WG- Another Shadow Over Hackdirt Options

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I apologize for clogging the free-roaming Wobbly Goblet thread with our mission, as neither of us thought about making another thread(Until I did this morning.)

Once we get a hold of an Admin, we'll see abut putting the rest of the mission here. Until then our Hackdirt posts will be kept here.

[Darkness Eternal]

Kayla’s breaths of slumber whispered through her lips and nose. That was the only sound in the room. Everything was so quiet now, so provocatively silent. So silent that he can hear the flow of blood pumping through her veins that were hidden but not entirely, beneath that tender flesh that could break with the simplest of bites.

She had moved her legs closer to him, and her backside touching against his hip. The proximity was enough to make his mouth water. He longed for a few sweet drops upon his tongue. Fresh nutrition to moisten the throat.

Altmer were naturally thin-blooded, despite their red elven fluids. Drathen was in no position to complain, however. While he preferred young virgin women, this one will do just fine. High elves are very much resistant to diseases and he was sure this one wouldn’t contract vampirism. He hoped she wouldn’t. He didn’t want any of his creations prowling about to cause trouble. He had patience for anything, anything but that.

Whether she had the desire to share a bed with perverse intentions or no did not matter. She was there, and she was sleeping. Her exhaustion was so great that she had slipped into a deep slumber, one that Drathen wasn’t bold enough to interrupt without the proper spell. The mask that was his face at last cracked and a malicious smile crept around the corners of his mouth.

Drathen sat up slowly as if rising from a grave. He turned his head slightly to the side and stared at the sleeping woman. Though consciously unaware at that moment, she had all the signs of life in her. She breathed. Her heart was beating. Her blood was flowing. Her organs worked. Him, on the other hand, was a mockery of life. Neither living nor dead, but in between for the sole purpose to spite Arkay. And he was content with that.

While Imperial culture regards vampires as destructive monsters to be hunted and destroyed. There still exists romantic notions of noble, virtuous vampires that persist in Imperial traditions to this very day.

Drathen reflected on the beauty of his unlife. There was a certain pride he took in walking among the sheep dressed in their clothing. Say what they will about romantic undead or the glamorization of immortality and eternal youth. Of virtuous undead who long for love. There are blood-thirsty monsters with fangs and shriveled skin and glowing eyes, and monsters just the same with finer garbs of flesh and cloth. He was blessed, by Vile, to have been born in the later. Blessed, by Bal, to have the blood of ancients flowing adrift his veins. As a vampire lord, he could take what he wants and right now he wanted the cattle sleeping beside him.

With the low voice that was naturally his, he sechoed her words with a hint of mockery: “I apologize if I touch you at any point during the night. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

By law, he must maintain a supple appearance through the satisfaction of the thirst.

He stretched out a slightly pale bony hand to Kayla’s mind while another remained above her breast. With vampiric seduction at his disposal, he cast his dark power over her mind. Whatever fear she had was allayed through his fear through that spell. Her mind, already anchored down with sleep, was further dragged into a perfectly pliant condition.

With his own will, he opened a fantastic portal that would manifest in her dreams, revealing a fantastic landscape so bright and deep that only her most venereal desires would see realized. Oh how malleable the mind can be . . .

Drathen felt her sleep intensify and her body warmth and heart beat change in rhythm. His ringed fingers slipped underneath those covers and began to explore forbidden territory that he longed to discover through touch. Though quite inhuman, he was still every bit the resemblance of a man, both in body and of course, desire.

Red eyes stared intently at the creature before him, and he gently pushed aside her head to expose her succulent jugular. His mouth opened, his teeth elongated into vicious fangs meant to pierce and also draw in the red nectar.

She won't feel a thing.

If she only realized how lucky she was that she was losing her own lifeblood peacefully rather than by brute taking such as the countless victims before her. They were unwilling donors who put up a struggle until their final breath. While they are six-feet under the earth, Kayla would potentially walk free without any mind to what truly happened.

Part of him did wonder if he had the courage to turn her into a thrall and put her into one of his subterranean cattle cell in his castle to join the other catatonic prisoners. If she tasted well enough, there is a possibility.