RP:Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc

Part of the In Darkness We Trust Arc

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: While sipping at her wine and pondering future things with the darkness that roils within her mind, Larewen receives an unexpected visitor at the Corpse: Langley. Among the issues brought to the table this time around is Larewen's feelings for Emrith, Iintahquohae's wish, and Talene's ambitions. Oh, and talk of slaying dragons and joining guilds.

The Hanging Corpse

Larewen sits before the fireplace, sipping at a glass of wine and suckling on a cigarette. Her eyes are fixed on the flame, her left granted sight again by the mere presense of Langley's own within its socket. She is deep in thought, pondering things that she has not truly thought about in some time. In her head, she carries on a conversation with darkness incarnate, her sole reprieve being the coppery taste of the bloodwine. Before her, upon the table, lays a tome, opened to its center. Upon its pages, in the dark, brown ink of dried blood, is written sigils. Advanced necromancy, regarding the raising of things that ought not to be raised. Things that, if loosed from control, could wreak havoc on the world of the living.

Langley appeared as he often seemed to as of late, seemingly from nowhere as if born from the shadows themselves. Perhaps he had or perhaps he had been laying in wait in some darkened corner, just waiting for what seemed like the perfect moment to emerge and approach. Invitations were for lesser men, as far as he was concerned, and Langley had little time to waste with the novelty of the gentleman caller; politing requesting the company of a lady was best saved for romance, not the business of queens and succession. He took a seat adjacent and set upon Larewen's table a jar filled with some digusting-looking green ichor but it was not the liquid that was really of note. Within that jar also floated an eyes, its lens as green as the greenest emerald; a color many a fair lass would gladly kill to possess within their own fickle skulls. "House Nasar will have its successor, darling." Langley said with a smile, his hand clutching firm to the top of that jar.

Larewen lifts her chin, mismatched eyes falling first upon Langley as he adopts a chair for himself. Her jaw tightens, but she says naught of being interrupted. After all, Langley is, at present anyway, an ally and certainly one the elf intends to keep. She blinks and relaxes her mouth, a brow arching. "Is that so?" the elf inquires, her gaze lowering to the fluid filled jar to peer at the familiar emerald eye. There is a lust barely visible within the elf's eyes, for it is no small secret that she has a particular fancy for such a lovely verdant hue. "Talene?" The orb is familiar. "This is the price she's paid, I assume?" Her fingers are still fixed upon a corner of the current page her tome is opened to and if she wore glasses, she'd certainly be peering over the top of them at him. "A pleasant surprise, considering her presence when I spoke with Redhale the other day. He will not stand in our way, provided his own are not returned to their slavery. I suppose he finds it odd that I'd work with the undead." A click of her tongue follows. "Find out what he wants, will you? The creature does not thirst for power, an oddity among fallen kings." Her gaze is still fixed on the eye and a brief silence follows before she tilts her head toward it. "I want it."

"This and a few other things that I shall be keeping for myself." Langley replied, rolling the bottom of the jar around on the table; the eye within it spinning with the motion of the swirling liquid. "And if he has no intention of standing in our way then I do not much see why it matters. What makes you think I have anything to offer him if it is not power he covets?" Langley asked with a slight shrug. If this Redhale fellow had no intentions of standing in their way then Langley certainly felt no real inclination to bother with the creature and if the man did become a problem then surely two able necromancers such as them could handle it. "Should our paths cross, I will discuss the matter with him." Langley's gaze shifted downward to admire the eye, smiling softly at it. "This?" He chuckled as he lifted the jar so that the light could better illuminate the liquid. "I am afraid I cannot just give this to you. It is my fee for services. It has value to me. It is no mere pretty trinket. Oh, the things I could do with a well-perserved eye...but, if you are willing to pay, perhaps we can barter for it."

Silence lingers pregnantly in the air betwixt the two necromancers and Larewen's lips press into a thin line. "What does not matter, Langley, is your opinion on the subject. I do not fear Redhale, but I do have curiosities that are in need of being sated. Redhale was King alongside Kasyr. His loyalties may very well still remain to Frostmaw, and that could be a problem if it surfaces before our own forces are gathered. Emrith has once betrayed me already to Queen Hildegarde." The last few words are hissed and barely audible among the din of the Hanging Corpse. The scent of her lover does not cling to her this evening, and perhaps that has allowed her normal coldness to surface so clearly. Her gaze met his, briefly. "What else did you give Talene, for her eye?" As she speaks, she draws a cigarette from the air and presses it between her lips. A passing of shadows sees the tip lit. The elf drags deeply upon it, then exhales slowly. "And what is your price for her eye?"

"Emrith." Langley echoed, speaking that name with all the disdain that someone might use to describe festering garbage. He plucked the glasses from his face and folded the arms, tucking his lenses away in a pocket. His empty eye socket was a wide open hole in his head, the muscles seemingly unaware that nothing was held within. His brows furrowed as a sternness not often seen on his features formed across his face. "Do not presume that you rule me, Larewen. My contract to you states that I will ensure that you acsend the throne, not that I am some..." He gestured towards the door, out towards the city beyond. "Some underling to be commanded. I aid you because it is mutually beneficial for us to work together." A dull anger broiled deep in the pit of Langley's stomach, souring an otherwise pleasant mood. "Iintahquohae has sworn her loyalty to our cause because of me and with her, two of the opposing houses will fall. Talene has sworn her loyalty to our cause because of me and with her, a third opposing house shall crumble beneath us. I have been making deals to ensure that, when the day comes, we will have an army at our disposal. And what of you?" Langley fluttered his fingers towards Larwen. "What have you done to advance your own dreams of glory while you galavant around with this... Emrith... who only seeks to weaken you, to weaken your resolve." A fist slammed down on the table. "Your ill-begotten love for him denies you the truth of yourself, the strong magnificient woman that you could be. I saw her once. That darkness you hide... now her, that is a creature I would gladly follow into the night." The last question had been, for now, forgetten.

In those words, Langley reveals to the elf what wishes the two women have spoken. Thus Larewen is provided with knowledge that is worth her knowing. Where most might have faltered at the shots fired by the corrupted human, the necromancer does not. Instead, she continues to drag on her cigarette. Her lips quirk upward at their corners, an expression of gleeful malice stealing over her features. "Mutually beneficial, yes. You have seen that woman, Langley, and she is not someone you wish to cross. Your title and land within this city will mark you as one of my subjects, regardless. I will take the throne, regardless of your aid. I can either aid you and those you've made deals with, or I can side with the aristocracy against you and earn their favor instead. Remember that, when you spew your words at me, boy. Because that route will work in the favor of others. I much prefer our arrangement, but if need be, I will oppose it and involve Frostmaw." Most importantly, if she chose to stand against Langley, Iintahquohae, and Talene, if she chose to defend the current power structure within Vailkrin, she would find favor with Emrith, wiith HIldegarde, with those whose morals disgusted her. Larewen is, after all, a woman that will obtain what she wishes, no matter how far she must fall to take them.

"And there it is..." Langley chuckled as he stood, removing and casting aside his jacket. "That willingness to do whatever you must to obtain what you want. You know, it is what drew me to you in the first place. Your ambition is intoxicating even if your willingness to insult yourself by siding with lesser beings such as them is foolishly short-sighted." Langley began to unbutton his undershirt, calmly and slowly undoing each one until his torso was exposed. He could not recall the last time that he had revealed the extent of his augmentations to another person nor the last time that he had been given any reason at all to unleash even a fraction of what he really was beneath the flesh. The shirt slid away as he shrugged it off of his shoulders, slipping off and towards the ground. There were so many tattoos, so many scars; each forming a piece of the intricate profane symbology that he had made his body an altar to. "You speak harshly because you feel threatened, your ego wounded by my words. And perhaps... just maybe a bit of what I said is something you've been saying to yourself for days now. The thing about darkness is that it consumes. Light washes over a man so that he may bask in it's glow but darkness devours. It is a hungry beast and it does not like to be held at bay." Langley said as he lifted an arm and extended it towards her. The flesh of that arm bulged and rippled in places as if something writhed beneath, pushing against the skin for release. "The old blood, they lack our ambition, Larewen. The dead languish, forgotten and festering, under their rule. So I must say, I do not believe you when you say you would side with them. And Frostmaw, they will not allow you to sate your enthusiasms. You will acsend a throne earned by an alliance that demands you do nothing with it should you walk that path." The meat of Langley's shoulder split suddenly, black blood oozing forth as the soft tissues of the armpit soon followed suit; viscera spraying forth in a gorey cascade. Langley's face did not contort in pain though. "But perhaps it is time that I show you what giving in to your ambition earns you. Perhaps you need a reminder of why you so love the darkness..." Langley added, his tone that of a priest reverently preaching. From those lacerations and tears, there emerged a host of somethings that slithered their way up the length of his arm; black blood and green ichor coating their long wriggling forms. Those tendrils pushed forward, tearing the wounds further as more and more slid forth until the entirety of his arm were ensnared by their coiling and constricting shapes. "I urge you to remember who your friends are, Larewen. I urge you to remember who your real allies are, the people who truly want to see you succeed rather than allow you to surround yourself in people who demand from you weakness and stagnation."

The elf shakes her head, watching him. "No, not out of fear. To remind you that you need me, and that this will be much easier with my aid," she replies, matter-of-factly. Then, Langley is undressing and Larewen isn't sure what to make of him. Of course, her eyes are drinking him in. Every bit of what is revealed and as the tendrils break through his flesh, as that blood and ichor pollute the odors of the Hanging Corpse, the necromancer stiffens. Lust is visible in those mismatched eyes. Lust and hunger and thirst, yet the elf carefully restrains herself. "I know who my friends are, Langley. I also know better than to trust those with desires similar to my own. Now tell me, what is the price of the Nasar princess's eye?"

Langley slowly sat himself back down. Many eyes were likely upon him now, if not for his sudden and impromptu undressing then because his own flesh had rended itself open to reveal those tendrils that squirmed and wriggled about the arm that was now rested upon the table in front of him. One of those tentacles extended itself and coiled around his customery glass of brandy, lifting it to his lips so that he could sip upon it thoughtfully. When the glass lowered, Langley finally spoke again. "The finest carriage your money can buy, access to your house's dining room, and use of the finest chef your money can buy." It occurred to him that this was likely a strange request from a man whose deals and demands were normally spun to benefit his seemingly endless lust for dark power. "Take it or leave it. My next offer will be much less generous should you decline the first."

"What." It isn't so much a question as it a mere statement of surprise. Larewen leans back in her chair, only the mildest form of discomfort visible in her features as the movement irritates a hole in her sternum. "You're not even going to attempt extorting me for something more useful? What could you possibly need a..." Her lips quirk upward into a bemused smirk. "Are you feeling sweet on someone?" she asks even as she's reaching into shadows to withdraw a pouch of coins. It is tossed toward Langley. "Feel free to use the ballroom, too."

Another of Langley's tentacles rose to capture the coin purse in its coiling grasp if only so that he might show off the dexterity that those tendrils possessed. They were not for show, after all. "The eye is yours but I'll be taking the one that I lent you back. And as for your question, sweetheart... that'd be telling." He mimicked her smirk. "Can't have gossipy women ruining the surprise now, can I?" There was indeed someone who stirred within him some complicated emotions but that was a talk for another day.

Larewen doesn't push, though her amusement remains. Her interest is more so in that verdant eye than whose tail Langley may or may not be chasing. "Of course," she says a moment later, in lieu of his requirement of having his eye returned. Without flinching, the necromancer raises her right hand upward, scarred fingers curling at the edge of her orbital socket as she scoops the gray orb out. It releases with a suckling pop and the nerve that attaches it trails afterward. It grows taut and then ultimately snaps. "We have one other matter to discuss before this conversation is concluded," she says as she holds the eye out.

Langley accepted the eye with an outstretched hand, taking with as much of a calm ease as someone might accept a shaker of salt. He even held it up to the light and seemed to meticulously pick a few specks of dust off of it that, honestly, might not have actually even been there. "Oh, do tell." Langley chuckled as his hand lowered and he shoved that severred eye into the empty socket from whence it had once came. "I do hope it involves mayhem. Perhaps a bit of calamity might get you in a right proper frame of mind." Langley added as he blinked a few times, the eye rolling wildly in that socket as muscle fiber and nerve endings fused themselves back together.

A smirk teases the corner of the elf's lips upward in response to Langley's words. Larewen watches as he reattaches his eye to its orbital socket before she extends her hand for her own payment: that beautiful emerald eye. It's vanity, of course, that drives that desire. "It could certainly breed calamity, if you're interested in it," she remarks. "I cannot recall whether or not I have made you aware of this fact, but I am the mistress of the Necromancer's Guild. I am in need of those talented in the darker arts to aid me in furthering the knowledge of those less fortunate. Perhaps you would be interested in taking up a position within our ranks?"

Langley pushed the jar across the table with one hand as the other lowered and let a tentacle snake it's way along the floor, poking it's tip into the pocket of Langley's discarded jacket so that it might retrieve the glasses that he had tucked away there. They were brought back to his face and as they settled, those malevolent eyes of his shimmered with a sort of cruel enthusiasm. "The opportunity to forge young minds, to mold them towards my ways and methods? Ha! What could possibly go wrong?" Langley mused. "I will join this club of yours. If nothing else, it'll be a delightful diversion."

Larewen takes the jar and twists it open, tugging the preserved eye out of its fluids. With a single, swift movement she plops it into her empty socket and, like Langley, blinks several times. Her magic does the rest, and since Langley's player has already described that process, there's no sense in repeating it. Instead, like the classic evil villian in every cartoon, she steeples her fingers and smirks at the male. "Excellent... And there's one more thing." Now she's reaching into that shadow void once more and this time she retrieves a blackened skull. It is a rat's skull and emeralds are set within its eyes. They give off an eldritch glow. It is a device, it's purpose being to communicate. She doesn't have to explain that, though. Langley can probably read its magics and would find an entire network of skulls attached to it. Presently, two are in Trajek's possession, one in Goren's, one possibly in Laezila's, and one in Aerlithe's. A second one is drawn from the darkness and placed before Langley. "And that one is for Iintahquohae."

Oh, the things that Langley saw. Larewen perhaps knew that his eyes immediately deciphered the magical enchantments that these skulls carried but for someone like Langley, someone with eyes like Langley's... they were so much more than a fancy means of communication. He would keep that information to himself though for the time being and graciously accept both of those skills. His mind buzzed with knowledge. Trajek, Goren, Aerlithe, Larewen. Himself. Fascinating... "I will make good use of this, sweetheart."