It was a dangerous habit, dwelling in the past. However, that had been his recent days in the present. Since the gathering he'd been forced to attend, his mind was a battleground. His thoughts waged war with one another: what used to be, what is now. Who he used to be, the stranger that he had become. It was the shadow that haunted the dark slits of his eyes, it was the slight crease of a frown that had made his face a home.

Would his siblings even recognize him anymore? His appearance hadn't changed remarkably over the years, but the skin was ill fitting of the monster he had become. A skinwalker, donned in the robes of Theodred, a nameless beast that puppeteers his skeleton. The conversation with the pianist, the memories she had stirred by nothing more than the innocent play of music, it had all brought him here to this very moment. He didn't know what kind of ruler his brother would have been. He didn't know what kind of lady his sister would have grown into. They had been taken before their lives even had a chance to flourish. He remembered the raspy, uneven breaths his brother had taken near the end. He had been chosen by whatever semblance of order they had possessed. He was to be turned as well, but death hadn't spit him out, not like it did for the bastard son. He knew the way Isabella had screamed.

But he knew they would be abhorred of him.
They would loathe this thing that he had become.

So that was why he stood here now, idly watching the wind rock the sign for the Toad & Thyme to and fro on its gentle current. Of course it wasn't the face of the general that currently held fixation on the adornment. It was a tawny, shorter man with angled features and longer, shaggy hair that softly curled around his face with some of it pulled back atop his head. It was not his normal disguise, but he certainly didn't want any to know of his visit here. Known or otherwise. The streets had eyes, the walls ears. The less any knew, the better for them. He couldn't exactly afford to openly fall out of the queen's good graces, at least for now.

So it was in a lighter, meeker tone that called out a soft "Hello?" As he pushed open the door to peer around the shelves. He'd heard great praise about the keeper of the business. A different manner of magic, they claimed. One he hoped would be of service to him. So that he could be of service to others - what he should have been doing for a very, very long time now.

The day was slow, quiet.  What felt like hours passing by on a sparrow's warring flight was naught but minutes of a caterpillar's wayward crawl.  Tanyi LeFer had spent that time attempting to make rhyme or reason out of the boxes that were gathering, en masse, behind the veiling curtain.  Do not enter.  A sign read above the eggress so that curious noses didn't find their way into the reserves of whatever lay within the growing mountain of boxes.  Thus far, Tanyi had found a mummified cat head she'd forgotten about some odd months ago.  Its cheek was given a gentle wipe before she peeled back the curtain to find it another home.  One where it would be adored for the magic it contained and not scorned for the oddity it was.  How many of her precious trinkets earned a scowl or disgusted grimmace instead of praise for their power? It was then that she'd noticed him.  A rather lean silhouette that meandered among the shelves and the contents upon them.  The wheaten strands of loose hair stood out among the rather droll backdrop of the gray-washed walls and rustic interior of her humble little shop.  He was handsome - suspiciously so.  To an untrained eye he'd be a catch worthy of courtship.  To her silvery stare, he was a potential danger.  When one lived alongside monsters dressing themselves as men, you learned how to find them.  It was the only way to keep yourself safe.  Never trust that which seems too perfect.  Vampires - as they were called - harboured a ghastly aura far different from the humans they attempted to portray.  If one had to associate it with, say, a smell, Tanyi would liken it to rotten flesh.  It was not to say that his disguise was poorly executed.  In fact, it took a moment for her to catch that faint undulation of his spiritual vibration to see beyond the human mask. Dangerous indeed. But instead of treating him like a potential threat, Tanyi approached his side with a hint of a smile dressing the rose-kissed coil of her lips.  The tip of her finger tapped gently against one jar, then another, each whose contents were yet to be labled but all within his line of vision.  "Iron scribes.  For candle magic."  She murmured.  "Owl pellets for divination."  She stopped on a jar whose visible contents seemed to be wooden nails.  Tanyi pulled it from the shelf, holding it in the light for the man to see.  "Wooden stakes.  For the... undead."  A wry grin crossed her features.  "Or perhaps you're looking for something else?  I can help."

 
The steps were soft as they came to him, a mere whisper of sound brushing this way and that from the mysterious depths of the shop. It wasn't until they were at his side, however, that he found the supposed owner. Though no other seemed to be in the shop, he supposed that it could have easily been another patron until he stole a glance at her from the edge of his peripherals. He'd seen her before, of course, but it was always a bit.... shocking to truly behold her. An incident. An unfortunate accident. Spared or cursed, he had no idea which view she had of it, but regardless, the coil of her lips lilted upwards into a polite simper.

"Iron scribes.  For candle magic." The sound of her voice accompanied the tapping of her sere nails upon the glass vial. "Owl pellets for divination." Her words were low, but as her next move hinted, he assumed well enough that she knew what he truly was. It was of no consequence to him as she hovered over the splintering nails of rough wood. He didn't need her to think him human - not yet, anyways. "Wooden stakes.  For the... undead." Despite the proposed threat, or mayhap just a way to inform him that she knew, he would clear his throat slightly. His true skin bore the scars of those encounters, but this costume was smooth, unmarred by the anvils of violence. Her smile only grew, however, warping softly with wicked intent. "Or perhaps you're looking for something else?  I can help."

"I am looking for something else." Though his voice did not mirror the meekness that he had posed upon his entrance, it still failed to emerge as his true one as well. Had he been here for any other reason, perhaps he'd have let the entirety of his disguise melt away, but just as much as protection for his own identity, it was a precaution for her as well. He would not allow another innocent to be trapped in the crossfire of what he was to commit should another see the general of Lavalles in this shop. Should he be caught. "I need a disguise - a better one." There was a hesitance. He knew all too well that the crown had ways to make those they interrogate speak the truth - not just fear or pain induced. He'd seen the serums, the arcana that would unwind the tongue no matter the will of the speaker. "I'm to be.... hunting monsters, my lady. And I don't want them to know who or what I am. Do you have something to aid me with that?"

Despite her belief or not, he would affix his stare to her, muddy river eyes searching her own cerulean ones. Delving through molten flesh in full in hope to map her expression - to anticipate the honesty of her answer. If she did indeed take his request seriously and understand the implication, he wanted to see it.

"I am looking for something else." She'd anticipated as much.  Many of his kind hardly stepped foot in her shop to avoid surrounding themselves with the reminder that their immortality was simply a farce.  They were not the gods created by the lore of ancient human ancestors.  Very much like the humans they fed on, mocked for their weak bodies, they could also be killed and succumb to fleshly injuries; they would turn into ash and cruel memories.  No creature is truly immortal - some were just harder to kill.  Often the vervain garlands were enough to ward away the night devils hoping for a quick meal.  Deduced by this, Tanyi realized that he must be in a desperate position to step foot in the Toad & Thyme.  It didn't take him long to elaborate on the reasoning for his visit.  To the point - admirable.  Sterling gaze narrowed slightly on his fake iris and the aura wafting from his carefully crafted glamour.  The one flaw in an otherwise perfect suit.  Of course, to an ordinary human, it was flawlessly convincing.  To another occult, however... Tanyi's gaze flowed like silk down the length of his figure, the touch of her eyes gently laden with a plethora of curiosities.  She studied the way his hands were long and seemingly soft if she were to touch them.  She studied how his torso was slightly tucked in the abdomen and how lengthy the legs were in contrast to his hips.  There was no denying the curious howl begging to know what truly lay beneath the human skin.  In a few elegant strides, she made her way towards the door to flip over the sign so that it read CLOSED to anyone else who sought entry into the quaint little shop.  "It won't be cheap,"  She cautioned.  "but I may have just the thing you need.  Follow me."  Without another word, Tanyi made her way towards the doorway that read DO NOT ENTER and disappeared behind the billowing curtain.  Inside were the mountains of boxes, but beyond that hall led to a larger room.  A room that smelled of herbs and faint hints of sulfur.  Vials of wet specimens, bowls of ground metals and hanging herbs decorated the room in no certain order.  Most of it was tossed around half-hazard.  Bones, antlers and horns hung from the ceiling very reminiscent of a witches' cottage tucked far back into the woods.  The stone floor held remnants of chalk outlines that had been lazily wiped away days before.  "Watch your step and take a seat there."  Tanyi motioned to a stool off in the corner while she made her way to the book that was housed on a table.  She leafed through the pages long since tarnished with ages of use.  "How long do you need it to last?"

 
She observed him for a long moment, as if dissecting him bit by bit til he was naught but the bones of a hollow ship under her attention. While he knew her to be eccentric, there were very few whos mere attentive eye could make his skin crawl, that made him want to straighten.

To raise his chin in defiance.

This one, and the Red Queen herself, were the only ones thus far that he could say forced such an instinct to rise within him. He had met her before, darkened her doorstep on several different occasions, once or twice as himself, as the general Theodred, but normally it was in some manner of disguise for one reason or another. Most usually it was not to deceive the shop keep herself, but for the sake of his own privacy. He did not indulge in the public being privy to his affairs. He had no wish to build any connections to those he did not already have - though Tanyi was one of them, despite if she would admit it or agree herself. It seemed all too perfect that the thread that bound them had shown herself in the house in Odersten.

He would watch as she crossed the small distance towards the window, silent fingertips flipping the sign to ward off any other customers. While the store was still standing, he wondered just how much business a woman of elden arcana would have in face of many residents here harboring one power of another. In truth, one of the things that had drawn his curiosity here were the similarities between she and the woman who had cursed him with life. A witch they had deemed her, and with that condemnation, so too was he burned. Even if it wasn't the fine bridge of her nose, it would be the inky strands of his hair that would tell any that he shared her blood. His memories of her were few and scattered, manipulated by the blurry recollections of a toddler when she perished in their private home, an isolated villa in the mountains far from the dukedom so that the duchess would be none the wiser to his father's betrayal. This shop was the closest thing he had ever come across to those marred memories. The herbs that decorated the ceiling, the odd and strange collection of items. The very smell upon the air. He breathed it in, deeply, as if it would take him there. Even for just a moment. Then he was drug back to the present.

"It won't be cheap," came the initial, bitter warning. He had already expected as much, though. She was a dying breed, and her arts were certainly worth their prices, at least he had found thus far. "-but I may have just the thing you need.  Follow me." Without another syllable, she would glide behind the curtain that separated the storefront. He followed after her shortly, unable to keep his eyes from roaming the oddities of her collection. So to, did he allow the apparition of himself to shift, until a face that she surely would recognize would meet her eyes next she turned to him. It belonged to the man who had brought to her a wounded young woman, one he had drug from the maw of danger, one he had brought to her for secrecy should her tormenter once again search for her. A face he hoped would vouch to her of his sincerity not to merely use the thing for sport.

"Watch your step and take a seat there." Her instruction would dissuade his focus from the split, dual face of a serpent, coiled and poised in one of the large jars to where she gestured. The smell was heavier here, the air stifled, almost as if the place itself was a tomb. He couldn't call it pleasant, not with the underlying, pungent assault of sulfur. With one last, cursory glance to the glass, he would obey and settle himself neatly upon the stool. His focus was instead placed souly upon the shop keep while she thumbed through the pages of what looked to be an extremely antique - even by his standards - tome. "How long do you need it to last?" "as long as possible, with multiple uses." He could only hope it wouldn't be too taxing, let alone exasperating for her. No matter how much he wished it, he could not meet his overall goal in a single night, nor was it practical for him to return here each time he had the opportunity to go hunting. Eventually, that would lead to being caught, an inevitability rather than strict pessimism. "Consider price no issue," he would add, should monetary value be of concern to her.

"As our world grows older,"  Youthful eyes remained fixated on the stern visage of a woman whose years were chiselled deeply across her brow, her mouth, even the gnarled crook of curled fingers and time had not been kind.  Wisdom lines, as the elder liked to call them.  Tanyi grew to understand their true meaning as time went on under her kind tutelage.  The world was cruel.  Karma had long forgotten this woman abandoned by the fates.  A dead husband; childless.  Frowned upon by the city residents whose lips gleefully delved in rumour and spite the moment their eyes met.  Accusations of murder - a spell gone wrong. Her skin would always prickle, a fight brewing on the tip of her tongue restrained only by the reassuring squeeze to her good shoulder. There was no one more esteemed, more worthy of respect, in young Tanyi's eyes than her maternal aunt, Odette Dutoit.  "There will come a day where our craft is forgotten.  Your mother for example... she chose to reject the old ways and look at her now.  Rotting in a cell, abandoning her flesh and blood and for what?"  The older woman shook her head with a sharp 'tsk'.  "My tea, Tanyi, dear.  And my book." "As long as possible, with multiple uses."  Her soft fingers flipped through the pages of the old, time-worn tome inherited by none other than the departed crone.  The same who taught her to read the auras of others be they mortal or possessed by the woes of the supernatural stolen.  "Consider price no issue."  A faint smile tugged at her mouth pushing up both good and maimed flesh as her finger trailed down a page brimming with intricate symbols, circles, and crude drawings of herbs and stone.  She leaned forward on the stand, elbow nested on the left page and her chin cradled in her palm as she drank in the spell's instructions.  "And if the price is parts of yourself as you are now?  Would it still be no issue?"  A ginger brow piqued in genuine curiosity while stark silver eyes regarded him.  "I will take my dues, of course, but magic, she does not obey the laws of man nor does she respect our currencies.  Her price will be far more cruel than mine." Tanyi abandoned her post to gather the supplies required for the spell.  A menagerie of chalks in different shades and hues.  Each she'd use to mark out the same symbols seen on the page.  The floor was her canvas, her sacred space.  At the centre of the intricate design lay a stone - beautiful moldavite - and in another circle lay an offering of rosemary.  She continued to work the spell, offering her herbs and personal power into each before taking a step back to admire her work.  Once satisfied, Tanyi spoke the incantation that would bring it all to life.  The lines sparked with embers of power, each growing in strength until they glowed with the persuasion of her voice and intention. Dulcet hands scooped up the stone whose surface radiated with vibrant potential.  It seemingly hummed in her hand before falling quiet, dormant.  Tanyi held it in her outstretched palm momentarily before curling her fingers around it tight enough to break the skin.  As the stone drank, Tanyi's entirety began to ripple, to change, to become someone who was not herself.  Even the aura around her body shifted, disguising itself with the scent of vampiric gloom.  "Feed it blood.  Yours or someone else's, it doesn't matter.  So long as the stone remains whole, you can refresh its uses by letting it bask in the full moon's light."  Her weathered fingers uncurled to reveal the stone, an offering for this curious client.

 He watched her obsessively. His eyes never left the intricacies of her features, the way her body language revealed all but naught to him. While she certainly already spoke and acted as if she held the key to what he had requested, there was a cloying uncertainty beneath the surface of his cerebral prison. It wasn't paranoia so much as it was another step closer to the fruition of his plans. Nuances and careful plotting that could then be tested. A much needed step. Yet one that would have him swinging his legs over the precipice of the cliffside and diving into the unknown depths of the hollow it yawned before. One mistake, one unforeseen factor and this path could come to an abrupt and sharp end. Those along the way could also not get caught in the crossfire.

"And if the price is parts of yourself as you are now? Her brow would lift at him, her fingers wandering over the pages of the book cradled upon its pedestal. While he thought he had seen it before in her time of caring for Helayne, he had never beheld it in this context. He had never witnessed her actively consulting it for her craft. His mother's own grimoire rested in his home. Tucked away in precious hiding, one of very few intimate possessions he would be upset to part with. While it was nowhere near as large, the tome still reminded him of it. Of its pages filled with various herbs, their uses, some even containing the pressed leaves of species that may very well no longer even grow. "Would it still be no issue?"

"so long as I can hunt, yes." There was no scope of hesitation within his vocals. Finally, his gaze would draw in a soft blink as she leaned away from the withering pages. "I will take my dues, of course, but magic, she does not obey the laws of man nor does she respect our currencies.  Her price will be far more cruel than mine." He would tilt his head in a vague display of curiosity. As he had feared, a possibly unplanned for aversion from his tasks. "Any idea of what I should expect?" He inquired, wishing to be as well informed of the matter as he could. It mattered little to him what the spell took, just as he stated, so long as he could continue to pursue his current goals. It would already be a difficult endeavor to keep up appearances with his current duties as well to avoid suspicion for as long as possible, but should the cost of the magic prove too taxing... well, it needed to be accounted for.

Then, he was once again content to watch her work. He watched her map out the pathways for the spell's circle, an art that he had also learned from his matron and what lingering artifacts he had of her. The very same he had done to commit the atrocities in Dunmeath. Though his medium was often time invoked by blood than chalk as he had no say over the elements any longer and hadn't for quite some time. Everything seemed to connect to a solitary stone, one that began to pulsate with a light of its own as she began the mantra of her arcane. The symbols and runes followed suit, sparks illuminating the space and filling the room with the scent of hot chalk, flint and stone.

She grabbed the moss hued stone glimmering and humming, then within her possession, it stilled, as if it had breathed its last. Then her fingers curled over the nonuniform surface, until the prickle of blood begged his vision to drift to her hand. A loathsome, disgusting instinct, albeit his focus would have likely been drawn to it anyways. Intense mana seemed to fill the precious material, a pulse ebbing over the shop keep until it was no longer she who stood before him. But someone else entirely. A face and energy that which he could not perceive any longer as human. It was the same bleak atmosphere as others of the undead.

Applaudable work indeed.

"Feed it blood.  Yours or someone else's, it doesn't matter.  So long as the stone remains whole, you can refresh its uses by letting it bask in the full moon's light." She would hold her extended hand out to him as he approached, her fingers uncurling to showcase the artifact that had effectively devoured the crimson ichor. He would take it, his thumb running over its edges, testing them against the digit's pad. Sharp enough, indeed. Eyes would draw from it and back to its enchanter. "And your price?"

       

Tanyi LeFer {as above, so below}     Hunting.  It brought to mind the howl of wolves in a winter scene, their thick pelts disguised by bare brush and fallen snow.  Their amber eyes trained intently on the breathing of a doe caught unawares nourishing herself on bark and thorns.  It made her think of the rolling shoulders of a predatory lynx laid low in the thicket.  A rough, pink tongue hungrily swept across its lips moments before warm rabbit blood filled its maw. Tanyi wondered if vampires looked at them like a doe, a rabbit, before sinking their fangs into their necks.  Did they haunt the shadows like a lynx or would they work together like the wolf?  She wondered exactly how did vampires hunt. Part of her hoped never to witness it - perhaps that part belonged to her frail mortality or as others called it, self-preservation.  Curiosity, however, couldn’t put the question to rest. “Any idea of what I should expect?”  Tanyi quieted her imagination long enough to shrug her good shoulder almost dismissively.  “Nothing too terrible, I hope.  At worst, your memories begin to slip in fragments.  At best, a little dizziness.”  When he’d taken the stone from her palm, the wound began to weep anew.  Small pearls of red gore drew along her palm like dewdrops on a thread.  While Tanyi rummaged through the belongings on her shelf for a cloth, his voice piqued throughout the cobweb chamber. “And your price?”  She was fortunate to know the forest and its treasures.  What one could eat without violently rejecting it and what one couldn’t.  There wasn’t a night spent with the gnawing pains of hunger nipping at her belly.  The Toad & Thyme brought in just enough to keep a roof over her head.  Money had never truly been a dire need nor had greed wormed its way into her mind that all she could think of was coin, coin and more coin. With cloth in hand, she held it tightly until her knuckles grew white from the pressure and turned to face him, to observe through her good eye.  “A vial of your venom.”