RP:Dinner Is Served

Summary: Irenic doing slave things for Lady Dragana

House Dragana

Towering over the abyssal forest, the dark mass of House Dragana is no less eerie than the vegetation, or lack thereof, in which it stands. The mansion's outer perimeters are flanked by the twisting trees and there are no gates to prevent the seemingly less desirable denizens of the forest from trespassing upon the property. A sleek, obsidian walkway runs from the house's entry to the path. The only source of light without comes form wrought-iron lanterns that are placed on either side of the walkway, spaced perfectly from one another. Within them, an eldritch glow of a deep, verdant hue flickers. Those brave enough to approach House Dragana's doors will be greeted with iron knockers bearing blackened skulls, their eyes set with emeralds that glow with the same light from the lanterns. Within the house's walls, there is no shortage of decadence. Only the most elegant of furniture is placed throughout its rooms. A grand staircase of blackened wood leads to the upper levels, where rooms for those that reside within the house can be found. Midway up, the stairs split to the left and right, spiraling upward. Here, there is a landing with a set of double doors that leads to a large ballroom. The lower level of the house plays host to a dining area and kitchen, though rarely used, a grandiose library filled with grimoires and tomes, and a small museum of artifacts collected by the house's residents. Though there appear to be no candles to light the way, an ethereal glow floods the innards of the house, providing ample reading light - undoubtedly arcane in origin. Dark magic is weaved into the house's existence as a measure of protection.

Irenic had been spending a little extra time in Cenril whenever he wasn't needed in the House of Dragana by his master. He'd been using his free time researching something for his ex-fiance and also secretly hoping to run into one of the residents that reside there in Cenril, he'd been successful thus far. Smelling of the sea underneath what beings usually pick up, their favorite, coming from him this day and he was in much need of a bath from spending the past week - or two in the great library as the sea wasn't doing the trick anymore… Moments of grooming pass before he wondered about the home looking for something to eat and he was still very warm from the soaking, hair still wet, adorning ill fitting shorts, every inked decoration seeming to slither on his tawny skin. He was sure there wouldn't be much of anyone to see him in such a risqué state and the thought of the owner of the house being able to see again escaping his mind for now. 

Larewen stepped out of the confines of her office, likely to fetch a bottle of blood from the kitchen. It wasn't as good as a fresh kill, but it would at the very least stave off her hunger. She was dressed only in a simple, verdant gown with a pair of brown, leather slippers on her feet. The only jewelry she wore was her engagement ring, finally returned to its rightful place upon her finger. Dark, bistre-hued tresses framed her face in gentle waves and mismatched eyes wandered the expanse of the foyer as she crossed through it. The scent of food wafted from the kitchen, freshly cooked and savory. A roast, likely, for the living guests and members of House Dragana. When those silver and brown eyes alighted on Irenic, she blinked a time or two at him. "Well then," she said after a moment, unsure of how she ought to greet him. Her gaze lingered a bit longer than was normal, truly taking in his form for the first time.

Irenic tensed, muscles responding, not to show of how they cut in the light, but out of surprise and possibly fear… He took a small moment to gather himself as his jawline tensed and he politely removed himself from the larder with the clearing of this throat, "Apologies Lady Dragana…" His gaze turned on her, keeping only to her face as he remembers now she can see him; so no more appreciating her form as he once did, knowing it went unnoticed and unseen by her… "So, If you don't mind my query, master… How is it to see once more?" He leans himself against a countertop, being so tall nearly able to use it as a seat, and he crosses his arms about his chest… For the first time she may be able to take in the image his tattoo plays out across his torso, dancing around his wide shoulders, trailing about the toned biceps before finally tapering off around his forearms in quite a unique and intricate fashion. Clearly something representing nobility from his home land, but possibly a hint of a cover-up job as some of the pattern gets muddled in the area of his left peck - as if masking some sort of dark mark. Suddenly he realizes his indecency, "Apologies, again," He bows quickly, "I shall change then?" He pretty much asks permission, maybe she doesn't mind a man, no - a slave, in his loungewear (boxer-brief things).

Larewen :: It took a moment for the elf to answer as the seeing eye took in the intricate design of his tattoo. Her lips pressed together tightly in thought and after a moment she stepped around him and reached into a heated cabinet for a bottle of blood. "That might be in our best interest," she said after a moment, in regards to him donning clothes. A moment later, she reached for a stemmed glass that hung upside down from a rack beneath one of the upper cabinets. Opening the bottle, she poured the crimson fluid into the bowl of the glass before finally turning back toward Irenic. "It is a mixed experience, both joyful and heartrending, depending on who stands before me. And in this case, perhaps I made the best decision regarding distractions," she answered, stressing the latter part of her words pointedly.

Irenic would reach for a clean apron one of the cooks used while donning that devilishly handsome smirk in the time he tied it about his waist, "All better… Yes, master?" Bicolored eyes finding her own with humor, but he would go acquire more clothes if she protested, of course. He glanced down at her goblet and a the scarred brow quirks up, "Does that even satisfy you?" His low gruff tone questioned out of turn and he nearly held his breath, expecting to be chastised for being so forward. The word distractions hitting those elongated pointed ears a bit harshly, a fleeting glance to the floor and nearly bowing his head in shame. His mind fell on the woman he's been seeing in Cenril and how she's been a great distraction from his feelings towards Larewen. He plays daft, "Oh?... I don't catch your meaning, master." His stoic, drone-like expression returned.

Larewen curled her lips up into a sneer and raised the glass to her mouth. Sucking down the blood in a single, nearly unladylike gulp, her nose wrinkled and the glass was placed upon the counter. A moment later, she leaned back against it, her arms crossing loosely over her torso. "It sates my thirst, for the moment," she answered. It was a vague response, clearly a 'not really.' If she had the intention of chastising him, clearly now would not be the time. "It's a wonder you function at all," she murmured sarcastically and more to herself than to the avian.

Irenic scowled as he watched her painfully try and enjoy while he crossed his arms over his chest once more, apron adorned this time and lean upon the counter. His hair started to dry and was being pesky, falling unto his brow and all, silvering edges becoming more clear to show if his age as he was peering to the floor, "I don't understand… Why don't you just feed from me?" His gaze took a moment to connect this time in more of a curious manner, "I'm available, willing, and cannot be turned." A menacing chuckle gravels out his throat, the throat she's bit into before, skin tanned and slightly decorated from the spanning tattoo, tempting maybe, "I don't mean to offend, but I am certain you cannot drain me…" He was regarding their height difference, "And yes, it is a miraculous wonder how I function at all, must've taken someone a great to raise this." He stands once more motioning to his body, arrogant with a slow twirl, making sure to tuck those massive wings to his sides and not knock anything over. Larewen snorted, and it was followed with a bark of laughter as she reached for a silver case that sat upon the counter. It had been left there earlier in the day, no doubt. From within, she drew a cigarette and a breath of magic, a small burst of arcane energy, lit its tip as she inhaled the acrid burn of the smoke. She spoke on her exhale, "You're full of yourself. I'm sure you recall what occurred last time I fed from you, most inappropriate, don't you think?"

Irenic guffawed along with her and grinning all the while, cigarette smoke not phasing him just like her words. The confidence of this man couldn't be shook, even if he was undesirable to some he never cared. He's even openly said to a barmaid he's castrated to no avail, the guy knows he's a looker, but he owns it. "That may be." A softer chuckle to the response of her telling him he's full of himself, "I do recall, but I don't understand what that was… I also don't care what that was. You have my trust that wont happen again." He smooths his hair back with a shrug, "I'm just trying to help you out… Master." He took a daring step forward and he usually would have hesitated if it weren't for his damn confidence.

Larewen stiffened visibly as Irenic drew nearer, and the drag she took upon her cigarette this time was much, much longer. Reaching behind her, she tapped the ashes into the washbasin before returning her attention to the avian. With his nearness, came the scent of not only Emrith, but also Shishi, with the faint undertone of sun-warmed beach sand. She inhaled his scent sharply, her nostrils flaring as she sought to maintain control of herself. He smelled... delicious. Her tongue pressed against the tips of her fangs, not hard enough to puncture the membrane, but hard enough to draw her out of the stupor that threatened to take hold of her. "You're furthering my damnation," she whispered, quietly.

Irenic gained one more step tilting his head down to look at her now, "I'm even wearing a chef's apron." Again he's motioning to his torso area, "Dinner is served." That low chuckle flirts with his throat once more, unruly tendrils falling into view before his hands go up like he's surrendering, "You want to tie my hands back, too? Will that help?" That devious smirk returns, twisting up the scar spanning down his lips while his hands hold together behind his back causing those bicep muscles to exaggerate. Then there was a soft whisper from him, "I promise I won't tell, master." His expression turned impish while he tilted his head away to expose his neck and lean down towards her.

Larewen drew her lower lip into her mouth and pressed the tips of her fangs against the flesh, though not hard enough to pierce it. Her left hand curled into a tight fist, the pad of her thumb coming into contact with her engagement ring and reminding her precisely of what was acceptable and not acceptable at the moment. Again, she inhaled deeply while simultaneously tossing the remaining bit of her cigarette into the basin. To her, Irenic smelled utterly tempting: a perfect mix of Shishi and Emrith, and dear gods what she wouldn't do to taste his lips, to find out exactly how those two mingled together, if they had been one. Her eyes closed tightly as she fought an internal struggle and, in a way, she somewhat won while losing. She did not seek to snare his mouth in a kiss this time, but his proffered throat was an entirely different story. Her face pressed against the tender flesh, cold, unnecessary breath allowed to brush his skin as pointed teeth searched out that steady thrum of his jugular. When she found it, her arms encircled him and she bit down, eager to taste his blood.

Irenic wasn't being pushed away or told to leave her presence and in their moment of quiet his mind scrambles as to why he thought he had the guts to tempt her in such a way, what made him think this was a good idea? He was ready for a slap or punch from her at this point, but no, she gets closer, her cold skin, cold breath rose little bumps on that supple neck skin and when she bit down a guttural sigh of pleasure from the pain escapes him. He couldn't help it, if he stayed leaned over like he was he surely would buckle before her, so his hands defy him and gingerly picked her up and sat her on the counter behind her. It was easier for him not to fall all over her with his abnormal height and he forces his hands away from her to seek support on the cabinets above them, keeping quiet so she may enjoy the naturally hot blood, swimming with Avian power.

Larewen :: The elf was nearly oblivious to Irenic's lifting of her and placing her upon the counter, for she was too caught up in the heavenly rich taste of his blood. Just as before, his blood was sweet, like a summer wine. Her embrace tightened, pulling her to him, as she lapped up his blood hungrily. It didn't cross her mind how the pair might appear were someone to come into the kitchen; she was lost in her meal. One of her hands untangled from around him, raising upward instead to find the back of his neck, where pale fingers curled into his hair as she drank her fill. When her hunger was sated, and only then, she pulled her mouth away from his throat. Mismatched eyes met his, but did not quite focus; they looked through him, almost. Blood reddened her pale lips.

Irenic enjoyed every second in secret, his warm breath kept steady and it took all of his will power not to wrap his arms around her. He won that battle at least and he could care less how it looks because all someone might see is his massive ivory wings cornering them off in the kitchen. He shifted his arms from the sides of her head when she was done, keeping even with her eyes mismatched in kind as he wasn't scared to look away from her. He didn't want to sullen the mood by speaking and he gently took the corner of the apron he had on to dab the blood from her lips, only to realize it was jus the stain his blood left. It was like pulling magnets apart, but he eventually started to step away, this time hesitating.

Larewen was lost in the reverie, and appeared almost entirely unaware when he drew away from her. When he rose the cloth to wipe his blood away from her mouth, she made no attempt to draw away. Rather, her eyes met his, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. "One of these days, I might drain you dry. What will you do then, my bird?"

Irenic chuckled, low and short while gently caressing some hair from her face in allowing a pregnant pause in the conversation, "Well, Lady Dragana, my master… I will have served my purpose and if I am any worth to you then you would just have to raise me… Again." That devilishly handsome smirk returns as he finally took that step back from her and held out a hand on her good side so she may relieve herself from the countertop. "And I will enjoy every damning moment for it, gods help my soul," which was an ironic statement coming from the Avian as they warship no gods. Another chuckle as he realizes, "I am a messed up bird, aren't I? Every time I am near you I want you to bite me, or punish me because it's the only pleasure I can get." That devilish smirk remains as every word rang true without shame in it.

Larewen tilted her head slightly, and when her mismatched eyes fixed upon him, there was something different about them. Kinder, less cool than he'd interacted with prior. It was almost as if the elf were someone else. "Why did you let me mutilate you? Why, pray tell, do you swear your loyalty to me, when I've given you little to no reason to do so?" she asked softly, and her hand lifted, as if to touch his cheek, before falling back to her side. "I have ruined a beautiful creature, and you should hate me for that. Yet I fear you risk falling for me. That's not good for you, you know?"

Irenic didn't stray away, their matching eyes meeting one another. He wasn't surprised that her temperament shifted after a feeding as anyone would be grumpy if they were hungry. Those questions never failed as even other people asked him the same question, but it always is so simple to him, so obvious, "I choose you so your will is mine to serve." His face inched close to her hand when she reached and his hand that went avoided gently touched her elbow, but the moment was over and he also lowered his hand when she did. "You saved me. The power it had to take to do that is something that leaves me in wonderment, master. To serve you is all I know." His words rang true, but if she knew the true Edlin and how his memory serves, he hates vampires and the lack of those memories were necessary. He didn't seem worried about being mutilated in giving a shrug at such comment, "Maybe it makes me sadistic, but I like it, there is a thrill to it... And, again, it's all I know." The words he says are supposed to be sad, but that cocky smile contradicts everything he says, "I still get by, somehow." Only when she mentioned him falling for her caused him or avert their matching gaze to the fridge and a tenseness rose along his jawline. He was looking for something sweet, juice, to replace some of what she took, "I don't see how that would not be good for me.... I know my place or lack thereof." And only in that was a hint of sadness, but maybe he likes to have that torture as such.

Larewen :: A frown weighed her pale lips downward in lieu of his words and the elf shook her head, taking a step back from the avian. "I can't fathom what it must be like to think with such a mindset," she mused aloud, a soft sigh bereaving itself of bloodstained lips. Her brow furrowed and she finally turned away from Irenic. "Get some rest, and eat something to help replenish what I have taken from you."

Irenic does as he's told.