she is more than beautiful


The streets lay abandoned. Not so much as a whisper prowled beneath the crescent moonlight.
The Grand Muser peered upwards into that luminous tide-turner... and he wept.
The burden of life had grown taxing, too taxing. He needed escape, needed solitude.

The young deity was spiralling... It had all grown too much.
Lumit had not yet matured into his power, could not yet filter his suddenly limitless perception. The zeitgeist was relentless... there was no reprieve from the constant stream of fractured imaginings that stormed his mind’s eye.
He would eventually prevail... The Steward always did. Yet the comforts of the future did nought to relieve the angst of now.
The noise had driven him erratic and undisciplined; already he was stumbling; declaring hasty war upon the God of Heavens should he approach Azrail again.

Oh Azrail... Dearest Azrail... His tears became bitter with as much as a thought.
They tried so hard to construct happiness from despair; they laboured to exhaustion to forge normality from surrealism.
and yet... it was tainted...
He could hear them all, those worms, could feel their petty, worthless lusts upon the collective subconscious. Oh how they yearned to ravage her flesh as if she was little more than a token of achievement, little more than fresh meat to be devoured. He could never, would never blame her; the tease was the cornerstone of her designs... It was the unattainable carrot that lured the mindless mules to her bidding. In truth, the Steward knew they would never know her warmth as he did... and yet, it did not quell his hate...

and is that so wrong?

Is it truly so unreasonable for a man to desire true love to be a sanctuary for two and two alone? Was it so selfish of him to want Azrail only for himself? Is the Steward destined to sit idle by while a horde of unworthy subordinate’s lick at Deception’s ankles, desperate to inspire her to adultery? No... that was the normality he envisioned...
Oh if she could hear them as he did... Behind the vain declarations of loyalty and veil of love the clergy of Artifice was rotten. They knew no true love or appreciation for the Mistress; only an objectifying hypnosis...

No, the only other to truly love Azrail had since departed...

The Sleepwarden fell to his knees, his slender hands pulling ruthlessly at his fringe.

WHY? Why could Lies and Dreams not be alone? How he prayed for a small forest-shrouded cottage. Isolated and absolute; hidden forever from the prying desires of those creatures...
How beautiful it would be... Just Azrail, Norah and he, untouched and unsmeared...

The King of Stailingstad threw back his brow and screamed; a reptilian shriek that shook Lunaar to its foundations and sprayed night-birds from their perches.


but you are too cowardly to know it

There's something I need you to see.
It’s just a picture of what the ignorant believe.

Even the nights were hot this late in the summer. The oceans surrounding the city appeared to have steam rolling off of each wave. Humidity dominated the city – her city. Veah felt the city was already molding itself into what she wanted. Knight held this façade of owning Lunaar but she’d seen no proof of this accusation. His presence was known but it certainly didn’t rule. That meant there was hope for her. If she continued to weave her web, under his radar, Lunaar would crumble below his feet and into her grasp. Ultimately that was not her final goal. What good was ruling a city, especially after taking it from a god, without someone to share the glory? No. She would not keep it all to herself. Veah was vain but rarely greedy. Azrail wanted her to do something for the faith, to prove herself still, and this was exactly what the redhead would do. The vampiress would destroy them all so that her lady would smile.

Prowling down the streets, her hips swung side to side. Her emerald orbs constantly bounced from place to place, needing to be aware of her surroundings. She could smell the blood all around her from the various blood harems that lined that particular street. The buildings were tall and glorious but people outside of the gates were gaunt and hopeless. Only the prestigious were invited inside to indulge in the most decadent of sins. They were also beacons of power. Veah planned on infiltrating them and therefore getting inside some of the Families that kept the city going while also dividing it through their own conflicts and wars. The redhead grinned with her fangs full and dilated eyes up at them. She wasn’t going inside, not yet. She wanted the leaders to want her, desire her to come in. Until she was personally invited she’d continue to play the game as the murderess with molten hair.

Continuing her walk, the vampire felt something shift in the air. Her pace quickened with curiosity. She reigned long enough to sense divinity. Turning the corner Neveah spotted Dreams. Instantly a foul taste coated her mouth as hate flashed through her gaze. Her body tightened, growing rigid with anger. Anyone else in Lunaar would’ve been fine, but him? If he had come to die, she’d happily grant him that wish and she’d do so with a smile to haunt him even in the ever after. She had no use for the little man. His godhood meant nothing to her. He would not kill her due to her connection with Azrail. Besides, the fear of death did not exist for Neveah anymore. She’d lived a thousand years it seemed and left her legacy behind. She’d never be forgotten. But him? She’d gladly erase his memory.

Each step closer to him was angrier than the last. Seeing him fall to his knees and let out a scream sent shivers of pure ecstasy down her spin. It didn’t matter that she had not caused it. Seeing him in pain, for whatever reason, was extremely exciting. Her step suddenly had a little bounce in it, a little pep even. “Tisk, tisk, what to we have here?” she teased with a voice soft and luxurious like satin. The vampire started to circle the man with a wicked grin. “Have you lost your way? You sure are far from home, aren’t you? Such a shame to see such a fine man in such a grim city. It’ll eat you alive if you’re not careful.” Veah paused and lurked forward, using her finger to tilt his chin up and whisper in his ear. “Tell me Lumit, do you want to be eaten alive?” Quickly she withdrew with giggles pouring from her throat. Only one man of Dreams would ever matter; all else would pale in comparison, constantly crumbling in his shadow of greatness. Lumit was nothing – and always would be.

I come to wreck and guide you.

Dreams did not sense her approach until she was upon him; for he was too distracted by his own dread to keep stock on the rippling tide of Lunaar’s citizens.

Her very aura carried such prickly warmth; her womanly stride did flush the muscles and energise the tendons. He could see why Azrail favoured her so; her burning presence, the heady spice of stagnating divinity that clung in such a tempting fragrance, indeed she was perfectly delicious.

The Steward made no effort to mask his turmoil, his tears spilt freely despite her snide theatrics.
His pride was a fickle beast; unquenchable before the judgement of those he deemed reputable and yet entirely negotiable when confronted by the meaningless. For what did the Sleepwarden have to prove to traitors?

“It is that same grimness that makes it so alluring.” He grinned ironically through the wetness of his features.
“Tis a city built upon a foundation of selfishness; one of the few places a man can wallow in the comforting knowledge that not a single nearby person cares for his well being, a quant little cacoon where I may grieve and self-loathe uninterrupted by good-samaritans. It is beautiful in its way.”
Lumit had neither the energy nor will to rally against her spite.

She hated him as all those mesmerized by Deception did yet he could not hate her in the same way he did all those mesmerized by Deception.
For Veah was the only other... She was beyond the mindless panting of Artifice; deeper then the gratuitous hunger of the clergymen. Lumit sensed within her something comparable to himself, twas both different and unique but comparable none the less.

The redhead truly loved Azrail, not in the same way that Lumit did but in her own way. Was that not after all, all he asked of Artifice’s cockroaches? In truth the Sleepwarden considered her exile a tremendous loss...

Unquestionably loyal to the Queen though he was it did not alter the terrible nymphomaniac Lies had forged of him; the Steward would be practising Azrail’s craft if he were to say the delicate touch of such a captivating woman’s finger upon his chin did not send an indescribable flourish of dance across his spine, would be a pretender if he claimed her hot breath against his ear did not prod at the beast inside him.
His own fangs surfaced to match hers with a rasp of lizard-like laughter.
“Tis the thing I yearn for most.” He responded politely.
“To defile and be defiled in return; there is no greater joy to be had, don’t you agree?”
The Sleepwarden decided to challenge her veiled threat, to probe at the fog, misguidance and jealousy that inspired her to eat him. Was it always the way of the fallen to consider themselves powerful long beyond their tenure?
Casting his left arm out at his side, Dreams forced his blood to pool at his wrist.
“But perhaps, as an ambassador of grim Lunaar, you can show me-“
Lumit winced in ecstasy as the vein succumbed to the flooding pressure, bursting in a glorious cascade of divine-crimson. The explosion of blood splattered terrifically in all directions for a sheer moment before relenting into a dribbling stream that pooled against the footpath. A great splash of red had landed upon his cheek and now trickled down his neck, a few stray droplets had found refuge upon her cheek.
“I do so love the thrill of pain and I find myself so intrigued to know if there is more than bluff to the dangers of grim Lunaar. “ Every word oozed his cordial charm except 'grim'. That she thought the custodian of all nightmares would find terror or grimness within any mortal city was mock-worthy; his barbing, sarcastic tone was glad to oblige.
“So come now, exile. If you’ve a lesson to teach me, don’t deviate.” His grin grew broad and devilish.
“Perhaps you will find that familiarity you long for within me?” the temperament of his words never wavered from the upmost respect, he chuckled playfully.
“I have never tasted myself but who knows? I have certainly indulged in her enough that I would not be surprised if I to tasted of Deceit’s golden, silkiness. You must miss it so...”
Those key, earth shattering words. The chance meeting between the ex-High Priest and the Steward was always to turn to this sooner rather than later.

His ambers locked upon her piercing emeralds as his head cocked to the right. He finally rose from his knees, making slow, steady steps towards the red haired femme. His tears had mysteriously halted, his movements suddenly steeled with his signiture love of the contest rather then lurched with depression.
“What of it, traitor? Do you lust for that faint sniff of her? Will that glimmer of hope inspire you to devour me? Will dear Neveah eat me alive on Lunaar’s behalf?”

Ever so close to the vampress now, Lumit held his gushing hand before her, the waterfall of life-force nought more than an inch from her delicate nose and full lips.

[[sorry for the length, my muse woke up.]]

Without the mask, where will you hide?
Can't find yourself lost in your lie.

Strictly comparing him to former dreams proved his incompetence. All after Tobias had proved to be a joke. None were worthy of the title. Perhaps the World Tree was slipping or chosing those that seemed to have a new vision but ultimately failed in bringing it to life. Tobias Krugle had been a visionary. He had led a war to protect his kind even before rising and his fall had done nothing but shift his followers back to being led by a mortal man. Any that assumed he was weak were wrong. Cristophe had pretended to be new Lord of Dreams with his obnoxious, bombastic ways. However, he was nothing and his short lived reign proved it. What would the future generations remember him for? Nothing. He was a disgrace, to all the divine truly. Veah could not think of lazier man who did such little with the endless power and opportunity he had been given. The redhead did not remember the former Dreams before her mate to be completely honest. She had not cared much about the gods or guardians until she had risen into power and even then it was simply because of the Conclave politics. Yet Lumit? He was but a boy, and a misguided weak one at that. Most gods had grown into their powers but there was no evidence he’d ever even left the Mosque’s religion.

Staring down at the god made the vampire feel almighty and powerful. She could taste his essence spiraling out of control and drown in his pain. It thrilled her in a way that she’d all but forgotten. As a goddess, Veah could live through another’s memories due to their emotional ties. Anything that was love related suddenly she could see through their own eyes which included their pain. At the time she viewed it as a curse. Seeing intimate things that should only be sensed by the two individuals it pertained to seemed extremely violating. However, now that the femme had accepted the darkness inside and enjoyed basking in chaos, especially when it was emotionally destructive, she felt she should’ve taken advantage of that power. As a mortal woman, the murderess could only sense and feel the emotions. They all had a specific scent that most elder vampires could taste anyway. However the lack of visions that once accompanied them intrigued her, sparking her curiosity. With Lumit, Neveah could not be certain what was inspiring his torture but she would enjoy it with hopes of making it worse.

It only seemed fitting to watch Azrail’s lover fall apart in the same city that Veah had done the same just before the two vampires had formed their bond. Ironic, wasn’t it? Perhaps Deceit should’ve warned her little pet not to tread in the city she knew Veah resided if only based off of their past. “And already you are wrong,” she responded with a deadpan stare as if his ignorance alone had diminished her fire. Of course, it had not. “You see, my sweet, Lunaar was built on the concept of deliverance for those that society have shunned. That is not selfishness; it is indeed the desire to have a mecca for those that have nowhere else to go. That is also why no one would particularly care enough to disturb a man wallowing in his own misery – most cannot about your pathetic misery enough to allow it to interfere with their own lives.” Veah grinned now with her daring green orbs peering into his own arduous gaze. “But, yes, she is magnificent.”

The lady grinned at the deity, imagining how it would feel to completely destroy him. Yet, she had no interest in his sex, surprisingly enough. Veah wanted to feel his life force leave his body in her grasp. She could almost taste death upon his skin. The fact he was a god proved to make this feat impossible for the time being but it was a entrancing fantasy. “Then you’ve come to the wrong place because, no, I don’t” she responded. “Not when the other being is not worthy of such power. Defiling, ruining, corrupting even, is easy but to let another do anything even comparable in return? Takes a special beast to rule a natural dominant.” Reslyn was the only being that would ever be able to truly violate and disgrace Veah. They had created and destroyed one of the most volatile relationships Daeluin had ever seen. Tobias and Neveah generally were more intimate than passionate. Before the roles were reversed, Veah was the subject of Azrail’s obsession and had never given into the advances made. The redhead truly believed the only reason her vampiric nature would submit to her majesty was due to the divinity in Azrail’s veins.

Her gaze quickly shot down to his wrist. Her head cocked to the side with confusion. Veah crossed her arms below her chest and licked her lips. The moment it burst and the blood came forward her body tensed up. Her pupils dilated while her fangs ached. It wasn’t fair; truly, she didn’t want any of it. The redhead felt her nails dig into her palm, making tiny, bloody crescent moons. “Did you really think you could waltz in and get whatever you wanted, you spoiled little boy?” she asked with a slight snarl. Her anger towards his crude rudeness and continual insults outranked her hunger. When he moved towards her and presented his wrist daringly close to her pout, her digits delicately ran across his forearm. Her shoulders slightly slumped when her nose flared, vaguely smelling Azrail. Veah allowed the desire to come through her gaze, lowering his wound closer. Suddenly, her hand darted forward and covered his wrist with bone crushing pressure. Veah healed the spot within that moment, a skill most vampires felt crucial to know how to do. Then she wiped the blood upon his own shirt before using the back of her other palm to clean her face. Everything about him made her feel filthy and repulsed. He was disgusting so the stains would suit him well.

The lady backed away from him and flipped back the hair that was covering Azrail’s claim. “I do not want or need the taint of your filth,” she hissed back. Her tone had lost it’s velvety smoothness and was replaced with malice. “If I wanted to taste her, I could. Tell me, Dreams, how many times have you had to watch her dream of me? Does it bother you to see her fantasies with another? She’s told me of these, of course.” Veah generally regained her firm posture, proud of her control and strength. Lumit had proven every accusation she’d ever made about him being lower than her. His immaturity and underestimation of her could have been blamed on age and experience but she felt no need to make excuses for the young man. As a god, and one that had bedded her lady, he should’ve known better. Yet, the brat lacked class. “I never said it would be me to taste your flesh. The voices in your head are what will destroy you. The constant insecurities shall dominate your thoughts the longer you stay. And why is this? Because you’re weak and you understand nothing. You’re wasting my time, Lumit, what do you want?”

You’re everybody’s fool.