Izmir Lefeuvre- The Witch
"I'll never forget that day. Men whom I loved and called brother gathered on the steps of the very senate I helped build, to end my life. It was after that entire fiasco, that I decided to stop trying to be a ruler. It was my last vain attempt to lend my wisdom to undeserving heathens. I'd tried it in at least three previous lives with varying degrees of success, but it always ended with the same abject failure." Gaius paused staring ahead blankly. His features obnubilated by memories of a tortured past.
"Taking the piss again? Each of those monarchies ended in disaster because you were a bloody tyrant." The creature accused with a scoff, then folded his thickly corded arms over his chest.
"Piss off Ed! You're one to talk! At least I didn't go feral shredding sex-workers in East London. Nearly brought the entire bleeding Counsel of the Night Sect down on us." Gaius shot back.
The Night Sect? I had so many questions that would probably go unanswered. A frown creased my brow as I considered what I'd just learned. Suddenly I felt the weight of the Strigoi's heavy gaze on me.
Assessing from the periphery, I could see him watching hesitantly for my reaction. My frown deepened. Why did he care about my opinion? He already threatened to eat me once.
That little piece of information didn't add even an ounce to the fear I dragged around during this little adventure. I already knew he was dangerous. So, the notion that he was Jack the Ripper didn't surprise me in the least. Still, Gaius' dig came off as a little petty.
"That wasn't my fault, and you know that to be true! " The Strigoi growled. "Self-centered gannet! Brutus let you off far too easy."
"Brutus." There was a pause in Gaius' voice. "To think...I practically raised him. The ungrateful wanker! His treachery still causes an ache in my chest to this day." Gaius' modern American accent did something similar to the Strigoi's. It floated to British maybe even Scottish but finished with a heavy Italian timbre. The weight of his pain forced his head to hang, as he rested forward with his elbows on his knees. True and deep emotion revealed parts of ancients even if it was just for a moment.
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The Dragon's Bane
FantasyÉvrard D'Aboville has been the lethal left hand of King Sabien Arceneaux for centuries. Using his deadly skills, he's indiscriminately killed and maimed at his master's behest. He had never once been disobedient. That is until he was asked to kill a...