The Journey Home

Another day, another dollar, thought the Puppeteer, recalling a saying he’d heard on an American Broadcast since his awakening, while he locked up his shop for the night. With the turn of a key, the pins clicked into place to secure the mechanism, but the man was hardly satisfied with such an insubstantial precaution. His key danced across his knuckles as his fingers wiggled to summon a few of his strong strands to further bind the mechanism. The Puppeteer gave a nod after a moment, certain that no one could ever pick the lock given the weave of thread wound around the pins. With the drapes drawn, set to alert him should they be disturbed, he assessed that he would be the next person to enter his shop. He tucked the key into a hidden breast pocket of his jacket, which sewed itself shut with a wave of his nimble fingered hand to seal it.

Turning, the Puppeteer’s lips parted to birth a whistle. The notes of the tune he fluted bounced like a buggy on a cobblestone drive, reminiscent of the song’s name: “The Rocky Road to Dublin”. As he set out, meandering down the sidewalk with his cane twirling in his hand, his top hat perched atop his head, the Puppeteer’s brown eyes watched the villagers and visitors taking their evening strolls. Among the townfolk dressed in simple trousers, skirts, and shirts, the Puppeteer seemed misplaced. His suit, a black so dark that the night sky would turn green with envy, bore neither a speck of dust or smear of dirt anywhere on the creased cloth. The shirt beneath, partially hidden like a lass’s coy smile sheltered behind her hand, was a the vibrant green of the Emerald Isle itself with gleaming silver buttons down its front like dew on the grass.

A stroll near the end of the day? It really had seemed like a good idea when she'd been sitting in her room staring at a book. But she yearned to be outside, to be among other people. She wasn't about to go roaming the castle though. It was just...creepy.

This evening really was very lovely. It had rained earlier, leaving a heavy feel to the air. She wore the same clothes she always wore, dark wash skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and her black slipper shoes. It was comfortable and easy to maintain. She did decide that learning the village would be a good idea though, maybe she could find a laundry matt. She felt so strange doing her laundry at school.

She stopped, just before entering the village area. There were several people out for strolls it seemed. She marveled for a moment, how old-timely this place felt. She almost felt like she'd taken a journey back in time, to a world forgotten by the modern world. She would even bet that half these people didn't own a computer or a cell phone. Of course, she could count herself in on that half, because she didn't own either.

Stopped just outside the village, she stood, watching, afraid that if she entered this would-be past, that she might somehow damage it, or change it. She imagined that she might be a bit of a strange site for these people to see. White hair, crystal colored eyes...she didn't want to relive the horror again. She shifted, a little nervous now. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...

Standing in the aged archway, half hidden along the stoned wall of the alleyways of the village. Dark eyes slid left to watch the Puppeteers approach. A faint smile appeared on plush lips at the granduer stride of one of the few people she had taken time to converse with. Raven hues darted back to the right. Taking note of surely one of the students from the university, with her more modern attire and how she had paused with an unsure look upon the girls face.

Bruxa was garbed in her usual gothic princess look. Black leather pants that fit her lithe form like a second skin. Knee high boots, the silky white top beneath the red fitted vest. Overlaying all that was the familiar long black leathered duster with the blood red fabric rose still pinned upon the lapel. Her gaze returned to the top hatted gentleman as he drew closer. Coal black hair pulled back into a braid that hung down her back, exposing the sharp pixie like features.

Ebony orbs seemed to brighten as she stepped out from the shadows right in front of that strolling man. Pale alabaster visage supported the mischevious look she often sported around him. "My my..." She began, pouring on that thick sultry southern accent. "You...my dear Puppeteer ...is exactly who I was looking for..." A light flutter of those long dark lashes as she gave him a mock curtsey, holding the sides of her coat out as if it were some grand ballgown.

"I heard you have opened a shop since our last meeting..." She straightend back to her full albeit petite height. "It seems you took my advice back at the carnival after all with starting the business" Hands laid upon the slender curve of her hips as the smile twitched at the corners of that bowlike mouth and widened. "I wanted to commend you on the new adventure and thought I could get a fitting on the outfit I won from you" A lone brow rose and that smile grew puckish with the memory of the bet he had so gracefully lost.

The Puppeteer was so distracted by setting the security for his shop, he had never noticed the faint tingle at the edge of his perception that signaled the nearness of threads long ago cast off from his own suit as a certain vampiress crept from the shadows of an archway, carried by the click of heels, to approach him. Her voice, a sweet that his ears savored every syllable of, caught his attention before anything else as she spoke. “Oh I am, am I, my dear Doll?” he asked, a playful smirk spreading his lips. “And why might that be?” As he asked his second question, the Puppeteer snapped his fingers. In an instant, every tiny imperfection in her outfit that only the trained eyes of an expert tailor could spot, corrected themselves with a shifting of strings. “Better,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “More befitting a Doll of mine.”

“Yes, well, it was only natural that I open up a shop, I suppose,” mused the man as he cast a glance over his shoulder to his shop a few blocks back down the street. When he turned his gaze back to the pretty porcelain doll in front of him, he couldn’t help but notice, off in the distance, another obvious outsider standing near the outskirts of the village. The young woman’s attire left a lot to be desired, far too simplistic in its modern styles for the Puppeteer to really enjoy, though it was by their design that he picked her out from the crowd of villagers.

“A fitting?” The Puppeteer quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yes, the dress you want.” His grin split his lips like a waxing moon as he cocked his head, his top hat finally achieving a perfect vertical orientation while its perch was askew. “You should know that a ‘fitting’ is hardly necessary for a tailor of my talents,” he answered, giving a playful wink as tightened the bust of her top to simulate the touch of a groping hand.

She shifted and quickly moved behind the nearest building, and looked about. While it was nice to be outside, she had this sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost like she'd eaten something terrible for her. What had possessed her to come outside? What had convinced her to come into the village and wander about like she belonged there? Clearly, she was suffering from madness on some level. Because if she was perfectly well, then she never would have allowed herself outside those castle walls, unless it was for class.

She shifted again, and closed her eyes. She pulled in a deep breath, and let it out in stuttered breaths. Quickly a hand came up to her chest, to cover her heart, which was thumping so hard, she was sure it could be seen making an imprint on her pale flesh, and even thru her shirt. She swallowed hard, and forced herself to calm down.

She came to this town honestly, with a taxi and money. She wasn't here to hurt anyone. She was only here to learn, to get the education that she deserved from a top school. How else could she be expected to have a college degree. And a degree from Caislin Hallows was just as good as one from anywhere else, right? She nodded quickly, and pulled in another deep breath.

Quietly she moved, and popped out from behind the building. The walkers had died down now, there were only a few couples moving about. She made it a point to not make eye contact with anyone, as she moved forward, walking slowly thru the town. She wanted to look in shop windows, and maybe even come back for a little shopping, once she found someone to come with her. If someone was with her, it would be easier, better, and more fun. At least, that was the way she viewed things. She could reassure herself of that now, and test the actual theory later.

As she moved into view of a shop, she stood, looking into the window. A simple coffee shop. How quaint. She didn't want to appear to be staring, so she took only a moment to take the scene in and then quietly moved on down the street, trying very hard not to care about the other people that were finishing up their strolls.

Bruxa felt each tug and nip of her clothing as stitching was adjusted to fit upon her small frame more perfectly. Fingers drummed lightly upon the leathered fabric of her pants as her chin lifted, lengthening her neck, head held higher...a small trick to give the illusion of standing taller. "Yes my dear Puppeteer....better, You should really be around when I dress to tidy up things..."

The hands that laid upon her hips moved down over that gentle curve to the top of those slender thighs before gliding back up and re-perching back upon her hips once more. Watching the magical seamster as his gaze moved across her shoulder and looked to something behind her. Following his eyes she spied the girl she had noted earlier before bringing those coal black orbs back to the Puppeteer as he finally remembered the outfit he owed her.

"Well well then...no fitting is necessary you say..." A wicked smile formed on those smooth velvet lips. "I hope to find the outfit soon then hanging in my room..." Glancing back over her shoulder yet again. Noting how the girl now stood in front of a coffee shoppe, staring into its dark window. "It seems you have other prey....errr....I mean...." She turned back to the man with that childish lop sided grin continuing in that teasing tone. "Possible clients to bestow your talents upon and I shouldn't take up any more of your time?"

Were he any other man, the Puppeteer might feel his own clothing tightening in a particular place as his Doll trailed her fingertips down the leather of her pants like ice creeping across black iron. Instead, the Puppeteer sucked in his bottom lip and quelled such welling sensations. The young vampiress’s comment was just as alluring as the sight she presented, and he released his bottom lip to smirk. “Is that an invitation, my Doll?” he asked finally.

Her next comments were less pleasing to the Puppeteer, as she seemed to be denying him the luxury of her company while he created the outfit around her. Fashioning clothing around a mannequin, a true mannequin, just wasn’t nearly as appealing as one that lived and felt ever brush of thread, every prick of the needle, every squeeze of the fabric. “While a fitting isn’t required, I would rather have you there as I make it, so that I can adjust its style to suit you as I make it.” The Puppeteers leather shoes clacked softly across the cobblestones as he approached Bruxa, hefting his cane instead of rapping its silver capped bottom on the street.

“A pity that I already closed the shop and have no intention of opening it again until morning then,” he answered, leaning in so that his words were but a whispered breath on her ear and that the brim of his top hat disturbed her curls if she didn’t move. Easing back with a smile, the Puppeteer rose to his full height, which, given the femme’s heels, was not terribly taller than her. The Puppet Master extended an arm to her, inviting her to latch her petite form to it. “Were you looking to feed tonight, my Doll?” he asked in a low voice as casually as a father discussing the events of the school day with his daughter.

If she allowed, whether attached to his arm or not, he left with Bruxa, again, if she deigned to follow, passing by the ivory misfit that peered into shop front after shop front. Whether his darling Doll of an escort accompanied or not, he tilted towards the young woman, his top hat maintaining its seemingly precarious perch. “Stop by the Nimble Needle tomorrow and I’ll fashion for you a nice dress… for a price.”

In the matter of a few moments, the streets seemed to clear out. It almost seemed like the calm before the storm. Well, most people except the really pretty woman, and the strange man with a top hat. They also looked like they didn't belong here, in this small town, that seemed to be outside time, unaffected by the changes of the universe.

She stood for a moment, only a few steps past the coffee shop window and watched. They obviously knew each other. They greeted each other like they'd been friends forever. Perhaps more than friends with the way the pretty woman moved her hands over her leather pants. She smiled. Intimate relationships, whether sexual or not, were nice to have. She felt her own bittersweet regret.

She had avoided intimate relationships for awhile now. Love and friendship seemed like something she had only dreamed about, in another lifetime. But now, she felt so isolated, without a friend to confide in. But she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who shut out everyone before, except Nana.

She let out a soft sigh, almost regretting the choice to come out here. While she no longer felt so on edge, because the streets had pretty much cleared out, she still felt isolated. The whole point of this venture was for her to relate to someone else, to feel like she belonged somewhere. It was only now that she knew she didn't belong outside the walls of Caislin, or off it's grounds at least. Not the way she was...

The way the strange man with the top hat moved closer and the promise of a new dress...for a price, it made her shiver. Something about him shook her all the way down to the bone. She would take great care to avoid him in dark alleyways. She swallowed hard and watched the pretty woman and the scary strange man (as she now labeled him) saunter down the street, perhaps towards home.

Late afternoon seemed to have set on quickly, and was now fading into twilight. She let out another sigh and glanced around. How strange it was to be alone in town at this time of day. She could go home now...back to her dorm room, back to reading...but she would still be alone. At least here, she had fresh air. Tiredly she lay back against a wall of the coffee shop and slid down to sit, her knees pulled aganist her chest. The desire for a companion had never been so...strong before now.

A lone brow lifted delicately as the man who closed in on her seem to adjust his statement about the fitting. Curling her arm into his offered one as she turned on the balls of those booted feet so she now faced the same direction he did and thusly looked straight at the lone girl. "A pity indeed that you do not deem me worthy enough of a client to reopen your shoppe for a proper fitting...." She spoke in the sultry southern accent with the tinge of a teasing chiding tone.

Eyes drifted away from the girl to the Puppeteer as he began escorting her through the cobblestone street. "Feeding? Do I look hungry my dear Puppeteer?" The tip of her tongue slithered out of her mouth, licking around her lips, tracing them slowly before retreating and exposing the pointy fangs that had enlongated. Gaze cut sharply towards the female as they strolled past and her companion made the woman an offer. Dark eyes grew blacker than black as she stared at the girl and her reaction. The smile twitched onto that bowlike mouth with a hint of mischeviousness attached to it as the girl visibly swallowed hard.

Head turning to keep those ebon orbs upon the female, noting how she leaned back against the wall and slid down to sit upon the walkway. "Hmm...perhaps you should reconsider opening your shoppe this evening..." She spoke in a quieter tone so only her attendant could hear. "After all You..my dear Puppeteer could gain a new prospect and perhaps I could feed upon something a bit more...." Bruxa turned to look at the man with a playful flick of her brows. "Shall we say...sweeter?" A haunting girlish giggle fell from those velvet lips as she turned her head once more to look back at the girl that seemed so forlorn.

“Oh, and a house-call means what then?” he teased with a wink and nod as he guided the young girl down the street. The dim light of twilight was receding as if someone was drawing the drapes of the world shut. One by one, the stars appeared in the sky like regulars slinking into a bar for happy hour and none would be leaving until last call before dawn. If his Doll had not appeared with the shadows themselves, the Puppeteer would have headed to the local pub for a pint or two.

Despite the vampiress’s goading, the Puppeteer resisted the building desire to demonstrate his abilities there in the street by making her his mannequin while he fashioned her a new dress around her very frame. He enjoyed her sweet attempts at manipulating him, the challenge that came with defying those requests.

“Like you would turn down a meal from me, my Doll,” he chuckled to answer her question. “Would you rather hunt tonight? And miss out on enjoying my company, hm?” he countered, glancing down to Bruxa as they walked side by side. To him, the world had faded away, leaving only his dear doll that clutched to his arm with a touch as delicate as her beauty, and yet he knew how dangerous she could be as a child of the night.

In only a few steps, the Puppeteer had already put the lonesome girl out of his mind, his thoughts seemingly abandoning her just as everyone else had… save for the vampiress perched on his arm. When Bruxa spoke again, suggesting a sweeter treat for her snack, the Puppeteer slowed to a halt as one of his thin eyebrows arched towards the tilted brim of his top hat. “What a lovely idea, my precious Doll,” he answered, “what a lovely idea indeed.” A wicked grin split his lips as he met her gaze before looking to the stranded damsel. “Well, would you care to ask her back to my shop or shall I?”

Angelica's crystal clear eyes looked from her black shoes, up to the twilight sky. Just like that first night here, on the hill for the Astrology trip, she was in awe. It was simply beautiful out here. There were very few street lights, which added to the fall of darkness over the street.

And it was because of that quick fall into darkness that she might seem to glow. The darkness mixed with the white of her shirt, skin and hair might give her a ghostly look, to someone who was unfamiliar with the supernatural. But to those who were educated in the ways of what some would call the darker side of the world, she would just look like a pathetic little girl, sitting on the street.

Angelica didn't notice the couple was still in sight though, she barely noticed anything as she gazed into the night sky, mesmerized by it's beauty.

The tone in her voice turned sugary sweet. "Surely you know my dear Puppeteer that I cherish the lifeforce you so graciously offer..." Side glancing back to her companion with that childlike smile, almost innocent looking to a point. " But I fear my hunger may weaken you so you might be unable to spin your wonderful web of threads..." As the stroll halted, Bruxa turned to look back at the girl who sat on the walkway. "And why waste your energies when one could taste of several fruits..."

That longing gaze slid from the female back to her escort as he commended the idea she had set forth. "You ...my dear Puppeteer inspire such ideas." That southern accent was thick as she allured that the design the night might take was actually his own plan. Unfurling her arm from the crook of his own appendage, ebon hues darting back to the young woman as she took a step away from the Puppeteer and towards the girl. "It would be my pleasure to act as your consort and provide the invitation.."

The smile turned puckish and contorted those pixie like features into a contenance of mischeviousness. The movements of her small frame seemed blurred if only for a moment before she would be found standing in front of the woman, looking down upon her. "Excuse my intrusion miss..." She began in a childly manner that usually made most more comfortable with the sudden appearance. "My associate..." A light gesture of her hand attempted to draw the attention of the girl back to the Puppeteer as she waved towards the magical tailor.

"And I, of course..." The childlike tone thickened along with that accent. "Noted how you seemed alone this evening..." A brief glance around the area insured that no other being was on the streets with them before blackest eyes turned back to the seated female. "And we wondered if you might like to join us for a lovely eveing..." Bruxa lowered her form to a crouch...sliding down to the girls level, perfectly perched on those heels with that long duster of a coat billowing out behind her as she leaned towards the girl slightly.

"My companion is a reknowned designer with a shoppe that just opened here recently..." Her voice lowered slightly, the smile spreading across her face as if letting the woman in on some exciting news. "It's a chance of a lifetime to have a private meeting with such a man and perhaps even a fitting for an outfit made just for you..." She reached out towards the girl, offering her hand to help the young woman back to her feet. "Please oh please, won't you join me?" She seemed to almost beg as if a child pleading for more candy.

When the Puppeteer’s Doll disentangled herself from his arm and slipped away to invite the girl to an evening that could prove to be less than pleasurable for her and more than pleasurable for them, the ancient demon smiled. The young vampiress’s mischievousness delighted his devious soul, if it could be said that he even had one. Whatever her past was, of which he was still unsure, she had certainly already learned tricks that normally he would have taught an innocent: deception, manipulation, duplicity, all tools of a cunning mind, and they already seemed to be at her disposal. His smile broadened into a grin that rivaled the glow of the crescent moon—he would have to keep a sharp eye on her, lest she gain some advantage over him. He already knew that with her cleverness, she was constantly trying to pull his strings. When it pleased him, he allowed her the little tugs.

From a distance, the puppet master watched, ears trained to the soft voice of his doll as she sought to entice the other girl. He never would have thought that one of his dolls would willingly help him enlarge his collection, but yet, here was that very scene with Bruxa attempting to guide another student onto his stage so he could fasten strings around her wrists as tightly as a noose around the neck. The Puppeteer waited, allowing the vampiress time to persuade the lonesome woman, as he looked on, with his top hat planted askew atop his head and the bottom of his cane stabbing between the cobble stones as he clasped the bulb handle surmounting it in both hands, fingers interwoven like a pale wicker basket cradling a silver egg.

“This might end up being a night to remember,” he whispered to himself, the distance and general soft night noises of the town concealing his words from the seated girl while still allowing the sharper senses of the vampiress to hear them.

Angelica's attention snapped from the beauty of the sky to the closer beauty that stood before her. Or rather the one that appeared before her quite suddenly. Her crystal eyes took a moment to focus and she gasped.

Surely the woman hadn't frightened her on purpose. She listened to the invitation, and looked over to the scary man in the top hat, a look a terror contorting her otherwise childish features.

The observation of how painfully alone she was cut through her, like a butterknife. It cut and left jagged marks on her. Tears whelled in her eyes for a moment, making her crystal eyes shine, giving them a glassy look.

Company was company, right? Didn't matter if it was scary or bad company or not...but was she really willing to risk her life just so she wouldn't be alone? A dazed look back to the scary man in the top hat and then to the woman in front of her told her yes.

And she did make it sound fun. The owner of a new shop in the oldest part of town...one that had custom made clothes. Without a word, she stood, promising herself that if things took a turn for the worst, that she'd get out, no matter what she had to do. And she wouldn't take anything they offered her without proper payment. She still had just shy of $500...all that was left of Nana and her life. That would enough.

She gave the woman a silent nod. Surely she could get away if things got too bad.

Bruxa had to fight from a young age for each precious drop of lifesource she could steal. Early years had been full of errs and pitfalls until she had honed her skills. She knew how to provoke feelings in others perhaps unknown to themselves. Using those feelings to lull the victims into a state of security before she would manipulate the situation to keep her own life in a sated state. A sudden appearance with a bubbly childlike manner always worked, the subject left off kilter would often agree to anything within their confusion of what might be actually happening.

Keeping those coal black hues fixed upon the girl in front of her, the smile widening slightly as she heard the whispered words of the Puppeteer brushing at her ears. "This might end up being a night to remember" Watching how the girl seemed frightened, sad, forlorn as those crystal eyes darted between herself and her companion. Thinking for a moment she had failed in her attempt to entice the young woman to the Puppeteers shoppe. Speaking up as if she had read the girls mind...though she had actually just read the emotions swimming across her face. "You...my young lass will adore him, he is absolutely eloquent and stylish..."

Pleased that the girl seemed to accept with that silent nod. Whether she took the offered hand or not, Bruxa rose back to her full...albeit petite height as the lonely maiden stood. "This will be such a treat, a night to remember" She gushed as she side glanced to the Puppeteer as she used his own quote to the hapless lass, hoping he would join them quickly before their victim had a chance to change her mind. "I have yet to see the new Shoppe myself...sharing this little adventure with another female will be fun..." Bruxa almost seemed like a giddy child on christmas day as she attempted to make the event seem like a girls night out.

Eh, it was humid today, perhaps it was that or just the morning fog. Still, even Celestine wanted to get out of that Library. Things were boring enough without the visit from one of his favorite book readers. He had wondered where she was.

Taxis were useful at least. He never had loved driving unless he had no choice, and a feeling egged in on him that the old district would give him a run for his money. The old architecture was astounding, and the feeling that something lingered tingled his human senses. He stopped, letting his eyes close and took a deep breath. Oh the air was something special. It was magical.

Even here he wore his piece, never fully lulling himself into a state of relaxation even on an evening stroll. Such attention had kept him alive so far. Aside from that everyday accessory, he wore something different today. A pair of good tennis shoes, relaxing jeans, and a simple button-up shirt was a major difference from what he wore at school. The relaxed, different feel was the only relaxation and closest he became to losing himself in the stroll.

Celestine let fate make a choice today and spun until he could never discern a direction. Without opening his eyes, he stopped and opened his eyes. He was going to take the backroads today it seemed and proceeded to walk. "Maybe it won't be such a bad day afterall."

The old stores reminded him somewhat of Cardiff. The brick was like the older buildings. He had hoped to find hole-in-the-wall establishments. Maybe a nice place for coffee or tea. A nice place to enjoy a dessert or a sandwich. He had always found himself more pleased with smaller businesses than larger establishments that had expanded. He felt the newer branches lost something he felt spiritual that the mah and pah establishments had plenty of.

For all his attentiveness, Celestine's sights were anything but forward. He had used most of his attention to take notes of the establishments and what they sold, barely paying attention to anything in front. It was just so mesmerizing. This place's energy. The feel of it all normal people could feel. Sure, the sun wasn't entirely direct, but somehow that little hindsight managed to give even more depth and feel to the older area.

Celestine was so caught up in his surroundings he not only did not see Angelica sitting on the ground, he didn't see his approach to her nor to the young lady he bumped into as she appeared to be standing up. Suddenly thrown off, Celestine took a step back and readjusted his glasses which had slipped down to the bridge of his nose. "Ah. too sorry," he quickly apologised and held out his hand to assist if needed. He gave the woman a smile and then looked to his left and blinked, "Angelique?"

It was good to be feared again, realized the Puppeteer as the thrill of the girl’s fright spread through him like the warmth of a good brandy. He could taste its sweetness on his tongue, and it was a flavor he had scarcely enjoyed since his reawakening. With his powers severely diminished, he had yet to assert himself as the monster he used to be, the master manipulator that turned all around him into marionettes to make them dance for his amusement. Oh, memories of lifetimes passed, nearly forgotten, resurfaced as he watched his Doll speak a snare, and he delighted in the thoughts. One in particular distracted him from the scene in front of him as he waited for his Doll to tempt the girl.

Dusk had settled over the countryside, and the tavern filled with travelers and regulars like shadows creeping in from the night. There were: farmers, a permanent crust of dirt dried beneath their nails; merchants, their laughter filling the room like the jingling of coins in heavy purses; even a noble with a protective entourage, his air superiority hanging around him like the scent of a heady perfume; and a man dressed in black velvet and cloak, the envy of a starless night, and a cloth cap adorned a long white feather. Friends and strangers alike shared the warmth of the fire, the taste of a hot meal and local ale or wine, and stories. Seated upon a stool before the hearth, a bard plied his craft, exchanging entertaining words for sustenance and the promise of a bed for the night. Some listened, others did not, but within the tavern, people of all walks of life found camaraderie. Come the marrow, they may never speak their new friend’s name again, but for tonight, they were friends.

The tavern owner’s daughters served customers as the barmaids, providing for men’s most basic need of nourishment, while tempting their most primal desires. One girl in particular caught everyman’s eye as she darted between tables and eluded groping hands, her laughter the tinkling of bells, as she winked at her lusty pursuers. The sway of her hips dared them to try, but her mischievous smile promised that none would have her this night. She was the great equalizer, and in her presence, the man in black was no more than any other man in the tavern, her allure lowering him to the level of his lessers. While he sneered in disdain for being reduced to nothing more than the mortals around him, he still coveted her.

The noble, thinking his birthright included the girl,, was the first to lay his hands on her. The touch was brief, as was his pain. In moments, he was dead, a handless, headless corpse upon the floor as the crowd stared, too startled to scream. For a moment, it appeared droplets of his blood hung suspended in the air, dribbling towards the floor, and then the black thread glinted. Silence gave way to screams and yells, and in seconds, the cries were muffled as each mouth was stitched shut by similar black threads. Men clawed at the threads binding their lips, nails drawing blood, but none could break the binding.

The man in velvet stood, his movements slow and graceful, and walked towards the only person untouched by the black threads—the alluring barmaid. All around him, the terrified crowd pitched like a stormy sea and more threads, snaring limbs, drew them back to part the tides of convulsing bodies for him to pass. He approached the barmaid, her muscles frozen with terror even as her brain begged them to move, to flee, and with a flick of his wrist, a thousand black threads surrounded the pair, sweeping around them like a curtain of shadow, and once its ends connected, it drew in upon itself and vanished, taking them with it.

When reality returned to the Puppeteer, he blinked and saw a new arrival standing beside his Doll and the potential. How annoying, he thought. If he was his former self, he would not hesitate to rid himself of the intruder, but he was not the demon he once was, as loathe as he was to admit it, and he could not take such a bold risk. No, he would have to bide his time to see how much of a threat the young man was.

It was so clear in the darkness, the way the beautiful womans eyes lit up, like she'd just found her best friend. It did give Angelica a reassurance of safety, but she wasn't altogether sure it was real.

She couldn't be sure, but a glance back at the scary man in the top hat told her that it wasn't. That man was terrifying for a reason. She frowned. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

And then, like a light, Mr. Ravnos was there. Her crystal eyes lit up. But she was confused...it was nighttime, and while it wasn't particularly late, surely the libraian should be in bed.

"Mr. Ravnos..." she addressed him, trying not to see too familiar. Afterall, she was a student and he, a staff member. She didn't want to hint that her relationship could be anything more than that.

Her crystal eyes looked up to the woman at her side and then back to Mr. Ravnos...well, now she was in a pickle...

Those dark eyes glistened with a mischevious shimmer, like black diamonds. She just knew the girl was ready to be escorted back to the shoppe for the entertainment promised and even....more.

The silent celebration in her head was cut short. Body jolted suddenly, caught off guard as she was bumped into abruptly. A slight stagger before she caught her balance, teetering on those stiletto heeled boots. A glimmer of distain crossed those pixie like features as the intruder was on the verge of ruining her little scheme. A faint hiss escaped those bowlike lips as the beglassed man gave his half hearted apology before turning his attention to her victim.

Gaze settling on the male as the girl addressed him. Hands falling to perch upon the curve of those narrow hips, the long duster billowing behind her, keeping that petite frame hidden within its shadows.

A faint smile was mustered as the girl side glanced in her direction before directing her vision back to .... "Mister Ravonos....?" Bruxa poured on that rich southern accent, drawing his name out slowly as those ebon orbs shifted back to the girl. "You know this ....gentleman...?" The word dripped with sarcasm, still clearly annoyed with his appearance...though others might think it with the way he nearly knocked her over. Only then did she look over to the Puppeteer with a lofted brow before those charcoal black hues slid back to the newcomer.

Angelica shifted slightly, so that she was behind the woman at her side. But she was only partially behind the woman, she was still looking at Mr. Ravnos, curiousity peaking as to why he was out and about this late, when darkness engulfed everything.

Crystaline eyes shifted back to the woman when she spoke. Disdain dripped from her tone, and Angelica could tell that the woman was none to happy about having the picture perfect scene interupted. She went back and forth between the two and after a moment she nodded. "Uhm...yeah, he's the librian at school..." she motioned towards Caislin with a small hand. She gave the woman a soft smile.

Again, she omitted information. Like the way her heart thudded at the sight of him or the way she couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. But she worked quickly to keep herself from being very obvious. "Should we go?" she ask the woman at her side, a glance back at the man in the tophat expressing a hint of anxiety. She didn't want to be outside school, in the dark with Mr. Ravnos. It was too dangerous for them both. Rumors spread fast around here, of that she was sure.

Celestine took a step back to give the woman some space. He looked around. between the well-dressed man in the top hat, the woman near Angelique, and Angelique. Something in the back of his mind didn't sit well. He always listened to the back of his mind. He held his hands up, trying to be polite, "Hey I said I was sorry," after hearing the woman's hiss. That hiss reminded him something he encountered before.

Celestine tilted his head to the side, his glasses reflecting light from one of the lights as the woman repeated his name. "I'm sorry. Have we met?" He didn't miss the sarcasm, and took it to think that perhaps she was more upset with his mistake than he initially thought. Yet something about her seemed familiar, and while he had decent night vision, he couldn't tell fully.

Fortunately, Angelique continued the introductions. "That's right. I'm the librarian. Celestine, Johan Ravnos." He smiled anyway despite the initial scene. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He was very glad he decided to bee armed today. The back of his mind made sure to bug him enough.

"Should we go?" Seriously, Angelique, are you having a stupid day? It's passed sundown and you want to go somewhere with them? He felt off about the whole thing and gave the most geniuine smile he could muster. "Go? Oh, are we going off to a tea party? Delightful. Oh, perhaps we can enjoy such a party back in my office. I'd be more than happy to host it. There's tea, crumpets, and perhaps something more to your liking." His voice was calm and had no hesitation. It spoke of experience and confidence.

Instinct. It was in all creatures, from the smallest gnat trapped in the spider’s web to the spider responding to the trembling threads to still the struggling victim. Whether predator or prey, instinct pulsed within every life form as steadily as a heartbeat. Even a monster as ancient as the Puppeteer felt such primal stirrings as he stared at the scene before him, the helpless maiden caught in the snare created by his Doll. Of course, life wasn’t that easy. Just as the lazy hyena sometimes bullied the quick cheetah to steal its kill once the deed was done, the Puppeteer watched as a man arrived to interrupt. Annoyance flickered over the Puppeteer’s features like the shadows cast by a dancing candle flame: the twitch at the corner of his lips, almost drawing them into a sneer; the momentary lowering of the eyelids, almost narrowing into a glare. No, he thought, not a hyena come to claim the kill, but a blundering buffoon stumbling through the spider’s web, destroying intricate lacework and trap in one, and potentially rescuing the prey.

A soft noise of frustration fled the Puppeteer’s lips when he realized that it would be too difficult to untangle the buffoon, that the prey was as good as lost, and it’d be better to cut his losses instead of waste his evening. With a stern tone, the Puppeteer called out to his dear Doll. “Bruxa, leave her. She is undeserving. Let her enjoy her evening with this… librarian,” stated the Puppeteer, almost spitting the last word from his mouth as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. For the evening, one Doll would suffice as company. If he truly wanted the other, he would claim her at a later date. In truth, even when Bruxa offered the young girl as an easy mark, she had been of little interest.

Turning from the trio, expecting his loyal Doll to disengage herself from the pair and join him in departing, the Puppeteer discovered a seething yearning for the girl building. Before the man’s arrival, she had held no appeal, but now, the idea of taking her from this Mr. Ravnos whet an appetite the monster had not even known he had moments before. The hard soles of the Puppeteer’s shoes clacked quietly on the cobblestones as he strolled down the street, twirling the shaft of his cane in his right hand, the silver bulb and cap on either end glinting in the glow of the lanterns mounted atop the streetlights lining the avenue.

Crystaline eyes narrowed and a frown split Angelica's features. Mr. Ravnos...and his sarcasm. She nearly rolled her eyes. And assuming she didn't go with the pretty lady, what then? A walk home with Mr. Ravnos...that was potentially more dangerous than offering herself to a hungry wolf. Which is very close to what was happening here, at least, that's the way it felt right now.

She did have to stifle a giggle though. Thinking about the whole situation. Once the giggle was gone though, so did her brief smile vanish. This was bad. Go with Mr. Ravnos and let rumors spread abound about the student and the staff member or go with the pretty lady and the scary man in the top hat. Which was the lesser of two evils?

Her attention snapped back though, to the man in the top hat. She listened intently and fought the tears that whelled in her eyes. Undeserving? Undeserving of what? She'd never felt herself to be an especially worthy person, but he didn't have to call her out in front of a complete stranger and the man who caused her pulse to quicken at the site of him. It was mortifying.

But she kept her composure and pulled in a deep breath of night air. "Perhaps another time, Miss." she gave the woman a sweet smile and gave her a slight bow. "I do hope we see eachother again." she told her in a cheerful voice. But she wondered if she would see them again...they seemed more like ghosts now than anything.

"Mr. Ravnos, would you mind escourting me home?" She wanted to avoid being yelled at by him. She'd known that the situation was dangerous, that she could have been hurt or killed, but she felt that she'd had it under control and that she'd be able to handle herself. After all, she had managed to keep track of herself before. Why would now be different? But it was best to let him get the yelling out of the way. When she was stable enough to smile at him and not allow his desire to protect to rub her the wrong way.

Darkest eyes shifted back to the forlorn lass, noting how she seemed to grow more nervous around this gentleman rather than safe. As the girl scooted behind her, Bruxas' eyes drew back to the beglassed man. "Librarian? I see.." That faux smile, one of pure sweetness affixed on those smooth velvet lips as the tawdry clad female sputtered her next words. "Should we go?" A light nod of her head was given, happy to see that the schoolgirl still wished to leave with her and the Puppeteer before the librarian once more intruded.

Arms folded over her chest as she listened, that smile grew faint as she took her stance, feet slightly apart, chin lifting with a defiant look conveyed on her face. "We?...WE?!" Bruxa retorted quickly. "And who is this we if I may be so bold to ask, for I do not remember any invitations for such silly things as crumpets and tea being offered to you Mister Ravnos..." She leveled those ebony orbs on the man as a lone brow rose dramaticaly. "In fact...I do not recall inviting YOU..my dear Monsieur bibliothécaire anywhere..." That southern accent grew thicker, with the twang of that french cajun tone, which assured her annoyance.

Head snapped towards the Puppeteer as he gave his bidding. “Bruxa, leave her. She is undeserving. Let her enjoy her evening with this… librarian” She took two steps back from the couple and was on the brink of turning to follow the top hatted man when the girl spoke up once more. Did this meek little lass really just dismiss her...as if she ... Bruxa Vipir was some servant? A strange but evidently dangerous smile twitched onto that bowlike mouth, a light smirk as she addressed the young maiden. "Don't worry ma petite demoiselle, I am more than certain our paths shall cross again, in fact I promise it" A glance to the librarian once more before she turned with a dramatic flair leaving that long black leather duster flowing behind her to move towards the Puppeteer.

Celestine allowed a small grin to form on his face despite the becoming night. He showed no fear of it. In fact, his posture spoke of familiarity. Something about the woman's reponse pleased Celestine. Perhaps it was his instincts proving themselves right again. She wouldn't have been so upset unless he ruined something for her.

"My lady, I'm merely inviting all of you. I asked not wished to be invited. Merely a change, but alas if you must go, then you must go." He gave a faux performance of appearing distraught but then stopped as the man in the back spoke. Celestine watched him and knew something wasn't right. His fear was more for the man he didn't know much about versus the woman he knew a little more. The man was silent until he spoke. It spoke volumes.

In response to Bruxia's promise to meet again, Celestine pushed his glasses upon his nose and stood next to Angelique with that knowing smile. It was confident. It was dangerous. It matched her own. "We look forward to it." Celestine had asnwered quietly. His left hand grabbed ahold of Angelique's hand as his eyes focused ahead of the two. Fortunately, they were both safe this time.