burn it to the wick (barracuda!)

[scionofkushiel]

She's back

Comments

Heheheheheee! >.>

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora has felt this. Oh yes she has. She's not going to approach Melisande just yet - no, rather, she is lurking in the shadows, observing.

Ready to make a fierce point about who she isn't allowed to touch.

[scionofkushiel]

Melisande can feel the hair on the back of her neck trying to stand up, and stands, and turns, not liking that feeling at all. If there is one being she truly, genuinely fears, it would be that one. She searches the shadows, not making any move toward a weapon, keeping her gaze deliberately cool - though of course her thoughts betray her agitation, to one such as Pandora.

[pandora_antioch]

Oh, Pandora hates you, Melisande. And she intends to make you suffer as much as she can. The shadows are deceptively quiet - nothing moves.

For now.

[scionofkushiel]

...hm. Melisande sits, slowly, eyes warily watching the shadows with suspicion aplenty. She does not trust that silence, but she senses calling out would produce nothing.

She sips her wine, pretending that her hand is not trembling.

[pandora_antioch]

Nothing changes. Nothing moves. But the Spell Gift, well wielded, will produce interesting effects.

The whisper in her ear is not in a language she knows - it is in Sindarin, and if it were translated, it would mean, "Tonight, your fate is sealed."

But unless her typist decides otherwise, all that Melisande will hear will be elven gibberish, whispered uncomfortably close to her ear.

[scionofkushiel]

Typist does not decide otherwise. However, the sound itself is familiar.

She leaps to her feet, head swinging around again, even if she doesn't understand the words it still - "Play your games elsewhere," she says, sharply. "I have no more interest or patience for them."

[pandora_antioch]

Pandora uses Vampiric speed to land, suddenly, behind Melisande. "You've not been asked," she murmurs against her ear. "And it seems like it's to remain that way, tasty treat."

And poof, she's gone again - but not far.

[scionofkushiel]

---oh Elua.

She is glad that she maintains enough control not to wet herself, but it is a bit of a near thing. That voice, she knows, and caught enough of a glimpse to make her afraid.

She starts for the stairs, briskly.

[pandora_antioch]

And it gets worse. As Melisande starts up the stairs, a woman's laughter echoes, from behind, from ahead, from above, from below, and left, and right. Pandora is determined to drive her mad - to instill in Melisande a fear so great, she will never step out again.

Of course, that may not be possible at all.

[scionofkushiel]

Melisande whirls, puts her back against the wall, and forces her breathing to stay even.

Games. Games can do nothing to her. When it becomes physical she can push back, but until that moment...she must prove that this devil-witch has no power over her.

[pandora_antioch]

The problem is that Pandora is feeling like she's had her fill of your thoughts, Melisande. So instead of getting physical... she uses yet again the Spell Gift - but typist willing, this time, to tug the lady's hair quite violently.

Still no vampire in sight.

[scionofkushiel]

Melisande cries out, though more in surprise than pain. She's gained some endurance. However, she has learned that it is easier sometimes to relax, and gives more chances at fighting.

She allows herself be be jerked back by her hair, even if her neck aches.

[pandora_antioch]

Aaaand there we are, a moment later, unless her typist disagrees, there are marble-like cold arms around Melisande, seizing her from the back, and fangs grazing her neck.

"You will leave my people alone," Pandora whispers against the warm skin. "Or else, you will find that your last death was merciful, compared to the one I have in store for you."

[scionofkushiel]

Ohgod.

Melisande stiffens utterly, eyes snapping wide open, fighting not to scream. "I have touched no one," she forces herself to stay, "And certainly none of yours."

[pandora_antioch]

"And do you intend to keep it that way, or shall I remove all your claws one by one, to make good on your words, Lady Shahrizai?"

[scionofkushiel]

She tries not to tremble. Tries really hard. It's an admirable effort.

"I plan to keep it that way."

Until you're out of the way, at least. Unless I can coax one of them back. But I am patient.