Private Tales Clashing Fangs

[Fallon]

Fallon's slender brows rose at the unexpected sight as she stepped into the great hall, hand in hand with her love. All eyes shifted to their arrival, but Fallon's silver gaze settled upon the man on the table and the chains he wore. There was a moment, though it was brief, that she felt some semblance of pity for him, though that fleeting compassion was quickly squashed the second he opened his mouth and spouted his insults.

A soft growl rumbled in her chest as she took Victoria's invitation to settle into her lap, her head tilting as she watched. "I'd have gladly taken his throat out for you, but I admire the theatrics.." she murmured by Victoria's ear, suppressing a shudder at the cool hand sliding along her thigh. She poured a warm breath down the slope of her neck and grazed her nose along her jaw as she turned to fix her attention on the unfortunate creature as the room started to brighten.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

The bottom portion of the open, floor-length window had been covered by thick, wooden planks. When the sun crested over the breaking waves its light was cut upwards, and a golden silhouette of the window’s exposed glass was cast high on the opposite wall. As the sun rose, that deadly glow would descend, and the poor, hapless ghoul on the table would have nowhere to hide.

It would take time. The prisoner would be forced to watch his death - his final death - approach him. Victoria was looking forward to how his words would change, how his threats and insults would turn to pleas and groveling. She would watch his pride crumble beneath the weight of the sun and reveal him for the worm he was. He would beg. They always begged.

Fallon’s hot breath rolled down her neck, freezing into a soft plume of vapor where it met her skin, still-icy from the sea’s wind. ”I know,” she cooed softly, ”But this is my gift to you.” She added a gentle touch of nails to her hand’s next pass at Fallon’s thigh. ”And I don’t want anything so filthy anywhere near your lovely mouth.”

She snapped the fingers of the hand not currently groping her fiancée and a crystal goblet was brought to it. Similar drinks were being served to those in attendance, and the silence had started to give way to a low murmur. For Fallon, a mulled wine was presented, warmed with cinnamon and spice. The refreshments were a delicious insult. The prisoner’s death, the end of his long and storied life, was just entertainment.

His protestations came in slow waves now. “Death of tradition” something and “ruination of your house” and so forth. Victoria sneered in silence, and the lower that pane of sunlight became, the more frantic the words got. She blinked away the aching of her eyes from the natural light, this was worth the discomfort.

”Do you know how frightened we are of death?” Victoria said softly to Fallon, watching the sad, pitiful vampire before them. ”Of true death.” A pause as she studied that fear, saw his angry face falter every time it glanced at the lowering dawn. She took a slow, calculated pull of her cup, consuming the death she had wrought upon others so that she might continue to flee from it. ”Absolutely terrified, all of us. More afraid than any mortal creature.”

 

[Fallon]

Fallon had seen more than enough death in her life not to be harrowed by it, and she had heard more pleas than she could count to be able to ignore them without a moment of guilt. She was too proud for guilt when it came to doing her job, but it would forever haunt her each time she reminded herself that she'd almost killed Her. Fallon would not have survived Victoria's true death, and as she spoke of such things the Garou shifted uncomfortably.

She had never feared death, it was a part of life, but now she would be leaving behind something eternal, and she had never wanted to live forever, until now. That she wouldn't be there to warm her, protect her, love her.. Would she turn to another? Fallon's chest tightened, and for a brief moment there was a ripple of muscle under her skin as the fresh rage at her mortality heated her blood. Even the cup of some other's blood that Victoria sipped from Her lovely mouth prompted a quiet growl of jealousy.

The vampire's rapidly rising voice was grating on her, and had it not been a gift and a point in the making, Fallon would have given him a swifter end if only to save the assault on her sensitive ears. If only to give her self-riled rage something to bite down on. She watched him sink as low as he could, and listened to him scream as the fingers of light stretched out for him. Fallon's fingers dug into her love's cool flesh, her silver gaze set unblinking on the creature as he paid the ultimate price for insulting Her.

How the wolf smiled.

 

[Victoria O'Connor]

Now the begging, the pleading. How spineless they all became in the light. The chains groaned against the vampire’s struggling, and the crowd’s murmuring was soon drowned. The shrieking, high and hollow, came next.

His wrists caught fire first, anchored in place by their tether. It took only a few seconds for the blaze to travel the length of his arms to consume his shoulders. His body bucked and writhed now, fully wrapped in tendrils of agony and fear. The entire ordeal lasted scarcely twenty seconds and naught but ash remained on the long, black table.

Victoria stared at it. She wanted her anger to fade with the man’s screams… but it hadn’t. It hadn’t been enough. Maybe she should have hung him in the dungeons for a few weeks first. No matter.

She looked to Fallon. At least her wolf’s honor had been avenged. With a smooth lean forwards she planted a jarringly tender kiss on her lips, smearing the small drop of blood on her mouth. Everyone watched. Everyone understood what it meant. They had two queens now.

The long blinds were drawn against the steadily rising sun. Victoria relaxed a bit as the oppressive yellow light was cut out. The prisoner’s ashes were swept from the table and collected in a small nondescript urn. She had given no instructions on their disposal. She would have preferred to tell her men to mix his ashes with the kitchen waste, though doing so might cost her more respect from her coven than she could afford to lose right now.

And so she waved them away. She was tired, suddenly, and she just wanted to sit with her wolf.