Dragons Never Die

[Skuld]

For years the earth beneath the Dragomir Temple had kept her warm and the smell of the dead and decaying had kept her at peace. Skuld had buried herself, sunk down to become one with the earth after her dragons, her lifeline, had gone quiet. She’d gone quiet with them, but a dragon never truly sleeps and it was time for her to awaken. Claw-like hands dug at the earth, pulling it from above her. The tattered white gown she always wore had rotted and as she moved within the earth the remains of it tore off, scattered behind her like a shedding skin. It took hours of this, but soon she’d reached the cool stone surface beneath the floor of the temple.

Her sleep had given her energy, and with a curled fist she punched at the cement, clawed at it and chipped away bit by bit for nights and nights, sleeping only when the sun’s pull drew her into it. Eventually she caused a small corner of the temple floor to cave in and was able to pull her wraith-like form free, naked and filthy, with bloodied hands to show for her efforts. A smile, crooked and crazed, pulled at her lips as she breathed in the fresh air and incense trapped in the temple. Her bare, muddy feet left tracks on the floor as she walked, surpassing sleeping forms and making her way to the main floor.

The pews were there as always, the decorations remained the same. Things seemed untouched with only the smallest traces of activity being held within the temple. As she gathered these sights, the Dragomir walked towards the entrance and burst through the temple doors out into the night. She was starving, ruthless, and the first human she found she fed greedily. Skuld scarcely remembered to seal the wound and wipe the memory of the poor beast but she managed, doing so again and again until she was full. She was seen a time or two and suffered two bullshot wounds from a hunter, but she was full. She was awake. Now all she had to do was find her dragons.

She returned to the Temple, went upstairs where she knew the others used to sleep and called out to the room in a crackling, unused voice.

“Nikolae…Azraeth…”

[Azraeth]

It was the day after the new moon, and the sky was dark far above save for the soft twinkle of lights to complement those that shone upwards from the city. The two were constantly at war, struggling between each other for dominance, and if one were to glance up from the ground, they would be unlikely to even make out the celestial bodies. Azraeth was surrounded by greyscale darkness, in a land of flickering shadows that let no true light penetrate their depths. It had been some time since he had gone into the undying, shrouded lands to clear his mind, but there had been a lot that required pondering. Unlike some people who did their best thinking in the shower, he came up with his best ideas in the true silence of the void.

He looked through his wraith’s eyes, speaking across the veil from mind to mind, consciousness to consciousness. Where he did not feel that his own presence was required at the Temple most of the time, he liked to ensure that if something happened there, he could be quickly alerted in case he needed to teleport in and cast Eirene’s Will or something of that nature. Avignon, once called Hollister, had felt the need to disturb him so Azraeth had taken the proverbial reigns to get a good look at what was really going on, and that was when he saw someone whose face he had not in a very long time. Skuld had been one of the first turned by their sire, one of Az’s orginal siblings. Curious.

He moved to stand, and took one step. One foot in the blasted lands and one in the living realm, he appeared as if out of nowhere. Of course, he had gone into the dark place from the Temple, so returning through that same door was a simple enough task. He popped out just behind the altar on the ground floor, and there was a hiss of recognition as Magog slithered towards him. She frequently stuck to some corner while he was away, unable to make the journey with him, but she was his constant companion when she could be. The albino serpent coiled up his leg as he stepped towards the stairs. The two of them acted nearly in unison and by the time he had found his way upstairs, she lay curled around one bicep.

His face was not the same one that he had worn some years before, but that was the affliction of the Mystic. “You rang?” He asked as he let his back press against a wall, arms folding over his chest. One foot laid flat against the stone structure behind him, and the other on the ground. He didn’t clarify who he was – the cerulean starbursts that were his eye likely gave it away. Deep pools of blue that were cleanly bisected by a single black chasm. “You have been well?” he asked. He had opted not to wear a suit for once, taking the implied advice given by Prudence and Lorelai. He wore more casual clothing, a black turtle neck, brocade vest in many colours, black corduroy pants and plain tanned leather shoes.

[Nikolae]

Nikolae tossed an apple in the air idly, smirking to himself as he strode down the familiar streets back to his home. Though the place was a house of worship - former and present for entirely different reasons - the Temple was nothing like the building he'd just come from. The Dragon had been feeling both peckish and bored, so he'd stolen a page from the pretty black book the mortals in the building had been having an evening service of worship over. Nikolae, with his serpents eyes, had stood beneath a lamp-post, waiting for exactly the right subject to emerge from the heavy doors of the building, and then presented his temptation. The fervent gaze of the believer had been drawn with malice as the man had finally approached him and snatched for the pretty red apple. He'd even accused Nikolae of being a servant of the devil, a fact which had drawn a startled laugh from the Dragomir. A hand over the prats mouth and a forced few steps out of the light and against the side of the emptied building later, and Nikolae had a belly full of fresh blood and what he chalked up to a rather enjoyable evening.

The Dragon pushed open the doors of his own home, pocketing the apple with the intent to perhaps have it used again or to serve as inspiration for a bit of artwork he suddenly wanted to see on one of the stained-glass windows of the Temple. He paused with a light smile to sense his first-borne already there, a rarity these nights as the Mystic tended to dwell in his own apartment or lurk around doing magicks elsewhere. A hand passed over the mans neck in greeting; "Hello, Raeth." He murmured.

He stilled then as the scent of death wafted to his nose, and cocked his head curiously. There were a handful of Necromancers still up and about that he knew in town, though it not-so-shockingly wasn't one of the more prominent paths the vampires took. His golden gaze followed his Wraith's and he stilled, shock passing over his features silently. A heartbeat or two passed, and then he was flowing toward the emaciated girl and swooping her into his arms as he'd done so many times before. A chaste kiss pressed to her forehead.

"Good evening, pretty. How was your rest?" He spoke in a hushed tone, cradling her slight frame carefully even as he settled her back to her feet with a welcoming smile. There would be no chastisement for her long sleep, nor a plea that it didn't happen again. As ever, the Dragon was accepting of anything his childer had to offer.

[Skuld]

As she waited for her call to be answered Skuld looked about the room with her eerie serpentine eyes, taking in sights she’d not seen in nearly two years. She felt a little spark of warmth seeing the altar all bloodied and used as it should be. Skuld did not have much capacity for emotion and that spark was the closest thing to nostalgia that she would experience, at least until Nikolae got his arms around her. Her mind, dancing about in its fragmented way, brought up the visage of Xadrian and she considered digging around for him before Azraeth’s voice rang out.

Skuld stared at him, one hand toying with a scrap of the material of her dress. He looked different but she could tell it was him, just by the way he spoke and of course the eyes. The air he held himself with was also familiar and a stark contrast to Skuld. She appeared like a wraith, some barely-alive thing, frail and dirty. He was what she called the Golden Boy for reasons she couldn’t remember, but the term rose up in her mind and next it was leaving her lips.

“Golden Boy. You are still around,” she said, tone not inflecting as it would in a question. Her voice sounded dull. “I am here. Where is Nikolae?”

She took steps forward, muddying the floor and leaving bits of clay from the earth all over the trail she walked. The girl stopped a short distance away from him and peered up, head canting to the side as she took him in. A smile quirked on her lips and she reached a hand up, patting his cheek and leaving an imprint of dirt and blood. “It is good to see you,” she began, stepping back once more by a few steps. The snake she didn’t appreciate, and gave it a wide berth.

Nikolae arrived and Skuld felt a surge of energy. It was something close to excitement and caused a nervousness in her belly she wasn’t familiar with. She hadn’t seen him in far too long and waited, a little anxious, for him to notice she was there. He spoke to Raeth and her eyes narrowed slightly like a toddler’s who wanted attention but had to witness it being given to a sibling. Finally, her sire turned and saw her and that smile was back on her bloodstained lips.

“Nikolae,” she said, voice raising in pitch. Her arms wound around his neck and she squeezed him with all the strength she could muster, burying her dirty face against his shoulder. “It was good. I miss it, but I am here,” she said, leaning back. The girl acted a fraction more normal around Nikolae as if his presence distracted her from her weird Necromancer ways. “How are you? Have you killed many? Where is Xadrian? The others?” came the flood of questions.

[Azraeth]

Not so golden anymore. His hair had lost its blond hue when he had died, when his flesh had turned to ash, and he had gone to the blasted lands to rest in the deep darkness. When he had come back, he had been drawn to a body physically similar in some ways to Nikolae’s. The two of them looked more related than Az did his own twin. Maybe that was for the best though, because his twin seemed to enjoy using their shared physical features to get him into trouble. It had been some time since those days, of course. He suspected Azariel would pop up eventually to torment him briefly before disappearing once more to do…whatever it was he did.

A hand touched him; it was cold and he felt blood and mud brushing off on his skin. He did not seem to mind and made no move to wipe away the evidence of her presence when her hand did finally pull away. There was this common misconception when it came to Az that he was something of a neat freak. On the contrary, he felt more comfortable covered in blood than not at all. He was careful with the face he presented to the rest of the vampiric community, and to the face he presented to humans. But the truth was that he was a serpent, and all serpents slithered through the dirt and grime. That was their lot in life, and one that he did not begrudge in the slightest.

His smile was fond if restrained.

“It is good to see you as well. I’m sure Niko--.” He didn’t get much further, because his sire arrived in a most timely fashion and he gave a nod in the man’s direction, by way of greeting. “Speak of the Devil, hello, Sire.” Magog twisted slowly. She had turned her head at Skuld’s approach, if only because the serpent did not know the Necromancer. She was something of a judgy creature who seemed to be hit or miss when it came to people. Her attention was focused for the moment on Nikolae. She stared with those blood red eyes and then went back to tucking her head in against the coils of her body as if to say she didn’t want to be disturbed.

The conversation turned to the rest of the Dragomir, and Az did not feel as if it was really his place to elaborate. Most of them had sunk into a deep slumber much like the one Skuld had apparently lifted herself from. Others had outright disappeared. Raeth didn’t really consider it a bad thing or a good thing. It was just the way that things worked. His views on the nature of family had changed over the years, but that wasn’t something he could easily explain. “I know absolutely nothing about girl clothing. I think a meeting with…what is the name of that new one you sired, Nikolae? Or Kennedy I suppose. She seems to have a sense of fashion and I did promise we could meet.” His phrase trailed off, as he mused on the possibility.

Regardless, he couldn’t let Skuld run around in a white gown covered in mud and blood. Wonderful way to attract the wrong kind of attention.

[Nikolae]

Nikolae smiled affectionately at the odd girl he'd claimed for a childe so many years before. She was ever the same, he was relieved to note, and it seemed her time buried in the dirt hadn't caused her to lose her mind - or for it to fracture any further than he recalled it being in the first place. He took two steps and sat, tucking her familiarly into his lap like the living dead doll he'd long coined her as in his mind. With a tilt of his head he indicated his first borne ought to sit and join them as well. His Wraith was always so formal. Her questions brought his gold slitted eyes together in a pinched expression of regret.

"I'm well, pretty. I've been keeping to myself for a couple years." He admitted with a faint smile. It wasn't regret, he wasn't sure he felt that at all these days. "Xadrian and the others are..." He hesitated, because the truth was he wasn't entirely certain where the others she might've remembered would be. He shrugged. "Sleeping, I think. Like you were. Some Dragons are still awake, however, or have recently woken." He added. It seemed the city was calling to many of the blood drinkers to return. Nikolae wasn't sure if he'd been one of the first to suddenly begin making public appearances again, but it felt like he had been. Not long after his return, many others had begun speaking again. It was as if there was something on the horizon, drawing them all back to the fold in preparation. For what, he didn't know, could only pray it wouldn't be bad.

He slid his gaze back to Azraeth with a bemused expression. Skuld had always favored straying around the city looking much like a mental ward pation who'd clawed her way to freedom through the dirt under a wire fence. But Raeth was right - these days it didn't do to draw attention to a vampires-self. That sort of attention would no doubt be followed by the attention of the sewer-rats that took joy in slaughtering their own kind. "Deirdre's her name." He replied with a chuckle. He really did need to have his Wraith meet his Pixie officially, at least so the pair would recognize eachother in the streets and not merely for their odd eyes. "She might be of some help... she's a Necromancer as well, though so recently turned she'd probably need a mentor of her own." He mused, fingers idly combing through the dirt-spattered hair of his girl-childe. The second suggestion drew a grimace. "Kennedy's style isn't exactly..." He struggled to find the right word. "Prudent." He finished with a shrug. The girl seemed friendly, and trustworthy, and all the right things - and he certainly liked her, not only for Raeth and Chai's sake. But she'd been dressed like a spring-breaker and he was pretty sure he'd have a heart-attack if his innocent Skuld showed up in biker boots and a mini-skirt. His other hand tightened protectively around the girl at the thought.

"But I'm sure we can find something more appropriate, until we can arrange a girls night out for you." He murmured to Skuld dotingly. If the faint flush in her cheeks were anything to go by, at least she'd fed. And with a thought he was relieved to note she hadn't been caught, or noticed, despite her odd appearance. But better safe than sorry, always, in a town full of cut-throats. "What do you think?"