Non Ducor, Deco

He had never meant to do something like this - hire a prostitute for his first time, stoop down to this level - but it had come to the point where he was just so damned lonely, where all he wanted was the touch of a soft hand against his cheek, perhaps the caress of lips to his own.

So he had called Munuth.

The company was held in high regards, apparently. The website was sleek and discreet. The phone had been answered by a well-mannered woman with a slightly hoarse, lilting voice, who had asked him what he wanted, what he liked. It had been a question Varga had had to think about for a moment - no one had ever cared much.

No one had asked.

He had been honest about the fact it had been his first time. He saw no use in lying about that - why would he? He wanted a great experience. She could only give him that if he was honest to the woman who was meant to pleasure him.

And now he stood in front of the expensive hotel room door, a golden key card in his hand, but he still knocked.

Why yes, hello there~

An extravagant bow follows.

              𝚅𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚅-   𝙷𝙸𝚂   𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴   𝙲𝙴𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙻𝚈   𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶   𝙰   𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙻     -a resemblance in his eyes she did not like to be reminded of. Questions arose, but remained hidden behind thin lips. Instead Helga chose to ignore his words implying she should show more gratitude   &   perhaps she should have, but this trip had been unforeseen and most unwelcome. They could not blame her for her foul mood   &   if they did she would be sure to make them shut up before her mood would endanger the semi good relationship her coven still had with this one.

     The Queen offered but a simple nod as an understanding of his latter words- the tiniest hint of relief washing over her features. It was not a bed she needed- a chair would be enough to give her body a little rest, albeit it being a comfortable one unlike the cars that had brought her here from the haven. Travelling by boat definitely was not her favourite, despite the  ‘luxurious’  cabin she had been given amongst many humans who had no idea who–  or what  –had joined then on board.

     ❝   Then lead the way, but do not forget to do the same for my people– they have made the same journey and exhausted is plaguing them just as much as it is affecting my body at this point.   ❞     She cared about her people, kind   &   peaceful. Unlike the dark clothes Varga and his death dealers were wearing her own were clad in white. Harmless to the eye, but these people would be wise not to antagonise them. Her kind was swift, the Northern waters bringing gifts many here would not understand.

     ❝                    quite rude to call for a meeting on my arrival.   ❞

             He could see in her eyes that she had captured that same resemblance that he hated so much. It was true, he did look like Victor, as much as he claimed not to, and their relationship was not easy to hide, even if the leader of their coven had never accepted the death dealer luitenant as his own. He had been asked, of course, and every time he had told them that Varga was nothing to concern themselves with. Nothing at all.

              Varga did not even know his own past, remembered scarcely anything before his life as a vampire. He supposed he must have been born to a human mother and knew that he was about 250 years old by now, but the knowledge ended there. Victor had shared nothing with him, either, claiming that it was not of any importance for him to know.

               It had made him bitter, and the manner in which this Queen was treating him did not make it any better. Nevertheless, obedience and servitude had been beaten into him. By his father. By Semira. He would never speak against a guest and as such, he bowed again.

               𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚃   𝙳𝙾𝚄𝙱𝚃   𝙰   𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙵𝚄𝙻   𝙹𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚈     -one she had rather avoided to make. Why she had come were reasons kept silent by both coven   &   council- disguised as a trip any elder would take during their wake moments. For decades she had not left her halls, content with the crisp snow beneath her feet, cold blood the only thing that would touch her lips. Content with the peace kept high by the thick walls surrounding Var Dohr. No Lycan set foot there, and in the minds of most young vampires the place was but a myth ignored   &   forgotten by most. Just the way she liked it. She ruled together with Vidar, head of her own council. Queen- an ancient title that did not hold much meaning in these parts, yet a chuckle fled upon hearing it fall from the boy’s lips. Good instructions, but he did not speak them with much enthusiasm                           pity.

     Shoulders pushed back, a soft cracking noise sounding to those standing close. A dreadful journey it had been indeed. Ever since the Lycan attack on the train that had taken Amelia from the Nordic Coven other means of transport had been introduced                            without doubt more safe, yet lacking any  comfort. The woman’s shoulders felt heavy- something that did not improve her mood. Disinterest was painted across her features as she stepped out of the car, fur-lined robes touching the floor.

     ❝   We ? I don’t see anyone from the council here to welcome me.   ❞     Not something she had expected to happen, truth be told- but still rather disappointing if they were so determined to get her here as fast as possible. The woman stepped forward, waiting for a few of her coven members to follow. After all these years she never fully trusted the covens in this part of the world. Too much bullshit having happened here in the past few decades.     ❝   You could have given me your name at least, boy, if you have been demoted to function as the welcoming committee here.   ❞     A rather cruel statement, yet it was mental exhaustion that sounded in Helga’s voice.     ❝   I am sure you have been instructed to get me to see the council before I can retreat to my rooms ?   ❞

           Well, that was awkward, and not in a good sense. He had encountered women like this before - by Hell, she reminded him a little of Semira, with her haughty attitude and her travel-worn voice - but something about her told him that it was an act, that it was not as she usually chose to be, and that intrigued him because why would one feign indifference and cruelty when one was not. He gave another quick bow, and looked her in the eyes, now, if only to show her that he had shown worse guests.

          "The council is in meeting, but I am the leader of the Death dealers, and as such I am very much well equipped to handle our esteemed guests, Queen Helga," he said. His voice was cool as he caught her eyes. He did not fear her, "and my name is Varga Vayev, protector of this coven."

           That he was. Protector of the coven, of its leaders. He had been raised and sworn in to do only that. He was proud of his job, proud of his worth, his task, but this woman obviously did not take him seriously. That was her loss, he told himself, and she would soon see that the coven held him in high esteem, that he wasn't some bellboy they used for lesser tasks. She should be honoured that they had asked him to free his time to see to her wellbeing.

             He stood waiting for her to arrive, as per his orders. Varga did little more than following orders these days, and this had been an important one. Both Semira and Victor had stressed as such. It was not often that they received a leader from another coven, let alone one from the North. Varga had never been there, but he had heard from others that it was a cold and dreadful. Frankly, he just wanted this woman to leave as fast as she came, without stirring up trouble. There was enough of that without strangers on their doorstep. Neither Victor or Semira had told him why she was here, and that made him even more anxious about the whole ordeal.

answered for @theboatbuilderswife

answered for @theboatbuilderswife

          “Well, this is the fourth time that happened since you came to the Eastern Coven,” he supplied smoothly, his hand catching hers as he helped her up. They were both in Death Dealer garb, although his fit like a glove and hers had been borrowed from the catacombs. He had decided that an afternoon of sparring would be enough to get rid of the excess energy he felt whenever he was around her, but now started to doubt that tremendously seeing that his body just seemed not to calm down whenever he was close to her.