Secrets

[AzuraGallu]

Azura presented her with his back and looked snobbily over his shoulder at her. "I do not slam my lovers against walls. It's rude." He stated simply, glaring at her out of his single visible eye. "And I also wasn't scared of your shiny toy. I just simply didn't want you to kill her. I want the satisfaction. She's mine," he finished, pupils narrowing, brows furrowing in possessive rage.
The muscles bunched in his shoulders as he ventured back to thoughts of who was responsible fro his father's death, and the fact that mayhap the culprit was just within striking distance.

[MeloraBelikov]

"Sorry," she stated plainly, "I was doing my job." I might as well be a glorified babysitter like this, Melora thought to herself, inching past him and out the doorway into the hall. "Right, shall we get ready then? We may have had a bit of a snag, but the council will not be understanding if we are terribly late." Melora walked down the hall, deep in thought about the Blackraven who had just been dragged down this very hall. Finally, they reached their destination. "Here you are. I"ll see you in just a bit." With that, she went to her own room to prepare.

[Rima Elaine Donavon]

Rima reclined back against the wall, folding her arms across her chest in a visible gesture of annoyance. Her eyes became hooded, then slitted beneath the partially closed lids. The lines in the room were slightly blurred, Rima noticed. Unbuttoning the breath pocket on her jacket, she slipped on her glasses before returning her arms to the previous position.

It was unjust of these Hunters’ to just throw her in a cell. It was just so barren! Her thoughts were beginning to shift to Italian, simply to stifle the bristling attitude from emerging. ‘No pitture, N Art, né i colori di qualsiasi tipo.’ The least they could do is have some sort of floral border.

‘Of course, they might have good reason to keep you here for now.’ The more logical part of her mind ventured to say. Along with her doubts on taking the Mona Lisa, she also began to consider why she had even descended in becoming a killer.

And that logic behind the thought came into play: human, and non-human, aggressive, and ignorance. It was the Hunters’ fault in the first place for killing off her Brother.

The only sign of the tumble of thoughts roaring through her head was a slightly curled upper lip, which immediately smoothed to the normal contour when a Hunter cast a look her way.

[Doctor]

Two months into his resurrection, Anshel went through a very dark period. Some would call him vain and narcissistic now, but that first year of renewed life was met with intense self-loathing and depression. It took him a month to reacquaint himself with the living world and another to begin tentatively socializing again. Food was still tasty, water was quenching, laughter and attention made glee bubble deliciously in his chest. Handshakes and hugs and soft caresses – they all felt the way he remembered them to. But even so, his new world was a greatly disturbing place. It was the pain that was missing. The weakness. A stab-wound could bring him to tears, but seconds later the pain would fade into nothingness and any evidence but the blood staining his clothes and skin disappeared with it. Broken noses would realign, cracked bones would fuse together, and on encounters with far superior swordsmen, well, he merely had to pick up the pieces of himself and stick them back where they belonged. Strength was frightening. No man should have that power. And the roiling mass of trepidation and revulsion that sat, always patiently, low in his gut, the one that would radiate out and clench his heart and feel into his head… He quickly came to understand it as his inability to reconcile what he was with what he desperately wanted to be. It was his inability to look in the mirror and see a human man looking back.

Anshel got over it. Eventually. With time and many predicaments, he came to appreciate that particular clause in his Satanic contract. For example, when a prostitute tried to steal his kidneys in his sleep. But there were times, like this one, he wished that gift was not so all-encompassing – the morning after a raucous transgression, standing under the hot shower, desperately wanting to soothe the aching muscles that were not there.

He shut the water off and stepped into the steam that had crossed into the rest of the washroom. He grabbed a towel and briskly dried his hair, and when Anshel looked into the mirror this time, he saw a fine man staring back.

To that man he added just a brush of rouge, enough to make those well defined cheeks a bit peachier, for he’d decided today that that man would be wearing his dark emerald duster and wouldn’t that touch of color compliment it perfectly?

The videophone on his nightstand finally displayed an appointment time. If they were to make it on time to the council hearing, it would be wise to gather his team now.

Anshel made his way down the hallway, the bottom of his duster swishing perfectly behind him. With Melora and Azura in tow, he led them to the arches of the Justices’ chamber.

On arrival, they saw the judges’ table was empty. Ten hunters, all of distinguished countenance, now sat in chairs that created a circle on the courtroom’s floor. Two chairs and a stiff, tall-backed throne sat in front of them, completing the shape.

Judge Nikeese spoke first, black eyes and black skin reflecting the warm lights that hung above them all. “Our gathering is complete,” he nodded to the women standing in the doorway. The hunters closed the heavy doors behind them, sealing the room and leaving the hunters and vampire King alone at last. “We may now proceed.”

“Anshel Lochem of Sodom, requesting consent to take my seat.” Anshel rolled the familiar introduction off his tongue, then looked to his companions to do the same.

[AzuraGallu]

Azura merely inclined his head to the Hunter's assembled, piercing golden eyes staring without wavering at each and every man or woman present. When he was finished, he looked directly ahead, speaking loudly and clearly enough for all to hear.
"Azura Gallu," he stated. If he had to name his position, none of these Hunter's deserved to be here. That was all he was giving them because, while willing to listen to their request of him, he was still Gallu, and still wary of all creatures who put weapons to his kind.
But he was still very fond of the two he'd come to be friends with in just a few days.
The half-cape rested on his shoulder, shielding one of his hands from sight. If there were to be any complications, it would be his element of surprise on all of them.
He could defend himself alone, but in being surrounded, he became much edgier. Of course the King still thought of himself as the predator.
A wolf in a pen of defenseless lambs.

[MeloraBelikov]

"Melora Belikov of Russia," She introduced herself, words even more heavily accented than normal. She sounded professional, but each moment spent in the court drew from her patience, which was already waning due to the encounter that they'd had earlier. In her mind, it was unacceptable that no one had noticed the intruder before she had to step in. A lapse in security, she guessed, that wouldn't be likely to happen again. Melora noted that her usual translator was MIA, and she sincerely hoped that she'd never have to listen to the woman mangle Melora's beloved first language ever again. Perhaps the court had taken notice that she wasn't exactly inept when it came to English, and therefore didn't need to waste time with a translator.

Finally, after the formalities, they were all asked to be seated. Melora took her seat where designated, sweeping her skirt under her to sit in a lady like manor. She hoped that the meeting would go by quickly, though she knew it wouldn't, so she prepared things in her mind to dwell on during the boring chatter of the diplomats before her.

[Doctor]

With Melora in her seat, Anshel surveyed the circle of congress and voiced a concern about the arrangement, “There seems to be a mix up. Silly of me, I should have clarified Ms. Belikov would be joining us. We’ll need one more seat and the High Judge’s chair removed as he will not be present.” He moved to turn around and ask the huntresses outside for assistance, but he was stopped by the deep baritone of Judge Nikeese.

“There is no mix up. There is a seat for Azura Gallu and one for you,” he said. Nikeese smiled softly, the stark white of his teeth peeking out from between his full lips. “It is only right as acting High Judge that you are met with the same ceremony, Anshel,” he claimed matter-of-factly.

Anshel’s blue eyes bugged out and he was distinctly aware that his breath had caught and that he should resume breathing if he could only remember how. A long silence passed.

“I’m sorry, but… what?” He used what was left of the air in his lungs to ask.

Judge Nikeese met the eyes of his peers surrounding him with a quizzical brow before bringing them back up to Anshel’s. “We assumed you were informed,” he stated apologetically. “It was in the High Judge’s departing instructions that you would fill his seat in his absence. This council is yours to lead.”

Oh no. Oh no.

Anshel turned his back to the party and took four steps away, finally taking in a deep breath. He slid a warm hand down his face which wore a fiercely stunned expression. “Oh, fuck me.” He let loose a horrified, quivering laugh.

This was so fucked up. What was that crazy old bastard thinking when he did this? He thought they were friends. Was Bartholomew’s departure so expedient that he lapsed into a moment of mental retardation? He didn’t want this responsibility. Hell, he was having a hard enough time conforming to the decorum expected of a judge, and now he was a goddamned figurehead?! What the fuck? Why him?

“What the fuck? Why me?” Anshel demanded turning back towards the assembly, ruffled and a little scared. “I… I don’t want it! I’ve never wanted it!”

Anshel searched for answers in the eyes of his fellow judges. Carnacion, Darius, Ping – his eyes settled back on Nikeese’s. He and Nikeese always got along. Surely he’d ease Anshel’s tripping heart and reveal this was all just an incredibly well-thought out joke. He found no such relief from his words.

“I imagine that is why you were chosen.” Nikeese held his eyes firmly the way a man would when soothing his animal, demanding Anshel focus on the soothing tones of his voice. “It will be alright Anshel. You are the best prepared for the position. And while your reputation and other allegiances may conflict with the expectations of this appointment,” a nice way of saying his boozing and whoring and ties to the Devil weren’t what the Banglaire wanted to promote as their image, “Your record nonetheless shows you to be very… honorable. Impartial. Capable of mercy. He trusts you to do the right thing.” Anshel desperately hung to every word, finding some solace in what was offered. “I trust you,” Nikeese finished. He sounded honest.

Shit.

Anshel stroked the familiar armrest of the decorated chair and moved in front of it. With his eyes never leaving Nikeese’s he slowly, so slowly, lowered himself on trembling knees and arm down onto the seat. His shoulders relaxed slightly when his ass somehow found itself firmly supported by the throne. He leaned backwards, hoping the backrest would support him should he pass out.

Anshel breathed deep. “I call this assembly to order,” he said, although he was unsure if anyone could actually hear him, his perception of volume temporarily very off. He needed a few moments to calm himself and figure out what the hell he was going to do. Someone else needed to be talking right now.

“Azura, you have the floor,” Anshel dictated quickly. “Please, inform us of what details you have about King Sargon’s death.”

[AzuraGallu]

Azura stood, raising a single, impressed, black brow in Anshel's direction before he brought his hands forward, preparing to speak. The room seemed less threatening now that Anshel was seated at the head, though it wasn't because he considered the Hunter a friend. It was because Anshel had a naturally calming presence, at least when the King wans't bashing his head into marble floors.
"The Gallu have very limited information on how the late King Sargon died. Per normal protocol, we conducted an autopsy, discovering that it appeared the King had been strangled. However," he paused, composing himself. So soon after his father's death, it was normal that he be a little upset. But as a Gallu, it was shameful. He needed to grow a backbone or suffer the humiliation of his entire clan. "There were no physical signs of a struggle. Everyone here knows a Gallu, even the eldest of us, will put up a decent fight when it comes down to life or death. And I do not believe my father wished to perish. The culprit of this act is assumed to be of Blackraven origin considering the letters my father happened to be sending to the High Judge here. While I was unaware of them until the events after his death, upon reading them I discovered he believed the Blackraven clan to be capable of some kind of psychic weaponry."
He looked up, meeting Nikeese's eyes, then sliding his gaze over to Anshel.

[Doctor]

Anshel met Azura's gaze. He inclined his head in thanks and spoke with his eyes another condolence for his loss.

He had quickly divided the room into two groups: allies and potential foes. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly considering that morning, King Azura of the Gallu was quickly filed under ally. Who would have thought? Remember that time you tried to kill me? And then not even a day later we fucked? Anshel wanted to ask him. The mutual laugh would have settled the butterflies that tickled his stomach and made him want to vomit.

"The Banglaire share in your grief," he extended the customary reply. Did his voice crack? No. No, he wasn't ready to resume talking yet.

"We will revisit those concerns shortly." His speech was rushed. "Ms. Belikov! Report the happenings of your mission up to the point you and I were reunited."

He slipped off the emerald duster, leaving him in his egg-shell button-up and asymmetrical gold vest. It had gotten much warmer since they entered the room, or at least Anshel thought it did.

[MeloraBelikov]

The shock of the High Judge's decision hit hard, but she would have time to mull over that bit of fuckery when there wasn't a job to be done.

Melora stood, following commands almost as if she had no will of her own. Court hearings were terrible meetings where she had to behave herself and act according to certain regulations. "My mission was to locate Azura Gallu, provide my assistance to him in whatever he was working on at the time as good will from the Banglaire, and ask his presence in our court, which he has graciously provided." She gave him a small tip of her head in thanks, acknowledging the fact that he had indeed been gracious to her despite the fact that she was a hunter and he was a vampire. "In Russia I was directed to Nery, our contact, who was more than helpful when it came to giving me information. In the night I found King Azura, who was working his way through a building of attackers. I assisted, as per my instructions. We found that the attack was led by an older man, a human, who informed us that the late King had passed, claiming that though he had not killed him, he has sent someone else to do so. He was not clear on whether or not the King's attacker had been one person or a group."

Melora paused, lingering on Azura's face to take in his expression. Her own expression had probably changed, she had probably cast emotion to her voice, which she likely wouldn't have done otherwise. She cleared her throat before continuing, "After the encounter I explained the reason I had been sent, and followed Azura to his temporary residence in Moscow, where he had gotten us plane tickets to Ankara. We left from there to my apartment. Unfortunately, my previous contact Nery decided to attack me. King Azura made short work of her, as we needed to continue on," She drew a short breath, refraining from using any tone of annoyance. The court had set her up with an untrustworthy vampire as a contact, and she had almost been made a snack because of it. "We spent the daytime at my apartment, then left for the airport at nightfall. We made our way to Ankara, where I met up with Judge Lochem." Finished with her report and nearly out of patience, she waited to be invited to be seated, shifting her gaze to each member of the court and waiting for questions.

[Doctor]

"Nery?" Judge Darius righted in his chair, aghast. "She is dead? She is one of my most trusted contacts." His expression shifted from confused to upset. He lowered and shook his head in disbelief, then met Melora with narrowed eyes. "You say she attacked you. The Nery I have worked with over thirty years would never." He stated it firmly, the implication was there. Darius was all but vocalizing an accusation, aware of Melora's unique reputation.

"Darius," Anshel had found his voice, adrenaline from seeing the judge in unrest helping him control his nerves. "Look at me," he demanded. Darius' face turned towards him immediately, but it took a moment for his eyes to leave Melora and follow suit. "You will calm down. Ms. Belikov, please elaborate on the details of your encounter with Nery."

[MeloraBelikov]

Melora's eyes narrowed back at her accuser. Realistically, Melora would have killed her. But not simply for being a vampire, for being a vampire who attacked her. Her eyes flicked to Anshel, who likely knew her better than anyone on this council. If anyone could tell she was even more annoyed than before, it would be him. Her slim fingers made contact with her brunette hair, weaving through it and brushing it out of her face.

"Nery and I met in a cafe near my residence. She was an otherwise nice person, I didn't see much wrong with her until she started voicing her attraction towards me," She started, shifting her weight to one foot. She didn't feel like standing before them any longer, but she pushed past her annoyance and continued on. "It was hard to understand her Spanish accent, but I did not mistake what she had said to me, and even less so when she attacked me on the street."

[Doctor]

Judge Darius' head whipped back around to face her. "Spanish accent?" He questioned, baffled. He spoke again, softer this time. "Nery does not have a Spanish accent. She is from Ireland. She is about your height with short red curls. Sounds like a leprechaun." The corner of his mouth twitched up lightly, like he wanted to smile at the word, but the sadness weighing down his features would not let him. "What did your contact look like?" Darius asked.

[MeloraBelikov]

"Irish? Not anything close" Melora shook her head in disbelief. If she didn't know better she'd think that the council member were working their way into insanity member by member. "Нет, she was Spanish. Tall, long dark hair, curvy. With sharp fangs," She noted, raising a hand to her neck, remembering the feeling of the woman's fangs being raked across the spot. "I am sorry, but you must be mistaken. Nery was a hostile contact and was terminated as such." почему? She asked herself, shaking her head again. What a messy mission this was turning out to be. Melora entertained the thought of retiring from the insane world of hunting vampires, but decided that the lure of bringing criminals to pay for their wrongs was just too great. Her green eyes scanned the confused faces of the council, waiting for any more possible questions.

[AzuraGallu]

Azura spoke from his seat, bored to tears. "Nery, or the creature who claimed she was Nery, was dispatched by me, drained of blood and then left to starve to death before she evaporated with the coming sunlight in the streets of Moscow, Russia. If anyone has any further questions, I can demonstrate how such a task is accomplished in detail if someone would be so kind as to volunteer."
He spoke evenly, words nearly monotone. He couldn't comprehend why these humans sought to know the why of everything.
The woman wans't Nery, tried to attack Melora, and was then killed. The problem had solved itself.
He looked around the room, smiling with narrowed eyes at his lack of enthusiastic volunteers.
"Well then, if no one wants to have fun, I say we get back into serious matters."
Leaning back in his chair with his posture ramrod straight, he swung one leg over the other, lacing the fingers of his hands together as he waited for them to decide to not piss of the already angry vampire.