Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

🩸 FIRST FLOOR - MV ...
 
Share:
Notifications
Clear all

🩸 FIRST FLOOR - MV Blood Den [La Banque du Sang]

Page 1 / 2

Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 862
Journey starter  

Shaarn Nalos  - [Bordello Barrio] - FROM: The Red Light District - MAIN HUB


BloodBank(blood den) [SHAARN Nalos]

╺ ✽ ╸

LA BANQUE DU SANG

"The Blood Bank"

FIRST FLOOR

(officially franchised blood den*


[Staircase To] La Banque du Sang - The Bidding Lounge


La Banque du Sang is an officially franchised blood den in Shaarn Nalos that is legally sanctioned 1 by the local chapter of the Monstrum Venandi Guild.  The guild acts as the primary owner and majority investor of the franchise, though their main function is to protect  the establishment, staff, and contracted or employed Donors from the creatures who patronize the business.  Although the guild is the main source of  financial support for the franchise, they do not involve themselves in any marketing, staff hiring, or contracting with Donors.  Additionally, they do not  have a direct hand in any of the day-to-day operations of the business.  

La Banque du Sang, or "The Blood Bank" is an upscale blood den in Shaarn Nalos that is officially owned and sanctioned by the local chapter of the Monstrum Venandi Guild (aka -"Monster Hunters Guild")La Banque du Sang is a high-end establishment where creatures that require blood may go to legally feed and socialize. 

The Blood Bank provides its patrons with an elegant setting that includes many luxurious accommodations, and offers classy, tastefully appointed social spaces, as well as lavish, handsomely decorated private areas for its VIP members and special guests

La Banque du Sang is also the  only  blood den in Shaarn that allows its patrons the exclusive privilege of bidding on select Donors, who have agreed to auction off their rare and/or exotic blood to the highest bidder.  Auction Donors may choose to offer either a live feeding or a set number of donated pints.  All patrons may access our exclusive "Bidding Lounge", but only those who intend on bidding can stay once the auction starts.

La Banque du Sang is split between three floors, much like the nearby Scratching Post brothel.  It  features a number of amenities available to patrons, with access granted to certain areas or floors depending on the privileges and special permissions that have been given to each individual patron.  Generally speaking, the more exclusive the area, the more a patron must pay to access it.  Patrons may also be granted access to exclusive areas by special invitation, a premade agreement (including pre-payment) with one of our top-tier and/or exotic blood Donors, or by accompanying a VIP member who has agreed to pay an insurance fee as well as vouch for said patron.


╺ ✽ ╸

  • FIRST FLOOR:  Open to all patrons.  Customers are invited to sit and socialize as they share a bottle of sang rare or sang exotique (rare blood or exotic blood) while relaxing in our comfortably appointed  Le Salon Rouge. (The Red Lounge)  Or feel free to grab a drink or sample different blood types at the  Barre du Sang. (The Blood Bar)  There are private VIP Lounges on this level available to our VIP patrons, those who have been given special access, and those who have been invited and vouched for by a VIP Pass holder.  
    • [PLEASE NOTE:  NO Live Feeding is allowed on the Main Floor.]

 

  • SECOND FLOOR: Is the location of the Bidding Lounge, which features a well-lit auction stage surrounded by lounge tables and booths. Additionally, there are private rooms and partitioned lounges available for the winners of each Donor Auction, whether the Donor is offering Live Feeding or Donated Pints.

 

  • THIRD FLOOR: Is the most heavily guarded floor and is where our Live Feeding Lounges are located.  Patrons may access this area once they have shown they can be trusted to partake in feeding on one of our Live Donors.  Patrons must also prove that they have the bankroll to afford such an exclusive luxury.  Once granted access to the Third Floor, patrons may socialize with our Live Donors before deciding on whose blood and time they will purchase. Every Live Donor has the final say as to whether or not they wish to sell their time and blood to a customer, and coercion, bribery, blackmail and the like will not be tolerated and will result in being permanently banned from every blood den in Shaarn.

A WORD OF CAUTION

ALL areas of La Banque du Sang where Patrons and Donors come into contact, are guarded by members from the Monstrum Venandi Guild. This includes all ostensibly "private" areas.  La Banque du Sang has the privilege to be guarded by a special team of pureblood, Alpha Vampires2 called, "The Blue Bloods".  La Banque du Sang is also guarded by a number of other entities that can and will put down any patron that violates our rules.



Spoiler
Main Floor Lounge
 

BloodBank (BloodDen Main) [SHAARN Nalos] wFRAME

Spoiler
A bottle of 'sang exotique'

BloodBank (BloodWine) [SHAARN Nalos] frame

Spoiler
An exclusive 'Live Donor'
 

BloodBanks (LiveDonor) [SHAARN Nalos] Frame

Spoiler
One of our 'Private Lounges'
 

BloodBank (VIPLoungeBar) [SHAARN Nalos] wFRAME

 

 


*This blood den has been legally sanctioned by the Shaarn chapter of the Monstrum Venandi Guild

1 PLEASE NOTE:  Only official, legally sanctioned and guild-owned  blood dens can and will provide any guarantee of safety for its staff and donors.  Donors and staff that are injured in any manner at one of our officially sanctioned blood dens, have access to legal recourse and may be entitled to compensation.  Donors who are injured at an unofficial, unlicensed blood den, have no guarantee of safety and are thusly not entitled to legal aid or recompense.

2 Alpha Vampires are pureblood, natural-born vampires whose blood has not been diluted with the blood of another race.  Most importantly, Alpha Vampires are able to exert their will over all Lesser Vampires or "made vampires". Therefore, Alpha Vampires can exert a level of control over all Lesser Vampires, which they will do if any of our vampiric patrons go into a feeding frenzy or threaten to completely drain a Live Donor.

TOM-CAT: [KIANA BEACH:First Stab - POUNCE (★1/2) - WATCHER BATTLE (3/★4/5/6/★7)] [GOBLIN SLAYING: (1)-(☆1/2)] – [ICE CAVES: CLIFFHANGER (★1/2) - POWDER KEG (★1/2/3) - HYPOTHERMIA (4/5/6) - BONDED (7/8/9/)] [SUNSTEALER:(1/2/3/4)-(1/2)] –Miiya & Cat-Tom [SPARRING: (1/2/★3)] - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss Overwhelmed by Intimacy Returning to Her Bath Time Bonding Wings, Tails, & Love Cave Storms Climbing the Walls [1st KISS: Chase-(★2/3/4)] Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! Cat-Tom vs. Skaven (Forced) Shift Back 9 Lives A Beast in the Darkness Reuniting w/Teleskela Bored Nihilism Cat vs. Dragon Emotionally Exhausted Bath Catboy, Interrupted All For Her Bellissimo Gato [BATH-HOUSE: Confessions(1/2/3/4)] Catboys Can Purr Bagels, Love Poems & Catnapping Love Poem [FIGHT PIT: CHAMPION SUITE (★1.No, no, no.../2a-2b/3.Prostitution/★4.Tipsu/5/6a-6b/★7a-7b.Holden's/Proposition) - GRAND ARENA (Leona/F#1/★F#4/★Cat-Tom vs.Werewolf: 1/2/3) - LOST (1/★2) - FOUND (3/4a-4b/5/★6.Swansong Kiss) - RESCUE (★1.Teleskela, MF'er/2/3.Reawakened Bond) - ESCAPE (4/5/6/7)]
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Teasing Amarice - [DAYTRIP: LAVISH HAND (1/2/3a-3b/4.Sensing Death] - Kissing Fate(1a-1b) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi - Cormeum MIA (stolen heart) - A Vow & Shadowy Msg
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[CHATTE]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
[ASMODIEL & GALVINA] ★A Celestial & Demoness Play Cards - Asmodiel Smites a Feeder - An Angel & Aeros Walk Into a Bar... - Undaunted Spirit - Benediction
──────────────────
[☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


Pioloss and Irihi liked
Quote
NoOne
(@noone)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 677
 

Blood Den LPC


Asmodiel (apathetic celestial)v2 [BLOOD DEN] LPC

ASMODIEL

An Apathetic Celestial

 

Asmodiel is a Power.  He is a Celestial soldier, a sword forged by the One’s hand; a weapon quenched in the inflexible steel of the Word, carefully honed to a cutting edge.  He is made to protect, to defend, to fight; he is made to be merciless.  

He is not a Throne, a Cherubim, or even a Principality—he is not meant to stand back and observe.  He is not made for contemplation.  The mettle of what defines Asmodiel was hammered to the song of War: the marching beat of hands on drums; the shift and snap of wings mantled in anticipation; the whistle of air past his ears and streaming over his feathers; the slide of steel from a leather sheath.   He is made to fight.  He is a sword forged from the ore of beauty and grace, and quenched in the waters of conviction; he is as sleek and as fast as the justice he metes unto his enemies.

 

Well, all of that used  to be true, at least.  He’s still a Power, yes…he’s just less so.

 

Nowadays, Asmodiel is less a sword than he is the sheath that carries it.  That’s not to say the blade within is blunt or its sharpness dulled—his beveled edges are still as keen as the day he was forged in the white hot fire of the One’s presence.  He can still easily cleave through demonic hordes with graceful, stony–faced proficiency, just as easily as he can burn out the eyes of the feeders  that waltz through the den in a faceless and seemingly unending rotation, with a mere press of his palm.

To this day, he will never understand why that mistake wasn’t corrected as soon as it was detected, because there’s nothing else to call it, to call them, except an aberration.  Most Celestials see feeders in general as a flaw within the natural order of things, and as most of them are tasked with keeping the fabric of the worlde in order, on a whole Celestials will seek to iron out those little wrinkles whenever they’re confronted by them.  And if Asmodiel had found a place like La Banque du Sang just a few centuries ago, he’d have wiped it and everything within it, from existence—no questions asked.  He would have atomized every single living thing (and every single not–living thing) within the establishment, including the poor, desperate souls whose last resort was to post up as thirst traps for anonymous plasma–juicers, in exchange for money.

 

That was a few centuries ago.  These days…eh.

 

It's amazing what time, boredom, and apathy can do to anyone, including a Celestial. To be sure, Asmodiel still believes that all feeders are inherently vile unnatural  creatures who should be slaughtered in the streets, but he just doesn't...care enough to do anything about it.  Sure, he still enjoys starting an inferno inside of a feeder and burning it from the inside out until it's nothing more than a burnt out, empty husk, but really, who doesn't? (Besides, seeing the charred and smoking, blackened sockets where their eyes once were is always rewarding.)

Even then, the Monstrum Vernandi  typically needs to plead a good case for him to make the effort in the first place, which they do on occasion.  He once thought that beings like Celestials and demons couldn’t suffer from such an Uman  foible such as ennui, but clearly that’s not true.  Ironically enough, it’s the Crossroads Demoness that provides any sort of reprieve from the banality of, well, everything.  She’s ostensibly why Asmodiel stays—and why he doesn’t smite her on the spot. 

 

He isn’t about to destroy the one thing that currently made generally existing that much less tedious.

 

Though...she cheats at cards; he knows it.  Asmodiel hasn’t caught her yet, but it’s just a matter of time before he does.  So at the very least, he can’t won’t  smite her until he catches her cheating red–handed.  He has to know is curious how she does it, how she cheats, because he suspects that she cheats at everything, from Poker to Le Truc to Old Maid

He will smite her once she reveals her secret tricks...

 

...later. 

 

For now,

 

Do you have any Fours?” he asks.


Wynterleaf, Irihi, Pioloss and 1 people liked
ReplyQuote
NoOne
(@noone)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 677
 

Blood Den LPC


Crossroads Demoness

GALVINA

The Crossroads Demoness

 

Across the table, Galvina peers over the top of her cards at Asmodiel, her magenta eyes lit by the reflected glow of whichever demonic  realm from which she hails.  The Demoness openly studies the pleasing hollows and angles of the Celestial’s graceful features, watching as the light refracts through the crystal facets of his tumbler and dances along the silky planes of his skin, when he raises the glass to his lips.  He takes a sip of the amber liquid and Galvina follows the smooth rise and fall of his throat as he swallows.  

Asmodiel notices the attention and the Demoness shoots him a wry grin in response to his raised brow.  He stares at her over the rim of his drink before setting his glass down on the table between them, the gleam of his eyes practically neon green in contrast to the darkness of his skin.  “Well?” he presses.  “Any Fours, parum pseudolo (little cheat)?” 

Galvina just laughs, not bothered at all by the Celestial’s words.  She leans an elbow on the table and props her chin in her hand, a corner of her mouth twitching upwards.  The game is currently tied, each of them only needing to make one more match to win…and from the way Asmodiel glances at the cards in his hand, the Demoness knows he’s confident that he’ll take this round.  He’d probably never willingly admit it, but he has a tremendous competitive streak and an almost compulsive need to win.  Galvina suspects that the concept of “losing” had been all but foreign to the warrior angel—at least until he’d met her. 

She makes a show of studying her cards and allows her lips to form into a little pout.  “Nope!” she says suddenly, her gaze snapping up to his own.  “Go fish, xi she-ki (my pet).” 

Galvina doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of the way Asmodiel’s jaw subtly ticks whenever she calls him that.  Well, at least not anytime soon; the apathetic angel has proven to be an unexpected diversion from the usual mundanity of making deals with desperate, down on their luck, and hard-up people—donors and feeders, alike.  Galvina has been making crossroads deals for long enough to know that, once they’ve reached a point in their life where they seek her out, most people are pretty damn boring and predictable with what they ask for. 

All, Please, I just want to take care of my family,’ or, I’d give anything as long as so-and-so gets healthy, with the occasional, Take my soul—I wanna be filthy vithing rich!’. 

The most pathetic requests are always the feeders, by far.  It’s always the same with them. ‘Please, I can’t take the hunger anymore—I’ll give you whatever  you want, just turn me back…’, and, ‘Wah, I murdered my whole family and ate them, boo hoo, change me back!’ 

Honestly, it's so refreshing when a meatbag comes to make a deal with her and simply asks her to kill someone, that Galvina sometimes gives them 'one on the house'—by shaving off several years of their life instead of taking their soul, of course.  Nothing in the worlde is truly free, after all, and she thinks "philanthropy" is a dirty word.

The Crossroads Demoness watches Asmodiel draw a card from the nearby stack, and favors the Celestial with a wide-mouthed grin.  She pretends to check her cards before asking, “Do you have any Eights?”  The glint in her red-violet eyes hints that she knows perfectly well that he had exactly  what she needs. 

Asmodiel gives her a bland look before dutifully handing over the Eight of Diamonds and the Eight of Clubs, leaving him with three cards.  The angel makes a small, disbelieving noise in the back of his throat when Galvina deftly flips around two of her own cards, revealing the Eight of Spades and the Eight of Hearts, which, with the cards he just gave her, completes her final set.

That looks like another win for me!” she chirps with a smug grin that she makes no attempt to hide.

Asmodiel throws down his remaining cards—yeah, the angel was kind of a sore loser, too.  How?! he demands, his emerald irises lighting up with righteous exasperation.  

Galvina doesn’t bother answering him and just gathers up the cards and begins shuffling the deck.  “That puts you at 0 for 6.”  She gives the Celestial a sly look.  “Go Fish obviously isn't’ your game, xi she-ki,”  she says, shrugging.  “How about we switch to Halarian Ratscrew?” she suggests.  

For a moment, Asmodiel appears mildly disgruntled, before abruptly knocking back the rest of his single malt.  He stares grumpily into his empty glass before sighing, his brow smoothing out as his usual mask of indifference settles over him.  He waves a hand at her dismissively.   “Fine,” he says flatly, his blasé tone clearly signaling exactly how many jooks he gave right then. 

He pours himself another drink.  

The Crossroads Demoness rolls her eyes at the Celestial sitting across from her, but nevertheless deals the cards.  She gives the angel a smirk and suggests a wager. "Best 2 out of 3," she states, before adding, "winner has to deal with the next 'misbehaving feeder'  the MV are too lazy to handle themselves."

 


Wynterleaf, Irihi, Pioloss and 1 people liked
ReplyQuote
Pioloss
(@pioloss)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 324
 

OOC: From the Sump

Pioloss didn’t know what he had been expecting as he strode - warily, yet exuding all of the confidence he could muster - into the first level of the Banque du Sang. But it certainly hadn’t been this! 

The place was clean and well maintained, with tables and chairs spread neatly throughout the room and secluded looking booths dotted around the edges. At first glance it was just like any other reputable Inn, and though the smell of blood pervaded the air, it was not overwhelming as Pioloss had initially feared but more like a pleasant backdrop. Yes, just like any other reputable Inn. Assuming one could ignore the cold, calculating stares of the notably pale guards interspersed amongst the paying customers. Monstrum Verandi? He wondered. Well possibly, but then again, maybe not. From what Pioloss had heard of the M.V they were a force to be reckoned with, and not to be taken lightly. Yet for all their menacing appearance, the guards had already seemingly lost interest in the two newcomers and were back to simply looking bored where they leaned with an almost feline grace against the walls. 

Before entering, Pioloss had taken the time to dust himself off, straightening up his attire and appearance as much as was possible. Thankfully the new clothes he had purchased in Tuk-Cal were still reasonably presentable, at least compared to his old ones! But he was still far from in danger of being mistaken for a member of the local aristocracy! But there was nothing for it now. He would just have to make up for any shortcomings in the clothing department by faking it until he could make it! And so affecting his best, most disinterested air, Pioloss strode imperiously up to the bar.

“A glass of your finest red, and a water for my thrall here.” Pioloss said, studiously ignoring the barman as much as possible, and fighting the urge to shoot an apologetic glance towards Rigel. 

Despite his current lack of funds, he made sure to tip the barman well before taking a long draught of the thick liquid. Stars above! He thought. It was even warm! And despite everything Pioloss found himself starting to believe that he could learn to like this place! A shame that the likelihood was that he was never going to get the chance! And after allowing himself a single, deep swallow Pioloss forced himself to feign choking on the delicious, delicious nectar and hold the glass out in front of him as if it had somehow offended him. “But what’s this? Your finest? A shame then for I have heard a great many good things pertaining to the Banque du Sang! Yet now I find myself struggling to believe them if this is what yew call your finest! From a bottle? Man but I expect such a vintage to come from a vein!”

 


Irihi liked
ReplyQuote
NoOne
(@noone)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 677
 

Belkin the Dhampir

Even the Du Sang had it’s bottom-dwellers, though they were several cuts above what one would find in other, similar establishments in Sharnn. Pioloss’s entry and antics had been ignored by the majority of staff and patrons. He and his garden-variety juice pack were clearly new in town. Either he had quickly assessed the current local fad of stepping out in rags, or he was as destitute as he looked. At any rate, he merited only a passing glance from most of the regulars, save those at the very bottom of the pecking order. Belkin Contarre was one of these; a Dhampir on the cusp of fully turning, without benefit of deep pockets or wealthy patrons. 

As such, Belkin did warrant the attention of security, at the least. He was allowed in because he generally scraped together enough coin to remain presentable--he was dressed in suitable, if a bit creased and rumpled, attire--and to purchase the increasing quantities of blood necessary to slake his thirst. However, the rank-and-file of the Monstrum Venandi were well aware of his downward spiral and kept a careful eye on him, watching for the moment when desperation outweighed self-preservation. 

Meanwhile, though, Belkin was free to roam the first floor. In recent weeks he had turned opportunist, and heard it come knocking at Pioloss’s indignant sputter, and appeared at the lanky Dhampir’s elbow shortly thereafter. 

“Oh, I know, friend; there’s little pleasure to be had here on the lower levels, despite them Robbin ya blind.” He commiserated with the complaining newcomer. Belkin tried to keep his attention on Pioloss, but it kept drifting to the barely-touched glass of blood in the man’s hand. He had the impression of somewhat travel-worn clothing, smoke, and perhaps a whiff of The Sump still clinging to Pioloss, but just as surely he did not care. There were two things Belkin wanted--and one of them was being swirled idly by the other dhampir. Draining Rigel dry was his second--and more fervent--desire, but attempting that here would undoubtedly see his life cut very short, very quickly. “But maybe I can help yew find sommat better. My name’s Belkin, by the by.” He stuck out a hand and tried to paste up a friendly smile. 

Whether Pioloss shook hands or not, Belkin would press on, speaking more to the glass of blood than to the man that held it. “I--ah--know the place pretty well, and I could--uh--finish that swill yer holdin’ fer ya and then show yas around.” In better days the thirsty Dhampir had visited all the levels of La Banque Du Sang, and was more than willing to show Pioloss around--once he had some blood in him. Even if he had wanted to give a tour gratis--and he emphatically did not want to--there was no way security was letting the twitchy Dhampir upstairs, or anywhere near a donor, until he had slaked his thirst. “Whaddaya say, friend?”


Rigel and Pioloss liked
ReplyQuote
Rigel
(@rigel)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 298
 

Rigel followed Pioloss into the Banque du Sang with his eyes downcast and following two steps behind.  Rigel used his peripheral vision to take in their surroundings noting doors, windows, potential exits, potential routes further into the building.  He noted the patrons ranging from those who looked on the edge of being able to afford such a place to those who looked like they were well accustomed to opulence.

A glass of your finest red, and a water for my thrall here.”

Intuiting Piolosses course he remained quiet save for a softy spoken "Thank you sir." when the water was ordered for him.

It didn't take long before Pioloss was approached by a tall somewhat disheveled character who stank of misdirection.


Irihi liked
ReplyQuote
Pioloss
(@pioloss)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 324
 

“Well I suppose it would be as well this went into someone, as opposed to simply going to waste.” Pioloss sniffed, looking down the end of his nose at the newcomer. 

The man, Belkin, was a Dhampir. Though from the look of him not for much longer. There was a wildness to the man, but also an odd vacant look to his eyes, as though something very important were missing. 

Pioloss held out the glass, careful not to hold on to it too tightly lest he seem reluctant to let go of such “swill” as the other snatched it eagerly from his grasp. “At any rate, yew are welcome to it so long as yew can direct me towards something… shall we say, fresher? Though I should warn yew: My tastes do lean somewhat in favour of the more exotic these days.”

As Pioloss turned to follow Belkin, he made sure to brush past Rigel. It was a fleeting contact, a second at most. But during that second Pioloss made sure to think as forcefully as he could in the direction of his friend: Be wary of this one! I don’t think we should trust him for a second! Oh, and also: Sorry about calling yew my Thrall!!! Chances are that Rigel wouldn’t even receive the message, but with them surrounded by such sensitive ears it was all he could think to do. The way Belkin had kept slyly glancing towards Rigel had not been lost on Pioloss. Nor was the barely controlled hunger in the man’s gaze when he did so.  

 


Irihi and Rigel liked
ReplyQuote
Rigel
(@rigel)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 298
 

Pioloss gave up his "drink" to the disheveled man and suddenly turned away as it appeared he would be led to "something better".  The very idea of all of this disgusted Rigel but he trusted Pioloss so he made no indication of his feelings one way or the other.  

As Pioloss turned and brushed past him, Rigel felt a strange niggling and the word "beware" and some feeling of regret passed through his mind as an unexpected light breeze.  Rigel would turn to follow only after Bellkin had moved past as well.


Irihi liked
ReplyQuote
NoOne
(@noone)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 677
 

Belkin

The Dhampir

 

Belkin snatched the glass of red from Pioloss’ hands without a second’s hesitation, and barely managed to gulp down the delicious blood without spilling it on himself.  A fine tremble ran throughout his body as the “swill” slid down his gullet, and in no time Belkin found himself staring despondently at the bottom of the empty glass, not one single drop having been wasted.  The Dhampir stood peering at the now-clear bottom of the crystal tumbler for a moment, his craven features etched by a desperate hopefulness, like the glass might magically refill itself with more red if only he willed it hard enough.  Alas, the vessel remained woefully empty and the single glass hadn’t so much as taken the edge off of the Dhampir’s thirst, as it did stoke it.

Nevertheless, Belkin reluctantly set the tumbler onto the polished bar top and gestured towards a red-carpeted staircase nearby that wound up towards the second floor.  “If yer tastes do run towards the more exotic, I heard there’s gonna be a big Donor Auction today,” he said in as much of a conversational tone as he could muster, though his voice still held echoes of a hunger not nearly sated.  The Dhampir led Pioloss and his juice-pack, Rigel, slowly up the winding staircase.  “I heard some of the Blues talkin’ about it yesterday,” he continued, pausing on the landing halfway up.  ‘Blues’ generally referred to pureblooded, Alpha vampires -- vampires that were born, not turned -- but in this case, could also indicate the Alpha vamp enforcers of the Monstrum Vernandi  that the patrons nicknamed, ‘The Blue Bloods’. 

Belkin turned towards Pioloss, though couldn’t help but slide a glance at Rigel from the corner of his eye.  “Apparently they’ve got a real special one, some Donor that’s got some pretty deep pockets all excited and in a tizzy.”  He leaned in closer to the other dhampir, his voice dropping conspiratorially.  “It’s a good thing yew brought yer juice pack with yew, brother,” he said, his gaze sliding to Rigel, and lingering on the Uman’s neck long enough to be uncomfortable.  He licked his lips unconsciously and returned his attention to Pioloss with some effort.  “By the way, it’s free to visit the Bidding Lounge, but yew gotta pay a fee to stay once the auction starts.  And with the importance of the upcoming auction, they’ve upped the entrance price to include a blood fee, unless yew’ve made arrangements with the MV beforehand.”  He paused, swallowing like he could taste the blood in his throat.  “Yew don’t gotta worry about anyone live feeding off of yer thrall, though -- they only want donated pints.”  A faint grin skittered across the Dhampir’s face.  “Besides, they only allow live feeding on the third level and in the private lounges.

Belkin shifted restlessly, then turned away abruptly and continued up the stairs towards the Bidding Lounge without bothering to wait for his fellow dhampir’s response. 

 

[OOC: to the second level, the Bidding Lounge]


Lassroyale and Irihi liked
ReplyQuote
Rigel
(@rigel)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 298
 

OOC: To the second level The Bidding Lounge


ReplyQuote
Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 903
 

Miiya

From: Hotel De Glace

Well, one thing was for sure; this was the creepiest creephole in creeptown. Ask around this place? Uh, no, thanks. Miiya was in a mood. It was not a good mood, it was not a great mood, it was probably not a healthy mood, but at least it wasn’t a weepy little timorous shu mood. It was a mood that fit this place. 

It was an “I’m gonna start some shu if anybody fretts with me” mood. That was very new for Miiya. It might have something to do with the bitter drink she’d downed in upper Anthos, then another in lower Anthos, then one more--this one sweetened up a bit lot--in Sharnn Nalos. Cahron had given her some kaffee once when they needed to do a long flight after an even longer day. It tasted bad. This shu tasted worse, but it was the cheapest thing on the menu at a place that served kaffee. Ex-something.  

Apparently the accompanying lip-curl of utter teenage disdain and the fiery glint in the diminutive Aeros’ eye wasn’t discouraging any of the bloodsuckers present. As Miiya made straight for the barkeeper--ostensibly the least creepish person present--a few of the patrons curled into her feathery wake.

Yfrett it. Miiya didn’t feel like beating around the bush. “I’m looking for my boyfriend.” She announced loudly to the barkeeper. “He’s got pointy teeth, pointy ears, and a big thick… tail.” She detailed. “Seen anybody around here like that?”

“Nobody like that here.” The disinterested barkeep replied. This girl wasn’t a donor or a drinker. The sooner she left, the better, as far as he was concerned. 

The same attitude was not held by the vampire that sidled up next to the girl. “Your friend sounds exotic--like you. Exotics make good money upstairs--maybe he’s there.” The vampire risked just a hint of compulsion as he snaked an arm around the small Aero’s shoulders. “Want me to show you?” 

Miiya’s wing had been a faintly-glowing dull red, the internal glow barely distinguishable from reflected lamplight. Now it flashed to pitch black as Miiya turned toward the vampire, crossed her arms, and broke his contact. “Don’t kvecking touch me, creep!!”

The vampire was undeterred. More blood drinkers were congregating, but he was first to the gel pack, and he did not intend to give up that advantage. Aeros blood was thick and rich with hemoglobin. Drinking this girl would be like doing jello-shots. The vampire, feeling emboldened by the gathering of his fellows felt confident enough to increase his compulsion on the girl. “Come now, little one, I can help you find everything you seek. Just put your hand in mine, and we will away together.” He murmured, stepping in close to allow his aura to influence her. 

“DA KVECK YEW SAYTA ME?!” Miiya had a wild hair, and was having none of it. She put both hands on the vampire and shoved, pushing herself back as much as him. Too light. Well, there was a way to fix that. The bottom floor of the Du Sang suddenly became very crowded as twenty feet of Aeros wings snapped out, the razored prosthesis narrowly missing dismembering a patron, slicing cleanly through his glass. A degree difference of turn and it would have been his wrists. “I’ll put my FIST in yer FACE!” Miiya wasn’t just going to punch this kalmason, she was going to punch him through the wall!

HEY!” The bartender growled, having had to leap to the rescue of several top-shelf bottles that had been dislodged by the girl’s left wing. “Cut that shu out!”

 

This post was modified 4 months ago by Irihi

ReplyQuote
Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 862
Journey starter  
Asmodiel v2

ASMODIEL

An Apathetic Celestial

╺ ✽ ╸

(Go Fish: 0/6 – Halarian Rat Screw: 0/3 – Gin Rummy: 0/5)

“She cheats.”  – Asmodiel

 

Galvina was off making a deal with some pathetic, down-on-their luck (weren’t they always?) feeder, leaving Asmodiel to entertain himself for a bit as the Crossroads Demoness made another banal deal for another feeder’s banal request.  He didn’t mind.  Time was arbitrary to a being as vast as a Celestial, who counted days in terms of hours, and hours in terms of minutes and seconds.  

Of course, nothing could be done for the angel’s apathy and boredom, but that was really neither here nor there.  

Asmodiel poured himself another scotch and absently shuffled a gold-trimmed deck of cards as he idly glanced around the Du Sang common area, his piercing green eyes skimming over feeders and donors, alike.  He cut the deck and began to lay out cards for a quick game of Solitaire, when he felt a twinge in his shoulders, like a nebulous itch that couldn’t hope to be scratched.  The angel frowned to himself, then sighed and stood from his seat in one fluid movement.  He took a moment to stretch, a singular sort of grace impressed every long line of his lithe figure.  

He felt the twinge in his shoulders again.

Without any grand ostentation, Asmodiel conjured his magnificent golden-brown wings.  He gave a small sigh of satisfaction as he stretched out their imposing expanse, the light catching and reflecting off a myriad of copper, gold, and brown hued feathers.   The Celestial rolled his shoulders, and a corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly when the feeders closest to him drew back, eyeing him in apprehension.  He slid his impassive gaze over a dhampir sitting at a nearby table, causing the vile creature to blanch.  What little color remained in their already pale face drained away, and the dhampir scrambled to a different seat that was several tables away.

Asmodiel turned away and didn’t spare the creature, even a fraction of thought as he folded his wings and prepared to sit back in his seat, when something impeded upon his awareness.  It was nothing really, just the tiniest sliver of intuition that flitted at the edge of his perception, something so fleeting that he might have otherwise ignored it…

…except for the feeling it engendered within him.   For the first time in centuries, maybe even a millenia, Asmodiel felt the Call.  It was something that was difficult to define, like an innate sense that he felt pulsing from somewhere deep within his true nature.  It was a feeling that called back to his days as a sword for The One, and it told him that he was is a Power—he is made to fight, to defend, to protect.

Asmodiel’s attention was drawn to a commotion at La Barre du Sang (the Blood Bar), where his electric gaze fell upon the sight of a young Aeros girl with an prodigiously crafted biomechanical wing, her expression angry and agitated as she squared off with a growing crowd of feeders.  Asmodiel’s senses feathered over the girl’s aura, and he was mildly surprised by the tome of stress, worry, anger, insecurity, and sadness, that spanned across it.  And while her malaise cast a shadow that threatened to dim her inner light, he saw past her insecurities to the iron mettle at the core of who she was—a fact to which the girl seemed woefully ignorant.  He saw the brightness of her spirit that shone, undaunted and true, from beneath the clouds of all that weighed heavily upon her.

How had she even gotten in?  

The Celestial’s lips thinned out in censure, not of the Aeros girl, but the Du Sang enforcers who would allow the child entry into a viper’s pit such as this.  Even as the thought crossed his mind, the tense situation at the bar escalated further as the girl attempted to shoved back the vampire who continued to try and compel her, raising her voice and snapping open the impressive span of her wings.  (Granted, they did not reach the same expanse that Asmodiel’s wings did, but he is both larger than her and, perhaps more importantly, he is not an Aeros.)  When the bartender began to shout, Asmodiel found he’d moved before he’d even thought about it, as he felt the stirrings of righteous anger coil in his chest, the likes of which he hasn’t felt in centuries. 

 

╺ ✽ ╸

A sizable number of feeders  crowded around both bar and Aeros, many of them sporting greedy, fang-toothed grins as they formed a semicircle behind and around the vampire who the feisty winged girl had pushed, effectively cutting off her avenues of escape.  The feeders circled her like sharks, with something distinctly predatory in their body language that verily screamed their intent as they crept closer.

And suddenly, every single feeder  halted in their tracks as the atmosphere abruptly changed. 

The atmosphere seemed to compress and grow smaller somehow, as if something imperceptible yet immense had gradually begun to press into the empty spaces of the Du Sang lounge.  The air within the lounge changed as it became charged, and the pressure grew heavy with the almost electric frisson of a gathering storm.  The atmosphere slowly grew fraught with a growing sense of power, potential, and promise—though what that promise engendered in those who felt it was different for everyone.  

To most of the gathered feeders, that promise gave rise to a creeping sense of inevitability; a feeling of dread that slowly tightened around them like a clenched fist.  To Vexacion Jinx, the vampire who had initially tried to coerce the Aeros, that promise gave way to a paralyzing sense of cosmic horror, like the futility an ant might feel if it was suddenly able to comprehend its own, inescapable doom as it found itself caught in the shadow of a descending foot.

The crowd of feeders who, only moments before, had appeared like a frenzy of sharks closing in on a seal leaking blood into the water, now seemed more like frightened minnows who found themselves trapped in a tank with a great white.  A noticeable change overspread the vampires and dhampirs that were clustered around the bar: ashen skin grew even paler, and any vestiges of the skin’s once-living color drained away; eyes grew round and wide, pupils dilating in fear; and elongating fangs retracted, abruptly vanishing behind the seam of tightly pressed lips.  Eyes that had been laser focused on the small Aeros now looked anywhere else, as if gazing upon the girl for even a fraction of a second would cause their eyes to melt from their sockets. 

A small, almost imperceptible shudder rippled through the group of feeders a split second before they dispersed.  Each vampire and dhampir quickly but cautiously backed away from the winged girl while still facing her, backing up several steps before abruptly turning and fleeing.  In a matter of seconds the crowd had broken up and considerably thinned as feeders fled disappeared into the bowels of Du Sang, scattering like cockroaches escaping the unexpected glow of an overhead light. 

Well, almost all of the feeders were allowed to leave had left, at least.  Vexacion Jinx was the lone vampire left standing before the Aeros girl he’d sought to coerce and feed upon, leaving him feeling exposed, vulnerable, and utterly horrified.  He was paralyzed, his feet cemented to the spot by the depth of his pants-shitting terror.  And there was nothing he could do about it. 

Unlike his fellow feeders who’d found themselves unable to even look in the girl’s direction, Vexacion could not bring himself to look away.  White rings could be glimpsed around his blue irises as he stared at the Aeros girl with eyes wide open; he didn’t even dare to blink.  

Except Vexacion wasn’t staring at the girlHe was staring at the person—at the horrorthat had appeared and was now standing directly behind her.  

Asmodiel stood silently behind Miiya, his neon green eyes smoldering in vivid, breathtaking contrast against his deep coloring as he settled the full bore of his penetrating stare upon the miserable vampire who’d sought to prey on the girl in both the metaphorical and literal sense.  Behind him, the Celestial's magnificent, copper-gold wings were spread partially open as they arched and mantled in an unequivocal warning.   Asmodiel’s frown deepened, no more than the faint, barely-there tightening of his lips, that one, infestismal motion clearly and precisely conveying the magnitude of his censure for the vampire.

Vexacion instantly blanched and looked like they just might soil themselves. 

The Celestial’s presence was vast and inscrutable; he had a chilling sense that the raw power humming through Asmodiel's aura was only a mere fraction of its true potential.  And that apparently proved to just be too much for the petrified vampire, because something within Vexacion Jinx just kind of…broke.  Apropos of nothing (sort of) the vampire began to blather out a phrenetic rush of (mostly) apologies.  There may have been some begging and praying thrown in there too, as Vexacion grew increasingly more wild-eyed and hysterical.  At one point, it seemed like he might break down and just start sobbing.

When there was a brief lull in the inane babble that'd been spilling from the vampire's mouth, Asmodiel spoke.  His voice was smooth and resonant, and as the sound of his voice washed over her, Miiya would feel an echo of the Celestial's elemental ancientness thrum within her hollow spaces.  There was a sense power, protection, and safety within the notes of Asmodiel's voice, and as these feelings vibrated through the Aeros, it felt like being bundled in a dryer-warmed towel and wrapped in a secure hug, after coming in from a long day out in the cold and snow. 

"Acta non verba, vampyre,Asmodiel stated.  Although the Celestial's electric green eyes narrowed only the slightest amount and the corner of his mouth pulled up into the barest curve, his expression might as well have been an outright, lip-curling sneer, so clearly did the motions telegraph his contempt.  "Actions not words," he clarified.  He kept Vexacion pinned under his gaze, as thoroughly as an entomologist keeps a butterfly's wings pinned and displayed under glass.  "Given the egregiousness of your transgressions against her person, I think suitable compensation would be allowing her a free hit."  Asmodiel paused, letting the vampire take in his words before he added a small caveat.  "Should you find that proposition unsuitable, then I  will deliver the blow, instead.

He leveled a hard look at Vexacion.

"Choose wisely."

If Miiya decided to pivot and turn around at any point during this exchange, she would find herself, quite literally, face-to-sternum with Asmodiel.

TOM-CAT: [KIANA BEACH:First Stab - POUNCE (★1/2) - WATCHER BATTLE (3/★4/5/6/★7)] [GOBLIN SLAYING: (1)-(☆1/2)] – [ICE CAVES: CLIFFHANGER (★1/2) - POWDER KEG (★1/2/3) - HYPOTHERMIA (4/5/6) - BONDED (7/8/9/)] [SUNSTEALER:(1/2/3/4)-(1/2)] –Miiya & Cat-Tom [SPARRING: (1/2/★3)] - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss Overwhelmed by Intimacy Returning to Her Bath Time Bonding Wings, Tails, & Love Cave Storms Climbing the Walls [1st KISS: Chase-(★2/3/4)] Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! Cat-Tom vs. Skaven (Forced) Shift Back 9 Lives A Beast in the Darkness Reuniting w/Teleskela Bored Nihilism Cat vs. Dragon Emotionally Exhausted Bath Catboy, Interrupted All For Her Bellissimo Gato [BATH-HOUSE: Confessions(1/2/3/4)] Catboys Can Purr Bagels, Love Poems & Catnapping Love Poem [FIGHT PIT: CHAMPION SUITE (★1.No, no, no.../2a-2b/3.Prostitution/★4.Tipsu/5/6a-6b/★7a-7b.Holden's/Proposition) - GRAND ARENA (Leona/F#1/★F#4/★Cat-Tom vs.Werewolf: 1/2/3) - LOST (1/★2) - FOUND (3/4a-4b/5/★6.Swansong Kiss) - RESCUE (★1.Teleskela, MF'er/2/3.Reawakened Bond) - ESCAPE (4/5/6/7)]
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Teasing Amarice - [DAYTRIP: LAVISH HAND (1/2/3a-3b/4.Sensing Death] - Kissing Fate(1a-1b) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi - Cormeum MIA (stolen heart) - A Vow & Shadowy Msg
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[CHATTE]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
[ASMODIEL & GALVINA] ★A Celestial & Demoness Play Cards - Asmodiel Smites a Feeder - An Angel & Aeros Walk Into a Bar... - Undaunted Spirit - Benediction
──────────────────
[☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


Irihi liked
ReplyQuote
Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 903
 

Miiya

“Well, jeeze, ya don’t hafta cry about it.” The Aeros girl drew her wings back in tight--it had been reckless to have opened them in the first place--as she looked down in bemusement at Vexacion who seemed to be dissolving into whimpering tears at her threat. What a pushover! Miiya felt her blinding rage fizzle at the pitiful response of the vampire. It had been a long day, maybe continuing her search for Tom wasn’t the best idea in her tired and not-totally-rational state. “Sorry," she muttered to the bartender as he stabilized the bottles she had nearly knocked from the shelf. 

Feeling kinda proud of herself, Miiya turned in disgust from the whimpering vampire--and bumped straight into Asmodial. “Oof! Hey, watch i--” 

Oh.

The last vestiges of her high dudgeon drained away as Miiya backed up enough to get her nose out of the celestial’s sternum. 

So Vexacion hadn’t been reduced to a gibbering wreck by her. Well, kveck

Even so, the Miiya of a moment ago, still in a fighting mood, might have confronted Asmodial with an impertinent “Who the kveck are yew?” But the Aeros girl found herself no longer spoiling for a fight. Something--maybe the voice, maybe those electric blue eyes, maybe just the presence of Asmodial settled her. The celestial was all the parts of a smokey sunset; ochers and umbers in color, but at the same time he seemed to increase the gravity in the room such that all of Miiya felt held down, suppressed but not oppressed. For maybe the first time, she felt a little of what it must be like to have mass like a grounder, all of hers concentrated in her heels. Her wings pressed heavy on her shoulders and her louvering feathers settled as the celestial spoke past her to Vexacion. 

Miiya wasn’t frightened by Asmodial’s presence, but she could see why the vampire would be. In contrast to the simpering wreck behind her, she was at loose-joined ease--until the celestial said something Miiya found pretty amusing. 

A “free hit”? Like between schoolchildren? The Aeros girl felt her joints firm back up, some of the pressure of the celestial’s presence relented as she giggled a little. Where was this weirdo from, Planet sophomore? He had wings, but he didn’t look like--didn’t seem like--an Aeros. Miiya wanted to ask, but she found Vexacion now groveling at her figurative feet, begging her to hit him. 

For one quick instant, a bolt of meanness lanced through the calming blanket of warmth that had enveloped Miiya’s consciousness. The blue ash of her prosthesis, having faded to a translucent indigo flickered with sable jags. You don’t know me, kveckhead! Who says I can’t hit as hard as this guy? 

But Miiya’s mean streak was too transient to squeeze her Storm Dancer’s heart. She could hit pretty hard without dancing, or she could hit not hard at all, because hitting was wrong. Even if the kalmason probably deserved it, as far as Miiya knew, he did not deserve it from her. After all, he’d just been trying to put the moves on her. She actually ought to be honored.

That’s what trash girl thought, at least.

So it wasn’t Vexacion that Miiya hit with a vicious right hook--that came like lightning from a blue sky--it was trash girl, or maybe the little jooker that had hollowed out a space in Miiya for her to take root. 

Miiya might top six stone soaking wet, but it was six stone of muscle bone and sinew that Miiya knew just how to rearrange and align to break noses or liberate teeth, and she used every bit of it to do just that. The force of her punch snapped Vexacion’s head halfway round, and launched his left fang on an escape trajectory from his face. The fang shot over the bar, plinked off one of the bottles aligned in front of the mirrored wall there, and spun back over the bar again on the rebound. Miiya caught it adroitly mid follow-through. 

“Eew! Gross!” She laughed, holding up the bloodied fang for Vexacion to see--I mean, he can see it when--or if--he gets his arse back up off the floor. “Oh my, grandma, what big teeth yew have!” Turning back to Asmodial, Miiya made a rather irreverent introduction.

Hi, I’m Mister Fangerton,” she said in a high-pitched nasal voice, while making the tootherpuppet bob with every word, “and this is my new friend Miiya. Say hello, Miiya.”

“Hello.” Miiya complied with her own request, flashing an irreverent smile.


ReplyQuote
Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 862
Journey starter  
Asmodiel (apathetic celestial)v2 [BLOOD DEN] LPC

ASMODIEL

An Apathetic Celestial

╺ ✽ ╸

(Go Fish: 0/6 – Halarian Rat Screw: 0/3 – Gin Rummy: 0/5)

“She cheats.”  – Asmodiel

 

Asmodiel had carried the weight of his ennui and melancholia with him for some time now, a malaise of spirit that made his soul feel ponderously heavy.  (How long had it been…decades?...centuries? Time seemed like little more than an abstract construct when the path before him stretched into eternity…)  He’s lived with this malaise for so long that he’s become used to its heaviness, and eventually came to accept it as just another aspect of his tedious existence.  The Celestial had gotten so used to feeling little other than remote detachment in most situations, that he’s genuinely taken aback by the flash of wry amusement that pierced the veil of ever-present apathy that enshrouded him.

What’s more surprising, was the bright shine of the girl’s aura that peeked out from behind the cloud bank of her temporarily abated inner turmoil, the vivacity of her spirit winding through his Grace like a warm summer breeze.  Asmodiel felt some of the heaviness at his core ease, its weight lessening just a little; not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.  And to an angel who’s lived with that constant weight burdening his spirit, it was plenty.

It’s enough to pull something rare from the Celestial: a genuine smile.  

As ever, the smile that Miiya’s irreverent fang-puppetry and subsequent introduction pulled from Asmodiel was understated, just a subtle upturn of his lips, and yet the change that overspread him was so distinct that it’s startling.  As he smiled, the light of his Grace shone through his physical form. Even though it's just a weak reflection of its full brilliance, Asmodiel appeared to be lit from within by an undefinable, ethereal radiance that illuminated his face and softened the chiseled lines of his features; his already dazzling green eyes sparkled like the surface of a sun-dappled lake.  It gave a brief hint to the angel’s otherworldliness, allowing a quick glimpse of the seraphic beauty and grace in which he was forged.  

Nothing in his expression indicated Asmodiel was aware of this change as he took in  Miiya’s introduction (first of “Mr. Fangerton'' and then of herself), the faint twist of his lips becoming more pronounced as a corner of his mouth twitched higher, revealing the shallow indent of dimple.  He found himself strangely charmed by the odd dichotomy of almost casual violence juxtaposed with outright, irreverent silliness, within her.  For sure, it's a curious duality; he absently wondered where the scrappy young Aeros learned how to throw such a good punch. 

Asmodiel inclined his head towards Miiya and, he supposed, Mr. Fangerton’, though he directed his response to the more outwardly vocal of the pair. “Salvē, Miiya (Hello, Miiya),” he greeted.  He placed a hand on his chest.  “Nōmen mihi est Asmodiel (My name is Asmodiel).”  

When Miiya held up the bloody fang that she liberated from Vexacion Jinx and asked Asmodiel if the tooth was worth anything, he arched a brow.  “Teeth from a feeder of either notoriety or consequence, can be worth a substantial amount to the right collector,” he answered.  Asmodiel cast a sidelong glance at Vexacion, who’s pathetic attempt at playing possum was an abject failure owing to the fact that the vampire flinched every time Miiya moved, ruining any pretense of unconsciousness.

He returned his gaze to the Aeros.  “Unfortunately, Vexacion Jinx is a feeder of no consequence and zero notoriety—or dignity.”  Despite not touching his lips, his sneer was still obvious, and the utter disdain that was firmly packed in the gaps between his words served as a clear indication of his scorn.

Miiya tucked the fang into a pocket. And before the Celestial could say anything further, she asked, What are you?”   He saw the girl make an intense, unabashed study of his wings, her eyes scanning across their folded angles before dropping to inspect the size and shape of the visible primaries that fell just shy of sweeping the ground.

Miiya’s observation would reveal that, on first glance, Asmodiel’s wings appeared to be not unlike her own.  The shape and the medium-long, mid-breath length and shape of his feathers would seem to indicate that he was built for high speed active flight, possessing exceptional agility and the ability to sprint for long periods at speed, interspersed by decently long periods of passive gliding.  As a warrior angel Asmodiel didn’t need to spend time soaring; he was made with speed and dexterity in order to quickly chase down and aggressively close distance with his enemies, while also dodging and maneuvering while locked into close combat. 

He watched Miiya with an abstract sort of curiosity as he replied. 

What do you believe I am, Parvulus?  he mused.  As he spoke, Asmodiel stretched out with his Grace and allowed its shape to wrap around the girl in greeting, the sensation similar to the ghostly caress of downy feathers on her cheek and shoulder.  At the same time, Asmodiel partially extended both of his wings, keeping them mostly loosely folded against his sides, while lifting and flaring the primaries…

…that revealed he didn't just have one set of leading primary feathers, but multiple sets of leading primary feathers. 

Although feathered, the underlying structure of each wing was distinctly more insectile than avian, and as the angel extended and flared each set of leading primary feathers (there were six sets in all, with three per wing), the seraphine shape of the wings and the atypical arrangement of the primary sets, strongly called to mind dragonfly wings.   Asmodiel briefly flexed his wings before refolding them, revealing that each one was actually made of up two parts that could rotate and move independently of one another; the two parts seamlessly locked together when the wings were folded, giving the appearance that they were normal, avian, and whole.  

Asmodiel didn't offer Miiya any kind of verbal explanation as he turned away from both her and the bar, and instead allowed his Grace to speak directly to her.  Something ancient and Olde and innately known whispered to the girl, the shape of its unspoken words forming in the darkness of that primeval place that still existed, inscrutable and forgotten, deep within all mortals.  A place where the elemental knowledge of generations was scrawled in the thick layers of ancestral bone dust settled in the striations of the subconscious. 

And some part of would just know, as if she'd always known, the truth of what Asmodiel was:

 

 

Celestial.  Angel.  Power.

 

 

Asmodiel started towards the table he shared with Galvina, gesturing for Miiya to follow. 

Come, Parvulus (Little One),” he said.  “Sit with me and I shall answer your questions.”  Asmodiel paused and looked over his shoulder, catching Miiya’s eye with the full force of his penetrating stare.  “And then you can tell me how you came to be here, as well as how you have come to be thusly injured.”  The angel’s vivid green eyes flickered over the girl’s form, taking in her numerous bruises, a few cuts, and the unmistakable black eye. 

The angel cocked his head as he picked up on an infrasonic rumble that emanated from the girl’s stomach, and Miiya might glean something close to humor, glinting in his eyes.  “I will buy you a drink and a late night snack.” 

 

╺ ✽ ╸

 

Asmodiel had clearly understood the appetite of a young Aeros (unsurprising, considering the boundless span of the Celestial’s existence), which was predicated by the second table that had been set up next to theirs, upon which was showcased some of the most exquisite and expensive desserts that can be had in Shaarn.  Each dish was a work of art in itself, every one a visual expression of hedonistic opulence wrapped decadently in gold, as if to give the impression that one was literally eating money.  (In all fairness, the idea of "eating money" wasn't all that absurd given that the average cost of the desserts on display was around 11,000 Krownes, with the most costly one priced at a cool 36,000 Krownes.

 

Spoiler
The ridiculously decadent desserts Asmodiel bought for Miiya...

dessert collage 2 (cakes) price2
dessert collage 4 (artistic) price
dessert collage 5 (icecream) prices2
dessert collage 3 (macaron truffles canoli) prices

 

The decadence didn’t stop at the visual, however; the desserts on offer were not only unequivocally delicious, but also some of the most luxuriously rich that one has had the pleasure of tasting.  With maybe the exception of the sweet and airy crunch of the macarons, Miiya would find that each bite of an individual dessert was rich and heavy; whether it was the sinful creaminess of the ice creams and cannoli, or the dark, silky richness of the many chocolate-based desserts, from truffles to pudding to cake.  

When they’d sat down, Asmodiel hadn’t let Miiya see a menu and had simply ordered the sumptuous desserts without any mention or expectation of payment.  Nor did he give any indication of their extravagant cost.  He’d wanted her to be able to indulge in the delectable treats guilt-free, and he knew that the Aeros girl wouldn't be able to completely appreciate them if she realized how outrageously expensive they were.  

The Celestial didn’t need any preternatural intuition to apprehend the complicated relationship that Miiya had with food and money, or how intrinsically the two were joined in her mind—even if she didn’t see or realize it herself.

Asmodiel didn’t think that Miiya was aware of how openly her relationship to food and money was written in her movements and expressions to those who knew how to read it.  The angel had easily read the narrative in the sharp set of Miiya's shoulders, which told a tale of lean times in the past; a time when her next meal hadn't been guaranteed and starvation had been a constant companion looming over her head like a sword of Damocles.  He too had read it in the gleam of unconscious voracity that’d flashed, unbidden, through her gaze when he’d offered to buy her food and drink.  The expression had been reflexive and automatic, a fleeting echo of unsettled anxiety rooted in the lingering trace of her deeply entrenched sense of food insecurity. 

The food had seemed to buoy Miiya's mood—at least for the moment—and once she’d received the go ahead to help herself, hadn’t hesitated to start in on the array of rich and ornately designed desserts that’d been bought exclusively for her.  It was almost like eating was a self-soothing activity to the Aeros, and she started to genuinely relax the more she ate.  She’d apparently been settled and comfortable with the angel by the time one of the Le Salon Rogue waitresses (a non-thralled Uman; a comely lass with dark blonde ringlets, honey brown eyes, a shoulder-baring top, and a fetching smile) had come to take their drink order.  

Miiya, somewhat irreverently, had ordered one of, Whatever he’s having,” with a gesture to the angel’s partially drunk glass of single malt.  

If the young Aeros had expected him (and maybe hoped he’d try) to dissuade her or perhaps just outright deny her choice, she was going to be sadly disappointed, because Asmodiel did neither.  He only raised a brow, his eyes briefly flicking over her face before he turned his startling bright, neon green gaze to the waitress.  He raised his eyes to the woman’s own and slightly inclined his head in acquiescence.  “As my young friend wishes,” he confirmed.  “We’ll have two glasses of Daelowsian, New Eirland single malt scotch—neat.” The barest hint of some deep amusement was pressed into the faint curve of the angel’s lips.  “Please also bring a separate glass of cold water,” he added.  “Thank you.”  Before the waitress departed, Asmodiel leaned towards hers and spoke to her in a low, hushed tone that the Aeros would not be able to hear.  

While they waited for the waitress to return with their drinks, Miiya filled the space with a barrage of rapid-fire questions as she continued to eat, while also peppering the conversation with her observations and commentary.  The Celestial didn’t seem bothered by either the girl’s irreverence or the quickly fired queries that were lobbed his way.  He responded conversationally and without pretense, putting forth his own questions now and then; he was pleased to find the girl answered (mostly) straightforwardly and without prompting.

Though when he once more asked, "What brought you to this place?Miiya paused eating as several emotions seemed to storm up to the surface, from where they'd apparently been lurking just beneath the choppy waves of her inner turmoil.  

The Celestial read alternating chapters of her impotent anger, galling uncertainty, razor-keen loneliness, and pervading sadness, written in the corners of her eyes, the tightness of her mouth, and in the slight hunch of her narrow shoulders.  But it was the tome filled with the interconnected prose of her growing worry, sharp need, simmering want, and burgeoning love—all bound and held together by the stiff spine of her determination—that filled and over-brimmed her eyes and made them shine, which pulled at something within him. 

He waited patiently, idly draining the last of his scotch as he did, his presence vast, calm, and reassuring.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend,”  Miiya stated after a moment, taking a large bite from a gold-lined bowl of “haute couture'' dark chocolate ice cream that cost 25,000 Krownes. “His name is Tom-Cat…and…” she looked at the dish in front of her, the gold spoon wavering for just a second.  “He’s been missing.  For awhile.  I-I need to find him.”  For a moment, it seemed like she might say more but abruptly shoving a macaron into her mouth, instead, her face lighting up a little as she chewed.  

Asmodiel asked her the usual follow-up questions (What does he look like? Where have you looked?) and to these she gave her replies almost instantly.  She stuttered over his third question, though; What occurred on the day he disappeared—are there any details that stand out to you?  Miiya started to answer in a somewhat of a rush, before stumbling over her words as an unexpected flush of color swept her cheeks. 

Right then, the waitress returned with their drinks and set down a crystal tumbler filled with two fingers of mahogany-red liquid, in front of the Aeros.  An identical glass was placed in front of Asmodiel (his bearing far more scotch) along with two additional cups, filled with ice and ice cold, effervescent water, respectively.   The woman departed and Asmodiel leaned forward and deftly plucked out two ice cubes with the mini tongs resting across the mouth of the cup, then wordlessly dropped them into Miiya's glass.   He returned the tongs and sat back, lifting his glass and raised it to the young Aeros in cheers. 

The vividness of his eyes rivaled the vibrance of an alpine meadow after the first big spring melt, and as Asmodiel caught and held Miiya’s gaze with his own, his striking eyes seemed to strip back the layers of the girl’s soul, until her core was laid bare.  And though his lips moved as he made a toast, later it would be hard to remember whether she’d actually heard the angel speak…or if the words had been written directly upon her soul untl she’d understood their meaning in the shape of her bones. 

Igne natura renovatur integra (Through fire, nature is reborn whole),” said Asmodiel, his words spinning into existence like the formation of galaxies.  “Et spiritus impavidus. (And our spirit is undaunted).”  The texture of his voice had subtly shifted, its resonant echo like a faded memory; distant, yet familiar.  The wet scrape of a quill moving across parchment; The soft whisper of the wind slipping over feathers; A thrumming, soporific vibration that felt drowsy and content…  

Asmodiel leaned forward and touched his glass to Miiya’s with a delicate, ‘clink!’ of crystal on crystal.  He brought the glass to his lips and took a long swallow of his scotch, observing the Aeros over the rim—a note of wry amusement already present in the curve of his lips, anticipating her first sip.

TOM-CAT: [KIANA BEACH:First Stab - POUNCE (★1/2) - WATCHER BATTLE (3/★4/5/6/★7)] [GOBLIN SLAYING: (1)-(☆1/2)] – [ICE CAVES: CLIFFHANGER (★1/2) - POWDER KEG (★1/2/3) - HYPOTHERMIA (4/5/6) - BONDED (7/8/9/)] [SUNSTEALER:(1/2/3/4)-(1/2)] –Miiya & Cat-Tom [SPARRING: (1/2/★3)] - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - ☆Stolen Kiss Overwhelmed by Intimacy Returning to Her Bath Time Bonding Wings, Tails, & Love Cave Storms Climbing the Walls [1st KISS: Chase-(★2/3/4)] Cat-Tom: Rescue Kitty! Cat-Tom vs. Skaven (Forced) Shift Back 9 Lives A Beast in the Darkness Reuniting w/Teleskela Bored Nihilism Cat vs. Dragon Emotionally Exhausted Bath Catboy, Interrupted All For Her Bellissimo Gato [BATH-HOUSE: Confessions(1/2/3/4)] Catboys Can Purr Bagels, Love Poems & Catnapping Love Poem [FIGHT PIT: CHAMPION SUITE (★1.No, no, no.../2a-2b/3.Prostitution/★4.Tipsu/5/6a-6b/★7a-7b.Holden's/Proposition) - GRAND ARENA (Leona/F#1/★F#4/★Cat-Tom vs.Werewolf: 1/2/3) - LOST (1/★2) - FOUND (3/4a-4b/5/★6.Swansong Kiss) - RESCUE (★1.Teleskela, MF'er/2/3.Reawakened Bond) - ESCAPE (4/5/6/7)]
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Teasing Amarice - [DAYTRIP: LAVISH HAND (1/2/3a-3b/4.Sensing Death] - Kissing Fate(1a-1b) - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Soul Searching - Into the Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Heart of the Maze - Before the Storm - Thunder & Honey - ★Ripped Gowns - ★Sensual Poetry - Warding Sigils - Hedonistic Filth & House-Sized Party Crasher - Confronting Maarazaar(1/2/3) - Ash Bunny Irihi - Cormeum MIA (stolen heart) - A Vow & Shadowy Msg
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[CHATTE]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
[ASMODIEL & GALVINA] ★A Celestial & Demoness Play Cards - Asmodiel Smites a Feeder - An Angel & Aeros Walk Into a Bar... - Undaunted Spirit - Benediction
──────────────────
[☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


Irihi and Duilliath liked
ReplyQuote
Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 2 years ago
Posts: 903
 

Miiya

Whoo… swimming with the big fishes now--at least, that’s how Miiya felt about the um… creature? “Being” is probably a better word--that was literally wining and dining her. The Aeros girl was still in a mood--a fighting mood--and anyone else, or at least anyone more normal, would have raised her hackles with an attitude like Asmodial’s. Over-caffinated Miiya did not like being patronized. Over-tired Miiya did not like familiarity from strangers. It felt like a trap, or at least like a salesman at the market who was trying to make her feel obligated to do or buy something.

Or maybe like a gnomish

Asmodial, however, was not a bazaar hawker. He was not a sleezy long-toothed weirdo. He was pretty, really pretty. He was also confident, at ease, and possessing of presence without being imposing. That presence of his made allowed Miiya an innate sense of not just safety, but peaceful wellbeing around him. So she relaxed from the tautness of long hard day capped by three shots of espresso.

But not too much, because even really pretty powerful guys can be up to no good and might need to get socked in the nose.

Woa, those are weird.” Miiya said, with unabashed rudeness, as Asmodial displayed his triple-wing. Then she actually remembered she had manners and stammered an inadequate recover-pology. “Um--I mean, unique. A-and beautiful.”

Oh, are we doing riddles now? Miiya wondered to herself as the celestial asked her what she thought he was. She shrugged heavily, still feeling a lot of the weight of his presence. On one hand it was calming, but on the other, it was also exhausting to the already-exhausted girl. She was feeling pretty discomfited. Even the glory of the celestial seemed only able to calm the surface--but not the undercurrent--of Miiya’s roiling mood swings, which were getting extra-swingy. Maybe I shouldn’t have punched that guy. Ma would certainly be aghast. Then again, there was not much from today she wouldn’t be upset at. 

“Alright.” Miiya said shortly as the celestial suggested they sit and talk. She assumed he meant her wing when he mentioned her injuries. Miiya couldn’t see her bruises and abrasions, and those aches and pains had faded into the background throughout the day, so she misinterpreted the comment. Miiya didn’t want to talk about her wing, but she needed to talk about Tom-Cat. Be cool. He’s cool. You be cool too.

Miiya was about as good as affecting airs as she was at swimming, and she was far out of her depth in this pool, even if the sharks had been chased away. Rather than urbane, her attempt at seeming debonair drove her more into genuine moroseness.  

The mention of food buoyed her spirits somewhat, it’s arrival much moreso. Miiya still was not sure what this place was, but she guessed it couldn’t be all bad if they made? Stocked? Such amazingly decadent deserts as these. Bought, she assumed. Wherever these fantastic confections had been made, it was surely not in the kitchen of La Banqe Du Sang. 

The celestial was making it clear that the food came with no strings attached, but that did not mean Miiya believed it. Still, the desserts really were irresistible, so she selected one that looked both middle-of-the-pack and totally incredible and ate slowly. Really really slowly for Miiya. Even though her usual method of partaking was to ingest food as though it were air, the Aeros girl took the time--this time--to savor the confection. Eating slowly allowed plenty of space for conversation, and Miiya warmed right to it, her mood taking another swing toward fantastic! with the jolt of glucose hitting her system.

Irreverant to suspicious to morose to chatty and right back to kinda suspicious again as Miiya’s chestnut-brown gaze met Asmodial’s somewhat questioningly in juxtaposition to his intensity, and she responded with “cheers”... She liked what he said and how he said it, but she didn't trust herself to like what she ought.

...and a sip and a cough. Pfwah! There went any hint of suave. Miiya liked hard cider and snuck some on the rare times she and Cahron performed at fetes with such highfalutin refreshments available. She had discovered she could tolerate, but didn’t really care for beers, ales, and wines. This shu, though. Who would drink something that tasted pretty much like pure poison?! The single-malt was warming and smooth, balanced and gentle on the way down. Not that Miiya could tell. She wondered if you had to be a feathery dragonfly man, with throat and stomach of iron, in order to not be dissolved from the inside out, drinking this kveck. 

“Spicy.” She managed not to sputter, the cough having distributed the distilled spirits into crevices around her gums, which now felt just shy of bursting into flames. 


ReplyQuote
Page 1 / 2
Share: