Iseulith smiled politely to the witch as he approached. Her body language was relaxed but thoughtful, as if she did not truly trust the being before her but resigned herself to seek audience with him for what he could bestow her.<i>“Down to brass tacks love, you’ve invited me to your stunning abode for some reason that I am just overwhelmed with curiosity to hear.”</i><br/><br/>The vampire placed his delicate hand along the small of her back as they moved further into the room and away from where the naked elemental sat immobilized by the fireplace. The light danced off of the walls and the metallic gold ceiling surrounding them. Iseulith’s venom would begin to fade at this moment, metabolizing quickly in the man’s magical blood. It was only meant to paralyze for a short time after all, just long enough for the vampire to feed and escape without concern in most cases. Vampires were much weaker when in a state of blood denial and often required sustenance that would not cause them too much trouble physically.<br/><br/><br/>“Lady Venrya, ever the paragon of beauty and resolve. I trust your travel here was comfortable and expedient?” The witch nodded her head shortly, her heavily jeweled ears glittering in the soft light.<i>“That horrible death mount you sent me simply wasn’t my taste and I had to conjure up a coach of my own to bring me so yes, it was quite adequate.”</i>Her words were brisk and to the point. Truth was paramount among witches; bare and unfiltered, especially within the Blackthorn Clan, one of the more obscure of the modern witch families in existence during these times.<br/><br/><br/>The Blackthorns were known for their mysterious art of dimensional magic as much as they were for their secretive and cloistered activities. Little was known about the hierarchy and goings on within the clan but their mark was felt throughout the annals of their short existence. It was proposed that the matron witch Elthasenria began the bloodline when she made a pact with a being summoned from beyond the veil of reality and that every one of her daughters hence forth had developed the gift upon their first bleeding. This was a normal occurrence among witches except for the number of those born with the power and the dark twist of personality that developed most pronounced in the Blackthorn Clan. As the consuming shadow blotted out the color of their eyes, they changed in some subtle way, became more brutal or vengeful than sullen and withdrawn. The stronger the abilities, the darker the witch. Nature and Invocation witches alike would have very little to do with them and in fact they were directly opposed to the Ironfire Clan and betrayed them at every turn during the Witch Wars against the other vampires. It was what drew Iseulith to them in some regard, the willingness to turn against their own kind. It was true beauty in his eyes.<br/><br/><br/>The witch was smart for disliking him, regardless of that fact that disgust was simply part of her nature. The Blackthorns disliked anything that was not themselves and even fought amongst each other with the destructive power bestowed upon them by the other realm. Their power was best used for creation however, and that was what the vampire sought from her in this moment. They spoke in mild conversation for a time as Iseulith uncovered his plans to her. He wished to procure a space in which he could experience the comforts of his carefully fashioned otherworlds while inhabiting a vessel that moved from place to place and he wanted her particular skill at stretching the fabric of space beyond his own limitations. It was a small space he wished to inhabit and he did not wish for it to feel that way from the inside.<br/><br/><br/>Venrya agreed to help him only for his blood and he knew this to be the case. It was part of the agreement between all dealings between witches and vampires though it was treated strictly as a transaction with needles and vials. It went entirely against Iseulith’s sensibilities and he felt it was a rather vile and disrespectful offense to his blood, to be removed from him by anything other than a mouth or a sliced opened vein. As the deal was struck, conditions were made and one of them was that the service must obviously be performed before the full payment of blood was to be given in payment. The witch knew the vampire to be of his word when it came to dealing with most other supernaturals, it was simply easier that way. As long as she committed to giving him results for what he sought, he would always reply in kind to her requests.<br/><br/>“Ten vials in total, three now to secure your abilities and seven fresh afterwards, you may even watch me do it if you like.” The vampire teased softly as Utaa produced three gleaming glass tubes full of violet liquid, from earlier in the day, kept in place with a smooth dark plug. The witch snatched them from him quickly, slipping them into a pretty silk bag around her wrist.<br/><br/>“As usual then...” she offered shortly casting her eyes along the ceiling once again.<i>“As always, you are a master of detail in every endeavor. Do you suppose that any of the matrons knew what would become of their sacrifice? That we would eventually learn to tolerate each other for a grander purpose?”</i><br/><br/>Iseulith followed her eyes to the mural, placing a finger under his chin, “I don’t suppose they did. I don’t think that either of our kind could have fathomed an agreement being struck between the two races, however tentative it may be. If it had not been written into the Elder Law I would imagine that you and I would be on very different terms.”<br/><br/><br/>He thought of the wars again. He had chosen to partake as little in the bloodshed as possible, merely content to watch from the sidelines. There were many that came for him back then, witches and even warlocks that knew of his power and thought themselves powerful enough to take him on directly. All had failed, as was apparent. Most in fact never laid eyes on him at all, dying to his dimensional traps and wards, sealed into walls or even some of the landscape paintings that decorated of the house, forever imprisoned and slowly rotting away within the brushstrokes of a dream world. “I would hope that wherever they are now, they understand that the death of so many may have been avoided had they not sought to quell or control us.”