Obsession is the height of passion, but what does one do when they find themselves enthralled with their enemy. Talamayas Sol loses his mother when he stumbles upon a mage in the deserts of his territory, and he is plunged into a despair he's never...
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Tala led Wren down the stone corridors and up the stairs with his hand around his arm. The gesture was to urge him quickly with them, but also to reassure him. The occasional worried glances from Tala back to him told Wren as much as he needed to know. Clearly, his presence was not looked well upon by the vampire council, nor was his living. That being the case, Tala let Wren go as they neared the meeting chambers, and they crawled around the corner separately but together.
Eight men awaited in robes that hid their heads beneath hoods–half white and half black–standing in front of the three empty thrones of the Sol throne room. The color divide signified the balance of territories represented by the members. These were the most powerful and influential vampires in the world, and even Tala would fall if they decided on anything that meant Wren's death. Tala knew that, and as soon as they entered, took a knee with Shan to bow to them. Seeing as he was Tala's, Wren followed suit.
The man in black furthest to the right murmured something to a white cloak, but Wren kept his eyes averted from theirs. It would be easy for him to offend these men, so he would follow Tala's lead. Tala and Shan stood when they bid, but Wren remained on one knee, sure that he was not an equal here.
"It is polite," the man in the dark robes said, pulling back his hood to reveal the dark skin and hair of the Zehirs. This was Tanya's predecessor without a doubt, though all family ties were separated when they stepped up to the council. "You may meet my gaze, Wren Song." It wasn't so much permission as a demand, and Wren lifted his eyes to the man's.
They were blue, such a vivid shade for his dark complexion, but also piercing as the man looked into Wren's soul for every hint as to what he thought and where his loyalties lay. Whether true or not, whatever the man discerned would bear weight, so Wren was as passive and obedient as he could be. It wasn't as if the council could use allure on him, so there was nothing to fear in that respect, though being an infiltrator class mage made it worse rather than better diplomatically.
"How may we be of service?" Tala asked to them, keeping a respectful stance despite standing, and Shan was silent and vigilant at his side. It was strange seeing Tala's arms not crossed over his chest or half strangling someone, something he was sure the council noticed as well.
Another councilman took a step forward and dropped his white hood to reveal long golden hair tied back into a neat ponytail and another pair of powerful blue eyes, these as light as the sky. Wren knew the man as Nicholas Arc, the vampire who'd sired Vincent.
"Wren Song is no longer in your dungeons, I see," Nicholas said, dropping his gaze down to Wren with malice. Nicholas, more than others, loathed mages and was in no way favorable of the Mage-Vampire Alliance even if his legacy, Neil Arc, was spearheading it. The man was certainly interested but also skeptical of its extended survival.
"I do not require a cage to keep him as he will wither without my house's magic in a matter of half a day, Tala replied cordially. "That much, I'm sure you've heard, but I also consider Wren one of my own and commit to him the same protections as any in my house."
