Obscene Symphony

Of Blood and Magic

_{Interacting with: Varis @Achronum}

As they neared the noble dormitory buildings, a warm sense of familiarity blossomed in Aaron's chest. He'd only been away from home for a few hours, but still the sight of Noila family colours brought him some comfort; he hadn't quite realized how tense he'd been until he relaxed a little at the sight.

Looking around inside revealed more of a neutral atmosphere, gold tones on soothing white - a calm environment for a stressed student. The front door opened into a hallway, with a dining room on the left and a sitting room on the right. Aaron stood in the entryway as Varis explored, closing the front door and glancing around at what rooms he could see as he waited for Varis to make the first rounds. He wanted to check out the house too, but truth be told he was a little nervous. No matter; there'd be time for that later.

It didn't take Varis long to finish his inspection, though Aaron did note he spent more time in one bedroom than the other, probably his own. When he had satisfied himself, he called down the hall with an order for Aaron to unpack and meet him in the study. Aaron gave Varis an affirmative nod as he passed him in the hallway, peering into each room and promptly entering the one which already held his belongings. Strange, he thought, that it was the same one in which the Count had lingered.

He took only a minute or so to explore the bedroom, bathroom, and closet before he started unpacking, quite pleased with the accommodations. It didn't take long to get himself situated, having cleverly packed his expertly folded clothes in sections easily relocated to drawers and hangers. His other belongings moved quickly as well, toiletries finding homes in the bathroom and various books and other stationery, including a number of journals, nestled neatly on shelves. Aaron let his mind wander as he worked, finding comfort and calm in the tedium, but his reverie had to fade away when he had finished his task. The whole production only took about fifteen minutes; Aaron was sure he'd move things around and personalize his room as he got comfortable here, but that could wait.

With everything in its place and his empty luggage stowed out of sight on the high shelves in his closet, Aaron felt the room was ready. He opted to remove his sword and scabbard from his hip before leaving, hanging the unit carefully in the closet before he went to the study. He'd find a better home for it later, but for now, the closet would do. Looking over the neatly arranged room once more, he suddenly wished there was more to be done, but everything was nicely in place, and he had no excuse to stay in there any longer. He hadn't been quite aware of it, but he was inwardly dreading that trip down the hall.

Aaron took another deep breath to stretch out the nervous constriction in his chest and made his way to the study, where he found Varis seated at one of the desks with a few sealed letters in front of him. Stopping a short distance away from the desks, he straightened his posture and folded his hands behind his back once more, spinning his ring. He opted to stay silent this time, thinking it wise to let the Count do the talking.

Suddenly, he was acutely aware that he and the vampire were entirely alone, free from the scrutiny - or perhaps the security - of any prying eyes. After having experienced what Varis could and would do in public view, Aaron wasn't sure how that made him feel; a certain nagging tightness in his gut put him a little on edge, not unlike a prey animal in the vicinity of a predator. As much as he wished his prior confidence to return, he was struggling to find it. He forced his mind away from the subject, inwardly scolding himself for being such a coward, and stayed firm in his posture as he waited for Varis to speak.

Obscene's Scratchpad

_{Interacting with: Varis @Achronum}

As they neared the noble dormitory buildings, a warm sense of familiarity blossomed in Aaron's chest. He'd only been away from home for a few hours, but still the sight of Noila family colours brought him some comfort; he hadn't quite realized how tense he'd been until he relaxed a little at the sight.

Looking around inside revealed more of a neutral atmosphere, gold tones on soothing white - a calm environment for a stressed student. The front door opened into a hallway, with a dining room on the left and a sitting room on the right. Aaron stood in the entryway as Varis explored, closing the front door and glancing around at what rooms he could see as he waited for Varis to make the first rounds. He wanted to check out the house too, but truth be told he was a little nervous. No matter; there'd be time for that later.

It didn't take Varis long to finish his inspection, though Aaron did note he spent more time in one bedroom than the other, probably his own. When he had satisfied himself, he called down the hall with an order for Aaron to unpack and meet him in the study. Aaron gave Varis an affirmative nod as he passed him in the hallway, peering into each room and promptly entering the one which already held his belongings. Strange, he thought, that it was the same one in which the Count had lingered.

He took only a minute or so to explore the bedroom, bathroom, and closet before he started unpacking, quite pleased with the accommodations. It didn't take long to get himself situated, having cleverly packed his expertly folded clothes in sections easily relocated to drawers and hangers. His other belongings moved quickly as well, toiletries finding homes in the bathroom and various books and other stationery, including a number of journals, nestled neatly on shelves. The whole production only took about fifteen minutes; Aaron was sure he'd move things around and personalize his room as he got comfortable here, but that could wait.

With everything in its place and his empty luggage stowed out of sight on the high shelves in his closet, Aaron felt the room was ready. He opted to remove his sword and scabbard from his hip before leaving, hanging the unit carefully in the closet before he went to the study. He'd find a better home for it later, but for now, the closet would do.

Aaron took another deep breath to stretch out the nervous constriction in his chest and made his way to the study, where he found Varis seated at one of the desks with a few sealed letters in front of him. Stopping a short distance away from the desks, he straightened his posture and folded his hands behind his back once more, spinning his ring. He opted to stay silent this time, thinking it wise to let the Count do the talking.

Obscene's Scratchpad

Aurelia steadied herself with a breath as she set foot into the courtyard, steeling herself for the first leg of her journey. The path from the castle doors to her stagecoach couldn't have been more than twenty-five steps, but it stretched obscenely before her like a winding path all the way to Sommerfirth. Flanked on either side by visiting nobles and family members alike, it reminded her of a funeral procession; waiting at the end was her hearse, attended by her draconic undertaker.

Firm in her resolve, Aurelia painted on her best "excited bride-to-be" smile and stepped off the landing and into the sunlight, making her way down the line, individually saying her goodbyes to her brothers and their families, and smiling and nodding to the visiting nobles who had attended to pay their respects. It was excruciating to be sure, both the sadness of saying goodbye to her family and the maddening slowness required to conduct this ridiculous custom at all. If she had had her way, she would have broken out in a run and taken refuge in the coach; sadly, etiquette was a shackle most firmly fastened around the ankles of royalty.

She lingered a touch longer with her father at the end of the line, letting him take her hands in his and accepting, with newly tear-filled eyes, a kiss on the cheek after his formal farewell had been recited. She was reluctant to go (especially seeing that the same shine in her eyes had glazed over her father's), but finally, she had to tear herself away.

At her stagecoach at last, she turned an eye back at the line of nobles, following them with her eyes to the castle walls and up, up until she had to squint at the blinding white of the sunbathed towers above them. It hurt her eyes, but still she stared nonetheless until the light had burned away the tears that threatened in her eyes.

It was only reluctantly that she turned away; she could feel the pressure of time and she knew she couldn’t linger any longer. Turning back to the carriage, only one challenge remained. The half-breed, armour glinting in the sun, alien face all but covered by his helmet, awaited her. When she neared, he offered his hand to her.

For a second, she simply stared at the clawed, scaled hand before her in morbid fascination; she normally would have snubbed the offer, and perhaps have summoned a different knight to escort her into the carriage.Hell, she would have chosen another knight altogether. But she wouldn't embarrass herself now. She remembered the scornful looks she'd gotten when she snapped at the half-breed in the throne room. She'd been stricken by shock then, but wouldn't make a fool of herself this time.

With only a brief hesitation, she took the hand offered to her, ever-so-gently grasping it and allowing the dragonborn to help her into the carriage. She even gave him a polite nod as he did so, as any proper noblewoman would. By all accounts, it was a prime display of etiquette.

His scaly hand was warm, Aurelia noted to her surprise. The silver scales felt more like finely polished stone than steel; while she had never given it more than a passing thought, she'd expected touching him to feel like touching an empty suit of armour.

The thought didn't linger, however, past the closing of the carriage door. By then, she only wondered how far they had to get outside of the palace walls before she could cry.

What Dwells in the Deep

It was a short trip from Linta's tree to her mother's - only a short upward climb and two tightropes away - and she made it there in good time, traversing the ropes with ease. She didn't bother announcing her arrival before she pushed through the barrier of woven willow curtain that closed off her mother's hollow; she could already smell their usual tea brewing inside. She entered just as her mother was settling for their daily meeting.

"You were late this morning," her mother joked when she entered, gingerly arranging her legs beneath her, "I saw you scrambling to get in your offering in time."

"Hush you," Linta chastised in return, unceremoniously plopping herself down opposite her mother, "I bet my offering was better than yours anyway."

Her mother laughed quietly, pulling a fur blanket over her crossed legs while Linta busied herself with serving the tea.

It was very warm in her mother's hollow, with a fire steadily burning in the brazier in the wall and her tightly woven curtain doing a good job of keeping the draft out. It was a little too warm for Linta, who pulled at the collar of her tunic to let some air in, but her mother sat right in front of the fire on the little nest of mats and furs that made up her bed. Her mother wasn't too old, but she had painful joints that ached in the cold, and even though the autumn chill had only just started, it was already starting to bother her.

Linta retrieved a squat wooden tray from a recessed shelf in the wall, a thick rectangular slab with indents in the sides that acted as handles and palm-sized divots in the surface. From the same shelf she retrieved a bowl of carefully hollowed out eggshells, the round bottoms of which fit snugly into the tray. From the bowl she selected two shells, one light blue with brown speckling and the other dark green with a spray of tiny black dots, and set them out on the tray to be filled.

The tea, which had been brewed in a much larger and thicker eggshell kettle (arguably the most valuable possession in anyone's hollow) was a clear light green, like tinted water. It was, however, much more potent than it looked, and the smell, sharp and herbal, filled the hollow as she poured.

When she was done, she placed the kettle back on its little wooden stand (an indented block much like the tray, but larger) and handed her mother the brown shell, keeping the blue one for herself. Her mother sipped hers immediately while Linta set about sweetening her own with honey.

"Did Orik drop by yet today?" Linta asked, not looking up from the stream of honey she was carefully measuring.

"Oh yes," her mother replied, "Brought another packet of medicine too."

"Oh really, how is it working?" Linta asked.

"Like a blessing," her mother sighed, rubbing one of her knees, "This one hasn't complained at all today."

Linta smiled. Her cousin Orik, son to her late father's sister, had been bringing her mother a new medicine recently. Something his own mother, an established ersha, had been working on to try and alleviate joint pain. It was made from rare components, so her mother was lucky to be able to test it.

Linta stayed for a little while, finishing her tea and chatting as they did every day. Of course, it was only a matter of time before her mother brought up the only topic anyone who knew her had in mind.

"So, have you had any luck in your search?"

Linta stifled a groan, opting instead for a heavy exhale. Impulsively she gathered the end of her tail in her lap, fiddling with the feathers and beads that decorated it.

"No luck yet," she admitted.

Her mother's eyes softened. "Oh come now, it's not the end of the world," she cooed, "You'll find your ari in due time."

"I just don't understand," Linta sighed, "I thought I've done everything right, but the spirits don't seem to agree."

"Hush," her mother scolded gently, "Don't think like that. You'll find one when your time comes."

Linta nodded down at her tail, and her mother pulled her into a hug. She knew this was a touchy subject for her. She was more than old enough now, having left home and carved her own hollow (a good one, she thought) and having, she thought, taken on her adult responsibilities. She did what was asked of her by her elders, she contributed her share to the food stocks and if she was needed elsewhere, she would go. She hadn't found a specialty yet, fine, but lots of people determined that after finding their ari. She didn't know why the treyu didn't think she was ready for adulthood yet. What more could she do?

"You know what?" Linta's mother finally mentioned, "Orik told me Mara might be looking for some help with collecting materials. Maybe you should help her!"

Linta didn't hesitate. "Of course," she offered, "I'm always willing to help Aunt Mara."

"Good," her mother laughed, "Because you know how Orik can be. He means well, but I can't imagine he'll be a huge help when he gets over to the west tree..."

They both laughed. It was true, Orik was sweet but had a habit of getting distracted, especially when a certain black-haired Canopy girl came into the mix.

"Besides," Linta's mother added coyly, "You'll have to look pretty deep into the foliage and around the village borders. You never know what you'll find..."

~ / / / ~

It was nearing noon when Linta finally left her mother's hollow, making her way across the criss-cross of tightropes to the south tree in search of her aunt. When she got there, Mara was glad for her offer of help and handed her a few pouches and a list of what she was to gather and sent her on her way.

Her gathering mission took Linta into the canopy on the edges of the village, where the foliage was thicker owing to the reduced traffic. All manner of plant life lived up here, from little vines taking advantage of the sunlight to the leaves of the mighty trees themselves. Linta was a skilled climber and navigated the thin branches with ease, bouncing occasionally from one to the other, relishing each instant of suspension over the endless drop below. She did a pretty good job of finding the items her aunt requested of her - bark from this vine, nectar from that flower, buds from this plant, etc. - but kept a sharp eye out all the while for the streak of brilliant white and blue that would signify her transition to adulthood. It never did come, but when her pouches were full and she was turning back home, she noticed something comparatively interesting.

It was a nest, a very large one, settled into the tallest branches of that particular tree (though it was almost impossible to tell which branches belonged to what trees), with three shining black eggs nestled neatly in it, each about the size of Linta's head. It was a Qian nest, the enormous predatory birds that occasionally worked up the gall to try and carry off children before they were driven away by the Canopy garrison. Needless to say, the presence of a nest here, so close to the village, was a serious problem.

However, those eggs were a valuable commodity in the village. Their shells were especially thick, and they were what everyone's kettles and cooking pots were made of.

Unfortunately, as Linta determined when she was getting ready to raid the nest, she had no bags on her large enough to hold the eggs, and running through the branches with your arms full was a death wish. Still, she didn't want to waste this opportunity.

If she couldn't take the eggs home, she could at least hang on to the memory. Pulling her journal out of a pocket on her leg, she settled herself somewhat comfortably between two branches, pulled out a charred wooden stick and started sketching.

Within about ten minutes she had a good sketch going of most of the nest and was starting on the eggs when a shadow passed over her. She froze. Her heartbeat filled her ears.

The shadow passed over her again, and a huge mass of brown feathers filled her view. She felt the buffeting of air on her face as the bird flapped around the nest. Panicking, Linta threw her journal at the beast and scrambled down under the canopy where the qian couldn't reach her, rushing through the branches and back to the village, straight to the garrison to report the bird. She'd gone further out of the village than she had thought, but she made it back in time for the garrison to dispatch. The screeching she heard in the few minutes that followed told her the garrison had taken care of the threat.

Of Blood and Magic

_{Interacting with: Varis @Achronum}

Varis ignored Aaron's ending question (fine, it was mostly rhetorical anyway) and handed him his phone instead. Aaron took it and entered in his contact information (noting that Varis had only included his first initial and briefly wondering why) as he listened to the Count's rules expectations, handing it back when he was done.

Still a little light of foot after taking inventory of his skills, Aaron now silently chastised himself as the vampire brought him back down to earth. Of course he would be the judge of Aaron's skill, anyone would be a fool to take a braggart at his word and it was entirely reasonable to demand proof. The command for a sparring partner piqued Aaron's interest; he had spent his training years sparring with more or less the same people, and he was interested to see what kinds of weapons and skill the Academy student body had to offer. He wasn't sure how he'd go about finding a sparring partner on such short notice, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited at the prospects. Aaron's heart lifted a touch out of its solemnity. Whatever the reason he'd been sent here, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

He nodded along as Varis spoke, uttering a curt "yes," or "of course," whenever necessary. The Count's expectations were high, and his rules strict. However, Aaron didn't mind Varis' rigid expectations for his academic performance; in fact, what most might hear as a vague threat, he heard as a challenge. A compliment, even. He was vainly flattered that he would be important enough a presence in his master's life that he would be held to such high standards, and he'd always taken that responsibility to heart, always reveled in the opportunity and the drive to improve.

Something ticked in the back of his head and the bottom of his gut, spiking every few steps before sinking again. Lingering discomfort from their earlier... interaction. Aaron did his best to shake it off; failing that, he pushed it down with a deep breath and turned his mind to matters at hand.

He took no issue with Varis' mention of what sounded like a dietary plan (he was used to that, and it might be relaxing not to have to worry about planning his every meal on his own) and his request - or demand, rather - for medical information was nothing new. Aaron had those records neatly arranged in a file folder in his luggage somewhere, but luckily there wasn't much to worry about. The Noilas had done an excellent job of keeping his family healthy over the generations, another thing he was grateful to them for.

As he was turning things over in his mind, wondering who he might find as a sparring partner and how he'd perform compared to Varis' standards, Aaron almost didn't notice the sudden turn the Count made away from what looked to be the student dorms. He was puzzled in the instant it took for him to turn as well, but understood when he saw where they were going. Of course, those combined dorms weren't where they were going. The Academy would never force a noble vampire to board alongside the common population; the very idea would be an insult to more than a few of the nobles he knew of, and in a world where old deeds never truly die, it was best to avoid conflict. In fact, Aaron vaguely remembered hearing that it had been a Sinnenodel girl who had raised enough hell to have separate housing built back at the start of the Academy's long history. Of course, he could have been mistaken; they had spent surprisingly little time on the Academy during his education, and it was practically fact that at any given time somewhere around Noila castle someone was almost assuredly whispering about the Sinnenodels.

Still, the sight of the nobles' dorms at the end of the complex was exciting. It hadn't quite sunk in until then, but this would be Aaron's first time living more or less on his own. He spun his ring on his finger behind his back, discreetly fidgeting in anticipation.

Obscene's Scratchpad

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pinterest.ca/pin/AUiqJziPqM_9wmSFq6th…

Obscene's Scratchpad

It was a short trip from Linta's tree to her mother's - only a short upward climb and two tightropes away - and she made it there in good time, traversing the ropes with ease. She didn't bother announcing her arrival before she pushed through the barrier of woven willow curtain that closed off her mother's hollow; she could already smell their usual tea brewing inside. She entered just as her mother was settling for their daily meeting.

"You were late this morning," her mother joked when she entered, gingerly arranging her legs beneath her, "I saw you scrambling to get in your offering in time."

"Hush you," Linta chastised in return, unceremoniously plopping herself down opposite her mother, "I bet my offering was better than yours anyway."

Her mother laughed quietly, pulling a fur blanket over her crossed legs while Linta busied herself with serving the tea.

It was very warm in her mother's hollow, with a fire steadily burning in the brazier in the wall and her tightly woven curtain doing a good job of keeping the draft out. It was a little too warm for Linta, who pulled at the collar of her tunic to let some air in, but her mother sat right in front of the fire on the little nest of mats and furs that made up her bed. Her mother wasn't too old, but she had painful joints that ached in the cold, and even though the autumn chill had only just started, it was already starting to bother her.

Linta retrieved a squat wooden tray from a recessed shelf in the wall, a thick rectangular slab with indents in the sides that acted as handles and palm-sized divots in the surface. From the same shelf she retrieved a bowl of carefully hollowed out eggshells, the round bottoms of which fit snugly into the tray. From the bowl she selected two shells, one light blue with brown speckling and the other dark green with a spray of tiny black dots, and set them out on the tray to be filled.

The tea, which had been brewed in a much larger and thicker eggshell kettle (arguably the most valuable possession in anyone's hollow) was a clear light green, like tinted water. It was, however, much more potent than it looked, and the smell, sharp and herbal, filled the hollow as she poured.

When she was done, she placed the kettle back on its little wooden stand (an indented block much like the tray, but larger) and handed her mother the brown shell, keeping the blue one for herself. Her mother sipped hers immediately while Linta set about sweetening her own with honey.

"Did Orik drop by yet today?" Linta asked, not looking up from the stream of honey she was carefully measuring.

"Oh yes," her mother replied, "Brought another packet of medicine too."

"Oh really, how is it working?" Linta asked.

"Like a blessing," her mother sighed, rubbing one of her knees, "This one hasn't complained at all today."

Linta smiled. Her cousin Orik, son to her late father's sister, had been bringing her mother a new medicine recently. Something his own mother, an established ersha, had been working on to try and alleviate joint pain. It was made from rare components, so her mother was lucky to be able to test it.

Linta stayed for a little while, finishing her tea and chatting as they did every day. Of course, it was only a matter of time before her mother brought up the only topic anyone who knew her had in mind.

"So, have you had any luck in your search?"

Linta stifled a groan, opting instead for a heavy exhale. Impulsively she gathered the end of her tail in her lap, fiddling with the feathers and beads that decorated it.

"No luck yet," she admitted.

Her mother's eyes softened. "Oh come now, it's not the end of the world," she cooed, "You'll find your ari in due time."

"I just don't understand," Linta sighed, "I thought I've done everything right, but the spirits don't seem to agree."

"Hush," her mother scolded gently, "Don't think like that. You'll find one when your time comes."

Linta nodded down at her tail, and her mother pulled her into a hug. She knew this was a touchy subject for her. She was more than old enough now, having left home and carved her own hollow (a good one, she thought) and having, she thought, taken on her adult responsibilities. She did what was asked of her by her elders, she contributed her share to the food stocks and if she was needed elsewhere, she would go. She hadn't found a specialty yet, fine, but lots of people determined that after finding their ari. She didn't know why the treyu didn't think she was ready for adulthood yet. What more could she do?

"You know what?" Linta's mother finally mentioned, "Orik told me Mara might be looking for some help with collecting materials. Maybe you should help her!"

Linta didn't hesitate. "Of course," she offered, "I'm always willing to help Aunt Mara."

"Good," her mother laughed, "Because you know how Orik can be. He means well, but I can't imagine he'll be a huge help when he gets over to the west tree..."

They both laughed. It was true, Orik was sweet but had a habit of getting distracted, especially when a certain black-haired Canopy girl came into the mix.

"Besides," Linta's mother added coyly, "You'll have to look pretty deep into the foliage and around the village borders. You never know what you'll find..."

~ / / / ~

It was nearing noon when Linta finally left her mother's hollow, making her way across the criss-cross of tightropes to the south tree in search of her aunt. When she got there, Mara was glad for her offer of help and handed her a few pouches and a list of what she was to gather and sent her on her way.

Her gathering mission took Linta into the canopy on the edges of the village, where the foliage was thicker owing to the reduced traffic. All manner of plant life lived up here, from little vines taking advantage of the sunlight to the leaves of the mighty trees themselves. Linta was a skilled climber and navigated the thin branches with ease, bouncing occasionally from one to the other, relishing each instant of suspension over the endless drop below. She did a pretty good job of finding the items her aunt requested of her - bark from this vine, nectar from that flower, buds from this plant, etc. - but kept a sharp eye out all the while for the streak of brilliant white and blue that would signify her transition to adulthood. It never did come, but when her pouches were full and she was turning back home, she noticed something comparatively interesting.

It was a nest, a very large one, settled into the tallest branches of that particular tree (though it was almost impossible to tell which branches belonged to what trees), with three shining black eggs nestled neatly in it, each about the size of Linta's head. It was a Qian nest, the enormous predatory birds that occasionally worked up the gall to try and carry off children before they were driven away by the Canopy garrison. Needless to say, the presence of a nest here, so close to the village, was a serious problem.

However, those eggs were a valuable commodity in the village. Their shells were especially thick, and they were what everyone's kettles and cooking pots were made of.

Unfortunately, as Linta determined when she was getting ready to raid the nest, she had no bags on her large enough to hold the eggs, and running through the branches with your arms full was a death wish. Still, she didn't want to waste this opportunity.

If she couldn't take the eggs home, she could at least hang on to the memory. Pulling her journal out of a pocket on her leg, she settled herself somewhat comfortably between two branches, pulled out a charred wooden stick and started sketching.

Within about ten minutes she had a good sketch going of most of the nest and was starting on the eggs when a shadow passed over her. She froze. Her heartbeat filled her ears.

The shadow passed over her again, and a huge mass of brown feathers filled her view. She felt the buffeting of air on her face as the bird flapped around the nest. Panicking, Linta threw her journal at the beast and scrambled down under the canopy where the qian couldn't reach her, rushing through the branches and back to the village, straight to the garrison to report the bird. She'd gone further out of the village than she had thought, but she made it back in time for the garrison to dispatch. The screeching she heard in the few minutes that followed told her the garrison had taken care of the threat.

Obscene's Scratchpad

Aurelia had only achieved a few short hours of sleep by the time her personal attendants woke her, opening curtains and setting out breakfast and filling the room with soft, excited chatter. Aurelia would normally have vehemently opposed the early intrusion, but she knew as well as they did that today was a big day.

She rose without protest, accepted an unusually hearty breakfast (oat porridge sprinkled with dried fruit and nuts as opposed to her usual meal of fruit and cheese) and allowed her handmaids to dress and groom her. If not for the date, it would seem like an almost normal morning. However, as she went about her routine, she was also giving orders and opinions as her rooms were torn entirely apart by both her own attendants and their apprentices, offering counsel on what to pack and where, invited or otherwise. She did, however, insist on packing her cosmetics personally, carefully arranging them in padded boxes to ensure none of them would spill or be broken; some of those little pots and jars were very rare and worth an inordinate amount of money, and many were gifts from her father, her brothers, or other figures of consequence looking to curry favour. They contained a wide array of salves, balms, pigments and perfumes of both the liquid and solid variety.

When that was done, she set about packing away her other treasures, personally overseeing the packing of her jewelry after it had been unearthed from the palace vault. She always loved taking inventory of her jewelry, gorgeous pieces in largely sapphire and silver, ranging from grand collier necklaces to priceless earrings and gilded circlets, but it was a small consolation when she knew she was taking them with her only because she was leaving her life behind.

It took all morning to get her affairs in order and by the time she sent the last of her things to the coaches, it was nearing noon, and her rooms were empty save for the furniture. Aurelia took only a moment to herself in the newfound silence to glance around the bare walls and empty shelves, look at the courtyard through the window she'd been using since she was a child. Down there, a procession of stagecoaches in royal regalia awaited to take her to her new home. She could see the few Firthian escorts down there as well, all yellows and blacks from the knights to the coaches, and she noticed that from this height, they looked rather like wasps. In all, it was a magnificent procession indeed, but to Aurelia it still looked like a slaver's caravan.

Now, with the last of her things being loaded into the caravan (they had taken up about four stagecoaches in total, though she was pleased to see two others at the ready) her time was running out. Soon her father's knights would start lining up for a formal sendoff, as would her brothers and their families, all smiles and waves and childlike well-wishes as Aurelia stared down her fate. Her father would be there, dressed to the nines, sending her off to be wed to a foreign king in a far-off land, likely never to be seen again.

But now was not the time for grieving. She would have plenty of time for that later. Now was the time for her to be a princess, and take up the reigns of her duty with pride. She tore her eyes away from the procession in the courtyard below and turned them to her vanity, one of the few possessions she wouldn't be taking with her. On it laid a twisted silver circlet with a single, teardrop-shaped sapphire nested at the front. In the vanity mirror she saw herself, raven hair gleaming in cascading waves over the shoulders of a light cloak, grey in colour and ornately embroidered with shining eagles. Underneath the cloak was a long-sleeved blue gown, rather plain by her standards, but better for travelling, and still much more lavish than anyone outside of noble circles would ever wear in their lifetime. The collar of her cloak concealed the dress' delving neckline, but all in all it was relatively demure a look for the Bastollion Princess.

Gods, I look like a commoner, she thought, sliding onto the padded vanity bench for the last time and giving herself a good, long look. Her emerald eyes shone with a glimmer of wetness, and a hard lump began forming in her throat as she looked on. She blinked hard, scowling into the mirror and breathing deeply to stretch her chest as she picked up the circlet and settled it on her head.

Too late to cry now, she told herself, it's time to do your job.

Of Blood and Magic

_{Interacting with: @Achronum}

The few beats of stillness after the vampire's barrage were eerily calm for Aaron. He was acutely aware of the coolness of the cobblestones under his knee, the shifted weight of the sword on his hip, how the envelope in his jacket was folding as he knelt. He still felt the weight of the vampire's eyes on him, but he remained firm.

Of course, that isn't to say that it wasn't a huge relief when the command to stand finally came. Aaron gratefully rose once he could see that Varis had done so, taking note of the final appraising look he was given before his charge turned heel and started away. Aaron followed without hesitation, falling mercifully back into his comfort zone. Kneeling had been a challenge, but following he could do.

He took the opportunity, with Varis' back turned, to run his hand over the hilt and handle of his sword, still a little shaken from the Count's comment, before folding his hands behind his back once more, fiddling with his ring as he did so. He took note of the speed at which the vampire walked, and how he hardly had to pause to weave through the crowd; on the contrary, really. The crowd seemed to open up for him, and it was blissfully easy to travel in his wake. Aaron felt more comfortable with each step, the anxiety of his earlier display fading as he spent more and more time on his feet.

He listened intently as Varis rattled off his expectations (all of which seemed perfectly reasonable) and asked his questions, waiting until the Count had finished his line of inquiry before answering.

"I do have a phone, yes." Aaron replied, "As for my education, I am pleased to say it has been quite thorough. I've received all of the academic education expected of me from the finest teachers. I've learned extensive court and service etiquette and also received comprehensive training in the areas of magic and swordsmanship from the finest instructors the Noilas have to offer. As of now, I am a capable swordsman and am gaining understanding and rudimentary control of my affinity." As he rattled off his accomplishments, Aaron felt more and more like himself again. He wasn't bragging, but he spoke with the well-practiced confidence of a person who had been taught to be humble but wasn't willing to sell himself short. Graciousness was paramount, but it was rude to preach one's shortcomings.

"As for the noble families," he continued, "Formally, I learned as much as anyone else, albeit in much closer detail than most. Informally, I know that your esteemed house is growing substantially in wealth, gaining ground on the Astorios every day; I know your Lady has expressed her distaste for the recent proposal to amend Mage breeding rights, and that your family had a recent court victory when they were granted an amendment to mortal taxation; speaking of which, it would seem that more than one family has House Eve in their pocket - rumour has it they're fit to collapse any day, and no wonder, what with their continued struggle to determine a line of succession." Aaron tried hard to stunt the grin threatening on his lips, and he walked taller with every step; living in the ruling family's midst had its perks, and noble gossip was certainly one of them. "Shall I go on?"

Of Blood and Magic

“Kneel.”

Where the Count's initial compliment had first swelled him with pride, the following command twisted Aaron's gut in knots. The feeling - a mixture of surprise, dread, and confusion - showed on his face; a flicker of apprehension passed behind his eyes. He stiffened at the command, chest tight, and felt his heart rate quicken.

Don't be foolish! He scolded himself, taking a deep breath to stretch his chest and quell the jitters in his stomach. It was true, he was acting like a fool. Come on, it wasn't as if he'd be the first mage in the world to kneel to his master. Not to mention the fact that this was still a vampire of noble station, and regardless, he was Aaron's superior. There was dignity in service, he reminded himself. Nobody could shame him for doing his job and doing it well.

With this in mind, Aaron stepped forward to the spot the Count had pointed to (a little more solemn this time, thoroughly chastened by the command despite his inner reasoning) and gracefully and obediently sank to one knee. His scabbard settled itself on the cool stones behind him, brass-tipped point making a soft ting as it touched down. Aaron kept his eyes downcast, head down but not relaxed. He could feel the Count's eyes on him every step of the way, the sensation giving him goosebumps despite his best efforts. For a few seconds, he was still and silent.

Aaron very nearly flinched when the vampire's cool fingers made contact with his cheek, brushing softly down to where they took a firmer hold of his jaw. As his face was lifted and examined, Aaron offered no resistance; still, his traitorous heart thundered in his chest, quickening ever more when his cerulean eyes met the amber ones of the vampire he'd be dedicating his life to.

The Count turned Aaron's face this way and that, a little too openly to be innocent. Despite the stream of reasoning in his head, Aaron felt deeply violated as he was examined; the Count wasn't just looking over him, he was making an example of him.

The dread crept from Aaron's heart into his head when Varis turned his head to face William and Sariel, whom Aaron had not noticed when he first approached the fountain. His stomach twisted as he looked helplessly on, not daring to pull away but agonizing over the pained expressions on the faces of his childhood mentors; William kept his usual stoic front, but Aaron knew him well enough to notice the irritation in his eyes, and Sariel was very visibly uncomfortable, looking more sad than angry. They both actively avoided looking at him, their long-time student, reduced to a display of subservience on the cobblestone. Aaron's eyes flicked uneasily between them, and he thanked the powers that be that his mother wasn't here to see this. She'd always dreamed of the day he'd bow his head to a Noila vampire; seeing him on his knees for a Sinnenodel would break her heart. So much for dignity.

“I find it interesting, a Noila giving up a most precious resource. I wonder how you failed.”

The Count's comment landed like a punch to Aaron's gut. Suddenly, every vicious thing he'd ever heard whispered about the Sinnenodels in the walls of Noila castle sprang to mind, as did every self-doubt he'd lost sleep over in the weeks since his invitation to the Academy. Failure, disappointment, not fit to serve the family he so dearly loved... Unprepared, his head dropped limply when Varis finally released him, snapping him out of his toxic reverie.

Back in the present, Aaron steadied his head immediately (couldn't just let it hang limp like a prisoner), jaw clenched, blinking rapidly as he kept his eyes - glowing faintly golden in places from the agitation - firmly trained on the ground.

“How long would it take to have a new sword forged? I'm not sure I'm fond of my servant wearing Noila gifts.”

Aaron didn't dare answer, but his right hand twitched toward his scabbard. He could see the sword clearly in his mind, with its brassy mirror finish and its pommel in the shape of the rising sun; it was a precious gift he'd been given on his Awakening day, and arguably his most valued possession. It was also a conduit for his magic, and he'd be devastated if he were to lose it.

Aaron remained still and silent on his knees, heart thundering in his ears, but beginning to slow. He couldn't sit there and shake like a frightened child. He had a reputation to uphold, both for his own family and the royal family. Be it for diplomacy or because he'd somehow failed them that he had been thrust into this position, Aaron still had to hold himself to that standard. He'd trained his whole life until this point to serve well; now was the time to prove it.

@Achronum