Welcome to Gaia! ::

Holding her hand out, a gold flame danced in her palm before elongating and taking on a set shape. The flame gave way to a blackened bottle, corked and unlabled. Holding out her other hand, two goblets appeared in the same fashion. Elvish in design, yet tainted. THe artistry was not a celebration of light, but of darkness. The firekissed metal was blakened and inlaid with rubies. The elaborate designs that the elves were famed for, etched into the drinking vessles' dark surface.

Sitting up, her expression giving nothing away, she filled each goblet, setting the bottle aside and offered Henry one.

"Please, Drink m'lord."

She raised her glass to him in a salute of sorts before raising it to her lips, in show that the beverage had not been tampered with, as her glass had been poured from the same bottle.

She let the wine splash over her tongue, pouring down her throat in a sensual taste of fire and spices.

Her golden eyes rested on her guest.

"Fyre wine from the court I rule, a dimension not of Gaia. It tastes of what fire is."

Passion. Lust. Destruction. Heat. Rebirth. if these facets of flame could be given taste--

Continuing, the demoness lips quirked into a thoughtful smile.

"It is true, that I gather unto myself valuables of sorts. At one time, my collection as you call it.... was quite vast. I am looking to re-establish it... selectively."

Leaning back once more she added,

"What is it you want?

In return for your creation, my dear Henry."

Smiling pleasantly, she returned his compliment with one of her own.

"Credit where credit is due my lord. He is truly a remarkable creation and you, a gifted craftsman. I would not waste my time on anything less."

Her expression flickered, her features boasting of absolute confidence and assuredness.

"Bind him I can. Break him I shall enjoy. The way you constructed his persona is of much interest and enjoyment to me."

It was her turn to pause now, listening intently to the creator's predicament.

"What do you propose to maintain this balance? I could of course keep him at court and not on Eden at all... but that would be inconvenient. Where would you go, should I indulge myself and bring him here?

As to his well being, nobody would touch him except for myself. To touch him would be to offend me and I would withdraw my support.

Something dear Victor cannot afford."

Rising to her feet she made her way up the steps and out of the bath. Her ankle-length hair clinging to her body as water streamed in rivulets over pale and shadow traced flesh.

A slight swing in the hips as she padded forth, the soft smack of bare feet the only sound aside from the drip drip drip of beads of water falling away from her hair and body.

She made no attempt to conceal herself. Indeed modesty had no place with this woman, a creature who seeing her like this-- natural and comfortable that naturalness, it would seem a shame to cover her, letting her be anything other than what she is.

She held her hand out to him, smiling with what, could almost be mistaken as endearment.

"Before you go, Is there anything special you would like to share with me about your child my dear Henry?"

She bowed slightly, but didn't lower her head. Respect but no deference. She deferred to none.

Yet she was grateful for all that he imparted to her. It was a gracious gesture and he shared more than she had expected him.

She extended her other hand forward, cupping his cheek as she leaned down and pressed a heated kiss to his lips, her small pink tongue flicking out and running over his lower lip before she bit it, teasingly.

He had gained her favour in this visit.

"Thank you my friend," She whispered against his lips... "we will meet again. Until then, be well."

Argon sat comfortably seated at what he had been using as his 'war table'. Hand-drawn maps, combat strategies, and diagrams were scattered across the surface as the undead shade went over his plans again and again. Every step had to be flawless; no detail could be over looked, no weakness forgiven. He would exploit every advantage at his disposal.

Every moment on Eden since his rebirth Argon spent in his quarters, planning the inevitable assault on the Continent of Angara. He only ever really left to sedate his hunger on the souls of the living, slowly increasing the number of recruits in his abominable, undead army.

...and to further his own skills.

The Angarian Breeds are a unique set. Their draconic forms often share physical traits and abilities of many 'common' Dragons. Like all dragon types, they have very keen senses. However, the Angarians have explosively potent elemental abilities that far exceed the strength of most wyrms. Furthermore, they usually masquerade as human beings, where many of them master a variety of weapons and fighting styles. Their sheer power of adaptability was admirable.

Argon's was an enemy that couldn't be taken by sheer force alone. It would take superior tactics, knowledge, and skill. The time he spent planning his assault would be crucial to his success. Even if they proved to be futile, there would be no turning back; he was soul-bound to this affair in its entirety.

To the mission.

You have seen the place that withholds the full potential of the leylines... I am asking you to help me throw out the ancient order of the world, and help birth a world where we mortals are the architects of our destiny. And in exchange... you will have the power. The respect. The glory.

To Victor, his dark father.

And you will pay the price.

To Decruda, the man who owned him.

These people exist to keep you down. They are the shackles that bind you. They personify your weakness. Remove them, and you remove your weaknesses.

Argon laid his right arm out in front oh him, gazing over his corrupted body oncemore.

Moonblade was weak, and thus he failed... I don't have such weaknesses.

He flat hand became a determined, tightly clenched fist.

Soon you will have your key, Worldslayer... and my pact will be fulfilled.

After all, his real objective was to abolish the dragon's planetary seal. If this could be accomplished so easily, however, then Victor would have no need for the Death Knight. The alternative would be to annihilate the draconic population on Angara; if there was a massive genocide of the guardians, then there would be nothing to left to protect the seal.

Of course, that's an alternative that Argon would have no quarrel with, given his personal vendetta against the dragons... and him.

This will all be settled in one, fell swoop.

With that he would begin to eat the meal he had prepared for himself today. He may not need to eat food for nourishment, being an undead apparition, but it was one of the subtle enjoyments he got out of life (rather, unlife). With oh-so-proper etiquette, he sliced himself off a small piece of the freshly cooked meat. With his new body, he could taste every flavor, feel the heat of the meal, smell the intoxicating aroma. He wouldn't be exaggerating if he said that this was one of the greatest meals he ever had.

It didn't matter if he was truly cursed. Steak kicks a**.

The fate...of destruction

...is

the joy of

rebirth.




Long locks of black hair swept backwards even as water was sent flying in all directions. Waist deep in the center of what appeared to be a circular pool, Victor lifted his head and let out a breath.

It'd been a while since he could relax, and while showering was simple and fast-- there was no beating an old fashioned wash.

He shut his eyes and slid back down into the water, even as he thought back on recent events.

! At the sound of the door, he started, lifting his head up as his eyes opened.

"Who's...." He seemed to stop and settle back down upon realizing it was Ezekiel. Several moments seemed to pass, even as Ezekiel had already raised his head, and simply stood there near the doorway in silence.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Without even looking at him, Victor could feel the undecided feelings that were churning within Ezekiel.