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[Dealthagar]

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Dealthagar's eyes half opened. It was still only mid-afternoon, but his body had slept enough. He liked to believe it was because of the newness of his turning. On the other hand, his lover and sire still slept, nestled in the crook of his arm, her legs still tangled with his.

Dealthagar's steward had moved them from the floor in the great hall to Dealthagar's chambers at some point during the night. The fact neither of them had woke, or even changed position from when they had collapsed spoke volumes for Sularis' attention to detail, as well as his gentle touch.

He may have been awake, but the warmth of the down-stuffed mattress and the comfort of his lover's embrace kept him lazily in bed. Her normally neat ponytail had been pulled apart, and he brushed the errant hair from her cheek to behind her ear. His fingertips gently traced her jaw line and cheekbone. He smiled. The proportions were off, ever so slightly. He imagined most mortals would find her to be unnerving, but be unable to put a finger on exactly why.

To Dealthagar, it made her all the more alluring. She was exotic, unique. Her touch, her presence, he found her intoxicating. The fact that she could look however she wanted, made her all the more desirable. She made small contented noises as he kissed her neck. Rolling from the bed, he pulled on a silk robe and slipped silently from the room.

The dirty urchin sat at the table, enjoying a bowl of chilled fruit and cheese. Dealthagar looked her over, as Sularis doted on her. The massive gargoyle bowed. "Good evening, m'lord."

Cocking an eyebrow, he regarded his servant. "Who...is this?"

"Her name is Azula. She's an orphan." Sularis bowed his head. "A dinner guest."

Dealthagar's empty sockets narrowed to the teen. He walked over to her and brushed back the unruly thick red hair, exposing pointed ears. "Elven?"

"Half, m'lord. My father was human, a militiaman of Yew." She stopped eating and regarded the Technomancer. "I'm a hard worker, and will do whatever you ask without question."

Dealthagar turned back to Sularis. "Excellent" Like a bolt of lighting he had a handful of her hair and hauled her to her feet. His teeth tore her throat apart and he unhinged his jaw to catch the blood that poured from her wound like a river.

Slaking his fill, he dropped her to the floor. Dismissively, his hand waved over her. "In Mani” The wound closed, leaving thin long pink scars. Looking down, Dealthagar nodded as her eyes rolled back in shock. "She'll do quite well. Excellent bouquet." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "If she survives, put her to work."

"Yes m'lord."

Dealthagar pulled out the girl's chair and sat down in it. "Oh, and when you're done, I'll need a canvas and paints."

"M'lord?"

He pointed at the portrait of his first wife. "I will be replacing that."

"Yes m'lord." Sularis picked up the unconscious girl and gingerly carried her from the room.

Dealthagar danced his fingers through the bowl of fruit, savoring the flavor. "The Dragon devours its own tail, the old becomes the new becomes the new. The world returns and is reborn in the ashes of the old."

He flung the bowl at Anna's portrait and roared with laughter. "The Oracle of Passion walks amongst us again, as she never has before."
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The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
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