The homes of the wizarding world range from the eccentric, even absurd, to the more classic and traditional homes. Many are expanded internally by magic to make up for what they lack in size naturally, and many more now have defensive spells up in hopes of protecting themselves from Trevor and his Death Eaters.
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by: Samael Nachtweber
4 May 2012
9:32 p.m.

Everything had been set into motion. The potion was brewing, the mechanisms in motion that would see his master back to his own body. Samael had even convinced Downing and Calloway that there was need for a test, a simple subject of no consequence to ensure the process would work. After all, he had argued, should it fail, they didn't want to lose yet another part of an already septated Dark Lord to a botched attempt. He had a specimen which would work, he argued, and should that work, they would have another of the potion brewed in tandem so they could immediately see to the rise of the Dark Lord into his former glory. They could do with the other as they so chose. Only, they had no idea what or whom it was he had chosen. They had no idea that there would be no discarding of the other whether they so wished it or not.

Samael had, of course, spent many evenings studying over Downing's work, researching both the potion ingredients and their known interactions with others and the potion itself. It was dark magic, something rarely attempted, but followed to the T with no mistakes, it seemed sound and proven. The man who had created it had looked for a way to bring back his deceased lover, and there had been reports of sightings following his suspected attempt. Whether it was true or not, Samael could not 100% determine. It could be absolute hogwash, but the lengths Downing described having had to go through to attain the manuscript provided him with doubt. Someone had given it enough stock to collect it and possibly to hide it over the years. There had been tales of its disappearance at some point in history.

The night had arrived to bring his master back, but he had one last thing to draw. The time taking care to hide Captain Markus von Wolfram and even moving him in some instances when his pesky lover and former partner or even a pesky Nosferatu had found their noses a little too close for comfort had paid off. His hard work had paid off, and tonight? Tonight, he would be reunited. The fools were unlikely to recognize his master in his full glory. The only pictures of him were mangled and kept secret from the public eye. He had been referred to as a mere murderous "vampire," but he was so much more. And together, they would prove to the world that there was no escape.

"It's a fine night, isn't it, Captain?" Samael said as he set foot into the dank room he had Markus strung up in. His hands were clasped behind his back and his face cordial. A thin stream of moonlight came in through the small, rectangular window near the ceiling. The moon was very nearly in its full glory. A dangerous time to revive his master, yet he had no doubt he could hide him away the night of the full moon and keep him safe from those who might wish him ill until he was well enough to exact revenge upon the wolf who had killed him.

"At least, it is for me. A night for rejoicing, you might even say." He grinned a fanged grin as he stepped into the stream of moonlight, his face half-occluded by shadow. "It might yet be for you, too, Captain, believe it or not. If you play your cards right, you might find yourself free to return to the arms of your lover." The captain was a sight to behold. He may have healed him of the wounds from the muggle weaponry, but he hadn't bothered since. He'd found keeping him weakened and tired to be a better strategy than allowing him his full strength. They'd spent many a night together, Samael doing everything he could to break the once-strong man, the man he'd once admired and fancied to be like once his training had completed. Now, he pitied him at best, despised him at worst. Or perhaps the indifference that he found seeping in would be considered worse. Samael wasn't certain these days.
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by: Markus von Wolfram
The voice did little to pull the captain from the daze he'd fallen into. It was just another unpleasant hum that generally meant pain in one form or another, would shortly follow. His arms ached from being stretched overhead, his shoulders taught and straining with the weight his legs couldn't support anymore. Not that it would have mattered in the long run. With the way Lance had him strung up, his toes barely brushed the ground anyway.

As much as Markus wished with all his heart his captor would go away, he knew it wasn't the case. Something was brewing. Over the past days? weeks? Lance had been diligently changing their location. Whether it was in part due to whoever it was that had been nosing around for him or just all part of whatever Lance had in store, Markus was still with it enough to realize this was probably the end of the line. Especially since the vampire kept dangling the false hope of walking way from whatever this was if only he cooperated. Heh, fat chance.

At the mention of Anne, Markus managed to lift his head enough to throw a glare, though it was lacking any true emotion or the spark of defiance it usually carried. Lance had made sure of that. Many a night was spent with the vampire and the mental hell the thing seemed bent on inflicting on the captain. When the creature didn't get the reaction he wanted things turned physical, bar the one time Markus had almost managed to escape. The captain chalked that episode up to a lesson well learned. Combine that with the lack of food and water, nothing beyond what Lance needed to keep him alive, Markus knew he was in a bad place. If he was being honest, the man felt as weak as a day old kitten.

"Sod off." The words were barely above a hoarse whisper but it was all the fight the captain had left in him at the moment, and words were the only thing he had to hide the fact Lance had come close, so, so close to breaking him completely. The last night they'd spent together had been especially vivid... his boys... Markus let his head drop and he felt his heart constrict in anger, though truth be told there wasn't much fight if any left in the captain.
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by: Samael Nachtweber
((What date is it in June we want to go for? I know we needed to change date.))

Samael smirked at Markus' dismissal. He should know by now that when the vampire had words for him, there was no way he would simply "sod off." No, he would say his piece, have his fill, then leave him to further rot. And rot Markus had. Certainly, Samael had seen to it the mortal had received food and water in enough quantity to sustain him, but there was something about being afforded little movement that caused atrophy to set in. The movements weren't smooth. He could hear the almost squeaky sound to them. There would be a long road to recovery for the captain, if he chose to live. Thus far, it seemed he was choosing otherwise, but that wasn't the Captain's choice to make. He could live on a mortal or he could live in what would be for him an eternal hell: turned, the same as Samael. A living leech, bound to live by the life force of others. He could try to die then, Samael supposed, but the hunger would be much too strong for such a feeble place as he would find himself. Markus would feed, and he would live.

"What is it about you, Captain?" Samael replied as he approached closer. "You've been here since March, and it is now June, yet you seem to believe you can dictate my actions." His lips curled in a sort of sneer then he chuckled, pausing his step and looking down. "Stubbornness, I suppose. And that stubbornness is going to earn you a fate you do not desire, if you're not careful. You realize this? I'm not unreasonable. I believe you and I could yet reach a conclusion both of us would be happy with, but you fight it now. 'Sod off,' you say. I could. I could rob you of the blood I need and then some and force upon you that of my own and leave you here. Leave you here, chained, alone, a mortal working only a matter of yards away. The hunger would drive you mad. I could bring you a child, and you wouldn't care. I could send in Anne, even. Dearest Anne, her flesh so soft, that vein so supple, her heart so...strong, appetizing." Samael ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. "You would feast the second she was proffered, chained or not. You might believe you're above me, even now, but you're not. I could change everything in an instant. Is that what you wish?"
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by: Markus von Wolfram
Markus wanted to cry. The frustration and hopelessness of his current situation was the highest it had ever been since he'd first been taken. Worse still was that Lance just wouldn't shut up. The younger mans words painted a vivid picture in the tired captains mind and the threats... All the ways Lance could continue to make his life a living hell. There was no doubt in Markus' mind that Lance would carry through with them and not bat an eye and it was terrifying. To know that Anne, or his family, or anyone he cared about for that matter could be killed on a whim, or by himself if Lance followed through wit the threat to turn him... Merlin he'd never be able to live with himself and he was certain the vampire knew that.

The captain blinked back a few tears that threatened to spill out and averted his gaze so he wouldn't have to look at the younger man he used to think so highly of. Markus bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything back, and took a few deep breaths through his nose to try and calm himself down. That was what Lance was after anyway right? A response. Begging. A broken mess. He didn't want to give the vampire the satisfaction but it was hard, so hard to keep up the stubborn front. Markus didn't exactly know why he kept up the stubbornness aside from it being the only way he had left to fight back against the vampire. Trait of his family he supposed. The only hope he had to cling to, that if he could hold on long enough, someone would find him. A fools dream perhaps but it was all he had.
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