Zahira Naqvi (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=93697.msg4086443#msg4086443)<br/><br/>Zahira woke from the trance with a start, the poem's words still echoing in her mind. Her body was stiff and she shivered, sitting naked in the ice cold blood that pooled around her. She unfurled her limbs and the dried blood that coated her body cracked in protest. She rose to her feet and motioned the nearest ghoul - it just happened to be the same one from earlier - to clean up the mess from the ritual. The man hurried past her to commence cleaning and she vaguely noticed the kalif smoker had long since departed. In fact, she remained the sole inhabitant of the outside ritual area. She had most likely run all the others off early with the screams she was sure to have emitted when the tormenting visions of the ritual overtook her mind.<br/><br/>Entering the caverns below, she decided to use the nearby public showers to rinse, instead of dripping blood all the way back to her personal apartments. These new contraptions had only existed in the caves for a year or so. The idea was brought from the outside world when a group of newly turned Assamite Viziers sought shelter in Alamut. Zahira was still getting used to the idea that the luxury of bathing on a daily basis even existed! Growing up - and even during most of her years as a vampire - it was common to only be able to bathe once or twice a year, depending upon your wealth and status. Alamut, however, possessed for quite some time communal hot tubs, steam rooms, and cold baths. Water there was harnessed from an ever flowing underground spring, as well as the very rare rainfall.<br/><br/>Surrounded by pipes of various sizes, Zahira turned the knob on the showering contraption and it sputtered to life. Her body was already ice cold from the blood bath mixed with the desert night air so the frigid water pouring down on top of her didn't much phase her. It was when the heated water came from the spout that made Zahira squeak. The warm water felt scalding against her icy skin and tears formed in her glowing golden eyes. The tears mingled with the water running down her face until her body defrosted enough to find the shower soothing. By that time, most of the blood had been washed from her hair and body, flowing down the drains, emptying somewhere outside of the mountain. She used the communal oils, massaging them into her skin before relinquishing the shower. She dried off, not bothering to parfum herself before hurrying off down the halls.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft"><strong>Amaravati</strong><br/>(http://i221.photobucket.com/albums/dd315/Kali_83/Amaravati.jpg?t=1294703401)</div>She received many shocked gasps along the way, many hungrily eying her nude form but Zahira remained ambivalent. She entered her and Lydia's chambers, scarcely taking note of Lydia's zealous candle light studying. She pulled on a simple robe of black velvet and turned to address Lydia. Before she could speak, Lydia stood and pinned her with a disapproving glare.<br/><br/>"You attempted the Approaching the Veil ritual without my presence, Zahira. That is a dangerous ritual for even the eldest of Assamites!" Lydia scolded. Zahira brushed off Lydia's concern with a wave of her hand before walking over to the other vampire, an intense but wary look in her eyes.<br/><br/>"Lydia, I saw a different vision. And with this vision accompanied a poem. Listen," Zahira recited the poem that had appeared to her in her trance. Lydia blinked and stared blankly at Zahira once the sorceress had finished speaking.<br/><br/>"I don't understand, Zahira. I have no idea about this lake that you speak of," Lydia confessed, her eyes darkened solemnly. "It says something about being known to your kindred belated. I hate to even suggest it, but c-could Amaravati possibly have an answer for you?" Her eyes expressed regret in having ever mentioned the thought but Zahira's own eyes lit up with renewed vigor.<br/><br/>She kissed Lydia quickly on the lips before exiting the room. Lydia came running after her.<br/><br/>"Zahira, not tonight! It is much too late and you are far too exhausted to attempt another ritual. You need to rest!" Lydia called after her.<br/><br/>"I won't attempt it tonight, my Love," Zahira called over her shoulder. "But I must recreate this vision while it is still fresh in my mind."<br/><br/>Moving frantically now, Zahira rounded the stone corridors at a quickening pace. By the time she'd reached the artist's quarters on one of the sublevels, she managed to all but burst through the door. All hands stopped what they were doing and all eyes fixed on her position. Hating the attention fixed on herself, she uses Unassuming Pose, blending into crowd of artists. Going back to their business, Zahira waded through the dozens of painters, clay sculptors, wood whittlers, and other various virtuosos until she found the painter from the other day that had painted her first vision. The painter was an Assamite Vizier but his name escaped Zahira's memory. Regardless, she spent the next couple of hours describing her vision as he painted it upon a canvas to perfection. Zahira was thrilled with the work but outwardly gave merely a nod of gratitude before whisking it off to her bedroom.<br/><br/>Zahira fell quickly asleep, not even waking when Lydia came to bed. She was exhausted but ever present was the original vision of the blue plastered woods. The next evening, Zahira rose without a word to Lydia. She threw on the black velvet gown she'd worn only a couple hours the previous night. Out from the drawer of her bedside dresser, she drew a key and left a curious Lydia to ponder what she was up to.<br/><br/>Zahira walked for a good twenty minutes before arriving at the large ornate door in the west wing of Alamut's first level. She placed the key in the lock and turned, hearing the multiple clicks of the gears. Moments later, the door opened with a long resounding creak. She walked in, shutting the door behind her and lighting the candles in the sconces with a mere thought. White sheets were draped over just about everything and contained a thick layer of dust. She knew exactly where the vanity was and approached it with haste. She lifted the white sheet, revealing many items. Ignoring the straight razor, she picked up the ornate handled brush that she'd given as a gift. From that she plucked a single hair. She walked to the center of the room and began chanting, focusing solely on the hair she clasped in front of her. After about five minutes, the startled but ever masculine growl of Amaravati's voice flowed through her mind.<br/><br/>"Zahira? What is the meaning of this?," He demanded, voice rumbling inside her head.<br/><br/>"Amaravati," Zahira breathed, momentarily forgetting her reason for contacting him. She had not spoken to this man in over three hundred years. She shook her head to clear her mind. "Please, you've got to help me, Sire." She addressed him formally, trying desperately to remove any trace of emotion from her voice. She recited for him the story of her visions and all she'd been through since they'd begun, and then fell silent, waiting breathlessly for his response.