help but quietly gasp as he dug his nails into her skin— “would lie to me and break our deal??”

“I am glad you think I have a pretty face,” Harper chuckled with a smirk, but Quill was not amused. Crawling onto her lap as his hand slithered to her throat, Harper tried to suppress her shaking once it was clear Quill would not be taking that as an answer as he pressed her against the back of the couch that groaned as Quill’s weight was fully placed on it. Quill was much heavier— and far stronger— than Harper. “L-Look, I have been honoring our deal like I was supposed to: you get 75 percent and I get 25. This is just money I have been saving up these past years. I told you that I have been saving up money, right?”

“It sounds to me like you’re lying….”

Harper’s face filled with terror as he quickly shook his head. “No, no! I promise you! I’m not— Wh-Why would I lie?” Harper’s tone was wavering and shaky as he could feel Quill’s hand tighten around his neck. Harper choked back a sob as they forced a smile and weakly grasped onto Quill wrist in desperation. “I… I would never lie to you because I owe everything to you…!” Quill’s grip loosened. “You’re just so… so charismatic and kind and and… handsome! I would never— never— lie to someone who took me in and—”

“It’s so cute when you compliment me like this,” Quill spoke in a husky chuckle, moving his hands up her neck and to her face. Pressing weakly into his hand, Harper sighed now that the brief terror was over. “You know Harper,” Quill’s voice became sweet like honey as it ensnares a fly, “you’re so gorgeous—” Quill pressed a light kiss to his cheek— “kind to me—” and another— “and stunning…” Quinn licked the blood off Harper’s lips with his slimy tongue that caused Harper to shiver. “You are perfect.”

Quinn’s ears burned red and smiled softly from the praise, but the moment was ruined by a forceful kiss.

No, stop stop stop stop please just stop!

He ran a hand through Harper’s hair and she felt like she could just cut it all off then and there.

Please stop, please please…!

He smoothed his free hand down her chest and to her exposed waist. The clothes that once made her feel confident now felt too little and slimy with his touch.

No!

He began to—

Harper shoved him with as much force as she could possibly muster, sending him back into the coffee table that snapped in half from his weight alone. Harper sat on the couch, staring in shock at what she had done as Quill groaned and seemed to be readjusting. Why did he do that?

Why did I do that?!

Harper did not wait to see if he would get up.

Springing to action, he snatched his money bag off the ground by the broken table and rushed to his room before hurriedly grabbing the two bags he always kept packed beneath his bed before—

“Wait!” Quill’s voice demanded. Harper froze in the doorway as he had one foot already out the door. Harper glanced over his shoulder to see Quill laughing softly as he stood, swaying as he walked to Harper with handcuffs he made from his blood magic in his hands as he stumbled forward. “You… You won’t be able to find anyone willing to be your sire if you leave me.” Harper swallowed hard. “I know how much that means to you Harper…~” Tears bubbled up in his eyes. “Come back to daddy now and this whole fiasco will all be forgiven and I will make you my childe. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Quill laughed softly and before Harper knew it Quill was wrapping an arm around his waist from behind and kissing his neck sweetly. Harper could hear the blood handcuffs clink and jiggle in his other hand. “Even if you do leave, I know you’ll always come back to me, Harper…~”

“No,” Harper stated firmly before breaking from his grasp. “Not again, Quill.”

Harper ran and did not look back. He did not look back when he left the apartment, when he left the building, nor even when Harper ran all the way to a trolly stop and collapsed onto the bench, panting heavily with tears clouding his vision.

Tauekel Zhadan Viljar | 639 | Male | Marquess | Utalea | Mentions; Joaquin(Ind/Dir), Anij(Very Ind), Reynard(Very Ind).

Tauekel hadn’t been in the shower for very long, he didn’t think so at least. He was usually very good at keeping track of time. It was how he’d managed to keep track of his age where other vampires would’ve lost count by now. He knew many that had lost count before their 200s even. So, let it be said again, he didn’t think he’d been in the shower for very long. When he heard the door to his bathroom open, however, he paused to try and discern if he had been in there longer than he’d thought. The water was still quite hot though, so he wasn’t sure.

--

Regardless, the opening of the door had caught his attention. Because realization came soon with it that… Well, for one, that meant it had to be Joaquin. He didn’t think anyone else would. And for two, that he was stripped. In a hot shower. In front of Joaquin. Because he hadn’t closed the shower door. Though, to be fair, he never did. Why would he? No one had ever come in here while he was showering before. Now, while other vampires might’ve gotten embarrassed or flustered at this event. Tauekel merely looked over, seeing indeed- His little fox, Joaquin. On the contrary to his own minimal reaction, Vixen seemed much more embarrassed, with wide eyes and certainly looking like he’d melt.

--

The door was slammed closed, and for moment- Tauekel wasn’t sure if the squeak was from Joaquin or the fast movement of the door. Either way, the Marquess had to keep from chuckling aloud. A warm smile quickly growing on his face at the antics. An embarrassed Joaquin was certainly a cute one.

--

The door was opened again, slowly. Shyly. He watched with an eyebrow slightly raised, a warm smile on his face. The little fox having an expression that made him seem shy, embarrassed… Coy. Very coy. Very cute. He wondered if Vixen was easy to fluster too, he hadn’t seemed it the night before but Tauekel knew quite well that private affection was different for many.

--

“Sorry, didn't mean to walk in on you, I didn't realize this restroom was in use.”

--

Tauekel’s eyes narrowed slightly, the warm smile staying on his face, his Slavic accent rather thick with having woken up recently. “It’s quite fine, little fox.” His eyes drifted from the shorter man’s blue eyes to the warm sheet wrapped around him. Had Vixen not seen the dress he had laid out? Or was he wanting to shower first? And the little fox seemed so tense too…

--

“Uhm- were those clothes out there for me? Because if they're for me - they're beautiful and I honestly don't know what to say, but thank you.”

--

His eyes went back to the other’s face, noting the apologetic smile as the other struggled to stay focused on his face. He brightened his smile, “Yes, they’re for you. I am glad you like them.” He kept his eyes on Vixen, watching the shorter one’s tension and shyness. He hummed to himself, warm and thoughtful. “Did you want to shower? You can join if you’d like. I do not mind.”

--

On the contrary, he might enjoy sharing the shower. Another being here would help with warmth, with keeping the ice at bay. Where it had to stay. Where it always had to stay. He didn’t want a repeat. Cold crept up, freezing over a pool, and he shoved it down before it could make his face taut. Before it could freeze his smile. Shoved it as far away as it would go. And smiled warmly just the same, even going as far as to brighten it. Nodding to himself a bit in order to keep himself occupied. “Yes, I do not mind. Vixen in shower too would be nice.”

--

And, as he tended to do when he was pushing away from the cold… His warm eyes traveled along Vixen, staying on the hair for a moment longer. Noting every lovebite or scratch that had been left behind on the visible skin the little fox was showing, staying on each one for a moment longer to try and burn the image into his mind. His vision stayed on the tension longest, however, heavily ambered and barely blued eyes staring at every tense spot, trying to will them away with a simple warm, fond look. “Hot shower helps tension too. Very important for little fox. He shouldn’t be tense. Too handsome to be so tense.”

--

Maybe he was being too warm, too adamant about the little fox joining the shower. But warmth helped for a lot of things. More than the cold did. And his words were true. Vixen was much too handsome, much too cute to be so tense. His warm expression stayed on Joaquin. Fondness in his eyes, having to hold back the urge to run a hand through the little fox’s hair. To caress and hold and care for. To do whatever that he could to burn away the tension, the embarrassment, the shyness. He hoped his warm gaze wasn’t too sharp, too fond. He hoped his little fox wasn’t against the idea either though. He hoped his Vixen would stay for some sort of food at the least, he’d hate for him to go home hungry.

Brosc Sloan | 675-ish | Male | Bisexual Poly | Justicar

M: Suya (dir.)

Lawsuits piled onto his desk to about two feet in length though these were only the ones he had yet to review. On the right side of his wooden desk across from the massive pile with the lone, white lamp sat two separate piles, one that had grown up to a foot by now and the other which was significantly smaller with official gold stamps in the corner of the court papers. His strawberry blonde hair fell over his face as Brosc crumpled over his desk (nearly knocking over his coffee cup, the dunce) in a tired sigh while holding the most recent paper as close to his face as possible, trying to get himself to refocus on his work. As a justicar, Brosc was in charge of helping Thanos with whatever busy work he needed in ruling, a big part of that was “upholding the goodness of the vampiric peoples and maintaining secrecy from the human race” or at least that was what old law books said. In reality, Brosc was mostly in charge of criminal offenses and lawsuits which had little to do with separating vampires from humans and keeping the two separate. You would think there would be less cases after the attack not long ago, but of course some sick, horrible vampires were taking the opportunity to lash out at one another in an attempt to gain more power as seen with the case Brosc was currently observing.

Lisa Bartholomew, age eleven, the daughter of two, high-ranking Phego members who died in the fire. Of course, Walter Xavier, age nine hundred seventy-one, her tutor and butler for her entire life, decided that he could take advantage of the deaths of Bartholomew’s parents and marry her to advance in rank. As her legal guardian, Xavier is both entitled to making “decisions deriving from maturity,” which technically involves marriage, for Bartholomew since she is below the age of twenty and is allowed to marry her since there are only laws protecting against incenstual relations and not technically legal guardians. By all sensible morals, the implications of this were horrible and unforgivable, but from a current legal stature, it was— technically— allowed. What is worse is that poor Miss Bartholomew is not at the legal vampirical age in order to file a lawsuit against Xavier. In fact, the only reason Brosc was reading this case was because Bartholomew was lucky enough to have a caring nurse who had also known the girl for her eleven years of life— Thessalia Ozbriana, age one hundred eighty-nine— filed a lawsuit against Xavier on the count of child endangerment. This, sadly, made the case more complicated. Now, Brosc had to make a decision: place the case in the public court which will then make imprisoning, suing, and/or severely punishing Xavier much more easy since most will vote in favor of the little girl or place the case in a high court where new laws can be put in place to close the loopholes Xavier exploited which might stop this from happening to other children and be supervised by the other justicars and by Thanos himself with a much higher chance of the case failing and placing a new law in place that could harm future children like Bartholomew. Goddess, this was far too complicated.

Brosc placed the paper down on the desk before grabbing his mug and leaning back in his chair. Tipping the cup to his lip as he sat pensive, Brosc recoiled in disgust as the ice cold coffee touched his lips. His face shrunken in a grimace as he could have sworn the coffee still would have been warm since he made it just before he started work this morning. How long had he been working anyways? Stepping away from his desk, Brosc’s legs burned with each step as it felt like this was his first time walking in a decade. As he reached his phone which he had placed on his small coffee table, Brosc had to turn it on, then off, then on again to make sure he was seeing the time right. He had been at this for nearly four hours and he had not even had a decent cup of coffee.

If he had just gone back to bed instead of allowing that stupid nightmare to bother him, maybe he would have rested more, maybe he could have put the cases off for a better date, but for now, Brosc tightened the satin ribbon of his robe around his waist, gulped down the cold coffee with a scrunched face, and mentally promised Lisa Bartholomew that he would get back to her case momentarily. At least this robe he had, despite being a hundred years old, was comfortable as he stumbled tiredly while craning his neck left and right while rubbing it with cramped hands.

There was exactly one person who could make his morning a bit brighter as he crawled up the stairs to Suya’s door with a small yawn.

“Suya?” Brosc asked, knocking on the dark oak door before turning the handle and leaning against the doorway since he still wanted to wait for permission to enter Suya’s bedroom. “Are you up to chat a bit, cutie?”

She wet down the rag and wiped down the counter. She washed off the rag off and wandered off to find a broom. She knew she could find a Thrall or something to do this but it made her feel a lot better knowing that she'd done it herself. It just felt- cleaner. She was amazed anyone could have fixed the plumbing, this place was on its last limb for still being inhabitable.

She finally found a broom, in a closet way too far away from the Kitchen. She started sweeping from that room all the way to the kitchen. Her back was aching so bad by the time she finished. She hopped up on the counter, looking around at the rustic castle appearance. It was actually quite nice despite all of the animal life and plant life. She laid back, her back and sternum cracked. She groaned and lay there for a moment.

She'd been wandering for at least twenty minutes before she found some high quality salmon. She was on her way home with fresh ingredients for sushi, the loud sounds and the vibration in her feet kept her sedate and infact quite content sitting in her truck for a long time. Thankfully it was only like a half hour or so from the place she'd picked.

She turned, grabbing the pot and setting to work, this she was basically doing on autopilot, it was like second nature to cook for her.

Shanahan Plight Marcellus | 313 | Male | Thrall(Former Prince of Eclipse Reign) | Ilepir | Mentions; Noelle(Ind/Dir), Isobel (Ind/Dir), Sebastian(Ind), Open.

Outfit; https://postimg.cc/gallery/G8KsV1f

-

Shanahan had been awake for a while, perhaps the whole day, before coming to Master Noelle’s room, walking around the young liege’s castle and making sure the- other- Thralls were all doing what was expected of them. Especially since Master Noelle couldn’t do so themself at the moment, probably still in bed due to their cycle. So he moved easily to go and check up on them, stepping into their room after a light knock on the door to alert them of his presence. Only to see Noelle getting up from their bed, white bonnet on their head and sheets wrapped around them. He gave a slight bow as they approached, and then stood straight again, hands clasped behind his back.

--

“Shanahan, can you write a letter telling my father I will not be in attendance for the meeting, because I am not feeling my best and need to rest… and then can you get me my goodies?”

--

And while he was sure his stoic face didn’t smile or express any fond emotion, he was also sure that Master Noelle, even in their sleepiness, knew he would oblige. He’d already told some of the young regent’s chefs earlier to start on different chocolate and raspberry treats for the young sovereign. As for the letter, he’d never say aloud how relieved he was by the decision. Instead, he simply nodded, “Of course, My Lord.”

--

He watched Noelle make their way back to their bed before turning and leaving the room. Walking down the halls of the castle, he reached the phone in the kitchen. Phones had actually been something he’d had to learn to use after coming here after the Red Night. His coven hadn’t used them. Before he could pick the phone up to call the Sovereign’s castle, the phone rang. Checking who it was and seeing that it was the same place he’d been about to call, he answered within the first couple rings.

--

“Greetings, this is the castle of the Young Lord. How may I help you?” His tone stayed impassive, empty, and yet still polite. There was no reason to state his own name, that was one positive to being a Thrall, at the very least. No reason to get attached to anyone, to meet anyone.

--

“I have called to inform the Young Sovereign that the meeting has been canceled.”

--

Shanahan blinked a second, and then nodded lightly to himself. “I shall deliver the message to them, thank you for the update.”

--

“Of course.”

--

And with that, niceties were exchanged and the call ended. So much easier than in his coven, than when he was so close to the top. He put down the phone, and turned, beginning on his way back through the castle. While passing through the main lobby, a knock echoed out from the front door. He paused, glancing over. A different Thrall had already begun walking over, so he waved them off and walked over himself. He’d rather know who it was first, not second. Certainly not last. Especially as Master Noelle’s highest ranked Thrall here, whatever the one outside needed, he could relay it to them faster, better, than the rest of the low ranked vampires here.

--

The other Thrall nodded and backed away, going back to whatever it was they had been doing before. Shanahan would have to check and make sure they were following the instructions they’d been given in the servant’s quarters this morning. He had spent long enough on the schedule to not want anyone falling out of place. Not this week, certainly.

--

He walked over to the door, opening it and readily preparing to react accordingly to a higher ranked vampire. Instead, he was met with a… Human woman. For a split second, he was back at his own castle, being told of his father and sister’s deaths. Being told that everyone of the coven that had gone to the meeting was dead, that only certain members of his coven knew of his continued undead life, that it was possible that the humans that had killed them knew of his location. That his choice to not go to the meeting due to having other things to do, to finish had been the only thing to keep him from true death.

--

Only for a split second though, and then he noticed the letter clutched in the woman’s hand, her face was nervous, almost awkward. His own face was still characteristically blank, empty, and impassively polite. He did a once over of her, eyes narrowed to judge whether or not she was trustworthy enough to speak to or if he should call for Sir Serkonos to handle the issue. Her hair was dark, tied up in a loose ponytail. Her clothes were casual, something that caused the slightest hint of skepticism to glint his pale yellow eyes. Capris that were too big for her, a belt, rose colored blouse, and a necklace. An antique locket necklace, specifically.

--

Quite honestly, compared to him, she was severely underdressed. With his pale yellow suit, shalimar bow tie and pocket square, black shirt, black leather gloves, and black boots with a golden ornate design; not to mention his well kept hair, monocle, and yellow sapphire earrings– Yes, this human woman was incredibly underdressed.

--

Overall though, she seemed completely harmless. Someone that would be easy to overpower with any of his own powers. So, he opened the door further, clasping his hands behind his back with purpose. “Good morning, Madame. May I assist you?”