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Moon lit interlude {Chateau de Choisel}

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The vast Choisel estates stretched out as far as they eye could pierce the gloom, labyrinth disappearing into the fog.  It was a spectacular view, unparalleled in its morbid splendor, from the grave stones to the courtyard that stretched below. Even the moon was in rare form, proudly shining in the perpetual twilight sky. It traded its typical bloodied hue for the bright white of a full moon. Cold and unfeeling beams cascaded down in such a way that it seemed day itself was upon them - except it wasn't. 

It was there, perched upon the highest tower she could climb, Doctor Quinnlan Nash lay on the inclined roof, one foot planted to keep herself from sliding down the domed tilt and both hands behind her head. Here, under the light of that glorious moon she could almost pretend she liked herself.....almost. The newly dead Doctor certainly liked how her alabaster skin stood out in stark contrast to the black she wore. She liked the red tint her once silver eyes took on, even those baby fangs she supported held some esteem to her. She liked being dead, the near invincibility of it. That's why she was on the tallest tower she could climb - to prove just how dead she was. Human Quin couldn't have climbed this high - should she fall from even a fraction of this height - well, good night forever human Doctor. But undead Quin  could climb it. 

The good Doctor first climbed the tower to simply laugh at how stupid mortality was. The failed attempt ended in a broken, but not dead, Quin. Pained fascination at feeling her body mend itself fueled an obsession to learn all she could about Vampire physiology, something that given a century or so could reach maturity. Several more attempts and missteps finally paid off in allowing Quin that which she wanted, a perch, and proof she was nearly invincible. Something she'd been warned she was not - but Quin was a deadly mix of being in the infancy of her undeadness and the hubris of someone that just shed the mortal coil. 

Beneath her Otto growled and whined, his way of protesting her choices. Namely because he could not climb the tower too, but also because he hated when she fell. Since her turning, Quin had a considerable amount more control over Otto - surprising to her, not to anyone else to be sure. Otto was borne of experimentation and vampiric blood, it made natural sense for him to respect and respond to that which helped create him. 

"Ich werde gleich unten sein." She grumbled at the impatient creature. 

Any other creature would have sighed in this moment, Quin didn't - she didn't need to breathe at all, in fact the habit was annoying. Yet here she was, fighting down the urge to do so as her thoughts wandered. More like worried and send cold tendrils of anxiety spiraling down her spine. The Master was gone and no one knew when he was coming back - Would the Master come back? 

What is The Master going to do to Alistair when he finds out what he did? 

That fizzure of anxiousness grew, all manner of awful things played through her head. None of them ending well for either of them. More concerning yet, she didn't really care too much what happened to her - but was far more concerned about her Sire. If something bad happened to him ...... Quin shook herself, she really hoped he wasn't eavesdropping in on her thoughts at this moment. She was still testing the limits of the hive mind they shared and didn't rightly know if he just knew all the time or only when he chose to tune in. The roof afforded some illusion of being alone for Quin - whether it did or not remained to be seen, but at least she felt alone. The last thing she wanted her Sire to know was she worried about him. Especially since his reasons for turning her were quite unclear, other than the obvious selfish reason of not wanting her to die on his watch while the Master was away. Far greater would the punishment be for him turning her though - at least in the way Quin saw it. 

Her initial reasons for climbing the tower dissolved as worry tortured her yet again. She'd hoped in her undead life she could give up the habit of obsessively worrying over someone else, perhaps it would take a few more decades for her to learn. A growl escaped her as a lip curled over a little fang, the sound causing Otto to roar more insistently at her to come down. 

 "Okay, okay, ich komme!" She said as she lifted a foot and allowed herself to slide down the tiled roof to the edge. 

As air met her, a hand reached out with incredible speed and grabbed the gargoyle pedestal jutting out from a window just below the roof. She caught herself mid fall and dangled for a moment, laughing as she swung and steadied herself.  Using holds she'd found on her way up she began the climb down. Otto's massive footfalls pacing beneath her to catch her should she slip again. 

@Greenmntman @Twitterpated @Etched In Stone @HumanBean03 @Eternity

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Not once had he ever used his bed, and yet here he found himself in the nude, rustled up into the sheets and the blanket that still faintly carried Quin's sickly, albeit living sillage. He recalled how delicious her blood was, even with the bitterness of her ailment to it. It didn't taste as poorly as cancer did, and to be hones he quite enjoyed it for what it was. Even more so the second time around. Alas, he would never taste her again. No, that bottle of wine had been emptied. As he lay motionless on his bed, he blankly stared at the wall in contemplation. How would the Master react to his actions? 

He had no idea what had become of Ira at this point, if he was still breathing or where he could be found. He'd saved the Good Doctor from an untimely demise, however, it came at the cost of doing something he though to be impossible still. As he could feel her even now, he dipped into her surface thoughts just long enough to see that she was wondering if the Master would return at all. Though he had no need to breath, he sighed as he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. After more than a few centuries in his company, the Majordomo didn't question if the Master would return, only when; And when he did, what would be Alistair's retribution?

He rolled back onto his side, torn between primarily two thoughts. In one hand, he was certain this was no different than when he'd saved her from her overdose recently. In which the Master's choice to lock her in the dungeon, coupled with her proximity to Ira, lead to her withdraws and nigh immediate health decline. None of this was his fault, he was nothing short of loyal to the Master. But in the other hand, would his Master see it his way? Would he understand why Alistair had acted so brashly on his own after centuries of dedicated services? Was Alistair content with potentially pissing away several decades to save her Quin's life, one way or another? He nuzzled his face into the sheet a bit more as he still peered at the wall with but a single scarlet optic. 'I have no regrets...'

@Greenmntman @Twitterpated @Etched In Stone @HumanBean03 @Eternity

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Finesse, grace, poise.........

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thud! 

Were not qualities Quin possessed.

The last ten feet of the climb down weren't as easy as the others. Instead of a climb it was more of an ungainly controlled fall. Broken only by the brief hand and foot holds she could manage until she hit the ground with an unceremonious thud. Quin hit the ground in a reverse belly flop, one that would have left her breathless - if she needed air that was!  Arm at an odd angle and legs akimbo, bits of grass and shrub sticking to her hair, she lay stone still and unblinking, very much like a broken porcelain doll that fell from a shelf. Quin stared at the twilight sky as she quickly gathered her wits about her once again. As soon as she regained her bearings, a giggle rose in her throat and she laughed. The odd sound echoed off the roofs she'd just tumbled from, any staff that happened to witness her fall looked on in mixed horror and confusion. 

Quin sat up, dislocated arm dangling and dragging her hand across the grass as she sat up. The wide grin she previously had turned into a grimace when she felt her socket slowly begin to correct itself - a process that both fascinated and pained the Doctor. One that always left her hungry afterwards, which meant she needed to seek out yet another section of that refugee camp, enjoy a nice snack, and get the hell out of there before she got caught. Anything that happened to be alive within the chateau was OFF LIMITS - making Ira, prisoners and test subjects a forbidden snack. She certainly hadn't mastered a live feeding, so the bloody mary was off limits too - at least for now. 

"If only I could have a to go cup or something -" She mused to herself, "Who am I kidding - I like killing those weak little blood bags"  

It took a moment to get her legs under her and stand. A task that was a little harder due to only one functioning arm. As she stood she staggered a little and regained her balance, fully ignoring Otto that hovered like a protective mother bird. With a quick command and a hand gesture he left her alone. Something he never respected when she was human. Another reason it was so much better to be dead, if only Ira saw it that way...... she was just so much more alive. 

A loud and painful 'pop' followed by crackling sound gave Quin pause - yes, this needed medical intervention. As a fledgling her body wasn't nearly so powerful as those that lived centuries longer than herself. It seemed she found a limitation - an irksome one. 

For the first time as a vampire, Quin stepped into her clinic. The door getting caught on debris on the floor as it was shoved open. The sight inside did cause Quin to take a reflexive breath that sounded very much like a gasp. 

Broken glass littered the floor and sparkled like fine sharp shards of glitter. Shelves of vials, beakers samples completely cleared from the walls. The various ingredients and liquids mixing in a viscous puddle on the floor - one that slowly ate away at the flooring and left a small hole. The eye that once tormented her was shriveled on the floor, a useless husk that meant nothing to her anymore. The table and work benches too were thrown across the room and upended. Nothing was left intact. While the walls and windows were self repairing - the contents of the lab were not. Hours, Days, Weeks - Months of work destroyed in mere moments as it seemed. Not that she needed the futile cure to her disease anymore - it still brought a strange pain to her still heart. The evidence of her desperate struggle for life was just staggering.....because it was all a useless waste of time. 

That strange squeezing feeling around her heart returned and if she could, Quin would have squeezed herself to keep from falling to pieces. Instead she let out something of a angered shriek at the futility of her human existence, how empty it really was.  A few more tantrum moments later and several smashed windows she left.

There wasn't anything for her there anymore. 


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Ira looked up as he sat, his back against the stone walls of the castle, and saw his hand gripping the bottom of a wooden mug. Lit by numerous candles around him in the great kitchen, he had found what amounted to a home tavern while still prisoner in a vampire castle.

"Wild" he thought. "One of these dropped from the ceiling, shatters on the ground. Could have a dozen dead vamps with the splinters flying everywhere." It had been a week since he had seen Quinn. He assumed she was either dead or a vampire, and quite frankly, he really wasn't sure which one was worse. He had found some sort of wine- something or another with fangs pointed him in the right direction - and he pretended like he was the honored guest of a drinking competition. At this point he thought that he was more of an amusement for the other residents of the castle than anything, but they had so far left him alone, and he wasn't going to disturb that. His wounds had healed surprisingly well considering the amount of alcohol he had put into his body the last several days. He pushed himself up off his ass, and went over to refill his mug. He didn't dare ask how old the wine was, but he had gotten drunk on much worse over the years. As the wine poured in, he tried to think of how many this was. And when the last time he ate solid food was. As he slowly inched down to sit again, his hand trembled and his mug fell from his grasp. Wine went everywhere on the floor, and as he bent over to clean it up, he caught a reflection of himself in the candlelight. Truth be told, he looked like shit. His beard had been scraggly before he even arrived, but it looked outright inhuman at this point. He hadn't washed himself in a blue moon, and looked more of a sad sack than a fighter of at least some renown.

"Time to get up" he said to himself after cleaning the mess. It would have been easier if the world wasn't spinning as hard as it was. He wandered the hall way looking for Alistair. All around the castle he wandered for what seemed like days to a man who could barely stand up. Finally he came to what seemed might be the right place. He walked up to the huge doors to the room and started pound on it.

"I know your in there! It is safe to say that I am no good with too much time and too much wine on my hands." If he was sober, or less stir crazy, he might have been more cautious. As it was, he decided to take his chances.

"When I sober up tomorrow, either eat me, let Quinn and I go, or give me a quest. Some sort of mission I can do to occupy my time as she figures things out here. I assume she is still breathing after all. After all, she's a fighter, and so am I. Certainly you must have something or someone that needs to die, be stolen, or what not. Your wasting a man of many talents being locked up in here!"


@Twitterpated @DarkHorse

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Quin initially intended to sulk about, namely since her mood was spoiled from the destruction of her lab and then subsequent discovery of how useless her human life was......She needed a pick me up, something to boost her mood once again, perhaps she could practice her illusions on the servants again? Or even go down to the dungeon and taunt anyone stupid enough to get stuck down there? 

Banging, slamming and shouting echoed down the halls of the Chateau. The shouting wasn't really coherent, but it was LOUD. The slurred words and erratic pounding on a wooden door just about bored a hole right through Quin's head. 

Clasping her hands over her ears she followed the sounds through the halls until she came to the source of the noise - Ira. Of course it was, she recognized that drunken burr anywhere. Quin peeked around the corner for but a second before vanishing again, she hadn't run into Ira since she was human.....and he wouldn't take kindly to her being dead. He simply wouldn't understand and likely get himself killed over it. Quin took a deep breath and willed herself to look like she used to - alive. It disgusted her to do so, but somewhere in that shredded sanity she still cared that Ira didn't get hurt.

Confident she was disguised enough that a drunken Ira wouldn't notice anything, she rounded the corner once again. Able to see clearer, she realized he was pounding on his own door - he looked a mess too. Dirty, unkempt and unshaven. He reeked like booze and dirty human, even the refugees didn't smell this bad. She wasn't even tempted to taste him - she'd probably get drunk simply off the alcohol levels in his bloodstream. 

"Ugh - Ira." She crinkled her nose as she approached. 

Luckily, Quin knew just how to handle Ira when he was in a drunken rage such as this one. In fact, she'd dealt with several of his drunken tirades during their years in the War together. This one was no different, it always followed the same pattern. 

First, Ira gets bored, mad, stuck in his own head, then - he drinks, and drinks and drinks. Then, he decides he's going to do something about whatever problem he just created in his head.... typically he would be drunk with their army mates - all of them deciding that what they needed was a good old fashioned brawl to break up the tension. Since he was alone, well he likely just needed something to do. A job, a task, just something. First thing was first though, she had to snap him out of it. 

"Ira." She said loudly, over his pounding and yelling, "You are yelling at your own door you drunken asshole." 

Quin firmly took him by the collar of his shirt and, since he was drunk, simply dragged him down the hallway to the bathroom. She signaled to several passing servants as she went, they fell in line each prepared for what they had to do. 

"You are a goddamned mess." She continued, "What they fuck is wrong with you? You are separated from Aiden for a little while and you fall to pieces!" 

She hated how she sounded like a nagging human mother, but someone had to stop him from wreaking havoc. 

The door to the bathroom swung open and she continued to march him in, dragging him along by the shirt collar. She didn't stop if he stumbled or tripped, she just kept on marching. Soldiers are soldiers and react better to direct commands, well at least he didn't argue when he was drunk. At least not with her. 

"Give him a bath, a trim and for fuck sake get him out of those disgusting clothes!" She said as she deposited him in the bathroom and closed the door on the entire mess. 

As the servants did as they were asked, she used the time to ponder the current problem. He wasn't causing a ruckus any more, but that didn't solve the issue with him having nothing to do. She would simply need to invent tasks to keep him occupied, keep herself from trying to sneak a taste, AND keep him from making Alistair mad. A tall order to be sure. 

Once he finished being cleaned up, Ira could find Quin leaning on he wall opposite the door, arms crossed, smirk on her lips. 

"You are a fucking idiot Ira." She fondly repeated the words she said a thousand times before, "I'm going to get you some food, then I have a job for you." 

She didn't want to go back to the lab, but there wasn't any way around it.... the lab made her look human....and at the moment there was no bigger task than cleaning it up and restoring her prior work. 


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Inevitably, he rose from his somberness and made easy work of making himself look presentable. Dressed largely the same as any other time he appeared, in slacks with a matching vest over a button up, he left the vest open today. Somewhat completing himself with black dress shows, nice and polished, he could still see the remnants of their prior festivities on them, though most outside of their kind would fail to notice anything. The minimal specks of blood and dirt told the story of their raid on the camp, and the doctor remained now as the living proof that simply couldn't be ignored or explained away. Casually, he strolled the halls of the house first to make sure that things were as in order as they could be. No signs of Master nor Martis as of yet. A calm took him that he didn't know he was capable of feeling. Was this relief? He stopped thinking about it considering the audacity that him, a child of the night was afraid of anything. He'd already died, how much worse could it get?

After his rounds, Alistair too a peek through Quin as he approached her and Ira from across the manner. It appeared she found him in as much a mess as he'd been since his arrival, more or less. Fortunately for him she'd already eaten, otherwise she might have been drinking him dry this instant. It wasn't often Alistair reminisced on his early days after turning, though there was one thing no vampire ever forgot. That hunger, that thirst! Once he happened upon them, he merely stood just out of line of site and crossed his arms as a shit eating grin crawled across his face. Fangs barred, his scarlet eyes fixed on the ruined couple.  

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Posted (edited)

The Master's return was a dreaded one, Martis had yet to be convicted by Council since the affair involving the Doctor. The first hand account of Alistair sipping into her limp body as he'd walk into the clinic doors. Flash backs haunted the vivid memory oh, how much more fxxx ups could the Dhampir afford? That night he saw her lifeless and overdosed! To keep her in condition, in wellbeing and health as she was prior the Count's sojourn. Meant make sure she was alive and still continuing the countless works for the Master. That was his troth to the Kronos before he rode off into the illuminated moonlight through the heavy gates of the Chateau into the Glen on nightmare chariot.

Assigned to Keeping her safe as a Butler of personal, yet he guilted himself for failing horribly at doing the one job he was tasked. Come to find out, Ms. Nash was still human then, but only a short while longer. Perhaps she, the Doctor felt a similar feeling of disbandment from the Dhampir and Alistair was all she could find comfort in? And then, there was no telling of what occured to her distant prison lover. He'd beat himself to a pulp to the point mentally, his hunger for blood, his humanity and every inch of what comprised the blue-eyed Moon child faced the brink of breaking. Reverting to monstrous natures were much easier than resisting them. Martis's undenying infatuation for the wondrous Ms. Nash led him to suffer from great manic depressions as the days carried forth. Even though he couldn't save her from the horrid Black Lung as did Alistair. Ultimately, it caused the Istrefi to break the preponderance commandment of all. Quin was no longer free of Will, she too, sold herself to a Devil of lesser equal at that. All the while, Istrefi the favorable played his role well as the true savior, a hero only claiming to suck poison from her blood removing the narcotic and nothing more. When he actually sired the Doctor and severed the bond between her and Leinhart.

Cursing himself for the mishap it's been nearly a week since his fleeing from the Chateau and when he did return, his cares for his self or others went disregarded and began to loathe the Coven even more so for allowing it. He had turned to feeding on live prey once again, from anything to rats passerbys in the Glen as he'd stalk the shadows and invoke his true vampiric ways. Blood-hungered and raged he'd retaliate soon enough.

Edited by Etched In Stone

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"O say can you see, by the dawn's early light. What so proudly, we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming....."

Riddling a tune monotonously words rolling over in minted breath, his unnatural maw extended gaping and wide unworldy in animation. On the outskirts of the Chateu a squealing vermin held betwixt the grip of pale bloodied digits. Squirming with all it's little effort to break from the hooded figure's constraint as Icy blues stared at the specimen inquisitively in awkward interest, squeezing the life away. A moment between prey and predator had come to be short lived. Cervantes feasted devilishly on any creature he'd find without a care, this was his Blood Rage and his second week of benging. All but a little of him remained, nigh deranged talking to himself as he held onto the little critter, yet in a state of contempt within he'd no longer seemed pressed by the worries of Quin. With a quick flick of the wrist he casted the rodent into the night littered sky, his eyes darted following. Dark cowhide shoes waited comfortably in stance, his chest poked forth towards the eternal sky. Mighty vampiric jaws adjusted themselves to swallow the Glen rat whole as it descended back down towards the earth. 


The Dhampir's eyes turned bloodshot in utter satisfaction for the pest as it transferred from his esophagus down to the gut. Venomous saliva easily acted as a synthesizer, breaking down protein without having them chewed to pieces. He'd felt no better since he refrained from artificial means of drinking. One of the most euphorias obtained this night. The once esteemed half-man undead no longer seemed to hold himself to such values, blarting a hideously loud belch over the land it seemed to echo from his tiny gain of a meal. With a smearing bloodied hand to pat his stomach he concomitantly wiped it clean across his tattered cloak, slowly dissipating back into abyss of the dark Glen he traversed in search of another delightful treat. 

Edited by Etched In Stone

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Ira was hearing things again as he struggled to ensure that his knees kept upright. Between the echos off the stone walls, the beer, and the tinnitus that had ruined his hearing at an early age, he found this was a fairly frequent occurrence in this strange castle. To be honest he had forgotten why he was slamming on the door a few minutes ago, but he knew there was a good reason for trying to get at Alistair. 

"You are yelling at your own door you drunken asshole.". Ira looked around and saw Quinn glaring at him, looking half furious and half like he was to be a pickled entree for dinner. This made sense, his insides felt like a pickle. He admitted to himself that he might have drank more than a bit too much. 

He felt her pull him across the castle as she lectured him, he supposed somethings didn't change. 

"What they fuck is wrong with you? You are separated from Aiden for a little while and you fall to pieces!" Boy she was right about that, he missed his buddy, and really hoped that Aiden was doing well. As Ira felt a knot in his stomach rumble,  his hair was being pulled as it was cut by one of the staff. Years of fighting together toward a purpose had left him not knowing what to do during his captivity without Aiden, and that might be what he was lacking. As he tried not to drown while the monsters bathed him, he realized that he might just be depressed because Aiden was possibly hurt and on his own. It also occurred to him that he might have a drinking problem...might. He wasn't sure what was causing this state of deep emotion in him, "Girly stuff" he deemed, but it had been a very trying week, and he supposed greater self awareness never hurt.

"I'm going to get you some food, then I have a job for you." Quinn looked very pleased with herself now that he was clean.

"Quinn!" he spoke out as she turned to leave, "Thanks. I really do need something to stay busy with."

He saw her look at him like she was trying to say, 'obviously.' In that moment it occurred to him that something just seemed - different - about Quin. He pointed at her and squinted his eyes. 

"Did you do something different?" He asked, pausing for a moment to think, "I know!" 

He spoke like it was a great "ah-ha" moment. He finally had figured it out, he was sure to get on her good side now. 

"You cut your hair didn't you?" 

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