Repent: Gwyllomay of the Darkness (1.5) (MANUSCRIPT)

Chapter 16, Memories & Initiative (re1)

   HNNNG!
    Q- Quilke? The one and only, as it would seem, from the way it escaped Elizara's pale, thin lips. Her apple-orchard gaze didn't hold the same kind of brevity, however, which had struck me just then.
     I was impressed by her apparent ignorance of the topic- Of the man whose name she just simply spat out like that. Like it was just any other vampyre from Polidoria!  
     I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. Falling back into a land of visions and images, I kept my lips tight. The world around me... no longer stood to be the living-room of Grace's house. All of that familiar scene had vanished now. 

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     In front of me stood only a barely illuminated hallway.
     Torches. Flares. Long corners, chasms of darkness, and stone. The scent of underground concrete. The scent of alcohol and blood.
     "Would the royal houses all please come right this way? Bathory, Roselein, Getchuglz, Maranopskivich, and Dellnisse?" 
    "What about House Weldspar?" 
    Two disembodied voices chattered about, their shadows enhanced over fiery concrete. 

    Yes. This fun little memory I had begun to relive was that day. That... fateful day when I saw him for the first time. His calm eyes melded in with his fragrance of low blood-pressure and leather. Mhmhmhm! 
    "House Weldspar? That's not a royal house. Perhaps 'semi-royal', at least. You know, most of the Gulnaya Dhuere are, too. Ah, well. We have to get a move-on. It's the annual Day of Rite. Lord Polidori blesses this kingdom with-" 
    "Gentleman, gentleman. What's all the fuss about?" A third voice, collected with rustic confidence and smooth apprehension, entered the scene. 
     The man who finally completed a trio among the vampyres, raised his eyebrows so high they left five creases upon his forehead.
     His face appeared adorned with a dark stubble. Brown coat, too- The most heirloom-esque shade of puce I'd ever seen before in all of my years. He snapped his fingers rhythmically in his left hand. 
     In his right hand, a black cane touched down to the floor. 
     "It's a rhetorical question, gentleman! Rhetorical, of course. Yes. You see, the Lord shall be fine if we take our time. One does not control water, perhaps, to try and calm the waves, by running a hot iron through it." The man spoke in a typical Posh accent, and his carmine eyes stared at the two other vampyres. 
     "Hey, aren't you... Quilke Weldspar?" 
     "Ah, I've heard about you. My... condolences for your wife." 
     The two men, their faces blurry in my memory, spoke in tightened tones. 
     The man named Quilke shook his head. "My dear lovely Caralein is doing fine. I'm not certain as to what you speak of." 
     "B- But, the fire that took out-" 
     "She survived and is doing much better than ever before!" Quilke laughed, his stubbled face pale with freckles, and a love-mole by his bottom lip. 

      At the time, he seemed so innocent and pure. His currant glance was just like the rest of ours. The way he walked, demonstrated a peaceful sense of reassurance, as music followed him wherever he went. He was a solid man, of such fashions as alcohol, smoking, and what the humans had christened to be 'smooth jazz'. 
     The birds would sing, and all the animals of the area would calm themselves for him.
     He struck us differently than the other vampyres. He had demonstrated this funny, little idea as he walked about, cane and top-hat with him. The idea went, that perhaps... vampyres and humans could co-exist. Hmph. A very interesting concept back then, that had led many to be resistant to it.
     Quilke. That friendly name once brought such relaxation to people, their minds envisioning a quaint older man with bags under his eyes, and a face which possessed a slight sag to it.
     But little did any of us really know at the time...
     ... that Quilke had lost himself to the coercive allure of Human Resurrection.

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     The living-room returned to me once more. Grace's stale position, the windows shining light in, and the fireplace humming. Putting two fingers to my forehead, I yawned. My gaze, bemused, landed on the top of Elizara's petite cranium. 

    "Hm." I smirked as I took in her cute appearance. "That Quilke is a real Frankenstein, I'll have you know!" 
    "Pardon? My memories of this reference are failing me as of this moment, lord." Elizara's eyes looked, almost puppy-like, at me. 
    "Hm. A story about a physician who wished to bring back the dead. This doctor wished for this because he had lost someone who meant so much to him. Perhaps a lover. Perhaps a family member. Perhaps... a wife." 
    "Oh." Elizara swallowed. 
    "Well." 
    "Right." 
    "Mhm. Stories." 
    "So-" 
    "So, we're going to need to find this guy. Quilke Weldspar." I shrugged my shoulders and drew in air. 
    "R- Right. Um. When, Lord?" 
   "That's a tough answer. I have no absolute authority anymore in Polidoria." 
   "And neither do I. The Gulnaya did just turn on me, and as of traveling back to the kingdom since last night, I'm a laughing-stock from it." 
   "Nonsense, Elizara! You are a gorgeous laughing-stock." I put a reassuring arm on her shoulder, just inches above her supple breast which sat delicately behind those oppressive clothes of hers.
    Elizara's eye twitched. "Thanks." 
    "No problem. Anytime!" I snickered. "Well, any team we make, then, will be an odd makeshift of this little crowd." 
    "Doesn't th- that make you a little nervous, Lord?" 
    "Not at all! It'll just take some time and practice! In the meantime, however, I have some stuff to take care of. After all, Grace is currently sort of catatonic, and Daniel's girlfriend, Allison, is nowhere to be found." 
     "L- Lord. If it is true that Quilke Weldspar, being the lead commander of the Gulnaya Dhuere, led this rebellious conspiracy against me, then I suggest we search for a team back in Polidoria, instead of here. See which of our brethren would still be loyal to us! Perhaps, at best, they'd still be loyal to you, my Lord." 
     "Really? Such a risky idea. With the Gulnaya Dhuere having betrayed your allegiance, and House Bathory resenting me, Polidoria must be a dangerous landscape by now, you know?"
     Elizara blinked. "So were you then legitimately thinking of pulling together just Allison, Grace, Daniel, Me, that 'General' Brandon Yuichi, and yourself?" 
     "Maybe." I winked. 

     "L- Lord! Apologies on my soul, but I must object vehemently." 

     "Yeah, yeah. Fine. It probably would be better if we rounded up a spooky little road-trip, just the two of us, down to our homeland instead." 
     "F- First and foremost, we need to- I need to verify if Leader Quilke did in fact 'turn coat'." Elizara narrowed her eyes down to the floor. 
      I licked my lips and sighed, a smirk still plastered to my expression. "I don't see how it can't be painfully obvious. Then again, you may not have known him like how I came to know him." 
      "L- Lord, what are you implying?" 
      "I'm not trying to 'imply' anything. I need to tend to Grace, her brother, and that Alice woman. What I said, I said without mincing a shred. I... used to know Quilke. Very well."

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