The clash of steel against steel rang out upon the still night air, echoing betwixt the trees: a parry here, a blocked thrust there, riposte that drew no blood…such a precious substance wasted in battle, and yet some slights could not be ignored. His pathetic skills were nothing to her own, his strikes weak and imprecise while his defenses were easily negotiated; and yet, she did not wish for this to end quickly. She was a patient woman but she could also be cruel, especially to those who deigned to address or discuss her as one might address or discuss a common whore. He was “courting” three other women but seemed to seek validation by demeaning one with whom he was<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>engaging in amorous activities. And while she had no interest in his bed or what little wealth of which he was possessed, his land was valuable; now she would have to buy it at auction, however, for his attitude toward her while she had tried to court<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>was beyond merely insulting. She would not stand for it.<br/><br/>She was not some weak-willed mortal, to be called upon when he wished for someone to demean.<br/><br/>She grew tired of this little game now and struck him at last, causing him to cry out as the blade of her rapier sliced cleanly through the back of his right knee; blood spurted out as he fell, and she quickly locked the tip of her blade into his pommel. His rapier went flying and she pressed her own against his throat. Baring her teeth, she watched as his eyes widened in horror. Oh, yes, he knew what she was - knew it and feared it. He began to beg for his life, now knowing the danger he was in, but she was having none of that.<br/><br/>“I would not stain my teeth with your filth,” she declared in a menacing whisper.<br/><br/>That whisper was like a clock tower’s bell in the dead of night, and so was the sound of her sword cutting slowly through his jugular. He collapsed onto his back, writhing as his blood flowed freely. The ground was drenched in seconds, pooling around him, until he laid still at last - sprawled upon the dirt like some kind of garbage thrown away without a second thought. She spat upon his fresh corpse and turned away. Drawing in all the breath that she could muster, she raised her head to the sky and let out a long, low howl that was as chilling as it was mournful. Then she lowered her eyes to the shuddering manservant before her, a husband on paper only more than a century ago. Now he was but her eternal man, fearful of her (and rightfully so) enough that he was willing to do whatever she commanded him to. That was as it should be. She glanced at her other manservant, a man she had turned after freeing him from the Bastille even longer ago (if only by a few years); he was loyal because of that, and his loyalty had a surprising amount of stamina. Her eyes flicked back to the first one as he spoke.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">”Shall…shall I dispose of the body, m’lady?”</span><br/><br/>She shook her head ever so slightly.<br/><br/>“No,” she replied quietly.<br/><br/>She turned her head toward the silent figures now picking their careful way through the trees. Their yellow eyes glowed in the night and their fangs glistened as they reflected the limited light of the moon.<br/><br/>“My friends will take care of that.”<br/><br/>There was no smile that graced her lips but the satisfaction and fondness for the timber wolves that now set hungrily upon the body was obvious. Lucien recovered the blade and approached her; she turned and handed over her own rapier to him for safe-keeping. There was no need for it now. She could have torn the man apart but she was no savage, no wild beast, no monkey with a complete lack of self-control.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">”To the carriage, then,”</span>Lucien declared.<br/><br/>“Yes,” she said, nodding. “To the carriage.”<br/><br/>Lothaire hurried to open the carriage door for her when they reached the road but Lucien was already there. He held her hand as she stepped up into it. She asked that he take only the better roads, as she cared more about her rear end than she did the time.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">”Of course, m’lady,”</span>Lucien replied before closing the carriage door.<br/><br/>The men boarded, Lucien took up the reigns after passing the blades to Lothaire, and a quick<span style="font-style: italic">snap</span>sent the horses off into the night. It took some time for them to arrive as the fog rolled slowly in, giving the pristine crimson carriage an eerie look. When they arrived at last, there was a man waiting outside to tend to the horses as need be but Lucien waved him away. Lothaire quickly opened the door and held his mistress’ hand as she disembarked, steadying her as was customary. He closed the door and was told by Lucien to deal with the carriage. The swords he had cleaned while riding, and so he simply placed them behind the driver’s seat.<br/><br/>When she walked into the party, she unfastened her cloak and Lucien took it from her. He bowed respectfully and went on his way. Among the party-goers now stood a baroness of some note in her homeland, although here, she was merely an opera-goer and the owner of a small theatre that was gradually making a name for itself. She was greeted by the wife of a local tailor of some renown and smiled as she was complimented on the cameos that she wore. She soon excused herself to have a drink. Her favorite red wine was served here. She had already fed tonight - so had her manservants - and so she was merely drinking to enjoy herself. Her teeth were now hidden in the covered pockets of her gums that concealed them, thus making her appear no more odd or unusual than anyone else herein.<br/><br/>“Barkeep,” she stated, “a glass of Roscato, if you please.”<br/><br/>She turned her head as she heard a popular local tale being told. Ah, she had crossed that bridge of which the man spoke. Was she to have escaped some spectral cavalryman, then? She smirked slightly at the notion, though she said nothing. While the supernatural was certainly a reality in the world, she hardly believed in murderous ghosts obsessed with taking the heads of others in search for their own.