"Desmond Lloyd, correct?" Dolorante Mortuge said, standing and stretching out a hand. "I just received the message from the Queen. This way, please," the Chancellor said, leading the way out of her office. Keeping up a brisk but not precisely fast pace that Moroi often did when on business, Chancellor Mortuge walked Desmond to the back of the more heavily-guarded academy halls and down the stairs that led toward the probation cells that were more commonly known as the "dungeons." 

Dolorante came to a stop before an ancient wooden door reinforced with iron, turning to the royal-sanctioned Moroi as she waited for the guard to unlock the dungeon door. "If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Lloyd, what do you plan on doing with the detainee?"

Desmond replied to the chancellor's inquiry with a slight, bouncing nod and another toothy smile. He drew on the stoag between his fingers one final time before killing the smolder with his magic and stuffing it back where it had come from. Turning with finesse and offering an arm for her to take may have seemed a response to the offered hand to the untrained eye. In fact, he was not aware of her action at all, but he had guessed she would do something of the sort. This was not their first encounter, and it would certainly not be the last. He knew she would observe the formalities of an official of the queen's court, and milking it was his favorite response. 

Her touch was elegantly light as she led him into the depths of the Academy. Despite the clear strength behind it, her grasp was comforting. She smelled sweet too, and walked with an astonishingly light step, even for a Moroi. Her family stature, being very much above his, showed in every little mannerism and perceivable feature was pleasant. That was why he never really trusted her fully. 

"I intend to talk to him. And then I will decide if he is to be executed... Or released and enrolled in St. Vladimir's." The moroi said with an empty gaze and a smirk that creased his already apparent laugh lines. 

"Of course," the Chancellor said, stepping into the now opened dungeon door and into the cool, dim stone-walled room. "This way, Mr. Lloyd," Dolorante said, leading the way towards the back of the dungeon. Despite the state that the being the guards had found earlier that evening had appeared to be in, the Chancellor knew better than to take such chances. She had been entrusted care of the school in part due to her attention to detail, a point so finely engrained in her she rarely had to question her own actions. 

Coming to a stop outside the correct cell, Dolorante flicked her eyes briefly over the iron-enforced door to make sure the protective runes were still in place before handing the keys to Desmond. "I trust you can take it from here?" she asked. "If there's anything else we can assist you with, don't be hesitant to ask."

Desmond, tightened his arm around the chancellor's hand, his face turning deadly serious, despite his blind gaze. He was not a member of a royal family, he had worked hard for his position. And he was not about to have his authority or stature dismissed. He would allow her to leave when he was ready. 

His demeanor changed from formal and inviting to an air that commanded respect, or even a slight tinge of fear. "Surely, Madam Chancellor, you do not intend to leave an impaired moroi official with an unpredictable member of a mostly unknown species." 

He felt the guards tense with his action, but they wouldn't dare move on him. 

****

Orion stood and moved his body more into the sliver of shadow in his cell. They were right outside the bars. A thousand questions went through his mind. What would they do to him? Why were official-looking people here? The last suited person to confine him had... 

No, he wouldn't let that happen. He would die first, but his stance collapsed again. The wrenching pain in his gut threw him to the floor as he let out a gasp of agony. He wasn't sure if it was the hunger or his head hitting concrete that had elicited the stifle choke of pain, but it didn't matter, he couldn't get up. He needed to eat. He needed, "flesh." 

Had he thought that or said it? Probably both, but even with his torture, that girl was in his mind. She was the only thing keeping him sane at that point. 

****

Dolorante paused, eyes narrowing slightly when Desmond's arm tightened around her hand. Being the Chancellor of the academy, she had been fortunate enough as to make the acquaintance of many a colorful individual, and she was no stranger to unexpected occurrences. Nodding, the Chancellor moved to open the door, her hand still in the  other moroi's.

"Would you not mind me overhearing your conversation?" Dolorante asked without looking back at blind moroi, lifting the key to its rightful home. It slid in smoothly, a deep metallic click sounding as metal touched metal. Pausing slightly, the Chancellor gave it a twist that was followed by multiple clicking noises as door slid open to reveal a figure sprawled upon the floor. Her frown tightened as the stench wafted over, blood but not blood.

The sightless Moroi eased his lock on her hand as she complied. He was, after all, fond of Dolorante. Exercising his positional status was not something he liked to have to do among friends. He flashed her a sarcastic grin, "I believe that this is as much your business as it is the court's, even if they don't see it that way. If this young man is to be allowed to roam this Academy, and I were in your position, I would want to know every detail." 

The door slid open and a scent wafted over them. Des had encountered a number of species with odd smells. But this one was an aroma to remember. Like old, coagulated blood, the smell was both of the living and the dead. Yet the creature before him was very much alive. It was not lost like the strigoi. In fact, it merely seemed hungry and afraid. 

"Flesh.." the boy choked out between stifled, gasping moans of pain. He was gripping his abdomen as if it would twist and and tear itself off. 

"What is your name, boy?" Des asked powerfully. His deep voice was rugged from years of clove cigarettes, but it filled the room easily. But the young man was crazed with hunger. He leapt from his position on the floor and slammed into the bars. If not for the magical barrier, he might have been strong enough to bend them. And if not for he bars themselves, Des and Dolorante might have been dinner. 

The Fallen One melted back down to the floor, sobbing.

Des turned to the Chancellor, "Be a dear and have your guardians fetch one of the... donors that are near enough to their expiration to sacrifice. Better if they have some venom in their system too. Otherwise, I imagine it will be quite painful." 

Dolorante pursed her lips. As the Chancellor, it was her job to ensure that all the donors were well looked after. Although she didn't believe that humans were on the same playing field as Moroi, the Chancellor did not believe in cruelty. However, just this once, there was indeed a human that satisfied the requested parameters, although...

"Williams. Fetch the donor that was moved to the ward a few days ago," Dolorante told the nearby guard. "He should still be in the third wing."

Turning back to the Fallen One, the Chancellor softened her frown a bit before addressing the figure sobbing on the floor. "The donor I am bringing you is a bit past his prime. He overextended himself last week, volunteering for a impromptu party held by some of the more immature members of the academy and ended up bedridden for the past few days and perhaps even the rest of his life. He constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, and he may well be unconscious when he is escorted in. Would such a donor suffice?" Dolorante asked, now addressing the moroi official as well. 

Soon enough the guard returned, a unconscious figure draped over his shoulder. Marching over, Williams eased the elderly human onto his feet and guided him through the last few steps towards the Fallen's cell.

"Bites don't hurt," the old man was muttering, eyes lidded but flickering with life every few seconds. "Never have. Don't hurt. Make me happy. No pain."

Dolorante averted her eyes from the donor, pursing her lips and turning to Desmond. "So, how do you want to proceed?"