#{ Anyway *SLAMS DOWN ALICE REDEMPTION ARC START* }

[barmeciide]

@thorn-kissed​ - Cutscene reached (Alice)

Selected Route: Uriel 

Progression: Currently moving towards good/perfect ending. 

Characters: Orpheus, Alice, Lilliale. 

    The honied aroma of copper wafts from the delicate glass held casually between the man’s fingers, and tickles Alice’s nose. The sleek, line-work tattoos on Orpheus’s fingers appear as if they’re crawling up and down his hand with every gentle roll of his wrist that makes the thick liquid just barely contained within sway softly against the edge; thick stains coating the rim of the glass where blood licks, and then tumbles down back the curve. There’s a moment where Alice’s eyes are drawn to it - not out of desperation or hunger; though a far younger vampire would have been driven to madness by now with how heavy the smell was in the small office, but rather out of a desire not to gaze upwards into the other’s eyes that he can almost feel stripping away every layer of skin from his frigid body and taut muscles. He knows Orpheus can feel his hesitation, and it’s not simply a thought or belief he harbors, but rather he knows, without a doubt that, to the other man, it’s quite tangible despite his best efforts to shove it deep within the recesses of his bones. Even without meeting his gaze, he knows how Orpheus is looking at him - can picture clearly within his own mind how he sits upon the velvet cushions of a chair that very well could be older than himself, behind a mahogany desk worth more than its weight in gold, the wine glass between his fingers while he leans his chin against his other hand. How scarlet locks fall over the prominent curves of his collarbones and lick at the skin of his exposed chest where his suit has been unbuttoned, is enough to tell him that much. Orpheus’s golden gaze has always been piecing, but he’s never felt the sense of distrust that oozes from it directed at himself until now. 

      “So, he found out?” Orpheus’s voice is always alluring deep, and it rumbles within the confines of the small room, but never seeps outside of it - not with how the walls are padded, and he can feel the influence of the other’s essence bleeding over every inch of this little world that’s his and his alone. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before he did.” He speaks casually, as if this is little more than a discussion about the weather or an amusing customer. To Orpheus, Alice imagines that’s all it is - a fleeting bit of entertainment that’s barely even deserving of his time or attention. Just little a game to keep himself occupied. That’s all it ever was to him, he thinks. But he knows he’s not much different. How many little ‘games’ of the other’s had he personally entertained since he had been turned? He’s lost count. There was a time when he had enjoyed it to a certain extent. After all, people made his skin crawl, and his lingering hatred of them had never quite left what was left of him, but it’s mellowed with time. And there was a part of him that couldn’t quite stomach the thought of doing the same thing again - just hundreds of years later. And oh he’s sickeningly aware of the irony of the fact that it’s his own fault Uriel is even in this situation to begin with. What if he hadn’t obeyed back then? What would have happened to them. Surely, the three of them would be long dead by now. 

     “Yes,” his voice is dry as it leaves his throat. He can taste ichor and bile on the back of his tongue as he forces out an answer. There’s a part of him that wants to lie, but knows it would be pointless. Orpheus would know. It wasn’t possible to keep a secret from a man knew your every thought, and the thoughts of everyone around you. He already knew. He likely wasn’t fishing for an answer, but it was best to give him one. Slowly, he lifts his head - long, blond hair falling in front of crimson irises that lack the humor and amusement that might have been there months or even weeks ago. But Orpheus’s expression hasn’t changed once - not since the day he had met the man. He always had a smooth smile on his face, and his eyes were always hauntingly hollow. There was always a trace of possessiveness reflected in the euphoric bliss that he regarded everything with. Everything is some carefully planned out game to him - the pieces are his to move as he wishes, and nothing happens outside of his control. It’s predictable. Alice knows because it’s always been that way. It’s one of the benefits of being an older member of the coven - knowing how Orpheus operates. What is and isn’t allowed, but is never spoken about. 

     “What a heartfelt reunion for someone who lacks a heart to even get the chance to have.” A laugh that isn’t a laugh echoes in the depths of Orpheus’s throat as he lifts the glass to his lips, and pours the contents down his throat - his tongue licking off the blood that clings to his fangs. A week ago, Alice might have laughed. A week ago, he might have found it amusing. Now, it just makes him feel empty, and he only nods his head slowly. “Alas, much as I enjoy listening to the panicked thoughts rushing through his head, they are becoming a bit...bothersome.” The sole of Orpheus’s boots click loudly against the hardwood flooring as he stands gracefully from his chair - glass still held between his fingers as he walks over to Alice. “It seems he’s feeling a bit conflicted as of late. I suppose it would be difficult to choose between your dead wife, and your sworn loyalty to me.” Alice feels a shudder run down his spine as Orpheus’s reaches out to run the tips of his fingers along his neck as he paces around him in a circle. “I mean, she’s already died once, so really, the choice should be painfully clear. But, still, my darling Uriel is struggling to make it.”   

     He feels the press of Orpheus’s nails against his skin, and the sensation of their tips digging into his flesh as warmth trickles out from his throat where the other man’s hand lingers. But he doesn’t so much as flinch, or shift his head to watch Orpheus. He doesn’t even move as the other leans in, and he feels him lick away the faint trace of blood from his skin. “I detest the idea of losing something that’s mine. So, what should we do this time? Should we burn her alive again? We could come up with something a bit more creative this time around. I am beginning to running out of materials, it’s so very difficult to come across creatures that can survive the process. Perhaps I should turn her, and use her as one of my test subjects?” He reaches out, cupping Alice’s chin between his fingers to force the other to look at him.

    “I don’t think that’s possible.” He’s surprised at how calm his voice is, and equally as relieved when Orpheus releases him, pacing back over to his desk to set the glass down upon it, but he can see hairline breaks in it that he knows very well could have been his own bones had Orpheus not harbored enough sense of mercy and level-headedness to walk away from him. 

     “I imagine, unfortunately, that you’re correct. A shame. He would have been able to stay with her forever if I could.” Orpheus speaks as if he would have been doing Uriel a great favor. “Oh well, kill her for me then. She’s an eyesore, and I can’t stand the sight of her anymore. Uriel’s always had terrible taste, and it shows.” He gags as he sits back down. “You’ve already killed her once before, it should be simple to do it again. You’re dismissed, I suspect you won’t fail me. After all, you never have before.” He waves his wrist, and Alice wastes no time slipping out from the room, and slamming the door shut behind him with as much grace as he can muster. If he had a beating heart, it would be racing, and if he had a working set of lungs, he imagined they would be heaving right now. But all he has are the memories of what those those things felt like, and that’s enough to make him take a few paces away before leaning his back against the wall, and digging his nails into the fabric of his shirt. 

     Never, in all of the years he’d been alive, had he ever been frightened of Orpheus. And it makes him wonder how Crow and Remus can be subjected to that man’s ire so often yet remain entirely sane when he holds all of their lives in his hands, and one simple click of his fingers is enough to crush them in whatever manner he so desires. With a shudder, he slides down the wall - thighs plopping awkwardly against the wooden hallway as he lifts his hands to ruffle up his silky hair. If he thinks too much about it, Orpheus could end his life then and there, but it’s impossible for him not to. If he doesn’t kill Melany, he’ll die. If he does, Uriel will never forgive him again. Uriel might very well die this time - isn’t it foolish of him to think that he cares about his own life more than he does about a wife he’s already watched die once before? And, this time, frankly, he doesn’t have any desire to kill her. He’d messed up, hadn’t he? He should have never reached out to her. He should have never let her go into that room. He had known Uriel would find out then and there, but he still brought her to his room. Why? Because he felt guilty. Because he wanted Uriel to be happy. 

      The sound of footsteps yanks him violently away from his racing thoughts, and his lips pull back on instinct - fangs glittering in the utter darkness that persists as his pupils narrow, and every muscle in his body contracts as he rises to his feet. But the tension in his shoulders ebbs as he listens more closely, and instead of red, he sees white. But those golden eyes are nearly the same - less full of ire and control, but still utterly unreadable. “Why are you out here, Lillie?” He doesn’t even try to force his voice to its naturally higher pitch, or push a smile onto his features as the other man stops beside him. “Are you running errands for Felicity again? I’m not in the mood to help her right now, so go ask Crow.” Yet, he feels a strange sense of relief not being left on his own, even if there’s still a budding sense of distrust. Lilliale’s position isn’t much different than his own - the option to disobey Orpheus didn’t exist amongst the coven to begin with.

      “You’ll make her sad if you say that,” Lilliale’s cheerful voice is a stark contrast to how Alice actually feels right now, and he can’t stop himself from sneering at the taller man. “Though, I’m sorry to inform you that’s not why I’m here. My room this is way, remember? Yours is on the other side.” He makes a haphazard, and rather showy display as he points out the directions by crossing his hands in front of his body. It takes Alice a moment to register that he’s right, and he quickly yanks himself from the wall, and slips past Lilliale only to feel the other’s hand reach out, and grab him firmly, but gently by the arm. 

       “What -” he growls, long nails flexing against his palm as crimson irises flare in the darkness, but there’s something about Lilliale that keeps him from lashing out.  

      “Will you answer a question for me?” A smile settles easily upon  Lilliale’s features when Alice nods, and he releases his hold on the other. “Tell me, would you die for Uriel?” 

      There’s a flicker of surprise in Alice’s eyes as they widen, and he feels as if the floor has fallen away from beneath his feet. Long lashes fluttering as he stares into the depths of the darkness that greets him -  Lilliale is gone. He can’t see him even as he whirls around in circles attempting to do so, nor can he hear or smell him - it was as if he had never been there at all. His name is on Alice’s tongue - tempted to call out to see if he had simply been a figment of his imagination, but he stops. His arm feels warm where Lilliale had grabbed him, and, on instinct, his frigid fingers move upwards to touch the fabric of his sleeve. Like Remus, Lilliale has always felt oddly warm. And that sudden realization unsettles him all the more as he stares down the hallway. The other’s question still ringing in his head long after he turns, and returns to the falsified safety of his own room.