#vanaline

From left to right: Rynd, Kasten Renclift, Aurelia Len, Vanaline Lariaea, Corin Nelant

First up, front and center:

Aurelia Len

Of this little disfunctional group, Len is the leader. She is a summoner, and the other four are her familiars. Len is selfish, and looks out for no one but herself. While Len would describe herself as pragmatic or above sentimentality, others might choose words like “heartless” or “cruel.” As a summoner, she has created contracts with people and creatures from around the world and from worlds beyond. She enjoys nothing more than winning, except possibly seeing her enemies lose, and enjoys keeping powerful familiars to fight for her. When she fights, she wants to be up close and personal, because when she runs you through, she wants to see the look in your eyes when you’ve been beaten as you die. She never uses her first name, and people who do use it tend to get pincushioned rather quickly. 

Rynd

Most of the time, Rynd looks rather different from the pictures above. She’s a shifter and has the ability to change her form. Besides her base (humanoid) form, she has two “shifts” a feline shift, and an avian shift. She can mix and match these two forms anyway she likes, which makes her a griffon shifter. Most of the time, she likes to stay in a large shift, about the size of a panther but with long, dark wings. (She usually avoids the traditional avian-headed griffon, because she thinks teeth are scarier than a beak). If she doesn’t need to carry anyone or rip someone apart though, she’s also been known to shrink down to the size of a little, winged kitten and perch on a shoulder for an easy ride. 

Rynd has been Len’s familiar the longest, and the two are very close. She’s fiercely protective of Len, and will personally put her claws into anyone who threatens the abrasive summoner, even if Len probably deserved the threats.

Kasten Renclift

(sorry no cool pictures because guy dollmakers are few and far between and I can’t draw. The picture above is fairly accurate of him.)

Kasten is angry, sullen and temperamental, but it’s mostly Len’s fault. He wasn’t always her familiar, and she managed to get ahold of his contract illegally, a crime for which he can never forgive her. She abuses him horribly, “sparring” with him - which isn’t unusual behavior for a summoner/familiar pair - but Len’s spars for him are always a fight to the death. If he loses, she kills him, which is made even worse by the fact that he won’t really stay dead, and she can just resummon him at any time and kill him again. As her familiar, his weapons can’t hurt her and just pass right through her skin and clothes painlessly. But she’s made him a deal though, that if he can hit her with a “killing” blow, she’ll desummon him painlessly. It doesn’t happen very often. He hates her for treating him the way she does, he hates himself for being unable to beat her, and hates the world for putting him in such a position.

(He and Len are basically way in spades for each other oops.)

Vanaline Lariaea

(Second pic source: badhoruss who is awesome)

The newest of Len’s familiars, Vanaline is beautiful, seductive, and sadistic. She enjoys manipulating enemies with her powerful, hypnotic voice. On her homeworld of Syiari, she works as a high-class executioner, hypnotizing convicts into killing themselves through the use of her complicated, mind-controlling songs. Her “concerts” are well-attended social events back on Syiari; entertainment that is both bloodsport and high-art combined. As a seraph, she has three sets of wings, a large pair which take up her entire back, a longer, thinner pair extending from her hips, and a small pair on her head.(The picture is inacurate, but dollmakers: whatcha gonna do?) She and Len get along far too well for anyone’s good.

(Also apparently half of the people who know about my characters ship her and Len together in a “let’s have makeouts and be really mean to Kasten at the same time” sort of way. So if you see me crying that someone’s shipping Vanalen you’ll now know what’s up.) 

Corin Nelant

(No cool pictures for the same reasons as Kasten. The picture above is fairly accurate, but Corin’s hair is shorter. It does that cool color thing though!)

Probably the kindest of the four familiars, Corin is very polite and caring, though he acts rather serious and matter of fact while on the job. He follows orders incredibly well and is thorough in everything he does, but he tends not to go above and beyond in his tasks when Len is the one asking. He doesn’t care much for her, and finds the way that she doesn’t care about others and breaks the law aggravating, but he’s been ordered to obey her by his superiors, so he’ll do what she says. On his homeworld of Kandiar he is a palace guard for the royal family of the nation of Jaiset. As a Jaiseti, he is dependent on the sun, which gives him strength and heals his wounds, however not getting enough sunlight will make him sick. Being a familiar is a job to him and he’ll do what he’s supposed to, whether he likes it or not.

Len teases him for constantly using titles with other people, but it’s a holdover from his culture and he sticks to it whenever he can. He’s married and has two children back on his homeworld, so speaking to anyone without using a title would be either disrespectful or much too intimate. So he doesn’t. He worries quite a bit about the things that Len orders him to do, but he has been assured by priests back on his homeworld that the sins of his actions fall to her. He’s growing less and less sure about it however.

——

---

Kasten scrambled through the abandoned halls of the mansion, climbing over loose piles of stone bricks and charred timbers. They were after him, and he didn’t have much time. Len had said a five-minute head start, but knowing her, it would probably be more like two. Just when he’d thought that Len had found the most terrible thing she could do to him, she came up with something new and horrifying. Such as today’s exercise: a twisted competition between the summoner and Vanaline. First person to find and kill the target won.

And no one was surprised to find out who the target was.

He picked the passages that looked the hardest to get through, halls where the ceilings had collapsed or walls had fallen in, hoping the debris would slow down his pursuers. He took a running leap at a large pile of rubble, cursing as the felled support beam he tried to grab crumbled in his hand, rotten through. He tried not to think about the night this wing of the mansion had been torn apart and left to grow over and rot away. Even only seven years later, plants were beginning to claim the ruins, small vines climbing amongst the rubble.

He half-climbed-half-fell down the other side of the obstacle, catching himself with his hands against the floor even as he started to sprint again. He’d chosen to try hiding in the mansion ruins for a reason. Len and he had both lived in this house for years, even before this half of it had been destroyed. She knew its hallways and hiding spots almost as well as he did, while Vanaline was new and stayed away from the ruined areas whenever she could. His choice of location tipped the scales the scales in Len’s favor for their horrific competition.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was hoping that Len would be the one who found him first. He’d never have thought that a day would come when he would choose Len’s methods of dealing with him, but anything was better than what Vanaline would do if she got the chance. What shreds were left of his sense of self-preservation made him shiver at the thought of Vanaline being the victor.

He ducked into a shadowed alcove, his lungs burning as he tried to catch his breath. It wasn’t the most defensible position, but hopefully he’d be able to hear either of his pursuers approaching. He kept his hand on his sword, not planning on going down without a fight.

Listening carefully for sounds of pursuit, he sent a thought at Tiora, knowing she probably wouldn’t respond. Len would have threatened her to keep her from interfering but he couldn’t help himself. Where are they? Who’s closest? Which one is going to get to me first?

He watched the hallway he’d come from carefully. Behind him was the remnants of a room whose far wall had collapsed, the opening leading out of the house and into the forest. He thought about making a break for it, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to abandon the fortifications yet for a chase through the woods. So long as they were in the house he had some kind of cover.

He almost jumped as Tiora’s message sounded in his head, short and concise: It’s Vanaline. I’m sorry.

He heard a footfall on the floor behind him and his grip tightened on his sword. The sound hit him before he had time to turn. As the seraph’s single note paralyzed him, the unwavering tone holding him fast. She came from outside! How did she know where to find me?

The note became a simple melody, and he felt his feet move at the song’s command, turning him to face the singer. Vanaline stepped across the floor toward him, smiling slightly as she sang. Her dark wings were open in a relaxed position behind her, and the hem of her dress nearly brushed the dusty floor as she stepped over fallen bricks and stones.

“It appears I have won,” she sang, in a light melody that floated over her paralyzing base tone. He could feel the power of the music’s hold on him ebb slightly as her words meshed with the song, but not enough for him to break free. While the note was slightly less strong when she spoke, Vanaline wouldn’t risk talking if she couldn’t keep control. He wasn’t going to escape just because she decided to gloat, unfortunately. She was too skilled for that.

“Any comments before I claim my victory?” she asked. Her ongoing tone shifted slightly in pitch, and Kasten felt the song’s influence lift from his face. His body was still under her control, but he could speak now, at least. Among other things…

He immediately spit at her, wishing that glaring at her was enough to make her stop. She frowned slightly, the small wings on her head flapping once as her eyebrows rose. She shook her head at him, like he was a child who had misbehaved.

“Force my hand then, harpy… if you must,” Kasten struggled to say. The song’s influence was harder to speak through than he’d expected, though she’d lessened its power. “But make it quick. And keep your songs out of my head.”

Before responding, she added a quick dual melody over her tone, and his hand moved to do the song’s bidding, pulling his sword from its sheath and holding it before him. He felt his heartbeat quicken, but tried not to let his fear show. He’d died enough times to be used to it, but dying on his own sword was a new experience for him.

Still singing, Vanaline stepped forward, inspecting his blade carefully as he held it before him. Then her eyes flicked up to meet his, and he felt a jolt. “Why ask me to leave your mind alone?” she sang. “I could make you feel no pain. I could fill you with the sweetest pleasure if I wished. Why do you wish to suffer when you could enjoy this?”

“Enjoy slitting my own throat?” Kasten said, wincing as a series of notes moved his arm to place the blade at his neck. Vanaline’s song grew stronger again, and he could feel his ability to speak slipping away. “You’re… an abomination… you feathered…” A sharp chord closed his mouth with a snap before he could finish that statement.

Her song dipped into a sinister minor progression as she leaned close to speak again. “If you spurn my offer of an easy end, I can create within you a more excruciating pain than you ever believed possible. The worst that Len has ever accomplished will seem sweet as a lover’s embrace when I’m through with you.”

Something hit his back with a solid thunk and he fell forward. Vanaline cut off in surprise as he was thrown toward her. The song’s influence evaporated, and Kasten managed to get his hands underneath him to break his fall slightly. At his impact with the ground, a bright flash of pain blossomed from where he’d been hit. A knife… he thought, recognizing the sensation. I didn’t even feel it going in…

“You cheated,” an annoyed voice said as booted footsteps approached. Len, finally finding the two of them. Kasten didn’t usually feel grateful when Len stabbed him in the back, but anything that stopped Vanaline’s singing was something to be thankful for. He could still feel his legs, so it seemed the knife had missed his spine at least.

“And the pathetic thing is,” Len continued, stopping a few paces behind where Kasten lay, “you might have gotten away with it if you hadn’t decided to indulge your need to be dramatic.”

“You accuse me of cheating?” Vanaline’s voice dipped into a saddened minor key, the music reinforcing her feigned hurt. “I have done no such thing. I broke no rules.”

Hoping his two would-be murderers were distracted arguing, Kasten pushed himself up to hands and knees, starting to crawl toward where his sword had fallen. Every movement sent waves of fire through his back, but he forced himself to keep going.

“It’s not a hunt if you know where the target is, Vanaline. Forcing Tiora to tell you where he was hiding was obviously out of line!”

Kasten’s arm buckled and he fell to the floor again, looking at the two women. “Tiora?” He asked, though the word was little more than a groan. “She… told you…?”

“Don’t act so upset,” Vanaline said, her melody sounding amused as the key moved into major again. She wasn’t keeping up a continual song as she had been before, but simply spoke with her normal sing-song manner. “She tried to hold back, to keep your hiding place secret, but the girl is terrified of me. Her will hardly stood a chance. It required very little persuasion on my part before she told me everything I needed to know.”

Kasten felt a protective anger rise in him. “If you did anything to her…” The words were almost a growl.

Len scoffed. “She sold you out to Vanaline and you’re rushing to defend her?” Her eyes moved to his back – and her knife still embedded there – and a grin crossed her face. “Not to mention that you’re hardly in a position to be making threats, Kasten.”

The summoner turned back to Vanaline, eyes narrowing again. “Speaking of which, using Tiora was a breach of conduct. You lose, and I win by default.”

Vanaline shrugged, the wings on her back extending as she did. “I do not believe Tiora’s involvement or lack thereof was discussed before we began.”

“It was implied!”

“A contract built with implications is one with opportunity for exploitations,” Vanaline said smoothly.

Len gave the seraph a flat look. “Don’t try to muddle me with fancy phrases. You cheated and we both know it. He’s mine.”

“Is that so?” Vanaline drew herself up, lifting her chin to look down on Len. She extended one of her long hip wings, gesturing toward Kasten. “He breathes yet. Neither of us has won as I see it.”

“My knife’s in his back. I drew blood within seconds of finding him. What did you accomplish during the time you gained by your unfair methods? You made him pull his sword out of his sheath? I can do that just by entering a room if I glare at him hard enough.”

Vanaline sighed. “Am I to be faulted for wanting to enjoy myself before claiming victory? As though you’ve never drawn out an engagement with Kasten before. And it is so seldom that I get a chance to use my talents. You keep him all to yourself.”

“He’s my familiar!” Len said, bristling. “As are you, though you seem to forget that! You ought to be grateful that I’m letting you participate at all. Honestly, if you’re not going to be fair about it, I don’t have to let you do this. You should remember that, Vanaline.”

The two stared at one another for a moment, a battle of wills between them. Finally, Vanaline lowered her head, looking away. “Fine. You have my apologies – a rarity, for I have given them to very few. How shall I repay you for my mistake?” Kasten felt a jolt of fear as he heard Vanaline’s voice shift in the last sentence, from her simple, melodic ‘speaking’ to a full song. However, he didn’t feel the sound force any influence over him. What? Why is she…

Len swayed suddenly, as if dizzy, and her hand slipped from the hilt of her still-sheathed sword. “What are you…” She tried to shake her head to clear it, but the motion was sluggish and lethargic.

“Have you not wondered at the other side of my talents?” Vanaline sang, the words meshing seamlessly with her song. “I so seldom get to have use of them.” The seraph stepped forward, closing the space between them. The thin wings at her hips reached forward, stretching out to curl around Len’s waist, the long feathers brushing the backs of the summoner’s legs.

“No… I am resistant to your voice…” Len said, the words breathy and slightly slurred. She seemed to be having trouble concentrating as Vanaline’s singing grew louder. Kasten could see that her eyes had gone wide, and she blinked slowly, as though her eyelids were suddenly heavy.

“Resistant, not immune.” Vanaline’s slender fingers slipped beneath Len’s chin, gently lifting the summoner’s face. Her mouth still open to sing, Vanaline let her eyes drift closed, leaning down to bring her lips close to Len’s.

In the last moment, Len’s hand snapped upward, closing around Vanaline’s mouth and muffling the haunting song. Vanaline’s eyes opened in surprise, headwings flaring. She tried to pull back, but Len’s grip was sure, holding her fast. Len shook her head as the effects of Vanaline’s power evaporated, and the lost, dreamy look disappeared from her eyes.

Len pulled Vanaline’s face down level with hers, forcing the familiar to stoop. Vanaline’s eyes held a menacing glimmer above Len’s hand, matched by a coldness in Len’s own expression. “I thought,” Len said, her voice dangerously quiet, “we had established who exactly was in charge here, seraph. I am the summoner, and you follow my orders. Not the other way around. Am I clear?”

Vanaline made no attempt to respond. She pulled her headwings in slowly, laying them flat so that the dark feathers almost disappeared against the darkness of her hair. There was something dangerous in the motion, like a cat with its ears laid back. Kasten could see Vanaline seething beneath Len’s grip. Without her voice, she was powerless, and Kasten had a feeling that was not a situation she took to very well.

Len apparently took Vanaline’s lack of response as assent, because she continued. “Let me be specific. The next time you use your voice against me without my permission, I will cut out your tongue and we’ll see how well your music works without it. And you can stay like that until I decide to desummon you. You do not control me, Vanaline. I control you. Now that that’s been settled…”

Almost quicker than Kasten’s eye could follow, Len’s hand moved from Vanaline’s mouth to the back of her head. Len yanked Vanaline’s face across the two inches of space that had been separating them, pressing her lips to Vanaline’s. Vanaline’s headwings fluffed in surprise at the kiss, then she relaxed, eyes closing as she kissed Len back. Len’s hands moved upward, ruffling hair and feathers alike as her hands held the seraph close.

Kasten wasn’t entirely sure what his reaction was to this surprising development. Wordless, horrified bewilderment was probably a good approximation, not to mention a desire to yank the knife out of his back in hopes that he could bleed to death more quickly that way. If the excruciating pain that moving his arms to reach it weren’t a factor, he might seriously consider it as a viable option.

After an uncomfortably long amount of time, Len broke away, taking a deep breath. Her face was flushed, the color on her cheeks seeming brighter for the lightness of her hair. She tipped her head in small nod of concession, lips twitching into a smile. “Not bad.” Vanaline’s eyes flashed at the comment and her eyebrows raised, but she didn’t rise to the small taunt. The heat in Len’s cheeks revealed her nonchalance for the poor act it was, and Vanaline knew it.

Kasten finally found his voice, forcing his words out through the pain. “That was… the most disgusting thing I have ever had to watch.... If you don’t mind, could one of you… please just kill me already? Preferably before you do that again….”

Len rolled her eyes, sneering at him. Her hand darted out, pulling a knife from somewhere he couldn’t see. It found his chest a second later, and it must have hit his heart, for he found himself slipping away almost immediately. As he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back, he heard Len’s voice, calm and casual: “I suppose this means I win.”

He gratefully accepted the embrace of the numbing whiteness that washed over him, hoping that this time, beyond all reason, he wouldn’t wake from it.