Dangerous Liasons
Apr. 30th, 2007 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aegrus_letalisx-posted to Tenebrae Nostro
The wind whipped around her viciously as if it wished to hurt her; its efforts were in vain. She stood on the balcony overlooking the gardens with dark blooms breaking off their frail stems. Gone, with the sweep of the Great Mother's hand. And yet, Amelia stood defiant and as the winds tunneled around her, lightly mussing her hair which was swept up in an elegant hair arrangement. Her eyes remained fixed on some distance point but she saw nothing. Resting her fingertips on the marble veranda, she remained motionless and could be mistaken for one of the marble statues gracing the garden.
The Elder was preoccupied. It seems that she was destined to be flanked by men. Dangerous men, who through their charm, power or desires to help her kind were attractive, but whose egos or emphasis on self-importance was great reason for caution. Upon careful examination, Amelia found that her coven's strain of vampirism was truly superior to the rest. That was a source of pride - as much as one could say that one can be proud of a virus -and yet, again, caution lest Drake or the Merovingian make a power play to try to dominate them. As far as she knew, her kind was some of the oldest and strongest true vampires there were. The others were the remnants of mortals ravaged by a disease that they could not control. If she was to die in this war she would do so, but not before taking Deacon Frost's pathetic minions down with her and making sure that a strong anointed Elder took her place.
She walked back inside, shutting the cathedral-styled windows behind her and made her way through the sitting room only to stop at a chessboard lying on a mahogany table.
Moving the king forward with a slender fingertip, she stared at the squares.
On one hand there was Drake, sort of like Viktor: promising victory with the ability to deliver, egotistical in his own right, strong and stubborn with the desire to protect the bloodlines. Yet callous with desire to expand whatever he meant by the ‘vampire nation’, with conquest, with the belief that superiority made one ethically exempt from certain moral principles.
Moving the other king from the other side, she slid him forward.
On the other hand, there was the Merovingian, slightly reminiscent of Marcus: The one with great power, even though others might not immediately understand its breadth and what it can do for you, enterprising, refined elegance masking sharp edges, a silent commanding presence and an understanding into the intricacies of the world. Yet, so suave that through his honeyed words she was still unsure of what to make of the incredible snake charmer who commanded some Lycan and vampires.
Drake had offered her power: reign over the vampires under a banner of one nation and getting rid of Deacon Frost. Truth was, she'd settle for the death of Frost, and wanted the eradication of those weaker vampire bloodlines whose inability to curb their bloodlust threatened their own little masquerade. She'd settle for the destruction of the Lycans so that for the first time in more than a thousand years, her house could know what peace was, if only for a moment. Amelia surely strained to remember what it was composed of.
With the Merovingian it was not what he could offer but what you could ask for....
The question with both of these men was: what were you willing to pay? Amelia was not nearly naive enough to believe that there were no strings attached. Powerful men don't give anything away for free, except their wrath.
Pushing the pawn forward with a fingertip she thought of her next move in this new war.
Then there was Michael. Devastated, brooding Michael. Prone to quick emotion that quickly faded into self-pity. Just like Lucian. But just like Lucian she had to take care that his bitterness did not overwhelm him and cause him to strike against them at a time that they didn’t need another front opening up on them. How to best mobilize him? How to make him forget about what he could no longer have and make him see that an alliance with the vampires was to his benefit? He could never be pure, such was his true curse, but he could bring the Lycan into order with her guidance! Yes, if they only saw that her way was best. The coven could be great again; it would survive this Blood God and many other enemies after it. Their army would destroy those wretched lower castes of vampires and the Lycan.
She moved the Knight forward and her eyes lingered on the ivory piece.
Lastly, there was that hunter. So oddly like them and yet not one of them at all. The one thing that he had in common with the other three was that she didn't trust any one of them. But that was it.
Her eyes wandered over the chess pieces again and a little hiss rumbled in her throat. As the clap of thunder boomed throughout the house, so did the scattering off all the little chess pieces as she swept her hand over the chess board in anger.
"Enough." It was time to go honour the dead.
The wind whipped around her viciously as if it wished to hurt her; its efforts were in vain. She stood on the balcony overlooking the gardens with dark blooms breaking off their frail stems. Gone, with the sweep of the Great Mother's hand. And yet, Amelia stood defiant and as the winds tunneled around her, lightly mussing her hair which was swept up in an elegant hair arrangement. Her eyes remained fixed on some distance point but she saw nothing. Resting her fingertips on the marble veranda, she remained motionless and could be mistaken for one of the marble statues gracing the garden.
The Elder was preoccupied. It seems that she was destined to be flanked by men. Dangerous men, who through their charm, power or desires to help her kind were attractive, but whose egos or emphasis on self-importance was great reason for caution. Upon careful examination, Amelia found that her coven's strain of vampirism was truly superior to the rest. That was a source of pride - as much as one could say that one can be proud of a virus -and yet, again, caution lest Drake or the Merovingian make a power play to try to dominate them. As far as she knew, her kind was some of the oldest and strongest true vampires there were. The others were the remnants of mortals ravaged by a disease that they could not control. If she was to die in this war she would do so, but not before taking Deacon Frost's pathetic minions down with her and making sure that a strong anointed Elder took her place.
She walked back inside, shutting the cathedral-styled windows behind her and made her way through the sitting room only to stop at a chessboard lying on a mahogany table.
Moving the king forward with a slender fingertip, she stared at the squares.
On one hand there was Drake, sort of like Viktor: promising victory with the ability to deliver, egotistical in his own right, strong and stubborn with the desire to protect the bloodlines. Yet callous with desire to expand whatever he meant by the ‘vampire nation’, with conquest, with the belief that superiority made one ethically exempt from certain moral principles.
Moving the other king from the other side, she slid him forward.
On the other hand, there was the Merovingian, slightly reminiscent of Marcus: The one with great power, even though others might not immediately understand its breadth and what it can do for you, enterprising, refined elegance masking sharp edges, a silent commanding presence and an understanding into the intricacies of the world. Yet, so suave that through his honeyed words she was still unsure of what to make of the incredible snake charmer who commanded some Lycan and vampires.
Drake had offered her power: reign over the vampires under a banner of one nation and getting rid of Deacon Frost. Truth was, she'd settle for the death of Frost, and wanted the eradication of those weaker vampire bloodlines whose inability to curb their bloodlust threatened their own little masquerade. She'd settle for the destruction of the Lycans so that for the first time in more than a thousand years, her house could know what peace was, if only for a moment. Amelia surely strained to remember what it was composed of.
With the Merovingian it was not what he could offer but what you could ask for....
The question with both of these men was: what were you willing to pay? Amelia was not nearly naive enough to believe that there were no strings attached. Powerful men don't give anything away for free, except their wrath.
Pushing the pawn forward with a fingertip she thought of her next move in this new war.
Then there was Michael. Devastated, brooding Michael. Prone to quick emotion that quickly faded into self-pity. Just like Lucian. But just like Lucian she had to take care that his bitterness did not overwhelm him and cause him to strike against them at a time that they didn’t need another front opening up on them. How to best mobilize him? How to make him forget about what he could no longer have and make him see that an alliance with the vampires was to his benefit? He could never be pure, such was his true curse, but he could bring the Lycan into order with her guidance! Yes, if they only saw that her way was best. The coven could be great again; it would survive this Blood God and many other enemies after it. Their army would destroy those wretched lower castes of vampires and the Lycan.
She moved the Knight forward and her eyes lingered on the ivory piece.
Lastly, there was that hunter. So oddly like them and yet not one of them at all. The one thing that he had in common with the other three was that she didn't trust any one of them. But that was it.
Her eyes wandered over the chess pieces again and a little hiss rumbled in her throat. As the clap of thunder boomed throughout the house, so did the scattering off all the little chess pieces as she swept her hand over the chess board in anger.
"Enough." It was time to go honour the dead.
