when the night's here, i don't do tears

[pokerap]

Fandom: Original
Character(s): Rhian, Liealia, Liorel
Word Count: 2,231
Summary: Rhian and Liealia discuss politics and plans.
Notes: Another draft I had lying around that I finally polished up. Maybe one of these days I'll make a journal for Liealia.


Part of Rhian’s duties serving as Vassar’s vassal include keeping an eye on their allies. The most powerful - and most capricious - of these allies is Liealia, a vampire with vast magical abilities that could put Vassar to shame. Were she older (and thus more powerful) she would undoubtedly surpass him.

But her fatal flaw is that carefree, reckless nature of hers. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking, even now. She leads Rhian through her castle - a fairly recent construction that she’s quite proud of, given her delighted words as she rambles about every part of the structure as they walk - eventually pausing at the door of her grand library.

Liealia may not seem like the sharpest sword in the armory, but she’s always kept her cards close. Her library is perhaps the greatest of these cards - she wouldn’t be nearly as powerful if she hadn’t spent the time collecting and reading through all these tomes, after all. The shelves rise to the ceiling, a full three floors stocked full of unique and rare books and scrolls, all meticulously maintained by Liealia’s thralls.

“Liorel,” She calls out, her voice dropping the usual cheer and charm for something that sounds dangerously close to bored, “you’d best pry yourself from whatever you’re reading; our guest has arrived.”

Rhian’s eyes land on the man in question easily - unlike the thralls that move almost mechanically, this one moves much like their prey would. His footsteps are hurried, uneven, and nearly result in him tripping as he arrives before the door and stoops into a deep bow.

He is human, which isn’t precisely a surprise. Liealia has always been more fond of them than Vassar or Rhian. Still, the fact that he retains his mind is... odd. Interesting, maybe. Liealia must have some use for him that Rhian can’t see. There’s not much use in humans aside from hunting them, after all.

“My apologies, Lady Liealia.” The human’s hair is messy, cut short and a stark white, standing against pale skin and slightly pointed ears. He’s quite short, standing even shorter than Liealia, but he doesn’t seem to be particularly young for a mortal. Despite the scuffle to get here, his voice is even and carries well, though it remains quiet.

Most striking are his eyes, though. One is a deep purple while the other stands out as a bright, searing red. Rhian’s eyes flick back to Liealia’s - a perfect match for her own. That eye would be right at home on any vampire, but Rhian has a guess about what, precisely, this human is doing here now.

The lady hums in dismissal and waves a hand, taking the lead once again. “This is Lord Rhian,” She explains as she walks, heels clicking against the stone. “He is here at the behest of Lord Vassar.”

The human walks several steps behind him, but Rhian can still sense the nod he gives. They both remain silent.

Liealia pushes the grand double doors to the dining hall open and spins on her heel to face them, looking all too proud of herself as she exclaims, “Behold, the dining hall!”

It is rather grand, not that Rhian would admit it to her. It’d go to her head in a heartbeat (not that their hearts actually beat, granted). Vassar’s castle is much more simplistic than this; but then, there isn’t much of a point in comparing vampire nobility to an actual princess. Still, given the fact that she’s waiting with her arms outstretched, it seems she’s not going to accept his silence as a suitable reaction.

“It’s very grand,” He says.

Apparently that isn’t good enough, because she purses her red-painted lips in a pout. “That’s all you have to say? I’ve spared no expense in furnishing this castle, and yet you’ve seemed entirely bored with the tour.”

“I’m not one for aesthetics.”

“I’ll say.” She scoffs and waves a hand before entering the dining hall.

There are several long tables laid out with all the proper silverware, although vampires hardly have reason to use such things to begin with. Truthfully, the place would look more at home in Emirre’s capital rather than out here, in the middle of nowhere, with only vassals and vampires to appreciate it.

Liealia waves Liorel off and the human bows before taking his leave. He has the proper manners of a servant - as he should, given that he is in the presence of vampires - but Rhian isn’t stupid enough to believe that’s all he is. After all, Liealia has plenty of thralls to carry out her bidding. There’s hardly any need for a servant that has a mind of their own.

“You’ve given my lord’s proposal some thought?” He asks now that they’re alone.

It earns a scowl from Liealia. “Please, Rhian, we haven’t even fed yet!” Though given her reluctance to talk about it - this is the third time he’s asked, after all - he can only assume that it won’t be a favorable answer for Vassar. Annoying, but it’s not like Rhian minds an equally strong vampire putting the man in his damn place. Someone needs to take him down a peg or two.

The human returns shortly, leading two other humans by the wrists. His eyes remain downcast, but he isn’t trembling and his words are steady as he speaks, “Your meals.”

He must have been here for quite some time to be used to this - most humans would argue with the idea of leading their hypnotized brethren to be consumed by vampires.

Liealia claps her hands with a delighted nod. “Very good! Attend us, Liorel.”

The human dips into another bow and releases his grip on the thralls, who remain in place. He steps backwards and takes up a spot nearby, arms folded behind his back as he awaits his next orders.

Rhian’s gaze lingers on him and then flicks back to Liealia. “Our business is private.” He reminds her. Were this one merely a thrall, he would have no issues discussing such things; this one is capable of listening in and conveying this information to anyone he damn well pleases.

As always, Liealia doesn’t seem to care, given the roll of her eyes, toss of her long, crimson hair, and flippant words, “He is mine, Rhian, and I’ll thank you not to question his presence here any further.”

Warning shots, then. Were he anyone else, she likely would have reacted more harshly, but they do have a history. It’s thanks in part to him that she’s been able to rebuild her life as a vampire, after all - though such things are never spoken of anymore. He is Vassar’s, and that is why he is here.

So he’ll keep his judgments to himself. There’s no sense in turning down the free meal offered so graciously by his host, so Rhian reaches out for the human Liealia hasn’t taken and sinks his fangs into the thrall’s neck. He doesn’t need to ask if he should keep the prey alive, because she finishes and simply drops the body to the floor and steps over it.

“Now then,” She says as she approaches the head of the table, taking a seat there with a bright smile, “let’s talk business, shall we?”

She’s far too quick, as always. Rhian resists the urge to roll his eyes, leaving the thrall drained, but still alive. He moves to take a seat beside her - where he can continue to keep an eye on her little pet, of course.

“Lord Vassar’s approach is an interesting one,” She starts, resting her elbow on the table and then her chin on her hand. “But I don’t particularly care what he thinks. I want to hear your thoughts on it.”

“As always, my thoughts are in agreement with my lord’s—”

“Ugh,” She interrupts him with a disdainful sigh. “Liorel, go fetch some wine. I’m not as ready for this dreadfully dull conversation as I thought I was.”

“Yes, my lady.” The human bows and moves to lead the still-living thrall back out of the room. Given his slender physique, there’s no way he’d be able to lift the dead one, so that thrall merely remains on the floor. It’s hardly the first time something like this has happened.

“I’m not asking you as vassal to Lord Vassar,” Liealia says, “I’m asking because I want your honest opinion.”

Rhian can’t manage to suppress a sigh this time. She always does get him to say more than she should; perhaps he’s a bit more weak to her than he’d really care to admit. “I think it’s a damn stupid idea.”

It seems to be what she wants to hear, given how quick her smile returns, sharp fangs poking over her lip. “Not a fan of Lord Egliene, I take it?”

“I’m impressed the man has managed to live this long,” Rhian scoffs. “He may be easy to manipulate, but an alliance would put more strain on us than it would provide benefits.”

“But Lord Vassar doesn’t care about that.”

It’s a prompt for him to keep going, and though he knows he should stop, Rhian nods. “As always, my lord believes in allying with as many of us as he can. Our numbers are thinning far too fast, he says.”

Liealia hums a bit, mismatched eyes darting away from Rhian to stare at some point on the wall. Her pet returns, placing several bottles of "wine" before them, and pouring her a glass. Rhian holds up a hand when he goes to pour a second one, and the human backs up to his original position obediently.

“Lord Vassar is a clever man, and not one I’m interested in angering.” She sighs as she picks up the glass, swirling the thick red liquid inside. It obviously isn’t wine. “But if he has his mind set on this, then I imagine there’s very little I can do to stop him.”

Rhian doesn’t nod, but he does agree with that idea. Vassar is the most stubborn damn man he’s ever met. There is simply no reasoning with him once he has something in mind.

Liealia tosses the entire glass back and wipes the back of her mouth across her hand. Such vulgar manners wouldn’t be on display for anyone else, but he’s seen her in a bloodfrenzy, so this is nothing in comparison. “Very well,” She doesn’t sound like she’s entirely in agreement, but begrudging acceptance is better than he was expecting from her today. “Lord Vassar has my support.”

“There is one other thing,” Rhian pauses, glancing at the human pointedly. This is not meant for anyone else’s ears.

The pet doesn’t flinch, but also doesn’t meet his gaze. Liealia’s eyes follow Rhian’s and she frowns. “I’ve already told you, he’s mine. Speak, Lord Rhian.” She pours herself another glass with that command - he’s not stupid enough to believe it’s a request.

There’s little point in arguing with her, as Liealia is the second-most stubborn person Rhian has ever met. Really, what is it about vampires that brings out their stubborn streak? He isn’t one to talk either, anyway. “Lord Vassar has caught wind of your plans for Emirre.”

“Oh?” Liealia looks up at him with a coy smirk. “What plans?”

They both know there’s no point in playing dumb, and yet she does anyway. Likely because she wants to hear it, to revel in it. “You intend to prove yourself as the last remaining descendant of the throne while Emirre is still struggling to recover from the coup.”

“Good boy,” She says mockingly. “You and your master have done your work.”

Rhian is sorely tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose to fight off a coming headache. Liealia may treat him better than others, but she’s always been the sort to play cat and mouse with anyone she sets her eyes on. It’s truly unfortunate she’s decided to throw an entire country into chaos just for her own amusement.

“You know as well as we do that there’s no way it will end well.”

“And you know as well as I do that cautioning me won’t stop me.” She waves a hand to dismiss it. “The throne is mine by right of blood. I would be a fool not to act on it.”

“Should you do so, you risk Lord Vassar’s alliance.” A brief pause before he continues, “You would be facing the humans alone once they discover what you are.”

“You make it sound like a foregone conclusion! Humans are far too stupid to realize the truth.” This time she daintily sips her wine, never breaking eye contact with him and that smirk never leaving her face. “Besides, it’ll be far more fun than skulking about in the shadows and playing at politics.”

She does have a point. Vassar strategizes and forms alliances all while remaining hidden, away from the prying eyes of their prey, but Liealia’s bold attempt to take the country for herself is one Rhian can approve of. It’s a stupid idea. It’s going to get her killed. But he can admire the audacity it takes to consider such a thing.

“You’ll die,” He says instead, as though the warning would ever stop her.

“I’d like to see them try to kill me.” She smiles.