Moroi Throne Room [OPENING POST]

[Christopher Saunders]

“Oh Serena’s not my girlfriend.” He said hastily, but that was obviously a lie just by the pace he’d spoken it at.

Christopher listened carefully, taking note of the key points. Konstantin Belikov. That name could instill terror on certain people, and an air of despair seemed to gather when just the name had been spoken. A niggling of a memory began to surface in his mind. “Konstantin…” His eyebrows knit together, and he began searching for a memory, which was evident on his face. He could’ve sworn he’d heard that name before… Or perhaps he’d read it… Hell, there was even the possibility that he’d seen the man, if he could just think of that damn memory.

“I...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. Abruptly he sat of straight, and hissed at the pain that spiked through his chest. Those gashes Ornock had inflicted while he’d defended Serena were better, but still stuck in stitches. They hurt. “I’ve heard that name before, publicly, spoken by a human at the airport on my way back from a trip. I’m not sure when he’d have gone through, but she was yammering on in an annoyingly shrill voice about how he’d paid in full cash for his flight.”

[AzuraGallu]

Azura's eyes narrowed. Payed full cash? How interesting. They had been under the assumption that Melora's father had been hiding out in Chile for some time, aside from the first encounter at the mansion. That was all real; all flesh and blood.
"It's very possible you've heard it before. He's very famous round the world, particularly so in Russia where he left his entire corporation to his girl child. He was supposed to have been murdered, but he's most recently turned up as a vampire; a Blackraven."
He let out a quiet breath, one fang tugging for a moment on his lower lip. Out of the corner of his eye he caught one of his guards glowering at him, shaking their head almost imperceptibly against the action they deemed as a show of weakness.
He snorted, straightening in his chair and noticing Christopher's...pain?
"Are you alright?"

[Christopher Saunders]

Christopher nodded as Azura gave an explanation. “I’ve heard whispers of him, and that his Daughter, Melora I thought I heard her called once, is a promising Huntress nowadays.” He didn’t care, nor have any particular feelings about the Hunters, as long as they stayed well away from his Clan, and out of his business. But he had heard of Konstantin Belikov, and was nearly positive that almost every Vampire in civilized society that wasn’t a new born had heard of him. “He joined Blackraven? Have you seen any of the Clan to confirm how much charge he has within their ranks?” He asked curiously.

Hearing Azura question his health he waved a hand. “Just a misunderstanding with a werewolf, he’s actually a friend of mine now.” He could feel the distinct lack of actual bleeding, yet, which was good. It would be a shame to have to leave to go get cleaned up, and he was actually fond of this white suit. “Tore me up a bit.”

[AzuraGallu]

"I haven't had the opportunity to ask them. Until I made the trip here, I've been unable to free myself of my clan; evacuating all of our safe houses, finding resources to accommodate us all, and making funeral arrangements for my father has eaten up most of my time."
He'd barely had a moment to spare and wasn't liking the turn of this conversation. What could he possibly learn from reciting things he already knew? Perhaps he was being impatient, but he needed to end this, and quickly.
Pulled out of his thoughts by a single word, he pressed back into his chair and hissed. Of course, it was his business whether he chose to traipse about with werewolves or not, but Azura wanted nothing to do with them. Hands and nails digging into the cushioned fabric of the arms of the chair, he took a deep breath, trying to relax. Werewolves, they always left a bad taste in his mouth.

[Christopher Saunders]

“Speaking to them would probably turn up something. Whichever person or persons is in charge of them should speak up, before they have the other Clans turned against them.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, nodding to himself. “It would be wise of them anyway.”

Seeing his reaction to the talk of Weres, Chris leaned slowly back, projecting the small soft noises of leather from his chair. Azura was actually clawing the furniture, like some sort of large jungle cat. “You dislike them? Far from me to try to correct you, Azura Gally, but not all are bad. They just…” He looked toward the ceiling. “Have a temper when you upset them.”

As small knock sounded at the door. "Yes?" He asked.
"Zoë is throwing a fit." A small blonde maid said, cracking the door just enough for speech.
"Send her in." Chris requested.

[AzuraGallu]

Azura growled, refusing to hear his words. Yes. Far be it from him. He hadn't had his mother torn from him by their slimy little claws and snapping fangs. He lifted his nails up off the surface of the couch, noticing he was destroying it, but his frown still remained, thoughts turning from dark to darker, past rising like floodwaters to trap and suffocate him in the home he'd foolishly called a future.
He stood, excusing himself from the room, stepping out into the hall. He needed to make a phone call, and he had absolutely no idea why he was dialing this particular number.
"What, you didn't miss me?" he began, hearing her unenthusiastic voice.

[Christopher Saunders]

The maid jumped away from Azura, fear flooding her face as she hastily murmured an apology and stepped into the room. She met Chris half-way as he took the African Grey.

“Peanut!” The bird cocked.
“Not now.” He hissed, trying to quiet her.

Still scratching the back of his neck her strode back over to his desk, taking a seat with the bird perched on his wrist. A sense of trespassing had begun to invade his thoughts, as had a sense of pain. Upon pausing from his scratching, be brought a hand up, pressing it against the fabric of his chest. One of the wounds had opened up, and blood was running over the muscle and flesh of his chest.

“Aisha.” He spoke to the maid before she could skitter off. Aisha nodded. She’d read the look and immediately came over, taking the bird from him as her body moved to place her rear in a black recliner in the far corner.

Chris tipped his head back, slightly and steeled himself, then rose and disappeared at a Vampiric speed. He needed to stave the bleeding before the scent became to noticeable. Even in the process of him slowing in the hall, he shirked the white suit jacket, careful to keep the blood off it, and began unbottoning the black shirt. Blood was rolling in lazy rivulets down his chest from the opened stitches. Damn that Were. Damn him to the darkest, most fiery pit in hell.

[Doctor]

Anshel napped most of the car ride over. The past few weeks at Court had been exhausting in a manner that made every bit of him feel weighted down. How Bartholomew managed to stay as sane and as a good a person as he did with so much resting on his shoulders and so many demanding his time and dedication Anshel had no idea. And if he'd known where the prick was hiding, he'd write him a letter and beg for a copy of his methodology.

Intel was working on what little they had, which was very little considering Melora had somehow misplaced her family's devices (like he believed that for a second). Unfortunately, little came up to tie Konstantin to the murder and all they had to go on was a rare bit of mineral that gave a vague idea of where the undead bastard or his supplier might be.

Perhaps the only bright spot of the past weeks was Melora. To Anshel's awe and gratitude, she had seemed to take in his words and made no mad attempts to escape her sentence. Twice a day he was updated on her progress and, without fail, she met every expectation. She spent her days resting and reading and made no fuss about her physician's visits. So, even though he was convinced she was hiding those gadgets, she had given him some relief and something to actually be proud in. In fact, the physician had come by the day he left the Court for Moroi territory to tell him Melora was out of immediate danger and that exorcism would cause her some discomfort and stiffness, but not death. The thought brought a soft smile to his lips. He really should reward her, he thought. Maybe when he got back to the Court he would treat her to a meal and some shopping and talk about possibly ending her probation.

The ride became bumpy as the car was taken off road and onto the long, winding driveway to the Spire. Anshel took the opportunity to look out the window and survey the Moroi base. It had been decades since he last visited with Bartholomew. Five or so maybe. He remembered Steven and his wife had been alive and welcoming. The relationship between his clan in the Moroi had always been amiable in the past. The Lord and Lady were courteous and fair and quite perfect for their position and Bartholomew held a soft spot for the family. He knew for a fact a few Moroi criminals had been given some leeway as a result. They had been trusted to handle their own. However, after their murder, relations became tense. Bartholomew offered services to the clan in investigating the attack, but it was promptly declined by new management. Understandable. Clan's usually preferred to be left to their own devices for such personal matters. Unfortunately, that period of isolation never ended, making his visit that much more crucial.

The grounds had grown more beautiful if that was possible.

The car pulled up and Anshel exited, but not before putting on the professional face he'd gotten used to removing and replacing the past few weeks. It had been long a time and he wasn't exactly sure what he would be facing diplomatically. He fixed his hair in the reflection of the passenger window and frowned at how much concealer he'd had to use to cover the dark spots under his eyes. The judge had been sleeping very little.

A group of four ushered him inside and one recognized him, perhaps from long ago or from a recent trial. She directed him to a seat in the lobby and after settling himself Anshel finally took everything in. It looked so different, so... modern. Curious. Most clans preferred to keep the relics of their ages, being relics themselves. There was something youthful and business appropriate about the decor. The table beside him even had magazines! Delightful.

Anshel's hands hovered over the fan of glossy papers and quickly circumvented the business journals to land on a trashy gossip magazine. Opening the pages, he grinned, eyes hungry for the common drama. Celebrities came and went - Columbus, Queen Elizabeth, Marilyn Monroe, Britney Spears - the people were different but the stories were all the same and that was comforting.

Turning a page that bored him with an advertisement for suffocating perfume, his finger carelessly slid down the sharp side of it and Anshel flinched, pulling his hand away, but not before a drop of blood escaped and stained the face of an ugly Real Housewife of some suburb or another.

[AzuraGallu]

Azura stared at his phone for a moment, amused smile tugging at the once downturned corners of his lips. It seemed Melora had found herself in a whole new arena of trouble. This time, however, she was lucky enough to have met an assassin. Though he couldn't be sure, he felt confident in placing the man, by accent only, to the Akoto.
Interesting. So even the Akoto were sending out their men and women, for whatever reason. They were killing something, and it wasn't the occasional Were. He'd only ever seen an Akoto once, in passing and only with his father. The man wasn't tall and imposing as he'd always imagined them to be as a child, but compact; short. They were lined with lean muscle and had an aptitude for mixing poisons that would turn you green just thinking about it. With a fondness he remembered watching as the man's clothing swept around him airily and loose as he extended a hand to Azura's father, the older man taking it in turn a mere scrap of paper passing between them.
It seemed he should have paid more attention as a child, perhaps this whole situation could have been avoided if...
He lifted his head, turning it slowly upon his shoulders, nostrils flaring slightly to pick up the scent. It was faint, but like a drop of blood in the ocean, Azura was the shark to follow it for miles to see the source; especially this source.
His feet carried him hurriedly through the halls, mind intent on finding the scent, seeking it out like a hound to hare as he descended the entry steps he'd accidentally (and fortunately found). The his eyes fell on one of the most welcome sights he'd seen in these arduous past few weeks.
"Anshel!" he practically yelled with excitement, crossing the distance between them and pouncing on him in the blink of an eye, taking the demon to the floor. His arms wrapped around his torso, cheek rubbing happily against his chest like a contented cat, even complete with a satisfied purr.

[Christopher Saunders]

Christopher had hurried off to his bedroom, hastily having one of his personal Healers, Cassandra, restitch up the wounds that required it. Anesthesia wasn’t needed, and would rarely really work on a Vampire well after all. Why couldn't immunity to silver also extend to wolf claws? It would’ve been nice to have it healed up by now and the obnoxious distractions that were stitches free from his flesh.

Using the bowl of dirt on his nightstand, rich and fertilized, he focused, making a few stems of aloe pop up from the soil. He plucked it up and dabbed the sappy liquid along the new stitches.

Serena murmured something, tossing the black shirt in the waste basket as she turned to his closet and took another shirt off the wrack: this one a deep crimson. “Here.” She growled, nearly shoving it into him along with a black tie.

“What’s got you in a bunch?” He asked in a nearly hurt tone, throwing the tie around his neck calmly. She glared at him, and strode over to the window.

Upon exiting the room and walking at a distracted pace down the hall, Chris was informed by one of his Guards that the Kind Azura had moved… and that a new Guest had arrived.

Slipping on the second sleeve of his shirt, he was just entering the foyer to see Azura atop a man, affectionately nuzzling him like a kitten. A shiver went up his spine. This man on the floor had tamed the beast, had he?

Christopher continued buttoning the jacket at a human pace, a brief glimpse of of three eight inch long stitched lines on his chest in view. He set to work with the tie. “I wasn’t aware of any other Guests arriving...” He said slowly, blonde eyebrows knitting together. Green eyes so much like his Mother’s looked at Anshel as though he were trying to figure out a puzzle.

[Doctor]

The wind was immediately knocked out of his chest with an oomph once the wall of a man crashed into him, effectively lifting his body from his seat to slam onto the tile. His head smacked against the cold surface with the tiniest crack, but just a moment and the swelling of pain dissipated and Anshel was once again overcome with the feeling of deja vu. This had happened before. Looking down at his chest, he found the familiar culprit, only this time the touch was intensely affectionate instead of homicidal.

Anshel's hand came up to cradle the back of Azura's head. Only a trial of separation and that sliver of awkwardness between the two was long forgotten and left unvisited.

"Azura," he felt the vampire's hair, clean and thick surrounding his fingers. He tucked in his chin and smiled down at him. "I didn't know we'd be here at the same time." The king's weight and nuzzling brought a comfort that evaded him these past few weeks the only way a good friend could. "I'm so happy to see you." Anshel's voice was tired, but still conveyed his elation.

Their reunion was abruptly interrupted by the clip of shoes and the level voice of a young man. Anshel tried to break apart from Azura, but it was proving difficult, so he merely stood as best he could with the man around his waist. After an attempt at a bow, he finally looked up to a face that was surprisingly familiar. More defined and masculine than he remembered and the boy was maybe four feet taller, but he'd recognized those eyes.

"Christopher," he breathed the name, stunned to see him, though really, where else would he be? He looked the boy up and down, taking in his height and dress and top-heavy build, smiling toothily at finding him healthy and cultured. "Oh my... Look at you, you're all grown up! You take after your mother."

[AzuraGallu]

"I missed you." Azura squeezed his eyes shut, thankful that someone, somewhere, and with some difficulty and kindness had answered his silent requests to be delivered from the tedium of political matters. While if the issue at hand was tedious, with Anshel it would always be a bit more bearable and fun, given the demon's aptitude for pissing other's off. He was almost as good as Azura was, in fact.
However, all too soon his escape from responsibility was snatched away in the form of a young vampire in a nicely pressed dress shirt that was halfway undone. If he didn't know better, he'd say the upstart was trying to pull something. That simple thought nearly caused a small growl, unbidden, to rise from his throat in protest.
He saw the demon judge first!
Though that statement as well quickly faded into obscurity, seeing as Anshel spoke the King's name with recognition. He supposed it wouldn't have been too terribly unlikely that the two met before. After all, the Banglaire weren't just in dealings with the Gallu, but all immortals. Still, it didn't stop him from becoming possessive and downright bitchy if the need arose, though he curbed his temper quite nicely, plastering on a pleasant smile for the two men in the room.

[Christopher Saunders]

Christopher’s eyes narrowed in concentration for a moment longer before smile changed his features entirely. “I’ll be damned.” He chuckled, unable to help himself, those words spoken in a low murmur. Picking his voice back up, he inclined his head to Anshel. It felt like a century since he’d last seen the eccentric immortal, though in reality it’d only been about... forty three years. Even in the mind of a seven year old, he’d been able to remember him. The last button of the shirt was fastened seconds later.

“Long time no see, Anshel.” He pulled his tie straight, the smile turning to his own fanged grin. “And so I’ve been told by some of my Father’s friends.” In a deft movement he slipped on the white suit jacket once more.

His eyes flicked to Anshel’s arm that supported Azura for a fraction of a second at a Vampire speed, then to the Judge’s face. “How have things been running for you? You appear in good health.” He commented, taking on a facet similar to his Mother’s personality: an unbridled childlike curiosity and well-wishes for others.

[Doctor]

Relief rolled over him in waves. Anshel hadn't known what to expect, but he wasn't prepared to find himself such a delightful surprise. Christopher did indeed remember him and the boy was as loving and kind as he was back then. This made things infinitely easier on his end.

With new jitters of happiness, he moved forward, letting his hand slip out of Azura's, and with open arms embraced the boy. He ruffled his hair a bit before moving away, still keeping close and pouring out concerns for his well being.

"I never thought I'd see you again after the accident! I wasn't even allowed to visit for the longest time. Are you alright? Permanent damage?" He looked the boy up and down again and over his shoulders as if he would be able to see any scars underneath his attire. Without giving the Lord any time to answer, Anshel continued to blabber and throw inquiries out haphazardly. "How was your school? Are you eating well? Combat training?" He lifted Christopher's chin with the entitlement of a relative. "Oh, you've grown to be so handsome. I bet you get all the ladies! Do you still have that pony? Buttercup, or Daffodil, or whatever stupid thing we named it? No, it's probably dead by now."

Anshel continued to fuss, oblivious to all else.

[AzuraGallu]

Azura sat on the floor, legs crossed and arms draped over them as he watched the two catch up. The set of his eyes was curious, but as the preening continued he found himself more and more tired; more and more unwilling to sit through this meaningless drivel while he had work to do. That and his suit really didn't afford him the room in certain regions to stay in criss-crossed position for long. it was just another thing that he would like to see pleasantly gone along with the threat of conflict. His warnings fell on deaf ears, apparently, for the two were circling each other like strutting roosters, and at one time he would have been in their shoes, enjoying the attention, he couldn't be allowed any such luxury until his job was finished; if it were to ever be done at all. That's right, he couldn't afford to cozy up to his friends, enjoy time with them and pretend this was all a bad dream. They, as Hunters would be able to escape, and now he cared little for the young King. It was obvious he'd be of little help unless he had an advisor.
Standing, generously adjusting to free himself from the pinch in the seams of his suit, he backed up and turned, catching the eye of one of his guards who motioned him into the room adjacent to the one the men were still chatting on in. He was relieved, and a little sad, having looked forward to speaking with Anshel from the moment he'd smelled his blood; relieved because he was afraid he'd do something terribly un-PC if he were made to watch that reunion any longer than he had to.
"Have you said all you wished to say to the Moroi?" his guard asked, genuinely curious.
"Yes. I don't believe they'll be of much help, but at least he didn't mention any threatening news on their part. They seem safe enough. For now, we'll just have to assume the Gallu are a singular target and protect ourselves as such." He said, voice a little sullen. He'd come all this way for nothing...mere tidings and embellishments better suited to ego boosting times of peace.
"Then should we leave?" he asked again, eyes flitting with concern over his King. Usually so boyish and youthful, he now appeared aged, even in just the span of an hour or two.
"Yes. I need to get back and look over our rations again. We need to make sure we aren't running out of blood or the nearby villages might be compromised. That's not a fate I'd wish on humans."
"Me either."
They talked quietly, speaking freely to another person doing a spell to lift his mood.