Alira Drakrul
08-14-2006, 04:10 PM
Alira entered her haven, pausing in the doorway briefly as she listened and breathed in deep, her senses acute. No unfamiliar scents, only those she governed as the head of an odd assortment of what could only be called family. She could hear Portia upstairs in her room, a slight rustling of a page as she undoubtedly thumbed through yet another tome in their library. The other inhabitants of the haven appeared absent. Their scents lingering and fresh as if they had visited earlier in the evening, but obviously out attending to their own matters. She ran a delicate, well-manicured hand over the doorway glyphs; they glowed faintly in recognition, pulsing softly as if they held a heartbeat of their own. She stepped inside, the well-armored doors bolting behind her by unseen magic, reassuring her of the security. She relaxed visibly, finally letting down her guard in the security of her solitude. Although her movements did not express any mention of fatigue, nor her face any weary, those very familiar would although have recognized she was exhausted. Not in the physical sense, since her kind do not suffer from such mortal trappings. They do not experience the build up of poisons in their muscles, the pulling and aching, after a long fight or a strenuous run. Her weariness bubbled from within, her mind still sharp, but subdued as it relaxed in the security and comfort of her domain.
She sat down in her favorite chair, the soft cushion giving slightly and cradling her in unspoken comfort. She closed her eyes, dwelling on the meeting that she had just returned from and going over the conversation as if a movie reel played in her mind.
She had made several mistakes in hindsight. She pursed her full lips in slight irritation at the realization. She despised anything short of simple perfection when it came to such matters. “All and all, it went well,” she thought, her inner voice reflective and distant. She knew her own performance was almost flawless. It wasn’t true deception; she knew she was honest in her words. She continued to ponder, her silent dialogue now adopting a more serious tone to it, “To lie is to is show weakness. It shows that your intelligence and wit can’t out maneuver your opponent. If I can not find a path around falsehood, than I deserve the consequences the truth brings.”
Her high intelligence and wit are some of her most valuable assets, however they were also one of her weaknesses. She naturally looked down on those who weren’t as sharp, holding herself on a pedestal above them. Intelligence wasn’t a necessity of the herd or even most of humanity, however among those of her kin, she viewed any lack thereof with extreme inner irritation. “Some of those that receive the dark blessing are an insult to the nature of what we should be. They are merely puppets and playthings for the elders. Quick to violence, they show utter disregard for the larger consequences of their actions.” She had heard talk of some of the other kindred, their amusement, even sickening delight reminiscent of past mortality in the latest invasion as humans were slaughtered in the thousands. She smirked to herself, mild annoyance at such a lack of scope of their feeble minds winding through her consciousness fed by her drive to self-preservation more than compassion towards humanity. She realized the truth, few of her kindred seemed to. “Unless they want to resort to feeding from rats and mice like housecats, they ought to reevaluate their stance on this invasion.”
She paused in her thoughts, as footsteps outside her haven trickled into her mind. Not even bothering to open her eyes to look out the window, she allowed her heightened sense of hearing to accomplish the task of identity for her. She could hear the repetitive beat of the footfalls as they skipped towards the entryway. She could her a feminine quality to the soft, random humming. It followed no known song or melody, but a sporadic internal monologue that only the singer only apparently knew. The footfalls were heavier than a child, but held a gleeful quality that no mature, sane woman would perform in public willingly. “Kismet,” Alira thought silently. Alira remembers discovering the eighteen year old wandering the woods outside yew, apparently quite insane. She was wearing a tattered elegant dress, and talking to anyone who would listen. Alira had followed the girl for several nights, drawn to the ramblings as she strode through the outskirts of Yew. She had planned to end the girl’s madness, but the more she listened to her… the more she seemed captivated by the girl’s solitary, vibrant speeches. So she had taken her into her fold until she could come to some inner conclusion regarding what to do with her. At times it seemed to be pure delightful chaos that spun within the girl’s mind, at other times there were glimpses of a dark, manipulating intelligence with a raw outlook on the world through her eyes.
Alira stopped in the reflection and opened her light blue eyes to watch the doors as she heard the latch click as Kismet entered. Alira’s eyes watched her as Kismet entered, studying the girl expressionless.
Kismet’s face was oozing happiness, almost deliriously so, one hand on her skirt swooshing it dramatically through the air. “Hello Queenie!” the girl announced quite bubbly.
Alira continues studying the girl, silently torn between irritation and fascination, “Good evening, Kismet.”
“I learned something new about myself today! Would you like to know what it is, Queenie? It’s really all sorts of fascinating if’n I do say so myself… which I am saying… so it must be!” Kismet said, her eyes large saucers of excitement as she bubbled with the news.
“I sit on the edge of my seat hovering on your every word, Kismet… Do tell…” Alira replied, the words dropping with obvious sarcasm.
Kismet continues, apparently painfully unaware of Alira’s irritation, “I found that I am an … are you ready for this? … really fascinating and all, truly mind-blowing…”
“Get on with it!” Alira snaps and then growls softly.
“Sheesh, Queenie… you need not get all puppified on me. I discovered that I am…” she pauses briefly as if for effect, “…an illiterate telepath! Isn’t that mind blowing? I mean truly spectacular, definitely unique, I think.”
Alira closed her eyes briefly, running her tongue over her sharp fangs discreetly the internal debate on the girl’s future raging within. When she opened them again, she looked at the girl who was staring right back at her as if expecting a response. “What exactly does that mean?” Alira replied reluctantly.
“It means…” she moves close to Alira, her voice dropping very low and deep, “It means… don’t tell anyone, because if they found out they might be jealous of my ability… It means… that I can not read minds.” Alira froze, almost appearing to stare almost through the girl as she hovered close as if trying to gain some control over an overwhelming urge that threatened her composure. “I’m going to go upstairs now and practice! I need all the practice I can get if I am going to get it right. It’s not an easy talent, you know…” she remarks as she pops back upright and turns. Skipping up the stairs, singing, “Little bug-lady, little lady who is a bug. If you are not my friend I can squash you like the bug you are…”
Alira reached up and rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger. She glanced sidelong at the window; the night sky was becoming lighter as the sun began to rise under the horizon. She stood, and moved silently up the stairs towards her retreat. “It is almost sunrise, Lilian always returns briefly before the sun crests the horizon… predictable. Lilian… she will be the most difficult one to control if this agreement goes forth. She has become headstrong in my absence. I must ensure that she does not jeopardize this arrangement with the rangers and other Skaran socialites.” Alira thought as she entered her windowless room. She closed the door behind her, the bar sliding across the thick frame for added security. She laid down in her bed, comfortable, the sounds of the house around her singing her to sleep. The sound of the hem of Lilian’s robes brushing against stone as she moved up the stairs, the ‘mmm’ sound from Kismet’s room as she practiced her new found talent in a mirror, the sound of a book being tossed on a table from Portia’s room as she too readied herself to rest during the scorching daylight hours. Alira slipped into a light sleep, her mind already devising a plan to deal with the troubling wild card … Lilian.
She sat down in her favorite chair, the soft cushion giving slightly and cradling her in unspoken comfort. She closed her eyes, dwelling on the meeting that she had just returned from and going over the conversation as if a movie reel played in her mind.
She had made several mistakes in hindsight. She pursed her full lips in slight irritation at the realization. She despised anything short of simple perfection when it came to such matters. “All and all, it went well,” she thought, her inner voice reflective and distant. She knew her own performance was almost flawless. It wasn’t true deception; she knew she was honest in her words. She continued to ponder, her silent dialogue now adopting a more serious tone to it, “To lie is to is show weakness. It shows that your intelligence and wit can’t out maneuver your opponent. If I can not find a path around falsehood, than I deserve the consequences the truth brings.”
Her high intelligence and wit are some of her most valuable assets, however they were also one of her weaknesses. She naturally looked down on those who weren’t as sharp, holding herself on a pedestal above them. Intelligence wasn’t a necessity of the herd or even most of humanity, however among those of her kin, she viewed any lack thereof with extreme inner irritation. “Some of those that receive the dark blessing are an insult to the nature of what we should be. They are merely puppets and playthings for the elders. Quick to violence, they show utter disregard for the larger consequences of their actions.” She had heard talk of some of the other kindred, their amusement, even sickening delight reminiscent of past mortality in the latest invasion as humans were slaughtered in the thousands. She smirked to herself, mild annoyance at such a lack of scope of their feeble minds winding through her consciousness fed by her drive to self-preservation more than compassion towards humanity. She realized the truth, few of her kindred seemed to. “Unless they want to resort to feeding from rats and mice like housecats, they ought to reevaluate their stance on this invasion.”
She paused in her thoughts, as footsteps outside her haven trickled into her mind. Not even bothering to open her eyes to look out the window, she allowed her heightened sense of hearing to accomplish the task of identity for her. She could hear the repetitive beat of the footfalls as they skipped towards the entryway. She could her a feminine quality to the soft, random humming. It followed no known song or melody, but a sporadic internal monologue that only the singer only apparently knew. The footfalls were heavier than a child, but held a gleeful quality that no mature, sane woman would perform in public willingly. “Kismet,” Alira thought silently. Alira remembers discovering the eighteen year old wandering the woods outside yew, apparently quite insane. She was wearing a tattered elegant dress, and talking to anyone who would listen. Alira had followed the girl for several nights, drawn to the ramblings as she strode through the outskirts of Yew. She had planned to end the girl’s madness, but the more she listened to her… the more she seemed captivated by the girl’s solitary, vibrant speeches. So she had taken her into her fold until she could come to some inner conclusion regarding what to do with her. At times it seemed to be pure delightful chaos that spun within the girl’s mind, at other times there were glimpses of a dark, manipulating intelligence with a raw outlook on the world through her eyes.
Alira stopped in the reflection and opened her light blue eyes to watch the doors as she heard the latch click as Kismet entered. Alira’s eyes watched her as Kismet entered, studying the girl expressionless.
Kismet’s face was oozing happiness, almost deliriously so, one hand on her skirt swooshing it dramatically through the air. “Hello Queenie!” the girl announced quite bubbly.
Alira continues studying the girl, silently torn between irritation and fascination, “Good evening, Kismet.”
“I learned something new about myself today! Would you like to know what it is, Queenie? It’s really all sorts of fascinating if’n I do say so myself… which I am saying… so it must be!” Kismet said, her eyes large saucers of excitement as she bubbled with the news.
“I sit on the edge of my seat hovering on your every word, Kismet… Do tell…” Alira replied, the words dropping with obvious sarcasm.
Kismet continues, apparently painfully unaware of Alira’s irritation, “I found that I am an … are you ready for this? … really fascinating and all, truly mind-blowing…”
“Get on with it!” Alira snaps and then growls softly.
“Sheesh, Queenie… you need not get all puppified on me. I discovered that I am…” she pauses briefly as if for effect, “…an illiterate telepath! Isn’t that mind blowing? I mean truly spectacular, definitely unique, I think.”
Alira closed her eyes briefly, running her tongue over her sharp fangs discreetly the internal debate on the girl’s future raging within. When she opened them again, she looked at the girl who was staring right back at her as if expecting a response. “What exactly does that mean?” Alira replied reluctantly.
“It means…” she moves close to Alira, her voice dropping very low and deep, “It means… don’t tell anyone, because if they found out they might be jealous of my ability… It means… that I can not read minds.” Alira froze, almost appearing to stare almost through the girl as she hovered close as if trying to gain some control over an overwhelming urge that threatened her composure. “I’m going to go upstairs now and practice! I need all the practice I can get if I am going to get it right. It’s not an easy talent, you know…” she remarks as she pops back upright and turns. Skipping up the stairs, singing, “Little bug-lady, little lady who is a bug. If you are not my friend I can squash you like the bug you are…”
Alira reached up and rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger. She glanced sidelong at the window; the night sky was becoming lighter as the sun began to rise under the horizon. She stood, and moved silently up the stairs towards her retreat. “It is almost sunrise, Lilian always returns briefly before the sun crests the horizon… predictable. Lilian… she will be the most difficult one to control if this agreement goes forth. She has become headstrong in my absence. I must ensure that she does not jeopardize this arrangement with the rangers and other Skaran socialites.” Alira thought as she entered her windowless room. She closed the door behind her, the bar sliding across the thick frame for added security. She laid down in her bed, comfortable, the sounds of the house around her singing her to sleep. The sound of the hem of Lilian’s robes brushing against stone as she moved up the stairs, the ‘mmm’ sound from Kismet’s room as she practiced her new found talent in a mirror, the sound of a book being tossed on a table from Portia’s room as she too readied herself to rest during the scorching daylight hours. Alira slipped into a light sleep, her mind already devising a plan to deal with the troubling wild card … Lilian.