──── ✧ only we remain ✧ | closed

[ꜱᴀʟᴇᴍ.]

❃ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍
lillian fala|she/her|tags. zahra vargas|mentioned. -
─────────────────────────────────────
'huh, tough crowd..' lillian thought as she awkwardly shuffled on her feet. she needed emiel and alaric back. she needed amara back. god she felt so pathetic. it wasn't like her to feel - or even act - so small, but she was uncomfortable with the unknown. being newly turned, things were so much more difficult for her; her stupid humanity was clinging for dear life [how very ironic]. watching the larger coven move around her and the remainder of her family, the hair on the back of her neck stood up once again. she felt uncomfortable; hopefully she wasn't the only one.

then, a voice piped up from behind the first row of vampires stood before her. she could tell this other woman was most likely just trying to get her away from the embarrassment, and in all honesty she was extremely grateful. she cleared her throat and slowly made her way towards the woman, avoiding any looks from the other vampires she passed.

when she got to her, lillian took a little bit of time to scan the woman's body language. she seemed kind enough, welcoming, very beautiful. it kind of intimidated her, to be honest, but she stood up tall - figuratively, that is. lillian was a fair few inches shorter than the woman stood in front of her; she was shorter than most she met in her life. when the woman turned around and began o walk through the mansion, lillian followed, walking a bit slow. she took in all the different sensory aspects of the hallways as they walked, and when they reached the kitchen she watched as the woman moved towards the bar.

"honestly i didn't think i'd get this far," she uttered under her breath, "um, i'll take a simple vodka lemonade if you have it?" she said innocently. lillian wasn't actually much of an alcohol person, but she felt she needed it right now. she then sat down on a stool, looking around the kitchen. it was gorgeous; lillian had always loved interior design. "my name is lillian, by the way." she said, watching the other woman, resting her elbow on the counter and her face in her hand.

[fortissimo]

✾ 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑭𝑳𝑬𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑬𝑹 ────────────────────────────────────────
〈 del rosario coven member 〉〈 location: del rosario mansion 〉〈 tags: oryn 〉〈 mentions: matias, emiel, lillian, alaric, zahra, cybil 〉〈 word count: 1,371 〉


Quiet nights like these were always best spent in good company if you asked a certain Frenchwoman, who had draped herself luxuriously across the lush, verdant loveseat in Matias Del Rosario’s sitting room, the rose gold hue of her simple yet classy dress providing a stark contrast against the piece of furniture. It was lucky for Blanchefleur, then, that she had Oryn Drabek to stave off her solitude for the time being. If there was one thing she had learned in over a century of living, it was this: good company was surprisingly hard to come by… and loneliness, a dear old friend of hers, was difficult to ignore without it.

On pleasant evenings like this, she might normally have found herself in the Cove, livening up the place and serenading its plastered occupants as well as her darling Zahra with a jazzy, dynamic piano scherzo… or better still, charming a naive mortal into a moment of vulnerability for a quick feeding. But they’d all received strict orders from Matias to stay inside until further notice, and who was Blanchefleur to question his judgment? He, for one, had never led her astray before; he was their leader for a reason.

A companionable silence - neither suffocating nor oppressive - settled between herself and Oryn as the minutes passed by — Blanchefleur was, at the very least, glad to have a friend who did not feel the incessant need to fill the void between them with fatuous chatter; she had never much been one for small talk, even in life, and in the decades that followed her patience for such trivialities had only grown thinner. They were waiting, waiting, waiting… and as it so often did when she was not otherwise preoccupied, her mind began to drift towards memories of a lifetime long since past, of loved ones who no longer walked the earth… especially her sire, torn apart by ruthless hunters. Invasive, bittersweet thoughts of Shiloh seemed to haunt her more than ever as of late, perhaps due to the growing presence of vampire hunters now prowling around Dawn Creek. Blanchefleur had managed to escape them once before, running all the way across state lines in order to do so; yet here they were some decades later, knocking on her doorstep once more like the pesky, filthy rats they were.

Had they been too careless about their feeding habits? Or was it the activity of their neighbors, the Sylvaine coven, that attracted hunter attention to this quaint, unassuming tourist town? But then again, who knew how the minds of those murderers worked, anyhow? She’d have better luck trying to dissect how old Oryn or Matias were.

Soon, the stench of saccharine blood filled her nostrils, impossible to ignore and interrupting her train of thought. Unwittingly, Blanchefleur found herself wrinkling her nose as she raised her head from where it had been resting daintily on her arms, glancing at Oryn from across the room first, then towards the door where the scent was drifting in from. Were she still mortal, she might have even gagged at the pungent smell, the unmistakable vampiric ichor that tainted the air. This could only indicate one thing: the Sylvaines had finally come.

Her characteristic dolefulness turned into white hot anger in a matter of moments, clenching her hands as her own nails dug into the skin there. It didn’t take a genius to guess the perpetrators behind the bloodshed; she may not have held any particular love for the Sylvaines - for the most part, she tolerated them as another unavoidable presence in the town she inhabited, nothing more and nothing less - but the same could not be said for those humans who dared call themselves hunters. Blanchefleur was a woman who normally feigned impassiveness, but in the end she always, without fail, felt too strongly, her undead heart aching in ways that were so frustratingly close to mortal. Love for her sire, her only companion for the greater part of a century, had morphed into a monstrous hatred, and she loathed the bloodhounds who preyed on vampires in the name of so-called “justice”. Oryn, she knew, held a similar opinion of the pests, had even managed to slay some of them before, and she wondered what he might be thinking now, as blood permeated the air.

“Family, please make the Sylvaines feel welcome while dear Emiel and I have our parlay.” Ah, there was the familiar - yet implacable, Blanchefleur had tried many times before, but she could never quite figure out where his accent came from - lilt of their coven leader, powerful enough to drift through the entire manor, confirming her earlier suspicions.

Before long, Oryn had crossed the room in just a few lengthy strides, and was now standing before her. From where she was seated, she had no choice but to look up in order to meet his familiar dark eyes. He always carried himself with such effortless grace, she couldn’t help but think. It was easy to see the monster in him — harder to see the man.

Movement caught her gaze, her attention shifting away momentarily to his proffered hand, and her lips twisted up in a small smile at the gesture as she replied in kind, “Who am I to deny such a gentleman?” And, true to her word, she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from her seat before the duo made their way to the foyer together.

It wasn’t a particularly long walk but by the time they arrived, Matias was already starting to leave with Emiel in tow. Blanchefleur watched the two men depart, curiously wondering how their conversation would go, but once they were no longer within eyeshot she turned her attention back to the others huddled by the door. She was admittedly somewhat taken aback to see that there were only five survivors of the other coven, save for their now absent leader of course, but nevertheless maintained a neutral frown as she glanced over each one — they all looked rather worse for wear, though she could not fault them for that given the circumstances, and she couldn’t help it; her heartstrings tugged as she took in each of their faces. One could only imagine the horrors they had been forced to endure before finally coming here, to the Del Rosario’s safe haven.

One raven-haired girl spoke up, breaking the silence with a question - though the attempt at humor seemed to fall on mostly deaf ears - and shortly after, a much larger man stormed through the entry hall. Blanchefleur stepped aside to avoid his direct path, watching as he disappeared down the pathway that she and Oryn had come from, moving towards the exquisitely-decorated sitting room. Not too long after, Zahra swept away the younger woman from before with the promise of drinks.

And then there were three.

Oh, sure, Blanchefleur knew that the proper, polite thing to do would have been to welcome the survivors with open arms, but she preferred to remain where she stood, rooted at Oryn’s side, statuesque in her silence. She had never been one to warm to strangers quickly, at least not in the way friendly, sweet Cybil did, and felt much more comfortable being around members of her own coven.

So, rather than rolling out the welcoming committee, the blonde instead turned to glance at her fair-haired companion, noting that he was scrutinizing the other vampires as well. Leaning closer to his shoulder as if to share a dreadfully interesting bit of gossip - though it was truly anything but - Blanchefleur cupped a hand to her mouth and whispered to him, “So what do you make of the new blood?” Was it impolite to do so when they were standing right there? … Perhaps. But really, they were little more than strangers to her, ones that she had no attachment to whatsoever, forced only into this awkward interaction due to the close proximity in which they lived. They deserved her sympathy, yes, but her friendship? That would take more time.

Eventually, if the parlay in the other room went well, she might someday come to see the Sylvaines as family, near and dear to her heart — but that was something only time would tell.

[bigwig.]

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐍
❧ ✧ she/her ✧ del rosario member ✧ location: del rosario manor ✧ tags: cybil
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
There was something in the air, like a crackle of electricity - it had been there all day long, and indeed it had been around even before then, but had crept in so gradually as to not be noticed until it had grown to a fever pitch. It was a frightening feeling the likes of which she had rarely known her kind to harbor; not much scared them. But on this eve the remote seaside mansion was flooded with sensation that something bad was expected to happen - or already had happened. What it was, Amaranth did not know. She had the sense that other people knew, including her father and Matias, but they had not told her. Perhaps it was one of those things that others did not want to talk about for some strange primal fear that they might speak it into existence. Some things were considered to be best left unacknowledged, for reasons that the not-yet-adjusted Amaranth did not fully understand.

Normally, when she felt frightened like this, she would have been following her father like a shadow, but his back had been turned to her all day. It made her unhappy to be given a cold shoulder by him, but she got the sense there was something very serious afoot, so in a way she understood. Obviously, he had something important on his mind. While at times she longed for his protective arms to loosen around her, when she felt uneasy like this it was as of yet still hard for her to process on her own. Instead, she had been fluttering around various other figures throughout the evening - chiefly Cybil, who was most welcoming. Matias had ordered them all to stay inside until he gave any further orders, and that command had felt like the culmination of all that frightening energy which had been humming in the air.

Something was afoot, and Amaranth was frustrated that she did not quite know what it was. She had heard rumors of the hunters floating around, but as someone who had never been confronted with hunters before, it lacked an element of reality to it. She did not realize, for she was unable to, the complete seriousness of the situation. Her compatriots had suffered such grief, wallowed in it for centuries, built themselves upon it. But Amaranth was a stranger to the world beyond the veil of loss. She was talking with Cybil when they both heard Matias' melodic voice call down to them all to welcome the Sylvaines - their rival coven. Or, more like their slightly uneasy neighbors. Amaranth knew Matias didn't really like Emiel, but she had never really developed much of an opinion on the other coven for herself. The two groups rarely met.

Amaranth would have loved to greet them, but that oppressive atmosphere was still bearing down on her and she knew their arrival was not just a friendly visit. She looked to Cybil. "Should we go to see them?" She asked quietly, no excitement in her voice. She was afraid, but curious, and the latter was getting the better of her. She didn't wait for Cybil's answer before getting up and going out into the entry hall. The smell of blood was in the air, but unlike the enticing scent of human blood it was a hot, unpleasant smell, something like humid air in the mouth and nose. She played with one of her large twists as she looked over them. Their numbers had been...drastically reduced. Something hung about them, even worse than the uncomfortable feeling she had been feeling before. Amaranth was stricken by a profound sadness, looking at them. The rest of the Sylvaines would not be coming.

She looked back at Cybil again. She wanted to go to them, but didn't know what there was she could say or do. It was hard to put this all into words - almost impossible. Amaranth didn't say anything, just made herself close to Cybil, as if the other woman could protect her from the inescapable feeling of sorrow and dread that had encapsulated her.

[Ashton_99]

«☆ℤ𝕒𝕙𝕣𝕒 𝕍𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕤☆»
«☆Del Rosario Coven Members ☆ She/Her ☆ Tags:Lillian (mentions Cybil) ☆ Location:Del Rosario Manor Kitchen☆»

Moving around the kitchen with familiarity, Zahra made half an attempt at not studying the woman from the Sylvaine coven too openly. She was obviously a bit uncomfortable and Zahra couldn’t blame her for it, she was in another coven’s den after having just experienced a tragedy. One that mirrored the end of Zahra's own mortal life. Perhaps that was the reason she had spoken up in the entryway, not content to have left the woman as she was. Or perhaps Matias's romantic notions had infected her and she had wanted to play savior. Regardless, for the time being, Zahra was content to leave the woman to her thoughts now that they were free of the audience. There was also the added benefit of being able to see the woman closer. She was beautiful and Zahra was appreciative even if only from an aesthetic standpoint.

She began on the woman’s order as soon as she heard it. A rare soft expression played on her face as she worked. It wasn’t the drink that caused the uncharacteristic reaction so much as the woman herself. Something about her was rather sweet in a way that was similar but not quite the same as Cybil was. Zahra had always had a soft spot for genuine people, people who she could still see good in after so many years of being alive.

While she worked, Zahra’s thoughts wandered idly back to her latest jewelry-making project. The red gems she’d been planning to use would go rather nicely with Lillian’s complexion. ‘But hmm a different metal might suit her more? Platinum or something else silvery maybe?’ Her hands worked on autopilot while she contemplated the finer points of platinum metal versus titanium. The drink that the woman had requested was relatively simple. Just two ingredients plus the mint and lemon garnishes. It was perhaps because of that simplicity that she’d gotten so involved in her own thoughts and hadn’t realized the woman had introduced herself until a moment later.

“Right, Lillian.” the bartender slid the glass across the cool marble counter, testing the sound of the woman’s name on her tongue, “I'm Zahra, and the pleasure is mine.” She leaned on the countertop adjacent to Lillian. As there was little clean-up necessary she was content to take her time and make some small talk. Until their coven leaders came to an agreement there was little else to do, after all. "So, we might be becoming coven-mates, yes? I suppose we should get to know one another a bit. Tell me about yourself."

[_humblebumble_]

𝒞𝒴𝐵𝐼𝐿 𝐹𝒜𝒮𝐿𝐸𝒴 ♡


█│ Del Rosario Coven Cember │ she/her │ tags. amaranth mentions. blanche, both covens location. del rosario manor



The manor is strangely quiet, despite everyone being temporarily stuck inside due to Matias’ request, Cybil thinks. Usually she can hear more conversations flowing, or simply the sounds of the others as they go about their days. It’s strange, and to Cybil causes more anxiety than anything else. The general mood of everyone seems to be somber, confused, maybe even a little bit annoyed. She isn’t used to anything like this happening, so out of the ordinary for Matias to demand something of this nature. Not only is the lack of sound strange, but the smell in the air makes Cybils hair stand on end. Blood is not something Cybil really enjoys the smell of, even if it’s her main dietary need. Especially that of vampire blood. Never a good sign, no matter the circumstances. Human blood is familiar, a safe smell despite the mix of feelings it causes Cybil. Human blood could mean that her precious family are simply eating, living another day of their long lives. Vampire blood means something terrible has happened, some fight or accident causing harm.

Cybil has heard about the hunters in the town, she hasn’t interacted with anyone who’s had direct contact with one of them, but she’s aware of their presence. The smell in the air can really only mean one thing. If it were a faint smell, maybe it could be explained away, but the ferocity of the smell and the way it refuses to clear away can only be explained by the hunters. They’ve found the other coven.

Cybil has never liked being selfish, but for the briefest of moments she’s relieved nobody in her own coven was discovered. The thought, despite being fleeting, causes Cybil to feel immense guilt. Her heart jumps into her throat as she silently berates herself for even considering this fate luck. The Sylvaine coven is not their enemy, even if they could’ve been in other circumstances. Cybil has met a few of them, although she never was especially close with them she knows them. It’s awful, what must have happened. There’s no worse fate that Cybil can think of.

There’s a terrible feeling in Cybil’s chest as she can only imagine what they’ve gone through. She must not be the only one feeling like this, the silence of the manor indicating so. Everyone is scattered around, doing their own things to cope or wait patiently for Matias to announce they can leave. Cybil isn’t thoughtless enough to think that everyone is like her, some of the others may not care at all about the Sylvaines or the hunters. Some she knows for certain despise the hunters and will see this as a perfect opportunity to wreak havoc.

Cybil will hold her tongue on the matter. She believes deep in her heart that the hunters are simply lost. Their ideals are twisted, yes, but there must be reasons for their existence. Loss at the hands of vampires, raised to think like hunters without exposure to other points of view, the simple fear of the unfamiliar, and many more reasons. Cybil doesn't blame them for their upbringing or reasoning. If only they would see the vampires as simply living creatures doing their best to survive just as they are, maybe they’d change their outlook. Cybil knows this is an… extremely unpopular opinion to have.

All the anxiety and conflicting thoughts stirring up in Cybil have left her unable to do much, other than sit with Amaranth and talk to her. Usually Cybil likes to be doing something with her hands when she’s talking, but she can’t really focus on anything other than idly picking at the skin around her nails. Amaranth is wonderful company, someone Cybil seeks out for comfort whenever she can. The two of them are close, and Cybil would usually try to talk about how she’s feeling to sort through the emotions, but something stops her today. This isn’t something she can really talk about, since it’s actively happening and she doesn’t have all the puzzle pieces yet. Plus, Amaranth has been unable to reach her father throughout the day despite attempting to. Cybil is unwilling to unload her thoughts on her best friend when she’s already having a bad day.

So they’re talking about harmless random topics when Matias’ announcement comes. Cybil is on her feet before he even finishes talking, heart racing. The Sylvaines are here. Cybil had considered it a possibility that they’d come for aid, but she hadn’t consciously thought about what that would mean.

After standing, she pauses in indecision. She looks towards Amaranth, panic probably evident in her eyes as she waits for their opinion. Usually, Cybil would’ve been first to the door to greet and welcome others, but the mere fact that she doesn’t know who’s all there, what they’ve gone through, it gives her pause. She isn’t equipped to handle such oppressive grief.

When Amaranth speaks, Cybil lets out a sigh of mixed relief and worry. The decision is out of her hands, seeing as Amaranth starts walking before Cybil can formulate a response, so instead of trying she simply follows her lead.

As they reach the doors, Cybil can feel tears well up in her eyes at the sight. There are so few of them. A mere fraction of the coven she knew them to be in the past. Not only that, but their faces display an incredible sadness. Cybil can practically feel it in the air, how hard it has been for them. She’s always been quick to tears, but faced with such a display, she can’t even try to hold them back. She tries to remain silent despite the crying, she would feel terrible to make this moment about herself.

Cybil looks towards Amaranth for support, as the other does the same to her. She steps closer towards Amaranth, stuck in her silence once more. Being near her friend brings Cybil some form of comfort, even as she’s faced everything she’s been feeling today finally burst to the surface.

Cybil continues to feel frozen as a few of the people surrounding them move. Emiel and Matias go to have their meeting, and a few members of each coven interact and move further into the manor. Cybil feels stuck, like she’s simply an outside observer.

“Anth,” Cybil finally speaks, using a nickname she doesn’t use very often for Amaranth, “I- I don’t know what to do.”

Her hands are shaking as she finally gathers herself enough to wipe her tears, and she looks back up towards the people who haven’t left yet. Her eyes spot Blanche, another of her closest friends, and Cybil typically adores spending time with her, but she isn’t sure if she’s exactly ready to reveal just how affected by everything she is. She wants to help, like her and Blanche do often, but she’s trapped by her feelings. All she can do is wait for something else to move her.

[ꜱᴀʟᴇᴍ.]

❃ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍
lillian fala|she/her|tags. zahra vargas|mentioned. ayla, amara, emiel, matias
─────────────────────────────────────
lillian caught the glass as the other woman slid it over to her. hearing her name in another accent wasn't something she was familiar with; it took her by surprise. after a few seconds, she realised that the other had introduced herself. giving zahra a nod of acknowledgement, she let her mouth curl into a small smile. as lillian listened to the next words to come out of zahra's mouth, she shifted uncomfortably on her seat. coven-mates. for some reason, even though she had clearly gotten her foot in the door with someone in the del rosario coven, the idea of merging with them still made her feel a little.. uneasy.

looking down, she cleared her throat; "i suppose so," she said - her voice was small once again. lil's eyes widened slightly when zahra asked her to give some information on herself. 'i'm really not that interesting..' she thought to herself, before making eye contact with the other woman once again. "i, uh- i'm new to the whole... vampire thing." she stated. before giving zahra a chance to react to that small piece of insight, lillian carried on: "my father and sister were killed by a vampire and when i tried to find the one who did it, i met the love of my life..." her voice trailed off as she thought of what to say next.

"well, maybe it was superficial. she was the one who sired me after all. but anyway, she introduced me to ayla and the rest of the sylvaine coven and they turned me, taking me in. now around two weeks later, i'm here." 'and ayla and amara aren't.' lillian thought, and then she felt a twang of pain making itself known in her chest. she was looking down again, rubbing her thumb along the side of her glass. she took a gulp. then another. and another. before she new it, the glass was empty. lil gently placed the glass on the other side of her as she looked back to zahra.

"what about you, zahra? what's your story?" she knew that she'd barely given anything up, but it was enough. enough to let zahra know that lillian was still new to the scene and wasn't sure of what to expect. her thoughts wandered back to emiel, and once again she was thinking about how he must be feeling. the man who took her in after being turned, with no questions asked and the enthusiasm to help her get through it all, was broken. and she knew that he couldn't be fixed - not for a very long time at least. 'he does have all eternity.' lillian thought, trying to find just a sliver of positivity for him.

she wondered what he and the other coven leader were saying to one another. she knew the gist; emiel surrendering his leadership, matias eating it all up. lillian wasn't sure what to think. she knew that she and the coven would be safe here with the del rosario's help but.. still. everything was up in the air, and lillian hated uncertainty. uncertainty was what got her family killed. and it was uncertainty that led her to find the sylvaines - at this point, she wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. maybe she should've just stuck to herself.

[_humblebumble_]

𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 ✦


█│ Sylvaine Coven Leader │ he/him │ tags. matias mentions. both covens location. del rosario manor



The mixture of dread and relief rattling around inside Emiel’s mind makes him feel slightly nauseous. He isn’t sure exactly what to expect with all this, what Matias may do or demand in return for this favour, if he wants anything out of it at all besides more numbers that is, but whatever it is Emiel is willing to give. He can’t lose much more, as long as his coven is protected he’s willing to do whatever it takes. Nothing else matters, not material objects or pride or anything like it. As long as they’re granted entry into the manor Emiel will deem whatever he has to do worth it. The sooner they’re inside the sooner they’re safe.

As Matias’ announcement is made, Emiel takes a step backwards, thrown off by the intense feelings that surface due to the words. He hasn’t met many of the Del Rosario coven exactly so he has no idea how they’ll respond to all of this. Whether ‘making them feel welcome’ is a passive comment to announce their presence or a genuine warning that anything else is unacceptable. He doesn’t want to think about walking his coven into even more danger, so all he can do is trust that Matias’ coven will listen to him.

Emiel watches as Matias jumps down from the balcony. If he were feeling at all better he would’ve probably commented on the dramatics, although maybe he would still be smart enough to keep the comment to himself. He has to be on his best behaviour to get the best deal for his coven, even if he has been a little bit, or a lot, rude in the past. He can’t change what has happened but he is in control of how he acts from here on. Emiel is mildly unnerved by Matias’ smile, feeling it out of place, but he recognizes that he’s probably projecting his own negative feelings on others who are definitely not as affected as he is.

Emiel follows, making sure his coven is with him, still close so that he isn’t anxious. The first glimpse into the manor when the doors are thrown open gives Emiel pause. It’s very different from the Sylvaines’ place, although the mix matched decorations from various time periods remind Emiel so much of Ayla it brings a lump to his throat. She would’ve absolutely loved to see the inside of this manor, she probably would’ve spent hours simply documenting everything and talking about its history, if Matias was so inclined.

Emiel takes a steadying breath before he steps inside, gesturing for his coven to follow his lead. Once they’re all inside it feels as though a weight is lifted off of his shoulders. He feels like he can finally breathe again, now that they’re within protected walls. It’ll be much easier for him to feel comfortable parting from them now, so long as they don’t leave. Which is apparently right away. Emiel shouldn’t be surprised Matias wants to have a meeting, it makes complete sense that they would need to talk about the details. Emiel is mildly relieved to be leaving, the Del Rosario coven surrounding them as they enter sort of makes him feel like some sort of zoo animal on display. He mildly takes note of the faces of the other coven as he walks passed, trying to get a sense for how dangerous they may be. Of course some of them seem incredibly strong, though he isn’t sure whether that means he should be worried. Emiel reminds himself again that Matias specifically told them to play nice.

As a few of his own coven members interact and go off with the other coven members, Emiel is proud. Even in such a disastrous time and tense situation they are able to be calm and almost friendly towards each other. Emiel only briefly turns to look once more at his coven for reassurance before he turns fully to follow Matias.

Emiel makes sure to memorize the directions as he follows, hoping to commit this manor to memory as soon as possible. He isn’t sure whether they’ll be allowed to stay here full time, another thing to discuss in the meeting, but hopefully at least long enough to get their feet back under them.

Once they enter his office, Emiel looks around and takes in the decoration, trying to force down thoughts of Ayla. He imagines he may have to talk about her as part of Matias’ questions, but it’s hard to think of her at the moment, how much she would’ve loved all this. Of course, with less of the death and destruction, but she had always hoped for a more friendly relationship between the covens.

Emiel sits down in one of the seats, and steels himself to begin talking again. Before Matias gets into questions, he hopes to explain more about their situation in order to show why he came here instead of anything else.

“As you know, my coven got attacked by some hunters that recently came to Dawn Creek, I assume you’re aware of their presence. I don’t know exactly what brought them here, as we’ve been here for so long without any hunter group this large taking interest, but all I do know is that there's a lot of them. They’re.. Well, they have a lot of knowledge. They’re well trained, and they have taken their time. This massacre of my coven didn’t happen overnight, even though it feels that way,” Emiel tries to speak objectively, but he can’t help but project a little bit of his anger into his tone.

“They figured out where we lived, so it’s not safe for us there anymore. I don’t know if they’re aware Dawn Creek has two covens, but I assure you none of my coven have revealed that information. Even if they wanted to, the hunters are not asking questions.

“This is completely unorthodox to how we usually co exist, but my offer from before still stands. If it’s what is needed, I am willing to step down as the leader to my coven. As long as you can grant them safety and reprieve, here, and treat them as if they’re your own. I know that it may be dangerous to house us, as the hunters may come here next in search of us, but we will not take things lying down. We have been fighting back to the best of our abilities, and I assume your coven is strong. Stronger than mine,” he admits, knowing that even if he does promise his coven will fight back, they’ve already shown that they can’t win with their own strength against the hunters, terrible a thought as it may be.

“I’m willing to answer any questions you have,” Emiel finishes. Hopefully his speech will have been useful in some way.

[Ashton_99]

«☆ℤ𝕒𝕙𝕣𝕒 𝕍𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕤☆»
«☆Del Rosario Coven Members ☆ She/Her ☆ Tags:Lillian ☆ Location:Del Rosario Kitchen☆»

There is a specific point in the conversation that Zahra recognizes Lillian’s general anxiety solidifying into something a little less abstract- genuine unease rather than nerves. And though she sees this, Zahra says nothing. While she recognized it was perhaps callous of her to speak so bluntly, the covens merging was more than likely going to happen, and to her, it would be pointless to tip-toe around the matter. Still, she didn’t harp on the point, instead listening as Lillian opened up. There was a notable shift in Zahra’s expression the longer she listened, her idle cleaning of the already spotless counter slowing. The corners of her mouth turned down, empathy in the dark shadows of her eyes.

While it had not been her biological family that had been killed when she’d been turned, the people of the vineyard had been hers still. And to lose a love on top of it? Zahra was not envious of the younger woman’s short life thus far. She moved slowly to take the empty glass from Lillian, purposely letting her fingers linger over the others. It was her best attempt to offer wordless comfort while attempting to not be smothering. She was, after all, still virtually a stranger and on top of that often clumsy with softness. Following the line of conversation, Zahra knew that her own question would be turned back on her eventually but she still averts her gaze when Lillian asks regardless.

She keeps her hands moving, washing the glass and putting away anything left out on the counters as she speaks. “Ah, it is the typical song and dance, no? My husband, my friends- they were slaughtered and I had the unfortunate luck of surviving,” she motions idly to herself, “if this can be called surviving I suppose.” Zahra’s tone was a well-practiced imitation of casualness. She breathed deeply. Though the function was no longer necessary, it was centering nonetheless, “Ah, but that was a long time ago now.” Her mortal days were perhaps not so far-flung into the past as many of the others in the house, but it had been a lifetime now and long enough that Zahra could convince herself that all that remained of then were the echoes of pain and grief rather than the genuine articles. “It was the 1920s in the South of France, a town that does not really exist anymore I suppose- merged with another a few decades ago. The vineyard I worked at is still there though.”

Her desire to continue on the topic petered out with that. ’Well this topic of conversation has certainly soured the mood, hm. She’d meant to ask after trivial things- hobbies and the like- but somehow they had ended up swapping traumas instead.

Perhaps something had been kicked up into the air in the wake of the Sylvaine tragedy.

After finally running out of things to clean and prep she rounded the island counter, “But, that is all in my past. We are here now, and Matias and your Emiel are up there doing… something.” Zahra shot a dubious look towards the ceiling in the general direction of Matias’s study. The Sylvaine coven head seemed to be a good man, shattered by the tragedy of course, but what good man wouldn’t be? It was because of that, that she worried a bit. She was not sure how Matias might handle all of those broken parts. The man was well-learned and skilled in many things, but just as with her gentleness did not come naturally. “And in the meantime, now that you’ve had your drink, how about a tour?”