RP: That Prickish Aura

Synopsis: Larewen runs into Christian at the Hanging Corpse Tavern, where he dubs the corruption of her magic as a "prickish" aura. The elven vampire is seeking information regarding the whereabouts of Kyperion.

The Hanging Corpse

Larewen pushed open the doors to the establishment, that dark aura flooding the establishment the moment she crossed the threshold. For those more sensitive to magic, like the mage had been, the corrupted sorceress's presence might have been noted long before she actually made her appearance. Beneath a veil of ebon, a smirk danced across lips that had turned nearly purple with the darkened blood that tainted her undead body. There were still hints of that elven beauty that had once been there, hints of a far gentler nature prior to the incidents that had warped her. Her gloved hands were curled into the fold of her skirt, hoisting its hem from the ground as she made her way not toward her usual table, but instead to the bar to sit next to some poor chap that was already there.

Christian was behind the bar-- working? Probably not. Either way, he was practically just standing there until Larewen had entered. He couldn't quite place why, but her presence made his nose cringe, contort immediately into an expression of disgust. Regardless, the Kensei made his approach before Steadmen got the chance, a quick, "Can I--" he stopped, letting forth a heavy exhale. "Holy hell, y'know, I called you a prick, but it ~literally~ seeps from your every pore. I'm not sure yet, but every bone in my body is screaming to absolutely despise your existence." Yeah, that's the way he'd treat customers.

Larewen chortled in response to Christian's words. Her glance slid past him as his offer to help her was quickly replaced with insult, those dark eyes instead settling on Steadmen. "My usual," she directed the bartender - after all, the woman had come here often enough over the last several years. Perhaps less so in the more recent, but it was certainly a far better choice than the taverne in Kelay. A moment later, her stare returned to the male. "You say that like it's a bad thing," the dark sorceress said quietly. "Are you always so rude to your customers?" Her eyes slid away from him then, to sweep over the patrons. "Where's Tenebrae?"

Christian paused, hand brought to his chin to contemplate the woman's question for no more than a moment before a slow, flat, "Yes," was muttered in reply. "As for Tenebrae, she's been absent recently. Last we met, she told me to take care of the Corpse, amongst other, more important things." Of course, the latter he hadn't been pursuing very fervently. Find a new home for the Cabal? Right, like they'd approve of any location of his choosing. "On a side note, my blatant "rudeness" doesn't seem to deter business any. If anything, it's made things more lively."

Larewen quirked a brow upward, though in reality his words did not surprise the sorceress. No, she was quite familiar with Tenebrae's abscences. When the Cabal leader had told her they ought to catch up, Larewen knew full well that it could easily be just as many years from now as it had been since she had been a part of that clan. Those memories still haunted her, though now they brought a twisted delight to the woman's pale features. "Shame," she said as a glass of bloodwine was finally brought and coins were exchanged. It seemed that, for the moment at least, that the elf had no violent intentions. She would sip its contents for a few moments before speaking again, "Neither does your fawning, it seems." Her words were, quite obviously, reminscent of his over-zealous display of affection toward the woman whose name she unknowingly shared.

Christian patted his pockets for cigarettes before retrieving one and placing it to candle for a light. "If you're talking about..." he'd trail off, an immediate expression of sheer concentration overtaking his face "...I can't remember her name to save my life. She knows mine, I believe. Awkward. Regardless! It was classic misdirection. If I hadn't ruthlessly pestered her, she likely would've tried killing me, or plotting against me. Either way, certainly not great for her health." There was vague logic behind his thought-process, even if it was somewhat lost, even on him. That cigarette would just hang from his lip, building ash which fell to the floor alongside of toxic plumes.

Larewen once more loosed a peal of laughter, her aura thickening and shifting as it drew closer to her once more. Those that were farther from her would feel its affects less now, whilst those nearby who could sense it were forced to suffer that intensified dreadfulness in their stead. "What a pity," she cooed, shaking her head. Then she followed with, "I'm certain if that was her intent, then your display wouldn't have mattered." Her dark eyes followed the falling ashes for a moment. "You're not much in the place to talk about one's health."

Christian wiggled a finger back and forth. "They did matter. Things ended on a rather civil note, actually, one which wouldn't have been achieved without my antics. Communication, even in anger, is communication nonetheless." The Kensei was wiser than he often led on, and his antics, mostly, had some sort of agenda beyond their appearance. "As for my health, you shouldn't concern yourself. I'm no more of a mortal than you, bloodsucker; however, I don't rely on stealing life from others. Honestly, would you expect me to be 'normal?' Vampire, Lycan, Dragon; what use would a human be without tricks of his own?" Of course, he wasn't invulnerable, but at a point, his aging had ceased, disease reverted. Though not quite attuned to the magical side of life, his time spent as a hermit-esque sage did allow for a certain level of extra-sensory perception. "How can someone be so negative? Humor me. You're not alive and if, by chance, you aren't killed, you'll live forever; why waste such an infinitely foreseeable span of life on sheer darkness? Breeding misery only comes full-circle, my dear."

Larewen couldn't answer that, and so his words were met with an extended silence. It was need that had weedled its way into her body, something that at times lay dormant, and at others urged her to kill with sweet nothings murmured within the walls of her mind. Her current state of being hadn't been her choice at all, actually. For a brief moment, that hard stare softened into something else, something that couldn't quite be read on those once flawless features. The taint that webbed its way through her veins was not the most pleasant sight. Larewen was having one of her better days, it seemed. But then, that softness faded and her lips twisted into a scowl and she averted his query entirely with, "I imagine you spend a great deal of time here. Tell me, have you seen a man fascinated with Vakmatharas's death cult lately?"

Christian thought about the inquiry she had presented, suddenly recalling a cloaked individual who had followed his brother into this very tavern. Logic would lead him to assume she had been talking about Kasyr. "My brother!" he'd shout, unafraid of whatever Larewen had in store. "Y'know, big, scary, 'I'm ruler,' man," he'd offer with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, I'm beyond apathetic toward the situation. I'm sure he'll eventually commit mass-murder and play it off as a justice-killing.

Larewen quirked a brow upward. "Your brother?" she echoed. She didn't mean Kasyr, but then the dark sorceress was ignorant of the fact that Kasyr was this man's sibling. No, the conversations she'd had with the revenant were not about family, but rather Kyperion, the cult itself, and the cursed priest's amulet that now hung around her neck. "The man I seek does not carry himself in such a way. His name would be Kyperion."

Christian shrugged. "Whatever, kid. I don't know who he is, so it must not be terribly important. Cults happen, rebellions happen; know why you don't read about many, though? Most fail. Why concern oneself with an entity which, statistically, won't make any change?"

Larewen knew that. Her reason for seeking the man was only in part due to the cult. Or maybe it was a larger part of it all, because in a way, Kyperion could be, and quite possibly was, blamed for her current state. The elf didn't respond to his words though, instead finishing her glass of bloodwine and sliding the stemmed glass back across the bar. A smirk had once more found its way to her lips as she continued to sit there, now in silent thought.