SANGUINE, MY BROTHER.

       ‘ greetings  ,  father.  what brings you to the sanctuary  ?  ‘

        she dares not call him father amongst the assassins that live in this very sanctuary  —  her children of sithis to whom she is their surrogate mother.  she takes them under her wing  ,  lovingly trains them in the ancient craft of walking alongside the shadows.  she cannot help but remember back to when lucien did the same for her and teinaava  —  his blunt words of encouragement molding her into the perfect killer.         like father  ,  like daughter.

he    is    INFINITELY    proud    of    ocheeva,    even    if    he    does    not    show    it    in    the    way    that    most    might    expect    ;    even    if    he    does    not    see    her    and    her    brother    as    often    as    he    might    like.    he    hopes    she    knows    this.    ❝    BUSINESS,    of    course,    my    dear    child.    i    have    a    letter    for    our    brother    m’raaj    -    dar.    ❞    of    course,    that’s    not    a    reason    for    the    speaker    of    the    black    hand    to    show    up    to    the    sanctuary    ------------    but    he    has    missed    his    family.    it    has    been    a    while.    

         IT IS A NATURAL BOON, TO BE ACCUSTOMED TO THE DARK, and one not shared betwixt them; at least in close proximity, in the immediate, vicente can see more clearly than in daylight ( searing, blinding thing it is ) though the distance yet still fades into the cold embrace of the unknown. so perhaps there is truth in it, that it’s more than a funny little falsehood.          how little it would take to discern it! how little it would take to draw proof! a brief draw upon stored power could reveal the darkness, flay it openly beneath his discerning eye and draw attention to all that may threaten in nebulous, swirling, lavender aura — but then again, that would kill the joke, one he fully intends to draw out to its fullest. it’s an execution he would findunpalatable.            “ such abundant, sincere and selfless concern —— i’m touched. the your love of family is going to find you sacrificial on the altar one of these days, mark me. ” so flips the switch into sincerity — another facet of the humor, the way he’s toying with it and dragging it along as a cat plays with a carcass. a hand extends to cement his false candor, stopping as a light and friendly comfort on lucien’s forearm. “ you’ll underestimate yourself. you are now. can you not see it’s from your gift of presence that i may assuage the fear? do you feel i think so lowly of you, mydearest family member? that you can’t handle a man with a sword? ”

❝    of    course,    i    am    grateful    that    you    have    such    faith    in    me.    ❞    as    if    you    couldn’t    SINK    A    SHIP    in    the    blood    lucien    has    spilt,    as    if    lucien    wasn’t    once    one    of    the    greatest,    most    dedicated    young    killers    that    the    brotherhood    had    ever    raised.    that    being    said    ...    vicente’s    praise    makes    lucien    smile    more,    perhaps    because    he    thinks    the    other    man    won’t    see    it    in    the    dark.    deep    down    he    knows    that    he    will,    but    it    doesn’t    matter.    because    lucien    is    not    as    STOIC    as    he    would    like    to    lead    the    newer    members    of    the    family    to    believe.    

         AT FIRST ; A HALTING — when he freezes, it is not any single motion, but the sudden and eerie absence of movement at all. he stays like that for a few moments; enough for the stillness to be recognized, then drawn out in a sort of uncanny tableau. the first movement hits the dim light and shines off of it: the crack of the lips and spreading smirk that glints merriment and violence in equal parts. it blooms like blood on the linen ‘round a stab wound.          “ is that a joke, lucien? ” his whisper is hushed, clandestine, tinted in shades of disbelief that err on the side of teasing. without the levelness of the words, the smile looks nearly manic. it is not aided by their closeness. on a normal day, vicente must look upwards at him, but this is a craning of the neck for the line of sight to meet even the edge of lucien’s face.  an upward tilt of the jaw turns his mirth wolfish, the dark glee in it unable to stay too hidden even in the darkness of the room itself. “ are you making a joke with me? i have to assume you’re joking. ” 

❝    PERHAPS.    ❞    to    most    people,    being    alone    in    a    room    with    a    vampire    would    be    unsettling    at    best    and    terrifying    at    worst,    but    lucien    would    trust    vicente    with    his    life,    no    matter    what.    ❝    it    is    quite    dark    in    here.    anything    could    jump    out    at    us,    perhaps    with    a    sword.    so    i’m    asking    -----------    are    you    scared    ?    ❞    it’s    so    hard    to    keep    a    straight    face.    he’s    clearly    struggling.    of    course,    he    could    just    use    a    spell    to    bring    light    to    the    room,    but    where’s    the    fun    in    that    ?