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Realistic or Modern Court of Blood [An Original Vampire Roleplay]

FaeFoolery

FaeFoolery

Evil Goddess
Court of Blood​
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In the late 1800s, Vlad Dracula Tepes, ruler of the Court of Blood, was killed by the hands of the Harkers, Quincey Morris, and Van Helsing. Since that day, now 2024, the court has been fighting for who is to take the throne next. There are a few major contenders, such as Mircalla Karnstein's bloodline, Francis Varney's bloodline, the Bathorys and the Ruthvens. All of these are the most ancient vampire families, all four families believe they deserve to take up the throne now that the Tepes bloodline has supposedly ended. The four ancient families are not the only vampires contending for the throne, however. Several new vampire families have found their way into the court, slowly garnering influence to be as powerful as the ancients.
The Court of Blood rules over the supernatural forces on the mortal plane. Witches, werewolves, and the ones who traditionally run the court, vampires. They make sure the supernatural forces remain hidden and powerful, and all the families on the court have their own schemes running in private. The Throne of Night signifies the leader of this court, but it has been empty since Dracula's demise. While many vampires contend for the throne, the witches, werewolves, and boogeymen who haunt the night see a potential opportunity to end up on the court as well. While many such entities work for the court as agents for various families, some aim to gain seats on the council.
What will you be? An ancient vampire, contending for power? A fresh-blooded vampire, hungering for prestige as well as blood? Or another creature of the night, working for the vampires or seeking power of your own?​
 
The Court of Blood was not known for staying in one place. Technically, it was located somewhere in the forests of eastern Europe, but sometimes it was spotted in the Americas, or Japan, or really anywhere that one looked for it. Entrances to the court could be found all over the world, portals almost. The court was many centuries old and whatever magic enchanted it was long forgotten but never faltering. A massive castle spanned a large portion of the forest, towers rising above the trees and old stone stained black by time and darkness. Although the castle had so many entrances, it was nigh impossible to breach without an invitation.
Entering into the castle from one of these many entrances was Lady Sorana Moarte, an youthful looking vampire of a lesser bloodline who had been turned by a dark presence in a nunnery many years ago. She stood tall in stature, despite her average height. The vampiress moved with grace and a straight posture, her long black dress trailing behind her and a veil concealing her face. She had curled black hair that went down to her shoulders and her skin was as lifeless and pale as one might expect from a vampire who had not fed in a while. She had been busy, trying to tie her strings onto every egotistical man who thought he should have power over the court. Oh, how she loathed those who sought power to control others in such a crass fashion. She herself would make a much better ruler than half the bloodlusted power-hungry monsters on this court, or at least that was what she believed. Not that she thought she could claim the Throne of Night so easily as a lesser vampire. The others would never respect her, they would never listen to her. That was why she needed someone who would let her puppeteer them from the shadows. She had a few ideas in mind for who she might try to dig her claws into, but she was still unsure, and so she had not yet voiced support for any particular vampire to wind up on the Throne of Night.
As she walked into the presently empty courtroom, Sorana's eyes drifted between all the empty seats. There were a couple dozen of them, enough for all the greater family members and their chosen agents to be present for council meetings. There were also a few rows of chairs for lesser vampires like her who had made enough of a name for themselves to end up on the council. Those chairs were much lower than those of the greater families. In the center of all the seats was a massive marble black throne, engravings of vampiric imagery and symbols etched all over it. A part of her contemplated sitting in it, just to see what it was like, but that would be a great enough crime for the other vampires to tie her up outside and wait for the sun to rise.
There was supposed to be a council meeting soon, and Sorana was early as she always liked to be the first to arrive. This time of year, many of the greater vampires were out wreaking havoc, so she knew only a handful of vampires and their agents would be attending this upcoming meeting. She expected it to be a night of bickering over who had the sharpest fangs with nothing real being accomplished, even though there was a specific topic for the meeting: what to do about the growing threat of the Harkers' descendants.
Sorana personally felt unthreatened by the growing gang of vampire hunters let by the children of the Harkers, Morrises, and Van Helsing's grandchild. She thought they were children messing with forces they did not understand, and they would one day invade the court and be torn apart for it. Some vampires were concerned, though. After all, Dracula had been killed by the Morrises, Harkers, and Van Helsing. Who was to say their descendants wouldn't be able to take on any member of the court?
Sorana had been around long enough to know that no vampire lasted forever, not Dracula Tepes, not Mircalla Karnstein, no one. Some hero always came along eventually and beheaded them. It was dumb luck on the heroes' part, not some innate skill at killing vampires.
She lounged in her seat at the court, waiting for the others to arrive. It was only twenty minutes until the council meeting was supposed to begin.
 


















Ch. 1 - The Start of It All...





"Mnnnn..."
Heavenly Karnstein whimpered at the sight of the place where the Court of Blood was being held at. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she gulped audibly. Then, her fiancée, Ulric, grabbed her hand and looked at her with a soft smile. "It's going to be fine, my dear Angel...! I'll be here with you every step of the way! I hope there won't be anyone bullying you..." Ulric comforted Heavenly, giving her a kiss on the forehead. Heavenly blushed like the innocent little bean she is. She took a deep breath in...then she exhaled deeply. The two then walked inside.



When the two teenagers got inside, they spotted another vampire: Lady Sorana Moarte. Ulric narrowed his eyes at the female. 'Ugh...guess we're not the only one...' He thought to himself. He looked towards Heavenly, who was hiding behind his back. He chucked softly before turning around and wrapped his arms around her waist. "It's okay...!" He softly said as he kissed Heavenly on her head. Heavenly blushed slightly before she smiled sweetly. "Maybe we should go say hello or something...?" She signed wearing a confused smile on her face. Ulric scoffed. "Tch...I don't know about that...what if she bullies you for the way you look...?" He says with a serious look.




























boba date (cute music)













♡coded by uxie♡

 
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    Rowan tugged at the collar of the cloak he was wearing. It was a lot less comfortable than his own and, on top of that, Cora had made him wear an ornate silver chain around his neck as well as bothered the servants to add a silver clasp to the stifling ensemble. It annoyed him that she seemed to think he could draw attention at the meeting. He was the one that was supposed to be protecting her. But after all her persisting, he'd finally agreed. Even though he knew fully well that he could immediately smite anyone dumb enough to so much as glance his direction too long.
    "You look lovely!"
    Rowan looked up as Cordelia descended the staircase in a gown her stepmother definitely had not approved for the meeting. "You look...like you want to give your stepmother a heart attack," he replied with a disapproving look. But he couldn't help grinning slightly. That woman was a menace and he shared his best friend's hatred toward her. After reaching the floor, she spun slowly. "The bitch deserves it," she said with a smile as she linked her arm with his. "Shall we?"

    The group walked in silence. Cordelia's stepmother led the way, her heels clacking angrily as they approached the looming castle. Rowan knew there would be hell to pay when they returned home, but the woman was currently more concerned with arriving to the meeting in plenty of time to scope out the other attendees. He felt Cora's arm ever so slightly tighten around his as each step carried them closer to the lion's den. He squeezed hers reassuringly in response as they approached one of the towering black doors. Cordelia's stepmother waved her hand dismissively and the heavy door creaked open of its own accord as they found themselves in the court room.
 
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The Black Dahlia















L

ady Dulcamara Amaranth, Viscountess of Bathory










pureblood vampire - 222 - she/her



It was a clear, moonlit night, and the cold of oncoming Winter was just beginning to show in the biting wind that raced through the streets of Tallinn.

The short, pale-haired girl walked with a purposeful stride, heeled boots clicking on the pavement and head bent low against the draft. She did this to avoid drawing attention and appearing suspicious as, in truth, vampires didn't really feel the cold.

It was still relatively early in the evening, but the clubs where young people liked to dance away the hours until dawn were already starting to attract some early birds, the sounds of identically boring music tracks booming awkwardly into the quiet night.

In an alley behind one such club, she found what she was looking for- a young man standing alone, leaning up against a wall as he smoked a cigarette and idly scrolled through his phone.

She walked up to him, pulling down her hood as she went.

"Vabandage, kas teil on aega?"* she asked, flashing a smile. Without looking up from his little screen, the man replied "Kell on 21:15." The vampire gritted her teeth. There were many things she loved about this new, modern age, but the way humans were constantly glued to their little magic boxes and refused to ever make eye contact was not one of them.

"Ja kas te saaksite mulle öelda, kust ma siin jooki saaksin? Ma olen kuivanud,"** she added as she drew closer, pushing the phone firmly down with one hand.

Irritated, the young man finally raised his eyes to hers and, once his gaze met her searing, fiery stare, he stopped caring about Candy Crush or Instagram.

"Nüüd, kummardu lahkelt, et saaksin juua,"*** she ordered. The man obligingly lowered his head so that she could reach and, for the merest instant, the white gleam of fangs flashed in the streetlight before she sank them into his neck.

Amaranth drank deeply- it had been a while since she'd last fed, and she would need all her energy for the Council meeting that night.

When she left the alleyway a short while later, the man was slumped weakly on the ground- drained, but very much alive. Not killing human victims was one of the most important Council rules- especially since the hunters had begun their latest bloody campaign; the vampires didn't want to draw unnecessary attention.

The young man would wake with no memory of the incident, and the puncture wounds would heal before he could even notice them, though perhaps for a few days he would be a little less inclined to fixate on his phone.

Mara sighed- the humans' addiction to their technology made them weak-willed and incredibly easy to hypnotize, because it was essentially like they were already surrendering their free will and allowing themselves to be hypnotized by their little screens voluntarily.

She knew she should be happy for it- since humans were vampires' prey, it made the feeding process now almost entirely without risk outside of being spotted by a passerby or hunter and, in the past, strong-willed humans who couldn't be hypnotized had caused a great many incidents but, somehow, the whole thing still made her angry.

She was a predator, and there was no thrill in simply feeding on cattle. Once in a while, though she knew the Council would frown upon such thoughts, she wanted a challenge.

*****​

A short while later, the Bathory Heir found herself in a familiar park in the Old City. The small plaza with the stone fountain had stood here since Tallinn was just a cluster of medieval buildings, and it held one of the original entrances to the Court of Blood.

Amaranth stepped forward, reality bending around her as the magic that protected the Court recognized her. One moment, she was standing in a moonlit plaza, the cold wind gently lifting strands of her pale hair, and the next she was standing in the underbelly of a grand castle made of stone as dark as night.

The vampire made her way with practiced ease through the corridors, her feet automatically carrying her to where she needed to go.

As she walked, anticipation began to rise in her stomach. Not nervousness- the Bathory Heir had too much poise for that-, but a certain tension nonetheless. When she arrived at the councilchamber, she found that she had miscalculated and gotten there early.

She nodded briefly to Sorana and Heavenly, as well as to Cordelia and Renoir, keeping her expression carefully neutral as she sat herself beside the larger chairs that would soon be occupied by her mother and aunt, waiting for the remainder of the Court to arrive.


*Excuse me, could you tell me the time?
**And could you tell me where I can get a drink around here? I'm parched.
***Now, kindly bend down so I can take a drink.













♡coded by uxie♡
 
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    "Really? You hunters keep sliver bolts pre-loaded now? Not holy water soaked wooden ones?" Rennick asked with a chuckle, his attitude all too casual as he yanked the shiny arrow from where it had embedded into his shoulder. He idly twirled the offending bolt between his fingers, feeling the slight sizzle on his skin as the crimson coated tip glinted in the dusky light. "It's not just because of me, right? Because if so, that's kinda flattering."

    No answer came from the hunter's mouth—not because he didn't want to speak, but moreso because of the supernatural vice grip crushing his vocal cords.

    This one had been too easy; Perhaps he hadn't finished his training yet? It was probably revenge that drove him to ambush the 'Huntersbane Hound' then, despite the fact that his name alone should have been a good enough deterrent. But even with the element of surprise, the slayer-in-training still found himself on his knees like so many others before him, his slick sanguine blood dripping down his jacket and soaking into the pavement of the grungy back alley that would soon become his grave.

    The dim buzzing light from a shop's back entrance and the occasional headlights of a passing car were the only sources of illumination, keeping the grizzly scene mostly shrouded in shadow. It was likely because the human couldn't see too well that he failed so quickly, but on the other hand Rennick could barely think with the smell of the nearby bags of trash invading his senses.

    When a sudden vibration rumbled from his pocket and took him out of the moment, a little huff escaped the wolf man as he reached his free hand down to fish out the device. His bloody sharp-nailed fingers glided across the glassy surface, leaving red tinted smears on the inert screen. A few taps and one dreadfully simple password later, the clinical white luminescence painted his face neon as a series of messages assaulted him.

    Apparently he was 'late' for another 'job', and was 'ruining his family's plans'.

    Before he could respond, a sharp pain lanced through his forearm, followed by a flow of his own thick blood running down his arm and staining it reddish-black. His gaze was drawn downwards to where a dagger greeted him, spiking from one side of his arm and out of the other—a last ditch attempt by the hunter to free himself.

    Sucking in a breath, he replaced the grimace that had appeared on his face with his usual lazy grin, a single-note laugh bubbling up from his throat. "Okay, okay, I get it. You want to hurry this up. I mean, I have places to be too, so fine by me."

    With far too little effort for so gruesome an act, a splash of lifeblood and bits of trachea flew through the crisp night air as it was quite literally torn out, arcing across the alleyway before splattering against the brick edifice behind them, painting it like a morbid canvas of mortal death. But now came the most dreaded part of battle.

    The clean up.


    ///​


    The moon had ascended quite a bit higher into the sky by the time Rennick had finally finished up and found his way to the Court of Blood. He arrived to the council meeting place much like he arrived to most prissy formal events: unfashionably late and covered in someone else's blood. This time, the someone in question happened to be the previous owner of his brand new pair of gloves.

    Pulling the sleek black leather tighter around his wrists as he walked towards one of the castle's side entrances, he couldn't help but glance at the emblem etched on the back of them. The Holmwoods. That was one family crest that everybody would be seeing a lot less of very soon, with only one or two members remaining. Once the final Holmwoods were crossed off, it would just be the Harkers, Morrises, Van Helsing wannabes, militant priests and nuns, naïve upstart hunters, and the slew of others with a burning hatred for supernatural beings to deal with. An easy task, all things considered.

    The sharp, grating sound of steel being drawn snapped Rennick from his ruminations. With a curious tilt of his head, he flicked his crimson eyes up to the two guards in front of him—dhampirs by the smell of them—who didn't seem to take kindly to his presence. Understandable really, since he was clad head-to-toe in the apparel of a blood-soaked monster hunter.

    Coolly and causally, he lifted his hands as a sign of non-aggression before tugging the fabric of his face mask lower. The usual lazy smile that painted his features widened into a full-toothed grin to show off the inhuman and quite intimidating set of sharp canine teeth he possessed: adequate proof that he wasn't some overly-confidant hunter assaulting the Court of Blood on his lonesome.

    "Easy. I'm a Kaltenbrun. My ancestors pissed on these walls, the whole place is marked with my family's scent. I think I'm allowed to enter." he said with a wink, pushing one of the guard's sword arms down as he stepped up to them. "Besides, if I were a hunter that wanted to attack the Court, I would've just used the secret lakeside entrance. You guys should really post some guards there, by the way."

    A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he made his way inside. If there was actually a secret entrance, he had no idea where it was, but there was no doubt it would make the guards' night a bit more interesting having to report to their superiors and search for it. As he strode into the council chamber, his hypersensitive sense of smell was immediately overwhelmed. Outside, scents were able to disperse and diffuse naturally. Inside, they collected and concentrated, creating an oppressive and disorienting mix. And in here, there were a lot of smells, from the coppery spice of mulled bloodwine to the heady fragrance of expensive perfume to the sweaty scent of scheming nobles. It was enough to make it feel like someone blew powdered silver directly into his sinuses.

    Pulling his mask back up to muffle the smells, he made his way over to the tiny Karnstein and her consort that he was late to bodyguard for. Having done jobs for her family before, he knew the two well enough to pick them out from a crowd, but not much better than that. It was likely that this job was a statement of wealth and power from the Karnsteins rather than for any practical purpose, so it was probably going to be a boring night of listening to politics and pleasantries.

    Without a word, he strode up behind the two vampires, positioning himself as if he hadn't been hours late. His eyes idly trailed around the room, taking in all of the nobles conversing and pretending to be friends before his gaze settled on the only thing any of them truly cared about: the symbol of the most powerful position within supernatural society, the empty Throne of Night yearning to be filled once more.































post






extra








Rennick Kaltenbrun



Huntersbane
Hound








Location



Court of Blood Courtroom







Time



Night







Mentions



CinnamorollLoverVAVR CinnamorollLoverVAVR







Interactions



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♡coded by uxie♡
 
Rivaille Ruthven

Screenshot 2023-09-27 9.29.01 PM.png
Location(s): Ruthven Estate & Court of Blood
Mentions: CinnamorollLoverVAVR CinnamorollLoverVAVR & Managarmrr Managarmrr
Interactions: Ayama Ayama


The Ruthven Estate was quite the sight: beautiful Gothic-style buildings surrounded by a dark forest. Despite the beauty, there was a certain stillness to the compound. It did not border on eerie and instead invoked a sense of dread and foreboding. Despite it sticking out like a sore thumb, most, if they can even find it amongst the dense forest, did not dare approach the estate. The rumored monsters and various traps kept any prying eyes away from the estate.

Inside one of the various buildings’ basements was a laboratory that would make a mad scientist envious: many test tubes and beakers filled with various liquids and wet specimens, numerous tools and equipment that lined the aging stone walls, and tables covered in papers and old books. Rivaille Ruthven was currently busy with one of his “experiments,” as he normally was whenever he wasn’t causing discord. “Oh my, I’m going to be late. We’ll have to finish this later.” He smiled at whatever the abomination he had made. He took off his blood-stained lab coat and placed it over his chair. Luckily the clothes he wore underneath it were free of any blood or viscera. “Well, I’m off!” A far too chipper tone for the surroundings he was in. “Oh wait. I almost forgot the present.” He grabbed a vial off one of the shelves and stuck it in his pocket and with that his body began to almost melt, if that was the word for it, into a pool of darkness.

The Court of Blood was very similar to the Ruthven Estate, but had a more ancient presence and appearance. Rivaille had scared the dickens of the guards at the entrance when his body formed from the shadows. Which caused the dark-haired Ruthven smirk and he made his way into the Courtroom. Rivaille was probably one of the few Ruthven representatives in the Court. While the dark-haired man was not the oldest Ruthven, he was often sent instead to represent the Ruthven Family’s interests. Rivaille’s father was an elusive man and did not often appear before the Court, many probably did not even know what the Head of the Ruthven Family looked like. “I do apologize for my tardiness.” Rivaille’s feline-like eyes scanned the various members of the court. His gaze appraised each member with an eerily playful look. Rivaille stare settled onto the Karnstein Family and their guard. A toothy grin spread across his face and he let out a small hum before he continued his examination of the room.

When his eyes landed on Amaranth, Rivaille’s playful expression turned to downright giddiness. “Mara~!” He greeted the pale-haired girl cheerfully as he bounded over towards the Bathory representative, there was a certain glint in his eyes that would make most individuals' blood run cold. “It is so good to see you and you look radiant. Oh, I brought you a gift!” He smiled as he pulled out the vial he had stuck in his pocket earlier and placed the supposed "gift" before Amaranth. Inside the small container were a pair of eyes. “Remember the servant girl and you mentioned she had beautiful eyes. I hope you like them!” A smile that was far too innocent for the “gift” he just gave was plastered across his face.

 
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Godric Wylde​
Godric made it a point not to be first, but nor was he ever late. He was to appear exactly when he was supposed to, as he had been ordered to. And so, he saw this younger generation of vampires in their petty, self indulgent nature jump out of the shadows to scare the guards. If these were the Court Guard at it's peak, those children would be shorter by a head. But the Guard had been purged and restructured several times in short order after the death of Dracula, for clearly there had either been a defector, a traitor to their own kind, or they simply were not as good as they needed to be. And nobody wanted to admit to the latter of the two. Now all that was left was a hollow shell of the former glory of the Court Guard. Of course, there weren't many that jumped out to startle them, as most that were allowed into the Court simply appeared within it's walls, pass the guards. And of the two, one had been a werewolf that was not of the Wylde family, and the other one was one of the Ruthven brats. But as far as he was concerned, that summed up the new generation as a whole rather neatly.

Concluding his walk and session of people watching, he casually strolls towards the Forum, where all the attending House's representatives would gather to discuss what this meeting had been called for. The Harkers, and those like them. They were once again becoming a threat and growing more bold by the day. Why this required all to attend was beyond him, they should do as they had always done and cull the herd. This bickering was what revealed the opening Hunters needed to start stabbing.

He looked neither left nor right as he entered the Forum, but he made quick note of all those in attendance. He saw the two that had harassed the guards, the werewolf apparently being a hired guard for Heavenly Karnstein and that 'betrothed' of hers Ulric Deville. A strange choice, but who was he to tell them how to spend their money?

Then there were the Varneys, that had arrived in force with their matron at the head. She looked like she would have marched the warpath by herself, with her step-daughter and a witch merely being caught in her wake. If he had to guess, though, the reason for her sour mood was the fashion choices of that step-daughter of hers. Why did it matter so? He'd have thought that having lived through several hundred cultural fashion changes, she'd be used to whatever bizarre costume the youth thought was appropriate for such an event.

So far, it appeared only the one Ruthven had arrived, the one that had acted so childishly in his opinion. Surely more would come, they wouldn't let some misbehaving child represent their entire family? Perhaps one of the other two Ruthven boys would arrive to temper their brother. If not, he would eagerly anticipate the show that would be provided to him.

And then lastly, there was Lady Dulcamara Amaranth of House Bathory. She had been groomed for this moment her entire life, now was the time the Bathory family would see if their labors bore any fruit or if would die on the vine. He had seen the weight of expectations and duty snap people, their mind simply collapsing under the pressure. Quite a few found their way to his doorstep, looking for the release from responsibility the wilderness could provide.

Oh, and who could forget the honorable Sorana Moarte. She prowled the Court like a hunting cat, waiting for any signs of weakness to pounce on and rip to bloody shreds. She was much like him in that way, though he would never admit it out loud. They were very much small fish, in a small pond. They had to choose their moments wisely, and snatch at what they can before stepping humbly out of the light and attention their bid would undoubtedly bring. A shame she rejected every advance he made in an attempt to form an alliance. But then again, much like him, if that alliance meant giving up his name he very much understood her hesitation.

Finally he reached his chosen seat, one off to one side and not behind any of the four major Houses, and sat down. A deliberate choice, a small move to show that he supported none of them no matter what they had to say. Now all he had to do was wait for the meeting to officially start.
 
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Evelyn found herself doing what she always did at this time of day: stewing, stuffing, and roasting food for the other human residents of the house. Not everyone consumed blood here, and they, too, needed to be nourished. She got a few fashioned vegetables and meat from a local butcher. Henry. She smiled as she diced the beef he had put aside for her. Rubbing her cheek, she smiles. How she wished he would kiss that cheek. Though she worked for vampires and studied dark arts, she could still have a simple crush. Tossing the ingredients into her stew, she opened the lid and clicked her fingers. It was done. It wasn't long until fellow workers went to her kitchen to grab a bowl before returning to work. The of it went to Will, one of the more mature resident servants. He hated being called old. For her, he still felt like he was fresh.

"How do you find the time to do all this, love." His accent lilted as he brushed back his silver main of hair. Evelyn shrugs and gives Will a simple smile. "Ah- my sweet girl." He pulled her into a tight hug. Patting her back, he grunted, "Well, back to work." Waggling his thick, gnarled brows, he sipped his stew before leaving. Evelyn had put something a little extra in Will's. Even though he never complained about it. She knew his rheumatism was acting up by the way he hobbled away. Peering into the empty pot, she gave another silent smile. After cleaning, she made her way to her quarters. The house was having a vital gathering tonight. There was little need for her at the moment, and so she found herself with a little free time.

Evelyn had been part of this household since childhood. Though she served the family, she was considered a bit more than just a servant—not family, never family, but something altogether different. Though, little did they know. Evelyn never considered them anything other than monsters. Blood drinkers. "Killers." Her mouth formed the words, but no sound came out. Evelyn could seldom find the energy or strength to speak in this house. Though the dark usually comforted her, this dark was different. Clamping her eyes shut, she tries to forget the screams which had haunted her these many years.
 
Solaris_ said:

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    Rowan tugged at the collar of the cloak he was wearing. It was a lot less comfortable than his own and, on top of that, Cora had made him wear an ornate silver chain around his neck as well as bothered the servants to add a silver clasp to the stifling ensemble. It annoyed him that she seemed to think he could draw attention at the meeting. He was the one that was supposed to be protecting her. But after all her persisting, he'd finally agreed. Even though he knew fully well that he could immediately smite anyone dumb enough to so much as glance his direction too long.
    "You look lovely!"
    Rowan looked up as Cordelia descended the staircase in a gown her stepmother definitely had not approved for the meeting. "You look...like you want to give your stepmother a heart attack," he replied with a disapproving look. But he couldn't help grinning slightly. That woman was a menace and he shared his best friend's hatred toward her. After reaching the floor, she spun slowly. "The bitch deserves it," she said with a smile as she linked her arm with his. "Shall we?"

    The group walked in silence. Cordelia's stepmother led the way, her heels clacking angrily as they approached the looming castle. Rowan knew there would be hell to pay when they returned home, but the woman was currently more concerned with arriving to the meeting in plenty of time to scope out the other attendees. He felt Cora's arm ever so slightly tighten around his as each step carried them closer to the lion's den. He squeezed hers reassuringly in response as they approached one of the towering black doors. Cordelia's stepmother waved her hand dismissively and the heavy door creaked open of its own accord as they found themselves in the court room.
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Ch. 2 - ...With Friends!





"Hm...?"
Heavenly hummed the moment she felt herself almost being toppled over by a large figure. She turned around to see her only best friend and her right hand man: Lady Cordelia Varney and Rowan Lenoir! She beamed and returned the hug. When her best friend said that her dress was beautiful, she beamed. "Thank you! Ulric here actually wanted me and him to match, so yeah!" She signed. Ulric smiled to himself and walked up to Heavenly, Cordelia and Rowan. "What she's saying is that I wanted to match with her.." He said with a serious face. Heavenly nodded her head in agreement. Then, she noticed her bodyguard, Rennick. She smiled warmly, but then decided to not disturb him in his duties. When Cordelia was signing to her some insults behind the back of her stepmother, she looked at her friend's stepmother. She turned back and giggled softly.




























boba date (cute music)













♡coded by uxie♡

 
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Lady Moarte observed from her seat as more people entered the council room. First, there was Heavenly, who was not someone that Sorana had judged to be an imminent threat but also not someone she wanted to underestimate. Still, she clearly had a softer side, and Sorana couldn't decide if it was bold or foolish to show that side in a room of vampires. She watched as Cordelia and Heavenly greeted each other as friends. A part of her wondered what that was like, to have a friend, someone who expresses such joy upon seeing you. She stifled that part of her, knowing that if she wanted to achieve her ambitions things like trust and love would only get in her way. She had not had a true friend since before she was turned, and even then the friendship had ended with violence and despair.
There was also the others who had entered alongside Cordelia, although Sorana was not familiar with them. She wondered if they were members of a lesser family like herself. To be a lesser family member here was to be looked down upon and ignored, and Sorana had learned that quite some time ago. She pictured people like those of Cordelia's bloodline seeing her and turning their nose up, offended that someone of her family would even dare to be here. Maybe not Cordelia herself, though, as from the looks of things she got along with lesser vampire bloodlines just fine. Of course, Cordelia was a Varney, and what greater family was more likely to make allies everywhere they could than the Varneys?
Now, a Bathory, like the one who had just entered, they were one of the families that worried Sorana. Over the years, Sorana had dealt with the Varneys, the Ruthvens, and even had an encounter with Mircalla Karnstein, but the Bathorys were aloof to her. She tensed ever so slightly as she watched Dulcamara enter the room. Then she calmed herself, knowing that the council room was a safe haven for vampires and there would be no violence here. Not that she expected violence from the Bathory, but she didn't know what to expect. By the time Dulcamara nodded to her, Sorana had soothed her nerves and offered a curt smile as she nodded back. She was surprised to have been acknowledged, perhaps she had judged too harshly.
She waited patiently for more to enter. There was the man who looked like a hunter - a very interesting sight at the court. If she didn't know better she would have assumed one of the Harkers had slipped by the guards to attend this meeting. Then there was Rivaille, a Ruthven for sure. Oh, and the next to enter was Godric, one of Sorana's favourite competitors. She knew he was violent and dangerous at heart, and she figured that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. That made him both admirable and a target in her eyes. She would, of coures, never side with him, as she would rather be staked through the heart than watch another vicious man seize the throne. She smiled slightly when she saw where he sat, though. The man was bold and knew how to make a statement, she would give him that.
Drawing in a deep and lifeless breath, more for show than anything else given that she did not strictly need to breathe, Sorana studied the room, looking at all the vampires from different families and their agents at hand. Was this everyone that could make it? Or were there more to arrive? She considered suggesting the room focus on their topic at hand, but decided it was not yet time to draw attention to herself. Besides, it seemed like everyone was getting acquainted or reaquainted. She felt that tugging at her soulless heart again, wishing that she were not in this court alone and friendless scraping for power, but her expression hardened as she reminded herself it was the only way she could claw her way to the top.
 

  • 1725933603846.pngRowan watched as Cora and Heavenly exchanged cryptic hand movements, grateful for Ulric's interpretation. Ever since first meeting the petite vampire and her fiance at their engagement party, Cordelia had thrown herself headfirst into studying sign language and befriending the lady. He knew it was just who she was, it was in her blood. It was how the great Varney family had been able to build themselves up into who they were today, after all. And the free-spirited Cora had always been this way, loyal to and protective of those she deemed friends, family legacy and power be damned. But still, he felt left out.
    When Rennick finally materialized behind Ulric and Heavenly, he scanned the bodyguard's blood-soaked monster hunter garb with a curious tilt of his head.
 
Solaris_ said:

  • View attachment 1184327Rowan watched as Cora and Heavenly exchanged cryptic hand movements, grateful for Ulric's interpretation. Ever since first meeting the petite vampire and her fiance at their engagement party, Cordelia had thrown herself headfirst into studying sign language and befriending the lady. He knew it was just who she was, it was in her blood. It was how the great Varney family had been able to build themselves up into who they were today, after all. And the free-spirited Cora had always been this way, loyal to and protective of those she deemed friends, family legacy and power be damned. But still, he felt left out.
    When Rennick finally materialized behind Ulric and Heavenly, he scanned the bodyguard's blood-soaked monster hunter garb with a curious tilt of his head.
Click to expand...


















Ch. 3 - Simply Anxious...!





"Hehe!"
Heavenly giggled softly. When her friend signed that the two teens looked great, Heavenly smiled widely, while Ulric half smiled. The moment that Cordelia asked her how the meeting will go, she tensed up. She felt extremely nervous about this meeting. What if she wasn't chosen as the new ruler of the Throne of Night? She would drop her head in worriedness. Ulric noticed this and hugged her tightly, comforting her. "Hey, hey now...It's okay..!" Ulric softly said, before his expression turned dark. "I will do anything to get you to the Throne of the Night...this I swear..." He muttered to himself.




























boba date (cute music)













♡coded by uxie♡

 












The Hemlock Hexe















A

nthea Esadora Nightshade










hedge witch - 198 - she/her



"Belladonna, Queen Ann's Lace, Aconite, Hemlock..."

Anthea always liked to recite their names as she worked. It wasn't just that it helped her keep track- she simply liked saying them. Most plants had beautiful names but, to her, the poisonous ones somehow always seemed to sound the most beautiful of all.

The witch was in the garden at the front of her cottage, picking plants by moonlight. The clear light of the full moon illuminated the entire garden and, as all witches knew, plants picked in the light of a full moon had the greatest potency.

As the official witch on retainer for the powerful Karnstein family, Anthea had to be prepared with high-quality ingredients at all times and, as poisons were her specialty, she especially couldn't afford to let their stock get low.

Having gathered everything she needed, she returned inside the small cottage. Of course, she had a large, lavish room of her own inside the palatial Karnstein Manor but, being a true hedge witch, she would no sooner imprison herself between walls of stone than begin practicing necromancy.

That being said, as she served vampires, she did sometimes have to perform tasks that she found distasteful, but this did not happen often as Heavenly was, despite her nature and position, a fundamentally innocent being.

Thea shuddered to think what she might've been asked to do had she accepted employ with the Bathorys or, Goddess forbid, the Ruthvens. Their practices were so notoriously brutal that one of their own had even defected to the Varneys- the only one of the Big Four families whose heir seemed to have no eye on the Throne.

Speaking of which, there was an important Council meeting scheduled for tonight and, as a retainer for the Karnsteins, she was expected to be there. She quickly and efficiently gathered up her herbs in the correct bunches or jars, grabbed her cloak (those blasted vampires and their ice-cold castles), and swept out the door.

The walk to the nearest entrance to the Court of Blood was one she had done many times before and, as she wound her way expertly through the trees, the witch's mind began to wander.

After the zealous religious persecutions had somewhat abated, her mother had thought that a new age of prosperity and respect would come for witches but, instead, men had come with their science and machines to deal a blow to both witchcraft and religion in one.

Now, they worshipped only their technology, and Anthea had felt that aligning herself with the power of the vampires had been the logical choice if she ever wanted to change things and see her mother's dreams come to fruition.

The Court, however, had been in disarray since the death of Dragul the Elder, and between the humans' outrageous growth in population, their lack of firm leadership, and the increasingly damaging attacks of the hunters (subject of tonight's meeting), the fangers really needed to get their shit together if they didn't want to face extinction.

Anthea sighed when she reached the portal and felt the familiar chill as she was magically transported to the entrance of Castle of Night.

"Evening," she nodded at the usual guards as she walked past, making her way into the dark bowels of the building. She drew her cloak more closely around herself, watching for snags in the ground, as she also didn't possess the vampires' natural agility or nocturnal vision.

Within a short amount of time, she'd made it to the Council chamber, where she was unsurprised to see many of its members already gathered- some sitting or standing ostensibly alone, and others conversing in low voices.

There was Sorana Moarte- the fiercely independant vampiress who, somehow, still had an eye on the Throne, as did the impressive Godric Wylde. She admired them both, in a way, even though she knew they had no chance of realistically attaining their goal without an all-out massacre occurring.

Wylde had even tried to recruit her to support his bid. She had, of course, refused, though his ever-respectful manner had also convinced her not to speak to the other vampires about it.

There also was the Black Dahlia of House Bathory, apparently in conversation with none other than Rivaille Ruthven. Thea's eyes widened at that- it was no secret at Court that the two previous lovers had had a rather acrimonious falling out and, though the eccentric Ruthven seemed as oblivious as ever, the slight red blush coloring the cheeks of the pale Bathory Heir showed that she, clearly, was not remotely mollified.

Thea made her way to the cluster of people she should actually be standing with, smiling as she noticed the only kindly and animated conversation in the otherwise quiet room.

Heavenly was as sweet as ever, giggling amidst Ulric and Cordelia's indulgent and protective smiles. She nodded at Rennick, standing discreetly behind her as a bodyguard should. The two had gotten closer since the incident with the poison, and his family were currently some of her best customers.

She moved to stand next to Rowan, nodding at the other fangers assembled in the austere room.

"Immortals- they just don't have any sense of punctuality, do they?" she quipped, knowing her friend would be likely to raise a sardonic eyebrow at the remark, given that she was older than even some of the vampires here.













♡coded by uxie♡
 
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(Icons are clickable, music is clickable. Dialogue has invisible scroll. Enjoy)









  • Darrius






    filler



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    • home (filler tab)



































    Joseph Trapanese



    The Heretic









    The moonlight cast long shadows across the cobblestone alley as Darrius pressed Virelle against the cold stone wall. His amber eyes gleamed with a mix of suspicion and agitation.
    "You're cutting it close, wolf," Virelle purred, her fangs glinting. "Lady Amaranth won't be pleased if her new pet is late to the party."

    Darrius growled low in his throat. "I'm nobody's pet, leech. Now, about our arrangement..."

    Virelle's laugh was like tinkling glass. "So impatient. Don't worry, I always keep my promises." Her fingers trailed along his jaw, sharp nails scraping lightly against his stubble. "You just focus on being a good little spy in the Bathory household."

    "And the other part of our deal?"     Darrius pressed, not backing away from her touch.

    Virelle leaned in, her lips a breath away from his. "All in good time, my dear. You'll have what you seek, assuming you hold up your end."
    For a moment, the tension between them thickened the air, and Darrius somehow found himself at the mercy of this little vixen, his hold loosening on her. At the last second, Virelle pushed him back with a wicked smile.

    "Now run along, mutt" she whispered. "Wouldn't want to keep your new mistress waiting."

    Darrius slipped into the grand hall just as the scent of another wolf hit his nostrils. His eyes narrowed, scanning the crowd until he spotted the owner – Rennick, standing guard near members of the Karnstein family. He'd heard whispers of a powerful half-lycan with crimson eyes, someone Virelle had warned him not to underestimate should they cross paths. But he couldn't afford to let his curiosity distract him now.

    He spotted Lady Amaranth across the room, engaged in conversation with a pale vampire he recognized as Rivaille Ruthven – her former lover. If the gossip was to be believed, their falling out had been a rather dramatic one. As Darrius approached, he saw Rivaille extend his hand, offering a small crystal vial. Inside, a pair of eyeballs floated in preservative fluid. Hmm, it would appear my new lady has…a unique taste in men.
    Having caught the tail end of the conversation, he decided to smoothly insert himself before Lady Amaranth could accept the macabre gift.

    "My, what a... thoughtful offering, Lord Ruthven," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
    "Though I can't help but wonder – did you perhaps run out of time to fashion them into a more wearable trinket? A pair of earrings, perhaps?"     He cocked an eyebrow. "Or did the thought simply not cross your mind?"

    Darrius continued; his tone deceptively light. "After all, if my lady is to ascend to new heights of power, surely she deserves gifts that reflect her elevated status. A servant's eyes seem a touch... pedestrian, don't you think?"

    He turned to Lady Amaranth, offering a slight bow. "My apologies for my tardiness, my lady. I see I've arrived just in time to assist with your, ah, curio collection."






    ♡coded by uxie♡


 












The Black Dahlia















L

ady Dulcamara Amaranth, Viscountess of Bathory










pureblood vampire - 222 - she/her



She smelled the next to arrive before anything else. Fresh blood- he reeked of it. Amaranth was particularly glad that she'd fed before coming- she couldn't afford any distractions, though even with a full stomach she could feel her fangs biting into her lower lip.

She turned as the culprit in question arrived to see a tall man wearing head-to-toe black including hat, mask, and gloves, in the traditional attire of a vampire hunter, of all things.

Mara's breath caught in her throat, fight-or-flight reflexes activating. She was about to call out a warning when she saw that the man in question was making a beeline for Heavenly and Cordelia, and the Bathory Heir's cold, calculating side said Wait. This could be fortuitous.

When the man in question simply moved to stand behind Heavenly in the traditional position of a bodyguard, she let out a breath that was at once of relief and frustration, looking around immediately for her own guard, who was supposed to be starting today.

She was fuming again about her miscalculation and how weak she had inadvertently made herself look- arriving with no attendant and no guard- when her entire train of thought was hijacked by the very person she least wanted to see- the insufferable Rivaille Ruthven.

Once, she had thought she and the Ruthven Heir might've had something beautiful. They had spoken at length about what they might do once the Throne was theirs- how no one would be able to stand against the combined might of the Ruthvens and Bathorys together.

She had eventually realized, however, that Rivaille's desires and priorities aligned with her own merely due to circumstance and, once she realized that, she could no longer trust him.

The breakup had been public, and ugly. She half-regretted that, but also felt it had demonstrated her strength and resolve to the rest of the Court- forsaking an alliance with the Ruthvens in such a way.

Although, as it turned out, the idea of it hadn't completely died out in her family's mind as, when Raghnall Ruthven resurfaced to take his place a few years later, they had immediately begun trying to arrange a match between them.

Mara wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that- true, Raghnall did not possess the deranged, manic manner that Rivaille did, and the lack of feelings between them would make it easier for them to rule together with level heads.

However, that witch of his made the hairs on the back of Mara's neck stand on end every time she entered a room, and all in all she was simply less enthused about the idea of ruling with Raghnall by her side than ruling alone.

Still, until she could be assured that was her destiny, she couldn't afford to entirely discount the possibility. She would prefer to rule with a political ally, if that was what it took, than not rule at all.

As these thoughts and more ran through her mind, to her alarm and distaste, Rivaille spotted her across the room and began to make a beeline in her direction. Having no nearby acquaintance she could casually pretend to be making conversation with, Mara watched him approach with wary apprehension.

What on earth could he want with me? she wondered, tense.

“Mara~!” he greeted her with the same oblivious enthusiasm he always did. The familiarity of it grated on her. “It is so good to see you and you look radiant. Oh, I brought you a gift!”

"Oh, really?" she replied with forced joviality. "What is it?"

He placed a vial containing a pair of human eyeballs into her reluctantly outstretched hand.

“Remember the servant girl and you mentioned she had beautiful eyes. I hope you like them!”

He grinned at her like a little puppy who had just caught and delivered a rat to its master, his eyes bright and shining.

"They're... lovely," the vampiress said with barely-concealed disgust. "Thank you."

Before Rivaille could respond, her new guard finally arrived, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation.

A noticeable vein began pulsing in the vampire's forehead as the wolf proceeded to speak to the Ruthven scientist as if the two were on an equal footing. Apparently, he thought his job as a guard entailed him interjecting himself into the conversations of the Court to 'protect' her socially as well as physically.

She appreciated that he seemed not to be entirely witless, but the fact that he dared to be so brazen given the difference in their status- not to mention his tardiness- sent a current of barely-suppressed wrath coursing through her body.

As he at last turned to her and apologized for being late, she seized on his mention of her 'curio collection', as he put it, to rectify the situation.

"See that it doesn't happen again," she said icily, dropping the vial into his hand and immediately turning back to resume her conversation with Rivaille. The man might be insufferable, but engaging in polite smalltalk with him as her guard stood silently by, as guards should, would restore things to the way they were supposed to be.

She glanced once more at the other werewolf behind Heavenly who, despite his insanely inappropriate choice of attire, seemed at least to understand what his function was.

She cursed again the twist of fate that had put her into this situation, making her look weak in comparison to the Karnstein Heir. Heavenly might be empty-headed and sweet, but she was backed and surrounded by powerful allies. Amaranth might have a heart of steel but, most of the time, she was very much alone- especially after the mysterious death of her previous guard.

She watched the others in the room out of the corner of her eye as she and Rivaille spoke, noting how Moarte and Wylde stood solemnly apart, while the cluster surrounding Heavenly seemed to grow larger with every new arrival. She hoped her mother and aunt would arrive soon to be at her side, as every second she stood here without them was a challenge to her dignity and composure.

"So, Lord Ruthven," she said, emphasizing the formal address in contrast with his annoyingly informal one, "have you made any interesting new discoveries lately?" she asked, hoping the meeting would get underway promptly enough to cut the smalltalk with her infuriating ex short.













♡coded by uxie♡
 
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