Vernacular

I suppose the proffered opportunity did not strike me as uncalled for; it was simply a more civilized means of dealing with a Rogue, such as myself. Although I did make the offer of leaving silently, it was a half-hearted attempt.

"I think it'd be better if you came with us."

Mekare's voice held nothing but contempt for me, but I considered myself lucky, at the best. They had chosen not to kill me, and I could not pass that off in a pessimistic way. When the thought of the other sister, Maharet, happened to cross my mind, however, the situation darkened immensely. It was a safe assumption to make that both Maharet and Mekare maintained order in this home I was being taken to. By that thought, I could guess that decisions were not one sided; at any rate, I doubt this pair had come upon me by happenstance. Someone must have sent them in search of me, which would mean that someone would be awaiting news of their findings.

I muted a much needed sigh--

This alone, I am sure, seems odd, on a tangent. Yes, I do sigh, yet not out of necessity. I have made it one of my primary morals--one of my creeds, you might say--to maintain a character closely resembling that of a mortal, at least, as best as I can manage one. I refuse to allow myself to become an animal like many of my kind has degenerated to. We have so much potential to be such a noble race; we can be so much more than vultures and worms scrabbling amongst the blood-drenched dirt, bickering over half drained corpses like sick dogs.

Oh, how I lament these things.

But, I apologize for my lack of focus. I shall return to the matter that was at hand.

At this time, I moved into the desirable position, being behind Mekare and before Oliver, so as the male may keep a better eye on me. As much as the situation distressed me--I may not have kept much of an existence, but I was not as of yet prepared for an end to it, whatever it may be--I still felt a sense of exhilaration. This was the meaning I had been searching for; this the excitement that would have sent my mortal heart racing. Whatever the outcome was, I had found something to make this Stygian place I dwelt in a tad less dark.

After a short trip, we arrived at a grand mansion of a structure, and I was already reconsidering my decision to be so complacent; who could ever willingly leave such a place?

We were then approaching a fantastic swimming pool with a sole occupant, and I struggle to decide whether my mind or my eyes registered the individual first.

Maharet

If my first glimpse of Mekare had been astounding, then this meeting was so, ten-fold.

I am not a creature prone to amorous feelings, but I suppose that whatever I was undergoing at the moment was as close to these as I can imagine.

The legends did nothing to justify this godhead of our race, our religion, our culture. Emerging from the pool, almost sparkling as the moon reflected upon the minute droplets of water, this figure appeared to me as some long sought-after Venus. My existence had, to this point, been a solitary one, full of my rebellion against the complacency of a home.

At this moment, however, a home did not seem such a terrible concept.

Remembering my manners--which I was hard-pressed to do--I made my customary bow, awaiting to be addressed, though I could have stood in silence for quite a while.

"Care to explain why one such as old as you would draw attention to oneself?"

Upon registering the sound, I almost could not think. I had grown so accustomed to the harsh, guttural diction of my wild brethren, and hearing such a cultured voice simply struck me speechless.

However, the stony expression upon Maharet's face as she spoke to me slightly undercut my elation, and I quickly sated her curiosity.

"Well, it must be that I was craving to have my wrists held by a younger male, no? I had no intention of drawing more eyes. I was simply curious as to see whether or not you were truly here. Stories do nothing to lessen the awe, of course. I had to see for myself. That is all."

I inwardly winced at my again sharp tongue--I feared that it was truly sharper than any stake--but I drew the desired reaction from my audience--curiosity. Even if they did not show it, it was displayed clearly upon their faces.

We exchanged a few more words and expressions--I was keenly aware of the uneasiness of the one named Oliver, though I knew most of it had previously been dire contempt for me--and finally, my saving grace came.

"This 'odd venture' almost cost you your life. You are welcome to continue this 'venture' if you agree to abide by rules which I am sure you already are aware of. If that is not the case, I would suggest you take your leave right now."

Leave? I most certainly think not.

I eagerly awaited the replies of my captors--though I was thinking less so now--and each one gave an acceptance, that is, except for Oliver. I did not expect a warm welcome from this one, nor did the others, for, without waiting for his consent, I was 'inducted' into The Coven, my new home.

Home did not sound so wrong now, even to these old senses of an old Rogue.