Private Tales A Small Matter of Iron

[Iren Brightmane]

He was starting to get used to being here. Sure, Raul had to be locked into the dungeon every moon, but that made simple sense. A werewolf couldn't be trusted among the living. They were mad as a dog and got into everything. Unlike vampires who were refinement themselves as long as they were properly fed... which Iren was.

It was the first time in a long time actually that he was being taken care of in this way.

No need to ration his meals, no need to watch himself. No, any servant was his to feed off of and they all knew it. Elide had been clear about it. It meant that Iren didn't accidentally kill anyone either. He was overstuffed with blood and it showed. His skin lacked the usual pale and dead quality. His eyes were no longer bloody red and hungry.

In fact, Iren looked alive.

He was marveling about that just as he rounded the corner and walked straight into one of his old colleagues slash travelling companions Iskra. There were so many heartbeats here, hers was just missed by him, but thankfully his reflexes still meant he didn't bump overly into her.

"Oh, it is you." Iren murmured absently as his eyes went to the shackles. "Still doing that, I see. Is there no smith that can solve that irritant for you?"

 

[Iskra]

Despite her line of work in espionage, without her magic coursing through her she was a shell of a different woman. Iskra became irritated, skittish almost, and that came to show as a sudden appearance of an old crew mate seemingly materialised before her. She was quick to recover, but her heart beat would give away the scare he had given her.

"Iren." His name used in greeting was said through gritted teeth. Iskra softened her expression, only marginally so, and pulled the sleeves of her cloak over the unmistakable glint of cuffs that halted her magic. "There are a great many that are smiths and plenty more that claim to be smiths, but they all answer to the Wardens."

If she were in Liadain or Epressa, she could have access to her money in a great number of banks to pay for such a small job, but there was no money to her name here in Cerak. Here, she was back to where her life started; Iskra of the Badlands.

Iren Brightmane

 

[Iren Brightmane]

The way she said his name it could have been a curse or the way you described a dog that had just wet the bed. Iren couldn't really blame her.

He was prickly too when he didn't have any blood circulating his body. It must be much the same for a mage who suddenly found herself unable to do any magic.

"I would remove it from you if I could. No predator ought to have their claws removed." Said with a hint of sympathy. "But I suspect the magic imbued in them would prevent any such meddling."

Not even the strength of a fully-fed vampire could fix this.

"Come. I found a good spot at the wall away from the elements. We can catch up."

A questioning glance her way.

"Unless you have more important things on your mind."

Iskra

 

[Iskra]

His last words seemed to have clued onto the very trail of thought she had been on before running into him, that she was laying low and assessing the best course in freeing herself. The cuffs and this backwater hellhole.

"Please, lead the way." She did not put up a fight against him when he had only treated her fairly in the times they had been around one another. If she had her magic at the time that storm rolled through, she would have saved Iren first.

Iskra followed him, silently moving about and her golden green eyes piercing into any eyes that looked her way. "Makes one wonder how the hell a Molthal half-prince got his hands on such complex magic to imbue into these irons." Brute strength did nothing to them, nor did forceful attempts at cutting into them proved much progress. They simply burned her skin, with the last attempt searing her so badly a Warden stopped to watch her weep over the pain before a bystander helped her up and poured an ointment beneath the cuffs.

"Seen Roul? Nicomo? The mud guy?" Deflecting was easy, but her genuine curiosity was behind the line of questions. She had detached herself from many of her acquaintances.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Iskra was pleasant enough, but above all else she was incredibly powerful. Perhaps not right this instant but in Iren's eyes power didn't leave you.

At worst it could take a small hiatus. In that period of time it was important to stay respectful of the wielders of power. Lest they remember your ill treatment when their powers had enough of their temporary vacation.

"I have made it a habit not to question how the undeserving and ignorant manage success in their life, Iskra." He murmured absently over his shoulder as he positively glided towards the ramparts. Fully fueled with blood he seemed to float more than walk.

He hadn't felt this graceful in a long... long time.

"It would infuriate me too much quite frankly." Finally they reached the end destination. A piece of the wall with cover and a great view of the bay.

"The werewolf is a frequent visitor of the dungeons. Our Wardens seem to not trust him when the moon is close by." Which was probably for the best.

"Nico..." He smiled at the mention of his friend. "I presume still hunting for the right type of sword. And I am unsure about the muddy creature. I lost track of him? It? Once I looked after Nicomo."

He settled against the wall and watched her curiously.

"It must be horrifying to be without your power. A hunter without its claws. A soldier without his sword. A vampire without his..."

He smiled and flashed his teeth.

 

[Iskra]

Iskra was thankful for the wall provided for her to lean back against and pull down the hood of her cloak, clearing her vision to look out at the bay. They were not the crystalline waters off Amol-Kalit, nor the incredible vistas of the Valen Wilds, but the open water was something she looked out to to fuel her goal of leaving this place.

She looked up at him, catching the flashing of teeth. She snorted. "Yes, it seems the vampire is no longer without his shirt." A small, humored smile tugged at her lips. Even that flicker of emotion began to fade.

"I feel like a slave again." Without her magic, she was back in survival mode. As a child, she made work being sold to a noble family and tended to their home and kitchens. "If I had my magic back, I only need a day to find the rest of us and fool a captain in getting us out of here." Of course, it was surprising that she had wanted all that were aboard the ship to travel back with her to the main continents, but everyone had their uses.

The vampire simply gave Iskra a friendly ear, and for that she was grateful. "You look better." She observed, turning back to look out at the bay again.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

"Is that disappointment I detect in your voice? I could see my way to remove my shirt again..." Then the wind curled over the sea and send some waves flying beneath them.

"But probably not here and not now." That was the downside of being full of life essence and his body beginning to work as if it was alive again.

You also felt the things mortals felt. The cold, the heat and everything in between.

It wouldn't kill him but Iren enjoyed his little comforts.

"It is the blood." He confided in her absently as he watched the way the waves crashed. "I am being fed in a way I haven't experienced in a long time. Imagine being on a diet for most of your life and now suddenly you are being given regular buffets."

Yes, they were prisoners and that was awful.

But there were benefits too. He would be a fool not to see it. And yet. "I can hear you thinking. No, I would still get the fuck out of here if I could." He murmurs softly, only for her ears and not for anyone else's.

"I suspect we are stuck here even if you had your magic back. Don't forget, I can do some of my own and I felt their magical potential. These... Wardens are on another level."

He gently reached out... Giving those shackles a stroke.

"But... I have an idea about your little problem. You won't like it though."

Iskra

 

[Iskra]

Iskra rolled her eyes as his suggestion of being rid of his shirt once again, but such marvels in the world did not interest the mage.

What interested her was his attention to the metal around her wrists, her head dropping to see his fingers brush against them. "I will try anything to be unburdened by these." She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering what pain would be inflicted on her with this next attempt.

But Iskra stood tall against the cold stone wall behind her, looking at the whitecaps in the distance.

"Tell me your idea first. Best I not agree to near death, we do not know where Keres is at this moment."

 

[Iren Brightmane]

He shrugged softly.

"I grow stronger the more blood I consume." Iren thought back to the glory days when he fed and fed and fed, spilling rivers of it and gorging himself on the bouquets.

Those days were long gone.

"I fed recently on a shapeshifter... With her permission, don't fret." Izoldë was an interesting creature and Iren could even admit he had grown fond of her.

Somewhat.

"Magical blood gives me even more strength." He wondered if she saw where this was going.

"If you let me feed on you. Your blood might be what we need to let me break those bonds."

Or it would do nothing at all besides give him a taste for her.

Iren seemed rather calm about this suggestion. There didn't seem to be any hidden desire or manipulation going on to get at her neck.

But could a vampire ever be trusted?

 

[Iskra]

If her face gave no indication of her distrust, then her hand being withdrawn from his finger's reach was blatant enough.

"Sorry." She wasn't. "I am unused to resorting for the help of others." Which was not untrue. After the first few days here in Cerak, Iskra had become desperate for her magic, even a sweet morsel of power. She saw every smith, was told the same excuse, or was resulted in being punished by the enchantments protecting the longevity of the iron.

"And what if there was no magic in my blood?" Of course, how will either of them know without trying? It was a vulnerable thing to bare one's neck to the teeth of someone else, especially a creature that gained strength with blood. She would trust him in holding her hand and not letting her slip and fall, would trust him to not stab her when her back was turned...

But blood changed things. Giving up her neck...

"A test." She insisted, lifting the hand she withdrew and pointed a singular digit in the air. "I can prick my finger with my pin and allow you to taste whether there is magic mixed in my veins." Iskra was unfamiliar with how it all worked, but her willingness to work with Iren was progress.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

He waved her apology away.

"Fret not. For most of my life I have been alone, relying only on myself." Iren murmured without shame nor worry. "It is a hard life but satisfying in ways. You feel like you are all-powerful... until the day comes you slam your head into the wall and nobody is around to pick you back up."

Iren smiled.

"It is better to have someone around to pick you up and dust you off, Iskra. Take it from me." The question was a proper one and the vampire declined to tell her the truth. That he could smell it off of her. The blood, yes, but also the magic in her blood.

Best not to worry her too much.

"Indeed... such a test would be for the best. There is little sense in taking too much if we have no idea if it will work yet."

He gently took her wrist, his fingers soft on her hand and wasn't that a steep contrast to everything else about him? They had been at the tavern together when Iren had danced through the crowd... claws ripping through throats and feeding merrily as chaos devolved.

This was another aspect.

"Prick away, darling... I await."

 

[Iskra]

Iskra watched him carefully as he brought her wrist to his hold, a moment passed after he told her of his readiness. The mage brought her free hand to the left of her cloak, delicately removing the pin depicting a constellation. It was one she was not familiar with, possibly only seen in this part of Arethil. With slow and deliberate movements, Iskra forced the pin through her finger, withdrawing with a wince through her teeth as blood flowed over her fingerprint.

The pin was quickly put away into a pocket, eyes looking at Iren once more. "Does the smell of blood trigger a hunger in you, or have you truly fed well here that you have such control?" She was curious, having not met many vampires in her career as a Sapphire Hand to the Regent.

A question also brought her an attempt to pass off this exchange as nonchalant, not as an oddness as she awaited for him to taste her blood.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

And by way of showing his control he didn't immediately lean in to taste her.

Instead Iren watched the pin pricking her skin. The soft little ruby forming on the top of her finger tip and glanced into her eyes over it.

"I am always hungry, darling." Iren purred softly and presumably that wasn't really doing much to make her feel at ease about this. "However... I can control the hunger... let it work for me, instead of letting it work me." This might not be all the reassurance she needed, but the fact that he simply held her hand and didn't try to devour her probably worked to his advantage.

"But because they feed me so well, you don't see me transform into a monster out of a nightmare at the sheer whiff of your scent."

Only then did he lean over and run his tongue across the small wound. Tasting the blood with a soft hum... and letting go of her wrist once he was done. He swallowed and watched her with interest. "Oh, yes... magical indeed, darling... I will need much more... but I do believe..."

Reaching out to run his fingers against her shackles.

"I can at least make a dent in these."

Already Iren felt more alert... awake. As if he had been sleeping at the wheel (lulled into sleepiness from the dull blood of regular mortal servants) and finally jumped back into life.

 

[Iskra]

Iskra turned her face, so as to not see him move closer to the small wound in her finger. He only took what she offered, not needing to press at her finger to force more flow of her blood. Then he was a well behaved vampire, just as he claimed to be. She did her best to pull her emotions back, to wear a neutral expression as she turned to him again.

"Well, at least I can still call myself a mage." Was her attempt at lightening the mood, but soon Iskra grimaced.

"Shit. You look..." Determined? Ready? "You look as if you had some Kaliti coffee."

And so, what did the blood of a mage do for someone like him?

 

[Iren Brightmane]

He smiled as he felt the tick of her heartbeat speed up.

"Yes, there is that." Iren murmured after a moment of thought. "But it would have been rather unlikely that these shackles would have such a permanent effect." From the stall of a giant brute throwing fire balls all over the place it was rather unlikely that he would have had an artifact powerful enough to permanently remove someone's magical potential.

"I feel like I had Kaliti coffee... or two of them." He felt better and sighed happily. "Are you ready? I will have to take it straight from your vein, darling."

Closer to the source, to the heat of her heart and flesh.

Usually Iren preferred to use his knife. Biting a human's neck to get to the blood was just... barbaric in his humble opinion.

But it also would allow him to gain more strength from the magic in her body. There would be no residual loss the way it would with a cut. If this was simply for his pleasure it would be one thing. But the last thing they wanted to do was get this over with and do half-measures, just to realize that he couldn't break the shackles because of that.

His finger tips gently brushed her jaw, tilting her head up and away to expose her neck to him.

"You will have to trust me, Iskra... and I know that doesn't come easy to you."

 

[Iskra]

Her head moved in the way his fingers guided it to, her eyes fluttering to the dreary sky as hesitance begged to be release from her motionless lips. The mage said nothing, but the rest of her being gave every indication she did not like the suggestion he had made. She trusted him, but did not trust his true intentions.

But that could be said about everyone residing in Cerak, new and old.

"I don't trust you." She finally said, but made no move to be free of his grasp at her chin. "But if I deem you to have taken more than your fill, I will have no qualms with sticking my knife into you."

Iskra spoke as she she could very well mortally wound him, despite not knowing of his capabilities, or perhaps if she would merely tickle him with her blade.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Iren was heartened by her response.

It meant that she was smarter than most of them. Iren had been asked too often about 'his friends' and the question constantly surprised him. The fact that he traveled with them, the fact that he protected some of them and supported many... it meant little. If his hunger decreed he had to eat them to survive, the hunger would always win.

He leaned in there as if to already sink his teeth into her neck... but instead his lips brushed her jaw and ended at her ear.

"That is wise, my darling." Iren whispered softly and warmly as his remaining hand would wrap around her wrist and gently bring it to his chest. "If you stab right here... between this rib... and that rib. You will get to my heart..."

Iren smiled pleasantly at the feeling of the pointy edge of her knife pushing into the fabric of his clothes.

"It won't kill me... but it will incapacitate me for long enough for you to chain me." He breathed out and for a vampire he felt very much alive. Warm, almost hot to the touch, as if his body was in overdrive after just a simple taste of her mana-infused blood.

"And then you should throw me off the wall into the ocean. So you will remain safe... if my hunger overwhelms me... but let us hope it won't come to that, yes?"

 

[Iskra]

Iskra flicked her gaze to meet his own, narrowing. If it weren't for the smirk twitching at the corner of her lips, she could have been regarding him with contempt.

"Well, if you fail in this, I am glad to know the precise way of inconveniencing you." She lowered her daggered hand, now readjusting her stance to comfortably stand against the wall than lean against it.

"So, is this where you take all your lady friends for a taste?" Iskra was no fool. What he was about to do would look every bit scandalous if anyone was to care, but they were away from prying eyes, lest they came this way. When he would come closer towards her, the mage would think better of her lowered knife and instead let her fist come to rest at his shoulder, playing it off as a way of getting comfortable. "Or is it just mages you prefer to drink from like a tap?" Iskra looked to the grey sky again, telling herself over and over that this would not take long, that she would be free of these cuffs soon enough.

And then she could be free of this shithole.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

"Mm, that is what trust ought to be, darling." He purred as he stepped back and let go of her now. "It is giving the person you trust the weapon to destroy you with. How else will they ever feel comfortable in your midst?" This observation gave a keen insight into Iren's state of being. Truthfully it couldn't be any other way. Any room he entered he was by his very nature an apex predator.

Only by giving them the means to end him could they trust him.

He chuckled.

"My... lady friends, Iskra?" Iren hummed as he set his hip against the wall, watching her with interest. "Is there a different sort of rendezvous you are more interested in?" His fingers tapped at her shackles again. "Perhaps after we get these off of you?"

Playfully tease and the smirk suggested as much.

Iren didn't have much truck when it came to sex and lust. The hunger consumed him every minute of the day, but it did not crave flesh and cries of ecstasy.

It hadn't for a while.

"I usually prefer to use a knife and a cup. But 'straight from the tap' as you say... allows me to consume more of you. A deeper drink. It is harder to keep myself in check, but it should give me the strength from your blood to snap the cuffs off of you."

His fingers reached out and stroked her chin softly. So liberal and free with his touch.

"Ready your knife, darling. Get it as close against me as possible. If I snap... and go too far, you will only have one chance to stop me."

 

[Iskra]

Iskra glared at him then.

"Can't say this is a great precursor of pleasure for your company, Iren." Her words were low, said slowly and deliberately as she turned to position herself and knife where there places needed to be taken. "I am already spoken for." Above all else, there was one thing she deemed more important than that of herself. The Empire she served, but none of the crew she traveled with knew she was a spy in their midst. She had followed them to the Eye in hopes of bringing it to her Regent, but shit went crazy once more.

"Right here?" The point of her knife pressed hard, enough to cause discomfort at one's chest if they were human. Perhaps it were a mere tickle for one like Iren, but she was not going to ask those sorts of questions. Iskra readied herself, perhaps too stiff in her readying herself for the bite she knew to come.

She did not need to tell him she prayed to her saints, begged for the gods to give this vampire the sense to stop once he had taken what he needed. Iskra never depended on anyone else. She had prayed before and went unheard, but the strength of her own magic is what kept her alive by looking out for herself.

"I'd hate to pierce your heart before you delivered on braking these cuffs." Defiant eyes looked up at him, a storm of emotion unable to pick just one, and the mage put slight more pressure with her knife.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Iren laughed softly and it chimed like music to the ear.

Strange how such a vile and dreadful creature could be so pleasant at the same time. But that was part of the edge Iren and those like Iren had. Strength and power to dominate those weaker. Charm and guile to control those who should know better.

"Oh, what do you know about the shapes and curves of pleasure, Iskra?" He purred sweetly as he seized her chin... and tilted her head up and away again. Leaning in there and letting his nose run against the line of her vein, picking it out by instinct, feeling the thrum of it against his lips.

It sped up the moment his fingers squeezed her flesh.

Right there. His voice trickled into her mind now that they were this close. Separated from one another by the point of his teeth and the line of her neck. Try and keep possession of yourself... it might be... hard.

And before Iskra could ask what he meant? Iren's teeth sunk into her neck. Two sharp points of pain through her flesh before she felt him begin to swallow her essence. Controlled, measured and the pain faded away quite quickly.

This would have been fine if not for the fact that the pain was replaced by something else. Bliss... joy... pleasure in its many shapes and curves. It would run through her body like lightning. Like being filled by light and music.

A vampire had many tricks but none was as dangerous as their bite. Gruesome, harsh and wounding. But each bite turned their victim towards it... making them more pliable and if they were bit too often?

They'd start to crave the next sinking of teeth into their flesh.

 

[Iskra]

The suddenness of the bite caused her to flinch, a wince sounding through gritted teeth. The knife instinctively pressed down for a second, but Iskra's free hand fought through his clutches and clawed at his shoulder, her way of fighting the pain he had caused her.

A pained whimper was loosed from her lips, eyes scrunched closed as she grimaced.

But then things began to shift, as if Death caressed her into a state of acceptance and allure.

Her face softened, her body stilled a moment. Iskra unable to help herself as she came to relax and revel in the bliss of the bite. What she had thought was a vulnerable thing to bare one's neck, she knew now that not to be true as the clawing hand softened it's grip, fisting his shirt as if to keep herself from floating away. So lost in him... no, his bite, Iskra had forgotten he had spoken with moving his lips, that she could feel lips to the flesh of her neck each time he took a mouthful of her blood.

She let out a disheveled breath, as if she had been holding her breath for some time.

The only danger she could think of now, was whether or not he had taken what he needed from her. What she thought to feel pain and the loss of such blood, she only felt a pleasure striking her very senses and numbing her to the danger that was him feeding from her.

"Iren." The knife pressed hard, enough to pierce his flesh.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

He had forgotten exactly how delicious this was. This was the reason that Iren was constantly hungry... because he lacked this. The euphoria, the heat burning through his veins and setting his entire body on fire. The way his fingers curled into her shoulder and squeezing there to pin her back into the wall.

To hold her in place as he swallowed her essence and absorbed her into himself.

It was so... so fucking easy to let go. To lose yourself in the river of mania and blood, until the other person was empty of anything but joy and desire.

Then Iskra stabbed him exactly where he told her to and Iren moaned, pulling himself forcibly away from her throat. His eyes blown up wide, more black than anything else. His face beautiful and brutal in equal terms as he gazed down at her.

Iskra. She could see his bloody lips moving but the voice came from deep within her.

"You... taste... exquisite." And part of Iren wanted to continue. Wanted to pin her back into the wall and hold her down until she gave everything up to him, including her life. But then he managed to get a grip on himself and sighed as he gently rubbed away the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Mm... I- apologize. Thank you for the reminder." Softly tapping her wrist. "You won't need that... I am... in control again."

His eyes had reached a deep shade of purple, specked with crimson.

"Give me your hands... I will try and break you free." Voice still absent however. Still in that shared pleasure they had just shared a moment ago.

 

[Iskra]

Her name was on his tongue, but it wasn't, not truly. She lowered her head to look at him, the last stray tendrils of pleasure leaving her, and washing with a coldness as he withdrew from her neck.

Fuck. Perhaps she had spoken too soon about this being a precursor, but instead of carnal delights, Iskra had been too happy to offer her neck to him again.

Instead, the mage dropped her gaze to his chest, knife pushed through shirt and the top layer of his skin. A small bead of blood stained his shirt, a small cut made apparent once she removed the knife and dropped it to their side. The knife fell with a loud clatter, making her flinch.

As if he were the mage, casting a spell, Iskra lifted her left hand for him to inspect the cuff. Words were not something she wished to rely on, not when her blood was smeared across his lip.

"You... taste... exquisite."

The words caused a slight shudder to her being, but Iskra still did not voice her shared sentiments.

No... there was no need to sate his thirst, for he had taken his fill for now, and must make do on his end of such an arrangement. Her skin itched, as if it was already burning beneath the cuff offered to him.

 

[Iren Brightmane]

Pupils dilated, skin hot to the touch.

Iskra didn't have to say a word because Iren already knew.

He left it alone however. In truth the farther away he was from the active swallowing of her blood, the more embarrassed he felt about the whole thing. This was exactly what he had wanted to prevent all this time ago when he stopped drinking directly from the vein.

It was frankly beastly... but oh so pleasur- No, get a grip on yourself.

To distract himself he grabbed hold of her cuffs... and began to tear the metal off of her wrists. The metal whined and groaned, struggling against his hold and Iren had to be careful not to tear her arm off alongside of it.

Until finally it snapped open and one of the cuffs dropped to the ground. Joining its bloody cousin, the knife, on the floor.

"One done, one more to go..." He whispered in concentration, tongue stuck between his teeth, as he began to pull at the second cuff. That... is where the trouble began. No matter how much force he exerted, it didn't want to come off of her.

Iren's brows furrowed in confusion.

"I..." Glance up at her and then back to the cuff, trying another time, but having the same result. "I can't seem to exert any force on this one, Iskra... it seems to be much more powerful for some reason?" And there were no lies in his tone and she had seen the bulging of his muscles as he had pushed himself to the very brink just to tear the metal off of her.

"It must be the grounding element. The point where its magic flows from... and it must be better fortified than the other cuff."

He licked his lips as he glanced up at her again.

"I apologize... it seems I have only been able to do half the job for you." Iren, notably, did not offer to drink more from her to try again. But it took all his restraint not to. Even now his eyes glanced down to her neck and the dried blood.

Hunger... made apparent.