Languages: Thalassian, Common and various magical/forbidden languages
Currently LivingâŠer haunting: @draconecastle
Birthplace: Quel'thalas
Religion: Spiritualism
Fears: abandonment, being forgotten, the devouring shadows of the in Between
Personality:
Sweet and a little shy, Lottie has deep empathy and unending curiosity. Bright and clever with a silly sense of humor. She is often sad and melancholy and very lonely.
Relationships âââ
Mother: Mimith âMimiâ Bloodhaven (Deceased)
Father: Aelynin Bloodhaven (deceased)
Siblings: twin sister Seralah @seralahbloodhaven
Spouse: none
Children: None
Other Family: an Uncle Vestes Bloodhaven, her fatherâs brother. The Starweather family on her motherâs side
Pets: sometimes she sees the ghost of Seraâs childhood cat, Victor
Sex & Romance ââ
Turn ons: She doesnât have a bodyâŠso itâs all emotional with Lottie. She craves romance and attention. Long talks. Sheâd sell her soul to hold hands.
Turn offs: being ignored
Love Language: deeply emotional romance. She is fiercely protective.
Lottie had been unnerved at the little glimpses she had seen of her alternate, future self. She knew time didnât truly exist for the dead, but as she was still tethered to the in between which threaded itself through the world of the living, she experienced time in her way, or rather experienced vicariously through Seralah.
Having no flesh and blood or bones to move through the world, there was no barrier for what Lottie could perceive and feel. There was no way to stop agony or longing. No way to block the vibrations of magic.
Lottie was the only one who felt the branches of the iron tree as they were brought into and hidden in the castle. She had never felt anything like it. It felt like death in a way she had never before experienced. Every dark, shadowy hungry thing that writhed in the in between woke and drenched her world in blackness. Fear made her condense her spirit and she focused on what mattered to her most. What made her herself.
âI love you, Seralah,â she said to the dark that encroached on the small twinkle that was her soul. âI love you, Roval. I love you, Daddy.â
The golden threads of her love banished the shadows like mist facing the rising sun. Her victory would mean nothing because more took their place and experiencing love drained her. She was going to weaken and be overcome.
At the moment she felt herself being pulled apart, her existence being consumed by the entropy of the in between, Lottie felt ManusâŠvanish and knew only despair.
The pain of having her spirit ripped to shreds nearly broke Lottieâs consciousness. She tried weakly to feel Roval. Sera. Anyone. To say goodbye, to beg for help, hoping their belief could save her somehow. For a moment, all was darkness. Beyond darkness. Lottie drifted in a cold voidâŠalone at the end as all must be.
And thenâŠ.Lottie opened her eyes.
It was so disorientating that she swooned, stumbling forward. Hands grasped her forearms, steadying her. She wasâŠalive. Breathing. In a bodyâŠher body. The contact of strong hands and long fingers pressed into her forearms made her gasp and tremble. To be touchedâŠ
Lottie raised her eyes and saw a man with cherubic dark curls and a wicked, crooked smile.
âThere you are,â he said, deep voice soft with amusement. In a body, she couldnât feel who this was.
âRoval?â She whispered, scared of her own voice, fascinated by it.
The man shook his head. âNo. Leo. Youâve done this a thousand times at least now. Usually, I have more time to explainâŠbut I donât this time. Look around, everything is breaking apart because the future is no longer certain.â He spoke quickly and she felt herself struggle to process, to understand. Her eyes stung with tears. And there was conflicting joy in being able to cry.
âShhhâŠitâs all right, Lottie,â he said, releasing her arms to cup her face. âAll you have to do is listen. Youâll know what to doâŠor we wouldnât be here. Donât be scared.â
She nodded, trembling. âBecause youâll always catch me,â she said. She didnât know how she knew thisâŠbut she did.
Leo nodded, expression softening. âAlways. Because you caught me first.â
Just as she began to calm herself, experiencing being alive less of a shock and more of an overwhelming pleasure, the world around her went gray and colorlessâŠ.it began to crumble, devoured by shadow, the veils between worlds tearing apart.
Leoâs fingers tightened on her face, his expression serious again. âTimeâs up. Go find me in the present. You know how. Follow the feeling you have for me now. The golden threads youâve called it,â he said quickly as a roaring, rending sound began to drown out his voice. âSink into my body. Youâll be safe there,â he shouted as entropy pulled them apart. âFind what I am! Tell me!â
She tumbled through a whirling tunnel of light that disintegrated into darkness and in that darkness were thousands of shimmering threads. An entire universe of love. All her love made manifest in a tangled labyrinth. Despair threatened again. She was literally no one, just a small spirit. If Manus could be diminished what could she possibly do?
Then she saw it, the bright golden thread that was the manifestation of her love for Leonardo. With her entire, exhausted being Lottie grasped this thread and let it pull her through time. Images of a life she had yet to live flashed by.
There was pain. So much pain and grief and disappointment that Lottie feared it wouldnât be worth itâŠuntil she saw the love and joy too. She saw her sister, happy at lastâŠwith children. She saw RovalâŠbut refused to look too closely. She wanted to experience all the joy and pain fresh with him.
Then, she was in the laboratory, sinking into Leonardoâs prone body. The shadows couldnât find her in this hiding space. They recoiled from him because he could command them.
More than just being in his flesh, she went deep into his soul where he was adrift in his own pain, blinded to his nature by indulgent, rancid self loathing. All these hurts, large and small keeping him diminished. Wicked.
The root of all evil began with the self.
So, she caught him, wrapped her being around him. Lottie loved him. In the future she loved him but the only time was now so she gave him all the love that would be.
There, in the darkness of Leoâs soul, she saw the great eyes of a serpentâŠno. A dragon, coiled and black. It had been there always because it was Leonardo.
âLeo. You have to wake up. Your family needs you. I need you,â she said to the great draconic spirit.
Leonardo watched Lucretia threaten him and he smiled. She still couldn't stay away. Oh, how she hated herself for coming back to him. How pathetically sweet. That would be his one consolation after her assault. He hissed impotently in her ear, shaking in the in-between from rage.
"I'll keep you alive too long if you dare hurt Mira." he growled. "When I tear you apart." he licked his lips instinctively and spat in disgust.
Lucretia sauntered her way out of the lab to freshen up for dinner without any notion of his presence as he clawed nothingness through her. Leonardo remained like a ghost, only able to witness his own vulnerable body heal. He scowled at his angelic face until his own voice behind him laughed.
Leonardo and Lottie from his future both appeared again, giggling at the tail end of an inside joke. The strange man that looked like himself but⊠richer. His skin was⊠different. Fleshy. Alive? He hated himself instinctively.
"This is you, you cunt!" Leonardo pointed at his body in the waking world, glaring at himself unbothered in the future. "That wasn't funny. Nor are her threats. Do you even-"
He didn't get a chance to say anything before it was clear who knew the rules here. The slap hit him hard followed by a headlock as he found himself dragged out of the lab. Terrified that he could feel here as well, Leonardo protested loudly before he was released in Mira's room.
Mira.
He stopped struggling and pushed himself away to look at her. She wasn't weeping in a heap over him. There were no shuddering sobs or sodden silk handkerchiefs. On her bed lay several silk dresses of different colors. Her body was covered by only a diaphanous gown as she strolled relaxed from the bath. A small grin formed at the corner of her beautiful mouth humming a song while pouring tea in her cup gently. The room was an explosion of celestial finery, as if she had some kind of special connection to the Castle. His face twisted in pouty confusion as she laughed at the music that played with her humming, Manus flirting a bit. He noticed then she was crying. Tears still fell from her eyes but it was a type of grief that gripped Leonardo in stunned recognition.
It was tears of resilience, of carrying on. The kind he would shed like skins until he couldn't cry for love anymore. She was stronger than him, she still did. He saw the heart of her and felt unworthy not with guilt but with admiration. His ghostly visage hovered behind her as she dressed for dinner. He saw how important her son was. She would not leave him alone in this place no matter what she felt. A lonely hollowness filled him, a deeply sad despair. He startled when his hand was grabbed gently by Lottie. It was firm, commanding. Her sweet feminine voice followed like flowers in his ears.
"This is when the cold hard bite of humiliation hits you." she whispered with some delight. "You didn't need to-"
"Yes I know." he snapped, pulling his hand away sharply. His future self groaned, crossing his arms.
"Lottie you are too kind to me." the richly dressed version of himself flirted, teasing. She smiled, looking back at him.
"Says you." she replied cutely.
Leonardo turned to watch them with disgust.
"You don't need to be here. Perverts. She is MY woman and you have no right to jest or to⊠whatever the fuck that is." he added like a gristle of disgust. "Leave while she's crying." he said angrily, tears of his own flowing down his cheeks.
Both the specters looked amused but unsurprised.
"Oh but she's not crying about you⊠and she's no longer yoursâŠ" his visage snapped at him. His eyes leveled harshly. "She never was. She played along like you asked her to."
"No⊠No this is some sick demon meddling!" he yelled, shaking with emotion. "Get out! Get OUT!"
Dizziness overcame him until he fell back into his body, partially awake. His lips moved the words but no sound came out. A single tear graced his perfect cheek and fell unnoticed to the world as he lay in the tomb-darkness of the lab.
Lottie was not aware she was an extraordinary spirit. She simply thought all the disembodied dead could go the places she could. Once, sheâd even gone back in time to see her father when he was a young man simply because she missed him so much. She followed the threads of her bloodline and so it was easy. She moved through planes of existence and even brought objects from far away, through the In Between, to materialize once more in the living world. The little ghost of the girl who had never got to live a single day was far stronger than she realized and love only made her more powerful.
Intently, she listened to Manus, appearing before him as she wanted to be seen should she ever get to be alive. She was a slight little thing, like her twin, but her face was softer, more of the idea of Seralah instead of an exact copy. Her hair was wavy, something Lottie changed herself because she liked wavy hair.
âIâve many ideas,â she said excitedly to Manus who currently had the shape of a cat. She had seen him take the shape of a handsome elf and would have preferred that, but she wasnât about to suggest it!
âIt is very clear to me Lady Lucretia is a vain person. I shall torment her using her vanity. I must be subtle. I want her to think all of this is her own mind, not an outside force. All I require is the energy to do these things. I exhaust myself quickly with big displays. If you could assist me, lend me some energy, I would appreciate it greatly.â She sounded very much like Seralah, perhaps a little less confident and more eager to please.
Her entire being vibrated with excitement. She wasnât sure exactly what Manus was offering, how it would work, but she knew she wanted it more than anything sheâd ever wanted before.
âIâll impress you. I promise,â she said, smiling shyly with her ghostly visage. âLady Lucretia canât be allowed to behave that way. She violated Mister Leonardo and he did not care for it.â She wasnât sure how she knew this. It wasnât as though Leo said anything, he couldnât, but she could feel his feelings when inside his body.
Manus answered her enthusiastic tattling with a rush of energy. She felt it hum along the ephemeral fabric of her being. âThank you!â She exclaimed, picking up the quill with ease and writing a parting message to Roval.
Iâve some work to do. I wonât be long. Please wait up for me!
She hesitated, the quill hovering in the air over the parchment. Then, boldly, with a giggle that would be audible to Roval, she signed the message XOXOXOXOXO Lottie. She passed through him on her way to Lucretiaâs room. It was a wild flirt, though she wasnât sure he would take it as one. He would feel the chill of her pass though him in his bones, feel the tingle of her spirit sliding through his flesh, leaving behind the cloyingly sweet scent of funeral lilies.
She found the woman getting ready for dinner, hair wet from a bath, dressed in nice lingerie. Lottie thought she was a stunning, beautiful woman and thought it a shame she was so rotten. Lottie would have taken an ugly body to walk the world in. Anything to be alive. Seeing the living waste the precious time they had on being cruel and mean angered her.
Lottie came to hover very close to Lucretia, but not so close the other woman could feel the chill of her presence. This was a trick sheâd learned from demons who frequently phased in and out of the In Between. If one vibrated the air a certain way, the living found the smell very unpleasant. Demons did this naturally when phasing. Seralah said it smelled like rotten eggs. Lottie could mimic what they did naturally. So she did!
Primping in the mirror, Lucretia wrinkled her nose suddenly. âUghâŠwhat is that stench?â She murmured, waving her hand in front of her face.
Nothing Lucretia did helped the disgusting odor. It seemed to be coming from her very person. After dousing herself in perfume, Lucretia took another bath, pouring an entire bottle of perfumed oil into the water, scrubbing roughly at her skin until she was pink, her skin raw.
Lottie watched with grim satisfaction as the woman dried off and dressed in fresh lingerie. Lucretia raised an arm to get a whiff of her armpit and Lottie focused on making the odor again, but even stronger. Lucretia recoiled away and blanched, gagging.
The woman went to the sink and frantically used a bar of soap and water to wash her armpits. She did this four times. Nothing decreased the rotten egg smell that was so strong it seemed to ooze from Lucretiaâs very pores.
By the time Lottie had finished tormenting her, the woman was in hysterics, tearing things apart in her room, smashing bottles and sobbing. Lottie stood in the midst of the chaos and fed on this energy, replacing what she had expelled to perform her little parlor tricks.
I do hope that impressed you, Manus! I have many more ideas in mind!
Manus felt his puppet strings strained as the Castle collapsed into chaos. Heathcliff leaving furiously with Lillandyr was a relief. Her temper needed to cool. He was intrigued with her dreams. There was nothing more thrilling and he hoped they sailed on smooth waters to lull her into sleep.
Leonardo was⊠Manus had seen his son's future once. It was not one to be proud of. Until all those memories were⊠gone. Lillandyr wrote something new for him, after her magic seared open his flesh. What did this mean?
The aftermath of her attack on his son left much in shambles. It was high time they scare away some distant relatives. This holiday had far too many occupants to host properly. Lillandyr took care of that easily. Most had left by now. Those that stayed⊠were quite amusing.
Orin who could tell no truths and Pip who really should lie more often still looked comfortably settled, as did Seralah's twin cousins.
There was the matter of the Shadowglades⊠Nycasia and Varistan. Varistan was given unusual punishments.
Manus procured confused sailors cleaned and well fed to the locked library which was now Varistan's prison cell. He would pluck them from the shores as they lay dying and place them in solitary rooms deep in the castle dungeons. To the sailors, it was paradise. They lay suspended dreaming brilliant, fantastical things. Healed and lovely with life by the time they were offered as dinner to the starving vampire waiting for them.
Varistan was a terrible student. The worst Manus had ever seen. He was almost impressed. Withholding his supper and pleasures were the only ways to motivate him to read the stacks of Dracone and Shadowglade history books piled on the center desk. Varistan would pretend to read, mostly. His lack of interest was obnoxious. Didn't he want to understand how far their houses had history? Rewarding only worked somewhat with cigarettes and booze but it was the fresh blood brought to him with hazy confusion and handsome faces that finally lured him into the realm of academia.
A gruesome exchange that left no evidence as Manus grew some of the rose roots to pull the bodies into the nest of blooms to disappear forever. Varistan read a book, he would get his supper. All other needs were tended with luxuries he did not deserve. Plush blankets on the soft leather couches with too many pillows. Smokes and an enchanted music box which read your mind for the best song to play for your mood whether you liked it or not. Soft silk pajamas and warm company if he pleased. Manus never said WHEN he had to take his dinner. Sometimes Varistan would coax the humans to read to him the stupid historical tomes out-loud as he seduced them with a tongue far too clever to be anything but paranormal. Anything to break up the boredom of this forced indoctrination to a bunch of power hungry people far too long ago.
Manus missed the moment Varistan started to pay attention. The tome that made him sit up and start being serious.
Lottie had all his focus. The spirit that was stronger than a ghost. Ghosts were tethered by their lives but Lottie moved through dimensions like water. Manus watched her do it without realizing. Sometimes the creatures of unmaking clawed at her and other times she moved in an entirely new magical plane Manus could not see, only sense. Marvelous. He has not encountered an entity like her. Entirely fascinated she was romancing his Dracone heir, Manus was eager to entertain her thoughts. Especially the ones punishing Lucretia.
A white cat appeared in Roval's room and languidly stretched on his bed, jaw open wide in a yawn. Green emeralds flashed at him as the pretty eyes of the cat stared at an empty corner of the room where nothing was there.
Lottie⊠little one⊠You are far too extraordinary to be this upset. Of course I will help, you asked earnestly and that too I reward in an emergency. I will assist you in ridding this castle of vermin. I am curious on how you shall do it. Let's think of this as a little⊠test of leadership. If you delight me with something clever, I shall reward you for an hour each night at midnight with your heart's desire. You may only stay on Castle grounds, however. It will be an illusion for you, sadly. But for him you will be⊠very real.
Manus bit Roval's hand which had been idly petting him the entire time as he wrote with excited expressions in his notebook with Lottie.
"Oww, spicy catâŠ" Roval grumbled but went back to watching his quill now move frantically on the page by itself.
The surly bonds of flesh wound around the spirit of the girl who had never lived outside her motherâs womb. It had a gentle hold on her, despite the wickedness of the man said flesh belonged to. There was instant understanding. This was not possession. Lottie became Leonardoâs shepherd, watching over his bodily functions, strange as they were because of his state of undeath, like a good, little shepherd tending her innocent flock.
Oh, how lonely his heart was. How broken. Such desperate, desolate sadness suffused his entire being. HowâŠafraid he was. Of not being loved and being loved. He was a man at war with himself, a mind on fire with schemes made in the throes of pain he wouldnât recognize.
Lottie understood thisâŠfor she was lonely. She ached, not with flesh, but with every bit of the energy that made her consciousness which could not pass on because she had never drawn breath. She had never met another soul like hers. She had seen the loss of other children before they were born and the bright light came for them. Maybe it was the bond with her sister. Maybe it was her sisterâs dark command over the dead that kept her tethered to the terrible, devouring cold of the In Between. Lottie didnât know. But what had once been a lonely burden and constant fear was alchemized.
It was useful because it helped her understand Leonardo who lay helpless in Heathcliff Draconeâs lab. She knew what he really needed when Rovalâs beautiful mother wept over him. He needed to be loved even if he felt he didnât deserve such a thing. All souls needed love.
She wished she could have flesh to hold his hand and smooth his dark curls back from his forehead. Lottie desperately wanted to comfortâŠbecause a heartâs fondest wish is often the unacknowledged, secret desire for the same in return. She would consign her soul to any hell to have a single day to breathe the air, to be held in gentle arms, to feel warm and loved and precious. To never be forgotten.
The unbearable pain of the half light of being dead without ever having lived weighed heavy on the little ghost. Lottie could not even cry, though she felt she needed to. Her soft grief was interrupted when the cruel woman Lucretia came to torment Leonardo. Lottie was not shocked by her words or behavior. She could see emotions and she saw only raw, bleeding pain. Hurt people hurt others. It was a horrible cycle of agony. But she did not desire to comfort this woman. Because Lucretia threatened Mirabella and this would hurt Roval.
She had to warn him straight away. She knew Seralah would not be happy with her for leaving Leonardo, but he would be all right. He was strong, far stronger than he believed himself and he was brave too. He just didnât know it yet. But somehow, some way, Lottie knew.
She followed the golden thread of her love which was connected to Roval always. It flared brightly as she moved with it, another tether binding her to the torment of only seeing what she wished she had. Lottie felt no shame in seeing him naked. She saw people in all states, doing everything they would never want anyone else to see. As did all spirits, of course. The living need not fear her judgementâŠsuch things were only natural and she had no flesh to blush or react. These things were. And that was all.
She watched him shower, felt his emotions spill into the air, energy she refused to take in because it was his hurt. He was afraid. He knew, she realized. He knew his mother was in danger before he ever wrote on the foggy mirror that he would leave with his mother if Lucretia did not.
Leave? Oh no. He couldnât leave! She wouldnât be able to follow. Would she never see him again? It was unbearable. Besides, he belonged here. Maybe he didnât know that, couldnât see or feel it like she could. This was his HOME. The spirit in the castle believed this too.
She wrote back straight away.
Stay. I will protect her.
Her energy was warm all around him, vibrating with passionate resolve. She didnât even notice how easy it had been to write back. She didnât know that he could FEEL her spirit against his skin, passing through his body in a rush of tingling warmth and the sweet perfume of funeral lilies warmed by the sun. As she moved through his body to find Lucretia, he would not only feel her physically, but emotionally as well. Her spirit and his were briefly touching, intermingling. He would know Lottie meant her promise. He would know her growing feelings for him even if she refused to confess them. Roval would know this hurt her. It was the briefest contact, but time and space were not the same for the spirit.
Lottie didnât stay to see his reaction for this situation was dire and required immediate action. Her passion, her love, her desire to protect made her incredibly strong. So strong, any passing through the hall would see her, a grayish white specter with glowing eyes. Rats scurried away, deeper into their hiding places. Insects recoiled. When the Unseen world bled into the physical, it always made the natural things afraid.
She found Lucretia easily. Sheâd already taken a measure of her soul and knew the stink of it. The woman was primping, applying rouge and fluffing her long, dark glossy hair. Lottie seeped into the mirror and twisted the womanâs reflection, so that horror and ugliness looked back at her. Lucretia saw her faced aged dramatically, her cheeks sunken, lines like cracked glass around her mouth and eyes, jowls drooping.
Lucretia shrieked and staggered back, covering her face with her hands. Slowly, she looked back to the mirrorâs reflection and sawâŠnothing out of the ordinary, just her own horrified face. Lottie drew in the energy of her fear. Something sheâd never done before. She felt soâŠstrong. So present. She could do things. Really affect the physical world. Lottie knew this.
She shattered the mirror. Easily. Fragments went sailing. One sliced Lucreitaâs cheek and made the woman scream in fright. This act drained her energy to the point she could do little else but be an eerie presence.
This was not good enough for Lottie. She needed help.
Letting herself sink through the floor, she searched for Manus. He ignored her usually. She knew she wasnât important to him like the living were. But maybe he would help her. Give her the energy she needed to protect Roval and his mother.
âPlease, Manus,â she called out in the emptiness. âPlease listen to me.â
"Oh he's absolutely Heathcliff's son." Aunt Pitty-Pat said loudly in the foyer where many of the Dracone relatives mingled. She was a striking elderly woman with white and black hair in a proper bun, elegantly perched above a deep purple gown that held attention with authority.
It seemed to be the best place to see any drama, and for some perhaps a twinge of fear banded them together⊠near the front door. Ancient violence in the hallways was evidenced by roses everywhere and a grisly reminder that no one was ever really safe. No complicated pastries or steamy hot chocolate could ease the ever-present, bizarre threat of the Castle itself. As if feeling this thought with a shiver down her spine, Aunt Pitty-Pat shook her head and looked over at Roval.
The beautiful Spellbreaker turned his head away with embarrassment, cheeks flushing while pretending he was out of hearing distance. Pushed out of the lab earlier, he mingled with mulled wine over the ruined Christmas tree. He wondered if it was too soon to check on his mother. She was taking time alone in her quarters and asked him lovingly but sternly to leave her for an hour. He found himself painfully in awkward company as Orin was deep into a chat with Pip about Lucretia and he wasn't invited. Aunt Pitty-Pat was still not done with her unsolicited opinions as she laughed and made more assertions.
"It's ludicrous to think Leonardo would ever have a child." she snapped. "Remember his nightmares as a babe? Darling little dear. Black curly hair like the devil's own toddler. Absurdly huge eyes, always filled with tears. Aronsen was quite the fiend, a terrible brute to him. Used to put him on his shoulders and said he would never let him down." Aunt Pitty-Pat glared, looking around the room for her target but he was not there. She huffed and continued when no one asked.
"He was terrified of baby dolls when he played with the other girls because in his dreams, he was a father and his child bit his neck with sharp teeth and drained all his blood." she raised her eyebrows to check what kind of audience she had with her bluntness. A delighted smile graced her wicked face.
"Oh don't laugh, his fear was quite real. Extended into adulthood. He took a vow never to⊠fertilize." Her voice dropped when one is delivering the scandalous gossip. "Yes it's quite true. And good for him. There are still title-chasers even among educated people." she sighed with disdain. "Had jilted lovers about it. All the girls knew, and they knew he didn't really love any of them so long as he, wellâŠ"
Another woman with the classic Dracone features scoffed in revulsion at Aunt Pitty-Pat and rebuked her sharply.
"Absurd, offensive to assume all the women here would care or mock him about something that's his obvious fear, rational or not. And an intimate one at that. Especially these women. Manus only recruited the best minds." she said with a wrinkled nose, irritated at the accusation. Aunt Pitty-Pat's smile curled wide on her face.
"Oh sweet darling, we are all capable of cruelty. Sometimes it feels blunt like our nails or sometimes⊠it's simply a joke gone too far, a game started with no rules." she patted the woman's leg as if she found her precious.
"It became far worse than that for him. They made a rivalry out of it. A competition of seduction and empty promises. And it was the way they made him fall in love that was the worst. These were smart women. They knew all the things he yearned for in the books he hid inside while frowning in the corner of the library. Poetry, confessing their undying loyalty. Sweet treats with soft touches. They even tried approaching him together to entice the victory over his forbidden fear." She took a sip of wine.
"But it wouldn't work. I know this because I was a part of the committee that finally punished this outrageous behavior. Cruel to manipulate the heart of that beautiful angel." she scoffed. "Thank the gods Lucretia was there to protect him. Although. Well. I'll save her for another day." she laughed at herself loudly, giving a wink to Orin.
Roval couldn't listen anymore. He wanted another look at the man that claimed to be his father. Compulsively, he headed towards the lab. He stopped behind a glass tank so as not to disturb the visitor sitting by Leonardo.
Lucretia was a hard woman not to stare at. Every feature was designed like a magnet and Roval was not experienced in resisting this kind of woman. Far too old for him although she could well surpass younger elves in beauty, he maintained a distant wondering at her painted lips and exposed legs.
He froze when he saw her touch herself, whispering in Leonardo's ear. Against his judgement, he walked a bit closer to listen. Everything in his mind screamed for him to leave. His eyes opened wide against all of these, drawn in to watch.
"Maybe Iâll kill that woman⊠what was her name? Mirabella. And you canât do anything except⊠fucking lay there and hurt. Worry. You should worry.â Lucretia said as she continued her perversion. She did not see Roval recoil in horror listening to this threat, nor his furious, clenched body.
He did not see her finish her assault, leaving quickly to think. Struggling to comprehend what he saw, he navigated to his quarters and slammed the door behind him. His mind and heart were pumping overtime, face red like he was ill.
"I have to get her out of here." he said to no one in the room, but it was really to Lottie. Pain etched his face and he stopped himself from saying the words. He was breathing heavily from anxiety and decided to take a shower. Something felt dirty about all this. He regretted his intrusion on that horrid, beautiful⊠an image of her moaning excited him and he felt disgusted shame for even the fleeting thought.
He pulled his clothes off his body like they were on fire, the anger from helplessness in this encounter making him sour. Why didn't he barge in and confront her? Was he such a coward that sword and shield he'd valiantly conquer but a woman with a sharp tongue rendered him helpless? He hated her for this. He hated the fear for his mother that now sat like a unforgettable thing as he got older. It was a humbling type of love, seeing her now. Knowing what she did to raise him. It was protection. It was always love and never a thoughtless decision. What would have come of him in such a place? Would he have been slain as a toddler when the war came for the Dracones? He wondered if the blood of a baby made a bud instead of a bloom.
Hot water poured over his head in the shower, soothing these thoughts down the drain. He took his time, filling the room in a cloud of steam. Naked, he did not touch his towel as he rushed to the huge mirror and squeaked his finger against the glass to write.
Lottie I need help. Lucretia must leave or Mother and I will.
He looked at his words, feeling guilty asking for her help. That's when he knew something had wrapped around his heart here, pulled in like a root.
Lottie.
He didn't want to leave at all. He never wanted to leave. Is that how Manus made monsters?
Lottie had never received a Winterveil present and thus, had never given the holiday much thought. Celebrations, birthdays, these were things she had never and could never have so she left them to the living. Though, she liked the energy of Winterveil, all the loved ones gathered close, their spirits bright with everything from anger to love to annoyance to joy.
All the same, it was like being out in the frozen cold, looking through frosted glass. Forgotten. Alone. As she moved through Dracone Castle, only amusing for parlor tricks. She drifted around the enormous Winterveil tree Seralah had made Manus conjure. It was at least twenty feet tall and ringed in brightly colored gifts.
She liked many of the ornaments. There was one that drew her in particular, a glass teardrop with a miniature angel inside, surrounded by a nest of gilded tinsel so it looked like a captured cloud. The angel was pretty with golden wings and long, dark hair. But the ornament made her sad in a strange way she couldnât understand. A little toy, steam locomotive chugged around the base of the tree, weaving through a candy colored city of gifts. She read the names on the packages.
There werenât any for her, not that she expected there to be. What could one even give a ghost? Still, she wished there was a present under the tree for her. Just an empty box with pretty wrapping would have sufficed so she could feel included. Thought of.
A ripple of sharp sadness went through her when she saw there wasnât one for Roval either. Of everyone there, she thought he deserved the most gifts. To see him not even get oneâŠupset her.
Again, she felt so helpless. She would give him a hundred gifts if she were alive. Thoughtful ones to reflect his noble character. In the parlor, when the magic was a storm he bravely protected everyone. Even her, though he didnât know it. It had hurt him too, made him bleed.
That moment, watching him stand tall even when afraid and hurting sent her from infatuation into love. She couldnât bear it if there was no gift for Roval on Winterveil morning. She knew how it felt to be left out.
Lottie spent some time in thought, drifting through the castleâs crypt. She liked it there, the spirits were not mindless or fearful and simply curious and tolerant of her. It felt like the only place belonged, though she knew this feeling was dangerous. To belong to the grave was to eventually disappear.
It was easier to move through walls and floors. She felt much stronger.
This gave her a dangerous idea.
She was going to go home and try something.
Traveling outside felt very strange and it took all of her will to stay together. The natural world wanted to disperse her spirit as was the order of things, but every bit of her energy resisted this. Love, she thought, thatâs what made her stronger than the will of creation to see her move on.
She flowed over the land, startling nighttime creatures who could see or sense spirits. Bloodhaven manor no longer belonged to her sister, but the man who had taken it from her had not yet set foot on the estate and everything remained untouched.
Lottie could feel her strength return and it was easier to hold herself together when she crossed through the door over the threshold. This was home, where she had spent most of her existence.
That night, the spirit of her mother was not there, much to her relief. She had been her murderer and she supposed her mother would not be pleased to see her. She hoped that sheâd moved on to whatever punishment that surely awaited her.
Lottie sank into the floor, deep into her own family crypt. She hadnât gone down there since her fatherâs death. If his spirit had been tethered, she would have been sad for him to be trapped in the In Between like her. If he had been gone, she would have been so sad she had missed a chance to speak to him. Now, surely, he was long gone, his energy returned to the beautiful world.
Inside his tomb he was only bones and rotted cloth, his skeletal hands grasping the sword that had been his fatherâs, passed down from the first Bloodhaven patriarch to the last, over his chest. The golden stag of her House decorated the hilt, antlers holding a ruby blood moon. Sanguis Meminit was inscripted on the blade, her House motto. Father didnât need his sword anymore and had left no son to pass it to.
Roval should have a noble blade with heavy history and honor. If she could have asked her father, he would have agreed, she knew this deeply within her soul.
With these thoughts, golden threads spilled out of her being, winding around her fatherâs remains, trailing off and upwards, leading her to the place the heart of her called home. Lottie knew she could move the sword and herself. Distance was for flesh. Time was for the living. She could transcend both as all of her vibrated and sang with the joy of seeing these golden threads of love leave her being, feeling them connect to Roval and her sister.
She curled herself around the blade and sent all of her energy home to Dracone Castle, to Roval where he slept, his dark curls spilled across his pillow, his angelic features soft with sleep.
I will never love him more than I do right now, Lottie thought, the room lit with the gold of her love, the threads winding around them both.
The sword of House Bloodhaven lay at the foot of his bed, softly gleaming in the winter moonlight. A noble blade for a noble man as the ghost of Charlotte Bloodhaven faded softly, exhausted, thin and pale in the In Between.
Orin made a point to glance at Lucretia most of the time, unveiled desire shockingly blatant despite the brief reunion. He sat back on the couch, smoking a cigar slowly. The attractive vampire crowding him became useful to gauge any reaction from the deadly beautiful elven woman. He saw none, her poker face one of long mastery even after Varistan was long gone.
It was insufferable the way she slipped on masks impossible to define. Evocative, out-of-reach⊠everything that kept Orin hooked. When he took off a piece of clothing he gave sharp, angry tugs at fabric and snapped it down in feigned frustration. Looking grumpy in defeat wore on him attractively.
Pip leaned into his disrobement with tilted head suckling a bottle of wine and a big show of taking his garments off to the squeals of the tipsy girls spilling over him on the couch. He mimicked Lords and Ladies they knew mutually and had them in tears impersonating Magistrates.
The difference in ages started to show. Pip played with the young women with ridiculous overture while Orin and Lucretia were deep and stoic into a one-on-one match. A stern face set in determination carried Orin like a man sure of victory. Lucretia smile knowingly. Men were so easy to read. Orin knew she was enjoying this but just this once, he wanted to win. To prove to her what the years apart did to him. Then he saw it. A small tell, a double-bat of her eyelashes at the cards. Women were so easy to read. He was about to bet his pants when everything in the room became drenched in amethyst light.
Orin braced the table with both hands, like this could be an anchor. Chaos ignited fast around them. The sound of Leonardo and Manus' magic channeled with Lillandyr's was ear-splitting, reminding Orin of the scream Leonardo made coming back to his home having just missed the massacre of his family. He was with him that day, remembered the stench. The heat. No one tells you the bodies steam in cold weather. Orin looked in horrid fascination at the rising mist from their flesh and the mournful magic Leonardo shouted from a hoarse throat and wild eyes. Some horrors stay with you.
This sounded worse.
Glass shattered around the room dangerously. The Castle couldn't protect any of them. Pip's flirtations had shielded the women from glass shards blasting them, peppering his back instead. He scrambled over a shrieking Hazel and Lenora, looking at Orin for guidance. Orin was already on his feet, sword drawn but shielding himself from glass that continued to barrage them like shrapnel, trying to make his way under the table where Lucretia already slipped.
Roval stood up in a battle stance. Enchanted by Lottie's involvement with the group, his brain snapped in confusion at the sound. His Spellbreaker instincts brought him to his feet but he could feel the power without even tuning in. He did the only thing he could do. Roval closed his eyes and lifted his arms like he was holding an invisible ball. A shield of magic hummed around them, bursting out of his core. Teeth grit and shook with the hands that tried to hold it, moans of frustrated trying causing his brow to furrow in intense concentration. Blood trickled out of his nose and eyes. Flashes of glass bounced off, protecting everyone in the room, for now.
Heathcliff's lab was destroyed. Centuries of collecting samples rare and mundane popped and shattered everywhere. Toxic fumes mixed and sizzled, choking the air and had the shocked doctor falling down, crawling over glass shards for his gas mask in his bottom desk drawer. Fear had his eyes nearly popped out, terror of another family massacre racing through his mind.
I invited them all here, I let them in. I let them in for the dark magic that swallowed us to finish off entirely. His thoughts raced in anguish.
LillandyrâŠ
SeralahâŠ
Deep fear set him into a coughing fit from the caustic chemicals.
AronsenâŠ
Then a wild, intrusive thought he knew instantly wasn't logical.
My son⊠Roval.
There was no time to think about this, to make sense of anything but surviving. Finding them. He sucked in air hard when he slammed the gas mask to his face, black tears slipping down from the harsh fumes.
Stumbling to his feet, he used his lab coat as a shield over his head running out, slipping and losing footing as items came crashing down like judgment.
"MANUS!" he shouted in the foyer, screams of terror chorusing through the Castle as guests felt it too.
"MANUS! BRING ME TO HER!" he commanded. A white cat hissed at his feet and ran down the hallway, turning around to watch him. Heathcliff ran to follow, ground shaking behind him as he heard Aronsen approach.
"What's happening?!" Aronsen demanded of his brother, grabbing his arm harshly, more for reassurance. "Where are they?!" he growled, a warrior's demand as his eyes mirrored the murder in Heathcliff's. Heathcliff didn't answer, holding the wall for balance and wincing, chucking off his gas mask to gasp the air of the foyer.
The cat ran with silence amid the shaking walls and Heathcliff and Aronsen followed, wincing as they got closer to the sound. As they reached the library where Lillandy and Varistan were, everything suddenly stopped. Heathcliff crashed into the door, not expecting this. He grunted as Aronsen smashed into him, pushing him hard out of the way to access the library.
Paper was still falling like leaves. Books were everywhere, piled in dunes from spilled shelves. Heathcliff saw Lillandyr and a man he thought he'd seen before in a tearful embrace. Confusion twisted his face as he rushed over, falling to the ground next to her. He tore her from the strange man protectively, holding her face firmly between his hands. His voice was heavy with despair.
"Lillandyr, are you ok?!" Heathcliff's voice rolled out demanding worry, hands shaking.
Aronsen was on Varistan, hand around his neck. He was slammed against the wall, vampire teeth bared at him like an animal as his body crowded him.
"I didn't invite youâŠ" Aronsen threatened before an animalistic noise hummed in warning, fingers gripping tighter. He had no idea what if anything Varistan did. It didn't matter. He was rude. And Manus told them never to abide rudeness.
Leonardo was kissing Mira in the Dracone Silvermoon City estate when he cried out, face contorted in pain. Writhing on the bed naked among the tangled sheets, he screamed and arched his back, convulsing. With no control over his body, drool trickled from his mouth and he moaned in fear, eyes rolled back. Mira tried to move objects away from him, panicking. He looked to be suffering from a magical affliction but the origin was unknown.
"Leo! I'm here, I'm hereâŠ" she reassured him, not knowing what to do.
When it was over, he leaned over the bed and wretched black blood. He cried pitifully, weeping profusely without knowing why. Bawling, moaning and sobbing as Mira gathered him to her arms draped in a robe silk robe, pressing his head to her chest and making soothing sounds and kissing the top of his head, her fingers gripping his scalp as she rocked him.
"Shhh, it's over. It's over." Mira cooed, unsure of her own words.
He cried loudly, holding on to her, dampening her chest. Gasping for breath, he finally began to speak. Red eyes overflowing with endless tears wouldn't stop as he spoke.
"I need to go home." he said to her with eyes that sought refuge with deep vulnerability. "Take me home, Mira."
The request of the tone was strange, as if it was impossible to do alone. As if she knew what he meant. "Take me home to the Castle. Take us home to our son." his voice shook with hope.
