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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 20:55:04 GMT -5
1. If you don't have a reason to be in Seriah's house, you probably don't have a reason to be in his basement. =D
2. Fred was a sad muffin.
Setting: Seriah's basement
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The warlord made heavy steps descending the into the basement, followed by the sound of something heavy being dragged behind him. As he hit the bottom step, which let out an annoyingly unnecessary ominous creak, it was clear the thing being dragged was a generally unused chair from his kitchen.
Not yet looking towards his guest, he set the chair up short of the center of the room. If any of this seemed somehow dramatic, and the music he could imagine playing on his lute as he set up certainly was, it was falsely so, and he simply sat down in the chair, and crossed his legs. Between Ashemir and Draven his attention had been more on his vampires than the less willing house guest, and he was happy to have a moment to feel her out.
Leaning back in the chair, he focused the intensity of his blue gaze on Yeszlin, and asked in a reasonable if not kind tone, "How's your head?"
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 21:17:16 GMT -5
Yeszlin was curled up in a corner, leaning her shoulder against the wall, her back toward Seriah. Her hair was pulled over her shoulder, her blue-green eyes staring at the wall. She had her knees bent up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. The corner had become the only place she would sit, the only place she would look. Even as Seriah made noise, pulling the chair down to sit in, she didn't look or flinch or move. When he asked how her head was, she slowly lifted a hand and touched the back of her head where she had a large, bruised bump. Again, even touching it, she didn't flinch at the pain that shot through her head. What was the point? She might as well stay numb. She lowered her hand and wrapped her arm back around her knee with the other.
"Fine," she muttered, quietly, voice cracked from lack of use.
If Seriah looked closely, he might notice that she was sitting on her trousers and her boots had been thrown across the room to the door, where they lay haphazardly on either side. The only thing she wore now was her baggy white shirt and it was tucked around her, but not over her knees. Her jacket had been thrown elsewhere, but she, in her thoughts, couldn't remember where she'd put it. In truth, it was near the place where Seriah sat, splayed out on the floor.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 21:28:34 GMT -5
Seriah looked over Yeszlin's hunched form, noting she'd tossed away most of her clothing. He supposed for a wereanimal it made a certain kind of sense, though if it were him, he'd want to keep every scrap of clothing around him, if only for some illusion of a barrier between him and his captor. The temperature meant little to him, and he wondered vaguely if she was cold... "I'm not down here to cause you any farther harm. I just want to talk." With any luck his own talking would loosen her tongue some, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before he continued, "It's really a strange sort of funny. Normally this house is nothing but me and my ghosts. Suddenly I have more house guests than I know what to do with. You probably heard the commotion upstairs before, but a.. another friend came in injured. And he, naturally, brought with him trouble." Not that he blamed Draven for that, as much as Marrus was an unwanted extra weight on his mind. If anything he was happy Ashemir and Draven would come to him in anyway when they were in danger.
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 21:41:10 GMT -5
Yeszlin tilted her head slightly, turning it so she could hear Seriah but not allowing her eyes to move away from the wall. She listened to his words, vaguely registering they were actually words. Numb... She blinked slowly, blue-green gaze dulled. She hugged her legs closer to her, turning her head more and now watching Seriah from the corner of one half-open eye. He was talking to her. Wasn't it rude to ignore someone...? Suddenly, nothing seemed to make sense in her mind. She didn't move now, watching Seriah with that blank stare from the corner of her eye. Then, her cracked voice emerged again.
"What happened...?" she asked, softly.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 21:52:53 GMT -5
"Well," He started, pleased his audience was becoming more attentive. "Apparently someone has a completely insane brother, with no concept of subtly.. or reality, I would imagine. He deposited said friend onto my doorstep, half dead, and quickly falling. I think he'll make it, but it's disconcerting to see a powerful alley reduced to that. By family, no less." He shook his head, still concerned about Marrus running rampant in his town. "Do you have any family Yeszlin?"
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 22:00:27 GMT -5
Yeszlin looked away at the question of her family. The only family she had living was her packmates, and they weren't really anything but that: packmates. Nothing could replace that empty feeling that was left when her parents had passed away and she was left to fend for herself before she'd been fully trained as an adult. But what could this man want that information for? Of course, it was rude not to answer...
"No," she answered, voice barely more than a whisper, though in the silence of this basement room, it could have been a regular voice. "I have no family."
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 22:10:27 GMT -5
"I'm sorry to hear that." Seriah replied, again, pleased to see she was becoming more responsive. If there were a medieval equivalent a a lobotomy, he might have thought someone snuck into the basement and gave her one. "Vampires... we usually loose our family once we're turned, for one reason or another. I had a little sister once, though. Since I left to indulge my own interests, she should have been able to inherit my father's business. I'm proud of her, even knowing she's long gone now."
He tilted his head at the broken looking woman, not sure what to think of her. "When we found you, you were on your way to the capital, weren't you? Where you delivering any particular piece of information?"
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 22:24:02 GMT -5
Yeszlin's eyes flashed and she turned to look at Seriah completely. Something snapped at the question of her delivering information and her former spark returned.
"None of your business, leech," she growled, turning her back to the corner and leaning into it.
Knees still to chest, she shifted so that her arms rested on top of them. Alright, she was listening now. And nothing was going to come out of her mouth that Seriah didn't need to know. Which, she reminded herself, was everything. He was attempting to get pack information and he didn't need it. She watched him with much clearer eyes, though they didn't show her anger or any sign of fear in them. There was an emotionless indifference set into her expression now.
"Found, by the way, is not the word for how you came across me," she added, the corners of her mouth twitching down slightly at the corners.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 22:32:53 GMT -5
He sighed, leaning back in the chair. He'd thought it might be to soon for the question. But it was nice to be reminded he wasn't talking to an empty shell. "That's alright," He said, his tone becoming a mildly bored drawl, "It probably wasn't anything useful, anyway." The corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile, "'Found' is not an inaccurate description, it simply doesn't include that after we found you we kidnapped you. What word would you prefer? 'Absconded' perhaps?"
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 22:40:29 GMT -5
"Don't push your luck, vampire, that I won't get up and come at you," Yeszlin snapped, getting to her feet slowly.
The movement of standing made her head spin; it seemed the injury from Ashemir's rock was still not improved enough that she could stand without getting dizzy. But she wasn't about to stand there and let Seriah goad her on like some pet being teased. She wanted him to see that she could still fight, even after his tall blonde friend had worn her out and choked her. Yeszlin wasn't about to let him see that she was feeling the effects of her injury and of lack of sleep and hunger and thirst... She would do as she'd been trained to do in such a situation and hide all of her weaknesses behind a hard outer shell, one that would take much more time than she hoped the vampires were willing to put into her. Otherwise, she would be useless to the Werewolves. She allowed her frown to show, her bright eyes narrowed as she watched Seriah.
"What do you want me for?" she asked.
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 22:49:44 GMT -5
Seriah shrugged at her threat to come after him. He was short of her reach as long as she was in those chains. He had been very very precise. To her benefit, he had no intention of starving or dehydrating her, other than it was hard to remember to deliver such nutrients regularly after hundreds of years not spent thinking about 3 square meals a day. When she asked what he wanted, his smile took on a darker bent. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows vampires are evil, heartless monsters. We have neither hearts, nor souls. We're just the big bad boogey men. I'm just interested in causing you pain and discomfort. What else is a vampire capable of wanting?" As much as it'd be pleasant to monologue the young lady to death, if only as a means of hearing his plans allowed without the pressure of impressing (and he took every effort to make sure know one saw him feeling that pressure) and uniting other vampires to his cause, he wasn't going to feed her such dangerous information. As impossible as he made escape, he could not predict the future, and he wouldn't risk it.
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 23:00:13 GMT -5
Something was strange that he didn't feel the need to move and she crossed her arms, reminded again of the chains that kept her from not only escaping but from shifting. There was probably a certain length she had and he was just out of it. Yeszlin eyed Seriah with a curious glint in her gaze, but she didn't say anything for a long time. He was listing off the typical assumptions of vampires, but there was more there she knew of, more the Werewolves knew of the blood-sucking monsters they called vampires.
"I would have guessed there was more of a motif behind your actions than the typical stereotypes of vampires," she retorted. "Rather than naming yourself for what you really are, I thought you might have tried to make your race look better. My mistake. You're just as everyone else says."
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 23:05:45 GMT -5
"It would be a waste of my breath, and a grating to your ears. Isn't calling myself the stereotype easier for both of us? It requires no empathy, no stretch of morality or imagination." He chuckled darkly, "Maybe it's revenge, and you're just the poor soul that tripped the trap, and meets the base requirements." He crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly mimicking her, "Why do you think you're here? There's always more than one true answer."
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Post by Yeszlin Ravella on Jan 6, 2011 23:14:51 GMT -5
"I don't even want to think of the possible reasons you could be keeping me here against my will," Yeszlin said, shaking her head slightly.
She lifted an arm and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, the curly strands bouncing across her back before settling still. She was honest in saying she didn't really want to imagine the reasons a vampire would have kidnapped her while she was away from her pack, chained her in his basement with silver, and was now prodding her for answers, albeit unimportant ones. Her frown deepened as she watched him, blue-green eyes locked on cold blue ones.
"...What do you want from me?"
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Post by Seriah Desislov on Jan 6, 2011 23:25:56 GMT -5
Seriah raised a brow as she settled on repeating her earlier question. "I always wanted a pet dog, but my dad wouldn't let me keep one. Something about fleas. When I saw you, I simply didn't want to let the opportunity go to waste." He replied coolly, as he left his chair, crossing to the farther side of the basement. With his back to her, and the poor light, Yeszlin was unlikely to see what he was doing, but he quickly returned with a bottle of wine. It was one of few forgotten by the previous owner of the house. "You're throat sounds dry, I'll bring you down water later, but this should help in the mean time." He set the bottle a few paces closer than the halfway mark of the room, not forcing her to travel as far to get it, before backing up to his chair.
(XD I so wish I could make a golden retriever joke, but I would imagine the breed doesn't exist yet. )
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