RP:Callous Over

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc

Part of the Agitation Arc

Summary: Someone gets on Larewen's bad side, possibly. Deriin travels to Vailkrin with intent to recruit the vampire necromancer Larewen Dragana. To the backdrop of Eilyo's melody a secret arrangement is made under the guise of failure. Irenic hangs back to make chit chat.

Hanging Corpse Tavern

This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron candelabrum suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the Vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out. 

Larewen eventually returned to the Hanging Corpse, but only after she was certain that Emrith had taken his leave. To be frank, she wasn't sure she could emotionally handle any more of him at this present time. Upon crossing the threshold, a burst of dark energy traveled through the establishment, caressing those present and forming verdant silhouettes that were visible only to her augmented vision: it served as a method by which she could see, to some degree. The spell revealed no silhouette of the spell blade, and a flare of her nostrils did not garner his smell. With only the slightest visible sign of relief, the elf made her way to a pair of plush chairs and a small table, where she patiently awaited service.

Irenic was staying his post as his master request… Which is staying in down and 'being a good bad boy' for the moment. He could almost feel something dreadful in t he hair and he couldn't distinguish weather or not it was his usual unease of the vampire town or maybe something wrong with Lady Dragana, sometime he could sense these things about his owner. He keeps his stoic silvery gaze on the hearth of the fire and the glow of the flames dance on his tawny and tattooed skin; nervousness causing him to pull the long sleeved of his v neck sweater up to the elbows. Another twitch of smoothing his light brown silvering hair back out of his gaze, waiting in patience. His wait was over and his instinct was to go to her, but he still waits for her request of him.

Derrin is heralded first by the sound of heavy chains dragging across the ground, which were led by two hulking wargs that on all fours were as tall as any man. First Fenrir shouldered in, the only visual difference from his brother Anfauglir being that he was bound to a thick iron-appearing chain attached to an equally sizable collar round his neck that snaked its way along the ground and disappeared into an overhanging sleeve of a fully robed man that shortly followed his physically intimidating pets into the tavern. None of his features were visible, shadowed by the heavy hood that blocked even his own vision to a degree. All over the robe were sigils of Vakmatharas, clearly his deity of worship but aside from that there were no other features to note. The necromancer didn't waste his time even bothering to look at all the walking, breathing filth that littered the landscape of the world above ground, all of the individuals to him individual parts of the same pestilence that comprised all the problems in the world. One that needed to be expunged. Instead he allowed his pets to guide his way, their unnerving awareness and heightened intellect apparent when looking into their piercing gaze, or when it rested upon you. They halted just beyond the threshold of the tavern, heads swiveling left to right while they took several deep breaths through their nostrils to acquire all the knowledge they needed, assessing the situation, the air itself for any hints of danger from anyone to relay it to their master. Deriin himself was content to rest between their hips, their bulging, muscled bodies gently pressing against his shoulders while he waited. After they deemed it safe he received an almost imperceptible nudge from Fenrir while the warg gave a specific 'huff' that was the signal for their master to move about freely. At the same time he gained a signal from Anfauglir whom was on his right that there was at least one vampire in the tavern, one who was just as old if not a little older than himself and then was nudged to face her which at that signal the necromancer lifted his head so that his gaze which had been glued to the floor may rest upon the blind vampiress. It was there he stayed, his gaze unmoving just like the rest of his body, instead just taking in the filthy existence that Larewen was.

Eilyo didn't come to Vailkrin often these days, in stark comparison to the days when she could always be found tending the bar of the Corpse. Times change, however, and things happen, leading to the woman's habit of avoiding the town altogether. Tonight was not one of those nights. The woman crossed the threshold of the once oh so familiar room and paused, chewing idly on that full, rosy bottom lip of hers. A satchel hangs at her hip, the strap across her chest, resting in the middle of her bosom. Over this strap was a second one, attached to the mandolin resting against her back. The woman's long, thick, burgundy locks are currently held together loosely with a black ribbon, resting on her left shoulder and falling across her front, being kept off the instrument on her back. After glance around the room the vampire gracefully makes her across the floor to the bar, her skin-tight black leather pants showing off the shapely figure of her legs and rear as she moved. Black, high-heeled boots covered her feet, the tops reaching to just below her knees. A white, lacy tailcoat covered whatever top she may have been wearing, the buttons done up keeping that article of clothing our of sight for the time being. Once reaching the bar she ordered a blood-wine, turning around to lean against the bar-top while waiting for her order to be filled. She silently watched Derrin and his pets, a small frown on the woman's pretty face. She may be a vampire, but she was by no means a worshiper of Vakmatharas like so many of her race, but she knew enough and been around long enough to know the symbols when she saw them. She then glanced over the other vampire in the room, studying the former elf silently for a moment. Finally her gaze moves over to Irenic, sitting by the fire. Usually when she came into this tavern she sat near the fire, though she wasn't entirely sure how long she would stick around tonight. It would all depend on what happened next, she supposed.

Larewen lifted her head slightly as she sensed Irenic's presence, a few moments past his acknowledgment of her. The barmaid brought her drink without need for the elf to place her order: Lady Dragana spent more than enough time within the confines of this establishment over the years to earn herself the title of a regular. She debated, for a moment, whether or not to invite the avian closer, for their last encounter was still fresh on her mind, and was in fact mid-decision when the smell of the wargs wrinkled her nose. She exhaled a cold, unnecessary breath of air and her head turned just enough for augmented vision to fall upon the newcomer. "Necromancer," came the word, rolling smoothly off her tongue. As opposed to before, her voice had found its strength once more in silvery coldness. A moment later, those dark eyes moved beyond to the movement of Eilyo, and a distant memory was stirred within her mind. Vague recollection of the woman's identity, loosely linked to her smell, but not enough for the necromancer to recognize her by solely. Finally, an ungloved hand rose to beckon Irenic over.

Irenic had noticed the male impeding on his master, but only kept an elongated pointy ear out for any signs of trouble he might cause for her. It his time under her he has witnessed quite an array of colorful characters… Okay more like shades of black and grey, but just in case this wasn't the meeting of necromancers he was going to be there for Lady Dragana. His attention was now pulled into separate entities, Vakmatharas worshiper and this new face of what he will assume thus far is a bard. Silver eyes scanning over her before she looked in his direction and he shifted that gaze back to the fire and relaxed, attempting to seem less imposing. Alas, he was beckoned and he rose to his 6'11' stature and pulled a cloak around his neck, over the massive ivory wings in attempts to mask his scent. As impressively long booted strides he passed Eilyo on his way, surely looking down at the female and even when he took his place by his master, he continued to steal curious glances at the bard… Wondering if there was going to be a tune. His low and gruff tone reached out to Larewen, "Lady Dragana… Pleasure find you well." Their last encounter was also fresh in his mind and scarred upon his neck, but for the time being he didn't get too close as she seemed to alter whenever in a near proximity to him.

Derrin did not acknowledge the presence of anyone else, even if his wargs did turn their gazes towards both Eilyo, and then Irenic when he moved. The necromancer advanced slowly and with purpose towards the vampire "Dragana." he whispered, recognizing the name and with each click of his shoes upon the floor did he whisper it in his own mind repeatedly until he was standing on the opposing side of the table from her. Without prior permission the man invited himself to take a seat and continue to stare upon her form. "If you were anyone else, I'd treat you just like everyone else, as a filthy insect. I am Deriin, of house Fuer'yonii d'Aphyon. I am on a mission in search of Necromancers for the Order of the Shade. Need more specimens of reputable talent in some upcoming business that I believe you hold some interest in." his features as of yet still remained hidden, but from the shadow of his hood did his gaze slide to Irenic and then narrow, as though he didn't want his words to be heard by such a disgusting creature. Anfauglir at the time had begun to wander closer to Eilyo, sniffing in her direction and save for his stature and intimidating presence he meant no harm, just investigating.

Eilyo turned only briefly to grab ahold of the drink she ordered as it was placed on the bar behind her. With the drink now in her slender hand, the woman debates on whether she should play something or not...since she was trying to save the Guild and all. What better way to get bards interested and to get people interested in bards than to play music at any given chance? Before she could decide, Anfauglir began to move her way, causing the woman to pause and watch him a moment. He didn't seem to mean any harm, from what she could tell despite his stature and presence, and so she made up her mind. The woman tips her head back to take a swig of her drink, nearly finishing the drink before setting the glass back on the bar. She then gracefully saunters over towards the fire where she originally wanted to sit, taking the mandolin off her back as she moved. Standing there, facing the room, the woman begins to pluck the strings quietly to herself, checking it was still in tune. With a strum of all the strings to start, the woman then begins to play a melody for the room, soft and haunting with it's sound, perfect for The Corpse. No words accompanied the stringed instrument for the moment, her intention for the music to be more of a pleasant background sound. Better than any awkward silences that could feel the air, at least in her opinion.

Larewen was thankful for the small mercy afforded by Irenic carefully maintaining his distance. When he came to a stop and his query was posed, her chin angled upward as if those sightless eyes sought his own. Of course, they failed to find their mark, but nonetheless the elf offered a fleeting smile. "As well as the day might find me, dear heart," she said, and it was true: there would be no improvement, as far as she was concerned. "Yourself?" Just as the query finished, Derrin had settled himself without invitation at her table and to this, a dark brow arched upward. A pale hand reached outward, index finger curling around the stem of a bowled glass as she raised its contents to her lips. She took a sip before her head tilted slightly, dark eyes fixed loosely upon the other necromancer. "Bold," she stated, her voice maintaining that coolness. Her interest was, in fact, piqued but Larewen had no idea what sort of ears were present to hear that bit of information being offered, and thus she knew she must tread carefully. She was in enough trouble as it were. She shifted upon her chair, one leg crossing over the other as she reached into a pocket to tug free a small, silver case. From within it, she drew a cigarette and raised it to her lips. A wave of her hand saw its tip a glowing red. "You've walked into a public place, to make an inquiry of one of Lithrydel's Guild Leaders. You can't hardly think I'm that much of a fool, can you?" Her eyes narrowed slightly. Her other hand rose to a pendant at her neck that was, at present, hidden between her breasts. Tugging it in a non-chalant manner, it became visible to the other: a sigil of Vakmatharas. As Eilyo moved toward the fire and began to, eventually, play, her dark eyes were once more drawn in the other's direction, for she was vaguely reminiscent of a scene earlier in the day.

Irenic offers no reaction to Deriin as his gaze hadn't shifted from Eilyo, even if he saw the look he was getting from Deriin, he wouldn't care and he's not interest in this meeting because anything his master does remains between them, always. His eyes fell down at his master with a soft smirk, that dark tone answering in the silences, "I'm existing thanks to you." This was something he's said on more than one occasion as a reminder of their bond, how she rose him from near death. His fleeting gaze finds Eilyo again only passing over how bold the stranger was, Irenic didn't even sit, yet. No, he stayed standing and his scarred lips continued to smirk at the mandolin playing woman, enjoying for now. Some haunt of his erased passed memories made this moment a bit profound for him, he feels he hasn't enjoyed the sound of music in a long time; for reasons unknown to him now. He figuratively shakes the mental fog and makes himself stand at his masters side for support, but listen to the bard.

Derrin flicked his gaze back to Larewen while Anfauglir moved back to his master's right side and sat obedient and patiently. The music although considered beautiful would not be appraised by this drow for it was a form of entertainment he did not bother to relish in. In fact his life was void of most forms of pleasure so as to keep strong and set an example to those under him in his house. His eyes did not miss the flashing of the pendant, recognizing his deity's mark. "Death is coming, and the Order is not blind in the darkness. Our hand is guided by our Lord, and we follow the Shade with his blessing. It would not be unwise to consider the offer." Not necessarily subtle but discreet enough in the message to the fellow worshipper that Vakmatharas is watching Deriin and the order, and his wishes are the success of their plans. "With a path paved by the will of the Lord, the future is guaranteed to us who involve ourselves in his grand designs. If you do not however find interest, then I do hope you reconsider. I can be reached by letter in the Underdark. You have the name of my house." With that he stood, stepping back from the seat and waited for her answer. Regardless of her answer, he would be on his way once he got it.

Eilyo continued to play, the notes coming together to paint a beautiful picture with sound. She was aware of Irenic's stare, but she didn't acknowledge it, at least not obviously. She did occasionally glance towards him, but she played it off by glancing over the others in the room as well when she did. Derrin and his pets are watched warily, as the vampire's sensitive hearing could pick up on everything being said, and though she didn't understand all of it completely, she understood enough to know nothing good would come of that conversation. Still, there was no expression on her pretty face to reflect her thoughts on the matter.

Larewen offered a brief smile of warmth to Irenic, and might have otherwise reached out toward him. Her attention was drawn back to Derrin. Her smile quickly became a fanged scowl in lieu of his words, and her eyes reflected the sudden ire that she felt. Her words came in a low growl, "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear, drow. I have no interest in joining the Order of the Shade; I know enough about what they do, and the havoc they intend to wreak. My House, my Guild, and I want no part of that madness. You can take your leave, and forget you ever approached me. Be glad that I've not the desire to act more unkindly to you."

Irenic couldn't help but smirk a bit wider at this haughty drow bowing to worship a god. As far as Irenic has known that Avains, being as ancient as dragons, warship no gods; they warship themselves more than anything. For now, Irenic keeps this amusing revelation to himself, gaze still unmoved from the one playing the music until he realized he was staring and smirking, just awkwardly I guess. He cooly shifted his gaze for a moment to the waitress taking his order of which was anything strong without blood in it. Irenic was quick to scowl with a raise of a brow in reaction to his master being ruffled and he simply reached his hand to gently grip her shoulder as an offering of support and comfort.

Derrin did not in the slightest care for her tone, but due to her status and their shared worship of Vakmatharas he would spare her life this time. Her rejection of his offer was met with no change in facial expression and no words passed his lips. Instead he simply turned from the woman and her heathen slave to make his way from this tavern with his warg's guiding the way.

Eilyo noticed the tension, heard the words, and smirked ever so slightly, and briefly, to herself. Upon reaching the end of her song, the woman bows to any who were paying attention, smiling as she gingerly sets the mandolin down in one of the armchairs by the fire. She sauntered back over to the bar to get a new drink, still watching the other's out of the corner of her eyes. Derrin's departure is noted, the woman smiles to herself, keeping her face down to hide the expression as she much as possible. She relieved, to say the least, to see the man go.

Larewen is just as relieved as Eilyo to see, or rather hear, the male depart. To Irenic, she says quietly, "I am returning home. You are welcome to join me, if you wish, or you may linger. The choice is yours," the elf said softly as she raised upward from her chair. With a dip of her head vaguely in the other elder's direction, she too took her leave.

Irenic shrugged at the man leaving as he didn't really understand any of what went on between him and Lady Dragana. Irenic would nod to her and mention, "I'll be along." Offer a kind unseen smirk and watched her depart before taking his cloak off, revealing the massive ivory wings once more. He gingerly draped the cloak where he was sitting before moseying his way over to the bar to retrieve his drink and taking a generous sip. He realized he was standing next to Eilyo and offered her a smirk, "That was pleasant." He might have been remarking about her playing, but possibly a snide remark about what just transpired. At such a close proximity Eilyo would be able to smell her favorite scent emitting from the Avain; trait of the race.

Eilyo frowned for a brief moment as her favorite scent hails her senses, brief, sad thoughts crossing her mind. With a shake of her head, the woman forces a small smile, the expression tugging slightly at those lips of hers. "Aye?" She was unsure whether that was a compliment or a sarcastic remark. "Appreciate music do ya?" Her light alto tones were musical in quality, soft and light, tinted with a hint of some foreign accent. It was almost like a song itself any time the woman spoke.

Irenic chuckled shortly, "The music was actually much more pleasant… Apologies to you for witnessing what just transpired…. Whatever that is." He thinks for a moment at her question while his brow furrows as if trying to remembering something; silvery gaze taking in her features while leaning on the bar counter in order to shrink a bit of his height. "I actually… Don't remember, but I do appreciate what you just did." The drink again at his lips, wasn't something that could actually inebriate him as avians go… Even more so for the tall ones. He lets his wings shift slightly in their fold against his athletic form and if this slight movement stole the woman's gaze she might become a bit lost in it's reflections of pearly whites and metallic silvers to match his eyes and greying hair.

Eilyo was overly cautious of any new faces now-a-days, especially after what happened to her in the Underdark, so the shifting of his wings did indeed grab her attention. The woman found herself staring at those wings, getting lost in the reflection for a long moment, before finally shaking her head to come back to her senses. A thin brow is arched at his comment about not remembering, but she offers him a smile none the less. "Well, thank you love."

Irenic ran into nothing but new faces as his memories have been wiped thanks to Lady Dragana. He doesn’t remember how he might have gotten the scar on his brow or the one across his lips, the only one he remembers, for the time being - is the healing wound on his neck. He was relieved that for once he wasn't getting memory suppressing headache around this person, that’s a start. "Could I patronize you to play another, possibly?" He lifts his drink from the countertop and clears her path to the fire if she were to take him up on his offer while his gaze drifts back to her.

Eilyo briefly glanced over the scars on the man's face wondering what their stories could be, but her thoughts are not voiced. Instead she smirks at his request, nodding her head at him slightly. "But of course, love." She couldn't help with the pet names, she did it with everyone. She followed the man back towards the fire, lifting her mandolin from the chair upon reaching it. She runs her fingers gently across the strings while she thinks of what to play. Her decision seemingly made, the woman begins to play a hauntingly, beautiful tune. The notes are strung together in a bittersweet sort of way, conveying a sense of heartache. It was an emotion the woman knew well, and the tone of the mandolin suited the emotion well. At some point while playing the woman closes her eyes, focusing on the music, and the story her heart wanted to tell in song. Eventually words are sung, the light, alto tones coming from the woman perfectly pleasing in their true form. The language was that of her native home, so far from these lands that she had yet to find another that knew the tongue. She was in true form now, playing the mandolin gracefully and skillfully with those slender hands and singing with those melodic tones of hers.

Irenic shrunk his 6'11 height down into a free chair near the fire, drink in hand while draping his large wings on the armchair as if some expressive throw blanket. He watches her show with that devious smirk as he could tell that she was getting some self satisfaction from her own playing… Rightly so. Slowly sipping some more of his liquor while his mind wonders within the song, unable to find a trace of his own sentiment to the emotions her song was emitting… Although he knows he's caused this emotion at least once (countless times in his time before hollow). He relaxes back into the armchair as he tried to before, but was interrupted by his master. He was unable to remove his silvery gaze from her enchantment while his hand slipped into a pocket to free his coin pouch, but he felt he knew better to wait until the outro of the song to applaud and shower the performer with gifts.

Eilyo played her song to the end, a bittersweet sort of smile tugging at those full, rosy lips of hers. The song built up the same sweet, but sad notes, an obviously personal tale of heartache being told through her song. The song crescendos on a high note, before coming back down in a softer way, finally ending on a long note somewhere in the middle. The smile still played on her lips as the song ended, but the emotion never seems to reach her light, mossy eyes. A soul-deep sort of sadness could found there, in that soft gaze of hers. She curtsied slightly at the end, with a flourish of one of her arms, carefully holding her mandolin at her side with the other.

Irenic silently places his glass on a nearby table surface before standing at the end of her song and offering a soft palmed clap which was somehow heard over the rousing group of applause from the small idle crowd which usually frequents the tavern at this time of night. He looked into the pouch he procured from his pocket, causing some silvering light brown strands to fall into his view. He stepped in close to Eilyo granting her that favorite scent once more before gently placing coin into her hand, "Beautiful, lovely… All of that, but tell me." His silvery gaze would connect to her mossy one in curiosity, "What's that like?" He wouldn't ask a dumb question of 'have you ever felt heartache before?' she made it obvious, but he was curious about the when, what or who… He wasn't familiar wit the niceties or bad taste of asking a perfect stranger of such things.

Eilyo flashes a smile to the crowd that applauded her song, before turning her attention back to Irenic. The smile slips from her face at his question, her eyes darting to the ground instead of his face as she thinks of how to answer that question. "Heh..." The sound left her on an exhale, the woman then worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth a moment. With a deep sigh the woman lifts her eyes again, nodding her head towards the chairs in front of the fire. "Let's sit?" She moves to the chair without waiting for a response, gracefully dropping herself in the empty seat. Finally, after another long moment of chewing her lip, the woman speaks. "It'll always hurt, at least a little. It's always there, like a bruise that never heals." She runs a hand through her thick hair, brushing back the loose strands falling in her face. "I've had my heart broken far too many times...Almost feels like a curse...Heh." She glances away, staring into the fire as she loses herself in her memories.

Irenic would look down as she did, maybe there was something more interesting down there, but no. He watched her expression shift from just one question and that smirk returned exposing white, but slightly crowded teeth as he did indeed take his seat once more in the opposite armchair. He orders them another round of drinks from a tittering busty waitress which earned herself no adoration from Irenic and he leaned towards Eilyo a bit placing elbow on a knee of his, listening. "Hmph… From what I am told I apparently went into battle with a dragon for this reason… Or something like it." A shrug would prove he probably isn't very trusting of information on his past. His gaze followed her nervous hand fiddling with her hair and it stays on the unruly locks which frame her face, "A curse," He repeats as if it was a question before he too found himself looking into the brilliant light of the fire, "Do you ever wish you could forget it?"

Eilyo glances at him and nods slightly at his mention going to battle over heartache. "I can believe that, love. Wouldn't be the first time something like that 'appened." Her gaze settles back on the fire with a soft sigh, her brows furrowing as she frowns. "Always. But such is the curse of immortality..." And her race, but those words are left unsaid. The woman simply couldn't help but to think of herself as a monster, every day hating herself for being the undead creature she was, but alas that was neither here nor there. She turns her head to face him, a sad smile playing on those lips. "I've watched too many of my lovers die, lost my husband in a way as good as death, and had the rest disappear on me. There's a lot there that I understandably want to forget, ya know?" The woman lowers her gaze and turns her head away again after saying that.

Irenic let his attention get pulled back to Eilyo with a realization, but not entirely sure he playfully grimaces, "So you -are- a vampire?" He could never understand why he was always in a state of unease around vampires though he never made that information known or shown; possibly some old haunts. He could feel there wasn’t the usual reason of 'avians look down on vampires' but something dark and scarring in his mind. With a tsk of his tongue and that devious smirk, "Beings like us shouldn't worry about love or loss there of… We can have whatever we want." He was delivered their drinks and he shortly raises his glass to her in his proclamation which proves his arrogance even if it did accompany a compliment to her. "Apparently my fiance is already married off in the time I was in a coma… Close to death… Nothing compares to that." He paused briefly before he felt the need to clarify, "The being close to death bit… Not the being left part." There was something dark, yet wise in his admission with his sneer and short chuckle.

Eilyo ches subtlety at the mention of her race, but laughs it off with brief, bitter sounding chuckle. "Aye, that I am." The woman tried to hide she was a vampire as long as she could, but it was inevitable she would be found out. Another bitter chuckle escapes the woman as she shakes her head slightly. "I once had a fiance lose his memories and get with another woman all while I was pregnant with his child...So, I have an idea of how that is...Now the close death bit...I've had my share of those..." She shudders slightly, remembering all those moments she came close to her death, through the hands of a loved one, a monstrous centipede, and a psychotic Drow - all separate occasions. She takes a sip from the drink bought for her, once the drink was placed in her slender hand. Those dark thoughts clouded her eyes a moment, her gaze far off and distant.

Irenic let his tone become a bit more gruff while his eyes played in the dance of the fire before them, "It shrunk everything down into a linear perspective for me… Once I woke from my close slumber on the brink of eternity to see Lady Dragana's face; it all became so… Trivial… There are times she's so troubled by these feelings I no longer understand, but from what I have been told - I was never really the good guy. I've hunted for my own gain, I've used others to get further in my task… Even threats and blackmail weren't beneath me." His glass hangs loosely from his arm draped over the armchair after relaxing himself once more. "And here you are… You remember all of your close calls and it still sounds like you fear it… No?" Now he was looking at her, through her even.

Eilyo chuckles briefly at the that, a sadness in the sound. "My most recent...trauma, we'll call it, involved the use of fear magic...I haven't been the same since..." She frowns at the admission, chewing on her lip a moment. Daath's magic really did a number on her, leaving her mentally scarred, which is bound to happen after about three days torture. She shudders violently a moment, tipping her head back once it passed to down her drink in one swig. The woman takes a chance to be distracted from those dark thoughts by commenting on his comments. "Ah, well, do you feel like that is truly who you are and what you want to be? Or, if some one like that isn't what you want to be remembered as, take this as a chance to try again, eh?"

Irenic leaned forward again and rested his elbows on his knees, "Magic… Well, I am not too keen on it either." He offers a wink before he witnesses the moment something made her drink the rest of her spirits. He looks down at his own drink, useless as it was on him he downs his as well anyway. "Is it so bad that I don't actually -want- for anything?" He smooths his hair back as if it effected his thoughts on this deep subject. "And my mas-… Lady Dragana, rather… She has mentioned something about being able to take away the memories, but not the true way of the soul underneath. In conclusion, I could care less of what people thought of me. I did not care then, or so I am told, and I do not care now." Scarred brow quirks, "As far as trying again… I know I could, but at this time I am sitting back in the corners, watching and waiting, going unnoticed and quietly serving my purpose." Again a wink and a devious smirk.

Eilyo wasn't affected by the alcohol either, she drank for show. She was once a terrible alcoholic and same habits are hard to stop. The near slip did not go unnoticed by the woman, but any thoughts she had on it are kept to herself. Instead she focused on the rest of what he said, thinking over the words before responding in any way. She shrugs her slender shoulders at that, smirking slightly. "Well, there's that then, eh?" That said the woman decides she was tired of wearing her tailcoat, the shrugging making her realize she was a bit uncomfortable. She slips out of the white fabric, revealing the black corset underneath, the top cut low in a way to show off a flattering amount of cleavage; not too much, but not too little either. There was some stitching on the bodice part of the corset in an elaborate, curly design, reminiscent of lace. The cut of her top showed off the rest of her shapely figure, flowing seamlessly in it's image with her skin-tight, leather pants. After resting her coat and satchel together next to her chair, her mandolin resting against those, the woman then freed her long, burgundy locks from the ribbon holding them together. A slender hand reaches up and ruffles the locks slightly, the woman brushing her hair with her fingers to get it to fall in graceful curtains around her pretty face and down her back. The woman than frowns in thought a moment, a brief chewing of her bottom lip before she spoke again. "But are you sure there's nothing you want? Everyone wants something."

Irenic wasn't ashamed he has a master or that he is a slave, he feels he owes a great deal to Lady Dragana for saving him from death. He noticed the woman getting herself a bit more comfortable and he sets his drink down nearly missing the rest of the show she was putting on… He's seen this before, working on other men, attempts to work on him and he wonders if she was simply doing this on purpose. He glances around in a subtle manner and notices her charms working on the other patrons; pointed pierced ears picking up the objectifying remarks. "Ah…" His gaze reconnects with her's, "Well, chanteuse… What I want is not on the menu." Back in his old days he would do his own counter flaunting, maybe a 'tired' stretch in which exposes some of the deep valleys his abs impress on his tawny flesh peak from bottom of his sweater. As if it was muscle memory he actually did just that, not understanding why and catches himself mid stretch, clearing his throat and asking, "What is it you want, chanteuse? Is there something you want to be?"

Eilyo honestly wasn't trying to flirt or anything of the sort, but the woman was cursed with an unnatural grace and beauty, and adding in her flirty nature, everything the woman did was appealing. Men and women alike have been caught under the spell that was Eilyo. The other patrons are utterly ignored by the woman, proving this was nothing new to the woman. She almost broke down at his question, however, whatever comment she may have been thinking of lost to her. A single word is uttered, the sadness thick in her voice, tears threatening to form. "-Human.-" There was a raw sort of desperate need in her voice. She longed so deeply to be free of the terrible curse that was her immortality. It pained her soul to be a creature that depended on other's lifes for her own. She lets out a nervous sort-of sounding chuckle, glancing away after that, while running a hand through her hair. The woman clears her throat slightly, glancing back towards the man. "Well, what is it you want?"

Irenic watched her with a stoic expression as if he were trying to connect reason to being human once more, "I know you have probably been around for some time and obviously dealt with more burdens one soul could carry, but… I would think at some point we have to let these things callous over to allow us some edge for the next big challenge. I probably will gladly help you find a cure, if there is none known, we can find one… But do you think that once you are healed, you would die?" He stood slowly after another awkward pause and actually did stretch for real purposes, massive ivory wings adding to the specter that is Irenic; tall, slender, yet toned… Very well toned mid thirties devilishly handsome man. "Then if you die you have no purpose and you are giving up… I don't know you. Hell, I don't even know your name, chanteuse, but you don't seem like the giving up type." He sighs softly at her question while tucking his black cloak over his arm, "What I want?" he stares off into the distance, remembering Lady Dragana's initiative with him and what he's not supposed to be doing… Remembering that night of servitude where she cut. It. Off… Yes, that. A devious smirk came over him again while looking down at Eilyo, "It's just not obtainable…" He held his hand out before her to either shake or offer for a gentleman-top-of-the-hand-kiss, whichever she preferred - he would oblige, "I do wish to be seeing more of you.. It's nice." He would wink and stop off at the bar for a case of Larewen's usual to bring home to the House of Dragana.

Eilyo thought about what he said carefully, the words catching her a little by surprise. She hadn't really thought about that, perhaps more like avoided thinking about that, in her desperate want to be free of the vampire curse. The woman couldn't help herself when her eyes traveled to the man's abs as he stretched, but she did quickly look away, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. She's been so hung up on a certain someone for so long she almost forgot about the other men out there. She frowns a bit at his continuously vague answers, but offers her hand for the more gentlemanly way, with the top of the hand kiss. "Aye, and I you." Here a smirk tugs at those lips. "It is nice indeed." She thinks about it a moment before speaking up, telling him one last thing before he leaves. "Eilyo. My name is Eilyo, love."