Obscene Symphony

Obscene's Scratchpad

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Hearing that Salem had been drinking made Lilie frown, wondering if that was a common theme, but she supposed if Cassandra and Salem did it, then there must not be anything wrong with it. Aaron’s assurance was a little curious, but there was little time to ask any further, his hand extended to her as he asked her for a dance. He was always a little formal, but this really took the cake. Not that she found herself minding that very much, finding little reason to say no. How hard could a waltz be, anyway?

Lilie gladly took Aaron's hand, nodding happily as she mentally prepared herself, following him as he led her out to the floor. There was still a tiny part of her that was nervous, but she had every reason to believe Aaron would take the lead and she would just have to apologize to anyone she bumped into. That being said, she found herself face-to-face with Aaron--or as face-to-face as she could be with someone almost a whole head taller than she was--as he assumed a starting position. His hand on her waist actually gave her a hint of butterflies in her stomach, making her wonder when was the last time she had been so close to a guy, though as he held her hand in his, she was distracted by how much bigger his hand was than hers. It felt nice and secure, and she took a second to breathe.

“Should I apologize now if I happen to step on your toes?” She asked him as a joke.

Aaron smiled kindly down at Lilie. “Nah, I’m tough,” he assured her with a wink.

The music began, and gently Aaron led Lilie into the first few steps of a simple waltz. Dancing had never been much more to him than another skill he had to master, and he’d danced like this with just about everyone he knew back home, from his mother and aunts to his etiquette teacher back when he was learning. Somehow, though, his heart still managed to flutter at the chance to waltz with Lilie. Even as inexperienced as she was, occasionally getting her legs tangled up with his, her movements were still fluid and alluring, and Aaron found it hard not to stare.

Aaron's confidence was something else tonight, the white-haired girl all but determined not to make a fool of herself. Easier said than done, of course. Lilie should have known better than to agree to something out of her league; she assumed a waltz was simple, but what little experience she had showed as she found herself having to play keep-up with the blonde. Aaron was well practiced, which should have made it easy to follow, but letting someone else take the lead proved a lot harder than it should have been. He was more graceful than she had anticipated, but seeing as how he came from a place where etiquette and poise were the norm, she shouldn't have been surprised.

She mentally counted out the tempo, finding it a little easier to map out her steps as she looked down at her feet. Just as she looked up at him to ask how she was doing, she caught him staring, the mask accentuating his eyes and making her feel like he was looking right through her. Lilie ended up looking back down so quickly she was genuinely surprised her neck hadn’t snapped. He probably thought she was hopeless, her gaze fixated down to prevent him from seeing how embarrassed she was.

To Aaron, on the other hand, dancing came as easily as walking, allowing him to focus more on his partner than his own steps. And focus he did; on how she moved, how shy she suddenly became—there was such a sharp contrast between Lilie in the arena and Lilie in the ballroom that Aaron forgot himself, apparently staring a little too insistently as Lilie averted her eyes when she saw him.

A low chuckle escaped him; he felt a little bad for laughing, but something about a bashful Lilie was just so damn endearing and cute that he couldn’t help himself. She did seem tense, though, staring down at her feet and apparently very concerned about her footsteps.

Suddenly, another flash of courage struck him, and Aaron brought his hand up from Lilie’s waist to her chin, gently tilting her face up so their eyes could meet. “You should be looking at me,” he told her gently, flashing a smile.

His touch alone brought Lilie out of her counting, and the next thing she knew she was looking up at him again. Aaron’s expression was so gentle, so inexplicably warm that she found herself frozen in place, unable to tear her gaze away. She wasn’t sure how she never noticed it before, but his eyes had this gorgeous shade of blue that she hadn’t seen before. Maybe it was her own personal longing to return to a simpler time, but they reminded her a lot of a blue sky on a sunny day.

Still, she found herself smiling with him, having to remind herself to breathe for a second. “Okay…” The word came out so quietly she wasn’t even sure he heard it, unsure why she was finding it hard not to get too excited.

She seemed to catch herself as she realized that now she was the one staring at him, clearing her throat as her brain scrambled trying to think of how to get herself out of that awkwardness. “Where—where did you learn how to dance?” Lilie asked.

Aaron felt none of the awkwardness that Lilie did, him simply thrilled that she seemed to be enjoying his company. He took a deep breath to calm the fluttering in his chest as he placed his hand back on her waist, leaning down a bit so he could hear her when she asked a question.

“The same place I learned everything, Noila Castle,” he replied, airily maneuvering the pair of them away from another couple to avoid a collision. “I think we’re usually supposed to learn around age six, but apparently they started me early because they couldn’t get me to sit still.” He gave Lilie a cheeky grin.

“How about you?” he asked, stepping back and guiding Lilie’s arm up over her head for a spin in tandem with the rest of the dancers, “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

The spin definitely made Lilie dizzy, though she was starting to think it had more to do with her partner than anything. Managing to keep herself rooted, she found herself surprised at his admission that he couldn’t sit still as a child. Aaron was so well-behaved that the idea of him being unruly even as a kid sounded so unlikely to her.

“The only dance experience I have is from my ballet lessons when I was little, unless you count poor Salem pulling me around as I stepped on him,” Lilie shook her head. “Even then I preferred dancing solo, but our group dances were nothing like this.”

Aaron wrinkled his nose. “Oh, I used to hate dancing alone,” he replied, “Cello solos, fine, but anything else always made me too self-conscious.” He laughed a bit, shaking his head before returning the conversation to Lilie. “Ballet though, that’s impressive. Although, considering the fencing, I suppose I should have expected it. Do you still dance?”

Aaron’s humility was admirable, and Lilie had to admit the idea of him being self-conscious made her feel a little closer to him; they had more in common than she thought, even if it was in different ways. At his question, she immediately shook her head. “Oh, no, I went into gymnastics after we couldn’t afford—” She cut herself off as she caught herself again. It was a little too easy to talk to Aaron, but in their current setting and knowing who he was, she felt like it wasn’t the time or place to get into too much detail. “I mean, no. Sorry. I went into gymnastics once I went into high school.”

Despite wanting to get the conversation off of her, Aaron had said something that got her attention. “What do you mean when you say you expected it?” She asked him curiously.

Lilie’s little self-correction made Aaron’s face fall a little, but he wouldn’t press the issue as she moved the conversation along. “Well in my mind, fencing and ballet are similar,” he explained, chuckling. “Probably why I was never good at either.”

He pulled Lilie’s waist a little closer to him as another couple swept close behind her, but continued, unconcerned with a few trajectory adjustments. “Anyway, fencing and ballet both involve a lot of beauty and grace and fluid motion, not to mention complicated footwork.” He could hear Lucan’s voice in his head now, lecturing him about that very thing. “I guess I think it suits you,” he concluded with a smile.

The sudden movement nearly made Lilie lose her footing, clinging onto Aaron. Now that she had let him fully take the lead, the dance was so much easier. For the moment she put that aside as he continued, surprised by his response. Beauty and grace--was that how he thought of her? It was actually very flattering, her smile widening. If she didn’t know any better, she would probably have thought he was flirting with her.

“That’s so sweet of you to think that,” she told him. “I feel more like I’m clunky and constantly stumbling, but if you think I’m graceful, I’ll take the compliment.”

“Good,” Aaron grinned, sweeping Lilie into another spin in tandem with the ballroom. He’d been raised to the standard that refusing a compliment was rude, even if you didn’t believe it; in his opinion, though, her insecurities were wholly unfounded.

The dance picked up a little in pace and complexity as it neared its end, and conversation fell to the wayside as Aaron led Lilie (more or less) through the steps. She spared the occasional glance down at her feet, but otherwise kept her eyes up as Aaron had instructed; Aaron himself was finding it very hard not to lose tempo completely as the threat loomed of getting lost in her eyes. Something about sapphire eyes framed by the gilded edges of a gold mask sucked him in, Lilie’s every move - even her mistakes - captivating him, and soon, all he saw was her. That was, of course, until a flash of red in his periphery told him they were about to knock into another couple spinning by.

Jerked out of his reverie by the realization, Aaron did the only thing he could think of in an instant, grabbing Lilie by the waist and hoisting her up and out of the way. Lilie yelped in surprise and Aaron turned to put her back down on the other side of him, just as the song ended and the other dancers swirled to a stop. The rest of the crowd bowed to each other and clapped for the musicians, but Aaron, a little shocked, could only cover his mouth as he struggled to contain laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed, reaching out apologetically and looking to Lilie with legitimate concern, despite his grin. “Are you alright?”

Lilie had bit down on her lip to prevent her own burst of giggles, nodding. "Yeah! I was just surprised!" She said, fanning herself to cool down her flushed face. After a few seconds she reached under her mask to rub her eye, only to realize her mistake when she saw the side of her finger glittering. Oh shoot, she completely forgot about her makeup, having rubbed her eye out of a slight sleepiness she usually had at this time.

"Um, I just need to fix myself up," she excused herself. "I'll be right back, so wait for me, okay?"

Aaron collected himself enough to nod, still smiling. “Alright, I'll stay here.”

Black Iris Society

Dmitri Rochdale

Glass half empty, glass half full -/- Well either way, you won’t be going thirsty
Count your b l e s s i n g s not your flaws

Name

Dmitri Rochdale

Nicknames

Dima (friends and family, though he won’t balk if you call him that)

Age

As far as the years have dragged him, his goal still lies ahead (Appears in his thirties)

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Asexual

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Dmitri is fairly tall, a bit shorter than his younger brother Mikhail but makes up for it with a more solid, muscular build. He shares the same white hair, pale skin and ice-blue eyes as his siblings, but looks the part of eldest, appearing somewhere in his thirties. He usually wears something between a kind expression and a solemn thousand-yard stare, rarely outwardly emoting beyond a polite smile or disappointed glare. He keeps himself neat and tidy and wears clothes that are simple, but refined; he takes pride in his position, but doesn’t flaunt, usually avoiding jewelry and extravagant clothes unless necessary.

Personality Traits

First and foremost, Dmitri is a gentle soul. Calm and quiet, he takes more after the gentle touch of his mother than the iron fist of his father. Still, he has a commanding presence; though he speaks softly, people tend to listen. Subdued by the centuries of hardship, conflict, and suffering he witnessed his people subjected to, he can seem quiet, even a little somber at times. Still, with others around he does his best to portray the persona of a strong, reliable heir to his father’s throne.

His calm and mellow demeanour often clashes with his brother’s airy confidence and his sister’s intensity, and he often finds himself playing mediator, a skill that has served him well diplomatically in the past. While he questions his father’s methods and intentions, Dmitri remains loyal to his father and the Society, holding duty above all else.

Skills

• Serenity: Dmitri can keep calm in all manner of situations. Only a few times in his long life has temper or panic gotten the better of him, and he’s great in a crisis.
• Approachable: Despite his royal standing, Dmitri has a talent for putting people at ease, a useful skill for an heir trying to build rapport with those below him.
• Leadership: Dmitri is a born leader, people easily fall into step behind him and he holds the responsibility of leading sacrosanct.
• All the physical prowess of a born vampire
• Dmitri is trained in a number of combat styles, ranging from traditional swordsmanship and axe weilding to warfare tactics dating back to WWI, and has seen enough action to have prompted him to hang up his sword in favour of peaceful diplomacy.

Weaknesses

• Merciful: Perhaps not a weakness for most, but definitely considered as such by his father, Dmitri is prone to assuming the better in people and usually errs on the generous or merciful side when dealing with them.
• Trusting: Dmitri is quicker to trust than is wise for someone in his position, specifically of those he believes to be of good character. As an example, his sister would point to Dmitri’s oddly unwavering trust in his brother Mikhail; luckily, this faithful nature has yet to bite him too badly.
• Naive: Dmitri holds onto an optimistic, naive hope for peace, not just among the supernatural subjects of the Black Iris, but between them and the humans as well. Even through his hundreds of years and near-constant exposure to vicious, senseless conflict among all manner of people, he is still disappointed when it happens, and still thinks his vision of a world of species united could become a reality.

History

Dmitri clings more to his memory than his brother does, though lacking the uncanny retention of his sister, it still blurs in places. Some memories are crystal clear, like the day his father and the Council commanded all members of the Black Iris Society to retreat into the shadows or the night that he lost his first friend to the stake. Other times, his memory slips; the smoke and shouting of the night his home was raided by villagers with stakes and torches sometimes slides into the hellish cacophony of mortar fire pounding above as he fought in the trenches of World War I. Over the years he’s kept careful journals, and the pressing details of his life are well recorded.

He was the first child of King Astris Rochdale and his wife, a Russian vampiress whose heritage shone in the names of her children. Dmitri was born some time before the Society ordered its members into hiding, and as such he remembers a time when supernatural species did not hide their nature from their human neighbours. Or at least, not on Council command. But he saw firsthand the barbarism and scorn with which the humans persecuted his people, saw how his own kind and other supernatural species consumed, butchered and cursed them in return. He saw neighbourhood healers strung up as consorts of the Devil, saw entire villages wiped out by gluttonous werewolves, saw vampires steal children only to have themselves and their whole families strung up in the sun for their crimes. What tortured him, though, was that he also saw his people and the humans coexist; a coven of witches who warded their town from evil, a vampiric scholar who uplifted his village with knowledge, werewolf packs who hunted dangerous game for their fellow man when food was scarce, and all along he saw humans who would defend their mythical allies from those who would see them burn.

Dmitri was heartbroken when the order came to hide from humans, but he understood why it was given; though he had hope that his people could coexist peacefully with humans, it was a time when fear and distrust infected humans and the supernatural alike like a plague, poisoning any and all interaction and dooming it all to conflict. As the years wore on, though, he kept waiting for a time when the world could develop enough for a second chance at coexistence, only to find that history had a dastardly way of repeating itself.

With members of the Black Iris long faded into myth and superstition, those he saw as war-hungry humans did what they always did and turned on each other. Bloody battles raged with the supernatural safely in the shadows, though they were not impervious to infighting either. The years between conflicts blend together, but one he remembers well was the First World War, a conflict the scope of which neither he nor anyone had ever seen before, nor expected to see again. Unable to escape conscription without arousing suspicion, Dmitri ended up in the trenches, fighting alongside human soldiers. By then he had grown jaded, seeing humans as vicious warmongering beasts beyond salvation, and he expected the deadliest war in human history to only further confirm his suspicions. But, as he fought as well as he could without drawing attention to his superhuman abilities, the incredible determination, courage, and sacrifice of his fellow soldiers showed him a side of humanity he hadn’t seen since before the Black Iris order was given. The lengths they went to to protect and save each other were astounding, and their impossible ability to hold onto morale in the jaws of hell without even the assurance of superhuman resilience to cling to stuck with him long after the war was over. He knew redemption was possible. He just needed to find a way to effect it.

He abandoned combat altogether after the war ended, turning his focus to diplomacy. There was much work to be done internally before he could even think to turn his intentions to reconciliation with the humans, but to this day he works tirelessly toward his goal, deaf to the disapproval of his father and his peers and eyes focused firmly on the future.

Misc.

0355AD
Dmitri doesn’t make judgement on species; he sees value and potential in all of his subjects, whether they’ve realized it or not.

@Prosaic I am still wrestling with how to present his history but I promised I'd get this up tonight and dammit I intended to deliver

Obscene's Scratchpad

Dmitri Rochdale

Glass half empty, glass half full -/- Well either way, you won’t be going thirsty
Count your b l e s s i n g s not your flaws

Name

Dmitri Rochdale

Nicknames

Dima (friends and family, though he won’t balk if you call him that)

Age

As far as the years have dragged him, his goal still lies ahead (Appears in his thirties)

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Asexual

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Dmitri is fairly tall, a bit shorter than his younger brother Mikhail but makes up for it with a more solid, muscular build. He shares the same white hair, pale skin and ice-blue eyes as his siblings, but looks the part of eldest, appearing somewhere in his thirties. He usually wears something between a kind expression and a solemn thousand-yard stare, rarely outwardly emoting beyond a polite smile or disappointed glare. He keeps himself neat and tidy and wears clothes that are simple, but refined; he takes pride in his position, but doesn’t flaunt, usually avoiding jewelry and extravagant clothes unless necessary.

Personality Traits

First and foremost, Dmitri is a gentle soul. Calm and quiet, he takes more after the gentle touch of his mother than the iron fist of his father. Still, he has a commanding presence; though he speaks softly, people tend to listen. Subdued by the centuries of hardship, conflict, and suffering he witnessed his people subjected to, he can seem quiet, even a little somber at times. Still, with others around he does his best to portray the persona of a strong, reliable heir to his father’s throne.

His calm and mellow demeanour often clashes with his brother’s airy confidence and his sister’s intensity, and he often finds himself playing mediator, a skill that has served him well diplomatically in the past. While he questions his father’s methods and intentions, Dmitri remains loyal to his father and the Society, holding duty above all else.

Skills

• Serenity: Dmitri can keep calm in all manner of situations. Only a few times in his long life has temper or panic gotten the better of him, and he’s great in a crisis.
• Approachable: Despite his royal standing, Dmitri has a talent for putting people at ease, a useful skill for an heir trying to build rapport with those below him.
• Leadership: Dmitri is a born leader, people easily fall into step behind him and he holds the responsibility of leading sacrosanct.
• All the physical prowess of a born vampire
• Dmitri is trained in a number of combat styles, ranging from traditional swordsmanship and axe weilding to warfare tactics dating back to WWI, and has seen enough action to have prompted him to hang up his sword in favour of peaceful diplomacy.

Weaknesses

• Merciful: Perhaps not a weakness for most, but definitely considered as such by his father, Dmitri is prone to assuming the better in people and usually errs on the generous or merciful side when dealing with them.
• Trusting: Dmitri is quicker to trust than is wise for someone in his position, specifically of those he believes to be of good character. As an example, his sister would point to Dmitri’s oddly unwavering trust in his brother Mikhail; luckily, this faithful nature has yet to bite him too badly.
• Naive: Dmitri holds onto an optimistic, naive hope for peace, not just among the supernatural subjects of the Black Iris, but between them and the humans as well. Even through his hundreds of years and near-constant exposure to vicious, senseless conflict among all manner of people, he is still disappointed when it happens, and still thinks his vision of a world of species united could become a reality.

History

Dmitri clings more to his memory than his brother does, though lacking the uncanny retention of his sister, it still blurs in places. Some memories are crystal clear, like the day his father and the Council commanded all members of the Black Iris Society to retreat into the shadows or the night that he lost his first friend to the stake. Other times, his memory slips; the smoke and shouting of the night his home was raided by villagers with stakes and torches sometimes slides into the hellish cacophony of mortar fire pounding above as he fought in the trenches of World War I. Over the years he’s kept careful journals, and the pressing details of his life are well recorded.

He was the first child of King Astris Rochdale and his wife, a Russian vampiress whose heritage shone in the names of her children. Dmitri was born some time before the Society ordered its members into hiding, and as such he remembers a time when supernatural species did not hide their nature from their human neighbours. Or at least, not on Council command. But he saw firsthand the barbarism and scorn with which the humans persecuted his people, saw how his own kind and other supernatural species consumed, butchered and cursed them in return. He saw neighbourhood healers strung up as consorts of the Devil, saw entire villages wiped out by gluttonous werewolves, saw vampires steal children only to have themselves and their whole families strung up in the sun for their crimes. What tortured him, though, was that he also saw his people and the humans coexist; a coven of witches who warded their town from evil, a vampiric scholar who uplifted his village with knowledge, werewolf packs who hunted dangerous game for their fellow man when food was scarce, and all along he saw humans who would defend their mythical allies from those who would see them burn.

Dmitri was heartbroken when the order came to hide from humans, but he understood why it was given; though he had hope that his people could coexist peacefully with humans, it was a time when fear and distrust infected humans and the supernatural alike like a plague, poisoning any and all interaction and dooming it all to conflict. As the years wore on, though, he kept waiting for a time when the world could develop enough for a second chance at coexistence, only to find that history had a dastardly way of repeating itself.

With members of the Black Iris long faded into myth and superstition, those he saw as war-hungry humans did what they always did and turned on each other. Bloody battles raged with the supernatural safely in the shadows, though they were not impervious to infighting either. The years between conflicts blend together, but one he remembers well was the First World War, a conflict the scope of which neither he nor anyone had ever seen before, nor expected to see again. Unable to escape conscription without arousing suspicion, Dmitri ended up in the trenches, fighting alongside human soldiers. By then he had grown jaded, seeing humans as vicious warmongering beasts beyond salvation, and he expected the deadliest war in human history to only further confirm his suspicions. But, as he fought as well as he could without drawing attention to his superhuman abilities, the incredible determination, courage, and sacrifice of his fellow soldiers showed him a side of humanity he hadn’t seen since before the Black Iris order was given. The lengths they went to to protect and save each other were astounding, and their impossible ability to hold onto morale in the jaws of hell without even the assurance of superhuman resilience to cling to stuck with him long after the war was over. He knew redemption was possible. He just needed to find a way to effect it.

He abandoned combat altogether after the war ended, turning his focus to diplomacy. There was much work to be done internally before he could even think to turn his intentions to reconciliation with the humans, but to this day he works tirelessly toward his goal, deaf to the disapproval of his father and his peers and eyes focused firmly on the future.

Misc.

0355AD
Dmitri doesn’t make judgement on species; he sees value and potential in all of his subjects, whether they’ve realized it or not.

Black Iris Society

Mikhail Rochdale

H e r o e s a l w a y s g e t r e m e m b e r e d

B u t y o u k n o w l e g e n d s n e v e r d i e .

Name

Mikhail Rochdale

Nicknames

Misha (close friends and family only, seriously)

Age

After all this time, does it really matter? (Appears to be in his twenties)

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Whatever he needs to get you hooked, baby

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Mikhail is a tall man with a lithe build, not muscular but not skeletal either. Like his siblings, his features bear a striking resemblance to a frozen corpse: frosty pale skin with the slightest tint of deathly blue, unruly snow-white hair, and a set of piercing, ice-blue eyes. He looks great for his advanced age, the very picture of youth, and he can usually be seen with a cunning smirk on his lips and a dangerous glint in his eye. Royalty suits him well and he isn’t afraid to show it, wearing only the best and often adorned with rings and other finery.

Personality Traits

Extremely charismatic with a haunting talent for reading people, Mikhail's outward personality can be whatever he needs it to be to get what he wants. He can just as easily play the part of friend or lover as he can tormentor or authority figure, and this two-faced tendency of his has worked more in his favour than against it over the years. While his sister may not believe him, Mikhail is genuinely devoted to the King and the Black Iris Society at large, though his motivations, sincere or otherwise, are unclear.

Mikhail is the type of man who is either a joy to talk to, or absolutely infuriating. A trait that some admire and some despise, he has a way of talking that ensures that whoever he's talking to only knows as much as he wants them to know. There are those who love him, those who hate him, and those who fear him, though they all seem to agree that he has the sort of smile that doesn't quite reach his icy eyes.

Skills

• Extremely charismatic
• Formidable negotiator
• Good at getting things out of people (idk the word for that, sue me)
• Physical prowess that comes with vampirism
• Special talent for pissing off his sister

Weaknesses

• A poor fighter (as vampires go), but who needs to throw a punch when you have the full force of the Royal Guard at your disposal?
• His reputation as a talented manipulator precedes him and can (and often does) inspire doubt and suspicion, even when his intentions are sincere
• Struggles to get close to people; assumes the worst in everyone and sees them as pawns in a game rather than people, and as such is prone to paranoia and isolation
• Probably has several dozen people plotting his assassination as we speak

History

“History, legend, constructs of memory… after this long, who can tell which is which?”

The many, many years of Mikhail’s life have blended and blurred together, but it works out in his favour; he isn’t one to cling too closely to the past. Still, the basic details remain: he was born alongside his sister Irina long after his brother Dmitri, second in line for his father’s throne and perfectly content with that. His talent for manipulating people came out in his youth, one he spent getting into trouble only to weasel his way out of the consequences, much to his dutiful twin’s considerable chagrin. Not the leader his brother was and lacking the martial talent of his sister, Mikhail settled comfortably into the shadows, capitalizing on his unmatched skill with people and spinning a vast web that grew over the years to entangle just about everything in the Society's domain.

Centuries of making connections, allies and enemies alike have put Mikhail in the enviable position of ‘knowing a guy’ for just about everything, trading both in gold and favours, ever plucking the strings of the underworld and knowing just the ones to pull. Well on his brother’s good side, he’s set for a position of high influence should his father die or abdicate, and is well equipped to use every puppet at his disposal for the benefit of himself and the Society alike.

Misc.

91B5D5
Mikhail is judgemental in general, and prone to thinking less of 'lower' species, though he isn't so naive as to underestimate them.

As eternal life can grow dull even with one's ear to the proverbial ground, Mikhail peppered his life with bouts of travel, unconsciously following chaos around the world and as such, has borne witness to a number of important historical events. Even now he finds it fun to spice things up with the occasional personal undertaking of a Black Iris Guard mission, or even just shedding the title of prince for a while and seeing what he can find among the commoners. Of course, a bit of arrogance and an air of self-importance usually cuts those little excursions short.

He doesn't go hands-on often, but those in the know have heard that he often employs and even delights in cruelty, though whether this is purely for fun or to send a message to those who oppose him is up for speculation.

Oh, Natasha?

Natasha is the latest of Mikhail's little semi-centennial chaos projects, odd jobs here and there he dips his fingers into to keep life from getting too boring. Natasha began as a walk through a seedy part of town looking for a live meal no one would miss, a rare deviation from the neatly prepared blood Mikhail usually opted for. He'd gone out looking for some excitement, and as it turned out, it wasn't difficult to find; why, she'd practically been draped in front of him on purpose, a vulnerable young lady with her life clearly in shambles, taking her last laboured breaths as her heart struggled to keep beating. What a pathetic sight she was, swathed in filth, sprawled out against a wall in an alleyway like another piece of common trash. Normally, that's just how Mikhail would have regarded her, but not that night. That night, he saw an opportunity.

Draining her of her blood was simple enough, though Mikhail did lament a bit that she didn't have the faculties to struggle or even respond. The particularly strong hit of... whatever it was that she'd decided to overdose on that night did addle his brain, though; an externality he considers responsible for the girl's predicament as a half-blood rather than a regular Turned. Nonetheless, a sloppy job is still a job done, and the girl's life would be saved. Or, perhaps traded; traded for a new life, free from the trivial clutches of human concerns.

That's what he told her, anyway.

When she awoke, clean, unharmed and taken care of, Mikhail told her all about what had occurred; how he'd found her in that alley through pure luck and couldn't bear to see such a young, vibrant woman pass away in such undignified circumstances. He saw fit to give her a second chance, and a third when he protected her from extermination by the Black Thorn. He gave her a new life, and a new name to mark it: Natalia, "reborn". Suitably dignified, in his opinion. He never asked for her original name, anyway.

Ever since, she's proven herself quite the wise investment; Natasha worships the very ground he treads on, and Mikhail is not one to let such a blessing go to waste. He cares for and guides her as something almost akin to a pet, and in return she has given him unwavering, unquestioning loyalty. In Mikhail's opinion, she couldn't have turned out better, mind you that she still has much to learn. But there's plenty of time for that. He has her wound more tightly around his finger than most of his rings, and she knows well the debt of gratitude she owes him. Of course, he'd never let her forget.

---

Dmitri Rochdale

Glass half empty, glass half full -/- Well either way, you won’t be going thirsty
Count your b l e s s i n g s not your flaws

Name

Dmitri Rochdale

Nicknames

Dima (friends and family, though he won’t balk if you call him that)

Age

As far as the years have dragged him, his goal still lies ahead (Appears in his thirties)

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Asexual

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Dmitri is fairly tall, a bit shorter than his younger brother Mikhail but makes up for it with a more solid, muscular build. He shares the same white hair, pale skin and ice-blue eyes as his siblings, but looks the part of eldest, appearing somewhere in his thirties. He usually wears something between a kind expression and a solemn thousand-yard stare, rarely outwardly emoting beyond a polite smile or disappointed glare. He keeps himself neat and tidy and wears clothes that are simple, but refined; he takes pride in his position, but doesn’t flaunt, usually avoiding jewelry and extravagant clothes unless necessary.

Personality Traits

First and foremost, Dmitri is a gentle soul. Calm and quiet, he takes more after the gentle touch of his mother than the iron fist of his father. Still, he has a commanding presence; though he speaks softly, people tend to listen. Subdued by the centuries of hardship, conflict, and suffering he witnessed his people subjected to, he can seem quiet, even a little somber at times. Still, with others around he does his best to portray the persona of a strong, reliable heir to his father’s throne.

His calm and mellow demeanour often clashes with his brother’s airy confidence and his sister’s intensity, and he often finds himself playing mediator, a skill that has served him well diplomatically in the past. While he questions his father’s methods and intentions, Dmitri remains loyal to his father and the Society, holding duty above all else.

Skills

• Serenity: Dmitri can keep calm in all manner of situations. Only a few times in his long life has temper or panic gotten the better of him, and he’s great in a crisis.
• Approachable: Despite his royal standing, Dmitri has a talent for putting people at ease, a useful skill for an heir trying to build rapport with those below him.
• Leadership: Dmitri is a born leader, people easily fall into step behind him and he holds the responsibility of leading sacrosanct.
• All the physical prowess of a born vampire
• Dmitri is trained in a number of combat styles, ranging from traditional swordsmanship and axe weilding to warfare tactics dating back to WWI, and has seen enough action to have prompted him to hang up his sword in favour of peaceful diplomacy.

Weaknesses

• Merciful: Perhaps not a weakness for most, but definitely considered as such by his father, Dmitri is prone to assuming the better in people and usually errs on the generous or merciful side when dealing with them.
• Trusting: Dmitri is quicker to trust than is wise for someone in his position, specifically of those he believes to be of good character. As an example, his sister would point to Dmitri’s oddly unwavering trust in his brother Mikhail; luckily, this faithful nature has yet to bite him too badly.
• Naive: Dmitri holds onto an optimistic, naive hope for peace, not just among the supernatural subjects of the Black Iris, but between them and the humans as well. Even through his hundreds of years and near-constant exposure to vicious, senseless conflict among all manner of people, he is still disappointed when it happens, and still thinks his vision of a world of species united could become a reality.

History

Dmitri clings more to his memory than his brother does, though lacking the uncanny retention of his sister, it still blurs in places. Some memories are crystal clear, like the day his father and the Council commanded all members of the Black Iris Society to retreat into the shadows or the night that he lost his first friend to the stake. Other times, his memory slips; the smoke and shouting of the night his home was raided by villagers with stakes and torches sometimes slides into the hellish cacophony of mortar fire pounding above as he fought in the trenches of World War I. Over the years he’s kept careful journals, and the pressing details of his life are well recorded.

He was the first child of King Astris Rochdale and his wife, a Russian vampiress whose heritage shone in the names of her children. Dmitri was born some time before the Society ordered its members into hiding, and as such he remembers a time when supernatural species did not hide their nature from their human neighbours. Or at least, not on Council command. But he saw firsthand the barbarism and scorn with which the humans persecuted his people, saw how his own kind and other supernatural species consumed, butchered and cursed them in return. He saw neighbourhood healers strung up as consorts of the Devil, saw entire villages wiped out by gluttonous werewolves, saw vampires steal children only to have themselves and their whole families strung up in the sun for their crimes. What tortured him, though, was that he also saw his people and the humans coexist; a coven of witches who warded their town from evil, a vampiric scholar who uplifted his village with knowledge, werewolf packs who hunted dangerous game for their fellow man when food was scarce, and all along he saw humans who would defend their mythical allies from those who would see them burn.

Dmitri was heartbroken when the order came to hide from humans, but he understood why it was given; though he had hope that his people could coexist peacefully with humans, it was a time when fear and distrust infected humans and the supernatural alike like a plague, poisoning any and all interaction and dooming it all to conflict. As the years wore on, though, he kept waiting for a time when the world could develop enough for a second chance at coexistence, only to find that history had a dastardly way of repeating itself.

With members of the Black Iris long faded into myth and superstition, those he saw as war-hungry humans did what they always did and turned on each other. Bloody battles raged with the supernatural safely in the shadows, though they were not impervious to infighting either. The years between conflicts blend together, but one he remembers well was the First World War, a conflict the scope of which neither he nor anyone had ever seen before, nor expected to see again. Unable to escape conscription without arousing suspicion, Dmitri ended up in the trenches, fighting alongside human soldiers. By then he had grown jaded, seeing humans as vicious warmongering beasts beyond salvation, and he expected the deadliest war in human history to only further confirm his suspicions. But, as he fought as well as he could without drawing attention to his superhuman abilities, the incredible determination, courage, and sacrifice of his fellow soldiers showed him a side of humanity he hadn’t seen since before the Black Iris order was given. The lengths they went to to protect and save each other were astounding, and their impossible ability to hold onto morale in the jaws of hell without even the assurance of superhuman resilience to cling to stuck with him long after the war was over. He knew redemption was possible. He just needed to find a way to effect it.

He abandoned combat altogether after the war ended, turning his focus to diplomacy. There was much work to be done internally before he could even think to turn his intentions to reconciliation with the humans, but to this day he works tirelessly toward his goal, deaf to the disapproval of his father and his peers and eyes focused firmly on the future.

Misc.

0355AD
Dmitri doesn’t make judgement on species; he sees value and potential in all of his subjects, whether they’ve realized it or not.

Irina Rochdale

You can run on for a long time -/- Run on for a long time...

Name

Irina Rochdale

Nickames

“That’s Commander to you.”
Ira (friends and family); Zima (by Mikhail cause he’s a dick); the King’s Rose; Commander

Age

348 (Appears in her late twenties)

Gender

Female

Sexuality

She really doesn’t have time to spend figuring out something so unimportant

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Irina is tall for a woman at 5’7” with a lithe figure possessing more strength than meets the eye. Usually stone-faced or scowling, she shares the same hair, skin and eye colour as her brothers, with the exception that she can often be seen with her eyes coloured gold with bloodlust. She is the very embodiment of “serious”, standing rigidly straight and moving with purpose. She cuts a surprisingly imposing figure in her Black Thorn Commander’s uniform, ironically coloured white to identify her as commander rather than a regular officer. She hasn’t worn a skirt since 1700 and doesn’t intend to, wearing only clothes she could fight in and preferring the sharp cut of her uniform. She does, however, have a soft spot for dark lipstick and eyeliner.

Personality Traits

In a word, Irina is intense, and the first thing many people notice about her is a piercing, judgemental gaze that seems to go right through you. That is accurate to her personality as well: she sizes up everyone she sees, gauging their strengths and weaknesses. Rigid, blunt, cold, and ruthless, she fulfills the stereotype of a military commander to a T. She speaks quickly and concisely and only wants to hear you talk long enough to get the information she needs, having no patience for pretty words or idle chatter. Mercy isn’t a word in her vocabulary and she takes her duty deadly seriously, and God help anyone who stands in her way.

Skills

• Excellent memory.
• Martial Expert: Irina has been training tirelessly ever since she could hold a weapon in every combat form she could find, and is adept with pretty much anything that can be used to inflict harm, both modern and archaic. Her personal preference, however, is fencing.
• Bloodlust: Centuries of discipline have allowed Irina to trigger her bloodlust on command, and control herself under its effect in order to use the enhanced physical prowess it provides to her advantage in combat. To facilitate this, she consumes as little blood as she can stand, fasting so that she is always just on the edge of bloodlust. She triggers it by biting her tongue.
• Strategist: Self explanatory; Irina is a talented strategist and tactician when it comes to combat missions.
• Rider: Irina is a skilled equestrian, able to wield various weapons while mounted. Now that horseback riding has become largely obsolete, she’s also become a skilled driver of various vehicles, both on- and off-road.
• All the physical prowess that comes with being a born vampire

Weaknesses

• Tactless: Irina never could wrap her head around the art of conversation, and thus has stopped trying. She’s blunt to the point of rudeness and would be a huge liability in negotiation.
• Restless: Irina gets itchy when she’s in one place for too long, and has a tendency to work herself too hard, outright resenting rest.
• Paranoid: Irina never feels comfortable without her back against the wall, and is always on the lookout for threats even when none should be present.
• Temper: Irina’s temper is quick and hot, and God help anyone in its path. Unfortunately, this can make her vulnerable to goading.
• Especially vulnerable to her twin’s bullshit; he knows where all her buttons are and precisely how to push them.

History

Born alongside her twin Mikhail a few decades prior to the King’s command, Irina doesn’t remember much about the days before the Black Iris segregated itself from humans. With Dmitri centuries older than her and occupied in his duties as heir, and Mikhail entirely insufferable, Irina looked to her militant father for companionship. With his guidance, she turned her temper into something constructive, and put her determined, discipline-hungry mind to good use by learning combat. From the moment she picked up a bow as a child, she fell in love with the art of battle, learning to wield any weapon she could get her hands on and finding a particular friend in the rapier.

As she grew older, her potential grew clearer and clearer to her father, and soon he allowed her to join the Society’s armed force, the Black Thorn. Her capability was quickly proven and her skill shone among her peers, and she rose through the ranks quickly, eventually taking her place at her father’s side as Commander of the Thorn. As Commander, she controls the Thorn and directly commands its most elite forces. While the bulk of the Thorn investigates and tries law-breakers within the Black Iris, Irina and her highest officers take on the most dangerous threats, be they powerful Black Iris members or human Hunters getting a little too close.

Misc.

00AFEC
As part of her uniform, Irina at all times wears a rapier on her left hip. The handle and guard are decorated with white enamel and a few rubies, and its name is Ukus Zimy, “Winter’s Bite.”

Black Iris Society

@Prosaic This is very much subject to change, but here is the middle of my 3 royal children!

Mikhail Rochdale

H e r o e s a l w a y s g e t r e m e m b e r e d

B u t y o u k n o w l e g e n d s n e v e r d i e .

Name

Mikhail Rochdale

Nicknames

Misha (close friends and family only, seriously)

Age

After all this time, does it really matter? (Appears to be in his twenties)

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Mikhail is a tall man with a lithe build, not muscular but not skeletal either. Like his siblings, his features bear a striking resemblance to a frozen corpse: frosty pale skin with the slightest tint of deathly blue, unruly snow-white hair, and a set of piercing, ice-blue eyes. He looks great for his advanced age, the very picture of youth, and he can usually be seen with a cunning smirk on his lips and a dangerous glint in his eye. Royalty suits him well and he isn’t afraid to show it, wearing only the best and often adorned with rings and other finery.

Personality Traits

Extremely charismatic with a haunting talent for reading people, Mikhail's outward personality can be whatever he needs it to be to get what he wants. He can just as easily play the part of friend or lover as he can tormentor or authority figure, and this two-faced tendency of his has worked more in his favour than against it over the years. While his sister may not believe him, Mikhail is genuinely devoted to the King and the Black Iris Society at large, though his motivations, sincere or otherwise, are unclear.

Mikhail is the type of man who is either a joy to talk to, or absolutely infuriating. A trait that some admire and some despise, he has a way of talking that ensures that whoever he's talking to only knows as much as he wants them to know. There are those who love him, those who hate him, and those who fear him, though they all seem to agree that he has the sort of smile that doesn't quite reach his icy eyes.

Skills

• Extremely charismatic
• Formidable negotiator
• Good at getting things out of people (idk the word for that, sue me)
• Physical prowess that comes with vampirism
• Special talent for pissing off his sister

Weaknesses

• A poor fighter (as vampires go), but who needs to throw a punch when you have the full force of the Royal Guard at your disposal?
• His reputation as a talented manipulator precedes him and can (and often does) inspire doubt and suspicion, even when his intentions are sincere
• Struggles to get close to people; assumes the worst in everyone and sees them as pawns in a game rather than people, and as such is prone to paranoia and isolation
• Probably has several dozen people plotting his assassination as we speak

History

“History, legend, constructs of memory… after this long, who can tell which is which?”

The many, many years of Mikhail’s life have blended and blurred together, but it works out in his favour; he isn’t one to cling too closely to the past. Still, the basic details remain: he was born alongside his sister Irina about a century after his brother Dmitri, second in line for his father’s throne and perfectly content with that. His talent for manipulating people came out in his youth, one he spent getting into trouble only to weasel his way out of the consequences, much to his dutiful twin’s considerable chagrin. Not the leader his brother was and lacking the martial talent of his sister, Mikhail settled comfortably into the shadows, capitalizing on his unmatched skill with people and spinning a vast web that grew over the years to entangle just about everything in the Society's domain.

Centuries of making connections, allies and enemies alike have put Mikhail in the enviable position of ‘knowing a guy’ for just about everything, trading both in gold and favours, ever plucking the strings of the underworld and knowing just the ones to pull. Well on his brother’s good side, he’s set for a position of high influence should his father die or abdicate, and is well equipped to use every puppet at his disposal for the benefit of himself and the Society alike.

Misc.

Colour Code: 91B5D5
(more to be added later)

Obscene's Scratchpad

Mikhail Rochdale

H e r o e s a l w a y s g e t r e m e m b e r e d

B u t y o u k n o w l e g e n d s n e v e r d i e .

Name

Mikhail Rochdale

Nicknames

Misha (close friends and family only, seriously)

Age

After all this time, does it really matter? (Appears to be in his twenties)

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Heterosexual

Relationship Status

Single

Species

Born Vampire

Appearance Details

Mikhail is a tall man with a lithe build, not muscular but not skeletal either. Like his siblings, his features bear a striking resemblance to a frozen corpse: frosty pale skin with the slightest tint of deathly blue, unruly snow-white hair, and a set of piercing, ice-blue eyes. He looks great for his advanced age, the very picture of youth, and he can usually be seen with a cunning smirk on his lips and a dangerous glint in his eye. Royalty suits him well and he isn’t afraid to show it, wearing only the best and often adorned with rings and other finery.

Personality Traits

Extremely charismatic with a haunting talent for reading people, Mikhail's outward personality can be whatever he needs it to be to get what he wants. He can just as easily play the part of friend or lover as he can tormentor or authority figure, and this two-faced tendency of his has worked more in his favour than against it over the years. While his sister may not believe him, Mikhail is genuinely devoted to the King and the Black Iris Society at large, though his motivations, sincere or otherwise, are unclear.

Mikhail is the type of man who is either a joy to talk to, or absolutely infuriating. A trait that some admire and some despise, he has a way of talking that ensures that whoever he's talking to only knows as much as he wants them to know. There are those who love him, those who hate him, and those who fear him, though they all seem to agree that he has the sort of smile that doesn't quite reach his icy eyes.

Skills

• Extremely charismatic
• Formidable negotiator
• Good at getting things out of people (idk the word for that, sue me)
• Physical prowess that comes with vampirism
• Special talent for pissing off his sister

Weaknesses

• A poor fighter (as vampires go), but who needs to throw a punch when you have the full force of the Royal Guard at your disposal?
• His reputation as a talented manipulator precedes him and can (and often does) inspire doubt and suspicion, even when his intentions are sincere
• Struggles to get close to people; assumes the worst in everyone and sees them as pawns in a game rather than people, and as such is prone to paranoia and isolation
• Probably has several dozen people plotting his assassination as we speak

History

“History, legend, constructs of memory… after this long, who can tell which is which?”

The many, many years of Mikhail’s life have blended and blurred together, but it works out in his favour; he isn’t one to cling too closely to the past. Still, the basic details remain: he was born alongside his sister Irina about a century after his brother Dmitri, second in line for his father’s throne and perfectly content with that. His talent for manipulating people came out in his youth, one he spent getting into trouble only to weasel his way out of the consequences, much to his dutiful twin’s considerable chagrin. Not the leader his brother was and lacking the martial talent of his sister, Mikhail settled comfortably into the shadows, capitalizing on his unmatched skill with people and spinning a vast web that grew over the years to entangle just about everything in the Society's domain.

Centuries of making connections, allies and enemies alike have put Mikhail in the enviable position of ‘knowing a guy’ for just about everything, trading both in gold and favours, ever plucking the strings of the underworld and knowing just the ones to pull. Well on his brother’s good side, he’s set for a position of high influence should his father die or abdicate, and is well equipped to use every puppet at his disposal for the benefit of himself and the Society alike.

Misc.

Colour Code: 91B5D5
(more to be added later)

Obscene's Scratchpad

1001fonts.com/dioszeghiensis-rg-font.… <- Mikhail

Black Iris Society

Why must you tempt me in this way Prose

Of Blood and Magic

_________________________________________________________________________

Hm, this woman wasn’t pulling any punches, was she? Aaron was quite familiar with personal jabs - the last few weeks with Varis and Max floating around guaranteed that - but he was more used to the aristocratic tradition of thinly veiling one’s insults in public rather than laying them out for all the world to see.

Still cordial as ever, Aaron had just opened his mouth to respond when his partner sniffed at the air rather brazenly, attention locked somewhere at the edge of the ballroom. With little more than some rude parting words she slid out of his grip, disappearing into the crowd and leaving Aaron alone. A small, strangled noise of protest died in Aaron’s throat as he watched her go, glaring at the spot where she disappeared before opting to clear off the dance floor with a single indignant tug on his lapel. Maybe she wasn’t as highborn as he thought; she had the verbiage down, but clearly not the class. He was a mage, sure, but stranding one’s dance partner like that still made her look bad.

Choosing not to dwell on it, Aaron went back to watching the dancers, sticking to the wall and glancing from pair to pair until a streak of white caught his eye at the edge of the dance floor, some distance away. White and gold, actually; long white hair tumbling in waves down the back of a golden yellow chiffon dress with an exquisite train, though it didn’t take long after seeing a pair of big blue eyes peeking out of a golden mask for Aaron to realize who it was.

Rude vampiresses forgotten, an excited smile immediately formed on Aaron’s face at the sight of her. He hadn’t expected Lilie to be here! He had considered catching up to her sometime during the festivities, but when he’d asked she hadn’t known what she’d be doing, and he didn’t want to freak her out by chasing her around campus. But it really seemed like the stars were aligning to give him a lucky break, bringing Lilie to a ball in a gorgeous gold gown, where it would be appropriate to ask her to dance.

With a burst of courage he hadn’t felt since arriving at the Academy, Aaron schooled his expression (or at least, what part of it was visible under his raven mask) into something more polite than exuberance, instead painting on the same little smile he’d been wearing moments before. He strode over to her with his head held high, but slowed a bit as he approached her, clasping his hands behind his back as he came to a halt directly behind her. He was a little amused at the fact that he was nearly a head taller than her, though the plume of gold feathers protruding from the top of her mask made up the difference. She was talking to some people, but for once he wasn’t scared to interrupt.

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting you here tonight,” he told her, heart fluttering in his chest as he tried his best to be smooth.

The group Lilie had found herself with was a pleasant one, and she found herself listening along to a story about something that had happened in a previous class. It was a funny story, but she wondered if she could really spend the entire night listening to stories from people without having anything to contribute. She felt like she should have taken up Salem's offer, at least with friends she would've had more fun. Well, at the very least she could say she did give it an earnest try, and if she was honest, it wasn’t all bad!

A familiar voice caused Lilie to turn around, though she nearly jumped in place. Instead of the kind Aaron she was used to seeing, instead a fair haired gentleman in a raven’s mask was in his place. Her first thought was that a bird man had come to prey on her, somewhat alarming her. As soon as she saw those cerulean colored eyes of his, however, she relaxed immensely, giggling at her own silliness.

“Aaron!” She was probably a little too excited to see him, but seeing a familiar face was always a pleasant surprise. Taking a few seconds to look at his outfit, she had to admit she was impressed. His suit was gorgeous, the blue looking fantastic on him. The feathered mask wasn’t as scary as she initially thought, and she mentally chided herself for getting spooked.

She excused herself from the group, giving him her full attention. “You look great!” She told him happily, clasping her hands together in front of her. Of course, she realized why he was surprised, and she immediately shook her head. “I know, I'm sorry, I just heard that you'd be here, too,” She apologized, not wanting him to think she had been trying to avoid him. “I didn't think I'd be here, either. But here we are!”

That same excited smile came right back when Lilie greeted him happily; it was a smile that seemed to only come about for her. Aaron wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, though. She had just made his night.

“Thank you,” he replied to her compliment before gesturing to her. “But you look absolutely stunning,” he assured her, only now noticing that her mask had a golden peacock motif. He pointed between their two masks, remarking, “Hey, we’re both birds!”

He chuckled a bit at the statement, but moved on quickly, deciding that was probably lame. Spotting a live flower rooted into Lilie’s dress, he pointed it out. “I see Salem got to you too,” he remarked, grinning.

Aaron's compliment got Lilie to smile again; what a charmer! At the mention of their shared bird motif, her hand went up to her mask as she realized he was right. Of course, she wasn't going to mention that she thought he was initially a giant raven bird man coming to steal her soul, but fortunately he would move on from that topic. Lilie looked down to where Aaron gestured, looking back at him with a nod. "Isn't it pretty? He offered me another one, but I felt like just the one was good enough, I didn't want people getting the wrong idea," She said, deciding to run off on Aaron's observation.

“The wrong idea?” Aaron asked, “What do you mean?”

She pointed to the flower and then at herself. "Because it's a lily! And I'm a Lilie!" She beamed at her own joke. "Well, Lily with an I and an E, but still. Cause walking around with a bunch of lilies…you know?"

“Ah! I see,” Aaron laughed politely, less and the joke and more at how pleased with herself Lilie looked when she told it. It was absolutely adorable, and it warmed his heart to see her so happy.

Delighted that Aaron appreciated her joke, Lilie gave him a bright smile, examining his mask. When her eyes wandered down to the unexposed part of his face, she suddenly remembered what Cassandra told her. She looked around, making sure neither she nor Salem were close before leaning in towards Aaron. "So I heard that you and Salem--that you two, uh," She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Kissed.”

Aaron had to lean down so he could hear Lilie’s whisper over the din, but he straightened as she finished, brow furrowed under his mask. It took a moment for him to connect the dots.

“Oh!” He exclaimed when it clicked, tossing his head back in laughter. “Yeah, he really wanted to dance, and kissed me on the cheek when we were done.” He pulled out his phone, chuckling as he found the picture he and Salem has taken on orientation night, and turned it around for Lilie to see. “He did it on orientation night too, I think it’s just something he does.”

Taking the phone from Aaron to get a better look, Lilie was surprised that it was just for a picture. It looked like a friendly kiss on the cheek, not at all as intimate as she had assumed. As she handed the phone back to Aaron, her free hand touched her lips. The kiss Salem gave her was definitely a little more risque, but now she was wondering if maybe she misinterpreted it.

"He kissed me, too, so I assumed it was the same," Lilie admitted. "Although his wasn't on my cheek, it was here," She pointed to the corner of her lip.

Aaron’s first thought was of how inappropriate a kiss like that would be; Salem’s little cheek kisses were odd enough as it was - he struck Aaron like a quirky old vampire rather than a mage whenever he did that - but the spot Lilie indicated seemed… invasive, to say the very least. His face fell a touch at the information, unnoticeable under the mask, as a strange flash of anger struck him. Or, that wasn’t quite right. He was more annoyed than he felt like he should be, seeing as Lilie didn’t seem any worse for wear, so maybe he was just overly concerned for her comfort. Or…

Was he jealous?

“Well, I have it on good authority that Salem’s been drinking,” he replied smoothly, flashing Lilie a cavalier smile. “He probably just missed.” Aaron inwardly chided himself for his foolishness. Of all people in the world to be jealous about, Salem was not one.

“And while I have you here,” he added, glancing back to the dance floor as the music ended and the couples broke apart and paired up again. He turned back to Lilie and held out a white-gloved hand, the other neatly behind his back, the very picture of regal elegance and propriety. “May I have this dance?”

Obscene's Scratchpad

^^^ Byron, 50