A young man of swarthy complexion and hair cropped neatly near his scalp stands before you with an indifferent expression. He is wearing a light grey 3-piece suit and a pair of black Forzieri Italian leather shoes. By his attire, style, and color it is obvious this young man belonged to Medoro. In his hand is a white box tied with a blood red ribbon which he holds before him patiently waiting for you to accept his master's gift. "Sir Lachance would like to offer his warm wishes to you and hopes that you will take pleasure in his gifts to you." the man says with the hint of a sultry Afroasiatic accent. After you accept the box the young man gives a small elegant bow before returning the deep blue Rolls Royce parked nearby.
Nora accepts the box graciously and smiles to the young man. "Thank you, please send my thanks to Sir Lachance and assure him his gift is very much apprciated. Also tell him I look forward to our next meeting." He reaches up to smooth his styled hair.
Upon opening the box inside you find lying on top of the red tissue paper a white card embosed in gold with your name scrolled elegantly across it's surface. Upon opening the note the same handwriting reads, "The pleasure of your company
is requested at the embrace of Macha Lucilacu and Nora Emerson Saturday, the fifth of March two thousand and eleven
at half past 10 in the evening." Upon moving aside the tissue you find yourself gazing at a beautiful asymetrical white masquerade mask overlaid with intricate golden lace. It's right side curled up and accented by pristine white swan feathers. Beneath the mask is a simple guazy white material fashioned much like a toga.
Nora: The garment wraps about your waist leaving your upper torso bare and is held in place by a thick solid gold belt inlaid with lapiz luzuli. It's hem reaches no lower than your knees leaving you calves and feet bare. Beneath the thin linen you find a simple rose pin made of tiny diamonds.
Macha: This Greek style toga is made of the finest linen, and if not for the artfully placed folds in the material not much would be left to the imagination. The length of the material falls to the floor, but is open on both sides and only held in place against your body by this golden chains about your hips and under the breast. The front cuts a deep v stopping just below the navel. Beneath the thin linen you find a simple rose pin made of tiny diamonds. **
Stepping into the room is the nearly unrecognizable figure of Macha, though only the highlights of silver and gold in her straight, choppily cut hair and the curves of her body reveal her familiarity. Her skin offers a slight shimmer from the powder decorating it, and the visible portion of skin about her wide, extremely azure eyes are painted a dull gold. Apart from the small, simple diamond rose pin that clings the flimsy fabric of her toga together at her navel, she's utterly undecorated except for the thin silver ring and bright red tearose that rests on her left ring finger. There's a brief moment as she enters, and her eyes take in the surroundings, that her movements would indicate that she's hesitant but generally comfortable in this place, though she goes no further into the room for the time.
The sleek black limo pulls up to the front of the house, the drive jumping out to open the door for the young man. A bare foot slides out and settles gracefully on ground. A slender man pulls himself out from the back of the limo. The pale flesh of his bare torso catching hold of the dim light of the evening. The gauzy material of the kilt like covering on his lower half sways with the movemnt exposing more of his well toned flesh. Half of his well crafted features are obscured by an alabaster mask that rests on his face, his choppy chin leght hair standing out in stark contrast to it. His deep blue eyes surrounded by heavy black make-up scan across the familiar home. He walks towards the entrance of the home, only pausing breifly at seeing the form of Macha before him. This evening hidden behind the mask the overly shy man walks with a great deal of confidence. He walks behind her, his bare feet making very little noise as he approaches. Standing behind the woman he speaks, even his soft voice holding more confidence than normal "My love."
With Nora's approach, Macha's frame tenses slightly, betraying what little nerves have risen during preparation for the evening. As she turns around to face him, there's a moment that her eyes leave his face to trail over his figure, and then a much longer series of seconds as she finally returns her gaze to his face. "Nora…" she almost whispers, the light surprise in her eyes apparent before even the cover of the mask can't conceal the extremely warm smile that broaches her lips from the slight slant of her eyes. "You look remarkable…" She raises one hand to his cheek, though her fingers don't quite touch the mask, though she makes the same gentle slide as usual against the air instead.
Norasmiles down at her, his every movement strikingly more confident than his usual nature. The maskn working its subtle magic over him boosting his self confidence. He leans in pressing his lips to her but careful not to touch her any more than this. The kiss is chaste but filled with the long passion, and lingers for a few seconds before he pulls away from her. "You look every bit as stunning if not more. His eyes surrounded by an ocean of black trailing down her, openly lingering on her curves, then back to her face. "I believe we are wanted within, shall we?" Nora asks, offering his arm.
You both are greeted at the door by the same swarthy man from earlier. In his present raiment he looked to be of Egyptian decent. As in the theme of the evening he is similarly attired as Nora but instead of the thin white material he wears a vivid yellow that complimented the smooth chocolate brown of his sculpted form. His mask a pale yellow adorned with topaz and long yellow and white feathers that fan around the mask similar to that of an aztec ritual mask. The young man bows deeply at the waist with a hand pressed against his heart, "Please, if you would follow me," He says in that same sultry voice. As you follow him down the corridors of Medoro's extravagent mansion that looked to be palace transplanted from Venice itself you can see small gatherings of LA's most influential Toreador in the lavish rooms.
Macha remains rather unmoving with the press of Nora's lips, though there's a slight purr that escapes her lips as he draws back away, and her eyes remain closed for a long moment until he speaks again. Interupted from her thoughts by their escort, she rests her forearm along the back of Nora's, letting her palm against the back of his hand before her fingers lace between his. As they are lead deeper into the mansion, her steps remain slow and delicate, and her eyes trace the floor at her feet without glancing to the surrounding crowd, despite the heavy flush that rushes up her chest and neck, into her cheeks beyond the mask.
Nora smiles looking down to the arm around his. His steps keep pace with Macha's, however unlike her his eyes stay glued to her form letting his natural grace carry him forward. A small confident smile resting upon his lips. He even seems to be taller as he walks down the corridor, his confidence straighten his posture.
As you enter the extravagant suite an impression of sensual opulence saturates your senses. From strategic locations tall white candles burn brightly casting an ambient glow throughout the room choreographing the dancing shadows in a lavish waltz upon the swaying silken curtains that line the magestic windows from floor to ceiling. Up on the second floor near the edge of the curved balcony you can see nude musicians, of men and women, in silver and black eyeless venetian carnival masks playing a beautiful rendition of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Upon the floor a medley of delicate rose petals of perfect white and the deepest red lay as if in gentle repose. As you take in your surrounding you find you are far from alone tonight. Lounging about the room are kindred of both genders also wearing elaborate venetian masks, but eyesight unhampered as they gaze at you with cool indifference. They are each garbed in luxuriant Roman style togas in a variety of vibrant colors to compliment the masks obscuring their faces. The silken material artfully draped over their bodies giving you the sense of living greek sculptures. About them are mortal men and women of beauty almost comparable to Nora's. Each garbed in simple red slips of a sheer material gathered at one shoulder and held together by a single golden clasp. Exposed full breasts and the line of sculpted long legs easily seen for the viewing pleasure of their audience. Medoro himself is garbed in a fashion unlike anyone in the room. He wore vestments of jacquard silk in shades of white and embroidered gold that adorned his slender frame from head to toe. He greets you upon entering the room with outstretched hands and a chaste kiss to each cheek. He then leads you further into the room a smile playing on his naked lips. "@DTonight is a momentous occassion.@n" He explains as he slowly leads you in to the center of the allowing your eyes to to wander, "It is not often that two lovers, such as yourselves, get embraced on the same night together. It is something that calls for something… special, something that may only last of a second, but lives on in your memory forever." As he speaks he sweeps his arms out in a dramatic gesture.
Slipping her arm from Nora's grasp to return the greeting from their host, Macha still remains rather solumn in the company, her eyes finally wandering as they are turned to face the crowd. With the introduction of his words, she reaches out to the side slightly to take ahold of Nora's hand once more, lacing her fingers demurely between his. If expected to do it or not, the slender brunette dips her weight in a propper curtsey, clearly not concerned with the revealing attire chosen for her, or how the material shifts against her curves, or how her hair falls down to shade black against the beautiful feathers and porcelain that covers her face.
Nora eyes do not leave Macha's form untill they are greated by Medoro. Nora happily returns the greeting bestowed upon him. His eyes now resting upon their host. His pale flesh is unmarred by the usual flush that would have found it in such a setting. His arm holds onto Machas steadly, only releasing it when she is greeted and quickly finding it again soon after. At Macha' curtsey he deeps into a similar bow.
Medoro wastes little time in begining the ceremony as he leads the ebon haired woman over to the bed, and the both of you can feel the excited tension within the audience as they anticipate what is about to transpire. The music changes to fill the room with Mozart's 'Lacrimosa' setting the mood as if on some invisible cue. Upon looking up in Medoro's tawny brown eyes the elder smiles at you, Macha, and you see his fangs extended long and sharp behind his painted lips. Despite the violence promised in that smile he handles you gently as he slips his slender yet firm hands around your waist to rest upon your back as he leans you back into the bed. "@DIf there be nothing new, but that which is hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, which, labouring for invention, bear amiss the second burden of a former child. O, that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, since mind at first in character was done! That I might see what the old world could say to this composed wonder of your frame; whether we are mended, or whe'er better they, or whether revolution be the same. O, sure I am, the wits of former days to subjects worse have given admiring praise.@n" He whispers tenderly in your ear as one hand slides up your back to cup the back of your head. As your head rests on one of the plush pillows his lean body presses into yours his cool flesh abating the heat of your own.
As Medoro steps toward her, Macha allows her fingers to slip from Nora's grasp only as her weight is shifted underneath the Toreador's grasp. For the moment, at least, her attentions on the room seem to fade and draw purchase on only Medoro himself, and her hands slip from his chest to draw her fingers delicately across his skin to the back of his neck. His words are obviously pleasing, as a smile brushes onto her lips, and she spreads her legs so that her inner thighs can rest against his hips and allow him a further press against her figure with the draw of the material of her dress back away to expose the full length of her legs, even going so far as to wrap one leg so that her calf brushes up the back of his thigh. By the time the whispering as ceased, she allows her head to fall back against the cradle of his hand, and her breathing is studdered and rapid, eyes staying firmly focused on his.
As macha is taken away from his grip, Nora stands firm. The flush finds his pale flesh as Medoro takes Macha into his arms. His body stiffens but all emotion is kept off his features. He watches the fangs sink into his lovers neck and he swallows hard. As the look of ecstacy over takes her features and her wrapping her form around Medoro the slender young man cringes very slightly.
The seductive Frenchman gently nuzzles your neck as he turns your head to the side with the hand still cupping the back of your crown entwining his fingers through your silken tresses while his other hand strokes your bare side comfortingly. He takes his time making sure you are reclining comfortably and your anticipation is heightened to a delicious level. He dots small tender kisses along the line of your elongated neck sending exquisite shivers down your spine while he presses his hips into you pinning you deep into the mattress. Just as you feel like you cannot take the teasing anymore he grips your head holding it in place as you feel the initial painful prick of his fangs penetrate your skin and thrust into your jugular. The agony never having a chance to fully blossom is quickly forgotten as the rapturous fire of the kiss swells through your veins and inflames every fiber of your being. You find yourself floating on this wonderous feeling for the second time in your existance, and the familiar sense of your life fading from your limbs comes upon you like an old lover. Just as you feel the light fade from your eyes heaven falls upon your lips. Within moments your eyes snap open and find yourself sucking on the inside of Medoro's wrist where his flesh proved softest. At your side is one of the masked vampires, a tall lilth woman in an emerald green tunic whose features were concealed behind a wild display of peacock feathers. She gentle takes your hands which clutched desperately at Medoro's arm trying to hold him to your hungry mouth. You hear her speak and see her lips move although your ravaged mind could not comprehend. Even so you can feel the command as she pulls you away and guides you over to a cluster of the scantily clad mortals who offer themselves up to you willingly.
Macha's breathing quickens dramaticly with the press of Medoro's hips into hers, and as soon as his fangs press into her throat she arches her back against him and gives a rushed whimper as her eyes close and her head jerks back from the euphoria of the kiss. Her whole body tightens and her fingertips press against his skin, though she goes still and quiet after a moment as the life is quite literally pulled from her body. Even as her eyes open again, it's in a dramatic rush of confusion and she gasps one needless breath before the lust rises and her body listlessly escorted toward the assembled group of mortals to the side of the room. The change is immediate, and her chest stills completely, weight dropping to her knees gracefully before one hand comes to the cheek of the closest man, drawing him forward rather blindly, and her lips are hidden against the flesh of his throat before her fangs extend and press less than carefully into the side of his neck.
Nora visibly shakes as Medoro places a few kisses along her neck, and at the sound of his lovers whimpers a single tear escapes his eye, and as it trails along the blackened flesh it pulls some of the make-up with it and then leaving a single darkened trail down the alabaster mask and onto his pale cheek. However no other movments come from the man, even as Macha is lead over to the group of willing donors.
Calmly Medoro wipes the blood at his wrist with a white embroidered handkerchief seemingly unconcerned about the blood stains. Within seconds the wound at his wrist that he had used his own teeth to create was gone as if never been. Once again his skin prestine and smooth. A mortal woman came upon his side unclapsing her gown letting the top fall to her waist as she offered herself up to the elder. With seeming indifference he takes the female in his arms and feeds replenishing the blood he lost to the newly rebirthed Macha. With complete control developed from centuries of practice he parts from the shivering girl who falls to her knees still impassioned from Medoro's Kiss as he makes his way over to you, Nora. "We prescribe various specific rites for the attainment of pleasure and power to those who are full of desires, and hold the attainment of heaven as the highest goal of life. The rebirth is their fruit of action.” He speaks in a melodious tone and you feel your knees go weak. Your mind begged wantonly for his touch… for his Kiss. With a crooked finger he beckons you to him and you feel yourself wanting desperately to go to him.
Macha emits another, more flesh-dulled whimper as her senses start to return with the taste of vitae against her lips, and as she draws back she does so with a slight gasp as the more human blush starts to slip back against her skin and her chest rises and falls even though a bit irratic for now. Despite what's happening in the room, Macha takes her time and attention with the selected man, her hand still cupping his cheek, and runs her tongue against the length of his throat in a practiced gesture to close the delicate fang marks caused moments before.
Nora looks into his eyes following his crooked finger toward him. His slender form moving gracefuly as he approaches. He reaches out clutching for the man before him, obviously longing to touch him. The single dark line across his face seeming to be the only one of its kind.
As you stand before the shorter man you somehow still feel smaller in his presence. With a light touch he places a hand on your shoulder and presses you down to kneel before him. A warm smile tickled the corners of his lips as he gently, with the pad of his thumb, traces the line of the tear wiping away the black smudge it left behind before trailing along your jaw to tilt your head back exposing the naked flesh of your neck. He offers no words of comfort as none are needed while he holds you in his sway. Slowly he bends over you and without warning sinks sharp slender fangs into your jugular. Far from the first time the intimately known sensation fills your limbs and fills them with the sweetest of aphrodisiacs. What is the first is the sensation of life leaving your limbs, but what is worse for you is the scream of your avatar in the back of your subconscious. Already caught in Medoro's web you are unable to struggle listening to her dying screams fading into nothingness and is no more. As lacuna claims you in its black grasp thinking you would follow Dawn into oblivion the nectar of the god's burns down your throat returning life to your limbs like you never felt before. Like a fire born of Hade's a thirst takes you on a savage ride. The first thread of reason returns and you find yourself bent over the same wrist your lover fed from. You nursed at his wrist as a newborn would at his mother's breast unable to pull yourself away of yur own free will, but like Macha another was there to assist you. The young Egyptian man stood at your side as his words weaved their spell on you pulling you away from the elder. Even though sentient thought escaped you what was asked of you was clear as you feel the soft press of naked mortal flesh against you.
Even upon sealing the wound at the throat of the man that she's chosen, Macha reopens her eyes once more before turning to one side, still on her knees, and slipping her fingers from his cheek to her lap. She spends the moment licking her lips, still looking slightly disoriented, her attention is draw to Nora as he's lead toward the assembled offering of mortals, and despite her usual control, the flush that had risen in her skin seems to slip away and her breathing stills, and her gaze fixes on him with clear lust.
Even as he presses his lips to the warm naked flesh, Tears of another color begin to roll from the corner of each of his eyes. The screams of his dying avatar still echoing in his mind. His fangs extend and inter the flesh of the mortal. The tears stop as the beastual urges drive him to instictualy administer the kiss and drink from the vessel.
Both of you fully sated are removed from the offered vessels and led back to the bed. Medoro stands nearby, "The man who has seen the rising moon break out of the clouds at midnight has been present like an archangel at the creation of light and of the world. And, so now my children enjoy each others company in yur new flesh." He says with a forward tilt of his head before leading the audience out leaving the lovers alone.