RP:Turning Point

Part of the Welcome To The End of Eras Arc

Summary The unexpected return of Rumiko to Vailkrin Castle leads to an even more unexpected turn of events when she stumbles upon Kasyr mid-reflection in the shrine.

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Echoing Halls

The old suits of armor and coats of arms have been swept away, replaced with gargoyles carved in such a high level of detail that they look alive. They aren't poised on all fours prepared to leap from a high perch as they're typically depicted, but standing proudly upright, wings outstretched to reveal that they're gilt in gold and silver. Much like the most prominent rooms of the castle, the hallways' walls are high, ceilings arched. Lighting is sparse despite the stained glass windows lining the southern wall from floor to ceiling. There seems to be such a heavy emphasis on space here. Space for sound, specifically. Even your footsteps seem louder, more musical, than normal. The chanting one once heard from the west is long gone, replaced with a haunting, beautiful aria. Elaborate iron wall sconces holding unlit candles seem to vibrate with the sound emanating from the far end of the western hall. Where ornate double doors once stood to the room beyond, there is an archway heavily decorated with waves and swirls of golden filigree, and curiously, set with mauve stones. It's impossible to not be drawn in. An ornate mask wrought from gold with a pair of kunzite stones set in its eyes peers down at you.

Rumiko swayed on bare feet. Through the haze of magic, both persuasive and natural, she watched the bustling city around her in a near state of awe. Slow, uneven steps carried her down Hemlock as the same phrase repeated within her addled mind; 'Find safety. Go to sleep'. It was the command that kept her in motion towards Valkrin's castle, rather than getting lost in the sounds and colors of life (Un-life?) around her. Though it did not stop her gaze from wandering towards the more visually stimulating areas of the city, attention lingering on the way the lit candles caused broken glass to shimmer as if she were walking among the sky. It was one such instance that caused the nymph to bounce against a larger, harder body of a particularly disgruntled Undead male. The collision gave the woman pause for but a moment as the male turned to look down upon her. When he didn't immediately move from her path, Rumiko sidestepped the obstacle and continued on her way, paying little mind to the shout erupting from behind her and even less to the shove that seemed to hit particularly hard in the upper-left side of her abdomen. Still, she pressed on. 'Find safety. Go to sleep'. It was about the time of that collision that her magic seemed to recover, those less used druidic powers reaching out like invisible tentacles to steal what little energy and lifeforce it could as she moved through the city. Exhaustion hit her hard on the climb up the steps to the castle, and though it took her much longer than it should to make it to the top, she didn't stop to rest. 'Find safety. Go to sleep'. With her glamour back in place thanks to the power of Kanna's suggestion, it was easy enough for Rumiko to make her way into the castle without too much fanfare. As a known invited guest, she was allowed free passage into the deeper halls under the presumption that she would be heading towards her room. It was down the opposite hall she turned though, her path following the subtle notes of music emanating from the shrine to an Ascendi she never had the chance to meet. Why this particular destination had been chosen was unclear given the lack of connection Rumi had to the deity, but it was just outside the door she finally paused. A slow exhale came, ragged and damp, as her shoulders slumped forward as if she were going to curl inward on herself. In the enclosed hallway, the smell of Enchantment's mushroom forest filled the air, with undertones of Kanna's magic. Farther beneath the earthy scent that lingered on the Lyastri's skin, a sharper more metallic fragrance bloomed, and the source of it left a stain that almost blended in with the darkness of her attire.

Kasyr, despite his status as Daedria's chosen paladin, was not a frequent visitor to shrines' - his focus more often being a nigh obsessive focus on the stability of the continent, and by extension, the safety of her flock. Still, there are evenings where he can be found within- whether it was on the cusp of great battles, or moments when his certainty falters and he finds himself in need of a sign that the way forward is not a mistake. Evenings that were perhaps a little less rare, in recent times, given the state of the damned city. It's for this very reason that he hadn't been immediately alerted to the faes' state, his own evasive nature leaving the castles staff to search through offices in bedrooms for the infrequently travelled halls- whatever concerns they voiced falling on deaf ears, and only redoubling their efforts to find their apparently vacant king. That said, it's not the commotion that rouses the Kensai as he sits upon a bench staring up at edifice of his goddess- but rather, the subtle scent that creeps up his nose, and draws his attention towards the disconcerting trails that weave their way along the floor. Blood, drawn close by his own aberrant gift, first towards him, and then up in lazily floating droplets- a sanguine rain in reverse. In this place, it's an unexpected sight, to the point that he finds himself concluding his silent (and altogether one-sided) conversation, in favor of an impromptu investigation of the source, his footfalls taking him from the shrine and into the hall to see, "Rumiko?" He'd felt something familiar, someone- but, her sheer proximity to the door serves to distract- the simple morbid math of the situation failing to register for a moment. Momentarily, anyways, given he'd be unable to ignore the scent of fresh blood, or the manner in which beads of blood drifted up not from the hallway behind the dark Fae, but rather, from her. "You-? What-?"

Rumiko had no idea how long she'd stood there before the vampire met her in the hall. She had frozen in place the moment she arrived, and it was only when her name was called that usually vibrant- now dulled- green eyes rose from their place on the floor, where she'd been silently watching the blood creep into the shrine before her. Her expression was blank save for the barest twitch of her left eye, and it took longer than it should have for her attention to finally snap into place. "Kasyr." No title. Though most might think the lack of formality was a sign of disrespect, her tone was soft. And while it hadn't been an outward question, there was a slight inflection that made her sound almost unsure. She had thought of the shrine when the magic coerced her, what had changed? "It is... a little early in the year... to be so cold, no?" The nymphs gaze wandered over the blood droplets floating around them, and in the sparce lighting they almost seemed like crimson lightning bugs. They held her attention for but a moment longer before her lashes fluttered once, twice, a third time more, before they remained closed. Then she was falling. The second half of that command had been to sleep and apparently here in the middle of the hall, with the reverberation of the shrine's music, the reverse rain made up of her life blood and the vampire king, the first condition was met. Whether caught or left to crumble on the floor, it could easily be mistaken for the druid to have passed out from blood loss. Chances are she wasn't far from that anyhow.

Kasyrs' less focused on the lack of title, and more acutely on the countless tells that something was direly wrong. Her eyes lacked focus, her voice fragile and halting. And yet, it was the words that were perhaps the most uncanny part. Was it a matter of indifference, of being insensate due to shock- or was she truly unaware of the scent of iron that clung to her like a sickly sweet perfume. He's on the cusp of asking, of trying to further piece things together, when her legs finally buckle beneath her - forcing him to take action, one arm sweeping around her waist in order to halt her fall, before he then moves to pull her into the shrine proper, where he might find a place to - what? Find her a place to rest? He can already feel the tips of his fingers growing sticky, and with it, a dawning awareness that rest is apt to be the last thing she needs. A proper healer, or doctor was apt to be the proper response- but was it safe to move her, especially with the sort of reckless abandon that accompanied his motions? "What the hell happened, Rumi?" There's other questions there, but they're nigh-indecipherable murmurings in a different language, a flow of thought checklist of what needed to be done next. Really, the only discernable part in the whole might be the recurring mantra of 'Find the injury, address the wound'- sanguine slickened fingers seeking out the source so he can ascertain if it's within his means as a Paladin to attend to things. "Don't pass out." That statement is more apt to come out as an order, however concerned it may be, and a jarring prod meant to try and rouse her from whatever state she was trying to drift into.

Shrine to Daedria

Through the archway, the sound of the aria grows louder, and is accompanied by several harps playing in unison. It's as if you have stepped into the midst of a grand, domed ballroom, and while one cannot see dancing figures and your typical ball fare, it's certainly felt. The sensation of nimble weightlessness that accompanies dance, the grace and drama of it – It's in the air here. Ornate masks in various expressions emerge from the walls, and the walls themselves don't look solid at all. In fact, they look like unending falls of black water with shimmers of gold and pink raining down with it. It floods out onto the tiled floor, washes over your feet, yet they still feel dry. Ripples in the water imply the presence of others even if one stands within this holy space alone. A swirl of water implying the swish of someone's skirts as they're twirled, ripples that move in staccato with a partner, and all of this movement and music seems to emanate from the very center of the room. A round dais carved from obsidian emerges from the water, and upon it stands a obsidian statue that serves as an abstracted representation of Daedria. An elaborately decorated lyre strung with silver strings, carved in such a way that it looks to be suspended within the crash of waves that surrounds it. Silver filigree decorates the instrument's handles, spills out into the waves in delicate swirls. If one looks closely, small masks are hidden among the carving of waves, and their expressions seem to change on a whim.

Rumiko was a relatively petite creature on a normal day, standing a mere five foot tall with a singular added inch. Though her magic had started to return and had begun pulling at whatever shreds of life it could find, the amount of damage done over the course of her time in Enchantment was entirely too much for it to catch up on; she was too thin. Pulled into the shrine proper, the more condensed lighting would better show the malnutrition and dehydration that had overtaken her, leaving her eyes and cheeks hollower and adding years to an otherwise youthful face. The question earned little more than a furrowed brow as she struggled momentarily, her mind fighting against the spores that held her and the commands to both sleep and not. "Just.. tired." That was it, wasn't it? It had been a long day at the Summit in Enchantment, and she just needed to sleep to right herself. Right? Investigation of the blood-soaked area on her back would show a large hole in her shirt, under which lay the source of the bleeding. The torn fabric would be easy enough to pull away for further discovery, revealing a jagged tear in the flesh likely made by some sort of serrated or broken edged blade. The shredded skin was reddened in a wide halo, with slivers of black snaking their way from the deeper center in an outwards pattern as if the weapon had been coated in some sort of irritant or toxin. More worrisome still would be the depth in which the dagger had reached. The amount of blood the flowed freely would indicate more than simply flesh had been pierced, and if the still damp sound of her breathing was any indication, it was likely a lung and possibly more had been ruptured in the process. How she'd managed to make it all the way here in this condition was anyone's guess.

Kasyr may be a paladin, but there's a rather distinct problem - while he might be able to heal to some degree, he didn't exactly have the education or finesse to restore grievous internal organ damage, especially to the extent that Rumiko had endured, and that was without factoring in whatever had provoked cobwebs of blackened flesh around the wound. What he could do, was provide a stopgap, a prayer murmured so that she might receive a shock of vitality - something to hopefully rouse her from her stupor, and help ground her in the moment. "J'imagine. . . You look like a mess." He's trying to keep her talking, focused- even as he starts to go through the mental checklist of healers he knew, and then compare it to the list of people that had been effectively chosen to ostracize him in the wake of Larkets announcement, or other developments. "It doesn't look good." To the point that he briefly considers trying to tug upon a certain thread, a connection- just to see if he might be able to provoke a response, and an abrupt arrival. But he refrains, in part because he can only imagine the pang of discomfort it would provoke- but perhaps even moreso, because silence was the most likely answer, only further solidifying the sense of alienation. "At all." Some bleak part of him is aware of the obvious solution, but he turns his focus elsewhere, to the carving of the lyre- and the theatrical masks which adorn the wall. It had seemed obvious with Dami, too- and they'd spent years cursing him for not simply letting them die. "Sorry. I'd asked for your help, and-"

Rumiko had grown still during that prayer, the slightest touches of sleep dulling her senses all the more for the briefest of moments. Kanna hadn't specified how long the nymph needed to sleep, and between satisfying the second part of that persuasive magic and whatever suddenly caused a shockwave of alarm to set off every warning bell in her mind, she gasped. It was the pain she felt first, an all consuming burn that raked her back and caused a steady pounding in her head. Hand lashed out, not to attack but to latch onto whatever fabric was loose enough on the paladin's form in an instinctual need for comfort. The cry that escaped her was half strangled, the inability to take a full breath catching up to her now that she needed more than shallow pulls of air. If she heard the Kensai speak she didn't respond to it, instead the nymph's mouth moved in repeated motions with little voice to carry them past a silent chant. 'Make it stop, make it stop'. The struggle to move came next, a jerky motion to find some position to stop whatever was causing the pain. Green eyes opened wide, taking in the room around her first and then the vampire so close. "Please." The word was a croak-like sound, a plea though she wasn't sure exactly what she was asking for. For the first time, the empath would have completely unfiltered access to the nymphs emotions, should he seek them. Panic at the thought of dying, fear for the loss of her life, but no anger. No hatred. She did not blame him for her current predicament. As that prayed for spark of life started to fade, Rumiko's relaxed their grip and her breathing- though still ragged- seemed to slow. Let her die or risk her ire, Kasyr had a choice to make.

Kasyr flinched, less at the suddenness of the Fae's movement to cling to the beaten up trench coat he insisted on wearing, and more at the unguarded flood of emotions that follows. The lack of animosity only sharpens his own guilt, ready to paralyze him, were it not for the echo of that singular plea. "You won't like this." It's his warning, the last only one she really gets before he brings his own wrist up to his mouth and bites through the flesh with a surprising degree of savagery- blood smearing across his lips in a gory display, a preamble for what would come next. "Bite down. Drink, and you'll live, cherie." That was the path offered to her, alongside the shredded flesh of his wrist, which already was trying to heal from his morbid act of kindness. For his part, he only waits long enough to see if she'll latch onto the wound or not, before he cradles her that much closer, so that he can settle his teeth along her neck, and begin drinking deeply of her waning life.

If the woman could read minds, she would be glad that the gift of empathy was not her burden to bare. Further still, she might have swatted at him for that guilt he felt, followed by a verbal reminder that he had not been the one to slice into her flesh. Alas, mind reading was also not a gift she possessed baring the crafting of a mental link, and so she said and thought none of those things. What Rumiko did know, was whatever Kasyr promised she wouldn't like could not be worse than the pain she currently felt. Could it? Several heartbeats came and went as she stared at that mangled wrist, realization finally sinking in. The life-line he was throwing her was not one she had ever considered, though was she in any condition to contemplate the options? Not much by the rate in which the vampire's wrist was already healing. A final deep breath filled as much of her lungs as she could before her hand moved once more, this time to wrap around the appendage offered to her. She did not have fangs in which to re-pierce any mended skin, though the druid bit as hard as she could in an attempt to keep the rest open. It was as much of an agreement as she could offer in that moment.

Kasyr, couldn't have properly warned Rumiko even if he tried. Perhaps he could have shared what that piercing chill felt like as her blood was drained, or the acute emptiness that joined it, as bodily functions began to seize up. But the curse was a different beast entirely- an uncanny combination of not just Elazuls corruption, but of Khasads too, and it was the latter influence which was far purer. It's this aberrant essence that would ripple through the Fae, imbuing her form with a Darkness that had refined with time and tragedy - filling in the gaps of her damaged body, as she feeds off the kensai. That said, this act of restoration, of reconstruction, was unpredictable in and of itself- because while it had been gradual for some, others had found themselves subject to violent convulsions, as damaged musculature and misaligned bones were forcibly adjusted, new teeth forcing their way through with little care for those they were replacing. And worse, for someone of Rumikos' druidic nature- there might come a sense of defilement, as blighted energy tries to wind its way into her connection with the natural world, to wound or warp it in whatever way it can. And that was simply the beginning.

Rumiko's entire form started to shiver. Had she mentioned the cold earlier? The deathly chill that seeped through her veins in a slow, tortuous crawl now seemed so much worse in comparison. Subtle tremors gave way to near violent twitches as her body finally seemed to understand what the blood in her mouth and the fangs at her throat meant. How many times had she comforted the dying? How often had she given soothing sounds and soft promises of peace and painlessness? The nymph was a Gods-damned liar. The sear of her life draining faster pulled that panic back from the depths of her near comatose state, and the hand on Kasyr's arm tightened as the rational part of her mind fought to keep her from slipping away. If her thoughts weren't racing a mile a minute, she might feel bad for the damage her chattering teeth were doing to the wrist in her mouth. With as much of the blood that had seemed to flow out of her on the shamble down the hall, it wouldn't take long for the deed to be complete: the conclusion marked by the sudden giving out of her glamour to reveal the true nymph underneath, and her hand releasing its hold. The stark contrast of midnight hair and pale skin was made all the more drastic thanks to the loss of blood, and for a solitary moment she grew still once more. Even bloodied and broken as she was, the lack of expression on her features, lack of pain or fear, almost made her appear asleep. Peaceful. Almost. As much as one can look peaceful covered in two types of blood and a sickly black colored, tar-like substance, which had likely come from the dark webbing surrounding what had been a wound. A calm before the storm- a maelstrom that was quickly and quietly pouring down her throat and spreading over and into any nook and cranny it could find in a masterfully crafted design to take hold of its new host. There was a span of nothingness, as if the king of vampires had been too late in his mercy, before the heat began. There was a low groan of discomfort that broke her silence, the first signs of life. How long had it taken? She didn't know. Rumiko was unaware of anything beyond that burn starting in her throat, working is way down into her middle and then slowly radiating outwards. Then the real pain began. The nymphs body seized, back arching in such a way that one might think it would snap in two. Kasyr would either have to hold her tighter or find a clear space on the floor to allow her to thrash around as her insides twisted. Crimson eyes opened wide, seeing nothing as a soundless scream erupted from her chest. The druid couldn't tell where the worst of the pain emanated; the savage scar slowly knitting together at her back, the pressure in her face as eye teeth were forcibly loosened and eventually pushed out by sharpened replacements or that ever growing blaze from the pit of her stomach. Was it not the lycanthropes that burned with that unnatural warmth? That would be the question she had, if her brain didn't feel as if it were being torn asunder. Fingers curled inward, pressing rounded nails into her palms as another convulsion shook her lithe frame. Any flora within range of the druid would suddenly start to wilt, their vibrance sucked from them with such force that it would leave them dry and withered, as if they'd not been watered in weeks. Could she cry? Rumiko felt as if she were, but despite the rearranging of her teeth finally coming to an end, she still couldn't feel anything past the throbbing ache. She had no way of know for how long she twisted and turned, convulsed and silently screamed before the pain started to lessen. And even then, one part remained. That burning sensation that ran from the tip of her tongue, down her throat to gnaw at the walls of her stomach. It was an unsettling consequence of their choice tonight, of Kasyr's guilt, his drive to rescue her from what he felt was his doing and Rumiko's unwillingness to die without a fight. It was the first touches of a hunger unlike she had ever known, and would likely struggle to control, at least for a time. Eventually she calmed further, and though she remained still other than a random twitch, there was another deep and ragged breath taken as if she still needed the air. For the moment, it was the only real sign she hadn't fully succumbed to the embrace of true death.

Kasyr retained his hold upon her- his mangled wrist held to her lips even a as cold stillness finished asserting itself, and her body slackened within his grasp. It was only when he felt her emotions finally give way to an exhausted oblivion, teetering on the brink of annihilation - that he finally draws away from her neck. Waiting. Watching. For that moment where a spark of consciousness reignited itself, hunger and agony asserting itself in a primal pantomime of life. He did not have to wait long. With that first feral jolt, he only tightens the arm he'd looped around her, intent on reducing the harm she might wreak on herself, and perhaps offer a lackluster reassurance. The severity of the change was always a gamble, to some degree- an unpredictability borne of his aberrant nature, which now expressed itself in full force. A reminder, no doubt, of the absence of the other coterie members- for there was noone else present to provide a first meal, or to help reassure the newly turned fae. She only had him, within the emptiness of Daedrias' shrine- and the sound of her suffering, of her pained convulsions, amplified by the rooms acoustics. "It'll be alright, cherie. Just, focus. Just- " But would it be alright? That ravening hunger was already bubbling up beneath the surface, and with it- a reminder of how little he'd prepared for this moment. He takes a breath, unnecessary, save for the reminder to center himself, "You're okay, madamoiselle." A pause, "You're still here." Internally, he was still trying to sort out the situation, to sift through what she needed to know, what had to be done- but it was hard to ignore the most pressing need in that moment, "We need to get you something to feed on." But that was purely mechanistic, wasn't it? Remembering himself, he finally eases the hold he had on her- allowing her the luxury of leaning back against the bench they'd been seated on, though retaining a wary eye lest hunger or panic lapse into a panicked bolt for the exit. As distasteful as the thought may be, an order rested on the tip of his tongue- a small bit of insurance in case some latent ferality crept up while she was so vulnerable.

Rumiko remained still even as she was released to sit more proper upon the bench. It didn't take long for her shoulders to start trembling once more, though it was unclear whether the motion was due to the cold she still felt, the aches that still waved over her like a tide, or her struggle to remain seated. Red eyes wandered over the decor of the shrine in slow sweeping glances, her sharper sight taking in more detail than she'd ever noticed before. Her own unnecessary breathing picked back up, starting slow and steady for one, two breaths before that rising panic started tremors of a different kind. She had died, and yet lived. The haze of the before was still something she struggled with, the only memories she had the ability to immediately recall being his words. 'It doesn't look good.' What had happened? How had she gotten to this point? Confusion entangled with that panic for being unable to remember. Uncertainty was one of the nymphs core issues, and the turning didn't seem to ease that burden. Labored breathing picked up more as the nymph pushed herself to a stand, her fight or flight at war with one another as she swallowed hard against a raising feeling in her throat. Again her attention turned to the room surrounding them, the woman trying to find something, anything to ground her in the moment so she might be able to think cohesive thoughts to try and piece together everything she felt, every question she had, and more importantly to try to identify the sudden and consuming need for a drink. Just as the desire to flee rose to its peak, crimson eyes finally found Kasyr as he sat trying to sort out the same situation as she. But there was something about the way he looked that gave her pause. The Kensai looked as he always did, though the blood smeared across the lower half of his face made her take stock of herself. Fingers tapped against themselves as she counted each silently whilst her gaze lowered to the torn and unkempt state of her attire. Despite it all, there was the briefest flood of embarrassment. She really was a mess. With her gaze falling to bare feet- when had she lost her shoes?- her breathing slowed as she followed the trail of her blood down the hallway. Despite the fact that it was her own, the sight of it only seemed to enflame that hunger all the more. But it was a noise at the opposite end of the hall that really drew her attention, head snapping upwards in a very animalistic motion. A slow shift in her stance was all the warning that would come before the nymph was pushing forward to follow the sound. Were any of the castle staff mortal? The bigger question at this point might be, would it matter?

Kasyr may not know the exact thoughts which accompany Rumiko's current feelings, but he'd been walked that same path- thrust into that existence in much the same manner and circumstances, albeit with an even greater lack of care. As she rises to her feet, much in the same way as her mounting panic, the swordsman can only offer her a sympathetic look. Adjusting to a world brought into a different sort of clarity wasn't easy, and it would only get worse once she was introduced to someone other than him. Especially given the manner in which her feelings began to hone themselves- to focus on a singular insatiable sentiment. He wouldn't have been surprised if the gaze that finally leveled on him had looked unhinged, and yet- recognition was what greeted him, an awkward sort of scrutiny that left him drawing his own blood smeared fingertips to his face, a futile effort made to clear away the macabre residue. "So- " He falters now, uncertain of where to go from there. She'd been tossed to the proverbial wolves (however unintentionally) due to the help she'd offered, the trust she'd extended, without any sort of reservation or hidden strings. "So," He tries again, his tongue pressing against the rough of his mouth, "How are you feeling?" But the words hit deaf ears, don't they? Her attention had already flicked to the halls with the sort of sharpness of a predator tracking prey, no doubt having heard the sound of a house servant or good meandering the halls in the wake of the bloodshed. It's in this moment that certainty finally enters his voice, the innate authority that he could wield as her sire, reverberating through the room with an unintended severity, "Stop. Stay put." There's an awkward pause, a discomfort that accompanied the unexpected necessity before he continues, "Not here, d'accord?" He could imagine the yawning hunger stirring inside her, the torturous ache- but, he could not allow her to simply rampage- whether for others' sake, or even her own, given how new she was. His attention flicks inwards, trusting that either his words or the authority contained within had served their purpose- leaving him free to begin skimming through his mind for an adequate source. While there were certainly ways to feed without killing the prey, he wouldn't trust any of them to the Fae- which was a problem, given the current political climate of the continent, and the overall apprehension towards the dark city. Trist'oth and it's caverns were, traditionally a ripe hunting ground, given the slavers - but that had largely dried up in recent times. Bandit camps weren't quite as prevalent, either- troop movements having driven them further abroad, and deeper underground. Still, there was a place where no shortage of individuals slated to die yet remained. Prisons. Sifting through his own, however, would be a problem- given it would require finding a living individual, and one that wasn't potentially needed for some future scheme. That said- hadn't an allegiance been cemented? Why not make use of that Larketian connection. "If you can control yourself for a few minutes, I can get you something to eat."

Rumiko had barely settled her foot on the floor when the command came, and she could do little more than snarl for the sudden betrayal of her body. She wanted to run. She wanted to find the thing that dared to draw so near to her, to hunt it down and devour it. The Fae could almost taste the stolen feast as she was locked in place by three simple words, though it could simply be the remainder from Kasyr's wrist that teased her tastebuds. Newly minted fangs were presented as her upper lip curled back in aggravation, her head twisting to eye her sire when those softer words came. Not here. Had that been an order too? The sound that escaped her then was almost mournful, and crimson eyes held indignation as she began a futile struggle against the invisible bonds that held her. But there was more too. Similar to the plea for help that led them down this road, there it was again hiding under that misplaced ire. It took a moment, a long one, for that snarl on her face to finally subside. There was still a discomfort, a need to sink her fangs into someone, something to quench that burning hunger. A slow inhale and exhale came, a mortal expression meant to show she was trying to soothe herself and calm down. There was still no vocalization beyond those grunts and growls, but it seemed she was trying.

Kasyr can't help but be grateful that she heeded that command readily enough. Begrudgingly, perhaps- but, it would do. That said, while Rumiko was at least accounted for in the smaller scheme of things, there was still the rest of the castles staff to plan around - especially given that the faes current state existence would be the source of no small amount of rumors were it sussed out too soon. It's with this in mind that the swordsman steps into the hall, one hand extending forward as though reaching towards some unseen object, only to clench and pull back. The motion is a beckoning, in all truth, all the spilled blood that had been left in Rumikos' wake converging into a red stream that threads it's wake along the castle carpets, accumulating in a pool that lingers near the swordsman's feet. A display yet unfinished, given the manner in which Kasyrs hands drift down- forcing the tainted substance between whatever minute cracks it can find in the castles floor and down to the basement. Let it be someone else's horror story- a dire little rumor they can latch onto as a distraction. However that panned out, it was hardly the swordsman's concern, his attention instead focusing back to the room. Specifically, he chooses a suitably spacious spot within the shrine, before plucking a scalpel out from the sleeve of his jacket, and jabbing it into thin air- a seemingly meaningless action, save for the distortion in the air that accompanies it, as the sights, sounds and smells of another city transpose themselves upon the narrow fissure opening up before the pair. "You'll need to hold your appetite for a few moments longer, and then we'll be there, je vous promets."

Quintessa moves silent as a spector, a black-clad ghost that haunted the halls of the Vailkrin capital occasionally, whenever she was permitted to. Raven hair hangs lazily over her left eye as she wanders and drifts from one corner of the castle to another, eventually finding herself standing in front of the threshold to the Shine to Daedria. Here Quintessa lingers, feeling the bardic magic in her heart stir in proximity to the shine. A small smile, bittersweet and fragile, tugs at her lips as an idle tune raises in her throat to become a lovely hum, a dark and otherworldly tone that announces her approach, announcing the arrival of Black Witch of Vailkrin. Quintessa’s shadowed form steps from the umbra, her hum becoming a simple song with simple words. “Everything stays… right where you left it. Everything stays… but it still changes…” What would Quintessa find when she entered the Shine proper? Would this development complicate her plans?

Rumiko was of a singular mind at the moment. Despite the almost calm exterior, she was a tornado of predator instincts and savage hunger wrapped in that small body. Crimson eyes tracked the revenants motions as he moved to clean the hallway of her mess- though clean was not really the right word though, was it? It was a handy trick either way, though the nymph would ponder more on that later. The sudden shift in the air was what finally caused her to speak, her voice hoarse from the screaming or the need she felt, she wasn't really sure which. "Where are we going?" There was the smallest of lilt to her words as she spoke around fangs for the first time, and another shudder went through her spine as she looked to where bare feet were still planted on the floor. If she were more herself, she might care that she was a mess in torn clothing and splattered in their blood. Quintessa's entrance to the castle is noticed before the woman made her way to the archway, and once more the nymphs head would whip towards that soft humming. It would be a lie to say the fledgling didn't attempt the stalk towards that sound of life, though even if she was able to move it wouldn't take long for the changeling to reveal herself. She would be met first with a blood covered Rumiko, and despite the friendship that had blossomed between the dark fae, the smile curving Rumiko's lips as her eyes found the slender column of the others throat was not kind.

Kasyr glanced away from the rift he'd created in the world, running the scalpel along its outline as though he were probing for some instability- some flaw his distracted mind might have allowed for. "Larket. I'm going to put that messy incident to use." And really, he would have been all to keen to lead the way- were it not for the revelation of who had been proximal to that hall in the first place. "Calice." Whether it was the humming, or the simple sense of familiarity, Kasyr finally bothers to wipe the gore from his fingers onto his coat, the blood on his face swept off to the side in a still-futile effort so he might pretend at presentability. That said, Tessa would have to be blind not to notice the calamity of crimson that coated the pair- the most blatant sign of the issue, though, a more subtler one existed in the array of wilted floral offerings, every vase having been reduced to withered stems and drifting dust. The swordsman pauses, still unsure whether or not to maintain the rift- before he finally relinquishes it with a sigh, his attention fully snapping to the pair, and especially his altogether voracious fledgeling, "Don't." Better to address this as quickly as he can, so he can actually get past whatever accusation was potentially bubbling up. Which is to say, Quintessas' given something of a wry expression, "I found Rumi. or rather, she found me. Half-dead, et likely frightening the house staff, given her status as guest." A pause, and then he curtly adds, "This was preferable to dying, to her." Perhaps he might be more cordial in a different circumstance, but, Rumiko's hunger was hard to ignore, and there was something in that bestial appetite that was almost tempting. The simplicity of slaughter, rather than the complex solutions he sought out. "You can come along, if you'd like. We're going to Larket."

Quintessa finds her smile shifting into a smirk when she sees Rumiko covered in blood and tattered clothing, her voice ringing out in eerie laughter that carries the bardic magic from the beginning of her song. Did the former fae know about Quintessa? That she is quite the expert on undead, especially vampires, so it isn’t lost on her when she sees her friend, someone she regarded as a cousin no less, approach her as a twisted, cursed, corrupted form of her past self, a newly turned vampire. Growing up in Vailkrin, Quintessa had no fear of them, especially the many volatile fledgelings that came and went like leaves in the autumn wind. Only amusement filled her mind, that and little disappointment that she didn’t get to witness the process herself. Needless to say, it isn’t lost on her when Rumiko stalks her, eyes glued on her throat where her lovely sanguine blood flows freely, smelling like swamp mud but empowered by fae magic. “Oh, hello, Cousin,” Quintessa says in jest, pretending to be ignorant of Rumiko’s current status, “You look… thirsty.” The changeling gives Rumiko a grin of all sharp teeth, a dangerous luster in her mismatched eyes that she had never looked at the former nymph with before. Slowly she tilts her head, showing off more of her slender neck, tempting her. “Perhaps I should allow you to indulge? Or will my curse pull you in, turn you into my thrall next? Wouldn’t that be interesting…” Mismatched eyes now flicker to Kasyr, where they harden just slightly at what Quintessa has assumed is a gross attempt to expand his power in Vailkrin. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Her grin fades, turning into a frown. “And when will it be my turn?” But she doesn’t wait for an answer, her attention is now shifted to Larket, a worthy distraction that causes her to hide her neck from Rumiko again. “Larket?” She gazes back at Rumi, her smile returning. “I see. I probably shouldn’t but… How can I resist?”

Rumiko was not trying to intimidate. She had but one desire, one need that demanded to be sated. It was very likely she would dislike herself in times ahead for the willingness for which she could sink her fangs into the changelings throat. That is, until that command hit her once more. The nymph snarled, and again her head whiped around to face Kasyr, sending midnight hair flaring outward with the motion and possibly slinging more gore around the room. "That." The singular word was all that was offered, the expression on her face likely making it clear enough what the meaning was. She didn't like that power he had over her, even if she would eventually be glad for it. Nostrils flare as something in the air catches her attention anew, and her gaze locks on the space where that rift had been made. Larket. She had been there before, though she couldn't in the moment remember the why of it. Another groan escaped the nymph, and she was flexing and curling her fingers as she shifted her gaze from the rift, to Quintessa and then back to Kasyr. There would be time for explanations later.

Larket Sheriff's Office

Kasyr pinches at his nose while Tessa decides to do what she does best, and provoke. To the point that when she turns a somewhat accusatory gaze at the Kensai, all she gets is an exhausted one in return. Rumikos' feral response, however, begets something closer to curiosity, before his attention drifts back towards the wavering tear, once more catches its edge with the scalpel. "We can talk about it later, if you'd like. Banter when we resume your training." His wrist flicks up and down the rift widened by a significant margin, all so he can step through, and take an inviting bow- heedless of the small uproar behind him. After all, where he'd opened the rift wasn't simply a location within Larket, but rather- within the lobby of their sheriffs office, and the sight of a blood smeared Kensai intruding upon this place is a dreadful one. In that moment, those present were likely questioning just how strong the allegiance between Vailkrin & Larket was- and the almost singsong way that Kasyr would tell (order) Rumiko, "Not these ones." was an extremely cold comfort. Still, there's at least a small number of them that are some combination of brave, loyal, indoctrinated, or simply foolish- who manage to draw closer. Among their number, its a female soldier who manages to draw close enough to pose that all important question, "And...what is your business?" Proximal as she is, she can't even maintain a facade of authority, nor confidence.

Quintessa perhaps feels she deserves the exhausted look Kasyr gives her, so she decides she should hold back a little more in the future, a smirk still playing at the corner of her mouth. She peels her gaze away from Rumiko back to Kasyr, moving closer to join him. “Oh yes, we will certainly talk about this- but all that can wait.” The seriousness of the situation was quickly beginning to sink in now that she had her fun, but before she steps through the portal Quintessa takes a page from Rumiko’s book and snaps her fingers, producing a simple glamour that hid her identity from the Larketian authority, appearing as an elven vampire with golden hair and silver eyes. Even disguised, Quintessa pulls up the hood of her cloak as she clings to Kasyr’s side like a helpless servant, keeping extra attention on the nearly feral vampire fledgeling also in their party. For now she simply follows Kasyr’s lead, mostly to bear witness to what was going to happen next rather than directly partake.

Rumiko offered the pair a glance, and if there was a curiosity to their dynamic, it didn't show on her face. She remained quiet as she followed suit, making her way carefully through that slit in reality. Those that had not been brave enough to step forward when the swordsman stepped through the rift, were suddenly found going the opposite direction when the nymph made her way through. She couldn't blame them, not really. Though the wounds and internal bits had been mended, the nymph was still obviously malnourished. It showed in the hollowness of her cheeks and eyes, the sharpness of her features and the bits of her arms that showed beneath the blood-soaked clothes. That was an issue she hoped they were here to correct, though her worry was currently less on how she looked and more on that discomfort turned pain that was changing the usually quiet demeanor of the druid. Once druid? She didn't know what she was anymore beyond hungry. The command offered was not a surprising one, though it didn't stop the look and casual- albeit sudden- step closer she took towards one of the burlier officers.

Kasyr casts a glance back towards the fae, though he remains in place- seemingly intent on fielding the jailors questions, "I'm here for a prisoner. Non-Larketian." If the swordsmans' sudden appearance had set off an alarm in the minds of those present, this may as well have been a chorus of trumpets, a cascade of conflicting emotions filling the air. Fear, suspicion, a sense of betrayal and anger- though small hints of curiosity linger too. Was this a betrayal, courtesy of how poorly the summit went, or some opportunistic bid to be on the winning side of the war? Was this even the Kensai- The female soldier actually starts to feel a touch bolder, and directs her attention towards one of her colleagues, "Ferran, could you- see if Azakhaer is slated to be in today? Or if there's a way to confirm his identity?" There's a wariness there that only seems to spike up as the soldier designated as 'Ferran' steps over to a log book at the desk, and calls over, "Not as such, not in any recent weeks forward or back, even, Tomalie!" And again, the emotions present change, some still retaining a semblance of fear due to abrupt appearance of the interlopers, but not Tomalie, no. She'd seen enough rescue attempts that she feels she knows better, suspicion and smug satisfaction mingling together as she shifts into a more aggressive posture. "I think you should slow down, and start from the beginning, while we reach out to confirm your story." Off-handedly, she makes a faint gesture to her colleagues, a manual cue to begin spreading out in preperation to detain the trio. She's even starting to feel a bit confident, until a tarry darkness begins to pool out from the Kensais feet. Really, it could have been mistaken for his shadow at first- but the moment one of the guards make their advance, it spreads at an explosive speed, coating the floor and then climbing up the walls, the space neatly isolated from the outside wall, and the halls - the guards forms then lifted up in coils of raw dark energy. Whatever assurance Tomalie may have started to feel in her decision instantly evaporates, especially at the sound of metal breaking - as some anti-magic imbued item strives to suppress the revenants order, and sunders itself instead. "Let me iterate. I need a prisoner, non-Larketian. Preferably one, or even two, whose lifespan you don't mind reducing to the next five minutes." There's a faint clatter as the darkness retracts to the swordsman just as quickly as it had manifested, having achieved the palpable sense of terror he'd set out to instill. Soldiers, formerly restrained by darkness drop to the floor, some managing to retain their footing, while others collapse under the distinct awareness they could have all died. A notion that grows all the more distinct as they take in the sight of the blood-smeared fae, and the way she seemed to be sizing them or Quintessa, who seemed absolutely at home in the midst of this chaos. Tomalie opens her mouth one last time, as though to protest, before she turns on her heel and offers a quavering, "Th-this way, your Liege." Gotta give it to the world, she's keeping it relatively together.

Quintessa might have already been searching for the anti-magic artifacts she was aware some of the officers held onto, so when the Kensai’s own divine forces sunders one under the pressure of the rising magic in the room, she smiles in grim satisfaction. With the device gone Quintessa is free to cast whatever spell she wishes, a pale hand subtly reaching up in preparation to cast a charm spell on Tomalie, but she never actually needs to. Her hand lowers harmlessly, but her silvery eyes explore the room carefully, taking note of the number of soilers here. The changeling had already decided on her own that her job tonight would be damage control, eliminating any witnesses should this surprise visit become a bloodbath. After all the smearing going on in the papers the last thing Quintessa wanted to give the reporters was a juicy betrayal story, so it is with trepidation that the young woman follows after, not with the eager, bloodthirsty attitude that had stuck with her for much of her childhood. She is calm and cautious, but underneath all of that is the resolve to kill every single bystander no matter how innocent that they might be. Quintessa can only hope that it doesn’t come down to that, but she understands more than most the volatile nature of their current situation, of Rumiko’s volatile nature specifically. Following after, the changeling leans over to whisper something to Kasyr, her voice magically distorted so that only he could understand. “No witches,” is all she requests from him, the words coming out like the wind whistling through the trees of the Dark Forest. She had her own agenda when it came to the prisoners of Larket and letting her potential recruits get sucked dry was not part of it.

Rumiko was fixated on the sounds and scents of the office around them. The beating hearts, the various breathing patterns and the constant shuffle of boots on the floor played rhythmically in the fledglings pointed ears. Each new sound drew her crimson eyes, and the scent of those notes of fear and uncertainty only prodded at that instinctual need to chase, to capture, to feed. The nymph was so engrossed in the little game of 'who looked the tastiest' that she missed a majority of the conversation between the lead officer and her sire, and the sudden flare of Kasyr's energy sends her ducking- though not far. Her attention swiftly changes towards the floating guards, and despite the hunger and aggravation she had exhibited up to this point, Rumi offers a small smile. Humor didn't carry the when the face was covered in gore, and later she might be grateful that she had that glamour to hide behind for future outings. Mention of shortening a lifespan or two was not lost to her in the cacophony of sounds, and it was then her attention turned fully towards the swordsman. He had promised, or so she assumed that's what he'd meant, and so as they were shown down the hall towards what would be the nymphs first meal, there was a moment where she almost seemed herself, albeit coated in mess still. A casual look was offered towards Quintessa for the mumbled request, before red eyes turned towards a new game. Eenie meanie miney moe...

Kasyr , internally, can't help but breath a sigh of relief, if only because he's asofar adhered to both the letter -and- spirit of his oath to Macon. Which is in stark contrast to his outward appearance, where his gaze is fixed ahead- likely giving Tomalie the unpleasent sensation of being sized up. Even when Quintessa leans in to murmur something in hushed tones, his attention doesn't waver, which definitely plays a part in the lead soldier doing her utmost to shift Kasyrs' attention to anyone else, "W-well. Uh. That's somewhat specific, but- There are some Wit-" Because they -would- be the first things a Larketian would try to offload in this situation, since it would allow Larket deniability, and remove their taint from the prison. Only,"Their cursed nature would not sit well with a younger vampire." Between the heat of those hissed words, the Larketians own prejudices, and the slight exertion of magical pressure - Tomalie abruptly stops, only to instead whir towards a different area in the office, and tentatively murmur, "Cenrili soldiers-?" Because that would be the second most obvious choice, wouldn't it? While traditionally there would be a number of soldiers held within camps or militrary prisons, for use as potential bargaining chips, there would be the occasional contractor, or roving soldier that might find their ways into larkets hands. And without any discernible way to verify what unit they were a part of- they had found their way here. Perhaps, faced with this choice, the Kensai might feel some faint degree of guilt- but he does an admirable job of keeping it out of his voice, the only tell being a simple flex and clench of his right hand. "That will do." And it would have to be all of them, wouldn't it, just to attend to witnesses? That was always the problem, in these circumstances. At least there wasn't too many here, a mere smattering kept in their own corner of the jail, likely to avoid them consorting with any other problematic elements, and to ensure retrieving them would be more difficult. The first of the cells is a ragged elf, their feet manacled to the floor on a length of chain a few feet long- a food tray off to the side. It's only then that Kasyr turns a side-eye to Rumiko, his head then inclining towards the cell now being opened. "Bonne appetit." The panicked cry from the man within is a more than ample sign he's caught on to the inference. Towards Quintessa, he finally adds- and at a tone that can be overheard by the guard, "That said, while unsuitable for a fledgeling- perhaps we should speak to Macon for my own stocks."

Quintessa looks back at Rumiko just in time to catch her gaze before the newborn vampire begins to search for a target, an apathetic, almost clinical aura seizing the changeling’s attitude. This was now an experiment to her, a rare observation into those precious new moments of a fledgling vampire’s existence. These would be amazing notes for her research into undead physiology and psychology. “Describe to me how you are feeling,” The changeling says, her voice flat and emotionless as she steps away from Kasyr to more closely observe Rumiko, as a scientist would. The only thing Quintessa is missing is the clipboard. “Excitement? Nervousness?” Her words were not distorted this time, but she was still speaking in a hushed tone, low enough that only a vampire would catch it, especially the way the changeling coos like a dove when she adds, “Are you eager?” Only after Kasyr has given Rumiko permission to feed does Quintessa step away to rejoin Kasyr, an ash blonde eyebrow raising in curiosity. “Such a thing could be negotiated, Your Grace,” she says to the revenant in a tone loud enough for mortals to hear, silver eyes flickering over to the guard with such venom in them it was clear she did not want to let this person live. “We have ties here. Strings can be pulled…” Her gaze returns to Kasyr, a serious edge in her voice that betrays her hesitancy to allow someone besides herself to negotiate it. “But how much blood will we require? If we purchase them as slaves…” The idea wasn’t something the changeling was comfortable with, but her pragmatic nature sometimes drove her to put ethical concerns aside when she needed to. “That might suit many needs, but this isn’t the place to discuss those details, is it?” Her gaze flashes back to Tomalie, almost daring her to tell someone what they were talking about. A silent promise that Quintessa would kill her for even thinking about blowing any kind of whistle on the loose plans they were making. “We should focus on other things for now,” The changeling finally adds, turning her attention back to Rumiko and the prisoner that had been served up to her for dinner.

Rumiko was slowly losing her slight semblance of patience, shown by bare feet padding their way back and forth across the floor as if she were trying to burn up excess energy. Once more she found herself lifting the hand that had held the kensai's arm earlier, teeth and tongue tracing over the remnants of blood in a vain attempt to sate the appetite that had yet to be soothed. The first question from the changeling was either not heard or flat out ignored as her wrist twisted so she might tend to the other side. It wasn't until she was questioned about her eagerness that crimson eyes finally rose to watch silver. In the same hoarseness she spoke, the fledgling favoring singular words, it seems. "Hungry." And then the cell door opened. Wide eyes turned towards Kasyr expectantly, giving the impression-or rather proving- that he had control of the situation despite the known impulses of what she had become. Truly, she was waiting for another command, a call of torture to wait and deny herself of what it was she craved most. But it did not come. Rather, permission was granted, and the shrill call to stop, the panic in the knowing what was to become his fate did little more that drag those haunting eyes into the cell and the pinned male. Another smile, more instinctual than of mirth, spread across soiled features as she moved. Where once Rumiko moved with grace, now she was a blur of motion. Darkness seemed to seep from her every pore as she half strode, half shadow-stepped into what was to be her dining room, and those without higher senses might well believe she'd turned ghost for a moment. The fae stepped in close, stopping just shy of the elf to watch as he pulled against the chains that held him. Was that a giggle escaping the fledgling? "Shh." It was a soft sound, one so unexpected that it gave the captured Cenrilian pause. And then she was on the move again. The next sound from within the cell was a strangled, gurgling sound as petite fangs pressed into the tenderness of the man's throat. An annoyed snarl came next as those same fangs were pulled free, Rumi having bitten at an incorrect angle thanks to the struggling elf and torn his windpipe instead. It left him gasping- or trying to- and clawing at his next whilst simultaneously trying to push the smaller being away. It wouldn't matter. Blood reddened tongue ran over her lips as small hands, stronger than they had been, grab and twist the rags her prey had been given to wear. It was easy enough to topple him over thanks to those chained ankles, and once he was fully downed she was at him again. Flat on his back, the elf would find Rumiko sitting on his chest, legs quickly looped under flailing arms in an effort to keep him still. Hands free, the nymph forces her meals head to the side with an audible crack before taking another stab- stabs?- at the side of his neck with her fangs. A successful hit, despite the initial struggle, and Rumi would be otherwise silent as she drank greedily, save small sounds of contentment.

Kasyr and company may be focused on a particular prisoner, but that doesn't mean they exist in a vacuum. Behind them, in a cell across from where this gory scene is playing out, another prisoner lets out a strangled scream- fighting against their growing terror in a futile effort to fall beneath notice. It doesn't help, really. The largest problem with violent feedings is that it dispels the facade of civility that makes the presence of vampires palatable, an illusion he's worked hard to reinforce over the years. Having a a witness to this act of brutality, this breach in the masquerade? Especially from a city which had a contentious history with Vailkrin? Well, that won't do at all, will it? And so his hands move, like a conductor directing a symphony, only the song that rings out is one of steel. That terrified prisoner has only a moment to contemplate the sharp pain in their chest, before a number of blades erupt from it in a spray of blood- a number of swords having effectively been materialized from the inside out. Collapsed lungs really do make dying wails difficult, don't they? The only courtesy to be found in that display, is the sheer amount of organ damage means death comes quickly. Ah, but that wasn't the only witness, was it? Tomalie's here- and currently in the process of staggering over to a wall to vacate her stomach in the face of the inhumane violence she was witnessing, in no small part due to the stark realisation that this could have been here but a few moments ago. It didn't help that the changelings eyes had seemed to promise death. Kasyr, for his part, affords her some dignity, by pointedly ignoring her moment of weakness, instead directing his attention to the changeling, "Oh, I'm aware- but, word has a habit of traveling, so I felt it prudent to clarify." She was a clever girl, and given their prior conversations, she likely knew exactly what he was doing. "Though, on the subject of clarity- I feel it might be good to muddle that in this situation. It would hardly do for any ruckus to reach beyond this part of the prison, non? Have a good spell in store, so we can enjoy this moment in peace?" Tomalie, who had been on the brink of recovering, finds her guts twisting in the wake of a fresh surge of terror.

Quintessa can’t help the way she grins when Rumiko says that she feels “Hungry” flashing a pair of false vampire fangs as she nods her head slowly. “Yes,” she agrees,” Hungry.” The changeling also can’t help the way she remains transfixed on Rumiko’s hunt, a hand held to her cheek as she gushes with “Aww,” and “How precious,” as if she were watching a kitten kill a mouse for the first time. She was clumsy but effective, and Quintessa knew in her heart it would not take long for the former nymph to become an expert huntress. Her attention does get pulled away, however, when a second victim is utterly eviscerated behind her, silvery eyes flickering back with an impish smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh my,” She pivots to get a proper look at the devastation, at the hole that was torn into the prisoner’s chest, and the hand that was held up against her cheek shifts to cover her mouth and stifles a laugh. “Oh, of course I have something for that… we can’t have any witnesses, can we?” Quintessa is already in the process of drawing runes in the air, a hot, orange light lingering, floating before her every place her fingertip traced in the empty space. “Maiora.” Speaking the word causes a burst of cold energy to pulse from her core, betraying the warm orange glow of the magic being used. “Silentium.” Now everything sounded muffled and far away, like hearing something while being submerged under water. Distorted, and incomprehensible, all except the last word of the spell which cuts through the silence like nails on a chalkboard. “Vicissim.” The magic pops with a hollow thud, the zone of silence the changeling created inverting in on itself and forming a bubble around them- a bubble that sound could not escape from. “There,” Quintessa announces, proud of her spell, “I could ignite a thousand barrels of black powder in this sanctum and nobody would hear it. Question is…” She turns to face Tomalie, hand still held in the air, prepared to cast a new spell to subdue or slay the soldier. “What about this one? Look at the mess she’s made.” Quintessa shakes her head, making a dental click in disappointment. “Tsk tsk. I almost feel like I should rub her nose in it.” It was fun to torment Tomalie, but she still stays her hand; She would only kill this woman if Kasyr ordered her directly, even if her bloodlust was starting to rise given her current surroundings. “So? Should I?”

Rumiko was once again lost to the conversation around her as hands cradled the head beneath her. As the prisoner in the cell across the hall's screaming was cut short, the nymph finally pulled herself up into a seated position, though she made no attempt to stand. Under a layer of cherry red, pale skin seemed to reflect some of that pigment; the once sunken in and hollow looking face returning to it's former state as she absorbed the life of the Cenrilian elf that had gone too still below her. Hands released their hold on her victim, coming up to wipe at the blood she could feel running from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, and in a fluid motion they were brought back to her lips so she might polish off the leftovers. The burn had dulled, grown more tolerable. Likely thanks to her shorter stature in comparison to the elven males. Crimson eyes wandered over the soldier, attention lingering on the original tear for a beat before looking over her shoulder to the pair she'd arrived with, and the kebabbed prisoner past them. Brows knit slightly as she eyed the corpse, wasteful. Her tongue ran across her lips once more as the sounds of the female officers vomitting caught her attention. Having grown up in the Lyastri home, which had been full of vampires, the nymph had learned a few things about them. One of the important things that had been repeated was the need for decorum. Witnesses to killing- be it a feeding fledgling or an outright murder- were bad for anyone's image. Her nose wrinkled, and the nymph was suddenly leaning back down toward that torn apart throat in an attempt to find just a bit more. She wasn't quite hungry enough to go after Tomalie, made evident by the way she'd chosen to play with her food.

Kasyr may have cast a sidelong look at Tomalie when Quintessa mentioned witnesses, watching a fresh set of trembles take hold of her. Coolly, Kasyr reaches into his pocket, a smoke procured first for himself, and then the changeling- with his reply to her question only coming after its lit. "We shouldn't tease the people who saw fit to form an," There's a smirk there as he casually draws out the word, sardonic as can be, "Allegiance with us. She's done well, despite her momentary confusion." Terrified as the soldier is, that condescending tone still serves as a hope spot, an opportunity for her to regain her composure, or at least, cease spiraling. Still, she wasn't exactly -functional- at the moment, which meant it was up to the Kensai to crouch along her prone form and relieve the soldier of her keys, a necessary act so he could open the cell door of the prisoner he slew. With the keys still dangling from the now creaking door, he turns his attention back to Rumiko, "Stop fussing with that one, madamoiselle. You'd have more luck with what remains of this one." As though to emphasize that point, the blades he'd channeled slowly begin to disperse, though with that shift, the flow of blood that had been stymied now began to flow more freely in the gaps left behind. Still, odds were Rumiko would get the picture- which simply left one more thing to address. He snaps his fingers at their guide, coaxing their tear-stained face into looking up. "Now then, you're going to do a little favour for us, d'accord? These prisoners? They were transferred to another Larketian location, to be interrogated under extreme duress- and we were simply here to oversee the process." Tomalie stares blankly, her eyes then turning to slowly trace over the spurts of blood that hit the wall, the spatters which lay on the bars, and the pools which still grew along the floor. Kasyr isn't having it. He falls back into a crouch, his empty hand extending out to her jaw in order to cup it, and force her into looking up at him, "They. Were. Transferred." Her mouth opens, as though some faint protest was about to form- before the awful realization of what was being asked dawns on her, "Transferred, yes. They're-," Her eyes skirt back to the slaughter she'd witnessed, and then up to the Kensai. She looks like she's choking, perhaps struggling with the bile that was undoubtedly rising in her throat - but she manages to swallow it back, "A work camp." The revenant relinquishes his hold, patting her cheek as he gets back to his feet, "Good girl." Which meant it was time to take a nice long smoke, and go back to spectating Rumikos' first time feeding.

Quintessa waves her hand as if shooing an animal, dismissing the guard before producing a lime green flame on the tip of her fingers to offer Kasyr a light. “Now, run along little doggy. It’’ll be much easier to pretend you don’t know what fate befell these prisoners if you don’t actually see it.” Now that Kasyr was in possession of the keys, Tomalie served little purpose with them besides providing an unneeded distraction. Letting her go with her life was a courtesy not many would be willing to forego in a situation like this one. Once she was gone Quintessa would turn her attention back to Rumiko as a causal spectator to the ultra violence. “We should extract as many witches as we possibly can,” She says to Kasyr without averting her gaze from the fledgeling, the changeling’s voice returning to a more natural tone without someone to torment. “Their magic will be useful in restoring order to Vailkrin. As for the others? The Cenrili hostages serve no purpose beyond what my dear cousin here has in store for them.” The young woman idly twirls her ash blonde hair as she thinks, a cruel smirk turning up the corners of her mouth. “How much blood do you think a newly sired vampire can engorge themselves on? Necromancers rarely get to observe them this closely- in fact, if you hadn’t given the order for her not to attack me I’d have likely been forced to incinerate her.” It isn’t with caution that Quintessa speaks these words, but excitement, as if the notion of Rumiko trying to kill her was a new game to her. “She barely seems aware of me now… Singularly focused, with only your supernatural connection to her serving as a guiding hand. Very interesting… Do you remember what it was like? Your first time? I hear many vampires don’t- that it's all a blur really. The newly developed senses are too overwhelming and disorienting for them. Some fly into a blind rage and are forced to be put down instantly. Many others are simply left to deal with the changes on their own.” Quintessa peels her gaze away from Rumiko to give Kasyr a serious look, a hand moving down to rest on her hip. “You *are* planning on teaching her what she needs to know, right? I saw how clueless your last fledgeling was, how little she knew of being a vampire. Please do not repeat that same mistake. We have a golden opportunity here and I do not wish to see it squandered.”

Rumiko, for the most part, was paying slightly more attention to those outside the cell. Which was why she pushed against the corpses chest once more to return to that seated position and turn slowly to face the open door and those beyond. There was a sudden slurp as she pulled something into her mouth, but if it was anything other than her tongue it was too fast to tell without investigation of the throat she'd been gnawing on. Her gaze flicked to the other body, the one already sliced and bleeding and no longer screaming. A slight tilt of her head had the nymph turning her nose up, and three quick grinds of her teeth came before a hard swallow. Rumi rose to her feet and popped a finger into her mouth, tongue working to clean the fresh blood off as she stepped over her meal and exited the cell. She stopped there though, gaze moving from the second corpse to Kasyr, then to the false blonde before finally settling in the still shivering Tomalie. A mess of bloody streaks in varying degrees of wetness as she was, even the blank expression on the fae's face would do little to ease those trembling shoulders. Thankfully, it seemed whatever had caused the nymph to be so aggressive before had calmed after her feeding. It was too soon to tell if that was a good indicator for her attitude going forward, however. The whole thing made the officers exit- once dismissed by the changeling- all yhe quicker, and there was a sudden flick of crimson eyes towards her again as she fled. It was that tease of a hunt that had her swirling back around to the fallen male that had been served up for her, and she was slipping past the others and into that second cell. Dropping to her knees with little care to hard surface below her, nimble fingers grabbed and tore the already shredded tunic from the corpse so she might better inspect the multiple wounds from which blood still seeped. Rumiko had little need to use her fangs with this one, and with a few prods to find which slice held the most sustenance, she'd be leaning down once more to lap across the planes of the once-soldiers chest. It would be a lie to say she wasn't playing with this one too, even as she took in what was available. Closer inspection would show she was simply testing the different textures; outer flesh, inner muscle and the softer bits found deeper inside the crevasses. Needless to say the fledgling was finished feeding, at least for the most part. Though if they tried to remove her now she might insist on keeping what had become a new toy.

Kasyr , between the zone of privacy they existed within, and absence of that intrusive 'being watched' feeling, allows himself a relieved sigh. Enough that he even feels comfortable answering the changelings comment, "I'd honestly have to wonder if any witches," There are air quotes here, "here, or if it's just a convenient label for dissidents." The thought had been a passing one, but there was a certain credence to it. If there were any that were important, they'd likely be in a more secure holding cell. Still, his tone is cautious, "Even if they truly are- there's a problem. We already stated that at this juncture, we would not take the witches. So yes, we might be able to rescue one, peut-etre even two, but it would rouse suspicions, and complicate negotiations in future." There's a sigh, but he still finds the time to afford the changeling a wry grin, "Delayed Gratification, I know it's hard. Still, this does set a precedent that prisoners exchanged to Vailkrin would likely meet messy ends, which -should- help negotiating for witches easier." And yet, he still finds himself grimacing, his index tapping against his lip, " Macons' mannerisms are a problem, though. He's far too fond of shows of force. We may need to worry that he'll lean into and fuel rumours of Vailkrin killing and eating witches, et Cenrili soldiers. No doubt, that would facilitate interrogations. So, let's keep the nature of this as concealed as we can." See, while the revenant lacked certain vampiric talents which colored their dark mythology- those who had known the kensai for a long time would likely be aware of his affinity with blood and the manner in which it so readily crept towards his position, ever eager to aid his regeneration. It's this gift that's currently wrenching all the free flowing blood from the cell Rumiko had left behind, the traces of their nightmarish crime slithering across the ground towards the Revenant, culminating in his palm- so it might be crafted into the image of a sword. An implement that's more than functional, because when its' edge across the floor alongside the deceased prisoner, it's still able to carve a slit through the seams of reality- one which expands wide enough to swallow the body- to send it tumbling down into a blackened sea, full of slithering shapes. It's a trick he'll be mirroring once the second corpse has been spent. In the interim, however, "Depends. Injured vampires tend to drink more in the first place, et my bloodline tends to have a rather prodigious..." Yeah, Rumiko is taking chunks out of that body, "appetite." And then Quintessa turns the conversation turns towards him, "I do. Et I'd rather not go into it right now. Perhaps later. She might find it enlightening as well." But it's that last remark that leads to Kasyrs' expression darkening, "I provided for every member of the coterie. Guidelines, accompaniment, peers to train et hunt alongside." There's a pause, his mind flickering to both the seamstress and Dami, "That said, I also respected when they chose to live their own lives separately, amongst the mortals and away from the wars - provided they weren't a danger to others. Don't hold me accountable for the things she forgot." Or that had been worn away by the thing that had clung to her. "Rumiko saw fit to trust me, "Albeit, on deaths door, "So I will do my best by her. ...I would also suggest against harming her, even out of scientific curiosity."

Quintessa nods at Kasyr’s assessment about how some of those labeled as witches might not actually be, her currently silver eyes returning to Rumiko as she parts her lips to speak. “Yes, I’ve considered that. Let’s take them all and then I can screen them- test them for the magical potential in their blood. Rumiko can have the ones that fail.” When Kasyr reminds her that they said they would not take the witches yet, Quintessa nods again, albeit this time with a small frown, “Yes, of course, Your Grace. Lets just take one for now so I can refine a way to test them. One of us can negotiate for the rest of them later. I have… legitimate academic reasons for wanting to study them. If I approach from the angle that I will share any knowledge gained with the witchcraft research department of the Larketian Academy, they may be more likely to let us have them.” Quintessa folds her hands behind her back, her head tilting as she too considers the possible outcomes. “Yes, this should all remain as clandestine as possible. I do not wish to disrupt the rapport I have built up with Cenril in the wake of the crimes I committed there. This war has created a proper distraction from it all but… I must still answer for them eventually. Being involved in witch-eating will not bode well for my case.” The changeling watches in silence as the blood coalesces in a blade sharp enough to slice a portal into reality, a talent the young spellcast immediately began to imitate the first time she had seen it a year ago. “Yes, we’ll have lots to discuss later. All three of us. There are greater implications of this… new development that you two might not be aware of.” The darkening of Kasyr’s expression brings the tiniest of smirks to her lips as he reacted in the way she expected he would, but his indignation is enough to prove that he did his best with Iintahqouhae and Dami, even if she might disagree his best was good enough. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I was not accusing you of inadequacies. I’m merely repeating what she told me herself.” That was between sire and childe; Quintessa knew little of the actual truth regarding the seamstress's upbringing. “As for this one…” Silver eyes flicker back over to Rumiko as she brushes the hair from them. “Do you really think I would harm my dear cousin?” She places a hand on her chest, feigning heartbreak, a false whimpering rising in her voice as she gives him an exaggerated frown. “You wound me, my liege.” A grin quickly returns however before she offers a fair warning to them both. “If I do have to subdue Rumiko, it’ll not be in search of scientific advancement, it’ll be out of necessity. She’s dangerous… I can sense it inside of her… dwelling. I will not hesitate to destroy her if she threatens my life, understand? So long as you can keep a handle on her aggression I promise not to turn her into one of my experiments. You have my word.”

As if to emphasize what Kasyr meant, another bit of flesh tearing could be heard as Rumiko stretched open one of those many wounds past its elasticity. Left hand dove further into the corpse's abdomen, fingers pushing the pulling at the muscle and tissue to reveal the sternum and ribcage beneath. Lifting higher over the body, she pressed her palms into the center of the exposed area and slammed down, sending the loud *crack* sounding through their little bubble of quiet and nearly covering the gleeful sound escaping the fledglings gore coated lips. She made quick work of pulling bits and pieces away, as if working a puzzle in reverse, and paused for a moment as what she was after was revealed. There was the smallest of knicks in the pericardium thanks to the blades that had run him through, and with careful precision the nymph reached into the cavity to tear it the rest of the way open and lift the organ from its resting place. Her head bowed so that teeth could be used to tear away the veins and arteries tying it to its owner, and once it was free she was moving to a stand. Fingers squeezed in quick succession, feigning heartbeats as she left the demolished cadaver behind and rejoined the pair between the cells. If she'd heard the last bit of Quintessa calling her dangerous, she didn't let on.

Kasyr is rubbing at his temple. It was one thing to unperson a pair of soldiers, especially when they'd been effectively unpersoned. Frankly, the odds of anyone realizing they were in this location was minimal. Still, "Unlike soldiers, Valrae es much more likely to care about them. Likely out of a sense of responsibility- which means anything that occurs to one of them es more apt to fall under scrutiny. Which then leads us once again to the problem of witnesses et quoi-ce-soit. The less of a footprint we leave, the better." His expression is exasperated. "Still, I can't imagine Macon will mind your proposition. He has a war to win and any research on the matter, real or imagined, is priceless. Franchement, with your exile on 'Temporary Hiatus', " There's definitely some airquotes there, "- I see no wrong in scheduling a meeting, et sending you in my place to expedite things." The rest of her words are processed in relative silence, though once her mocking display had segued into a mock indignation, he can't help but retort with an immediate, "In a heartbeat." The swordsmans' attention flicks back over to Rumiko as Quintessa says what he's thinking, and which the vampiric fae is so happily demonstrating in her gleeful dissection of the deceased. Dangerous, and perhaps closer to his own underlying temperment than he would have liked. "I'm almost wondering if you're keeping an eye on her for the sake of seeing what would happen if I did the same to you." His attention remains on his fledgeling, the manner in which she happily saunters out of the cell with her new 'stress ball' in tow, even as the second soldiers body vanishes into a rift never to be seen ago, "Still with this attended to, I think it's best to be off. We can do them the courtesy of checking out properly, so they don't have to lose their minds over hypothetical mischief. You can take a shortcut back to the castle, et I'll leave a message with Macons' people to set our other bit of business in motion before reconvening." It's only at this juncture that the swordsman cants his head back towards Rumiko, his expression amused, even if the tone does carry a certain authority, "Don't make a meal of anyone while I'm gone." A pause, and then he adds, "Or kill anyone unnecessarily."