Notelaih Saldores

The djinn's arms engulfed her and, of course, he was already holding her tightly when he noted his hope that the gesture was approved by the young woman who held him back and gave a slow nod of her head. "I have missed you too, Notelaih," she reciprocated, withdrawing her chin from his shoulder only so she might place a soft kiss to the side of his face, careful to place it on the height of his cheek bone, just beneath his eye. It did linger though, the shade of her make up would likely stain his cheek because of this.

The kiss was welcome, appreciated and sought after. He smiled into it, and his eyes turned from the amber they had to a dark blue on a starless night. 

He considered the question, eyes closed now as he enjoyed her company. Her physical form in his embrace, the closeness he’s missed but not been aware of how much until it was near him again. “Maybe a little at first,” he admitted. “But I suppose he’s different with you. Like I am. He is more of a stoic gentleman in my eyes, I simply had not expected it. I do not know what I did imagine. Perhaps a rugged rogue or a bearded and muscular prince. But scientist fits his form much better.”

There was a beauty in the chaos that she reveled in. It was easy to get lost among the sea of creature. There was something refreshing about being new again. Maybe it was just the fact that was the only experience she was familiar with or maybe it was just the excitement. Again, she didn't particularly care. It was a feeling she enjoyed, there was no reason to dig any further into it.

She smiled genuinely sweet at the new voice as she turned to face the man who had grabbed her attention. "Either you've got much too time on your hands or you're wildly observant. These streets aren't mine to claim yet." She stuck her hand out, "I'm Fiadh."

"Nice to meet you, Fiadh," he said, accepting her hand and giving it a gentle shake. "I'm Notelaih Saldores. And, what has brought you to the most infamous town of Destarin?" he asked, with amusement in his tone.

[[Closed Starter]]

@djinnoffire

Scylifino Ristorante had shut it's doors some hours prior, however between the closed slats, if one were looking, one might see the faintest, warm glow of life. Although the town's most romantic restaurant was closed to the public, a skeleton crew stayed on to attend to the whims of one Dracoth Scourge. The incubi paid well, and as was often the case, certain members of staff seemed mysteriously inclined to go above and beyond to please Dracoth.

Earlier in the week Dracoth had sent word to his long time friend and partner in crime Notelaih, inviting him to the restaurant after hours. The message had also suggested fasting in advance. A joke it might have been, but the warning was there nonetheless, and it was not without need.

Inaide, the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meats and spiced wines and the air was warm from the crackling fire. The one table in the restaurant still in use, groaned beneath the weight of dishes and bottles, flowers and spirit candles, leatherbound books and scrolls, and scrolls of parchments.

Dracoth was a consumer of most things, but there were some things, food being one of them, where he possessed an incredibly sensitive pallet. Meaning, he could be... particular...He was difficult to cook for and could be a nightmare when presented with sub standard food, however if done right (cooked right) a good meal was a fool proof way to win Dracoth's loyalty and respect.

The skeleton crew focused on final touches for the feast for two, while Dracoth stood by the hearth fumbling through the Bards Tale on a lute. A jack of all trades, a master of none, the lute was just another of many pass times sampled and adopted over the years. Dracoth would need more practice, but what he lacked in technique, he made up for enthusiasm. There was evident enjoyment on his face, a jovial smile and brows that came together and darted apart where the tune dipped and peaked. He looked almost childlike.

Still, when a noise at the entrance startled him out of his reverie, Dracoth looked up from his instrument, his eyes immediately searching for his friend, and the smile broadened.

"Ah, my freond!" Dracoth called out, tossing the lute to one side, narrowly avoiding an attendant bustling past with a tankard of ale. Oblivious to his own carelessness, the incubi darted forwards, his long limbs rippling beneath the ornately decorated tunic he wore. This evening, Dracoth had dressed for his company, thus he was adorned in rubies and emeralds. As he spread his long arms to offer an embrace for his friend, no doubt the jewels that draped around his throat would press into his companion, feeling cold and hard, a juxtaposition to the warmth emanating from Dracoth himself.

He appreciated Dracoth and his fancy ideas, and who was he to say no to a friend. So when the embrace was offered, he hugged the other. He was warm, a flame in the body of a man. “Friend,” he said, boisterous and smiling. “You have outdone yourself. Are we here to celebrate something or simply to indulge?” He asked. He too had taken out his finer outfit: a silk shirt with flames woven through the fabric, a heavy cotton low hanging pants that gave him free movement, and dark leather sandals. All of it fire proof.

"I broke our promise," she asserted. Unsure if it had ever actually been a true promise, one made on some solid vow, or if it had simply been something they'd said and taken as such. Regardless it didn't actually answer his question of how she had been in any direct sense, but surely he knew that meant how she had been feeling had surrounded the idea of breaking what she felt had been a vow not only to him but to herself.

She had wanted to be better, to stop running, and yet it still had seemed this immediate reprieve from a situation that felt painful that ultimately had not gifted her with any lasting comfort.

Stepping further forward once more she too began to feel that tension. Different than the kind they typically had between them that had always felt to the vampire like some elastic trying to retract. Now it was like one ready to snap, stepping forward relieving some of that.

"I have felt guilty on it, and ashamed," she indicated of this broken promises effect on her. "Not to say other things have not been well or unwell, but I am not sure compartmentalising everything is necessarily an effective solution," Bella added. She had been doing it for decades, after all. She could offer small children blessings and feel happiness when she had been an aasimar priestess and still find herself ready to break apart mirrors when her mother informed her of 'trips' across Withermore. Bella could enjoy her time with Valentin, appreciate Derya's return, and regret abandoning Notelaih.

"Valentin has been kind and...," Bella rolled off, unsure of the word to describe how he had been. Open or accepting seemed as though he was going out of his way for her but she knew he did not see it this way and didn't want to portray how he was behaving as effort to Notelaih when it was not. "Proactively present. His colleague has made her way back to him and is a friend so she has been of great comfort, though it has not helped what has happened. Silk and Quilt have not left my sides and I have not been in attendance at work much. I - I have worried on you," she admitted. She worried for all of them, even those within the council she did not know so much like Asvari. He had been strong in his approach with her but he had seemed genuine. He did not deserve death. Merry she worried would welcome such a fate with arms too wide.

Once more Bella stepped in to him, her wolf remaining close but not in protection from Notelaih, rather from anyone who might approach the pair of them, Bella's hand reaching for his like touching him once more might shift the tension between them back to what it had been before. "If only I were so old and wise as the rest of you, will you allow me another attempt at my word?" she asked him, soft pallid fingers hoping to attain his grasp once more, to feel his warmth channel up through her ever still veins.

“And I am here now, too.” He offered a smile. “You can always tell me what bothers you, I would not call myself old and wise, I am not like your Valentin. A creature set in my ways, I still fall into the same traps I did when I was younger.”

❝ Even now, ❞ was his reply, his eyes falling to watch flame-blessed fingers brushing against his own. Touch was a foreign thing to him, if it was not borne of necessity or violence. His dark eyebrows wove together as he considered the implications of such a touch — was it a warning? It felt like one. A power-play. A manipulation.

Kaladin could not trust, not yet. Not without certain parameters. He could not believe anyone wanted to touch him without selfish motive. So he withdrew his hand from the one outstretched and drew from his cigarette once more.

Before he has the chance to respond, the end of his cigarette is lit. Amused, he inhales deeply, filling his lungs to the brim with the familiar smoke of aged tobacco leaves. His head is cocked to the side when he exhales, the black pools of his eyes flickering. The only physical measure of his approval; if unobservant, it would be missed.

❝ My satisfaction is hard-won, I assume, because I've never been satisfied. But I like your answer. ❞ Another draw & exhale. Kal watches the Djinn through the curtain of smoke that separates them. ❝ Doing something for the enjoyment of it — that's a foreign concept to me. Everything I do is for survival. At best and rarely, then, for my amusement. ❞

He tried not to give it away. “I am glad you do,” the Djinn countered, as he plucked the smoke from the air and used it to create small detailed snake-like dragons. Perhaps that was too forward of him. But he had always liked to create dragons with his fire and smoke, to anyone who knew his shows this wouldn’t be much of a surprise. Dragons were creatures of great destruction, of fire that blaze hotter and more beautiful than that of the Djinn. 

“For survival? Surely you are not surviving every moment of every day?” he asked, as he let his hand fall slightly to touch the fingers that held the cigarette. 

When the act ends and they all begin to disperse, sounds of coin clattering in a tin can, their fanfare, the scalewalker finds himself lingering. His strong, sword-wielding arms crossed over his chest, he walks an invisible arc around the other. The hood that shadows his face keeps all but the curve of his lips hidden. ❝ With the talent you've exhibited, compliments must seem redundant to you. I'm more curious why someone of your ilk resorts to conflagrant dances for coin. Surely, there are more productive uses of your time. ❞ Kaladin can think of dozens of instances where such exacting arson might have helped his cause. And he would have paid a hell of a lot more.

Boots scuff cobblestone as he stops and levels his gaze.

And thus Notelaih was intrigued. Eyes shone, turning from their casual Emerald Greens to the colour of opal, signifying his interest.

He smiled. "The money is not why I do it," he admitted. Though it had once been. "I merely enjoy making a spectacle. I am a Djinn of Fire, you see, chaos keeps me young and alive, and there is no greater chaos than in the creation of art."

The young vampire stood outside of Merrymock's estate, the one he had claimed as Governor, a concept that now seemed relatively up in the air. He was likely inside, but Notelaih wasn't, and Bella had not seen him since their fight. She had attempted to see him a few times, but felt uncomfortable leaving letters at his home, and once the deaths of the council members became more prominent she had taken to remaining in the St John's estate for her own safety. This cause to leave was valid, however, and she intended to remain outside in the small garden of the modest home until Notelaih's arrival, even if it meant being in the line of sight for some potential killer.

Bella could defend herself, of course, hidden within the long cloak she wore, burgandy velvet draped around her dark hair as the cloak's hood hung over her, was a blade and yet it likely would have been the last thing she'd draw after her claws and her fangs, after her companions had taken their share of flesh from whoever came close. The wolves, as such, were with her. Each more alert than normal, one by her side, the other searching the grounds on behalf of the entire council. Regardless of if she could defend herself though, she was not stupid enough to be ignorant of potential danger when it could be avoided, which was why she had remained in her home with her sire.

Bella had stilled missed Notelaih.

This missing him became especially true when Valentin mentioned he had come by the estate to introduce himself. He had wished to try and know him and Bella had to assume that was for her benefit, even without asking further on the interaction she assumed it had gone poorly. Poorly to Notelaih, at least. Valentin had seemed rather indifferent, only mentioning it as Bella had asked about the deliveries that had arrived earlier in the day, arrived at the same time Valentin had dismissed Notelaih apparently.

One of her wolves stepped forward at the djinn's familiar scent stepping onto the estate, causing Bella to do so as well. The woman's hands, covered by lace from the length of her sleeves touching her knuckles, reached for the edges of her cloak's hood and pushed it back over her shoulders. She looked quite herself, cream skin of her collarbones appearing as soft as the velvet, the lace dress contouring her form. The only evident difference was that, unlike her typical attire, the base of her garment was not half so worn away as it normally was. Both an indication she had not left home in some time, and that she'd had more time to devote to her work.

"Notelaih," she spoke at his arrival, unsure how her presence would be taken. Should he simply tolerate her there because decisions needed to be mad? Did he miss her too? Was he angry she had not seen him since she had become distressed by his words?

And he remained at a loss.

Meaning there was a serious flaw on his own part that he was overloooking.

He'd considered time and time again to go to Bella, to ask her if she could explain it to him. But every time he worried if this would only drive them further apart. So he continued to figure it out. Or to attempt it.

And while they were doing a similar job, their paths rarely crossed.

Until they did.

"Bella." He couldn't help but smile, something about her always set his heart in motion, it grew the heat that was already at the core of his being. He'd once admired her, and that admiration had turned to more once he'd actually gotten to know her.

He knew no other being at this moment who he cared for more.

Then a carriage came by and the Djinn realised he did not know how to properly end this conversation - he’d need reading material on Alchemy if he wanted to catch the other’s attention, he decided. Perhaps the occupant of the carriage would allow for him to cut out. Instead, someone with a connection to Valentin jumped out. He considered his options, then turned to the friend of Bella with an apologetic smile. “I’ll have to take my leave,” he said. “Perhaps before I go I can help your friend get everything from the carriage?” he offered.

It should have comforted her to know that nothing she could say would upset him and yet it did not, as he explained that he desired discovery it made her feel rather unimportant, an odd sense she had fallen for the trickery of a djinn, and ultimately, more protective of her thoughts on Valentin. He was a private person, to think her emotions, opinions or knowledge on him would be feeding another's nature did not feel like something he would be comfortable with. "I shouldn't like to," she responded, "telling you of him sounds as though I would be betraying his personal agency for your desires. Something I would not do in reverse."

His smile was sad, reminding her of the one she'd had when she'd given him his gift. It felt as though the two were level with each other, standing face to face, like they should be able to see one another clearly, and yet one stood in darkness and the other in blazing light, each blinded in a way. If she had not already thought they were ill equipped to deepen their connection she did in this moment, her heart aching at his words because she had come to care for him. She would not have come to his home, she would not have warned him of her temporary distance, if she had not. So his words stung her small heart, betrayed by his words and perhaps hoping she misunderstood them.

"I must not understand it because it does not sound selfless when you put it that way," she responded, the words causing Bella to step back because they didn't feel honest enough for the gesture accompanying them, his fingers feeling out of place on her skin as he explained how he worried she could not fathom his selflessness. "It sounds like your version of devouring me and asking me to be grateful for it," Bella responded, her eyes darkening as the muscles around them tightened, the soft mossy hue offset by the sharpness of her gaze.

He laughed and yet she could not. She had felt him selfless for so long, because her boundaries being respected felt so uncommon to her. The decency of the act seemed something she should be grateful for. "Should I be endeared you enjoy my vanity and selfishness but cannot see it on yourself?" she returned, her words hurt as her shoulders curled further around herself, muscles in her back tight but unable to truly affect anything without her wings. "I think them painted on you in this moment, lacquered in a shining coat of pride."

She did not wish to answer his question on what element of herself she felt the most beautiful, his laughter feeling like mockery now. Like answering would only further give parts of herself away. She had allowed compliments of her craft to blind, shame rising in her stomach like acid wrapping around the twisting knife. It hurt so much she could only be grateful for the fact she did not feel hunger as others of her kind did, did not have that same rush to rage filled violence. "I do not imagine you heard any unkindness in your words," she spoke with her hurt heart. "So I do not wish to be angry, but you have hurt me and I feel it growing. I think I should take my leave."

In her company he felt like he could be himself, to voice his fears as she did hers. He felt like he did not simply discover another being, but that Bella had wished to know him too. He knew she loved his eyes, but he thought she would give him the same understanding as he had her. That even if she could not fully comprehend it, she would not wish to change him.

Instead he was hit by a sudden fear that he’d shown too much of himself and Bella could never live with not understanding him. He did not work the way one of her kind did. It did not mean his love for her, his devotion to her, his awe of her, nor his affection towards her were nothing.

He watched her carefully and nodded. Perhaps it was not in the cards for him to have the kind of love most beings craved. He offered her a sad smile and bent in on himself. “I will not keep you if you wish to leave,” he said, turning his eyes from her because looking at her made him sad.

He felt misunderstood and judged. He felt like he had given himself once again to someone who would never have him the way he was. Even if she had given him the feeling like she would. And with it came the growing feeling that perhaps it was time for him to move on. Seek out a new place to settle. Start over.

He remained standing there as he waited for her to leave.

The young woman gave a wave of her hand at the notion of it being interesting enough to pursue. She could admire Valentin and make no sense of it herself. "I would not attempt to venture into it again, not for a long while," she explained of her own intentions with it. "I do not think I had the foundation for it, any of his books I would attempt only furthered my confusion, so I focused on talents I already had and furthering them." Maybe one day this would change, when Bella had aged and had a better understanding of the basics but for now she was contented by what she was choosing to educate herself with and Valentin did not seem concerned their passions did not perfectly align, after all, he had those he had worked with who he barely spoke on or cared for.

"Not jealous," no 'jealous' was not the word for what she thought he would be. It was similar but not quite what she concerned herself with. "If you are jealous you'll be jealous no matter what I say," Bellamy reasoned of why she did not concern herself specifically with jealousy. "More like I do not wish to turn a knife." Bella had already told him she intended to pursue things with Valentin and not with himself, why turn the knife by talking about how wonderful he is?

The gesture was soft and kind and Bella smiled into it. "Why would I not think so?" she asked him, unsure of the origin with which he'd assume she did not believe this. At least externally she'd never questioned it and internally she felt she probably knew it better than Notelaih did. He hadn't seen her hunt, an act she was unsure how he would feel about, but when she did? Well then she was closer to ethereal than she had ever been as Aasimar. "Perhaps the more you peel back the more vanity you will find," she laughed against his hand, not that she believed it was vanity. Bella just didn't think beauty was important enough to doubt in ones self, inside or out.

She was correct, though he barely had a jealous bone in his body. Whereas his kind was often at the mercy of others, enslaved to their desires, to their orders and commands, Djinn themselves rarely owned a thing. Notelaih did not think he ever had the right to another person, and he knew what it was like to be in someone’s servitude, so he’d also never wish it upon another. He was a being who longed to be free, thus he left others free as well. Even if it would hurt him to know they would not be as close and he’d desire they be, it was not jealousy. “I will not push you to do so if it makes you uncomfortable, but I don’t feel these emotions the same way another might. I’m a Djinn, much of my life I’ve lived for others, it is in my being to do so. To serve, to raise the next generation once I perish and return to the desert. I value discovery and awe, to experience, not to dwell on what I cannot experience.” He smiled. “Thus to know what you value in Valentin does not turn any knife, it merely offers another window for me to see you through. The company we keep says a lot about us.” 

Following the question, Valentin in his usual manner, did not deign to reply quickly. He always took time at his own leisure, with a life eternal he had no need to hurriedly respond in the way mortals did without hardly a break or pause for thought and so it came to be that everything that Valentin did decide to speak had been well considered.

Valentin decidedly opted not to respond to the question nor even acknowledge it, it was boring and would only confirm what was evidently already known and so ultimately unnecessary. "You can drop the platitudes and pleasantries," came his reply, "I abhor small talk," his attention now directed to producing a small metal tin box from his inner coat pocket and from it drawing out a pre-rolled cigarette which was then placed between his lips and ignited by touching the tip to what appeared to be a small pebble that glowed orange. The tin box with the rest of his cigarettes and pebble were returned to his pocket as thin smoke was exhaled, appearing to almost shimmer before it was filtered away by the light breeze. As a vampire, naturally he did not need to breathe and only did so in this moment for the purpose of smoking as so many things he did or took part in had meaning and if there was no viable purpose then he simply did not do it, simple things like miming human life were therefore forgone, such as feigning to breath or blinking; his gaze constant and unrelenting, reprieve from it only found when he decided to look away.

His smile returned quickly however. “Apologies, I’m afraid it’s very much my person to leap onto small talk,” he said. “I’ll try to tone it down.” 

"'In' might be generous," she answered his query, still lingering her touch to her sides. Certainly it was not the same as being outside in the sun, not from her memories of it, but it was still better than him having to wait until sunset to see her if he wished too. "But yes, we could walk by the windows and look at it," Bella nodded in partial affirmation.

At the notion he was a magician Bellamy had almost laughed though, she was sure he'd have ignored the playful comparison and simply focused on what he was. "He is an alchemist, it is science, yes, but with magic tied into it. Far superior to both magicians and scientists," she insisted of the man's qualifications from both the work and experience he had been cultivating for far longer than she had been alive. "Observing him work is almost as complex to understand as what he works on. I -" Bella could have gone on but she realised it was perhaps not something that would engage Notelaih as it engaged herself. It would have been cruel to keep going. "I am very lucky he was able to turn me without those awful compulsions to hunger."

Notelaih wasn’t sure if she noticed the pride she radiated by her favourable look upon the science and magic that her maker did. Or maybe he read into it. It was a kind of compliment he’d make for his former masters, when in company of others, when his love for them was so grand that he had only good things to say about them. “I have heard of alchemy,” he stated. “I’ve never truly ventured into the subject, but it does sound interesting.” He’d never consider himself a scientist, but he did have the mind of someone who wished to make sense of the world, who liked experimentation. His ability with fire meant he’d set many things aflame, and he’d tried to see what he could do with it. 

Her comment about herself made her sound like she was an experiment, that she was a test subject rather than a person. But given how much she seemed to love him, Notelaih made no comment on it. “I don’t mean to disrupt your trail of thought,” he said. “You cut yourself off? Are you afraid I’d be jealous?” he asked, but he asked it as someone who only wanted the other to feel like any subject between them was allowed, that he would not hold anything against her. He wanted her to be herself in his company. “Unless you’d rather wait to make me jealous another time,” he teased.