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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 19:57:46 GMT -5
A lack of good sport had driven Haven from the icy wastes of Skyrim and into the open arms of the Imperial city. For many weeks now she had slithered her way through crowds and into the beds of many men. Haven found herself quite rich now, but that was a mere triviality. Her need to 'hunt' men, to make prey of them had intensified recently... since the encounter with Dreth.
She dropped her guard for him once, loved him once and she did not like it. What happened once, happened twice. She didn't want to lose her anger, her drive. Thankfully, a childhood full of rape and torture at the hands of a deranged Telivanni Wizard Lord help keep alive the fire it had started.
The Imperial city was all abuzz. Some festival was coming, Haven hadn't bothered to find out its name or what purpose it stood for, all she knew was that it meant there would be many drunk men, and many unattended coin purses.
Tables and decorations alighted the streets of the Talos Plaza, bustling crowds and flowing drinks. It was dusk, and the lanterns were being lit. Haven thought it was the perfect time to find herself a fitting victim.
She cruised between the many tables, dressed for seduction in her heeled thigh boots, skin tight silken breeches and a blouse of a deep azure green brocade. Her arms were covered in a great many bangles, elegant neck highlighted with a single pendant, and thick black hair beaded with strings of many coloured gems. She was dressed as brightly as any of the women present, but held a much darker purpose....
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 20:17:02 GMT -5
The noise in the Imperial City was higher than usual, people crowding its streets, chattering, dancing, performing in celebration. Dreth did not trouble himself with the customs of mortals, and so paid little attention to what was going on. The crowd made it easy for him to slip by unnoticed. Even the guards were celebrating tonight, leaving an easy outlet for crime and destruction. At one point, he might have cared. Now, he had one mission in mind.
Vampires, like mortals, were easily cloaked in money and finery. Even more so: vampires had far more time on their hands to collect such materials. Still, no amount of expensive clothing or flashy jewlery could hide a vampire from his own kind. The vampire that Dreth was here for would easily be found. He was likely hiding out in the masses, stalking his next victim. It would be simple for him to feed here. Dreth was half tempted to get a meal for himself. But, duty first.
This man that he was after had promised himself many years ago to Dreth's former mentor. An allegience to the Crimson Scar was never forgotten, and it was time for this blood sucker to pay his dues. Recruiting for the Scar was at an all time high. They needed bodies fast, and this particular vampire had money, connections, and high skill with sorcery. He would serve Sithis' purpose well.
A loud, raucous voice caught Dreth's sharp ears long before he rounded the corner. He could smell the blood on his target's breath as he dodged people and display tables, barely missing a firework as it was set off to his right. Red eyes honed on their target, he made a beeline for the short Imperial. He didn't stop for confrontation, merely swept past the man, hooking his fingers around the fur collar of his cloak and dragging him with. The man stumbled behind him, protesting angrily.
"A word, Amentius," Dreth growled to him, shoving him against the wall of the alley they were now in.
"On who's orders?" the Imperial demanded, trying to hide his fear, but completely unable. Dreth shoved his left upper arm into the vampire's face, showing him the brand of the Scar.
"Sithis," Dreth replied, eyes glinting. Yes, they had much to discuss tonight.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 20:40:10 GMT -5
The night was moving on, the crowds slowly braking up as pairs wandered off into dark corners and alleyways to celebrate privately. Haven had picked her target, and had a similar idea.
Come come, little man. Celebrate your death with me in this private little alleyway...
She sauntered towards the target, a young Imperial male, a rich fabric trader, or so she had been told. By the look of his attire she had been told correct. The man was a peacock, it was painfully obvious. He strutted and pranced and flaunted himself before a table full of woman, or at least he had, until Haven had caught his eye. Now he watched her with a look of rapture and she wound toward him through the crowd.
Closing the distance Haven pressed herself against him, lips to his ear.
"Shall we celebrate, my Lord?"
"Indeed, my fine Lady, we shall." We murmured, voice husky with lust as she took his hand and lead him towards an available alleyway. The stink of wine was heavy of his breath, and her heightened senses could hear his unmatched breathing, the unsteady heartbeat. This kill would be so easy she might even have time for another... or two.
She let herself be pressed against the alley wall, his hands roaming uncoordinated, his kisses peppering her face and neck were sloppy and disgusting. Haven forced down the bile that threatened to rise and turned her head away from him, looking deeper into the alley. The two men that stood there, deep in conversation sent her werewolf blood cold.
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 20:57:42 GMT -5
The sigh that escaped the Dunmer's mouth was one of lessening patience. Amentius was being tiresome, trying everything under the moon to get out of his contract with the Scar. Dreth had half a mind to kill the unhonorable fool and be done with this place. He was under strict order to either get this vampire's allegience or kill him and take whatever money and contacts he could. The latter seemed to be the lesser of two evils at the moment.
"I haven't spoken with him in four hundred years! There's no proof of any promise made," Amentius was arguing.
"You signed a contract with your own blood, you fool. Sithis does not forget a debt owed to him," Dreth countered.
"The man I signed that contract with is dead, it's completely invalid," the Imperial protested. With a move so swift it was barely visible, Dreth drew Farscythe from his side and pressed the blade to the vampire's throat, using his other hand to pin him to the wall. He could hear the racket of lovers at the other end of the alley, but paid it no mind.
"Perhaps I should spill a little more of your blood. You can make good on your contract anyway, even dead. Sithis particularly enjoys feasting on the souls of vampires. And traitors no less. He would have a parade with your essence," Dreth threatened softly.
Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. A familiar feeling clenched at his chest and his head whipped to the side. The lovers he'd heard earlier were pressed against a wall, the man enjoying himself too much, the woman... Haven. Eyes flashing, all reason left Dreth's mind. He threw Amentius to the ground, practically pushing himself out of the corner they were in. Drawing his other sword, he took large, determined strides toward the couple.
If it was a night for making good on promises, then it was time he made good on the one he'd made to himself. If it took every breath in his body, he would not let Haven Raif feed on another man in her life.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 21:10:26 GMT -5
Dreth was advancing towards her, eyes promising her a painful death. At first Haven did not believe he meant her such harm, he would beg her once more, want her back as a lover. But, no, the look did not change, simply intensify as it took her in, and the man taking advantage of her.
Haven pushed the drunken fool off her body, he staggered back at an alarming speed, head hitting the opposite wall with a definitive thud. Haven knew that sound. There was no way the merchant would be waking up again. But whether or not she would be able to come back and retrieve the valuables from his corpse was another matter. Dreth seemed intent on death, and Haven was sure he'd chase her round the city if need be. she just needed to keep him chasing long enough to tire him out. Then he'd lose interest.
"Fancy meeting you here, lover. I did not think you liked the taste of man flesh?" She taunted, indicating with her chin at the second vampire, now struggling to his feet.
Haven did not draw her blade, she stood confident and ready, smiling seductively as Dreth bore down on her, blades bared. Her reflexes were at there best. It was the night before full moon, she was as close as she could be to her wolf form without changing forms. She had the speed and the senses and the strength without the terrifying visage.
"Is it a fight you want then, Dearest Dreth," Haven continued her taunting, enjoying herself as she saw his anger grow, "Shall we fight like we did that night in Bruma? A fight of bodies beneath the bed covers? Or would you prefer to spill my blood. I do not think there is much of a difference."
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 21:22:05 GMT -5
The sickening crack that resonated from the unfortunate mortal's head did not turn Dreth's stomach as it may have were he sober. He was drunk though, drunk on rage, on bloodlust, on the pain of a horribly bruised ego. These were things that the vampire in him did not react well with. Fangs bared, he advanced on Haven with a purpose.
As he neared, Haven did not flinch. She stood, seemingly uncaring of his demeanor. He supposed she fancied herself having a chance in this situation. She had, after all, bested him before. But that was in the past. He'd been lovesick for her, and unexpecting of the outcome. He should have known better than to play with the big dogs if he was not willing to be one himself. Well, now he was willing.
Haven certainly was dressed to kill. She was decked out in jewls, dazzel, and fine clothes, probably all stolen, or purchased with stolen money. Her exploits were unjust, and if Dreth had any say in the matter, they would end this night. Ignoring her taunts of blood and bed, Dreth raised both swords. With a ferocious yell that would not likely be heard over the racket of the festivities, he let the blow come down.
The implications of the situation did not fully dawn on him. If his blow met Haven's flesh, she would be dead, left in a pool of all of the blood she'd spilt in her day. What would that mean for him? Would he be freed of this strange spell that had possessed him since their first meeting? Or would his mind crumble around him, subject to the whims of these demons that were plaguing him? It would all present itself soon, either way.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 21:42:15 GMT -5
Haven slid under his initial blow, feeling the air shiver with the blades passage. She hadn't expected a fight this night, and had not brought her bigger blades with her. Irony, the enchanted glass short sword, lay bundled up in her current lodgings. But Haven Raif was never short of a blade or two.
She quickly unsheathed a poisoned dagger from a secret pocket in her blouse, holding it before her, ready to strike once Dreth recovered from over-reaching on the last blow. She would not fight while he was not prepared, anyone else would be dead already, but she owed Dreth that much. It would be an honest fight.
As he righted himself Haven launched herself up the nearest alleywall, blade between her teeth and she used her hands to haul herself upwards. The sounds of his pursuit edging her on. She reached the rooftop first and grinned down at him and he followed her upwards.
"I prefer to be on top!" She called down, her grin continuing to taunt him.
The roof was tiled and hard for her to grip in heels so Haven hurried as fast as she could across the sloped rooftop, stopping when she found a private roof garden of some wealthy elf. It was flat ground and large enough for her to manage. Like any good woman Haven picked her battlegrounds, and positioned herself accordingly.
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 21:54:59 GMT -5
Nothing but air, thick and almost solid as his blades came crashing through. He stalled them just short of reaching the ground. If they got stuck in the soft earth, he would be at a high disadvantage. His first blow had missed, though Dreth had hardly expected anything less from the swift and quick-minded Dunmer woman.
In the time it took him to recover, she'd already pulled out a blade, ripe with the smell of some poison or another. She could have had it at his neck already if she wanted to, but strangely enough she gave him time to regain his ground. Then, like a cat (or werewolf, as it were), she was off, climbing the wall up to the rooftops. She was barely managing in her heels, and without though, Dreth followed after.
It was just like Haven to quip at her opponents when her life was in danger, always feeling the need to get the upper hand. Dreth would not let her words affect him though. He would give her the homefield advantage if that's what she wished. It made no difference to him. He could kill her on the ground, or toss her body from the roof when he was finished.
Haven stalled atop a greenhouse of sorts, a roofed in garden, a strange thing. She was standing there, blade at the ready, and Dreth allowed himself one fleeting moment to take her in; all of her seducing, murderous, beautiful glory. Then he launched in a flurry of blades and flesh and rage, unable to discern where he ended and his emotions began, uncapable of caring if he lived through this encounter. His entire dealing with this woman had driven him mad. He needed to end it.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 22:04:04 GMT -5
Haven waited for his approach. Her plan was blossoming. There was a single lamp in the rooftop garden and the moon covered in clouds. He approached with a predators poise, taking her in. Haven preened slightly, knowing he was admiring her body, before she grinned at him once more.
"Can Vampires see in the dark, my love?" She called before shattering the single lamp, and plunging them into darkness.
Instantly her eyes adjusted to the dark. They weren't as well adjusted as when she were in her true from, but Haven could deal with that. She picked up a small pot plant and threw it towards him, trying to gauge his aptitude in the darkness. She Watched as Dreth followed it through the darkness, but still wasn't sure enough to try and attack him point blank. If she got to close if was far to easy for him to run her through with ne of those silver blades.
She moved as quietly as she could around the garden, stepping over plants and rare fungi that reminded her of Morrowind. She was not two paces from him when his head snapped in her direction and she ducked sharply, kicking out with her leg, trying to trip him up.
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 22:16:17 GMT -5
The knowing glint in Haven's eye was recognized a moment too late, and suddenly they were plunged into darkness, too high up and far away from the festivities to receive any light from them. The loss of it was a momentary blow, but not a hard one. His eyes adjusted well enough and he just barely managed to dodge the pottery that came flying at his head.
Dreth stood completely still, knowing that his best assett were his nose and ears at this point. He listened for her, but she was light on her feet, completely silent. So instead, he took a deep breath, letting the scents of the night fill his nose. He sifted through them: fungi, flora, smoke, magic, sex, arousal... werewolf. The dark head snapped up as he caught the scent, but Haven had already made her move.
As her foot collided with his leg, Dreth's knee collapsed, bringing him to the ground. Adrenalin coarsed through his body, and he jumped to his feet quickly, ignoring the steady throb that now occupied his leg. Haven was near him now, near enough that he could feel the very heat of her body, hear the very pump of lycan blood through her veins. Making a split decision, he lunged out, slamming into her body and sending them both crashing to the ground.
They rolled around, each beast fighting for dominance, neither willing to give in. Haven slashed at him with her blade, but a hard blow to her face made her drop it. It clattered onto the concrete and skidded a few inches away.
He was on top of her now. He could feel every movement, every breath. He could feel how close he was to ending it all. He looked down into her eyes, barely visible in the dark. For the first time that night, he finally spoke to her.
"It shouldn't have had to end this way, Haven Raif. I regret that it did." With that, he raised one of his blades.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 22:32:13 GMT -5
He had her pinned beneath him, using him body weight to hold her down. Such positions brought back memories and she was tempted to remind him, but thought the better of it quickly. She was now at his mercy, well, from the look in his eyes there would be no mercy.
For the first time Haven felt death reaching out for her. The werewolf inside her began to lament its own death. He was so handsome, and she damn well loved him, and he was going to kill her. Haven couldn't think of anything more ironic. But maybe, if she did die... it would be better. He could empty her head of the memories.
"It shouldn't have had to end this way, Haven Raif. I regret that it did."
She quailed, but did not show it. Instead, She looked him directly in the eye, her own blazing with a mixture of love, relief and sadness. She could see her reflection in his blade, but it was shallow and empty to her eyes.
"You can kill me, Dreth," she murmured, raising her head to expose her beautifully arched neck. "Its for the best I think. Kill me, and then I can be free of him. I am sick of running from the monsters in my head."
She freed one of his hands from beneath his bulk and reached for the hilt, wrapping her hand around his own, steadying his hand for the killing blow.
"I'm sorry too." she whispered, and kissed him.
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 22:51:01 GMT -5
Anger, defiance, manipulation, planning... these were things that Dreth expected to see reflected in Haven's eyes as he hovered over her, seconds away from dealing her the blow of death. He saw none of these, and what he did see caught him by surprise. Enough to still his hand, to wait a few seconds more. He felt he owed this woman the chance to say a few last words, promises shared between only the two of them, whispers of something unfulfilled, and yet immensely filling in the same respect.
For the first time since he met her, Dreth felt like he could really see her; see everything that she was feeling, not just what she wanted him to think she was feeling. It made his heart clench to see a strong, resilliant woman like this so broken in her last fleeting moments of life.
"You can kill me, Dreth," she told him softly. Even now, when she was at his mercy, it was she who gave him permission. Fitting. She would always govern his actions. "It's for the best I think. Kill me, and then I can be free of him. I am sick of running from the monsters in my head."
The devistating beauty of it all made Dreth want to do exactly as she asked, and in the same moment he wanted nothing more than to be her night in shining armor. He wished so much that she would allow him, but she was too stubborn for such things.
As she raised one hand to assist his own, the hand that he would take her life with, she lifted her head from the ground, and met his lips in a kiss. Soft an sweet, quite unlike any others they had shared. It was real, the first real thing that he'd ever felt from her. And she loved him, he knew now, the way he loved her.
Her grip on his blad hand tighted as she lay back down, relenting, giving him the go ahead. It was now or never, the do or die, make your choice, speak now or forever hold your piece kind of situation that had him contemplating so many things. He knew that if he killed her, she would be free of her demons, but he would forever become a prisoner of his own. Forget serving Sithis, he would buy himself a oneway ticket to the Void. And then they could both be free. So simple. So poetic. So...
Impossible.
With a simple movement, Dreth unclenched his fingers, releasing the death grip he held on both swords. They clanged to the ground noisily, but he paid them no mind. Haven's grip still tight around his wrist, he leaned into her and kissed her the way he'd always wanted to, giving her silent promises of all the things he would spend the rest of his life giving to her. She could have whatever she wanted from him, anything in this world or in any other. He would get them for her. But he would not give her death. This was one order of hers that he would refuse to follow.
He loved her, and that was forever. Death or not, it would not change the way he felt. He would rather spend the rest of the night having known this one night with her, only to have her murder him after, than a lifetime with her bloodstains on his soul. No, much to both of their surprise, Haven Raif would not die by his hand tonight.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 23:09:47 GMT -5
When kisses were reigned down upon her, instead of the death she expected Haven was speechless, and shortly after, breathless, and Dreth continued to ravage her lips with his love. Her urge was to kiss back, kiss him into breathlessness, kiss him until he gave into her. But, for once, Haven bit down that urge and let herself be kisses. It was an amazing thing, for her, a seductress, to allow herself to be kissed and not to kiss.
She lost herself in it. The heady cocktail of love and comfort and vulnerability. She was like a child, talking her first sips of her fathers wine. It rose straight to her head, making her dizzy and reckless. Haven loved the feeling. The more she explored it, the more she wanted it.
As he broke the kiss gently, and cradled her head with his free hand she smiled up at him somewhat wryly.
"You bastard,"She grinned, "Were you really going to kill me? Or was that you plan all along?"
He seemed taken aback at her words, but she smiled reassuringly and pushed him off her, settling herself into his lap as soon as she was able. He was watching her expectantly, and Haven had to turn away before she could speak to the vampire.
"You win, Dreth. Alright? I love you. But I was trying to keep us both safe." She said lamely, shrugging her narrow shoulders. "I was being hunted by more than you.... and it was best if you weren't around."
It wasn't the best excuse for leaving him in the snow to die, but it was the only one she had. Haven was a master at lying to people, at tricking and deceiving and seducing with words, but it failed her know. It was happening all over again, the power of this man -vampire- crumbling everything she had made of herself. It was both invigorating and maddeningly frustrating.
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Post by Lorren on Jan 1, 2008 23:28:03 GMT -5
Once again, expectations were shattered as Haven allowed herself to be kissed without attempting to take control or turn the moment into something more. Dreth used the opportunity to show her everything that he could manage with that one action. He reveled in the way that his madness melted away with each sigh, the parting of her lips, the taste of her breath, the feel of her skin, leaving only undiluted emotion behind, raw and volitile, but pure.
When breath was lost on him, but necessary for survival, he let up, allowing time to recover. The smile he received was a mix of this new, surprising Haven that he'd managed to find, and the old one that he new so well.
"You win, Dreth. Alright? I love you. But I was trying to keep us both safe. I was being hunted by more than you.... and it was best if you weren't around."
She seemed reluctant to disclose this information to him, but he didn't care about any of it. Three words resonated in his mind, putting the vampire to sleep and letting the man come to life. I love you. She finally said it, finally put words to feeling. The sound of those words were like a swan's lament to his ears, beautiful, promising, inviting. He cared not of her monsters, or his at the moment. They could fight them later, face them together. All he cared about was the woman, now above him.
It was a lot for her, he could tell, to be admitting these things. To her, it was like a weakness. There would be time yet to show her that it was actually her greatest strength. Dreth gave her a few moments to mull over her thoughts, to make her next move. When she didn't, he decided to speak.
"I had every intention of killing you tonight, of sending your soul to the Void, even if that meant shattering my own. But there are puzzles that death cannot solve, and you are the one that I refuse to leave unfinished. The concept of love is a new one to you, I know. Of actions completed without want of any reciprocation, physical or otherwise. I do not expect you to fall into my arms and move away with me to the countryside. Whatever your wish, I will grant it Haven Raif. But you must know that I will no longer allow myself to be controlled by you. Our meeting in Skyrim pushed me to the brink of madness. I cannot chance meeting with that brink again."
There were no more words that he needed to say to her. If she had questions, he would answer; whishes, he would grant; dreams, he would fulfill. Or he would lie here with her atop him if she wanted. He was perfectly content with that scenerio as well. With any one, as long as this girl was involved.
Oh, what the Royals would say if they could see him now.
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Post by Eaving on Jan 1, 2008 23:41:36 GMT -5
Haven chuckled. "We would be chased from the countryside with torches and pitchforks, lover. That is maybe not a wise idea. But to be with you... I would like that. Whether or not the rest of the world will like that... whomever you work for I assume would kill you for it."
"You are running a high risk being with me, Dreth. I am sure of it. I do not want a husband, I shall not be your wife" She said the word with such disdain, "But I would be your lover, your equal."
Haven rose and turned to help him to his feet, smiling as he towered over her. It was something she enjoyed, something that added to the amazing sense of vulnerability yet safety, that he offered. Cautiously, almost experimentally, she lent against his chest, soaking in the presence of him. He wasn't as warm as a normal human being would be, and the wolf in her was unnerved by the closeness of him, but she could bury it all easily.
"My lodgings are not far from here... unless you would prefer to spend the night in this garden?"
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