Change is sweeping through the world, as humanity fights for autonomy, discord tears apart the foundations of the vampire order, and dhampirs return to the world after centuries of war between two powerful peoples. Dhampirs, creatures known to heral...
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No one in the council liked each other. That's what happened when you tried to throw together a dozen powerful men from different cultures, walks of life, and harboring contrary ideals. The vampire council had been formed on the cusp of the world's end, when the living plane had almost tumbled into the void–their purpose, to keep that from ever happening again.
To keep dhampirs out of the living world.
How they went about that, was drastically different per man.
"We need to separate the children from the parents and educate them on their powers. The parentage will coddle them too much and hinder the process. If they are taught young, we can avoid the catastrophe of have a century ago." Fiorello de Fleur said at the far end of the table. That pissant regularly dyed his long, wavy hair bright blue like the ocean waters, claiming the shade ran well with his white cloak. They matched, him and his heir, Lorenzo, though the later had chosen the color of the sky. Thank the heavens only one of them was here.
Both looked ridiculous.
"And if the parents get in the way?" Dev Zehir asked, shifting his black cloak off his face to reveal not much more of himself. Under the hood he was shadow, and without, more of the same. Dev's ebony skin was near as dark as his ruffled pitch hair, and he'd chosen the seat furthest from everyone.
The Zehirs were fighters, all of them, brutal in combat and uncaring of even their own who fell. As such, the man kept his hair cut close to his scalp so it didn't interfere in the fighting. It was a far cry from the Fleurs who used what was in their skulls significantly more than the rabid beasts the Zehir's were.
The only ones who were worse were the Sols.
Rivin Sol wasn't here. Rivin was never here. The man had left his house behind and had refused to join the council, but he was the oldest among them. Someone had lightly suggested Rivin join once. The man had been lucky to keep the other half of his face. Rivin's progeny Talamayas Sol was the most brutal house head to ever grace the sands, with a passion for burning people alive and hearing their screams.
Nicholas couldn't really speak of progenies though, not when he'd left Vincent in charge. That man had not taken the change well when his wife had perished in the process. It had wrought anger and cruelty through him, but Nicholas had been the last vampire from old times who had withheld from joining the council. And Ares had refused to rule. Something about naming a man a general seemed to lock them into that position of servitude over power. Shan Sol had likewise refused to rule when Rivin left.
The vampire world was full of spoiled shits who didn't understand just how much worse it could get. Not that knowing changed them for the better. Here the council was trying to repeat the mistakes of the past.
"I would think the parents could be shown reason," Fior said like a true soulless moron. The Fleurs valued their own, but they would sacrifice in order for the majority to survive.
