Helfyre... the game is afoot

*A subtle shift in the darkness of the tavern... warm and cold alike, little puffs of it, like sobs in the night, as it reaches to embrace, touch, wrap about the being who is simply -there-... cat-like eyes of vermilion blinking from the shade of the lights... repugnant decor, the torches sputtering in their sconces. Poor taste, those... a cloak, or some dark garment, tightens about the vision, the apparition, in the dark... the tall, willowy, elegant form of a female. And slowly she casts her gaze about, like a gift to be treasured, twining about all she allows her eyes to fall on... deeply sensual, this touch, mesmerizing... a caress*

*A delicate brow arches over scarlet pools of inner fire... she watches, a moment, a small skirmish... tips her head as she listens. Very interesting... but not the game she is here to play. No, she is here for a very specific reason, and with that in mind, her eyes lift, to view the doors that line the upstairs. He was there... somewhere. And while her lover seeks information from one of their precious pets, she searches other ways... and smiles darkly. Oh yes... he is here*

*she strolls outward, into that hideous, garish light, her grace mortal-maddening, and to each motion, a purpose... languid, sweet, enticing, and again, she pauses, watching the gathered a moment. Until she has the information they need, she will do little... her eyes narrow as again she looks to the rooms above her. Into the silence, her words fall, unheard, not a Sending, but those of the dark may catch them, if they know how... the air carrying her thoughts, like shadow messengers, away from her*~~~~So pretty, little pet... so powerful. We want you. Ours, ours... little pet. Insolence is charming, to a point. You destroyed our works. You have much to answer for...~~~~

*there is, of course, no answer... for as much power as her... and their... prey has, he is still young. So young. And she, so ancient. Skilled, oh yes, he is, but enough to escape them? her eyes shine in delight, amused. That would be a refreshing chase, she thinks, but still.. he needed torment, needed to be chided for what he'd done. So much lost. She smiles. The game was afoot, and she wanted all the pieces... a young syntant. Another telepath... a lover. If three were all he cared for, then three would be taken. Simple as that. Dark heart, dark twisted mind. She can -feel- him now... feel him mourn in his own ways upstairs... feel his needs. Lover was gone, was he? Eyes shine and narrow again. But he wasn't far away. Her lips curl in something like a subtle grin, eyes cutting to the door. Ah, but barred that way... Light was outside too, and she would not engage with that... but the other... Time and time... she has time aplenty for her games*

*Again, a brow raises, delicately, lovely face turning to view the origin of the outburst.. oh. /Them/ again. Loud, those two... she turns away again, eyes lifting to the rooms... she so wants to play /now/...*

*Ah, but... can't she tease, at least? Finding an empty table, she slips gracefully into position, simply staring at the door she feels him behind. And yes.. yes, she can feel him. She can feel them all... for were they not all her children? All her living puppets? Bred and created at her whim... for her amusement, her delight. Oh, she knows them all well... /all/ of them. And so many to scold. Unruly, as little ones will be. But to stay the rod... would be to spoil them... and that is intolerable, already they have been spoiled. So she twines outward, dodging any other thought-lines in the way, keeping hidden, so good at doing that. Wards... strong and many. A little smile, the tug of ripe lips, and she sighs. This /would/ be fun... as demons categorize such things, their vicious little playings...*

*She ignores the only other mind in the tavern who seems to be able to even realize she’s there… and focuses on the room… on the wards. They push… they hurt. She knows this instinctively. She gathers their taste, their flavour… she takes them inside herself, and lets them linger there, lets them cultivate, grow… soon, she will have it, have them… have /him/…. Whetting her lips as if it were a physical feast she just indulged in, her smile broadens. He was not the only one who knew how to play this game, the game of minds, of strings and threads, links and planes. Her mental brush against the shields so very light.. it could simply be a person walking by the door… an ordinary mind, a non threat. He’ll most likely never notice, not with him /that/ distracted by other things. A lover, gone. Gone too long. Poor child… so very desperate. But she also knows attempting to seduce this one, physically, was an impossibility anymore. Human to demonic, she felt that, to something in-between. Rare.. so very rare… in fact, the only. This alone means he is valuable. Under their control, their toy, their doll… oh yes, this proud, hungry boy. Other observations, from the surveying of the battle, which was mostly scryed upon before they appeared themselves, or pushed their awareness, to the scene…. Telepath was not all he was… beautiful Eshva mutation. TK bonds had held him in place… the devastation to the astral plane from far more than a simple mind-fight. An air-walker. Oh so /easy/ to hold one of those*

*….And of the lover. She saw him, they both did. And they knew… oh yes, they had their ways. Direct paths, as it were. And that he is Gifted, also they know. Shields, he had those… and something else… but that would be determined later. Galateia would tell them of that. Now, the other boy, the white and blue… friend to one in their hold. Ah… another reason this telepath needed to be punished, while in her, he had severed them, cut them off from the young mind. Now that he was gone, she was theirs again… and through her, barring any interruptions, they would have the child. Bait… all of them, bait. And once the mind-taste was hers, so too, the familiarity. The female psionic… easily enough taken. Chameleon-like, so simple. Masquerade… masks. Red eyes narrow to fiery slits. Perhaps this was -too- easy. She wanted struggle, fight… then again, what she wanted she got. And she will have them all*

*The only mystery at the moment… the lover. Perhaps the most formidable of them all. But now… when the feasting is complete, when she has the flavour… oh, easy to undo /him/… but no. No, that is not the plan, not unless its a last resort. The pain would be sweeter if it were the lover who betrayed /him/… and not the other way around. After all, the young man wasn’t one of theirs, he was simply caught in the middle. Not that such a thing would stop the twins, but it twisted the events. And hasn’t he already done damage? Yes, she thinks… yes, he has. Distracting the mutate like this, leaving him in his hour of greatest need, for whatever reason, leaving him alone and desperate, and unable, really, to fend things off, to search and defend, depending on his wards, depending on non-sentient defenses… while he himself was huddled away inward to keep from… dying. He was dying. Helfyre’s brows raise. Her toy… slowly dying, approaching a kind of critical mass. She can sense this… sense this agony from here. Oh how /lovely/. She almost crows with delight. It would not be swift, he has time left… a few days at very most. Dying as he struggled to live, fought to ignore his body’s demands. Her lids lower, eyes so bright, like crimson stars caught in the smoke of her satisfied gaze. Ah… young love. Betrayed already.. it won’t be the last time. She’ll see to that…*

*She stands, tall, regal, inhumanly beautiful… sparks in her gaze, wickedly bright. She has enough for now… more than enough, and best not to be greedy. Her own lover would want in on the play as well. And the pets.. well, they could indulge on the rest… those others who aided this precious mutation in the room above. They too, would have their amusement. Sensual smile, this had been a pleasure in itself… such a sweet distraction. Soon, she’d have his signature, soon, she’d have his mind to wrap herself in… poor little fool… little boy. The game is underway… now for the pieces, the pawns… a soft, tender sigh as night touches her again, skims her shoulders like dark, gossamer wings, tightens about the lush form of the… crossbreed she is… and in a moment, like a breath of laughter, she is gone*