Dark Journey and Beginings

[Noemi Michaux]

Cool waves of silk fell over and down the curves of her supple hips. The blue black creating a wet sheen made even more stunning by the flawless white of skin beneath it. Noemi sat down at her vanity, cooly staring into the mirror before her... trying to decide if what she was seeing... or as the case may be, lack of what she was seeing, bothered her.

She knew what she looked like. She had many pictures of herself from not even a month past if she began to forget. Saved to drives, to hard copies, to be squirreled away for the ages...

She also knew the planes and curves of her face intimately, by touch or by sight.

Perhaps she would let time tell her how she felt about such things. For now, the glorious monster had other things to captivate her. Picking up the newly acquired pot of foundation, Dior palest ivory, she dabbed her brush into it and began to idly sweep it over her skin, down deep into her decolletage. Assuring herself it was blended in by lightly tapping with her fingertips, she added a sweep of black to her already long lashes, a bit of ruddy gloss to her lips and felt satisfied as aside from the colour of her makeup everything was so honed into routine she could do it in the dark... and was.

Unaccustomed to having to spend so much thought on her appearance the aristo put down the tools and stood from the bench, smoothing her hair over her shoulders as she did. Noemi reached over and took her cape jacket from the bed, slipping it on, letting it fall to the floor in a graceful sweep, lifting the cowl up and over her head into a hood that only partially hid her features. She did not know what the cold would do to her newly dead complexion, but until she had a chance to experiment upon it, she wanted no alarms raised.

A tap began a light staccato against her window, dragging her from her musings as she looked to see what was peering in. The Owl immediately ceased as it watched her register his presence, sitting still and proud. Noemi crossed the room and opened the window, careful to be as respectful as possible to the glorious one.

No sound was made, but the beauty new she had work to do tonight. Things that would change her sires fortunes for the better. She was her sires daughter, more so than her birth father ever could have been to her, and knew he had not only gifted her death, but had honoured her further by creating her himself, the first generation of their lineage.

She did not fully understand the vampiric heirarcy yet, but she knew these generations, and she knew he had gifted her well. She would honour him in return, as she honoured her master Death.

Noemi ran a fingertip down the snowy white of the owls wing, earning a soft clicking from its deadly beak.

Picking up the book her sire had gifted her, an ancient tome of human skin, the pages a vellum of gold edge and beautiful works, filled with secrets and even more secret languages. She would devour every word.

The necromancer turned and walked out into the dark, blending in as if Death himself had put an arm over her shoulder to shield her from the unworthy.

[Noemi Michaux]

Eerie sounds and echoes haunted the musings of the vampire, the streets she tread almost devoid of human activity. When she had been alive she had barely noticed how sparse the night time population was, but now that her eyes had been opened to this other world, not to mention the hunger screaming from her gut to be sated, she couldn't help but take note.

Her sire had been generous in his teachings when it came to feeding, and Noemi would cherish that memory as long as the moon rose in the sky. The hot rush of life as it poured into her mouth, such a high that she was sure there was no human drug made that could bring one to such ecstacy. Idly, and to take her mind from her hungers, she wondered if perhaps it wasn't some ancient blood thief that had invented the first drug ritual... trying in vain to recapture that moment... but failing...

Noemi knew she must hold onto this hunger for now. Knew her sire Ambrose expected her to utilize the self control he demanded. It was so difficult obeying this, her body doing everything it could to steer her toward any human that happened too close. Gritting her teeth and once more grateful she had thought to wear the hooded cloak jacket, she continued on toward her sire's residences. She had promised to wrap her own home up so that she could stay close to him for the time being. She had much to learn before being trusted more than a few hours at a time by herself.

As a Doctor she had no illusions what heavy addiction could make people do. As a monster she had no illusions how very addicting that taste of blood had become.

She HAD to get to her sire now, her gums aching as her canines elongated and her cells screamed in torture as if she were dying of dehydration but without the mercy of an actual death...

Lord Death help her, she could not lose her dignity, and WOULD not lose her sires respect.

Stony faced she raised her hand to his door, gathering her self respect before it was given away for good.

Never let them see weakness.

[Noemi Michaux]

His gaze weighed heavy upon her neck, his concentration so pinpointed she had to resist the urge to rub over the exposed flesh. She gently quashed it down with the growing list of discomforts, pushing it to the back of her mind as she forced herself to lend her formidable will toward her new studies.

Noemi's hair had already begun to stand on end, ages ago it seemed, with the first taste of the 'other' as she had begun calling the shadowy presence all around her. Her sire had explained to her what she would learn to communicate with, use to her will. Fae...

She rolled that word about in her mind a few more times. Ambrose's gaze was even more heavy unbelievably and she knew he was silently admonishing her for her little break.

The French woman narrowed her own gaze, fixing her concentration upon the altar before her. It should have made her want to run screaming, the gore caked sides, bits of flesh and rivers of blood creating new and ominous sculptings over the original stoneworks. Instead the great stone called to her, made her want to slip her clothing over fevered skin and climb naked and wanton over the top, coating herself in the power and blood fair pulsing from it. She wanted to melt into it...

With that thought her pupils pinpointed so that her eyes seemed naught but green orbs, the hunger she had felt without fail since her embrace faded into the great nothingness, and she felt herself fill with an awareness she had never known... like the caress of orchid petals laced with lightning...

that scent became palpable with the thought, fused itself with her until she was nothing but fragrant ozone and wild jungle flowers, at one with the ritual before her. She reached down between her parted feet, picking up the small basket her sire had given, and opened the book bound in flesh. She had taken that tome and rubbed the soft leather over her body, inhaled it and memorized it whilst Ambrose had patiently begun teaching her. Becoming one with the magic until she could not tell where the rituals began and she ended.

It was then that she began to speak. The words flowing from her with the ease of practice, her sire had been adamant about such things before risking her to the whims of shades.

The death light began to glow behind her eyes, her hair began to raise and whip as if in wind, gales of energy forcing from her mouth, over her tongue as her voice became deep and feral, something wild and ancient...

she felt the stinging blows of the fae as it attacked, her skin parting of its own volition as if in warning to ward her circle fiercer, do not let it pass! she carried on, the pressure in the air making it hard to draw in to speak, but that voice that was hers yet not hers became booming, power incarnate as her hands raised up palms pushed forward and demanded obedience in this.

The air cracked and she knew then the answer to her sire's question... she just... knew...

and the world went black as her nose and ears drained blood, her body falling back into Ambrose, oblivious to all but the screaming hunger and darkness...

"For you..." she was able to out, knowing he would glean the information from her mind as she slid into nothingness.

[Ambrose Acheron]

Tizoc nodded, plucking the disintegrating thought from her mind as it came. The spawn of female vampire, or one who had taken one as a lover was far from strange to him. He had aborted one recently, failed in the attempt and had sought a more efficient method in killing the creature. Normally he would feel nothing when it came to ridding the world of the abomination. It had hurt him a great deal to do so though due to the intervention of a Siren. The event was deeply personal to the ancient Allurist,

"Good," was the first word from his mouth as he set those remembrances from his mind, focusing instead upon the young vampire before him. "Very good. You set the altar correctly and used the words that bind as I showed you. Now I want you to try something that will involve more work. I want you to make this space complexly safe from violence. You may ask of those in your bloodline what is needed and procure the totems from them, but accept no outside help in this endeavor."

His age-old eyes watch the woman who, by rights. should be reveling in victory but instead has been given a daunting task.

"I want you to make this a safe place for all of our line."

[Noemi Michaux]

It wasn't until the blood ran against her lips, parting them to receive, that she opened her eyes to look up at her sire. If she had been of a more humourist nature she might have laughed out right... not because she scoffed at what he asked, but with joy that he believed she could do it.

as it stood she nodded and pushed upright, wiping the back of her hand over her lips, forcing herself not to lick her fingers clean like some wayward little beggar. She needed to feed, and soon, the ritual had taken much of her energy and left her limp and starving.

"It shall be done Sire." the words came easily to her, for as Noemi saw it her Sire was the gateway to Death and all the wonders beyond. She felt him deep inside her, his blood hers, his will was hers as well, and she knew that this family was everything. She had no idea how she would begin such a ritual, but she DID know she had reserves of power not yet tapped, pieces of herself she had not found yet... but she was working on that too in her own time. Piecing together family history from her lineage, ancient puzzles and cryptic writing making more sense to her as a budding necromancer...

she recognized other necromancers and witches in those family writings. Not vampiric like her, no... but what she was now, though more potent and powerful than they had been, could not have been without their genetics.

Beautiful and disheveled she braced herself against the wall beside the altar, her free hand running over the beauty of the stone, her voice soft and pensive... "Sire, you teach me these things, and from those teachings I understand much of what it is you wish to accomplish here.." Noemi paused so as to tread carefully here, but something in her dreams had commanded she speak... "I know how to do these things, the politics of it. I know what your Euro trash counterparts desire and how to speak to them. It is all movings upon the chessboard... if you took away the black squares." Noemi smiled faintly to herself as the sounds of the nights traffic and the hub of fear started to evacuate the streets outside, they were wise to scurry like rats. The owl took pleasure in plucking the harder prey.

"Think on it Sire... please."

She said no more, she knew with Ambrose when he was in his determined mood you said what you needed and nothing else unless asked. That was fine by her, it was how she had always been in any event. Words wasted could never be regained. Especially now that she began to learn the secrets of death... learned what she needed for Adam...how very close she was to his first breath...

A sultry turn of her head brought her gaze to her Sire's, and she acted then on her desire to be close to him. Blood singing to blood. She held out her hand toward him in a silent invitation to go hunt with his childe.

[Noemi Michaux]

"j'en ai ral le bol!" followed by the slamming of a book closed showed the exasperation of the Doctor buried beneath piles of tomes, ancient vellums and various sundries of study. Completely alone in her Sire's abode, separated from the familial and common areas of gathering, Noemi felt secure enough to spout the, for her, temper tantrum.

Quick to come and even faster to fade, the woman blanked her expression and leaned back in the wooden chair to view her new 'empire'. Never having been a problem student, Noemi had excelled in all of her years of schooling, formal and self indulged. But this... there had to be a better way to imbibe on the words of long dead ritualists and necromancers. This chaos caused feelings of intense discomfort deep in her mind, and it was all she could do not to scatter everything laid out before her. Minutes ticked by, the room of stone walls and floors, scattered rugs taking the harshness from steps and the single desk in the midst of rows upon rows of bookshelves seemed to close in on her.

She had fed recently, remembering the feel of that warmth, the surge of what could only be described as lightning as she filled her own dead husk with stolen vigor. She had come close to misstepping, so caught up in the dance she hadn't realized she was crushing her victim almost unto death, so close she had his body to hers... until remembering Ambrose behind her... watching... judging her growth and self control. Slowly so as not to jolt the man she had loosened her arms, licking over his neck for the last drops of fluid and sending him stunned and severely bruised off toward his apartment building. She had to remain in control, this was no game, no dark game that could be cheated and won.

Looking behind her, her chin resting upon her rounded shoulder, eyes downcast, she did not realize what an exquisite portrait of contriteness she presented. Flushed and once more looking vital, beautiful, she quietly assured him that she would continue to better herself. "I am most apologetic Sire..." she couldn't bear to see disappointment in his eyes so she made herself look... surprised to find him simply appraising her. No judgements to be made out on the face he chose to show today. "Dauphin de la Mort... mon Dauphin.." she turned then rubbing the pad of her thumb over her lip, blood leaving a slick wetness on her skin as she closed the distance between them. Her hand raised and she cupped his face against her palm, her bloodied thumb caressing his lower lip, sharing the tingle of blood pleasure with him...

Shaking her head of such reveries, Noemi narrowed her fierce gaze and picked up another tome, searching...

She HAD to find that ritual, her Sire desired and she would deliver. She was a second generation and knew Ambrose expected her to agent the position well. Example true nobility to their kind... though she only knew how others of her ilk behaved from the thoughts he placed into her mind... she would base her judgements from actual experience, but the knowledge he gave was invaluable to her plans.

"Make this home safe for our family, against all threat."

thy will be done...

and then she would begin her own dance, helping her Dauphin to turn this sorry territory into a political master work. The greatest in the city. It could be done. She knew it could.

Because she was the mastermind.

woe to the pawns and agents stacked against her. woe be to any in her way.

[Noemi Michaux]

Light seemed to be an ending commodity as the candles flickered and danced at the end of their wicks, pools of wax forming falls of color down the tables as the cool air hardened the liquid mid motion. She sat still, unmoving... in fact she might have been surprised to know she hadn't even taken a breath in hours, studying the mottled tome before her. Her eyes flickered in the candle light, the only thing moving upon her person until finally her brows drew together in exasperation, the need to put out new candles forcing her from her studies.

Candles were necessary unfortunately... though usually she enjoyed the soft ambiance, in this case it was a hindrance to her devouring knowledge. The tomes she had advanced to were so old that only certain lighting could be used less it damage the diabolic parchment and leathery skins. The scent had at first put her off, if leather could still go bad... well she imagined that is what it would smell like.

It mattered little. Standing finally from the table, an immense composition of hardwoods and square iron pegs, the piece was probably older than the city itself. Buffed and rubbed to a soft sheen by countless arms and hands, it carried a glow only antique wood could produce. Noemi reached behind her head and let down the high pins holding her hair back against her neck, the black sweep of it made a sighing sound in the quiet as if even her locks were glad of a break. Just about to close her work against the air, dust and whatever else conspired to delete the precious pages, she narrowed her gaze and leaned forward for a better inspection.

Three circles intersected each other on the page, Prisca Latinitas, an ancient and mostly forgotten form of Latin, was inscribed through the rings, overlapping with careful precision to combine a letter from one word with another. A cross roads of wards as it were. The entire page of worn and worm eaten vellum might have gone unnoticed but for a small inscription almost hidden into the etchings and lines making up what had to be an illustration of a torso being brought back from the shadow.

"ad praenuntia" was written in blood.

"For the Harbinger." she said softly, inhaling to speak she caught the blood scent from the words... which should have been impossible it was so old. Yet there it was as she took another breath to test it... and this blood scented as none she had ever known.

It smelled as if a god of pleasure, debauchery and deeds one could only do in the darkest of places had perfumed the vitae before using his own finger to write the inscription.

So heady was it Noemi closed her eyes and wavered towards it, like some spell had taken lead of her head and was pulling her strings closer to the fragrance. A few inches from the page and her eyes snapped back open and her brows furrowed as she caught herself about to test the words with her tongue.

Jerking backward she glared at the book trying to understand what the hell had just happened.

An age passed as she debated the reasons for her loss of self, reasons for her singular title to be left as a hidden guide in a tome that predated even her own illustrious lineage. This was not to be born without answers, the Doctor never liked being manipulated and liked less the thought that she had no reasonings but to walk a path already set for her.

Her anger began to mount, her fingers clenched into fists so tight the short crescents of well manicured nails began to force into her fleshy palm, a small dripping of blood beginning to make its way to the floor. How did this book even come to be here? What was she supposed to do with it?

Tamping down the growing emotion, she closed the book and picked it up, cradling it against the soft, supple curves of her breasts. She would ask Dauphin. And had better like the answer.

But first she needed to feed...

Walking out to the main area of her Sires home, Noemi put the book down for a moment to launch the laptop she had brought with her. Accessing crownet she looked at the various news threads and those of her ilk that needed dead. Now she was quite put out into a grand mal rage as she realized the city was in the beginnings of a mild panic.

"Insanity. Bunglers. Inept peasants!" she murmured under her breath. They had one job.

Keep the Masquerade at all costs.

Her exasperation so great now that had you looked carefully past the calculatingly bland expression, her pale skin seemed fair aglow with heated disgust.

Very well then. Turning again from the main room she headed to the sacrificial chambers, and for the first time that entire night, the woman lit with a very small smile. She was Necromancer. She would just feed herself by herself.

Though she would miss the terror of a proper meal.

[Noemi Michaux]

"Do as I say or suffer." his voice was dark and sultry, beautiful like a favourite song. It turned his threatenings into the obscene, to speak such vileness with such seduction. The woman tried once more to turn her head to the side, but the leather straps harnessing her to the X shaped cross had her immobile. She had no desire to open her eyes as he demanded, his face made her want to weep. At least in her self induced darkness she could pretend this was not her husband.

Marchand did not wait in her disobedience long. From behind the cross came a shuffling and an overwhelming stench of death and sewage. Limbs that were bloated, rotting, splitting long dead skin and loosing such liquid rot that she could not hold back a gagging began to wrap themselves around her nudity. Hands that should never have seen the outside of the grave began to cup and caress her, hissing breath snaked through her hair as she tried to endure this new horror.

Finally broken as those undead hands began to stroke her lips, working slowly to delve inside her mouth, she let out a sob and opened her eyes. Looking only at her husband, the only thought in her ravaged mind was a mantra of relief the monster was behind her.

"Why do you continue to purposefully provoke me my love?" he asked almost casually, his head tilted to the side as if truly curious as to what her answer might be.

He was still the most beautiful human she had ever seen. Inspiring countless artists to try and earn their place in history with his visage, as attested by the ever growing portraits throughout their manse. Hair the shade of dusk as the sky melted between the deepest blue and black, eyes the colour of onyx, eternally young and laced with whimsy... belying the horrors which lay behind them.

Oh how she cursed his eyes... his lying eyes...

Oh how she wanted to believe still that she was his love...

she sobbed in earnest now, her heart breaking for the millionth time, the horrors of this evening beyond her scope to comprehend, this monster she had married but two days ago...

this monster and his... minions... truly created from the very depths of Hell itself, patchworks of dead body parts lovingly sewn back into use, runes etched over every bit of exposed and rotting flesh, even their eyes... oh God their eyes...

no, no she could not dwell, the creature was now disengaging itself from her as she obeyed her loving husband...

"Darling, you know I do not wish to hurt you. I have told you how very special you are. Vital really. Why must you fight me?" he crooned, stepping closer to her. Close enough she could feel the heat of him, smell the scent of him... like earth and woods and rain... "You are more special than you know mon petit amor." he smiled then and it was ghastly. The smile of an angel about to do the service of his master and deal out death...

for that is what Marchand was, she knew this now, an angel of death, and she was in hell...

"Say the words darling. Just. Say. The. Words."

More shuffling came from behind her, and she knew that the next time the beast was used it would be in the place of where her husband only should be allowed. She began to wretch uncontrollably, unable to get that vision from her mind, ready to claw her own eyes out to remove the pictures, ah gods!

"Morsus ego sum. Ego sum via!" she screamed finally...

"I am the Harbinger. I am the Way!"

the beautiful green of her gaze began to dim as the room seemed to wrench in two spilling darkness and foul get upon her, filling her with a power she could never have imagined, never would have understood...

and then the world became so dark that she could finally see...

Noemi woke from her torpor screaming, clawing at her own eyes as she frantically tried to swim back from the dream that was memory of some distant time... she screamed until she began to vomit, dry heaving over the side of her bed, wretched in her helplessness to stop.

and then she screamed some more...

[Noemi Michaux]

"Was there anything else?" the tone of her voice was soft, cultured, the English woven with the French she was raised on. It should have been taken as the warning it was.

Some people really were too stupid to be allowed to live.

Perhaps coming out had been a mistake, but Noemi had been a fixture of her Sire's home... her home now as well... for far to long. She was restless, needed diversion. A drink... she had found finally the tome, the book containing the ritual Dauphin demanded. Night upon night had passed, her frustration mounting to unspeakable heights, her fingers stained with ink and dried blood...

And then there it was... her hand had glanced upon the spine and a thrill of electricity had punched through her spine... not quite painful but enough to make her yank her hand back and narrow her eyes at the Latin gracing the cover. Reaching for it again she was a little more careful, but the initial spark was not evident this time. Noemi had carefully pulled it from its home upon the shelf and opened it... and kept reading for hours before falling into torpor curled up around it.

She had done it. Found it... and the ritual... it was beautiful, evil, and perfect.

The things needed to perform it... well she would have to go to a few disgusting lengths to achieve them...

"I'd heard the French were rude in a sexy way, and aren't you living up to it." he smirked as he sat uninvited beside her. Her expression made no change, completely bored and laced with a touch of malice she just watched him as he made himself at home.

Alpha males. Despotic morons the lot of them.

Noemi had ventured out tonight, telling Dauphin she would be on guard, would be careful... she had made it these past few weeks without killing, drawing attention to herself and learning the laws of the masquerade. She knew she had control of herself again, though it was touch and go the first few times she had fed.

The nightclub had beckoned her as she walked the rain slicked concrete, no destination in mind, just going where her feet led.. soft jazz and tasteful lighting were just what she needed. True she couldn't imbibe, but she could enjoy the scent of a well aged scotch. Enjoy the warm bodies and heady scent of life...

It amused her that pulsing of life, knowing she could take it from them upon a whim... and give it back... of sorts... not that she would do so, she would never sire. The thought disgusted her. She was aware of her Dauphins disappointments, aware of the pain in others and would not tie herself down to a grubby little upstart who thought obedience meant not pissing on the carpet.

She could make her own servants from the silent dead. And that was perfect.

So the tall French woman, dressed in a Dior dress of black, tailored in such a way it seemed like ink poured over her curves, night hued hair left unbound to fall in waves down her back, had walked in.

She hadn't been seated more than five minutes before this lion want to be began to make himself at home. Which in her opinion was plain vulgar. Noemi had wanted to sit quietly and reflect upon the horrible dreams she'd been having... dreams that felt like memories... torturous things filled with vile details... she had wondered if finding the tome had been laced together with her nightmares...

But this idiot wasn't about to let her.

Well she supposed she should make the best of it, biting her tongue as her first reaction was a scathing retort meant to wither his manhood... perhaps it would be interesting to try feeding when she wasn't on edge to do so...

At least he wasn't awful to look at.

The Necromancer carefully and slowly changed her expression as he droned on about himself, turning the look of distaste slowly into one of interest, as if he had caught her in his net and was slowly reeling her in. As the music continued on she subtly began to lean closer, letting him believe she was becoming more and more receptive... she needed only murmur a few hollow words in response, he really was intolerably self absorbed... and she had him.

He licked his lips as he caught the darkness in her eyes, the way her head tilted to the side, her finger slowly circling the rim of her rocks glass, her gaze focused upon the firm lines of his lips...

She forced herself to become a bit breathy as they "shared' this heat, his own body shifting towards hers, his hand reaching to touch over hers as it rested against the glass. "Would you like to go somewhere more private?" he asked predictably...

And tonight was his unlucky night...

"Oui mon cher" she crooned, stroking his cheek with a single finger, stopping at his lips for the moment it took her to swallow as if caught in hot desire...

"Oui... take me..."

[Noemi Michaux]

He was so pretty she had to eat him. This thought wasn't in regret of it, in fact to look at Noemi you would be entranced by the soft smile, the angelic turn of cheek, the seductive sweep of lash as if seeing something beautiful and needed.

Walking slowly down the almost empty street, she took her time to home. She had no desire to end this euphoric feeling after her meal of alpha man. He had tried to seduce in ways that most likely had other women dithering in a rush to remove their undersilks. Noemi played along for the barest of time, the thought of a human touching her intimately made her skin crawl.

Noemi also had no desire to rush the evening because she dreaded the thought of her torpor dreams. Each night had been more terrifying than the last, debauched, evil, drenched in things even Gods of Chaos should shudder at attempting... and all of them she was certain were of herself in lives past.

Bits of the darkness during her death would rear head and prod the vampress further into KNOWING. She wondered if it were given in bits because it would break her mind otherwise. It was telling of who she was that this thought was more of a clinical study rather than a worry.

Her heels clicked softly upon the pavement, she felt very pleased with herself, she had left her bloodbag alive... and trust that had not been easy... she had found the spell she needed... and she had retained control of herself in a public place devoted to sinning in the dark.

There was nothing more stunning than the full smile she wore now, alone and finding little need to keep her expression blank, she hugged herself and did a little walk spin past a puddle of rain and cobblestone...

Except as her foot glanced through it, it splashed thick and red... and the scent... it was rancid.

Noemi stared at the puddle of blood for a moment, her mind turning quickly as she weighed and measured options. To investigate meant possibly death or worse, breaking the masquerade, to not investigate meant some threat roamed unchecked...

Noemi in that moment proved her Sire's choice in her correct as she narrowed her gaze to better see down the alley where something large, hunched and .... foul ... was standing, looking away from her and toward an upper window in an apartment building. She moved quietly to the edge of the building, shielding herself and flipped out her phone, simply punching in 911 and sent with her gps to her Sire.

what the hell WAS that thing???