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Post by Draven Hunter on May 18, 2011 3:59:22 GMT -5
So uh... Yeah, throw anyone in. o.o Ashemir is hinted at, as are Valmar and Seriah.
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The battle was won. The days had been passing quickly. Draven now wandered the halls of the Castle like before, this time enjoying the chance to look at everything rather than having to run around while idiot human guards chased him. He looked a lot better than he had before the battle. Wounds healed, eyes bright, body strong, he was ready for anything again. The bronze-eyed vampire walked slowly, his boots causing sound to echo in the silent, empty hallway he'd been walking in for maybe an hour. He wasn't wearing his typical garb, weaponry abandoned in the room he'd chosen to stay in, dark clothes thrown aside for something brighter. Now he was wearing a rich brown pair of trousers that was a bit loose and a tunic that was a bright blue, as blue as the sky even. His boots were his usual, well-worn black ones (he'd never abandon them). Hair actually brushed down so that it wasn't a spiked mess, he looked halfways presentable and decent. For a change, he was enjoying looking civilized rather than dangerous.
Draven continued on quietly, hands clasped behind his back. He looked almost regal. His pale skin stood out against the stone of the castle hallway, making him almost glow. He stopped, turning to look at one of the paintings still on the wall. Royalty, most likely. He tilted his head slightly to one side and stared at the image. Was that supposed to be the prince? It looked rather a lot like Lorin. He made a face, brows furrowing in thought. Whatever had happened to Lorin during all this fighting and war? The prince hadn't seemed like one for battle, nor like one that would survive a fight. No, Lorin seemed more like someone that would be the first of the royals to be killed. He raised a brow now, straightening his neck and shrugging. Oh well. Maybe Ashemir knew what had happened to the prince. Or Seriah even. He didn't much feel like dealing with Valmar. The Roman giant not only pissed him off, but gave him the impression he didn't want anyone's help. And Draven knew, just knew, Valmar was plotting something... The Roman just, all in all, pissed him off.
He snorted and turned away, closing his bronze eyes. He supposed he could look for Ashemir. He hadn't seen him since the morning before the battle, and he was retrieved by another vampire he didn't know to come to the castle. So he was clueless as to where the blonde had gotten off too. With a soft sigh, he started to walk again, filling the empty hallway with the echoes of his steps once more.
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on May 18, 2011 23:39:12 GMT -5
Ashemir was making his way down the hall, trying to become familiar with the castle layout. Unfortunately, this meant getting lost more than once, a fact that he would never admit to anyone else. But sometimes you had to get lost a couple of times before you knew something like the back of your hand, like the mountain labyrinth. Granted, the mountain exuded more life and spirit than this dead place.
Wait, was that Draven? Ashemir almost didn't notice him under the combed hair and fresh, vibrant clothes. Would talking to Draven be awkward after what he said in Malcom's tavern? Well, it would give him something else do do besides get lost...
"Well, someone looks groomed..." he commented as the approached the bronze-eyed vampire, his gaze flicking to the portrait of the prince. He wondered if Seriah would do anything about that.
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Post by Draven Hunter on May 19, 2011 8:50:57 GMT -5
Draven's gaze shot toward the voice he recognized, though no smile appeared like it usually did. He still felt stupid after the end of the conversation in the inn with Ashemir. He stopped his forward movements to allow Ashemir to approach him. While he didn't look his typical dangerous, he still looked a bit threatening. The look he gave the blonde didn't seem very friendly, though it wasn't meant to be angry at Ashemir but at himself. He was expressing his inward anger at himself with a single, dark look.
"Yes," Draven said, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. "I enjoy looking clean and bright sometimes. It would seem the battle went well then, huh? Are the royals dead?"
Again, he chastised himself inwardly for being stupid. It had to be a given that the royals of the castle were dead and gone now. That's why the vampires had taken home in the castle. His nose twitched and he turned his bronze gaze away from Ashemir to close his eyes and sigh.
"By the way," he started, voice softer now. "I am sorry for everything I said to you in the tavern... It was stupid and rude of me to treat you as such and compare you to my brother in such a boarish manner... I apologize profusely for everything I said."
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on May 20, 2011 4:35:13 GMT -5
At first Ashemir's shoulders drew inward, and his head turned a bit downward when Draven was displaying a dark expression. Maybe it would be better to just walk past... The blonde was about to, before the bronze-eyed vampire started speaking, and his voice still seemed to reflect the Draven's more mild nature, and Ashemir turned his head to look more evenly at the other. "Not all. Lorin got away somehow. Valmar wasn't able to catch him outside either...." the blonde remarked thoughtfully. There was only one entrance to the city, so how could he have escaped...?
The apology took him offguard, and he was silent for several moments. "I don't know," he said, seemingly in general.
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Post by Draven Hunter on May 20, 2011 19:44:48 GMT -5
"You don't have to accept my apology. I was just letting you know my honest feelings about how I spoke to you before."
Draven's gaze had lowered to the ground, eyes half open and a frown slightly appearing at the corners of his mouth.
"I wish you could have seen me when I was younger," he said, quietly. "I never would have spoke to you like that. Or anyone, for that matter. But the years and decades have begun to wear me down to the point I'm beginning not to care. So I seem so... So... Stupid and split when I talk to you. Because my mind is fighting between being who I truly am and being the uncaring asshole I've started to become."
He lifted his bronze gaze to Ashemir, watching the blonde.
"Just, consider accepting my sorry," he muttered, starting to walk as if he were going to leave the other to think to himself. "If you need me or want to talk or anything, you can always find me. I'm constantly wandering the halls of this castle, now that I can freely."
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Post by Alerick Brenthor on May 20, 2011 20:48:12 GMT -5
They were all disgusting. All of them. Filthy leeches.
About the same as the old inhabitants of the castle actually.
His steps were well measured as he moved down the castle halls, his hands behind his back. He hadn't taken part in the battle himself; he wouldn't dare get his hands dirty, nor did the outcome of the battle particularly matter to him. After all, he would come out on top no matter who the victor was. However, he could not help but be concerned about the one thing he had noticed while he "casually" walked by the dead. Lysand wasn't among them. That meant that he was still around somewhere to be a danger to them. Especially since he heard rumors that Prince Lorin had escaped... Was he with Lysand? Perhaps...
His train of thought was broken by the sound of voices up ahead and his steps paused as he glanced up, lips down turning into a very slight frown as he recognized the blond vampire. The other looked slightly familiar too... But he didn't have a seething hatred for the second one as of yet, so it was harder to remember.
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on May 21, 2011 16:45:01 GMT -5
"It's not that I don't know about the apology. I don't really care about what you say about your brother; I know what I am, but I don't know what I want anymore, and I'm not sure what other people want from me now." His lip twitched upward slightly, "Besides, I'm not sure why you're calling yourself the uncaring asshole here."
He then noticed Brenthor approaching. Well, that was a fine double-meaning... Ashemir might have explained that he meant himself, but he wasn't about to express anything personal with that fat lard around. "Brenthor, you should have announced your presence. I thought a whale had flopped ashore." It was too easy, but too good not to say.
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Post by Draven Hunter on May 22, 2011 14:57:38 GMT -5
Draven turned to listen to Ashemir, noticing Brenthor as well. He didn't know much about the fat man, but the way his friend responded to the other's presense, Draven took it Brenthor was not someone many liked. He chuckled at Ashemir's comment about a whale on shore and didn't even try to hide the fact as he stepped to stand beside Ashemir and face the lord.
"So, why is it I recognize you but know only your name?" he asked, glancing at Ashemir. "Was he at the tavern the night before the battle? With Valmar, if the small, blurred memory is correct."
His bronze eyes flashed, his wicked smirk appearing, the look he had often given Ashemir when he felt like poking fun. Don't poke the bear, you know? He chuckled again at the thought, his dark humor currently about to be directed at Brenthor.
"If you were with Valmar, you must be his latest bitch, then, huh?"
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Post by Alerick Brenthor on May 22, 2011 17:22:10 GMT -5
Brenthor halted in front of them, a single eyebrow raising at Ashemir's comment. After a moment, he gave the other a small mock bow as he spoke, "Forgive me for my behavior at the tavern. For a few moments, I had thought you to be an opponent of some intelligence. Apparently I'm mistaken." The faintest of smirks appeared on his lips before it vanished, attention turning to Draven.
"So then, being someone's acquaintance makes them their bitch? So then tell me..." His eyes sparked for a moment. "How does it feel to be a bitch to a bitch?" He eyes flickered to Ashemir meaningfully so that Draven wouldn't miss his implication.
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on May 22, 2011 17:53:44 GMT -5
Ashemir wrinkled his nose. It was easy to call someone stupid; he did it to Draven all the time. The least the ambassador could do was try to find a way to get under his skin. "As though being an opponent matters; you seem to treat me the same either way. I don't care what you think, but it's your own folly." When the fat man turned to speak his piece to Draven, he narrowed his eyes. "You know, if Draven attacks you, I'm not going to help you." He paused, his expression becoming more neutral again. "You think you owe Valmar nothing then?"
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Post by Draven Hunter on May 22, 2011 22:14:08 GMT -5
"I am Ashemir's equal. I find him to be a friend and an ally. What do you have? Nothing but the fat on your bones and a title that means nothing any more. If you don't watch your tongue, Brenthor, I might just have to help you lose some weight. And since you wouldn't be any loss to the vampire race, I doubt anyone would care to stand up for your asinine, corpulent self. You can insult me all you want; I'll just shrug it off and add that to my list of stupid things you've said. But if you insult Ashemir again, I will remove every vital organ from your body, slit your throat, and watch you squirm until I set you on fire. Any questions?"
Clearly, Draven didn't like how Brenthor spoke to him. The fat man was a fledgling, a new vampire, especially compared to Draven. And being spoken to in such a manner by such a worthless and selfish being, he wasn't about to stand any shit. He didn't look at Ashemir through all his words, but he did step forward a pace, just to ensure that Brentorh understood how serious he was. If the bastard wanted to hold a war of words, Draven was certain he could out-smart the fat imbecile. While he held the title 'Lord', Brenthor wasn't very intelligent.
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Post by Alerick Brenthor on May 23, 2011 13:42:44 GMT -5
Brenthor allowed a single eyebrow to raise, looking entirely unimpressed by Draven's tirade. "Only the weak swear violence of the smallest of aspersions." He did not step back as the other vampire took a step forward, the faintest of smirks on his face; nothing entirely noticeable- simply a small uptwitch of the lips. "Any questions? Yes, in fact. Do you really think so little of your ally to think that he needs you to protect him from mere words? Is he really not strong enough to face me himself that he needs an overzealous guard dog to snap at my shoes?"
His chin raised ever so slightly as he regarded Ashemir. "I do not say that I owe nothing to Valmar. As it so happens, we happen to be in an alliance together." His gaze darkened. "So I would advise that you not take me so lightly."
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Post by Ashemir Draemis on May 23, 2011 15:13:52 GMT -5
"Draven, calm down. He's just a huge sack of hot air," Ashemir said to the bronze-eyed vampire. He didn't like Brenthor either, but it wasn't as though they could kill him for being annoying. Plus, if he did have something more worked out with Valmar, harming Brenthor could set Ashemir back a few steps more.
"You'd have to forgive me for my assumptions," the blonde said to Brenthor, adding the next with a sting to his tone. "It's easy to stride down these halls and feign importance."
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Post by Draven Hunter on May 23, 2011 21:38:46 GMT -5
Draven was about to respond to Valmar with violence when Ashemir told him to calm down. He fought the urge to bare fangs and lunge at the fat moron. Valmar didn't scare him; if he wanted, he could probably take on the huge Roman and kill him easily. He was far less intelligent than his twin was anyways. He frowned greatly, brows furrowed together in anger and irritation as he backed away to stand just behind Ashemir and to the side. If he had run into Brenthor alone, the large lord wouldn't have lasted two seconds. While he thought he was smart, it didn't mean his words meant anything to Draven. And the bronze-eyed vampire would have shredded him right then and there for his idiotic ranting. He leaned closer to Ashemir and whispered something so quietly that only the blonde could hear what was said.
"I would like to leave this obese idiot," he murmured barely audibly. "Would you like to continue our conversation elsewhere later? You tell me where and when and I'll meet you. But this Brenthor is really pissing me off to the point I'm barely holding back..."
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Post by Alerick Brenthor on May 24, 2011 14:04:05 GMT -5
Brenthor wondered if they though they were being clever whenever they made puns about his size. Please, he had been hearing those since he was ten. His chin rose as Ashemir addressed him again, eyes narrowing slightly. Yet the smirk grew slightly, becoming patronizing. "Well, as long as you realize that you're doing such, I'm sure that you can catch it and stop yourself," he remarked, knowing full well that Ashemir meant the insult for him, but deciding to turn it around.
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