Backstory
Where: Council Ante-Room
Warnings: None
Open to: Morena
The ante-chamber was as dark and foreboding as the Council Chamber itself, although since his father’s time the dribbling wax candles had been removed and gas lights installed, casting a sickly wane glow over the furniture. Isiah had liked the dribbling flickering candles, and in truth the gas lights were no better, flickering madly and giving off what he thought was an unhealthy and dangerous smell. None of the other Council members seemed to notice it, however, and so he ignored it.
As he ignored them for the most part. They were fools, all of them keen to impress the Vampire queen and benefit from her power and protection. It was sickening the way that the others, human and unhuman alike had squabbled to agree with her proposal, to strengthen the vampires still further and weaken the werewolves in comparison. True, half of the pretty idiots had no idea what games she played with their wills and with their lives, but Isiah knew that nothing Mariella did was ever simple or innocent. They thought they knew her, the witches and the humans, but they were pawns to the vampire, and she cared not one wit what happened to them.
He growled to himself, ignoring the other Council members at they left, turning his back as he moved to the decanter on the dark-wood dresser, pouring himself a more than fair measure of thick scarlet liquid. Wine, mores the pity, although he was sure Mariella had her own decanter full of blood, always kept topped-up and fresh. It always seemed to him unfair that the vampires could continue feeding while he and his kin were banned from anything such.
He raised the glass to his lips, taking a swallow, and turned, raising an eyebrow as well as his heckles. “What do you want?” He said, glaring at the witch. He didn't feel much kinship to her, or any of her kind, now more than ever, her words having been less than helpful and if she wanted to apologise now, or try to make amends, well, she was a silly strumpet in that regard. "It's getting early. Better rush home before someone misses you, seamstress."
