LORE: Training a Hell Hound (MATURE)

[Emora Deen]

Talon looked at him. “What would he put her through that would make someone as head strong and as stubborn as Tenele drink poison?” he breathed, unable to imagine such a devious plot. “Or maybe he was hoping she wouldn’t investigate the contents…”

He eyed the bottle and turned in his seat to take a book of the shelf. He opened it to a hollow spot where there were other smaller vials of different liquids and he hid the Relief amongst them before he set the book back on the shelf.

“I told Tenele not to burn his temples. I told her it was a bad idea, and she didn’t listen,” he sighed. “She never listens.”

[Soran Nightblade]

"It was a bold move," he agreed, "But let's be honest. Who'd want to listen to you?" Vlad mocked impishly.

[Emora Deen]

Talon narrowed his eyes on the vampire. “And here I was thinking we were getting along,” he said with a tired smirk. He finally stood up, moving his hand to finish unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to sleep, you can let yourself out I hope…”

* * *

Tenele wondered back to her room, holding the bag with her boots in them. She glanced down at Stalker, who was following so diligently along next to her. “It is just past midday and I’ve already run out of things to do. It doesn’t feel right to not have some task…” She thought aloud, talking to Stalker as if he could reply. She had wanted a vacation, and even though it would only be a single day she thought that maybe her mind would not like a vacation…

She’d get bored to easily.

She pushed the door open to her room and set the bag down. The curtains were drawn back and allowed warm sunlight to pour into the room. She sighed as she pulled the dress and all the layers up to her knees and crawled onto the bed and into the center where she fell back, the many layers of fabric pooling around her as she thought about how to spend her day.

[Soran Nightblade]

Vlad studied Talon for a long moment. "I'll leave you in peace, I suppose. I hope you appreciate the restraint that takes." He turned away from Tenele's brother and went to the door. "Don't get any ideas about Relief while I'm working out the details on this cure," he snickered before letting himself out.

Back in the hall, the vampire's smirk faded. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he was going to bed. With that stamina, there was no way he'd be able to find a way to fix himself. If he'd just told them all earlier...

What was he worrying about that tight-ass for? He cleared his head and decided to find Tenele. In a split second, he appeared in her quarters. "Your brother sends you this salutation," he announced, throwing his arms wide as if preaching to a crowd. "Dearest sister, there is an enormous stick up my ass!"

[Emora Deen]

Tenele sat up with a smile, looking at him with a strange expression. “Maybe you should offer to help him get it out?” she asked with a laugh, and then realized how morbidly sick that sounded. “Or not…”

She sat up on her knees, gathering her skirts and crawling to the edge of the bed and she sat with her legs crossed. “Did Talon say anything about that bottle?” she asked him curiously.

[Soran Nightblade]

"It was poison," Vlad said. "Looks like he's running out of creative ideas. Now he's just rooting on dumb luck."

[Emora Deen]

Tenele didn’t know why that unsettled her, but it did. It was clear in the expression on her face as it faltered from interested to worried. “Oh,” she muttered, brushing back silver hair behind her ear that had fallen loose from the intricate braided design she’d put her hair in. She shifted off the bed, the layers of green fabric that was her dress falling down around her feet. “Well, he was being dumb if he thought I’d drink it…”

She went to her wardrobe and grabbed a bag off the top shelf. It was the last bag she owned, since all her other ones had gotten lost on many other ventures. She placed it on the table next to the wardrobe and began to fiddle with the clothes, clearly trying to distract herself.

“Hmm… Winter clothes. Probably shouldn’t pack dresses,” she mused, passing them up for the coats that she had.

She then stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. “It was poison, but it said relief. I don’t understand,” she told him, her green eyes looking to him. “You know what it doesn’t matter.” She turned back to the wardrobe and started digging through the clothes again. She didn’t want to think about it, and she didn’t want to talk about it, because that meant drawing attention to the fact she was in trouble.

Then again, maybe she wasn’t.

[Soran Nightblade]

Moved to Hepian: Holier Than Thou