RP:Scent of Another

Summary: Larewen confuses her slave for Emrith.

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 swoops down from the skies as they were turning to dusk and tucks those marvelous ivory wings fold to his slender frame before attempting to smooth his wind blown hair back. In doing so only made the silvering spots in his hair stand out more, but he's never really worried about that and his other hand pulled the doors open to the house. Possibly, somewhere he was staying since his master is owner of this house and he feels welcome. His boots echo on the floor in grand strides from the Avian's abnormal height while he mumbled a small joke to himself - something along the lines of 'honey, I'm home.' He chuckles softly, again, to himself, that low gruff chuckle was probably heard better than his awful joke. He makes his way for the study as he finally found something to help him and he takes this item from a pocket, creaking the case open and lifting out a pair of… Spectacles, yeah, rather dull, but Irenic is no youngster and he's always needed aid to read. "Aha!" He said with amazement while sitting himself in a large chair and peering down at some random book with focus and intent causing a few of those dusky brown locks to pester his sight, but it didn't distract him…. He continues to read.

Larewen was not far behind Irenic, though her origin had been the kitchen. Careful steps guide her to the study, an obsidian, emerald jeweled goblet held within her hand. It smelled of blood, wine, and something a tad bit stronger. Upon moving to shoulder open the door as she often did, she found it to be open and that struck her as peculiar. A soft burst of magic left the necromancer's form, floating through the room and over his form. "Oh, Irenic," she greeted, her tone a bit off. Was she startled? Perhaps a bit, yes. She blinked a time or two, and then carefully skirted her way toward her desk. Her general appearance was disheveled: gone were the robes of elegance, and she was clad in a simple pair of black leather pants and an oversized red shirt - an unusual color for the one Shishi called Green. "How are you?"

Irenic claps the book shut and stands up to pass by Lady Dragana, gifting her with her favorite scent in doing so. He replaced that book and grabbed another after pushing his glasses up his nose, "Me?" He glanced up, finally, only to be stumped a moment by her attire… Smirking softly before the awkward silence was broken by his answer, "Oh, me, I am rather well… I found something to help me see words clearly, better for reading…" He actually stopped a moment and wondered why it was so important to him that he is able to read… Something of his past acquisitions? Like muscle memory. He looked around and found a quill, hopefully not one his master was about to use, and empty parchment, but he was stumped looking at it in his right hand because it just didn’t feel right. He tucks the new book under in his right arm and now the quill rests in his left, much better. He leans down and scribbles his name down, 'Edlin Corier' then scrambling the same letters to spell, 'Irenic Older'. "How are you, lady Dragana?" His tone had a hint of glee in it, able to see his master much more clearly felt like magic in itself.

Larewen stiffened when he drew close and as his very being exuded a painfully familiar scent, the glass fell from her hand. Wine and blood spilled over the dark, smooth surface of the floor and her jaw tensed. Anguish wrought itself across her features, turmoil came to life in the depth of those sightless eyes and she inhaled sharply. Knowing what Irenic was, knowing that it was her own innermost desires that formulated that smell, twisted her heart painfully: Irenic smelled of Emrith. When he spoke, she listened, and when his query was posed, her lips quivered for a moment, as if on the verge of inability to find words. Then, finally, a choked, "I am well." A pause followed as she tried to gather her composure, anger following suit as she inwardly reminded herself: she was getting married, she would be Shishi's wife once more, at the side of the man she belonged with. "What of you?"

Irenic let his expression gently fall at her reaction to him, something he couldn't help. He doesn't know why she acts this way every time he is close to her, but he meanders back to his seat while asking, "Is there something I can do to help that?" He assumes she wants blood, most vampires smell blood when they are close to him. He wouldn't mind it from her as he knows he cannot be turned and he was quite possibly way to large to drain of life all together. He sits at the chair, a fair distance now to free her from the scent Avian's emit. This Emrith person he has yet to meet, he will keep distance and watch him from afar, nothing as of yet to report. His gaze falls on the spilt beverage and his gaze narrows, he's always been a neat freak only this is now he doesn't remember how bad it used to be. This compulsion causes him to stand and find something to clean the mess with, shortly returning with a raggedy towel and he's close again, cleaning her mess for her… More for himself than anything.

Larewen exhaled a deeply relieved rush of air when he drew far enough away for the scent to vanish, but the moment was short lived. As he fetched a rag to clean the mess, the elf was already leaning down toward it. His sudden nearness brought with it Emrith's smell once more, and with little thought, a pale hand reached outward to seek Irenic's cheek. It was a movement born of autopilot and perhaps longing, guided by that smell... with no sight, smell had been the easiest way she'd learned to identify Emrith. Unless the avian pulled away, the necromancer would suddenly dip forward, seeking to snare his lips in a sudden, unexpected kiss that was filled with a sort of passion that only hatred, anger, and the most bitter love could hold - for that brief moment, Irenic's identity was lost.

Irenic allowed this to happen even though he didn't realize the why and at the moment he didn't even care, he is for her to do what she wishes. His lips would be warm, soft yet firm with passion and he does one thing that might break her concentration, he curls his wings to wrap around her. Those ivory wings also carried the scent - they are warm and inviting, but other than that he wouldn't make a move further, this was her game and not his. In his returning of her misguided kiss his eyes closed and he was glad that for once someone wasn't giving him a headache just from their presence and memories attempting to resurface. He of course would only break these actions if she wished it as he was expecting her to eventually feed off him like assumed before.

Larewen :: The warmth of his lips might have, under most circumstances, gave her pause. She knew Emrith was among the undead now, and when Irenic's wings curled around them, the warmth that encircled them still was not enough to draw her from her delusion. In part, there is the fact that the last embrace, the last kiss shared with Emrith were before she sired him. When Irenic failed to pull away, and in fact returned that passion, it only deepened the haze that had fallen over her. Cold, pale lips drew away from his mouth, brushing along his jawline in route to his throat. She could hear the steady beating of his heart, she could smell Emrith, and her tongue craved that familiar taste so badly that she nearly whimpered. Irenic was, undoubtedly, seeing Larewen at her most vulnerable.

Irenic didn’t mind any of the actions whatsoever, but in the back of his mind he knew this could only go so far due to her mutilation of him. He slowly stood up as his hands hold the bicep area of her arms with a soft grip while was kissing down his jawline and at this point his height could also, possibly, throw her off. One of his hands gently pushes its way up through her hair if she had reached his neck by this point and he felt the skin tingle with goose bumps. Heartbeat quickening while he felt the lips on his neck and a subtle sigh escaping his scarred lips pretty much asking her to feed from him.

Larewen :: The increase in that once steady cadence that signified his place among the living was a siren's temptation as the warmth of his breath fell across her. She rose with him, making no move to free herself as of yet from the embrace, nor did she show any signs of realization even as his hand curled into those dark tresses. The coldness of her lips parted as pearlescent fangs were exposed to drag across the soft, tender flesh of his neck. She sought the source of that hum of blood that moved through his veins and, drunk in his scent, pressed down against his skin with every intent of drawing blood; with every intent of drinking deeply from the avian.

Irenic let out a low and short moan at the feel of her teeth, still unaware of why this all happened in the first place and wont complain. He assumes he also won't be speaking of this event either while his hand gently pushed on her head while she feeds as he found it pleasurable. His head rests against hers while she feeds and his breathing became heavier, until something a bit more terrifying happens. He doesn't know why for a moment he felt terrified, but she may see in her mind's eye a flash of a memory from his childhood. Two feral vampires standing over his bed and the picture vanishes, unknown to him. He shrugs off the panic feeling, chalking it up to just a new experience.

Larewen was trapped in a world of eternal darkness, and for the moment lost in the rich nectar that was his blood. Avian blood was different in that regard, and while it should have been a sign that he was not, in fact Emrith, her nose still betrayed her. With sudden rudeness, the vision intruded upon her, a bright horror against the void that was her world. It started her, startled her to the point that she drew back suddenly, pulling her fangs from his throat and drawing away from his embrace. For the moment, it broke the enchantment that was his scent and the elf appeared utterly confused. A pale hand rose upward, fingertips grazing the blood that clung to her lips. For the second time, magic flooded the room, illuminating the avian and thrusting the necromancer into a rather awkward realization. She had not asked to feed of him, and gods, had she kissed... him? Her expression grew perplexed and she whispered, barely audible, "Sorry..."

Irenic quickly folded his massive wings back to his form and a hand raising to his neck wound with that low gruff chuckle, "Why are you sorry Lady Dragana?" He found the rag he was using to clean the wine and pressed a dry corner to his neck with a wince and the soft sucking of air through clenched teeth. He is completely unaware of anything she saw while feeding from him and he grinned softly, "I thought it was a bit fun so no concern there." Unless she admits she had gotten him confused with someone else he would have no idea that what happened actually had nothing to do with him. He took the specs off his nose and let them clink on the desk top. "If there is anything else I can help with, I'd be happy to." His voice low and soft, but not overly so, he knows she's to be married and he's nothing more than property.

Larewen shook her head faintly, pale tongue darting outward to sweep up the remaining drops of blood. She was a surprisingly clean eater, for someone who was blind. Tears stung at her eyes and moisture rimmed her lids. "I... It was not my intention to feed on you," she admitted, and there was something unsettling about her voice. Something was wrong, but the necromancer showed no signs of delving into it: her heart ached terribly. Curling her arms around her torso, her head tilted slightly, sightless eyes loosely focused in his direction. "Have you happened to see Trajek around?" A change of subject, quick and seemingly from nowhere.

Irenic smirked widely at her admission, "Oh… I apologize for getting in the way of your fangs, then…" Adding a bit quieter, "And lips for that matter." He chuckles again in his jest, but clears his throat after cutting it short, "Well, feel free to -accidently- feed from me anytime, Lady Dragana." He said her name slowly and darkly as if turning her name into something taboo. His eyes scanned over her state of being and how she seemed full of dread all of the sudden, "Something bothering you?" He said right when she asked about Trajek and he allowed an awkward pause. "No I haven't… Should I have been watching him as well?" He actually looked a bit worried that he may be shirking his responsibilities to her.

Larewen pressed her lips into a thin, embarrassed line, and for a moment the stolen blood flushed within her cheeks before fading away. There was no easy way to soothe the awkwardness she felt, and while part of her wished to explain, she was well aware of how it would look if she did so. The last thing she needed was for anyone to acknowledge exactly what had transpired. Her head shook a second time. "No, he cannot be associated with House Dragana. Emrith has told Hildegarde that I raised him, and I must now find a way to deal with the... the aftermath, so to speak. Tell no one that you saw us speaking at The Hanging Corpse."

Irenic watches his master blush and immediately apologizes while attempting to step a bit closer and comfort her, "I'm sorry… I was just trying to help." She is probably about the only person he doesn't feel the need to be a jerk towards and she didn't ever owe him an explanation, even if she provided one - who is he to judge. He listened to her speak of the obstacle she was facing and sighed in frustration at the news, "I see. I tell no one of your business. Only that I am your slave." He said with no hesitation and no regret. It seems he doesn't mind this lot he's been given… Then again she is all he knows.

Larewen heard him step nearer, and as a result, took a stumbling step backward. Her emotions were off kilter, and the last thing she needed presently was to smell Emrith again. His words furrowed her brow and a frown weighed her lips downward. "I'd rather not think of you as a slave. You've your own free will, you know," the necromancer suggested quietly, though her sightless eyes had moved past the avian. "You've done nothing wrong, dear heart. It is my own issues I must deal with. I need to go to Frostmaw. Margret and Sigmund will see to your needs if you choose to retire here tonight."

Irenic cleared his throat softly at her stumbling away from him and he takes a few steps back to give her the space she requires. He shrugged along with his casual tone, "I freely will to be your slave." He has a feeling of duty to her since she was the one who raised him to life again and the only thing he remembers was being very close to death… Then her - and that is all that matters now. "If you ever need help with these issues, tell me how and then it is done." He offers. On the subject of Frostmaw it seemed everyone was going there, "How do you plan on getting there?" He inquired as he knows that it's a bit of a trek to get there from Vailkrin if you are just walking or even riding a horse.

Larewen offered a faint smile in lieu of his words then lifted her shoulder. "By foot. I could use the fresh air," she said quietly. The time to think was a plus as well. Should I have use for you while I am there, I will send for you by post. Until then, feel free to take some time to relax, dear heart." As she spoke, she sent another burst of magic through the room to reorient herself so that she could ascend to her room for a green shirt, rather than the red one.

Irenic got the hint that she wanted to be alone, but he still offered, "Well, if you want to arrive faster just let me know if you want to be flown. Maybe bring something to block your nose." A short chuckle again as she departs from the room, and him moving from her away a bit further than usual. He wonders to himself if she would be afraid of heights and he slipped his glasses back on to continue reading if, indeed, she didn't wish to be flown to Frostmaw.

Larewen would not come back through to the study to bid the avian farewell, but instead, having found a shirt of the same type, only green, and donning a cape, took her leave.