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 Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 12:53 am
The calling card that arrives is plain and black, golden embossed words on a strangely heavy parchment. They are sent to a select few – the stragglers of a forbidden auction and names whispered in the underground of people keeping strange habits and stranger company. On one side of the card reads the basic essential information: Date, Time, Location, Transportation as any other invitation would. On the reverse though, the card says:
The night of the dinner date brings with it the light of the waning moon and the smell of an oncoming storm. Remiel’s home is sizeable compared to his neighbours, nearly over-run with neglected clematis flowers climbing up and around every wall, but otherwise wholly unremarkable at first glance. The entire compound is gated off so that only a single meandering path leads to the main entrance of the home, with a small side path leading to a building for the servants quarters (which has remained unoccupied since Remiel had taken ownership of the land). A butler in modest, but finely cut cloth stands by the door to welcome the invited guests into the private parlour. “Please keep your pet at hand at all times,” he rasps in a parchment-dry voice, “If you have need of any…..’special’ dietary requirements for your….extra guests, please inform me directly. Otherwise, please use this time at your leisure to socialize with the other guests. Master Savorno will join you shortly.”
Oh dear I hope this is alright...If not, please feel free to delete > A <
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2011 12:55 am
When Everett Werrys had received the invitation, he had been wary. His butler and caretaker even moreso, but the young man, once he set his mind to a thing impulsively, could almost ne'er be gainsaid. With the parchment in hand, he arrived at the residence of one Remiel Savorno, a nice abode, not entirely unlike the one that the younger Werrys himself inhabited. Though, much like Everett himself, the youthful fellow rather suspected that there was more to him than met the eye. Vaguely he could recall the man, another of those who had made a winning bid on the auction that Friday the 13th, a most auspicious day, in his opinion. For it had been then that he acquired his oft-reluctant and ever-surly companion...a being who had not left his side since, the demon paddering at his heels as though leashed, never seeming to tire of sending his contractor looks that, should they be given physical manifestation, might have incinerated the man on the spot.
Despite Ryndict's demeanor, however, Everett was rather attached to the gruff creature. A sentiment which likely wasn't at all mutual.
Making their way up to the door, the silvery-haired demon hound cloaked so as to mask him from prying eyes, as was his usual, Everett presented their invitation in one fine-gloved hand, his attire not entirely unlike the finery that he'd worn to the auction, albeit a touch toned down for a dinner party. Canting head slightly to one side, he smiled bemusedly as the butler went on, and nodded politely. "From what I can tell, this chap eats naught more than rice and meat...it's what he told me, at any rate. I doubt that will be hard to oblige. Thank you." He could hear the derisive snort from Ryndict, as they stepped further into the parlor, and the demonic entity shed his cloak, a shiver running over him as he tossed the garment to the side as though it was loathsome. Almost too proud to hide, it seemed.
Straightening his sleeves, the human of the pair glanced over to the tanned creature beside him. "I know you didn't want to come, but do try to be tolerable whilst the evening lasts."
"If you wanted tolerable, then you shouldn't have brought me." Came the curt reply, Ryndict fussing at the rich crimson silk that lined the scarf about his neck, playing with it idly betwixt clawed fingers. This place made him antsy...reminded him perhaps a touch too much of the auction where he'd been sold, chained like an animal. Better than that...after all, a superior creature to these feeble mortal denizens of this place. Their own ignorance would be their undoing...but if they wanted to trot him out like a prize horse to dinner parties, that was their business. He would remember it, archive it away, and when the time came....he would collect on his debts.
"Ah, sorry sorry..." The man threw in cheerfully, clearly not a bit apologetic. "But you were a prerequisite for attendance, old chap."
The response was a less than friendly rumble.
Everett remained unsurprised.
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2011 12:20 pm
It was about time Amiel tried to socialize in a meaningful way. After all, he had given Valerian his heart in the hopes of being shed of its burden, had he not? So Amiel approached the door of the house, pressing against his side, where the invitation was safe inside a pocket of his suit jacket. The suit was immaculate, but sombre; it was meant for funerals and other business related to his profession as an embalmer. Not for celebrations. It was all he had that was relatively clean and new, however. After his wife left him, he had basically stopped acquiring new clothing.
Valerian leaned his chin against Amiel's shoulder, slowly pretending to sink his sharp teeth into the man's suit. "You're slobbering on it, Valerian," Amiel scolded him dispassionately. Valerian huffed and straightened.
"Why are you so callous, old man?" And then, as if remembering a joke which was funny only to him, he grinned cruelly, "Oh, wait, is it because I own your heart?" Valerian gloated, then rubbed his stomach. "I miss those hearts," he admitted, with a sigh. Even though Valerian hadn't needed sustenance in the same way since finally growing, he still liked them as snacks.
Valerian draped his arms around Amiel's neck, and Amiel clenched his jaw. "There is no chance of you failing to embarass me tonight, is there," Amiel stated, more than asked. In response, Valerian grew heavier, as he was clearly using Amiel to support some of his weight.
Rubbing the back of his scarred hand over his face, Amiel stared at the door for a while, unsure how to proceed. The butler fixed that for him, though. Valerian, seizing the moment, reached into Amiel's jacket and removed the invitation for him, handing it to the butler. Sooner than later they were ushered into the private parlour. It was Valerian who spoke to the butler, rather than Amiel, "Oooh, am I a special guest? If so, got any hearts around?" Valerian teased. He had already removed the restrictive suit jacket Amiel made him wear, its old edges frayed, the thread a faded chestnut where it might once have been red. He hood was the most annoying, though; he slid it off and massaged his head where his horns protruded. It made him sore to have to hide them, as they were not that inconspicuous. The intricate red tattoo over one eye was impossible to hide without makeup, and although Amiel had the skills to cover it up, they had not bothered this time. wings flapping a couple times before settling, Valerian excused himself into the parlour alone. The feathered wing was soft, gentle, while the other one's demonic skin seems to make a dry, rasping sound. Even his horns were different colours. That was probably the result of being leftover spirits. Not to mention his personality tended to fluctuate, bound only by a few key traits. Something so unhinged was difficult to contain, though.
Amiel was slightly uncomfortable, his movements stiff. He mimicked Valerian's ease quickly, however, and entered the room behind his demon. As they had approached the door earlier, Amiel had spotted the strangers already entering, but hadn't caught up in time. Once they were in, however, he found himself scanning the room for Ryndict and Everett, though naturally neither Amiel nor Valerian knew their names.
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Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2011 12:01 pm
The butler nodded politedly and collected the inviations from the the study flow of guests still arriving as midnight approached. Fading into the backdrop, he kept his eyes respectfully averted, never lingering on one face or the other overlong, and maintained a respectable distance from each of the guests.
If he were surprised to have the horned demon approach him, he did not show it, merely replying with a deep bow, "The purpose of this gathering shall be addressed by Master Savorno. If you so wish, we will have a selection of fresh hearts prepared for your dinner.You need only to tell us which creature." Bobbing his head, he produced a yellowed journal and ink pen from his breast pocket to note down the demon's words. Tearing out the sheet to pass on to a footservant, he added a curt, "Should you have any other requests, please contact me," before bidding a quick exit to introduce the newest entrant - a man dressed in deep reds and grey, finely made silk smoothed over velvet and embroidered clothe.
"Master Remiel Savorno," the butler said, bowing deeply as the man passed, disappearing into one of the many side doors.
Remiel regarded the crowd through lazily lidded eyes, an indulgent half-smile pulling at his lips. "Friends," he said, projecting his voice over the small din that had arisen, "My many thanks for your attendance. It pleases me to no end to see such a fortuitous gathering. It is of course, my pleasure to invite you to my home tonight. We will be moving straight to dinner, now that everyone has arrived, so please follow me through to the dining hall. Ah - though I do have one request."
He paused, making a small hand gesture that had several footservants stepping out from the alcoves. Each bore identical golden plates with strange metal circlets in the center - a sort of ornate collar with no leash. "If you could kindly place these around your.....demons' necks -" he raised a hand to forestall any protests, waiting for silence before continuing, "It is merely a precaution. Each ring is embedded with a very particular magnetic stone, which will prevent the wearer from passing the gates of this residence. I ask only that your demon wear it during their stay here in the manor."
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Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2011 10:03 am
Valerian took it for granted that the Butler wasn't disturbed by both his behaviour and his hardly-serious request. "That'd be a problem for you all, I think; I eat human hearts," Valerian added. He was already acclimating to being spoiled, and he hadn't even really gotten his foot in the door.
When the man who clearly appeared to be their host entered and addressed them, Amiel bowed in return automatically from where he stood. Valerian had flopped himself down wherever was comfortable, and lazed about, grinning. He winced as he leaned back wrong and pinned one of his wings, sat up again and massaged the demonic skin as though it was a pet. Amiel glanced over at Valerian with the host's request, expecting some kind of a revolt from his unpredictable and mostly spiteful demon companion. Instead, however, Valerian merely said, "You have some strange intimate tastes, but whatever turns you on." He smiled, shrugged, and beckoned to Amiel. "Bring it over to me? I'm comfortable here."
Amiel shook his head. He'd have to get up eventually anyway, as they were going to start dinner. So Valerian, with a heavy sigh as if it was a task which would take him aeons to complete, dragged himself over to Remiel and shouldered Amiel in passing, making the human grit his teeth in pain. Valerian didn't really understand pain. To him, it was a joke. It was just funny. He looked at the collars himself. "I'm part of a pact, not a pet," he mumbled, and then reached up to grab one of the collars. "Sure you don't want to put it on me yourself, Master Savorno?" Valerian asked.
Amiel was already deeply uncomfortable. Why could Valerian never behave himself? His shoulder was throbbing now, as well. He looked down at his hand and turned it in the light, making the dull scars shine. The flesh Valerian had bitten away had regenerated, at least.
What had he gotten himself into? This place was so luxurious. Amiel would have to make an extra effort to socialize, as it was his first time out in a long time, and he was bad at it in the first place.
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