Kathleen
Lyudmyla of the family Babich
Koshmar Keep, Ostrovya 

The moon shon bright on the roof of the ornamented carriage as it trundled down the wooded path. The carved angels wept under the pale light as they stood guard of the creature inside. 

The journey was no longer than a day's length from Castle Babich to Koshmar keep - a once beloved winter home, and now gift, that sat deep in the south forest of Ostrovya.

During the day the curtains had been drawn, leaving Lyudmyla in pleasant darkness. She was dressed in a crimson embroidered shift and an emerald sarafan, tied about the waist with a woven belt. Her red hair was adorned in a long black veil, not unlike one worn for a funeral.

As the carriage passed under the outer portcullis, Lyudmyla's bony hand pushed the curtain back and she gazed out into the darkness where she could see her dear Konstantin, partially illuminated in the doorway. Something in her chest tugged, a pull towards her creation.

Konstantin, who came to her with such a will to survive in such a frail body, was one of the children she was proudest of. The Wyrd had helped her craft him expertly from the hollow shell of a hollow body. Muscle was made and bones cracked, skin repaired and paled and the magic in his fingers spread darker through his veins. 

Her child, her creature, her love.

As the carriage pulled to a stop, the driver hopped out and opened the door, it took its mistress' cold pale hand and helped her step down to the ground before the main doors.

"Kostya," She called,"Come kiss your mother."
Nelly
Konstantin Babich
Koshmar Keep, Ostrovya

There she stood before him, just as she had all those years ago.

He watched her step out of the carriage, her skeletal hands clasping the driver for support. The driver looked anemic, pale and sickly, but when Konstantin sniffed the air, he deduced it was from fear rather than bloodletting. She did not, after all, make a habit of bleeding the useful ones.

Upon his mother's welcome, Konstantin stepped down from the doorway and embraced her, his arms wrapping serpent-like around her waist. He leaned in and kissed her lips, savoring the taste and the chill of her flesh. Then, too slowly, he uncoiled himself and stood upright before her. "Hello, Mother," Greeted Konstantin, smiling a wide-lipped smile. The brutal chasm of his mouth gradually unveiled a full set of canine teeth. "I've missed you."

He beckoned her further into the light, opening the door for her to pass. "Please, come in," He said. "You must be starving." And so, Konstantin realized, was he. He licked his lips and motioned Mother through to the dining hall.
Kathleen
Lyudmyla of the family Babich
Koshmar Keep, Ostrovya 

Oh, how she had missed his arms around her and the taste of him in her mouth. Gently she placed a kiss either side of his lips and took his face in her hands as she scrutinised his features - checking for any blemishes in her handwork. When she was satisfied she let her hands drop and smiled again at him.

She looped her arm around his so he could lead her inside. She could smell their dinner from the entrance already and longed to feed. It had been a long time since Lyudmyla could remember when last she had not been hungry, when her stomach wasn't like that of a bottomless void.

"I have missed you also," She said softly as her eyes explored the halls and took on every small change that had been done to the place,"You must visit home more often. Your brothers and sisters miss you - Kalini as well, she sends you her love."

The dining hall was intimate for a castle but grand all the same, the red cloth clad table displayed a feast that made Lyudmyla's teeth yearn to sink into something.

"You've outdone yourself."
Nelly
Konstantin Babich
Koshmar Keep, Ostrovya

Konstantin felt Mother take his arms in hers, and he leaned into her, like a cat vying for the touch of its owner. In another life, before she had healed him of the illness which had crept its way through his tissues, he had not been a tactile man; any slight sensation made him sicker, and he recoiled from even the tiniest of movements. After Mother, all his senses became amplified. He smelled better and felt more. Her touch, greatest of all, sent shockwaves of pleasure down his spine.

He watched as she examined the interior of the castle he had come to call his home. It was a gift to him from her, and he had only changed minimal, surface-level things: new curtains, new furniture, new inhabitants. The bones of it, like all things in his life, were hers.

"Please do send Kalini and my siblings my warmest regards," He replied, lightly unhooking himself from her. "You know I would love to visit home, but it is good for the family to keep this outpost occupied. And," He added, "The hunt is better here."

Yes — there was something about the woods surrounding this keep that enhanced the quality of it, both the feel and the taste of the hunt.

As they walked into the dining hall, Konstantin pulled out the chair at the head of the table, waving for Mother to sit, before leisurely situating himself in the chair beside her. At her compliment regarding his work, he grinned and thanked her. The meat did look beautiful. It had never looked like this when it was still wriggling.

Unlike Mother, Konstantin never forgot the names of those he slaughtered. This was Yuliya, the maid who had wanted to trick her peer into an undesired audience with him. He had plied her with wine first; typically, he wouldn't use such tactics, but he wanted Mother to enjoy the taste of it in her mouth.

He poured from the pewter chalice, watching the liquid, as deep and alluring as garnets, flow into the crystalline glasses: first Mother's, then his own. After placing it back on the table, he ran his index finger across the lip of the chalice and swiped at it, once, with his barbed tongue.

"The meat is fresh," He said to her. "Just butchered."

As an afterthought, he glanced at the hog, whose grave countenance lent a fine centerpiece to the table. "And the decor is fresh, too," Said Konstantin, gesturing to it. He felt the Wyrd carving themselves into his stomach again. The hunger was always there, even when he least expected it; this, of all things, had not worn away with age. "Please," He said, finished for the moment with smalltalk. "Let's eat."