Realistic or Modern 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 - the story

[orpheus.]

renewal

ACT I

© REVERIEE

 

[orpheus.]

h1

click the wax seal!

E

h2

Dearest Friends,

You are cordially invited to a grand gala celebrating the extraordinary powers of Varrick Boone, the newly arisen Queenborne Witch of Miracles. This decadent event will be a gathering like no other, where witches, humans, vampires, and all others alike will come together to witness the awe-inspiring abilities of one of the most powerful beings in the realm.

Witness Lord Boone's unparalleled display of magical prowess as the newest Queenborne. Indulge in a feast fit for royalty, featuring delicacies from both the mortal and supernatural worlds. Enjoy enchanting performances by mystical entertainers and artists. Engage in spirited conversations and form alliances across different realms. Please RSVP to secure your place among the honored guests at this extraordinary gala. Please indicate any dietary restrictions or special accommodations needed.

Join us for an evening of wonder, elegance, and magic as we celebrate the remarkable talents of Varrick, a true master of the mystical arts. Your presence will make this event truly unforgettable. We look forward to welcoming you to this unforgettable celebration.

Ever Yours,
Asilas Évreux

♡design by howlingwoods, coded by uxie♡

 

[orpheus.]

WONDER

blessed be the one who swings both edges of vengeance's wicked blade

within the blood

only half holy

will it stop if we go deeper?

blight

— zeruel

mood: shitty
location: Drexler Tower - 9pm
mentions: Mona kindredspirits

scroll

"They won't come."

Verrick spun the silver pen on his fingers as he listened to the occasional pen scribble and typing on a keyboard. His father was checking the books, which was the first thing he always did upon waking from his slumber. Vampires did not require sleep, a benefit of circumstance. But, Asilas was convinced that it made his skin glow more and the blood taste sweeter. "A byproduct of a refreshed mind," he always said when V blatantly pointed out that those extra qualities were attributed to every vampire, regardless of sleep.

"Calm down, mon cher. One does not overly prioritize stalking over the prey itself. Think how they think." Asilas replied, not looking up from his work. It wasn't out of neglect, he'd just heard the worried tones of his son's restless anticipation for 2 days straight. It wasn't like Verrick was always this way and his agitation was understood. It would take an ungodly amount of restraint not to kill the Queenbornes and their minions on the spot. Temperance was the virtue of the day, followed by Discipline. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to burn those bitches where they stood. However, his father was right. The blowback would leave the world in shambles. Someone needed to stand for the future and rule in their stead. This had to be precise--surgical even.

V let go of the pen and watched as it spun in the air from his will alone. "Does this mean I have to dress the part too?" he asked, trying to reach for any distraction he could muster. This earned a chuckle from Asilas, who closed his laptop and sat back in his seat.

"You'd be dressing like me, yes? What's wrong with that?" V raised an eyebrow as the pen started morphing, becoming more liquid with every turn it took. "I'm not saying you're not suave, Father. L just have a different opinion on what I want to look like." And, it was true. Where Asilas was dressed to the nines at all times, Verrick was more laid back and bohemian about his wardrobe. At that moment, he had a low-hanging black tank top, with little bits of jewelry on his neck and wrist, and jeans he had distressed himself Also, he was nearly barefooted, wearing a simple pair of sandals which would leave him in a bit of a situation if he had to run anywhere at the moment.

The pen had completely broken down at this point, having hardened into a metal sphere. "Ready to get moving?" Asilas asked, snapping Verrick out of all extra thoughts. "Yes, sir," he replied, holding out his hand to catch the reformed pen. "Don't we have to visit Mona?" V asked as his father stood up, closing and putting away his ledger. "All in good time, my boy!" Asilas bellowed proudly, putting an arm over his son's shoulder in a fatherly manner.

"All in good time."

© reveriee

 

[demenscous]

mood :

here

location :

here

outfit :

mentions :

reveriee

interactions :

reveriee

divination queenborne

;; evangeline

as dawn cracked across the horizon, revealing a crimson sky, evangeline paced her living quarters. she always woke so early, mostly because she was busy plotting her next draug massacre. but today, today was different. instead of standing in her mansion in ireland, she stood in a hotel in, what was it? new las vegas?

two weeks prior, she received a letter. the letterhead addressed by asilas evreaux, a vampire of patriarchal stance. the letter read as follows:

“Lady Evangeline,

Highest of Seerers,

I send my highest regards to you and your warriors. As a vampire of some stature, I can appreciate the work you are doing. The Draug have been a pressing issue that has been beyond my years and reach. No one is more thankful for you taking the task of ridding the world of such tragic filth.

However, I did not write this letter in hopes of gaining any sympathy from you, madame.

With the eradication of the Boone family line having happened before your time, I am sure that the history books glaze over such a needless slaying of witches by their own kind. It is a shame that these details have been kept from the younger witches of the time, making them more like sheep in a herd ready to be dined upon by the wolves. I digress: Not all of the Boone family line was eradicated on that day.

My son, Varrick Tildon Boone–son of the previous candidate for Queenborne of Divination, Prudence Boone–had displayed powers that can only be described as Miracles of Magick. We hold no grudge for the sins of the past. We only hope that he can be recognized as a fellow Queenborne and be accepted for his rare talent.

If you need any “proof” of his magick nature, come to my home in New Las Vegas. You will be accommodated in a week of leisure that will end in a gala in my son’s name. There, he will display his strength in a proper witch's duel. Then, and only then, will anyone be able to discredit his ability-though I doubt he will give them any room to. We hope to see you soon.

Take Care,
A. Évreux”


asilas was correct in the fact that history books happened to skim over the eradication of the boone family. all she knew was, that the three queenborne at the time, had massacred the boone family tree - there was no rhyme or reason that had been explained.

being the youngest - and until tonight, the newest of queenborne wasn’t anything she had pondered until recently. the announcement of the newest queenborne to be introduced via gala for all species to attend. which, wouldn’t bother her, except for the fact that this was queenborne of miracles. her history books noted that there hadn’t been a queenborne of miracles since the time of the hallowed father.

besides that, the feeling of uneasiness was rooted in the fact that the prior queenborne had massacred what was thought to be the entire boone family tree. was there blood to be spilled at this gala they had arranged? was it a trap for revenge on queenborne?

pride welled her heart. no, he won’t kill me. i won’t let him. she thought to herself, huffing at the thought.

she shook her head and stepped toward her vanity, before starting her makeup as she normally would. her makeup was always simple - more natural. light pink eyeshadow to compliment her ocean blue eyes, a subtle change that made the world of a difference.

she decided she would leave her hair natural, since it was bone straight as is. she preferred her outfit to be the focal point of her appearance - she didn’t spend thousands on luxurious designer clothes for them to go unnoticed.

a gown fit for queenborne of divination, the highest of seers. she would be remembered.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Avi2023]

"Hello there songbird~"

Location: Liminal.

Wearing: Domed mirror mask and layered black and grey hooded clothing.

Interacting with: no one currently.

Health: No injuries nor illness~

Anathema

Faceless False Prophet

Voice of the Soul - Death

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

At the height of the long wet spring, the Mito Plum Blossum Festival was in full swing. Anathema had always enjoyed walking through Ibaraki. It had all the pleasures of Tokyo, though could use more crowds. The beautiful pink blossoms that crowned the festival glimmered brilliantly in the reflection of her smooth silver mask, giving the dark clad woman a brighter, blushed tone.

Given her appearance, some of the festival goers avoided her with a wide berth, others thought she was some sort of performer or artist, asking for photos that she gladly allowed. The people of this country were odd in that way. But it was a great excuse to practice her finger hearts.

It was a shame that she had to start shuffling her pawns around. She was really looking forward to gifting Pimrinth a watermelon from Kyōwa. It was the season, after all, and she did love to tease those two. Then again, she was likely to see them soon in Vegas, after she got her hands on an invitation that is. Which was terribly late, considering the whispers of the gala had already began to spread.

The crowning of a new Queenborne.

An exciting event to say the least. Things were really starting to pick up within The Coven Unitatis. Word around Drexler Tower was that the young master was far beyond due that position, showing signs of his gift as a young child. She knew all of this firsthand, of course, having been around the promising witch on the sidelines since he and his vampire surrogate father settled down for his lessons. A young maid here, a security guard there, whatever it took for her to keep up with the young man. How many years has she put into observing the last of the Boone line? Forever and a day, at least. Perhaps it was about time she introduced herself to him. To the coven. But would shaking the hive be worth it?

A phantom tap on her shoulder broke the thoughts tumbling listlessly through her mind. Closing her eyes, she opened them again to a bolder mix of green and pink leaves and blossoms, a tranquil view from an old a park bench. Whomever tapped her on the shoulder had left, and in their place was a pale letter sealed with red wax. It was addressed to the entity she paid off with a bit of gossip to get her hands on such a thing.

A broad smile stretched a cross her face from behind her silver mask as she lifted the letter and broke its seal. As expected, there was to be a gala in young Verrick Boone’s name. The next Queenborne of Miracles.

Anathema stood and stretched, her body creaking from sitting for so long. Pocketing the letter, she walked out of the park and crossed into the busy streets of downtown Manhattan, like hopping from a river bank into the ocean of concrete and steel. She would have to find something to wear, though that shouldn’t necessarily be an issue. A robe, perhaps, something with defined shoulders and a thin waist. She moved through the crowd with a lightness in her step, plans swirling through her mind. She loved parties.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[lizardanya]

AV AV AV

avdotia

The bar began to quiet down, all the chatter about the promising young performer dissolving into the night, into the old slot machines and into the cheap whiskey placed down on tables. It was mostly the same old drunkards left, too occupied with their glasses to pay anyone any mind. It was late enough that the only conversations still ongoing were ones where everybody was talking past each other, and all the participants were going on about different topics, somehow convinced they were all deeply engrossed in the same discussion.

Av was circling the rim of his glass with his finger, humming under his breath. He was drinking water, as he was supposed to hydrate his vocal chords after performances, since his singing was still on the screaming semi-coherently side, despite years of practice. He just found it more fun that way. And yet, today he was far too distracted to take care of his human body: his gaze was entirely captured by the letter.

It was dropped off by someone after the show, Av didn't really pay attention, too busy bathing in positive attention. He assumed it was some silly fanmail, at first, but he was pleasantly surprised.

He read over it multiple times, devouring the delicious letters, beautiful words, intriguing sentences. He couldn't fight his grin, he was positively brimming with possibility. It's not like Av was in any way isolated from the supernatural in his daily life - it's simply that, on occasion, hanging around pubs and getting random town gossip got boring, plus, he hasn't been to a truly extravagant event in a good while.

He downed his drink in one go, and left the establishment that suddenly felt all too crummy, unable to contain his overflowing excitement. The night air hit his face in the nicest possible way, and his limbs felt light, and his stomach was grumbling. You know, when you take the first bite, you only get hungrier?

There was a spring to his step as he headed off. After all, he needed to pick out a presentable outfit, nice enough to impress the most powerful beings in existence.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Evie Maiden Of Apples]

ilya novikov

T

he theater in New Las Vegas was truly quite something - perhaps not as grand and Historic as other theaters Ilya had performed in, but still worth noting. The Paris Opera house would always be his home, however, nothing could truly match its elegance and charm. Two things Ilya looked for in a strong, tall, handsome man...but had yet to locate such a being. But as a vampire, he had all the time in the world to find that one just for him, and in the meantime, he would soak up all the fame and glory he received at every opera performance he put on. The world wasn't just A stage...it was HIS stage.

And his playground, too, for all intents and purposes. Good thing New Las Vegas had a lot to offer in terms of entertainment, not to mention the men Ilya could charm with but a glance their way. The way they worshipped the ground he walked on, the way they paid for anything he wanted, the way they proclaimed their undying love for him under his hypnotic stare was amusing to say the least. Though such games were starting to wear a little thin with Ilya, and sadly there weren't a lot of good looking men here in New Las Vegas. Still, his work kept him busy enough, and flooded his backstage dressing room with roses and letters of praise. Though after his performance, one letter stood out to him, one he was not quite expecting.

An invitation, to a gala...and not just any gala, but one celebrating a new Queenborne - an invitation to both mortals and supernaturals alike. Well, this was...interesting. Ilya huffed a bit with a pout, "Ugh, I don't want to go if I can help it." He shifted on his feet a bit as he paced the floor of his dressing room, deciding to think it over for the time being. "Supernatural politics are so cringe." He mumbled as he changed out of his costume and into his usual lilac suit with black button up shirt and silver tie, and black shiny dress shoes that were stylish but comfortable. He decided to shove the invitation into his pants pocket before exiting his dressing room, then leaving the theater to head back to his hotel room.

"They really need to chill out with this crap." He whispered to himself as he rolled his eyes. "I don't have the time or energy for putting on airs." And yet he had more than enough time and energy to do whatever he so desired, but he wasn't going to admit that to himself let alone anyone else.

MOOD

Bored and looking for fun

INTERACTIONS

None but open

LOCATION

New Las Vegas

MENTIONS

N/A

coded by xayah.ღ

 

[kindredspirits]

The Marked Nightingale

Mona

Every step forward echoes a sigh.

The flowers amongst the cozy building and graveyard were blooming, filled with life and color that made it so easy to overlook the true nature of the land. Though as with life, and so in death, the labor of love that made this place the peaceful refuge a sanctum for many lost souls was from the care of the hands of the witch who could see them freely here on the hallowed ground. Hunched over and knelt down by the planters that lined the walkways of her garden, skin smeared with dirt and gloved hands deep within the soil as she pulled weeds. Her long brown hair tied back with a purple bow to keep out of her face while she toiled away her free time tending to the many flora she had cultivated in her years here. The buzzing of the bees that lazily flew between the petals, loaded down with pollen they had collected, and even a few butterflies paused on a few as though to watch her work. But like all good things, this too must come to an end…

The letter arrived by post, the mailman who loved to come all this way last for his route to deliver her mail because his wife always enjoyed the bouquets he often came home with from Mona. Though today while he received the freshly cut flowers wrapped in sweet smelling paper, he could see her smile thin at the sight of the waxed sealed envelope addressed to her, but she kept her tone jovial as she waved him off. Only the second he was out of sight did she let out a long sigh, pulling her gloves off while she walked to her home, slipping through the door to the lively inside. Two fake skeletons walking around dusting and attending to a few of the chores while chattering away with each other like old friends, stopping only to chide her about her shoes tracking in dirt. Something she apologized for with a small smile before she slipped out of her dirtied work boots by the door with her gloves so she could open the regal letter.

It took only seconds, but felt far longer as she carefully unfolded the paper to reveal the writing and the names stated in it that she knew personally. The contents left her emotions mixed; though she had plenty of positive ones for Verrick taking his first step to begin the vengeance that was years in the making. With Asilas at his side, as he always was, she was sure that things would follow the route they were supposed to, whatever they may be, as justice was something that always fulfilled whether it took its time or not. However—

The landline for her home she kept for one reason and one reason alone rang to life with a shrillness that cut through the nice atmosphere of her home. The skeletons stilled and snapped their heads to look at Mona as she picked it up. Holding the old receiver to her ear, her expression deadpanning the instant she heard the voice on the other end.

"Desdemona, you must absolutely attend."

”Hello to you too Agatha.”

Mona replied calmly to her grandmother who tutted, and she could practically see the woman pursing her lips momentarily before stopping herself to avoid wrinkles.

”Desdemona, I know you received a letter like the rest of us, and I am telling you that you must attend.”

She couldn’t stop herself from sighing, the ever-draining feeling of talking with her family and the expectations they were determined to enforce not helping in the slightest as though her lips parted to speak it was the same voice that continued with no care at whatever response it snuffed out along the way.

”We’ve accepted your selfish phase you seemed to have inherited from my daughter, but even she wouldn’t decline going to an important event like this—”

”Agatha, I—“

Two words in and yet again another interruption, even though her answer would have been satisfied the older woman if she had just let her granddaughter talk long enough to say so. The brunette leaned against the wall as she held the phone to her ear by her shoulder as she just let the woman ramble on while writing on the calendar closest to her.

”And you must dress appropriately, with how high standing Mr. Évreux is. None of this colorful business, you are our esteemed Expression Witch of this generation, you should dress like it.”

A silence followed the end of her thought, leaving her to feel as though she had truly said something of note to earn that quiet acceptance. But as it dragged on, Mona could hear her begin to huff at not receiving any form of answer.

”Well?”

”It was as wonderful as always to hear from you Agatha, give my best to the rest of them.”

Mona could hear the beginning of a yell as she hung up, putting the receiver back on the phone to cut the call. The old style phone soon being unplugged to kill of the ringing that would bombard it. She should have been annoyed, but after so many conversations going along the same sequence, she was just used to it by now. Though getting to physically hang up on someone did bring some joy, something she know could understand why her mother never replaced the old black landline phone.

”What tea should I have today? Earl Grey or Chamomile.”

She mused to herself while pushing off of the wall and heading toward that kitchen with a soft hum.

Code By Nano

 

[Hvnny-Bvns0]

Lola

mood.

the illusion of calm

location.

Boone residence

tags.

null

Lola sat in her study, posture perfectly poised in the velvet armchair. From the wall-covering window, she observed the houses below. Not taking her eyes off the view, she sipped her tea. Chamomile, perfectly sugared, with a single dash of cream.

From where she sat, the people looked like mere ants. Running from place to place, getting in cars to drive into the main city. The large skyscrapers of central Tokyo rose above the rest of the buildings, setting her mansion in the perfect spot to observe all that occurred under her rule.

“You got a letter, Miss Lola.” Pimrinth placed the envelope beside her mistress’s tea saucer. The Halfling was completely silent, save for her voice, which would have startled Lola if the two hadn’t known each other for so long.

Lola set down her cup with a small clink, looking to her handmaiden.

“Thank you, Pimrinth.” Lola stated, though she stayed turned towards Pimrinth, a silent signal for her to stay. Lola may need to write back to the sender, anyway. She flipped the letter over, searching for a hint of who had sent it.

When she saw the name in the top corner, her grip tightened, crinkling the otherwise pristinely white envelope. Évreux.

Lola knew that name much better than she wished. A spark of fury lit inside her gut, and she tore open the letter without care.

Madame Archambeau,

Your Exalted Ladyship,

With you having taken part in the massacre of the Boone family, I feel as if I don’t have to sugar my words for you. You missed one: My son, Verrick T. Boone, lives. Not only that, but he is the rightful heir to the Throne of Miracles.

Does this make your blood boil? Do you want to finish what you started?

If Lola was angry before, now she was pissed. How? How had she missed? Did Évreux exist simply to spite Lola? Simply to get in her way? First Viktor, and now this? The only one she was careless enough to miss would be among her ranks. The only one she ever missed would be on her level, at least formally. As for ruling over a part of the world… Lola knew she would trump him in any capacity. And, if her bark had any bite, she could keep him in line. Not let him get too cocky and start to rise above his rank- above Lola’s rank.

She kept reading.

Come to my property and bear witness to his wonders. I bear no ill will, but I cannot say the same for my child. Something about the brutal killing of the only blood he ever had? Nevertheless, you will be accommodated to the fullest of my capacity.

I do want to warn you though: If you end his life, you might as well end yours as well. The ways I can make your skin crawl are amazingly long, my friend.

Lola scoffed. She knew it was true, deep in her heart. Asilas had tricks up his sleeve that even Lola would cower in the face of. Yet she would never admit that truth.

Respectfully,

A. Évreux

P.S: How is Viktor? Do you even care anymore?

She took the paper and crumpled it, tossing it at Pimrinth’s feet.

“Throw that out.” Lola stood from her velvet seat, turning to face her handmaiden, who had already picked up the paper and stood to full height. “And pack my bag. Évreux expects us.” She stormed off, leaving Pimrinth alone in the study. The Halfling glanced over the letter briefly. She knew of Viktor, and of the massacre mentioned… and could only guess what else Lola knew. She was never one to show such emotion, in all of Pimrinth’s years of working under her, she had seen Lola react so strongly maybe once. She scampered off to do as she had been asked, not wanting to see how much angrier Lola could get if it wasn’t done in the usual timely manner.

But that was two weeks ago. Lola’s anger had finally simmered, at least visibly. It was scary how fast her emotions could shift, at least in Pimrinth’s eyes.

Lola painted her lips a bloody red, matching her gown and jewels that adorned her every bit of exposed flesh. She looked down to Pimrinth, who looked as plain as ever.

“Will you be wearing that?” Lola questioned simply. It wasn’t malicious, only mildly judgemental.

“I can change,” Pimrinth responded immediately.

“No, the dress will do.” Lola walked across the suite, towards the walk-in closet that was provided with the room. She retrieved her jewelry box, containing enough gold and jewels to make the richest man look like a peasant. A simple gold chain, adorned with a contrastingly intricate web of diamonds, was placed around Pimrinth’s necks by Lola’s cold hands. “I just can’t have you looking like you snuck in without invitation. I know how you tend to wander.”

Pimrinth looked down to the necklace, lifting it from her neck to get a better look. Despite being on the smallest clasp, it fell to the neckline of her dress due to her small frame. It matched her floral printed dress nicely.

“Thank you.”

“Hm.” Lola checked her reflection for the last time in the vanity, giving herself one final stroke of mascara. “Well, let’s not delay any further.” She put the tube inside her small purse. “Let’s not keep our host waiting. I’m absolutely dying to meet this son of his.”

quote

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[-ferret-]

Sobol the Blind

When Sobol was first found, cradled by mutt and snow, he opened ice blue eyes to the blurry form of Raisa Federova. Tiny hands in slightly oversized mittens reached for the ringleader of Lunnyy Tsirk, desperate for reprieve from the cold. Desperate for home. Half blind eyes searched the figure for kindness, searched for answers, even at only days old.



Fully blind eyes do the same now, replacing the simple perceived light with the hazy memory of blurred blonde hair and brown fur coat. The envelope in his hand is of high quality paper, the texture telling it all. The wax seal is smooth and so close to perfectly round. The indentation, a simple ‘E’, is easy enough to decipher. The inside however, is what made Sobol pause to look at the woman who named him. Asilas Évreux is forever extravagant, but taking the time and money to get a letter inscribed in not only braille, but Russian braille, is taking it a step further.



And isn't it just a coincidence that Lunnyy Tsirk is in New Las Vegas now? And many other influential figures around the world, Sobol is suspicious. What does the vampire have planned now? Nevertheless, Sobol is going. He's already discussed the matter with Raisa and the others, looking into preparing himself. It's what he concerns himself with now as he runs fingers along the raised bumps of the parchment. A real Queenborne of Miracles? Isn't that something? Something Sobol would like to know about, in all surety. Having the protection, contractional or in a sense of loyalty notwithstanding, with the true Queenborne of Miracles could set Lunnyy Tsirk up for generations. Hesitating in the face of such opportunities could mean Sobol misses his chance.



Sobol makes a slightly displeased face at the thought of that and hovers his hand over the corner of the paper. The muttering of incantation turns Raisa’s gray head from where she watches her child.



“You do too much for us, Solnyshko,” she says, knowing he's decided.



“Mat’,” Sobol begins with a good natured sigh. “Of course I do. Sem’ya na pervom meste.”



Family first.



The brand burned onto the paper smokes slightly after Sobol is done and he slips the paper back into the envelope along with his request for accommodations regarding Norka. Then, he's sending off the envelope, returning it to where it came from.

coded by: @s e v e n

 

[Avi2023]

"de ce dai, mah? Nu stii sa injuri?"

Location: de'Roos manor, northern.

Wearing: A royal blue layered silk robe.

Interacting with: no one currently.

Health: No injuries nor illness~

Othello Amos de'Roos

Iron oak, The Blood Baron

Sociopath - Lucas King

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Crack!

A sickening whine curdled the air, tumbling from a goliath of a man trembling on a beautiful malachite floor. The many rings of his executioner aided in the breaking of his bones. Though most of the work was done with the ornate cane, curved and weighted at the top like a bladed mallet at second glance. It came down with enough force that he barely felt the pain of his forearm shattering.

Crack!

Oh, but it hurt, it hurt like nothing he had ever felt before in his line of work. This was suppose to be an easy job. Break in. Hustle the cripple for his stims. Maybe break his other leg. Go back to the boss, get paid, go home. This man was a hermit- a goddamned chemist! He didn’t even have any security around his base of operations. Or servants from the look of it. A giant house for one man... And yet, here he was, the fist of one of the biggest drug tycoons in the nation, bleeding out on the cripple’s floor.

This guy wasnt human. Even in this dim lighting, he could tell. There was no way.

He looked up at the man who held his life so loosely between his blood soaked fingers, scowling, baring bloody teeth.

“Amos… you kill me… and we will come after you. I swear it!” The goliath coughed, clutching his shattered knee. If he was going to die, he was going to do it while cursing the avatar of death who did this to him. Damn if he was the he who came crawling into its abode. It still didnt have to end like this.

The Blood Baron stared down at the thug with cold, otherworldly eyes. The shadows clung to his face in a way that made his features skeletal. Haunting. The man gripped his knee tighter as the baron considered him for a second.

He didn’t see the cane arching towards him.

Crack!
---
Othello stared absently down at the headless bloody corpse at his feet, the mess smearing a cross his floor in an arch of about ten feet. Closing his eyes, he took in a long, unnecessary breath through his nose, tapping the foot of his cane back to the floor to take the pressure off his leg.

He didn’t need this today.

Careful not to slip on the crimson with his bare feet, Othello made his way over to a closet with an ample supply of towels. And a mop for good measure. And a few plastic bags. Might as well grab the bleach too. He went about cleaning up the latest disaster while still wearing the robe he had retired in, some of the thugs blood staining its dark blue hem. Though his mind was too preoccupied to care.

Asilas had sent him a summons. It had arrived early that morning.

Brother,

The time has come for us to strike down upon the ones who displace us for not being of their kind.

As you know, I have been busy in the last few decades. I have been attending to a matter of a most delicate nature. A child, thought to have been slain with his kin, has been under my care and tutelage. I felt it most necessary to keep him hidden from the world until he could choose to fight the war that he was born from. It would have been the heaviest burden to ask for your assistance then, for he seems to be the one to free the world from its shackles. Perhaps we may live in a world of some sort of balance if he upturns the current status quo.

Nevertheless, I feel you need to step into the fray now–if not for me, then for my son. I ascertain that if something were to happen to me you’d be one of the only two people I can trust to safe keep this future. Please. Prove me right.

Attached is an invitation to a sort of soiree I am having in Verrick’s honor. I am hopeful that you will be among the many who will be there. I am counting on you, O. And, please, let this stay between us. I would hate for Mother to arrive, fashionably late as usual, and rip the masses to shreds.

Forever your kin,
A.

He hadnt heard from his brother in decades. The only reason why Othello knew Asilas had a ‘son’ was through word of mouth, never having met the kid himself. And now the promising protege was becoming the next Queenborne. Better yet, the witch that would free the vampires.

His brother was ambitious, and he hadnt known Asilas to be the fatherly type. And that of the witch… he was plotting for something bigger than just tipping the scales. It didn’t make sense otherwise.

And now he was to bare witness to it firsthand.

Othello hauled the body to the manor's incinerator with little fanfare. At least he wouldnt have to get his glamour sorted for an event like this. Still. This would be his first public appearance in years. It made his mustache twitch.

He hated parties.

♡coded by uxie♡