emissaryalder

[emissaryalder]

who?: @aureamoretti where?: meeting hall, licherally right after the first meeting oop

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An urgent concern for the Alpha's ears only was plausible, and given how focused she seemed Alder didn't want to let his chance slip away. Alder had barely taken his eyes off her since he witnessed her bond to her pack. Aurea was so quick to move, so direct, and he could barely see the upper bounds of her power. He's been waiting for her for so long now. His Queen of Lupercal. "I've fallen in love with Lupercal. It sorta feels like I've been taking care of it, for you. At this point, I'd pretty much do anything to protect it." Alder dives right in the second they're alone, not wanting to waste Aurea's time or alarm her by lying. His heart was beating fast enough as it was. "I could do even more if you did me a great honor. A witch doesn't need a coven if they have a pack, right?" he questions, swallowing before continuing in an attempt to moderate himself. "If I were allowed to channel the Alpha, think of all I could do for the city, the pack, and for you."

[emissaryalder]

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Alder had been so enraptured by all the different forms magic took in Rome that he’d allowed himself to forget about human potential. He knew that fear and terror could have physiological effects when amplified through his manipulations, but was that the extent of their capabilities? Energy followed laws, so if those feelings could weaken a person then surely they had energy too. Alder simply had to harness it. Due to the magnitude of his ultimate goal, he needed to explore every opportunity.

A lone human was the perfect target for him. He knew exactly what he wanted from the man and how to get it. All that was left to do was execute his plan. Alder had started with an herbal tea, something to help warm his body some from the inside so he wouldn’t run the risk of losing focus. He still had to bundle up in his many layers, but at least he wouldn’t get distracted. “Please, I need your help. Only you can help me. If you don’t, it might get me.” There was no danger or risk, however Alder’s illusory tongue coated his every word. The spell cast on his speech was his specialty, and if his preparations were enough, he’d be able to take what he needed without incident. “Help me please, not as a stranger but as a friend. Would you leave a friend out in the cold to suffer?” Alder continues his approach, making no effort to mask the intensity of his eyes. He was focused on the task at hand. “Please say you’ll help me. Don’t leave me out in the cold alone.”

@emissaryalder location: Fey Forest notes: bottle up all his emotions connect #slay

Ian had a childhood filled with hunting. While most kids were learning to ride a bike, Ian's father showed him how to track and trap. One winter day, snow started piling up through the forest, the streets of Rome, and throughout the region. The unseasonable cold billowed through the trees, and any tracks left behind were buried beneath the snow. Ian decided to make camp for the night. However, an unknown fog started to sweep across the area. The forest was filled with strange things, such as this mist that crept up amid winter's cold and animals that were there in one moment and gone in the next. This was why Ian enjoyed the forests of Rome; they were a challenge.

Ian was sitting by the fire he had built to keep himself warm on the cold winter night. The orange light from the fire radiated around him, creating a cozy atmosphere. Suddenly, he heard the soft crunch of snow, indicating that someone was approaching. Looking up, he saw a stranger standing in the woods nearby. Concerned, Ian asked, "Hey man, are you okay?". Wondering why the man was out in the freezing cold weather, Ian awaited a response.

[emissaryalder]

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Alder couldn’t suppress his breathy laugh. Quinn cut right to the chase, and in a way he wasn’t far off at all in his assessment of the situation, but Alder suspected the solution wasn’t that simple. “In essence, yes. I want all the souls you can get and I’ll use them before your body has eaten them up. In return, I can help you acquire new ones and maybe even help you strengthen you hold here. You’ve proven yourself useful, so I’d do what I can to keep you around.”

Still, Alder was beating around the bush regarding the other part. He got visibly fidgety and nervous, struggling to put his words in the right order to explain his thought process. “A long-standing deal because … because you’ll have to do it a lot. You’ll have to be my fuel pump and tank, so to speak,” Alder continues sheepishly. “Because there’s no telling how having a soul banged into me would impact my mind.” Sex wasn’t the issue. Alder had had sex before, but to him the act was just a means to an end. For this to work with Quinn, he’d need a little more which was the source of his unease. He could barely carry on this discussion without shifting his eyes away from the cubi. “If I take only what I need when I need it, then the soul’s life can be extended even if I’m siphoning from it. But channeling is a two-way street which means I may not be able to get what I needed from some quick screw. I have to be completely open to you.” Alder figured he would need to arrive at the same state Quinn got his victims to while controlling the flow of magic. “I’m talking real … intimacy.”

Channel it. Power, it always came down to fucking power, that's what everyone wanted. In case it wasn't apparent to the rest of the world, it felt clear to Quinn that wants and gluttony were at the root of everyone's desires. He'd been mortal once, consumed by whatever he could get on that would allow him to escape his skin for any period. To that end, Quinn could sympathize because everyone had their reasons for being what they were today. This witch saw the demon as a means to an end, and perhaps he was; considering what Quinn was capable of, he couldn't say he was surprised.

Hanky panky? Who the fuck was this guy? "So what, you want me to fuck a soul into you?" Quinn had never done that before; he hadn't heard of anyone who'd even tried, but maybe that was an advertisement thing. It wasn't like cubi passed out course books on what they could or couldn't do with a soul. Rumors were circulating that a necromancer had freed and bound a familiar, that the senator was free of any tether but still held her own power. The Inferno itself was gone, and the limitations that creatures like Quinn once had were falling by the wayside as more and more found purchase in the mortal realm. Quinn took to a short pace as he studied the witch for a brief moment; it wasn't like he was unattractive, kind of the opposite actually: he had that eye-bagged socially inept nerd thing going for him in spades. "What's the deal then? I bring you souls, and you keep me out of the Abyss?"

[emissaryalder]

Drake on The Winchesters set

[emissaryalder]

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Strength as a whole, a notion he held great resentment for. Alder had lost something when he got excommunicated and had been, in a sense, chasing that feeling. His attempts to hide and scheme had been found out in the end, so he knew there was no arguing with Markus. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I'm not the biggest risk taker, but when something I want is within reach, I can't help but grab it no matter the cost." If he couldn't mitigate a risk, then he'd have to figure a way to steamroll over it. At least out in Lupercal, he had a little more freedom to experiment before making big moves.

"It means a lot to know you're on my side. There's so much more I want to learn from you," Alder says honestly, his mild narcissism making him susceptible to a skilled witch's praise for his craft. "For Lupercal, and the Lupo of course." Even in private, Alder tried hard to not let his mask slip. All he did was in service to the lycans. He wanted plenty of evidence to fact floating around in case aspersions began to be cast toward him. "I'm being careful, learning from my mistakes and all that. But I must push myself too. That's the only real way to achieve mastery." Clearly, he didn't interpret Markus' words as a warning but as pure encouragement. "Where I'm at currently, I can't see myself joining another coven which isn't a problem at all. Everything is going to change soon. The pack will have its alpha. I'm readying myself to bear witness to their ascent."

"That's the foundation of any coven, strength as a whole." The mark and why families of witches began establishing themselves over places of great power, where leylines intersected, where great disasters had taken place, where they could easily access the Otherworld, and where Gods had fallen. "The problem with any witch's mark is it doesn't run in a single direction; to channel, you need a connection, and even if you remove it, you'll have left your mark. Be it visible or not." This was to say that Alder could leave evidence behind, evidence that would direct any Watcher or witch Marshal straight to him regardless of how well he hoped to cover his tracks.

"Power is always a worthy endeavor but be careful; I've seen my fair share of witches burn out because they took in more than they could handle." That was the pitiable thing about these mortal vessels; they were likely to get scorched when someone got too close to the sun. Even the elves were limited in their capacities, most of them, anyway. "You're young, ambitious. Two things that can get you killed if you don't keep yourself in check." Markus placed a hand on the other's shoulder and squeezed as he shook the younger witch lightly and gave him an appraising smile. "But not to worry, I'll watch out for you."

[emissaryalder]

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Friendly warmth was what Alder attempted to project. The sentiment wasn't exactly far off from his true feelings, but he didn't want to get close to the volatile for the sake of friendship. "If you ever do feel like an outsider, you can always come speak to me. It's important that you feel at home here in Lupercal no matter what." It was easy to be honest when the truth actually served Alder's goals. Duplicity was simply second nature since he could never be sure who was trustworthy or not. "I'm a rule observer. I've been known to bend a few in my time," he lied, leaning in closer as if he had a juicy secret to share. "If you don't believe me, I can show you all the butter packets I swiped from Waffle House. I'm set for life! But that little factoid stays between us, deal?"

Oh, now the witch was sitting; Eric almost sighed but they offered some sense of restraint because the Exile knew, that they too, could be equally as insisting. "This place is overrun with lycans, I'd like to believe I'm no longer some outsider," it was a very ignorant hope considering the side eyes Eric had often gotten since and back then the only salve had been the fact that Alek, the one who had pushed for them to be apart of the Lupo, had currently been Alpha. "So you're a rule follower?" Toying jest presented the question; Eric had enough unsavory experiences with witches as of late and he'd like to not add to that tally, attempting to feel out this witch as subtly as they attempted to feel Eric out, it seemed.

[emissaryalder]

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Alder was so close he could taste it. This latest experiment practically consumed all his spare attention while Quinn was away. In that time, Alder had studied as many texts as he could on incubus and the concept of a soul, meaning everything reported to him was within expectation. Alder scribbled furiously in his notebook as he nodded, adjusting the pseudo-math he performed in the temple through arithmancy to approximate how much use he could get from the soul. Pending he solved his final hurdle that was.

"Excellent ... about the success of your meal. The dying part is, meh? But it couldn't be helped. Don't worry though, the next one will likely have no personal connection to me. Since I don't want to waste the soul's shelf life it's probably best you stay close by..." Alder mutters, still adding to his notes. When he finally does look up at Quinn, his puzzled expression shows he's still working things out in his mind. The demon did look really good walking around Alder's space. The sunlight from the window caught Quinn's profile perfectly, nearly to an irritating degree. He could channel his incubus as is, but that was no different than summoning a familiar to Alder. He was after the pure power a soul could offer which would mean the one within Quinn wouldn't be the one that sustained him. It'd be a bit of a hassle to find fresh victims so frequently, but he would. Anything to aid the pursuit of his goals. "Like I said, I want you to stick around. I think you could be a big help to my research. I'll keep finding names for you too, but that soul that's fueling you I'm gonna need." He scratches the back of his neck. The only reason Alder hesitated to continue was because while he wasn't inexperienced, subjects of intimacy still made him feel awkward. "I want to channel it, not your power but the soul directly. I won't take it all so you can have time to get another, but if I master this, you'll be my key to a whole new market for power. If the hanky-panky is what you used to take the soul, then I hypothesize some form of contact is step number one."

It was to the demon's benefit to be efficient, to get the unsavory part of his existence done quickly. Satisfaction wasn't part of it, at least not all the time; Quinn wasn't a monster; he would take no pleasure in killing people that mattered to him; he just recognized that the glutton had choices to make. It was either him or everyone else. This witch, Alder, had his quirks, but nothing about him screamed malicious, just curious, which sometimes was just as bad. Maybe worse.

"I've heard we glow." Quinn's disposition wasn't sunny, but it brightened from time to time. But when the body was healthy, the skin had to exude it; at all times, the incubus appeared moisturized and healthy. Eyes are bright, hair is soft, and the body is completely healthy. The demon was void of any illnesses; all his neurons and synapses fired correctly. How blessed it was to have a brain that didn't deviate from the norm, the threat of damnation and constant torment from demons with powers beyond sex available to them was a bit of a bitch but Quinn had gotten used to it by now. "Digestion begins immediately," the demon offered, "from the moment a cubi consumes the soul of their victim, their body begins to work through it. Takes about a year, but you probably know that much already." Curious, he paced the other's... lab... home.... dwelling? Whatever passed for living quarters these days, just the same, it was strange to see a witch living among lycans. Useful, given this one's predilection towards demons and undoubtedly other curiosities. "Don't worry, your little friend will be dead in a couple days. I didn't leave anything left."

[emissaryalder]

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Honestly, Alder wasn't expecting Quinn to return for another day and a half. It was a pleasant surprise to accidentally find himself ahead of schedule, but the cubi's sudden return carried with it a distraction at the worst possible time. Shocked, widened eyes from behind his goggles stared excitedly at Quinn in his workshop's doorframe, those few seconds causing Alder's brew to burn. Herbal scents quickly became overshadowed by smoke, but the blase way he sent the whole pot flying out the window with a flick of his wrist (fingers crossed one of the lycans didn't try to lick that up) demonstrated his priorities.

"Now why would I send you back? You're clearly an efficient worker. Though I shouldn't be surprised, it's not like I expected you to run into any trouble." He summoned Quinn with a name in mind, a witch he met in a black market who made a passing comment to Alder a couple years ago. Of course, the question of whose soul got chosen was inconsequential. His choice may have been a little petty, but Alder’s goals had nothing to do with revenge. It seemed Quinn would fit into his plans perfectly. "Now tell me," he starts in as he haphazardly flips to an empty page in his notebook. "Is the soul whole within you or have you begun to ... metabolize it? Is that the correct term? How do you feel? Was it like a rush? Did you have to use a special position to tap them like a tree, so to speak?" With how giddy Alder was as he walked up to Quinn to get a better look, it'd be easy to miss how he quickly gave his mental wards a once over as he messily pulled his goggles into his hair. Better safe than sorry, Alder always assumed others were just as untrustworthy as he was. "You certainly look healthier, I'll give you that," he says, taking it upon himself to feel Quinn's arms some to confirm the observation.

@emissaryalder location: lupercal notes: and they were roommates

An incubus was a tool for revenge, conjure the creature, sick it on someone. Usually an ex-lover, or someone that had done something bad enough that their death warranted a complete destruction of their soul. Among the ranks of demons, cubi were the bottom feeders, sucking up the scraps, and doing what the others couldn't. Quinn couldn't say he enjoyed it, but if he had to plow the soul out of someone to stay here, rather than the other side, then that's what the demon was going to do. Alder had conjured him for the same reason every witch conjured an incubus: go eat someone's soul. What was strange was the man had asked him to come back when he was done.

"Well, it's done. You wanted me to come back, so here I am." This witch kept his thoughts closely guarded, most people were an open book, something that the incubus could flip through whenever he needed. That wasn't the case with this one so there was no real way of knowing what Alder was thinking. Quinn had the thought that his guard would probably slip up when his legs were shaking and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head, but as long as the witch didn't try anything then Alder could keep his secrets to himself. "If you plan on sending me back, I won't make it easy for you." The witch wasn't as experienced as the ones he'd come across in the past, but there was obvious talent in someone who was already bridging the schools."

[emissaryalder]

who?: @lainxsolus where?: the streets outside his witchy cottage

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Alder wasn't the type to do busy work, but he'd been spending more and more time in the garden he cultivated by his magical workshop. He'd managed to grow a few key herbs and roots, but the concoctions he made were effectively useless if they went bad while sitting on the shelf. Alder was desperate to see the fruits of his labor in action which was why he waved down Lain, the first lycan who walked by his shed, and approached them with pep in his step. "Hey, you look like the perfect candidate to help me with my Lupercalia prep. You want to try something for me?" The bowl contained an earthy green liquid he hoped would give lycans a little extra fighting spirit. When they duked it out for the position of alpha, Alder wanted them to be at their physical peak so the strongest wolf rose to the top of the heap. "Something I cooked up to increase circulation, provide a boost in energy, and maybe even grant a little luck. I want to do everything I can to make the event the best this city has ever seen. Won't you take one sip and tell me what you think?"

[emissaryalder]

who?: @eleanorxvalter where?: the waffle house

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She was hard not to notice, and it was more than how out of place she looked. It went beyond her clothing being too high class for the dingy diner or the way she drifted passed every patron as if they didn't exist. To Alder, what made her most stand out was her wild presence that went beyond most lycans. He made no effort to hide his staring, though he did attempt to reign in his excitement. "It's none of my business and Lupercal seems to be open to all sorts. I should know, the city has embraced me since I arrived. Which leads me to my question." Alder stands to interrupt her exit, not wanting her to slip away. "Who are you?" he questions, hoping his pushiness didn't read as aggression. It's not so much that he wanted to be a bother, he felt he had to because of all the volatiles he's laid eyes on in Rome, she was the strongest so far. "And I only mean that I feel I'd know if you've been around. I make it a point to try and learn all the faces that walk these streets."

[emissaryalder]

who?: @howlforahookup where?: all fours, but he has my tolerance

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Alder really didn't like to drink, something he figured he wouldn't be able to hide for long with how frequently he came to these lycan hangouts. Even though he always nursed a club soda, there was no slipping his lack of alcohol past their noses. At least, he assumed that was the problem and got himself a proper gin and tonic that night. But it didn't feel like the problem was resolved. "Wait don't go Mr. Bartender. You've got to help me figure this out. See? I'm ... assimilating!" Perhaps it was tacky to hound a busy bartender for attention, but if downing the rest of his drink didn't immediately attract a buddy or two he wasn't sure what else he could do. "I'm giving my all to the city to help prepare for a new alpha, and it barely feels like I have any friends. Is it me? You can tell me if it's me," Alder sloppily laments, disheveling his hair some as he falls against the bar and rakes his hand through his strands, tossing Damian his best "talk to me pls" eyes.

[emissaryalder]

who?: @howlinglucas where?: the fairgrounds

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Alder liked to perpetuate an accessible reputation for himself. He served at the behest of all of Lupercal. His magic was meant to help after all.

While Alder wanted to maintain his reputation as a witch in service to all of Lupercal, he still had a bad habit of disproportionately giving his attention to certain residents. Those with exceptional power or enticing reputations themselves. Lucas possessed both. "C'mon, I promise to stop being so cryptic once we get there," he says cheerily, leading the lycan across the fairgrounds. Alder still attempted to maintain the facade that the other was roped into his experiment due to coincidence. Lucas had collided into Alder and caused him to spill important ingredients after all. A small favor is a fair price to make it up to one of the city's emissaries. "You should get excited. This is prep for the festival. Well, everything for the next few weeks is. I'm incredibly excited to meet our new alpha. Isn't the build-up to Lupercalia supposed to be a happy time for you?"

[emissaryalder]

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Alder has become accustomed to the occasional bouts of aggression directed towards him. It just came with the territory of being surrounded by wolves. But that’s not why he’s unfazed by the other’s bristly demeanor. Once Alder set his mind on something it was impossible to derail him no matter the obstacle, and he decided that he liked the volatiles a lot. “Hey, that’s the spirit! You do belong here the same as anyone else. Rumors be damned.” Of course, Alder hadn’t heard any specifically, but disarmament was his chosen first step to get closer to someone. “Even though I’ll probably feel like an outsider until the alpha rises, I don’t want to treat any resident like one. My magic in service to Lupercal extends to everyone,” he says earnestly, taking a seat despite not getting that official invitation he was hoping for.

Eric blinked, they'd not trust any witch as far as they could throw one and here was a supposed Lupercal emissary strolling up and spouting nonsense to him. Their brows raising was synonymous to a dog raising their hackles, filled with judgement and this blase sense of fear; they'd survived worse than some covenless witch but they didn't appreciate being aligned in this one's sight of curiosity. Or, well, fascination, as he had so eloquently put it. "Who said anything about me being an outsider?" Pointed words but casually stated, Eric accepts the coffee, brings it up to their face, but they don't drink until the other answers.

[emissaryalder]

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“Yeah you’re right. I’m just an okay guy, not particularly good at all. I’ll toss a buck to a panhandler but sometimes I don’t wash my hands after I pee.” Alder even gives the demon a slant of his mouth and a gentle shrug. An odd response, but the unassuming weirdo was a much easier role to play than crazed heretic witch. He did worry a bit though. It seemed Alder’s inclinations lined up with the demon in front of him more than he wanted others to know. “Blood is so intimate, I would never take it without permission,” he lies again, this time with an obvious chuckle. “But with so many people getting into the spirit of the night, maybe you have a point. There’s so much flowing freely that me sneaking a few ounces out shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, most is going to end up nourishing some vampire or staining your clothes. You and I could have a little fun with it.”

"Guys that call themselves good guys are the worst kinds of guys; if you're going to lie, try something more convincing." Arturo quipped playfully; though everything about this witch screamed socially inept, the violent creature played it off like he was just giving him some helpful advice. Avery had a similar front; he smiled for the Dahlia coven, and he pretended to play by their rules; then, when it suited him, he stomped heads into the ground and felt vindicated doing so. What a man. "Relax, that was me taking it easy." Everyone was always so sensitive, was it really Arturo's fault that he just thought people's insides looked better on their outsides? Unlikely, well, potentially. "Blood's common, easy. A catalyst, an amplifier, a tether. If you want to take anything of real value from someone, it's a good place to start."

[emissaryalder]

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It took Alder a moment to realize when Vidal said he had to “make some friends” he meant it literally. He’d seen a lot, but never anything like the bug. Even without a close look, Alder could see it wasn’t some altered toy or ancient artifact, it was a legitimate automaton. A magical automaton. This guy had a brain on him, which made him that much more interesting to Alder.

“Good thing there are no demons in here. I don’t even think I’d want someone’s familiar sniffing around on their behalf. This temple should remain a safe space for witches like us,” he said, smiling widely as he gave Vidal his undivided attention. “You’re right though, I don’t know you very well so we should change that. We’re both new, both fans of an informative book, and we could probably even help each other out in many ways. I never say no to a friend.” Alder couldn’t tell if his face was normal happy or manic happy. Expressions could be so tricky, especially when he got excited about a new person. He picks up a nearby quill and balances on his fingertip, making it spin on its point before pressing down slightly causing a speck of blood to bubble on his skin. “In fact, we could use my blood to do a little joint casting. What do you say? It’d be good to dip your toes in, and I’m sure it's not a violation of your coven rules."

"It wasn't like that for me," Vidal said simply, "being on my own." There was a chittering under his shirt before a mechanical Bug made out of a spark plug, refrigerator coils, some LEDS, and other random parts crawled out of his shirt. Reminiscent of a horned beetle, its wings spread and buzzed about the witch's head; Vidal laughed lightly as it chirped. "Right, right, sorry:" Vidal apologized to the invention, "I haven't been alone. I managed to make some friends." The Bug landed in his hair, something Vidal would have to untangle them from later, a nuisance, but he always took it as a sign of affection. After his mother passed there wasn't anyone left that could really understand him, he had friends, but they were human. Neighbors, but they were always whispering about him.

Vidal could be naive, but he was far from stupid and knew when someone was making fun of him. Nervously, the witch shifted from one foot to the other. "I don't think you know enough about me to say I'm privileged, or average." Vidal looked at the stacks, then back to Alder. Erik Alstroemeria was the strongest witch in a generation, a visionary. The Amaranthus became the most powerful coven without ever using blood magic. "Demons promise a lot," Vidal said with a nod, "but that doesn't mean you should believe them."

[emissaryalder]

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Alder could feel the moment their consciousness became one. When he played his game in his former coven, it was more of a battle. Their specialty school was one of the trickier to master and training kids in the art was especially difficult, but by framing the practice as a game where exchanges of wit, distractions, and other skills honed in the quest to achieve mastery of illusion were used to delve deeper into each other’s minds, control could be taught hands-on. Alder was no exception, but he wasn’t playing against another witch attempting to break through his subconscious. Venerio was open for him, eager to go deeper, and infatuated with magic. It made him the perfect mark to practice with. If Alder could pull this off with a vampire then surely the other species would give him too much trouble.

“Hey, it’s your memory. You’re the one driving this train, I’m simply along for the ride. Or I guess I’m the dirty engine boy shoveling coal. Yeah, that’s more accurate,” he says with a warm chuckle, unable to not marvel at his illusion even though it was in no way the most intricate he’d conjured. But the scene was exactly as Venerio remembered, and even included precise details he couldn’t consciously remember either. That’s how Alder always managed to win when he played, he knew how to exploit the fickleness of memory. For all the room’s accuracies, one minor detail was altered: the presence of Alder’s sigil. It would be small and unnoticeable yet smattered across every inch of the illusion, blending perfectly with the memory. It appeared on the pages of written word, in ink splats, on the ceiling, and even behind Venerio's eyelids to flash with each blink. The subtlety was key because even if Venerio was unaware, the sigil was getting branded into the vampire subconscious. The more memories they visited the more effective this game would be.

“What is real anyway? Reality is what we make of it. You can feel it happening, so is it truly fake? If your body and mind can’t tell the difference, then it’s just as real as when you were here last,” he says, a genuine smile on his face from how pleased Venerio seemed to be. “I don’t know if I know how to love. I suppose I’ve never really given myself the chance, or met the right person.” Love was a powerful emotion, but Alder figured he’d have to meet someone who wasn’t a commodity to him to feel it. “You seem like a lover. I don’t know, you give off that vibe. I bet you’ve had countless epic loves, huh?” he questioned, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “We can revisit your greatest hits if you like.”

Acrid blood and iron seemed to condense across the tarmac of Venerio's tongue as Alder whispered an incantation before his very eyes. Venerio had spent centuries shaking hands, making deals, and using eye contact as leverage. There was something there buried behind the witch's gaze, there was what Alder said, what he meant, and what he wanted; three things that didn't exactly marry. Venerio remained trusting, and naturally, he was quite the whore so when a handsome but aloof stranger placed his hands upon the vampire, he'd long learned to just go with it. Sometimes to disastrous consequences, but what could he say? Venerio was very much his father's son.

Under the weight of Alder's words, the world seemed to shift as the part fell away. A haze laid across Venerio's eyes as though a miasma had fallen upon him, it was heavy like a blanket and veiled everything though Alder was still quite clear to him. Many years lay between this present moment of Hakanalia, and the memory which Alder sought to invoke. Venerio's forehead tipped against the witch's as he exhaled dead air into the space between them; his body no longer thought to do such a thing; that habit had been broken over five hundred years ago. Still, to indeed exist in the moment that Alder had called for, Venerio needed to breathe. The vampire's eyes had closed, his hands had landed on the witch's arms, and when he looked up again there was no winter's cold. Instead, they stood in his room overlooking the street below Salvador's estate, where he'd been raised many years ago.

"How did-" Venerio started as he parted from the witch to take a step away and look around. His hand moved to his chest, and there he felt his heart beating again. In front of the window were scrawled poems, scratched, rewritten, crumpled, and wept over. "it isn't real." It was a marvel, though, because when the vampire's fingers traced the parchment, the memory of this very day was clear as day. It was rough and smooth all at once; Venerio knew that elsewhere in the home, his father was entertaining guests; even now, he could hear the faint murmur of voices, he could smell the scents coming up from the kitchens, and he knew that later there would be a bloodbath. "Impressive," Venerio remarked as he looked back toward the witch. This was the day he got crabs for the first time. Memories. "Have you ever been in love?"

[emissaryalder]

Drake Rodger