Who Would Do Such Reprehensible Acts? The Aristocrats! - How Evil Spreads

[One Thread in a Tapestry]

OOC: This is a Mature thread that will contain themes of: Sexual Content, Abuse

These cold lands, bereft of life, are... So cruel.

After what had happened at the tavern and inn, Lyric had fled from the place he would have liked to have called home. A weight like no other rested on his mind, threatening to pull down his very will to keep going into the snow beneath him. What was the point after all? Where could he possibly find where he could peacefully exist unabated by his vampirism? He didn't know, but... He wouldn't find it if he stopped looking.

That is what he told himself anyway. While this last migration was easily his most horrible, it wasn't his first. There had been more than a few times where he thought someone would be clued into his condition, or where the threat of being caught was too dangerous to even attempt. These lands, they weren't just dangerous for travelers, they were dangerous to those like him in particular. The church was powerful, and people here highly superstitious. A vampire like him, in much of this land, would cause others to seek him out and kill him. The incident at the inn... It was bound to follow him. He was not safe here. But, then again, he also simply did not have a plan of where he could go. He knew precious little of the world, aimless despite his best efforts, and in a way was simply continuing his wild wanderings he began his unlife in. Day to day, location to location, desperate fight to desperate fight... Not against others, oh no. A fight against his own denial.

The clock to the next feeding was always ticking away, threatening him constantly, knowing that when it was up... Risks must be taken. And with risks came mistakes. And mistakes, well, those were deadly. He had to avoid people, but also be near enough them that the beast within him won't be starved and come out. That would be so, so much worse.

Cloaked and covered, Lyric fell into a familiar mindset of simply walking onward and hiding the moment he thought someone was coming as he travelled the roads. His obfuscation, once again, saving him from detection far more often than he could have ever realized. His heavy covering kept the sun at bay, and the blood he had taken from the bard who tried to kill him would sustain him for the foreseeable future. It was such high quality blood too; The taste of it would never leave his mind as his greatest feast to date. Fending off his hunger had never felt easier. So, suppose there was at least that.

Wandering the snowy veil that covered everything, his legs did not tire though his mind went blank. Being on foot took so so long, but at least he did not need to sleep anymore, yet again thanks to the bard. He could walk throughout the night and day, and so he had. The further he went, the fewer his chances of those who may or may not be after him finding him. Though, he wouldn't need to travel for long before these roads found someplace new...

A shockingly quaint village, with homes and houses dotting the side of the mountain like steps. To call it a village was perhaps a little underselling it, as Lyric, upon realizing he'd need to pass through it unless he was going to scale a mountain, would come to find it was far more populated than he realized.

This was more like a small city... The outskirts, yes, that had quaint little wooden cabins and lumber yards, but within, it had crowds of people. Dense, bustling crowds. It took all Lyric had not to get lost once he reached the heart of the labyrinth that was it's center; Individual homes gave way to packed apartment blocks that stretched high above, and even low into the ground. Slums, any one else might call it, with plenty of people packed together sitting along side the roads and against the buildings in the snow. Lyric hadn't seen anything quite like it since he had arrived in the port. That felt like years ago...

But, it would be here, trying to find a way out and pass through, that fate would have other plans for him.

[One Thread in a Tapestry]

Among these crowded streets, Lyric felt discomfort like nothing else. There were so many people! It felt like they were all looking at him, though he knew that couldn't of been the case. Often he was literally needing to brush by others by his very shoulders, and his paranoia sky rocketed as all the pushing ended up getting him spun around and losing his sense of direction. Which way had he come from again? Which way was out? The sooner he could leave this place, the better. This had him feeling like he was walking a knife's edge...

Yet, one thing became clear after he got lost: He might need to stay here. He could see them, constables of some sort, occasionally passing down the middle of the road where the crowd would break and give them space. Lyric, fear of being caught causing his imagination to wreck havoc on his psyche, decided as the crowds grew thinner and the sun was making way for the moon, that he would unfortunately need to stay here. Just for the night. As awful as the crowds of people were, at least he could blend into them. But, he feared being stopped at night by these authorities if he kept wandering the city. No doubt, there could be a curfew...

Fine. So be it! As the crowds seemed to disperse more and more, Lyric found opportunity in the gaps against the buildings for solitude. He found a unoccupied narrow alley way, not comfortable enough for loiterers, but enough for him to squeeze into and face away from the road. He had never done this in public before... The fear was choking him. He removed his backpack and, keeping his hood on, worked as quickly as he could. Taking off his veil, his goggles... Digging out his little makeup kit. The people around here, at least from what he could see, had a fairer complexion than what he had been wearing at Annie's inn. It seemed wise to use a similar color to help blend in, not to mention, just looking different than he had previously felt like the right move. He did his best, crammed between two buildings, a mirror in one hand and make up in the other...

It wasn't his best work, but it would have to do. Having his entire face covered like he had been, it looked more suspicions than simply doing his best with this and taking his chances.

Putting it all away and returning to the road, he underestimated how... Jarring it was, to have his face exposed like this. There was so many people around still! And they could see him! Yet, as he fought this urge to want to hide his visage yet again, he took a moment to observe people's movements. To see where they were all going, incase he might join them.

It was here, as the sun was falling and the streets were clearing, that quite the sight stole his attention. The sound of bells, and horses. A lot happened very quickly; The sudden activity on the street alarmed him as gaggles of mostly women suddenly came pouring out from their abodes. Within moments, a confused Lyric was getting pushed aside by all these ladies crowding the street, trying to find a spot along it's edges without being in the pathway of the oncoming horses.

What the fuck was going on!? Lyric, naturally, clammed up, finding himself among the flash mob that starting calling to this passerby as they approached. And the sight of it! It betrayed all expectation for Lyric. Rolling at a comfortable trot, the biggest, most beautiful horse Lyric had ever seen strode down the street. Behind him, a wagon of sorts. An ornate, very pretty and well-made wagon. An educated person might of thought to call it a 'carriage', but Lyric was not yet so sharp despite his scribe skills suggesting he should be.

This was the target of all this attention. This was the cause of the sudden chaos.

"Pick me!"

"Hey~!"

"This way!"

They all were trying their best, that was for sure. But as Lyric watched it go by at it's slow pace, it seemed to bring with it a settling presence as all who had lined up along the road became still and presentable. It was as if they were all trying to seem so well behaved, to be more easily spotted. As the horse drawn carriage was passing by, and Lyric could feast his eyes on it's luxurious ornate carved wood, it came to a... Stop.

Oh, that REALLY caused a quiet to come over them all. Blinking in confusion, intense curiosity and bewilderment overtaking his fear in the moment, Lyric just stared like a moth to flame as the door to the carriage opened and out stepped a man. A very rich, very flagrant looking man. It was immediately apparent to Lyric that this man was of a different class. A higher one. He had a finely trimmed goatee and black moustache, with slicked back hair that looked shiny with some kind of oil. His cloak draped over his shoulders a regal red color, and all along the neck was the biggest and fluffiest looking fur he had ever seen. It was like he was wearing a blanket.

Yet, the finery did not cause the rest of his equipment to escape Lyric's notice. Beneath it all, he was clearly wearing layers of leather armor with gleaming steel over a shoulder. And, a nasty looking curved scimitar. Past his sharply blunt nose, his eyes peered over the line that had gathered with a menacing aura behind them. One that, at least for Lyric, gave the sense that this was an intensely powerful man... Wearing clothes he certainly wasn't born to wear.

His footfalls were heavy on each step of the carriage, making the whole thing creak and bend slightly, as his eyes scanned over all their faces. Some tried their subtle ways, winking, blowing a kiss, fanning themselves... But, bizarrely, none dare speak. It was like they already knew doing so would not end well. What was this bizarre ritual? As Lyric wondered to himself what he was here to do, the man's sharp eyes scanned over them all that had been in Lyric's direction. And stopped.

Lyric's heart once again felt caught in his throat, a sense of dread filling him as they locked eyes. Was... He looking at him? The man's eyes, they reminded Lyric of a hawk. And he felt like a mouse. After a solid few seconds of him realizing they indeed were looking at him, Lyric's pupils shrunk like apertures in light. Could he see he was a vampire!? Had his cover been blown already!? Lyric, perhaps unintentionally, leaned back as if to hide from him safely behind the buxom woman beside him, panic filling him as the sound of compressing snow signaled his footsteps from the man rapidly approaching him.

The women to either side of Lyric, their hope was admirable, pretending for their moments that it was in fact they the man was staring at. But, he literally pushed them aside, a snarling grin crossing his face as he peered down triumphantly at Lyric. "You." He said, voice raspy. "Come on."

Lyric felt frozen. He didn't even know his legs could move, until they did, the smallest step forward turning into another as the man opened an arm, ushering him to move forward. Lyric was, frankly, terrified and confused. What was this!? The hell had he been picked out for!? Why him!? But the man's face, cleaned up as it was, had this sinister intent behind it that made Lyric too afraid to object to. For all his flashy finery, this man was a fighter, he could smell it.

Lips tightly sealed, Lyric walked over and stepped up into the carriage, the smell of the horse filling his senses as the sudden warmth from the inside enveloped him and banished the cold. If he weren't so freaked out by the scenario he found himself in, he might of been very impressed by the deep red cushioned interior...

But, the sound of the door slamming shut behind him ruined any chance he had for quiet appreciation. He felt a gloved hand push him, and immediately, Lyric sat down. And, across from him, this strange man. Lyric wasn't exactly of the tallest stature to begin with, but as the man sat confidently across from his with his legs spread open, it felt like he encompassed the entire rest of this space.

"My lord is going to like you. Has a certain taste for young faces like yours." Another sneer. "Congratulations."

What? Lyric was tense, legs together, hands on his knees, not wanting to move an inch in front of this guy. But, he felt he needed to respond, least he incur his wrath somehow. "W-What? Your... Lord?"

The man's eyebrows briefly curved, a sign of slight confusion. "Lord Belfry. Owns Belfry estate?" Lyric, naturally, didn't move. Showing no signs of recognition, the man seemed to catch on quickly that Lyric had no idea what he was talking about. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

Despite the intimidating look in his eyes, Lyric was finding enough courage to respond. "No, sir..."

"Well, I don't know how you street rats find your way begging here all the time, but you don't have to worry anymore. Eating whatever the fuck horrible scrap you get out there is a thing of the past. You get to live the high life now, in the estate up the hill." He paused, seeming to expect a reaction out of Lyric, but once again got none. "... You'd do well to thank me from pulling you out of that cess pit before someone else got to you first. Really, you people are usually more thankful."

The way he said that made Lyric's hair stand on end; Was that an order? Should he say anything? Weakly, Lyric gave his own half-committal retort. "Uh... Thank you. Sir-?"

"Godroy. And I don't actually care too much. You should probably work on it though for when your in front of Lord Belfry. You know, just incase he doesn't like you too well."

Well, that was worrying. The sudden lurch of the horse moving sent the whole carriage rocking, and though Lyric had to suddenly brace himself in his seat, he couldn't help but get this sinking feeling of worry in his gut again. There was a lot he didn't know, but, was about to find out. With him as the cargo, feeling like a honored guest and strange prisoner, Lyric and Sir Godroy were already making their way through the roads and up the hill to the grand gated Belfry Estate... A gorgeous pearl of the finest riches standing tall above the slums from which Lyric had been plucked.

And what was inside, Lyric could have never known.

[One Thread in a Tapestry]

The ride went on, and so did the quiet. Lyric had never been in a carriage before, but it was far more bumpy than he was expecting. Being so uncomfortably close to Godroy wasn't helping either. Suppose it would have been a good time to ask more questions, and he definitely had many, but... Not for Godroy. His words made it pretty clear how he looked at him. Yet, there was nothing else to look at, not even windows. It was like a strange little private space where the rest of the world could not see in, and those inside could not see out. All he could do was look towards their feet, and listen to all the noises as they travelled...

What was going to happen to him, he wondered?

Just as suddenly as it lurched to life, it came to a stop. They had arrived. The first to move was Godroy, wordlessly standing, needing to lower his head so as not to hit it's ceiling as he pushed open the door. Immediately, the cold air rushed in and the warmth rushed out, the look on the man's face telling Lyric all he needed to be told: You first. Lyric didn't question it, quick to his feet as he made his first steps out of the cabin... And was immediately amazed.

Vineyards, covered in snow, stretched out before him as far as he could see. Oil lamp posts lit the now dark night sky, dimming the stars, and making the gigantic estate building seem to glow from every window and door. It stole his attention, and his breath, staring open mouthed up at the sheer enormity of the wealth on display. He had never been anywhere so... High class. It was incredible to him.

He didn't even hear the carriage door shut behind him, Godroy pushing him with his palm and breaking Lyric's stupor. "Come on." He urged, stepping past him but keeping his glare finely fixed. There would be no time to admire, apparently. Lyric nodded quickly, still a little too nervous to even apologize yet quickly falling in step with the much taller man. Perhaps there would be more time to gawk once inside...

He was ushered in, past two of the biggest doors Lyric had ever seen, and was further greeted by awe inspiring sights. It was so well lit! A giant hanging candelabra hung from the high ceilings, where hand painted art decorated the domed roof. Beautiful red carpet covered the floor, splitting into paths that travelled up two huge curved sets of stairs. And the doors... So many doors! Where did they all go?

Godroy groaned in annoyance, gripping Lyric by the arm and pulling him along down a side path from this gigantic hall. It was hard to keep step now, Lyric's center of gravity thrown off balance with the man-handling, but tried his best. This was making him feel like some strange merchandise, getting moved about like this so callously. They were quickly greeted by a handful of others; Maids, from what Lyric could tell.

"Take this one to Fitz and get him ready for Lord Belfry." With that, he practically threw Lyric forward, the two maids literally catching him from stumbling. Wordlessly, they both simply bowed in unison. "Welcome to Belfry Estate." Godroy practically spat, words like venom, as Lyric collected his wits quick enough to see the scary man turn heel and make his way out the opposite direction. Almost immediately, the two girls started to tug him along, apparently his new holders.

"W-Wait," Lyric tried to say, "Where are we going?"

"Shhhhh..." One immediately hissed; "You need to be presentable before coming before Lord Belfry." Said another, in hushed whisper.

"Who is Lord Belfry?" Lyric asked, keeping up, but now minding his volume. They were really hustling, like his very presence was too offensive to behold. Indeed, he did look like he just came off the streets, but that was literally because he had. Briefly, the two maids shared confused glances, but... An answer came from neither for a long time, rushing Lyric down yet another hallway.

"Are you not from here?" One asked; "You'd do well not to ask questions right now. We need to get you out of those clothes before someone sees you." Seemingly at random, at least to Lyric, they made a hard stop and turn at one of the doors, hustling him inside. Immediately, the smell of perfume and powder assaulted the senses, an array of clothing, mirrors and uniforms dotting the walls. This seemed like a changing room. This had all been moving so quickly, it took only until now, as one of them took his backpack from him, that he realized this was danger.

"W-Wait! Wait a moment!" Lyric said, the maids already pulling his hood back. Finally, he showed some resistance. "Just hold on a second! I can change myself!"

"SHHH! Don't be fussy!!" One quickly shot back, full of annoyance, and holding Lyric by the shoulder as the other one seemed to be taking very fast measurements with a string. They moved with such practiced quickness, it gave the impression he was far from the first they did this too. But, for Lyric, the prospect of them undressing him was horrifying! They'd see his disguise immediately!

"No, no! Please, just wait a moment would you!?" He protested, shrugging her off of him, but not a moment later... A warm, wet rag covered his whole face, hands holding his head as they aggressively scrubbed all over his visage, muting him. Alarms went off in Lyric's head; This was IMMEDIATELY unacceptable! Without thought, he started to swing, trying to grab at them, trying to struggle, but with his face still covered these two women literally wrestled him to the ground. Why were they being so aggressive!? Why did they hurry so much!? Why was this melting down so fucking quickly!?

As he landed a kick on one of their stomachs, finally, it caused her to relent, the rag coming off his face as she reeled back. She was shocked, shocked, that he would use such violence! The woman clutched her stomach, the other withdrawing her own arms after witnessing Lyric so savagely (In their eyes) strike her. Lyric scrambled to sit up; they had brought him all the way to the floor, and when he did, he could feel his hooded cloak fall off his shoulders where the women had apparently managed to undo it's bindings.

Lyric panted, the unexpected struggle and the sudden lack of air irritating his senses, as he quickly saw both what he had managed to do to get them to finally stop, and also what they had managed to get off of him...

His top partially undone, and face assaulted by the scrubbing, his unnaturally pale, deathly skin was on display to see. It had been all but five minutes since he arrived, and already, they remove this disguise. The women, seeing this, paused at the sight. Lyric could see it on their faces, and it made him freeze in turn. Not this again... So soon!?

"Wait, please..." Lyric spoke, tone calm, but pleading. What could he really say? Yet, not awaiting any explanation, between finding he was duisguised and the fact that he had kicked them, the woman closest to the door suddenly bolted.

"Guards!" He heard her scream, running from the room. "Guards...!" Her voice trailed into the distance beyond the confines of this room, and Lyric turned to the other. This was bad, this was so bad...

"I can explain..." Lyric said, once more, trying to plead. But, as he made a move to get up, she took a dramatic step back from him, looking at him like she was trying to figure out if she should run or not. Coming to his feet, Lyric clutched the fabric of his top, trying to keep it from falling down his shoulders. "It's... It's not what it appears to be. I promise." What did it appear to be, exactly, he wasn't even sure. He was talking from his ass, not sure what to say to her. What could he? "I'm... I-"

The doors burst wide open again. The guards, they worked fast. Hardly a moment after Lyric could look back, he saw the shimmer of halberds metal-heads pointed squarely at him, plunging his heart into cold fear, thinking they would strike him. But, they did not. The guards, like everything here, looked very decorated... With tin hats sporting funny blue plumage, and some kind of crest worn over their front. Wordlessly, fearlessly, Lyric tried to find any sign of their eyes through the visors of their helmets, some kind of humanity, yet could spot none.

For a moment, a quiet came over the room. Lyric, exposed, with weapons pointed at him, wouldn't dare move. The guards made no move to apprehend him, and for a while, he feared they were contemplating killing him. But, no. Instead, it appeared they were just waiting for someone else to arrive...

Calming striding into the room, with the maid that had set the alarm close behind, was another man Lyric had not seen. He was a grim looking man, a hunched man... A menacing one. So much like Godroy, just looking at him gave Lyric a strange sense of dread, like he could see from the very onset that he was the bringer of bad omens. His gaunt face, and thin, spindly hair left an impression of a crypt keeper, and the contrastingly dark clothes he had compared to the colorful and vibrantly rich surroundings made him look like a reaper of death in a garden of roses. Grey eyes, similar to his own, glared at Lyric with intense scrutiny... And anger.

"You would deceive us to grant entry to the manor?" He asked openly, voice a low tremble. Lyric instinctively shook his head; He didn't mean to deceive anyone! Well, okay, he did, but not to come here! He didn't even know what he got wrapped up in. The hunched man stepped between the guards, who kept their weapons trained on Lyric. "What ails you? What disease is this? You thought you could get to Lord Belfry with your evil illness?"

Lyric shook his head all the harder. "No sir! I promise! I didn't-"

To Lyric's own shock, he felt his wrist get grabbed, the man gripping him as his eyes were clearly scanning his form. It shut Lyric up again; This was all too much. If this man discovered he was a vampire, he was surely dead. The people of this land, who well and truly hated all enemies of the church, would never allow even the slightest evidence of a vampire in their ranks, much less here. But, he thought he was diseased... Perhaps, at the best possible scenario, Lyric could be removed from this place and keep his life.

But, the visual observation was quickly turning into a probing, feeling his boney fingers start to press against his wrist. "You're cold..." Lyric's heart jumped into his throat. "I feel no pulse." Fuck. The man's scrutinous gaze turned steely. His grip tightened hard. This suspicions were being elevated, and Lyric felt the panic reach his knees, threatening to have him crumble. "... What ails you, boy?" He asked again, more threatening this time.

Lyric's mind raced. It raced to his books, those precious windows to the world he was so rarely afforded at the inn. "L... Leprocy..." He uttered, one of the few things he could think of. A disease that, surely, would make anyone want to unhand him. But, instead, the man's grip tightened further.

"You do not have leprosy." He hissed, anger in his voice. He said it with such confidence, such vile bitterness, Lyric felt his insides freeze. What could say? What could he do? As suddenly as it was snatched, the man let go of his wrist, immediately grabbing Lyric by his face. Lyric's breaths were short and fast, unable to break eye contact, and just waiting for him to spot something that would further add nails to his coffin. It wouldn't take long.

Turning Lyric's head side to side, the grey eyes held quiet calculation behind them. What this man knew, and what he could not, was Lyric's biggest source of fear in the moment. After some turning, he paused and, without a word, hooked his thumb into Lyric's cheek and pulled it back. Fangs. Lyric audibly gasped and, instinctively, threw his head back and away, but of course it was far too late now. The look of revelation in the man's grey eyes said it all.

Lyric was fucked.

"... Leave." He muttered, a sudden calm in his voice. The two guards, having held their position all this time, finally lifted their weapons. As they turned for the door and began to walk, Lyric was speechless. Why? What did that mean? What did this man know? After they were gone, the hunched man peered backward, making sure they were well and truly gone, he returned to his intense staring at Lyric. "You..."

Lyric was all ears. And, prepared for the worst, or at least anticipating it.

"Allow these women to help you dress. You understand?"

Lyric did, but, he was confused. So confused. Why dress him? What... Exactly was going to happen? Did he know? He must know. Through hardly contained tears, Lyric's lips held tight from sheer nerves, and he nodded. Not a moment sooner, the man gave a lazy gesture to the same maids that had tried before, and they now reapproached Lyric with slightly more caution, but... no less speed. Still as a scarecrow, Lyric allowed them to do their work... Solemn silence and dread for what the future might hold let loose within his brain as they completely stripped him naked, then, began to collect clothing from the racks.

The hunched man never turned his gaze. He seemed to continue his peering, looking at Lyric as if he could see straight through him to his very soul. Even as the panic within Lyric naturally subsided and gave way to simple fear, he never looked away from this strange man. It was the closest thing to bravery he had in the face of his biggest nightmare.

The outfit they had picked out for him... It was not quite what Lyric was expecting. Instead of billowy sleeves, or a nice tunic, they put in in... A lacy dark green dress, with a tight collar that sported the biggest ruby he had ever seen. It was only adding to the sheer oddity that was this entire scenario for him, able to break his gaze from the man and looking to a mirror...

His unbelievably white skin nearly looked blue it was so dead... And it contrasted so heavily with this... Dress? The collar reached up so high, it looked like his head was perched precariously atop, rather than attached to anything. Even his hair, they pulled back and secured with a golden pin. Why... Dress him like a woman? What was the purpose of this?

"... Come on. Let's go."

The man hadn't spoken the entire time he was dressed. Lyric turned his gaze to him, eyes wide with surprise yet again. "But... What of my makeup?"

"You want make up?" He raised a brow, looking annoyed. Lyric was worried; His skin was exposed. Wouldn't anybody who saw him like this be able to immediately tell...? The man gestured to the maids again. "Give him make up."

And, they did. Lipstick, and a little eye shadow. Not exactly... What he meant. Seeing himself in the mirror, expecting more yet not receiving any, Lyric felt a knot in his stomach. What... What the fuck was this!? Why emasculate him in such a way? This just seemed bizarre and perverted, and did nothing to hide his true nature. What was the deal here?

As if sensing the question as Lyric looked into the mirror across the room, the man offered explanation. "You'll look how Lord Belfry likes."

That... Was alarming. Strange; Did this Lord Belfry like to make all men dress like ladies? For what purpose? "But... What of my... Skin condition?"

The man's gaze narrowed, sharpening as Lyric could see him briefly grind his teeth at the question. Beady eyes went to the maids, then back to Lyric again. Decisions were made behind that look. "... Come with me."

Lyric felt a jolt, stepping forward to follow. The dress he wore went rather low... Low enough to cover his feet. It took more attention than he'd like to avoid tripping over it as the man lead him out into the hallway. Just past the doors, the same two guards who had only earlier been pointing heavy halberds at him escorted the two of them as they walked. Something told Lyric this 'armed escort' might not be something he'd find new for long.

"The women tell me you are new here."

"I am..."

"Then listen well, for I'm not telling you again: Lord Belfry owns this estate. Owns the entire township. He has a majority stake in every last business here, and landlord of every abode. Everything you see here belongs to him. Every person who lives here works for him. You understand?" Lyric nodded, remaining quietly, intently listening. Despite this unprecedented state of affairs, this was the closest thing he had to 'civil' conversation he'd had since he got here, one sided as it was. "What Lord Belfry wants, he will receive. Sir Godroy picked you up; You must fit the description of the Lord's request."

"Request for... What?" Lyric hoped asking a question would be okay.

"... Anything." The man didn't even turn to face him. And, no doubt, wouldn't elaborate. Though the answer felt ominous to Lyric, as if this was secretly a lion's den this entire time. "You'd do well not to question him. Or me, for that matter. I speak plainly to you now, but I am not your ally here." He shifted, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway, the escorts halting in turn. Lyric, too tried to come to a stop, only to catch the end of his dress and nearly fall onto his face, arms shooting out to counter balance as he spent a rather inelegant moment correcting himself to be fully present for what this man had to say so importantly it warrented stopping.

"I am Zekiel. Apothecary, Surgeon, Alchemist... In direct service to Lord Belfry. I serve his every medical need and want. Nothing he asks of me is beyond my doing, so long as I am provided the means. And you will do exactly as I say if you value your life. Do you understand?"

What now? He was threatening to kill him? This seemed very extreme, though, after being told the kind of hold this Lord Belfry had on this entire place... Perhaps it was simply the most honest thing he could have said. Coming to terms with this, it wouldn't be immediate, but... Lyric's answer would have to be swift to let him know he was lsitening. "Yes sir..."

"Good." He turned fully to Lyric now, an action that made his hair feel like they were standing on-end. "You will not address Lord Belfry until he has told you to. You will not speak of you're 'condition' either... To anyone." Lyric nodded at that. Of course not. But, did that mean his secret was safe for now...? "I will be speaking to Lord Belfry before I allow him to see you. You will wait quietly until you are told, and cause no further trouble. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good..." With that, he turned and continued his walking, Lyric following in tow automatically. "Welcome to Belfry Estate."




A lion's den would have been kinder...

[One Thread in a Tapestry]

It had only been minutes, but it felt like hours. They had lead Lyric to a private room, dimly lit, where he was to sit down and wait for word on what was next for him. Quietly, Lyric found himself pondering what his options might be. Staying in the quiet dark will invite rouge thoughts to enter anyone's mind. There was a mirror in this room too, the candle by him making one side of his face stand out in his reflection.

Whatever the dress up was for, it must not be for anything good. These clothes were the most expensive things he'd ever worn, but the fact that his pale skin was on display meant that his vampirism must not be something he needed to hide here. Or at least they must have thought so. Was Godroy out looking for someone with vampirism and could just tell at a glance? The women who lined the street, they were hoping to be picked over him. He had mentioned something about his looks when he picked him up... And Zekiel, too, said something about him just being something Lord Belfry liked.

But... The vampirism was clearly not expected. This must have thrown a spanner into their plans. But, did that mean he was doomed? Why have him get dressed? Realistically, these lands were so hostile to people like him, he should expect an execution...

The door opened, shattering his quiet contemplation as he looked to see the familiar sight of the two guards emerging and beckoning him to follow. It was time. Remembering what Zekiel told him, not to speak unless addressed, he remained silent as he nervously stood up to follow them out where he was immediately met with the same heightened pace, challenging himself not to trip over the damn dress yet again, all the way to yet another beautiful set of giant, ornate wooded doors. Why was everything here so damn big? The guards opened the door for him, and what was within looked as glorious as the entry way he had got to admire so briefly.

It looked like a ballroom, but in truth, ballrooms were smaller. What Lyric was looking at was a throne room. Polished floors, open and glorious, and awaiting at the end opposite to where they had emerged was a raised floor, stepping up and up, until it flattened out where a throne rested. There was even a second floor offering viewing angles from on high. Tonight, though, it was vast... And empty. Every step, no matter how quiet he tried to be, echoed slightly into the vastness, room lit by countless lanterns, and light refracted and spread over glimmering crystals from a hanging ornament that looked expensive enough to buy the entire room's value all over again.

Trying not to be star struck again, and luckily too nervous to want to slow down, Lyric treaded out across the large room, heading closer to the foot of the throne where he could meet the man responsible... Zekiel, and, Lyric assumed, Lord Belfry himself.

The throne itself was fashioned like a recliner, wide and cushioned, to allow it's owner to lounge. Though, as Lyric could see, it might have less to do with leisure and more to do with necessity. The man laying across the throne was... Well... Very large. Not large in frame, or large in build, no. Large in a very grotesque, profoundly disturbing way. His stomach was truly enormous, and his arms and legs folded upon themselves in a way Lyric had both never seen before and didn't know was possible. There was a human skeleton somewhere in there? The closer he got, the more unnerved he was. This was... Lord Belfry?

Behind the throne, dark outline unmistakable, was Zekiel. He was staring Lyric down as he approached, but, he also wasn't alone. Godroy, too, standing nearby... Off to the side, stood upon one of the steps leading up to the throne with his arms crossed and looking at Lyric with those sharp hawk-like eyes of his. All attention, Lyric could feel, was squarely upon him... And he couldn't of spoke if he had to. What could he do? Run? No, not now...

The massive man on the throne, draped loosly in what looked like an entire curtain, shifted up in his seat with apparent interest. He had the most striking blue eyes, had they not been covered up by folds of fat partially causing his brows to cover them, and a 'crown' that looked layered with red cloth and gold trimmings. All of it was so lavish it seemed this 'Lord' was going for more of a 'King' in truth.

Lyric came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, folding his hands in front of him as he looked up the steps at them all. All these eyes, and no make up to cover his skin tone, it was burdening him with anxiety. Should he announce himself? Apologize? As he stood now, he looked more like a scared faun.

"What is your name, my dear?" Finally, came a voice. A loud, commanding voice. Perhaps that was the acoustics in this empty place, but at least for Lyric, that is how it came off. Lord Belfry himself, despite his jowls looking like it would prevent such a man from opening his jaw wide enough, managed to sound rather intimidating. Or, soft, in a strange way. Despite the situation, Lyric didn't immediately feel any malice in his question...

"Lyric, my lord." My lord? That came out naturally, without prompting. He was a quick learner when he had to be, and despite not being instructed to do or prepared, he was alert and sharp witted enough to make the correct assumption of who he was, and his title. Not that it would have taken a genius...

"Lyric..." He echoed, like trying out the name on his lips to see how it fit. "What a pretty name." A smile, or at least what Lyric thought was one, stretched across his face and parted the chasm of extra skin to reveal he did indeed have a face somewhere in there. "My advisor has told me you are a vampire..." Lyric could feel his heart sinking, even before Belfry could finish. "Is this true?"

There was that familiar ringing in Lyric's ears. A sense of profound fear that told him to run away. Nervously, he squeezed at his own hand and fingers, eyes darting to Godroy and Zekiel; Must he say it in front of them? Was this a test? Should he be honest? His throat felt so tight, he wasn't sure he could speak if he wanted to. The frightened look must have shown clearly on Lyric's face as, after perhaps a rude pause in giving an answer, he caught sight of Zekiel from behind the throne giving Lyric a knowing nod. Say it, it practically screamed. Admit it.

"I... I..." Lyric was trying, but the moment he opened his mouth and tried to speak, he would lose heart just before it could happen. This damning ringing in his ears, it was drowning his own senses out again. Without realizing it, he had been clutching his own hands all the tighter, climbing closer to his own chest. "I... Am... My lord..."

Somehow, despite everything, he got it out. Realistically, there was no point in denying it. Clearly, Zekiel knew... But, actually speaking it out loud, in front of all of them, with nothing to cover his face... It made his knees weak. Oh, he wanted to just fade away so badly. This was a nightmare.

Within Lyric's hardly contained composure, Zekiel and Belfry suddenly shared some words. Hushed whispers, spoken to one another, as if some things they had conferred with each other had been confirmed. Then, naturally, they looked back to Lyric. "These are dangerous lands for those such as you. Outside of these walls, you would be hunted... "

Wait, 'Outside these walls'? Lyric froze, hands stopping, as he stared up at Lord Belfry.

"You... Should count yourself lucky Godroy found you and brought you to me." The fat lord continued. "And what a specimen you are. Truly, Godroy, you've outdone yourself." To that, Godroy took a bow. But, notably, did not speak. Seemed like a universal rule here not to talk unless otherwise made clear, at least in front of this apparently powerful man. "Come here, my Lyric, approach me."

'My' Lyric? Lyric, still stunned, hesitated but... Not for long. What was this turn of events? He didn't care that he was a vampire? Nervously, Lyric took his time at each step, climbing ever higher and closer to Belfry, seeing the huge hanging curtains that were opened on this occasion. As he reached it's final steps, passing Godroy, and getting a far better look at Lord Belfry than ever... Lyric could smell him...

He smelled fowl. His nose and senses that had him swooning over people like the bard nearly had him flinching with repulsion in the face of this man. He could tell, without even needing a taste, he would taste of grease and inbreeding. Only slightly better than drinking from a beast, which gave him nothing.

"Come closer." He said, a chubby hand lift up to invite him over.

Lyric hadn't even realized he slowed to a stop after getting to the top. He didn't want to get closer. Yet, he did, of course. As the distance between them closed and Lyric found himself looking down at the man, he clammed back up, not wanting to open his mouth and that bothersome smell laboring his breathing. He was... Gross.

Without prompting, Belfry's hand reached up and rested squarely on Lyric's cheek. Then, almost immediately, came off. "Oh, you are so cold!" He said, then chuckled in amusement. "Godroy, bring us wine, that should warm him up. You like wine, do you not?"

Lyric realized the question was meant for him, to which, he wasn't sure what to say. The power imbalance here was so askew, he didn't want to say 'No' to anything this man asked, but... They made him admit to what he was, so... "I... I'm sorry sir, I can't eat food."

"No?" Belfry sounded confused, then made a look back at Zekiel full of questioning.

Apparently taking that as his queue, Zekiel finally spoke. "Not all vampire bloodlines can eat regular food or drink, my lord. Lyric likely can only drink blood."

"Oh? Is that so?" Belfry seemed intrigued and curious more than annoyed, something Lyric was thankful for. It didn't make him any less uncomfortable to be around this man, but at least he didn't seem to upset him so far. "Well, that's quite alright. More for me then." He gave out a labored chuckle again, and Lyric just couldn't make heads or tails of what he should be doing, if anything at all.
"Well my dear, in any case, I want you to feel welcome here at my estate. Thank goodness you've found yourself to me before a hunter found you. Pretty little things like you are already so rare here, but when Zekiel told me of what you were and what it meant, I was elated!"

Pretty? Could boys be pretty? It felt somehow worse coming from someone so ugly on the inside and out. And what did he mean by 'What it meant'? Did his arrival mean anything?

Before Lyric could dare inquire though, Belfry wasn't done. "You've nothing to fear anymore. Lord Belfry himself has you now. Your every need will be met. How do you feel?"

How did he feel? Lyric wasn't sure about that himself. Confused, mostly. This... This seemed both fortunate, and not. Shouldn't they be far more hostile to the likes of him? To what end was this exactly? "I... I'm-"

"No need to feel afraid of me my dear." Belfry interrupted him. "I know it must of been an arduous journey until now. You don't need to thank me quite yet, I know that will come in time." A laugh emerged from his chest. "Poor thing." He looked to Godroy, "See to it this one finds their room. It is so late into the night, I'm sure they wish to settle."

"Yes, Lord Belfry." Godroy answered, moving to Lyric immediately and sounding far more proper than he was when they last talked in the carriage.

"My own sleep calls me..." As if on purpose, a yawn caught Belfry in the moment to punctuate the moment. "But I do look forward to learning more about you in the morrow, my dear." Lyric felt a tug; Godroy had grasped him by his arm again. Looking up at him, Lyric realized it was to keep him from actually saying anything. Once more, this was a hurried process, where he apparently didn't get to speak much at all.

"My servants will tend to you. I will see to it that whatever accommodations you need you will have. Tomorrow, after a wink of sleep, we will become well acquainted I assure you." That seemed directed at Lyric, though what followed was for Godroy. "Take them away."

Oh, how quickly the welcoming tone turned to indignance. Just as quickly as he seemed so pleased to have a vampire in his abode, he ordered him away like he was turning down another slice of food. Not that this man seemed one to turn down food. In a moment, Godroy was pulling him down the steps, and Lyric was harshly reminded to both keep up and stay quiet by the sheer force with which Godroy tugged him along. In his difficult stumbling, Lyric looked back once more at the throne to see Zekiel whispering once again with Belfry...

Whatever this was, there was no way this all had to do with some kind of good hearted nature on Lord Belfry's part. This stunk of conspiracy, and Lyric was somehow going to be a part of it, like it or not. Fate had once again set Lyric to an unusual circumstance, and as he was pulled along outside the bounds of the throne room, Lyric could only wonder what this place possibly had in store for him.

[One Thread in a Tapestry]

Godroy had lead him out, stumbling step by stumbling step in a desperate bid not to fall and literally be dragged by the man. After meeting Belfry in all his unpleasantness Lyric's head was spinning with questions. Why were they okay with having a vampire here? What would become of him exactly? Where the hell were they going anyway?

Not long after they had taken to the halls, Belfry turned to a nearby door, purposefully close to the throne room yet a turn or two out of sight from where they had entered. Even as they got closer, Lyric could hear the muffled echoes of singing coming from the other side. Women's voices. Without so much as a knock, Godroy burst through the door with Lyric in tow, the singing abruptly ended as three women were stunned into silence by the intrusion. Hardly a moment after stepping within, Godroy practically threw Lyric at them, sending him teetering and only just able to catch himself.

"See to this one's preparation." Godroy barked callously. "Give it what it needs." Before, just as quickly as he had so rudely arrived, turned out and slammed the door shut behind him.

Still reeling a bit from the rough treatment, Lyric straightened himself before finally getting to absorb his surroundings. It was not that dissimilar to the dressing room he had been brought to before, with clothing hung up on racks, and mirrors along the walls. However, there were also clearly some more living amenities. A cushioned couch (A rich luxury in Lyric's eyes) in the shape of an L, with small tables and chairs along the wall. In addition, Lyric could clearly see hanging hammocks, some over one another, where people could sleep. This was some kind of communal living space.

Most striking though was obviously the company he suddenly shared. Three women, all of different ages from the look of it, were gawking at their pale skinned new visitor. They had all been singing with one another as they lounge on the couch before he had come in. Lyric looked at them all; More people to see his bare face... It still felt so uncomfortable, especially with the looks on their faces. A disturbed silence fell over the room now as Lyric froze, not sure what to do or say.

Of the three women, the one who looked the oldest stood first. She was... Well... 'Gifted' in the chest, even if they did hang just a bit, characteristic of a mother. She was pretty to be sure, but the subtle signs of her age shown on her eyes, her black hair up in a messy bun. It was apparent immediately to Lyric she was most senior here, being the first to move and also the first to get past any apprehension looking at him.

"Your name?" She asked, a tone of authority in her voice.

Lyric's stupor broke. "Lyric, ma'am."

"Lyric..."
"That's a pretty name." Chimed in another, much younger of the women. She seemed no less gifted by her genetics, but had long blond hair let down without care. She even smiled at him warmly, much to Lyric's surprise.
"Godroy picked you out of the crowd, hm?" The older woman continued.

To that, Lyric nodded nervously. "He did..."

"Well, Lyric..." She began to make strides, coming out from the other side of the couch, her rather revealing nightgown leaving not much to the imagination. Though, Lyric was quickly realizing as he took in this place, that was probably not for anyone's benefit but Belfry's. "I'm sure you heard much about this place from the outside, but I'll tell you now you are in for a rude awakening. Pretty a girl you are, you may regret what's in store."

There it is again. Mistaking him for a woman. Though, given the dress they put him in, that was more forgivable he supposed. "Actually, I am... No girl, ma'am."

That seemed to cock an eyebrow from the woman. "Oh? Really?"

"Yes... They just... Made me wear this."

To that, the other two girls seemed to look at the eldest, all sharing the same question no doubt. One that Lyric was not privy to. In response, the older woman's shoulder sunk a bit, shaking her head briefly. Was it out of shame? Disbelief? Distain...?

"I am Elerda." She finally introduced herself. "The blond one is Clementine, the red head is Jessabelle." Clementine, evidently, took the moment to wave at Lyric after being introduced. Jessabelle, they still hadn't moved. "We're all Lord Belfry's Concubines and entertainment. As, now, are you."

... Concubines? He was a concubine now? A pit formed in his stomach; He had had his suspicions ever since they made him wear the dress, but hearing it confirmed was disheartening. The sheer thought that he was expected to do anything elicit with that giant pig of a man... "B-But ma'am, I am... Unable to bear children."

"Nor am I." she said bluntly. "Lord Belfry, try as he might, has failed to get anyone pregnant."
"Thank the Sway, am I right?" Clementine chimed in, eliciting a scant giggle from the ever quiet Jessabelle. Elerda rolled her eyes briefly, and stayed on track.
"'Tis just a title. Lord Belfry gets more pleasure from the act than hope for future generations anyway. He also has some rather 'foreign' tastes... Such as boys like you."

There it was again. The pit in his stomach grew. He felt like he could throw up, if only he had anything in his stomach. He must of looked visibly ill from hearing such a thing, as without saying a word in response, Elerda approached him, stealing his mind away from his woes for the moment as he looked up at her.

"There there..." She mentioned, placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it gently with a thumb. "Try not to think on it too much. We will help prepare you for... What's to come."

"Yeah Lord Belfry's got a small pecker anyway! Just act like you enjoy it and he'll leave you alone!"

"Clementine-! Pinch your tongue you daft thing! Lyric doesn't want to hear about that right now!"

It was true. He didn't. Elerda, apparently quite in tune with this, had the social awareness that said the obvious: Lyric was pretty uncomfortable right now, and talking about the gross task ahead of him was absolutely not going to help. Without another word on it, Elerda gave a gentle push to urge him to move along with her. He paid it no mind, having been lead around this place from the moment he got here, and fell in step with her as she took him round the couch. It was warmer here, closer to the fire place, and Lyric could not see face to face with everyone. That, still, was something he was going to need to get used to.

"This room is ours, and now yours too." Elerda mentioned. "I'll be honest: Don't expect too much privacy here. It's... A communal living."
"Speaking of privacy," Clementine, once again seeming the more eager and curious of the three of them, quickly chimed in. "Where are you from? You're so pale."

To that, Lyric's first inclination was to be tight lipped. "Well... Umm..."

"C'mon, we'll all be seeing each other in the nude before long, you can tell us."

She really liked bringing that up didn't she? They seemed nice, but damn if Lyric wasn't exactly invested in the lifestyle he was apparently thrust into. "It's just... A skin condition." A bold faced lie. But, a necessary one. He was going to live in close quarters with these women; What would they do if they thought he could bite them in their sleep?

"That's a weird one. Never seen anything like it before. Makes you look pale as a corpse."

"Clementine-! Gods woman, have you no filter?" Elerda chastised, shaking her head in disappointment or perhaps even annoyance. Yet still, even facing them all now, the silent third woman only stared without saying a word. She seemed okay, if not perhaps just a little younger than Clementine. Just laying eyes on them all, Lyric could tell Lord Belfry's taste in women: Attractive, at any age or body shape.

For once, Lyric dared ask something himself. "Is this... Everyone? Just the four of us?"

For a moment, the question left a lingering quiet. A heavy quiet. Without knowing it, perhaps Lyric had touched on something a little sensitive. Elerda though, eldest and so far most willing to speak and lead, answered. "For now, yes. I think we've had six in here at the most from any given time."

Naturally, that left the next question a pretty obvious one. "Where did the others go?"

"Well..." Elerda mulled things over in her head, seeming to be trying to sort through words and phrasing for how she would answer this. Before she did, she stepped away from Lyric, and casually took her seat onto the couch beside the other two, leaning back onto an arm rest. "... For one reason or another, they are made to leave. Some get too old for Lord Belfry's liking..." Something she herself no doubt must have on her mind sometimes. "Some get sick, and are thrown out. Others perhaps did something uncouth to displease him. We just had, not two months ago, a girl named Maya here with us. I think she got sick with something, so was removed..."

"So, we can still leave...?"

"I didn't say that..." Elerda droned, taking a moment to let out a sigh. "We don't know what happens to those they let go. We don't get to hear much of anything about the outside. We live in relative comfort and safety, in here, away from the cold outdoors in exchange for our pleasure. That's the trade off of living here."

"I see." Lyric's pit in his stomach wasn't going anywhere. This seemed rather... Unreal. Especially considering, as far as Lyric could tell, there wasn't exactly much choice involved in the process. Hell, he himself was just picked out of a crowd. Then, as he was processing things, another question came to mind. "Has there been other men here besides me? What happened to them?"

To that, once again, came a pregnant silence. Clementine even looked over at Elerda with interest, as if seeing if she would dare answer it. And, Elerda... Didn't. That did nothing for Lyric's confidence, seeing the sheer unease with which they all carried themselves in the face of his asking. They all clearly knew something about it but none of them wanted to say. What could it have possibly been? It didn't seem that grinding a question after all, unless something terrible had happened to the last male that had been brought into this room...

"... There has been at least one other in my own time here." Elerda finally said. "But... In the interest of not worrying you, I rather not say anymore."

Well, perhaps ironically, that was the most worrying thing she could have said! Lyric's brow tightened a bit, wearing the anxiousness on his face briefly. "I understand." But he didn't like it.

"Then take my advice Lyric: Sit down. Rest for a while. You've nowhere else to go, nothing else to do now."

Lyric didn't want to sit. He wanted to remain standing. It didn't feel right to just rest right now, for whatever reason. His senses were still tense, telling him he was in danger. What rest was there to be had? As his eyes seemed to peer at nothing, staring into the beautiful rug beneath him, Clementine chimed in.

"You're the first boy I've seen in this room." she said, sounding contrastingly cheery in the face of such dourness. "I bet you think you've struck it big, getting to sleep in a room with all these women, yeah?"

Could... She not read the room? Lyric pulled his gaze up from the floor, looking at her quizzically. He wasn't glad for anything right now, much less his roommates. Not only that, him being what he was, attraction on his part was... Weird. Weird enough for him not to want to try and explain to her how her being a woman didn't really matter. "Um... Excuse me?"

"Oh, you don't gotta say it." She said, blatantly winking at him. Elerda, in turn, rolled her eyes. She could definitely tell this was clashing with how Lyric was feeling, but, perhaps Clementine indeed intended for exactly this. What came off as perhaps being ditzy and socially unaware was in truth a calculated hard turn on her part, trying to course correct into something less stressful. Clementine, despite how she came off, was smarter than she first appeared. "I know I'M definitely interested in finally having some male companionship in here. I think you'll bring a welcome energy to our little troupe, Lyric."

This felt so out of no where and Lyric was not sure exactly how to handle it. It shook things up prety well, that was for sure, making him mentally break away from the spiral of depression in order to deal with this seemingly random assault of compliments and insinuation. "Thanks... It's... Good to meet you too."

"Do you like music, Lyric?"

He loved music. "Yes." His answer was given gently, but it came out so easily it was probably the simplest thing he could of answered in the moment.

"Good! I love music." She smiled at him, and seemed to nudge the mute woman beside her. "Come on, we were singing just before you came in. We can start from the top." Her eyes looked at Lyric now with a new sort of confusion, like she was amused he was standing up. "Soon as you sit down, anyway. Bit weird to sing to a standing audience, isn't it?"

Was it? Lyric didn't know. But, she succeeded in making him feel strange for being on his feet. Like what Elerda had tried to ask him to do before, Clemetine succeeded in getting him to sit down and start to calm down. Without a word, Lyric held his dress as he daintily took a seat on the edge of the couch cushion, the other side of the 'L' shape away from them, as Clemetine nodded with approval and seemed to try and get the others to join her in renewing their song making...

It would be the end of his first day in this new 'Home'.

[One Thread in a Tapestry]

“You sing very well.”

“Thank you!”
“It’s not that good, but it passes the time.”

For the first time since he arrived, Lyric was smiling. Their tiny choir, singing songs with no lyrics, treating
their voices like the littlest church organs brought such levity and calm to Lyric it became easy to forget where he was. Music just had that kind of effect on him. Suddenly, he was not so scared of tomorrow, not so uncomfortable in the dress, not so stressed about feeling exposed with his uncovered face. He didn’t know how to harmonize with them, never really singing himself, but so content to listen. His shoulders had come down a bit, the tensity leaving them, as he looked to the woman in his company with expectant glee. Alas, it wouldn’t last.

“I think it’s a bit late.” Elerda chimed, picking herself up from the trio. “I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.” Clementine was quick to respond, springing up from the couch effortlessly and quickly wheeling herself around it, even beating Elerda to the relatively small bed that they apparently were expected to share. Was that normal? Three women sharing one bed? Though, before she crawled in, the
youthful blond looked expectantly at Lyric. “Coming?” She asked, even giving the spot on the bed a pat as if to invite him.

To that Lyric’s smile wavered a bit. Not out of being upset with her, just a little unsure. “Um, no, that’s okay. I’m not sleepy.” It was true. He didn’t really sleep unless it had been a long time between his last meal, and frankly… He never shared a bed with anyone before.

“Aw, you sure?”
“He said he’s not tired Clem.” Elerda spoke, moving past her and climbing onto the bed, taking the spot closest to the wall. “Try not to wake us if you decide to come in…” She muttered as she settled in, turning away from them onto her side.

“It gets really cold in here at night.” Clementine forewarned, seeming to realize she wasn’t going to convince him of anything but still concerned as someone who clearly knew better. “Coming, Jess?”
The mute woman, still on the couch, shook her head.

“Suite yourselves.” Clemetine said, crawling into bed herself right next to Elerda. She made a little show
out of brushing the gap in the bed beside her, pulling the blanket up over herself but letting it remain
‘open’ where he was preparing. “If you change your mind, you can come in right beside ME, Lyric.” With a clearly amused expression on her face she coyly watch him for a reaction, but, Lyric would not
quite play along.

“Aha, thank you…” He said, still unsure if it would be a good idea. This dress was not meant for laying down, clearly, and he wasn’t about to try redressing himself while they were all awake. It would surely happen eventually weather he liked it or not… But, for now, while he still had a say in the matter, he wouldn’t be budging.

Without another word, the two in bed settled in and got comfortable, leaving little more than a sudden quiet hanging in the room and the tiniest sound of burning ashes as the fire did what it could against the cold. As they seemed to have resigned themselves to trying to sleep, it slowly dawned on Lyric that it was just himself and Jessabelle, the mute woman. He hadn’t been giving her too much attention all this time, the other two being far more talkative, but not that he was ‘alone’ with her as the last people awake, he realized how odd she was. Mainly, the quiet. Could she talk at all? When they were
harmonizing, she had been singing with them…

Atleast, he was pretty sure she was.

Lyric blinked and, in a moment of realization, caught himself. Had he been staring at her? She was silently looking at him through her messy dark hair, saying nothing, just meeting gazes from opposite ends of the couch like mannequins posed to be awkward teenagers. How long had he been staring quietly like this?

A normal person might feel obliged to break the silence, start conversation, but the sudden frog in
Lyric’s throat silenced any such attempt. Why did it have to be like this? He wrenched his gaze away, breaking eye contact to shatter the spell, and instead forced himself to look around for any little thing to
do so as to not stretch out this torturous social pressure any longer. Surely, if he made himself a tiny bit
busy, he would be able to justify his possibly rude quietness in front of the lady?

That’s when he noticed a book, sitting atop one of the dressers.

Perfect. Lyric liked to read, and books were always so educational and captivating to him. Without a word, he pulled himself onto his feet and daintily walked over to it, snatching it up and looking at it’s cover, conscious of the two in the room trying to sleep.

Bound in heavy leather, Lyric quietly brought it back over to the couch, letting it down onto his lap before pulling open the cover onto the first page. ‘On Philomel van der Aart & The Gilded Lily’. Huh. Lyric began to read through the opening pages, silently eyeing over the words before turning to the next page. Becoming engrossed rather quickly, the quiet setting allowed him to surrender himself to the book, idly ignoring his surroundings as he read along with increasingly eager interest.

That was, until he caught something in his periphery.

The sudden realization that Jessabelle had somehow not only gotten next to him, but was trying to look at the pages too, startled Lyric so badly it nearly bounced out of his lap, catching the book as it’s spine
stretched with the aches and pains of the sudden jostling, the page’s binding string audibly creaking.
“G-Goodness-!” Lyric exclaimed, the stutter allowing him not to burt out too loudly. “You scared me!”

She looked at him with surprised eyes, but otherwise, naturally, said nothing. The high of the moment was quick to pass, Lyric adjusting the book in his lap anew and collecting himself. This was unexpected behavior, at least to him. Maybe she liked to read?

“Did… You want to read?”

To his surprise, she nodded. Naturally, Lyric closed the book, and held it out for her. He observed as she
daintily took the rather heavy thing, pulling it into her own lap. Upside down. And opening it up, she peered into the pages… Starting from the wrong end. Watching her, it was slowly dawning on Lyric.
“Do… You know how to read?” He asked quietly, still mindful of the volume of his voice.
Pulling her wide eyed gaze up from the book back to him, she lightly shook her head. She had no idea how to read, and frankly, Lyric could tell. Still, the fact that she said yes when he offered told him she atleast wanted to be able to. Why else would she be so interested?

Momentarily letting this whole scenario mull about in his head, Lyric gave a conceited little sigh. “Would
you… Like me to read it to you?”

She nodded.

Alright, well then! Lyric held out his hand again, the woman handing the book back over to him where he promptly reoriented it into the right direction. “Ok.” He muttered, feeling a little funny over this. He had only ever read to children before, but this woman was an adult whom he’d presumably be spending a good deal of time with as long as he was here. Still, with how silent and inanimate she had been since he got here, seeing her eager was sort of endearing. Besides, he loved to read. As he opened back to the first page, she leaned in as if to follow along. Noticing this, and knowing she probably didn’t know what she was looking at, Lyric took his finger and put it on the first word, reading it aloud enough for just the two of them to hear so she could follow along with him. “In the city of Radasanth, what began as a simple collection of brothels would in time become the center of a powerful faction called the Gilded Lily…”

Lyric went on, reading through the pages and following his words with his finger, the mute woman beside him watching as listening as if taken by a spell until before long he was already catching up to where he had left off. It was an interesting historical recounting, at least he assumed it was. A story about the Gilded Lily and it’s leader named Philomel, who would go on to do incredible things, even raise their own army and own a pirate ship with the pirate king. It was all so fantastical, Lyric was as engrossed as Jessabelle as he read this (Admittedly shaky at times) retelling that it was difficult to tell if it was truth or fiction.

It was kind of inspiring to read about these larger than life people that were out there in this world. They
didn’t feel real half the time, like it didn’t make sense for such incredible deeds from such amazing people to exist out there while at the same time his miserable little corner of existence existed at the same time as them. These stories were like fables… With legendary weapons, overwhelming magics, and the people overcoming all odds.

Briefly, very briefly, he wondered if in some imaginary future, he could ever hold a candle to them.

Before he knew it, time had escaped him. He had been reading for so long, it took the feeling of something wet on his shoulder for him to pull away from it and turn his head, surprised to see Jessabelle not only resting her head on his shoulder, but asleep and drooling on him. The fire had mostly burnt out, the dimmest of embers giving what little light and warmth they had to him. Suppose, it really was bed time.

He shifted a little, the closing of the book shaking Jessabelle awake enough to not open her eyes, yet lift
her head. She scooted back a bit, sleepiness on her face, before promptly laying herself down onto the couch and curling up… With her head landing squarely onto Lyric’s lap.

Oh. This… This was fine. Lyric set the book aside, not wanting to crease the paper to hold his spot. He hated when people did that. If needed, he could find it again. Besides, in the weirdest way, he had found some small bit of kinship with the oddest one here. Jessabelle’s clear desire to want to read was admirable to him, and though he was no teacher and she wasn’t going to learn to read in a day, getting to share his own love of reading with someone was quite the experience. It brough back memories of the inn, where he worked as scribe before his damnable condition sent him running away again…

Without a word, and the discomfort of being so close to someone else rapidly fading, Lyric resigned himself to ‘sleep’ but shutting his eyes and doing his best. He wasn’t hungry enough to need a nap, being an expert at resisting his vampiric urges at this point, and could do what he did best and keep himself company within his own head as he took to daydreaming away all the worries of tomorrow…

He would need it for what’s to come.