Escher Von Preshlow

Ireena Kolyana

Whilst not every party that entered Barovia was especially easy for Escher to get along with... and some were even absolutely detestable, but each time a new one entered Barovia, it meant that Strahd was distracted.

And if Strahd was distracted, it meant that finally, Escher may have a little peace and quiet.

Anastrasya would not dare lay a hand on him without express permission from Strahd, and he had no responsibilities for Ludmilla to trouble him over, and Volenta... usually just kept to herself.

On these occasions then, Escher would steal a small stack of books from Strahd's library, and retreat to his tower for some time alone. On the rare occasions he was able to find any supplies, Escher would paint, though his subjects were often limited to the same old view from his tower window and self-portraits based entirely on memory. But got rather dismal after a while, so now he was back to reading.

It was while carefully making his selection then, when he heard a rather awful racket coming from the teleportation room downstairs. He shut his eyes and leaned his head heavily on the shelf before him, closing his eyes in frustration. The peace may be short lived today it seemed.

He heard the chaos travel up the staircase towards him, the sounds muffled by the huge wooden doors that separated him from the impending commotion. But was that- a woman's voice? Shouting? He'd barely had the time to speculate before the doors burst open, in walking his husband's favorite form, Vasili Von Holtz, holding at arm's length, the wrist of a woman with fiery auburn hair, as she struggled against his grip like a cat aiming to scratch it's attackers eyes out.

Escher immediately stood up straight, recapturing the same manner of dishonest superiority and grandeur as everyone else in the castle. He watched Strahd nimbly confiscate her rapier and then with a strong shove, knocked the small woman off balance and flung her towards the equally surprised blond. He caught the woman, wrapping one of his athletic arms around her to hold her still. She grabbed his arm and wriggled in his grasp to attempt to bite down on it.

"You're being positively feral, Ireena, please calm down. This is hardly becoming of a woman of noble standing" Strahd said, his visage fading out of Vasili's and into his own, usual self. He bent down to Ireena's level to address her eye-to-eye. He wasn't having any of it, still trying to wrestle the much larger man.

Escher looked down upon her too, in pity. What had this woman done to cause Strahd to drag her in like this? He... could make an educated guess based entirely on the colour of her hair but, whatever it was, she didn't deserve this. Though he maintained a steady grip, if only to satisfy the vampire looming above them both.

"You killed him-!" The woman wept, still struggling. Escher lowered his brow, realizing that was what that scent was on the both of them. He looked once more at his husband, no longer disguised by illusion to see his right hand absolutely soaked with blood, his fingernails like an eagle's talons.

Strahd did not open his mouth to justify himself. Of course, he never felt that was necessary.

"He was a child!" The woman continued to scream, and dug her own fingers into Escher's skin. She was beginning to hurt him, a little, so he repositioned himself, swinging the woman a bit wildly as he switched arms. She fell silent.

For a moment, Escher was afraid he'd hurt her.

But the woman instead stared up at the portrait above the mantelpiece. At the woman in the painting who stared back at her. Tatiyana, Escher knew and had heard about it many times. It finally dawned on him who this woman was, this Ireena.

The bard twisted his arm around to spin Ireena to face him, and once more he grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her still. The moment she had one of her hands free, she slapped him.

"Ow." He said.

Her face... yes. It was definitely her. He looked at Strahd again, who appeared extremely proud of himself, as he licked the blood from his hand, like a cat pruning itself.

Not again. Escher thought. Not another one.

This was the second Tatiana incarnation he'd been introduced to. And he would not fail this one as he did the last.