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Brilliant! Would you like to start in the same setting? eg; Selene and Percy are in the same tavern, looking for the same person. It can be someone with info on Lucien, as he will be a massive atagonist for Percy and his pack. |
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You wanna start or want me to? |
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The smells and sounds of the tavern wafted through to where Percy and his brothers stood outside. They had tracked and followed their target for days, and now stood in the shadows, watching as he walked into the doors and disappeared into endless noise and scents.
With a slow sigh Percy walked towards the swinging doors, drawing his hood up over his head. "Very well, we know what we must do. Keep your cover, should things become too lively we must simply slip in and out." Without so much as a look between them, the three brothers sauntered into the bustling tavern, the flurries of barmaids and drunk men flew past them. No one paid them any mind, they were shadows in the night. Invisible to the red faced men, drooling beer and vomit onto the women they held captive. "There, in the corner," Kane whispered, although it wouldn't have mattered much anyways. Voices lifted and lilted through the very walls themselves, so much so that Percy only heard Kane on account of his keen hearing. In the dim corner, at a table fit for two, sat the vampire scout they had been tracking. With him was a woman Percy had not seen in this territory before, she sat well within the shadows, her features concealed by the dark. Pulling a chair, he sat himself a few tables across from them, and ordered himself a tankard from the busty barmaid. She was pretty enough, her flushed cheeks and blonde hair were enough to catch a mans eye, and from the way she hitched her skirt, she knew how to catch the ones she wanted. Her and Kane made small talk, a formality he knew that would simply set Kane up to bed her for the evening. With a shrug he focused himself on the vampires conversation, using his hearing to drown out the din and amplify only the scout. |
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Selene Vespera: "The Midnight Rose" The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the streets of New Orleans, painting the French Quarter in a delicate wash of silver. It was a night like any other in this city, where the line between the living and the dead was often blurred, and the whispers of the supernatural floated like fog in the humid air. Selene Vespera stepped into the quiet, cobblestone alley that led to her manor, her silhouette an elegant shadow in the night. Her raven-black hair, styled in an intricate updo with a few loose tendrils framing her porcelain face, caught the light as she moved. The faintest scent of roses seemed to follow her, a signature fragrance that lingered wherever she went—though whether it was real or merely a trick of the senses was a matter few dared question. Her violet eyes, deep as the abyss and almost black in the dim light, scanned the street with a practiced air of disinterest. Her gaze was a weapon, always calculating, always searching for weaknesses in those around her. She had seen it all in her centuries of existence: the ebb and flow of human ambition, the fleeting nature of power, the unspoken desperation of souls yearning for immortality. Her eyes narrowed as a figure approached from the shadows—a young man, unremarkable in every way, yet she sensed a twinge of something in him. Fear? Desire? Both, perhaps. “You seek something,” she said in her slow, deliberate tone, her voice lilting with a quiet authority that had been honed over lifetimes. She tilted her head slightly, as if she were a raven inspecting a potential meal. He faltered, caught off guard, his gaze dropping to the ground beneath her unwavering stare. “I—I need help,” he stammered. “Everyone needs help,” Selene murmured, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But not all help is given freely. What is it you truly seek, boy? Power, knowledge, or… redemption?” The man hesitated, his heart racing in his chest. Selene could almost taste the pulse of his anxiety, the sweet, nervous blood that thrummed beneath his skin. She stepped closer, the hem of her dark lace gown whispering against the stone. “I… I heard you were an expert in… *things*,” he began, voice shaking. “Occult things. I’ve been told you know how to… make someone like me live forever.” A sharp, knowing glint flickered in Selene’s eyes. *Immortality,* the most coveted of desires. It was the very thing that had led her down this cursed path, and she knew far too well the folly of chasing it. “You want to be like me,” she said, her voice smooth, almost pitying. “To live forever. But what would you give for it? Your soul? Your humanity? You may think you desire immortality, but what you truly crave is something far darker.” His breath caught in his throat. “I don’t care about that! I just want to live—*forever.*” Selene’s gaze hardened. She took a step back, regarding him with a cold amusement. *Foolish,* she thought. So many like him, willing to risk everything for a taste of eternity, and yet, they never understood the price. “Eternal life,” she began, her voice like silk, “comes at a cost you may not be prepared to pay. The blood is the currency, and once spilled, it is hard to reclaim. Be careful what you wish for, boy.” Her hand moved to the bloodstone pendant at her neck, and for a moment, a flicker of something old, something painful, passed across her face. The scar along her collarbone, barely visible beneath her black lace, throbbed at the memory. Lucian. The betrayal. The centuries of waiting, of hunting him in vain. The man before her quivered, uncertain, but Selene’s voice cut through his hesitation like a blade. “I can help you,” she said, her words slow and deliberate. “But first, you must prove your worth. Seek the knowledge you crave, and I will decide if you are worthy of what you ask.” She turned then, her figure a ghostly apparition as she made her way back to the manor. The young man stood frozen for a moment, but Selene knew that her words had already begun to sink into him, to take root. *What is it you truly desire, child?* She would find out soon enough. All she had to do was wait. --- Inside her manor, the flickering of candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, dancing across shelves filled with ancient tomes, relics, and forgotten artifacts. Selene’s sanctuary, a reflection of her life, was a delicate balance between the old world and the new. Antique furniture sat alongside occult relics, each piece a fragment of her past. A life built from centuries of intrigue, betrayal, and power. She removed her coat, draping it carefully across a chair, and moved to the center of the room. The air in the room was thick with magic—dark, ancient, and full of potential. Her fingers brushed over an old, leather-bound grimoire, its pages yellowed with age. She didn’t need to open it; the knowledge within was ingrained in her very being. Tonight, however, would not be about old rituals or spells. Tonight, something else stirred within her—a deep yearning to uncover the truth behind her immortality, to finally unlock the secrets that had been hidden for centuries. The blood magic she wielded, once a gift, had become a cage, and the artifact she sought could be the key to setting her free—or destroying her. Her thoughts turned again to Lucian, her sire. The one who had turned her, betrayed her, and left her with nothing but an eternal curse. *One day, I will find him,* she promised herself. *And when I do, I will make him pay.* But for now, there was something else to focus on. Something more immediate. Someone who would either become a pawn—or a threat. With a soft sigh, Selene set the grimoire aside and reached for her crystal vial of bloodwine. The dark red liquid swirled inside, as deep and rich as the power she had mastered. She drank slowly, savoring the warmth as it slid down her throat, and for a brief moment, the world outside her manor seemed far away. |
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Hours had passed as Percy sat rooted in place, the deafening drum of noise had only grown louder as the evening wore on.
The scout and woman had said not one word to each other, and with the tension so palpable, he felt as if he sat there with them. The silence between them hung in the air, dangerous, like a blade neither one was willing to yield to. The woman, still cloaked in shadows, had not moved once.
He did not mind the wait, he had become adept at passing the time quietly, infact he enjoyed it. His brothers however, had no patience for it. Their own tension ran rank through the table, thrumming and humming its way through his peace. If he had dropped a pin, it would have jolted them right out their seats. Indifferent, he blocked them out of his senses. They would risk everything if they lost this lead, he wouldn't allow it. They would have to find their own calm, if they could not, he would order them away.
The tavern had grown very drunk, while Percy had not yet sipped his ale. The tankard was simply decorative, a ruse to keep the amorous barmaids away, and to avoid the ceaseless need for conversation. The smell of wine and ale rose like smoke through the raucous and bustle, while men and women bobbed in and out of the crowd. Senses heightened, Percy had become aware of a very drunk and disorderly individual. The sloshed drunkard made his way through tables and chairs, his intentions very hostile and his eyes set on Kane.
A flick of the wrist, and Percy churned the mans inner thoughts, leaving him with only the desire to go home. Magicks and spells, although not forbidden, were heavily frowned upon within the pack. Percy had studied and practiced in the late evenings, when the pack had been soundly unaware. His only teacher, the troves and troves of books he had found on his many missions. He was by no means a powerful sorcerer, but with the halfwits drunken state, he was able to manipulate thought well enough. With the angry drunk out of the way, he turned his attentions fully to the scout. It seemed as though he would be seated, waiting, for an eternity. Then, with the slightest of nods, he sent Orion outside. His brother stood, and moving with the grace of a snake, slipped out the doors. He had felt it, the thin drum, the scouts heartbeat. It had hitched, if by a milisecond, but he had felt it. Kane readied himself next to him, Percy felt the air go taut, suffocating. On a whisper as soft as an owls wings, thin as the air itself, barely indiscernible, she spoke, 'New Orleans, before dusk on the morrow.' He felt the shivers glide over his body, he had it. He had a lead, a place, he had what he needed. Relief and dread swirled within him, oil and water. He would have a decision to make, one he knew would upset the entirety of the pack. With a cold realisation, he recognised the womans voice. Svetla, one of Lucians closest advisors.
She's never been so close to our borders before. He watched as she stood, silent, moving as invisible as an apparation she slid out the doors. Within moments the young scout followed suit, his gait less smooth, as he brushed and pushed his way past the rowdy crowd. New Orleans huh? It could be worse. |
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Selene Vespera: "The Midnight Rose" The bloodwine settled heavily in Selene’s stomach, its warmth spreading through her like liquid fire, but the slight buzz it left behind did little to quell the ever-present ache that lingered in the shadows of her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to be engulfed by the familiar, suffocating pull of her immortality. It was both a gift and a curse—one that had long since grown tired, its edges frayed by centuries of bitterness and betrayal. Lucian’s name echoed in the back of her mind once more. *One day*. She had promised herself that she would have her reckoning with him. But the waiting, the endless hunt, had taken its toll. She could feel it—her patience running thinner with each passing year. She would find him. She would. But not tonight. Selene’s thoughts shifted, her mind sharpening as she heard the faintest scrape of boots on stone outside her manor. The young man from the alley—*so eager, so desperate*. He had not yet returned, but she could feel the anticipation in his every step, his every breath. There was something fragile in his desire, something that had not fully hardened into the ruthless hunger that made immortals of her kind. It was still a flicker of human yearning, one she could mold. With deliberate slowness, she moved to the window, her footsteps silent on the dark wood of the floor. She looked out over the cobblestone streets, the French Quarter bathed in moonlight. The city was alive, but not in the way most people thought. Selene had lived through its rise and fall, seen empires crumble, and watched mortals come and go like the tides. The undercurrents, the ones unseen and felt only by those who *truly* knew, were what kept her anchored here. The young man was nearing. She could sense him. His heart thudded with a mix of resolve and desperation, but the fear hadn’t fully settled yet. It would. It always did. Selene’s fingers brushed the pendant at her neck again, her thoughts returning to the matter at hand. She wasn’t simply seeking to play with this boy, or any of the others like him. This was a test. He would have to prove his worth—not to her, not in the way he thought. But to *the blood*. The ancient magic coursing through her veins. He would either rise to it or fall, and she would be there to watch. It was in his desperation that he would either break or transcend. She had seen it before. The front door creaked open, the sound so familiar it almost felt like an echo of her past. The figure in the doorway was bathed in moonlight, and for a moment, he seemed almost ethereal—like a shadow among shadows. Selene didn’t turn, didn’t even flinch, but her eyes followed the young man’s hesitant steps as he crossed the threshold. His eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his unspoken fears. He had come, just as she knew he would. He had no choice, not really. Desperation made fools of men. The faint scent of roses, which never seemed to leave her, hung in the air around him now—*a subtle gift of her presence*. It would linger like a haunting perfume long after he was gone. “I knew you would come,” she said, her voice cool, but not unkind. She did not need to look at him to know he was there. “But you are not yet worthy, child. Not yet.” The young man stepped forward, his eyes flicking nervously around the room, but he said nothing. Selene finally turned to face him, her violet eyes locking with his. He seemed almost a boy in the glow of the candlelight, his youth and vulnerability laid bare beneath the weight of her gaze. “I thought you wanted to live forever,” she said softly, her voice curling around him like smoke. “But immortality isn’t something you *ask for*. It’s something you *take*. And to take it, you must first give up something of yourself—something real. What are you willing to lose to have eternity? And do not speak of your soul. That is too easy an answer. *What else*?” His throat tightened, but he didn’t speak. Selene waited. She was patient. “I don’t care what I lose,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I just want to live forever. I’ll do whatever it takes.” She tilted her head, intrigued by the desperation that pulsed in his voice. It was raw, unrefined. He hadn’t even begun to comprehend what he was asking for. “You think you can *afford* that which you seek?” Her voice dropped lower, darker. “There is no price too high, no cost too steep for those who seek immortality. But once it is given, it cannot be taken back. You will not be the same. And you may find that the very thing you crave will consume you, until there is nothing left but a hollow shell. So, *choose*. Choose wisely.” The air in the room grew heavier, as though the very shadows themselves were pressing in, waiting for him to make his move. “I—I don’t care!” he stammered, his voice rising. “Just—just make me immortal. Please.” Selene studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire ready to snap. Then, her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “Very well,” she murmured. “Then prove it.” Her hands moved like liquid, quick and smooth, weaving through the air with a skill borne of centuries of practice. A pulse of dark magic rippled through the room, the air thick with power. The bloodstone pendant at her neck thrummed, glowing faintly as the spell took shape. She could feel his heart speeding up, his fear mingling with something else—something darker. *It had begun.* “I will grant you the gift of immortality,” Selene said softly, her eyes gleaming with the promise of both torment and wonder. “But first, you must endure a trial. You will face your own fear, and from that fear, you will either rise, or you will die.” The man recoiled slightly, confusion and terror fighting for dominance in his gaze. But Selene was already turning away, her presence a cool shadow in the room. “Prove yourself,” she whispered. “And then, perhaps, you will understand what it truly means to be immortal.” |
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With the sun peeking through his windows, Percy awoke. The room lit by the warm glow, he tossed his blanket aside and moved to the sink. He had made his decision last night, he would be leaving to follow the scout to New Orleans.
The reality of it all began to settle within him, a crushing feeling to be leaving behind his people, when they had so recently lost their leader. They will understand, they have to. He was my father. The day was still early, no one stirred within the house yet. Moving quietly, he walked downstairs and set the kettle to boil. The grief and loss weighed heavily on him, and in the quiet he allowed himself a minute to process it. The man who had been his everything, his leader, his teacher, his father, was gone. His chest and throat closed, an overwhelming pain and sorrow welled up within him, and his hands began to tremble. Footsteps. He looked down at the floor, composing himself and pushing the emotions deep down. There would be time to grieve, but it was not now. His pack stood without an Alpha, without a leader. They would expect it of him, it is his duty, his birthright, to take the reins. The responsibility that came with that was a heavy weight, he noted, one that could consume you if you allowed it. 'You're also awake early,' Kane spoke with a gruff in his voice, still half asleep. Taking two cups out of the cupboard, Percy hummed a short response, he braced himself for the day and what was to come with it. The brothers stood together in silence, the birds outside slowly began their singing, as the sun now left the horizon. Orion made his way to them, and fetched himself a glass of water. Without words they sat together on the porch, basking in the golden warm sunlight. "I take it you know what I am going to say," Percy turned to face his brothers, his eyes steady and his voice calm. A nod and a hum, an understanding passed between them. "Call a gathering, I must tell the pack. They have a right to know." |
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Selene Vespera: "The Midnight Rose" The young man’s breath caught in his throat, but he made no move to protest. The silence stretched between them like an ominous thread, and for the first time, he seemed to grasp the gravity of what he had asked for. The air hummed with an eerie energy, thick with ancient power and unspoken consequences. He had come seeking eternity, but he had not considered the price. *None of them ever did.* Selene turned slowly, her violet eyes gleaming with the weight of centuries. Her gaze was sharp, measuring, as though the boy were little more than a puzzle to solve. “You will face what haunts you,” she said, her voice quiet but laden with certainty. “Your fear, your deepest desire, and your regret—whatever it is that lurks in the darkest corners of your soul. It will come for you, and it will demand an answer.” The young man opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His body trembled ever so slightly as if the realization of what was about to unfold was only just beginning to take hold. Selene raised a hand, a whisper of magic flowing from her fingers as the shadows in the room seemed to shift, coiling and stretching with an eerie life of their own. The air thickened, growing colder. A low hum filled the space as if something unseen was stirring—waiting. The scent of roses clung to the edges of his senses, an almost mocking reminder of her presence. “You will face the truth of what you seek,” she continued, her tone shifting, becoming more distant, more detached. “But remember this—what I offer is not a gift, it is a test. And many, far too many, fail. Some fade into dust. Others become something... worse. *Something worse than death.*” He swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. He had come here with bravado, sure in his youthful conviction that immortality was the answer to everything he lacked. But now, in the face of her cold certainty, his confidence began to fray at the edges. “Tell me,” she asked, stepping closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “What is it that you fear most? Is it death? Or is it the thought of never being remembered, of fading into obscurity? Or perhaps it is something darker—something you have hidden away, locked in the recesses of your mind. *Tell me.* What is your greatest fear?” His eyes flickered to the floor, his lips trembling as he tried to steady his breath. He was on the edge now—he could feel it. He had stepped too far into something he didn’t understand, and it was already consuming him. “I... I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “I... I just... I want to be someone. To matter.” Selene’s lips twisted in a faint, knowing smile. She stepped back, her silhouette merging with the shadows as if she were a part of them. “*Everyone* wants to matter,” she murmured softly. “But what will you sacrifice to ensure that you do? For immortality comes at a price. *Always.*” Her voice echoed in the stillness, and suddenly the room shifted. The shadows lengthened, twisting into jagged shapes that seemed to breathe. The floor beneath him seemed to dissolve into mist, and a cold wind stirred the room, carrying with it the scent of decay. The young man stumbled back, his heart racing, the air thick with something primal. His skin crawled as the room seemed to close in around him. And then—there it was. A figure, emerging from the darkness. Tall, twisted, and grotesque. Its face was obscured, but the weight of its presence was undeniable. It was everything he feared—a reflection of his own torment, of the hollow yearning that had brought him to this moment. It whispered to him in a voice like a thousand mournful voices, a chorus of regret and unfulfilled dreams. “You came seeking eternity,” the figure said, its voice like sandpaper on bone. “But eternity is not free. What will you sacrifice to claim it?” The young man staggered backward, his knees weak, his mind racing. *No… this can’t be real…* But it was. It was as real as the breath in his chest, as the frantic beating of his heart. “I’ll do anything!” he gasped, his voice trembling. “Please! Just... just give me what I came for. Make me immortal!” The figure laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. It stepped closer, and the room seemed to shrink further. “Anything?” it asked, the word dripping with mockery. “Then prove it. Choose.” A dagger appeared in its hand, its blade glinting in the dim light. “*What will you give up to take eternity?*” The young man’s eyes went wide with terror as he stared at the gleaming blade. Sweat slicked his skin, and his breath quickened. He had not imagined this moment would be like this—not like this. A whisper of a thought lingered in his mind—a fleeting image of what it might cost. *His life? His humanity?* But he didn’t understand yet. He didn’t see how deep the price would go. “I don’t care,” he repeated, almost mechanically now. “I’ll give anything. Everything. Just—just make me immortal.” The figure reached forward, pressing the cold steel of the dagger into his palm. His fingers clenched around it without thinking. The sensation of the blade was strangely familiar, almost like an old wound reopening. Selene’s voice drifted through the darkness, cool and serene, like the calm before a storm. “You think you can give anything? *Prove it.*” The room spun, the air crackling with charged energy as the young man’s world tilted on its axis. The figure before him began to blur, becoming a shapeless mass of shadow and smoke. But its words remained. Clear. Unyielding. “*Give it all.*” |
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(sorry for the delay, HEE is glitchy and wont let me post) The round hall was erupt with voices and clamoured questions, even as everyone remained seated, Percy felt as though he was being swarmed by the crowd.
"Why would you leave us now?!" One voice boomed out above the others, Percy knew the voice belonged to his mothers closest friend, Sigrid. The slender woman was healer to the pack, and a Doctor to the human town nearby.
Her voice held much weight in the Gatherings, and she was as well respected as his mother had been. A scortching silence followed her question, her words hung in the air as if they had come from every voice in the hall. Her eyes bore holes into Percy, and his resolve tightened as he stood to answer. "This is something I must do, I had hoped you all would have heard me speak. Elric Lother Minos, our Alpha, our friend, teacher and father, died at the hands of a vampire who goes by the name of Lucian," His eyes moved from through the crowd as he spoke, making a point to hold eye contact as he moved. Many of the pack came in wolf form, they sat themselves wherever comfortable, but not one person dare interrupt him. They looked to him now, as they had looked to his father before him. "For over two hundred years he lead us, and would have continued for many more had he not been killed by a dark, forbidden and desolate magick. The vampire who killed him does not abide by any laws, he does not care for the rules of magick, nor for the Packs territory treaty. Elric did not die an honorable death," He had to pause, to compose himself. "I cannot let it stand, Elric would not have allowed it to pass if I had died in his stead. And you would have followed him then, you would have trusted his judgement." A long eerie silence followed him, eyes glowed and pierced. He knew what he was asking, and yet he stood in shoes two sizes to big. "Do you speak to us as our friend, or as our Alpha?" Sigrid spoke, her voice clear and distinct. However Percy felt the weight of the question he had known would come, he stood prepared. The night his father had died, the question was born into exsistence.
It was the only question the rest of the hall held value to, it was the only one that mattered right now. "As a friend, Sigrid, a friend. I understand this will affect the choice the pack may make, when I return I will plead my case and respect the packs decision." A quiet air of agreement circled the room, and with a soft nod, the clamour returned. Percy excused himself outside for fresh air, he longed for the quiet he had before. Shedding his clothing he shifted, bones snapping, muscles ripping, and bolted into the woods. He wanted to run, he wanted to feel his lungs burn. If he was going to feel pain, he wanted it to be one of his choice. |
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Light Rain then Clearing Overnight
