Location: Almack’s
“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.”
At the familiar sound of a firearm being cocked, Thalken’s intense gaze swiveled to the side to inescapably stare down the barrel of Mary’s drawn howdah pistol. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring slightly before his jaw clenched. She did not know who she was messing with and the formidable family she was risking pissing off; however, that truth could work vice versa as well. He had underestimated the tenacity of this apostolic woman. That’s not to say though that he could not easily disarm her and overpower her if he so desired to. Regardless, he did not see the point in taking such drastic, offensive actions. As long as he played his cards carefully, she would not shoot him. She just wanted to frighten him off. And if he was wrong? Well, he was not afraid of death. He had stared it down one too many times for it to strike fear into his heart. He had long since accepted the fact that no matter how much he tried to change his ways or atone for his actions, hell still had a special place for him, one that would be right alongside his father. Why try to changes his ways then? Because it was about damn time to do something right for a change of pace.
He snorted contemptuously in response to Mary’s words.
“If you wish to frighten me, you will have to try harder than that. I am a Talink, afterall,” he spoke coldly. There was an earnest quality to his words. A tiger bolting unexpectedly into the room inevitably caught him off guard, but having a gun pointed at him, he’s been there and done that. Yet as he uttered his family name, there was a hint of distaste present in his voice. When Virginia spoke up, his gaze left Mary and met the Lady Crypt’s. He was still aware of the apostolic woman’s presence, his skin tingling with the sensation of present danger. However, he was much more interested in what the Lady Crypt had to say.
Thalken shook his head, scoffing at Virginia’s words.
“If I wanted to harm you, you would already be dead,” he retorted icily, leaning in towards her slightly. He leaned back to his original position soon after so as not to set off Mary.
“I am not interested in you, per se, Lady Crypt. What I am interested in is why my father has done business with your family. I was not sure what my father saw in your family, but I think I see it now—the darkness in your demeanor. You are not much different from me than you would like to think.” He pulled away from her, glancing over at Mary and her drawn pistol.
He was about to walk off when something came to mind that caused him to pause in his steps.
Millicent and Sir Kildragon, she still did not know about them, he thought to himself. He let out a low frustrated sigh as he wrestled with whether or not to tell her or just bail out of there. He knew in his heart that it was the right thing to do, but his pride and the coldness of his soul made the decision hard. He stood there enveloped in tension and restless energy for what felt like an eternity, when in reality it was merely a few minutes. He forced himself to just tell her, his voice remotely better than its usual gruffness,
“Millicent and Sir Kildragon are alive. Them being unharmed though, I cannot attest to. Millicent was attacked by a Ryne She was left with no mortal wounds fortunately. I beheaded the creature, but I was too late to save one of her sisters. Her stepmother was impaled but was alive and being escorted to the hospital by Sir Kildragon and a couple others when I last saw her. Millicent left with some Earl. That’s all I know.” Meanwhile, his twin sister Thalcona was left subject to the Grand Duchess Elizaveta’s derision. She raised a brow in response to the noblewoman’s outburst. This was all because Thalcona had the tenacity to explain her brother’s mindset and actions. It wasn’t like she was justifying her brother’s crude behavior, by any means. But it seemed to matter not to the Elizaveta. She was about to leave the room when Vladimir spoke directly to her and began to slowly approach her. Though he spoke in an eloquently reassuring manner, she was skeptical that she could trust him. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked him up and down with a calculative gaze. “I suppose,” she replied to his offer.
Location: Almack’s
“It’s our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
Fyror and his brother Leon slowly and solemnly walked alongside each other through the ballroom. They took in the carnage that had been left behind. Fyror made a mental note of how many dead bodies there were, as they would all need to be dealt with accordingly before the night was up to prevent them from rising again as the undead. He let out a disheartened sigh with sadness evident in his noteworthy eyes.
As they skirted the room and neared the Musician’s Gallery, Fyror could hear more voices echoing from the Octagon Anti-chamber. He followed the voices, one of which sounded familiar with her distinctive Russian accent. Leon stayed close behind his brother. Fyror’s gaze quickly took in the room, noting the dead covered up body, the Grand Duchess Elizaveta, and three other strangers, one of which was quickly leaving. But what caught his attention the most, and subsequently sent his hand flying down to the hilt of his sword in an instant, was the large tiger that had taken up residence in the room. His eyes widened and his heart began to beat more rapidly in his chest, but he took up a defensive stance nonetheless.
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