Post by HighVoltage on Aug 4, 2023 23:46:39 GMT
He had not emerged from the tower that evening. Lucien had not stalked the halls, had not sought answers from the quartermaster, had not gone to ensure his fledgeling was safe. He had not slept, not that he would most evenings. No, Lucien Kilta had spent the entirety of the night systematically destroying the contents of the room in a white-hot fury. Workbenches were reduced to splinters, beakers and glassware ground into dust, metallic bits twisted and rent into little more than scrap. The small wounds on his hands healed over easily, whatever debris caught inside left to tear through his skin once more.
The light never dulled, and Lucien cared not to track the hours. It was only when the quartermaster’s caterwauling drifted upward, his dull facsimile of her rousing cry, that Lucien became aware of the passage of time, of presumed evening slipping into dawn. His hands were covered in angry red lines, wounds that had slowed healing merely for the detritus that had clung to them. They would mend quickly enough. He could not change that.
The room was shattered, no piece left larger than a toothpick, save for one vial that had managed to escape the wrath of the Captain’s attack dog. It contained a thin, oily liquid that shimmered in the light, the only reason it had been spared. A label was attached, presumably the effects of the concoction, but it was written in a language unfamiliar to Lucien. With a tightness in his chest that he refused to acknowledge and a snarl on his lips, Lucien tucked the vial away for later study, choosing to finally exit the atrium and slink down through the manor to join the rest of the crew.
Or apparently not, as they had all gathered their things and moved back into the cavern they had left. Lucien took his time slinking through the empty halls, his steps silent as he moved into the cobbled streets, voices carrying from further down. A familiar one brought a sneer to his face, and another returned it back to a snarl.
Why was he still around?
Lucien shifted his movement, a wraith to the trained human ear. While another vampire may have heard his approach, King’s seemed to be preoccupied dealing with the quartermaster’s pup. Lucien saw the assembled soon enough, the pup standing defiantly against Naveen, the blood-soaked new recruit slipping through the portal. Lucien stepped from the shadows, hand resting gently on his rapier, a disinterested gaze locked onto Naveen.
“It appears there are some bodies too damaged for even Solomon King to want.” Lucien flashed his fangs in a joyless smile. “Why hide behind a mask? King mentioned how much you valued your beauty, I had hoped you would grace us with its full appearance.”
The light never dulled, and Lucien cared not to track the hours. It was only when the quartermaster’s caterwauling drifted upward, his dull facsimile of her rousing cry, that Lucien became aware of the passage of time, of presumed evening slipping into dawn. His hands were covered in angry red lines, wounds that had slowed healing merely for the detritus that had clung to them. They would mend quickly enough. He could not change that.
The room was shattered, no piece left larger than a toothpick, save for one vial that had managed to escape the wrath of the Captain’s attack dog. It contained a thin, oily liquid that shimmered in the light, the only reason it had been spared. A label was attached, presumably the effects of the concoction, but it was written in a language unfamiliar to Lucien. With a tightness in his chest that he refused to acknowledge and a snarl on his lips, Lucien tucked the vial away for later study, choosing to finally exit the atrium and slink down through the manor to join the rest of the crew.
Or apparently not, as they had all gathered their things and moved back into the cavern they had left. Lucien took his time slinking through the empty halls, his steps silent as he moved into the cobbled streets, voices carrying from further down. A familiar one brought a sneer to his face, and another returned it back to a snarl.
Why was he still around?
Lucien shifted his movement, a wraith to the trained human ear. While another vampire may have heard his approach, King’s seemed to be preoccupied dealing with the quartermaster’s pup. Lucien saw the assembled soon enough, the pup standing defiantly against Naveen, the blood-soaked new recruit slipping through the portal. Lucien stepped from the shadows, hand resting gently on his rapier, a disinterested gaze locked onto Naveen.
“It appears there are some bodies too damaged for even Solomon King to want.” Lucien flashed his fangs in a joyless smile. “Why hide behind a mask? King mentioned how much you valued your beauty, I had hoped you would grace us with its full appearance.”
