Celeste smirked at him. “Doesn’t matter much now, does it? That civilization is long since gone.” And she had been the one to do it.  She thought on her mate and shrugged. “No, not always. He was not always part of this plane. However, he is a far call from who he once was. We have always just been.” Have always just corrupted.

She held his hand for a long time before letting it go. “Good, may we not go back on our words to help each other.” Looking at the stacks of books she wanted to take home she decided to put Story to work. “We need to take call of these books on the Moons and their people.” She began to stack the books in Story’s arms and she found that he could hold an incredible amount. She too took another stack in her arms. It was enough for one trip as she opened the portal. It was to the main room of the manor. Their manor was so dark with the moon gleaming in through the windows.

The house staff bowed their heads to her while watching Story with interest. “Inform my husband that I have returned.” She was about to leave when she stopped dead. “And that we have a new friend.” She took him to what appeared to be a newer part of the manor. Opening the double doors for her the servants got out of the way she could enter the room.

The library was spacious and grand. The stone that the room was crafted from appeared to be hand carved. The room’s ceiling domed and at the very top, there was a skylight where the moonlight’s light could filter in. The flooring was mosaic with many such dark stones that formed the image of the two moons. Gold and silver candelabras lit the room. The library itself was two stories and the upper floor was just as well crafted it hard mahogany. The railings were crafted with intricate elvish designs.

She set the books down on a table and helped Story unload. She took a look around as the scent of old books filled her lungs. “This was his present to me. Perfection or death he had told them.” She had a tiny smile on her face. Who knew how many had died to make this present to her.  Mighty quartz pillars were at the edges of the room. It was the vision of beauty and Celeste had squealed when it had first been opened for her.

The shelves were made of good wood and had the same etchings done in them as the railings. She had half of the library filled. It meant that it was either a relatively new thing or that she was picky about what books she would preserve in this place. Her little feet carried her fast as she began to not only alphabetize each of the books but find shelving for them. She looked back at Story. “He should be with us soon. Do you require anything? Food? Drinks? The Volkovs know how to make their guests comfortable after all.” She climbed up a ladder and began to fill a top shelf.

“This is my library… and then I also have a garden with an apothecary in it. You can say he spoils me.”

Where Story should have been displeased at being made into a pack mule, he contrarily remained in high spirits. Scents of aging texts filled his nostrils, with hints of vanilla and various other flora from the process of slow decay. He was both a peculiar and a particular figure in many respects. If there was anything that ever struck good chords with him without fail, it would be feelings of nostalgia.

Daydreams of bygone times only became stronger for Story as the pair entered the halls of the court to which Celeste belonged. Magnificent archways, vast marble-laid rooms, and towering spires filled his mind's eye as they walked the halls. Indeed, everything here was identical to several lavish vampiric courts he had walked in centuries ago. The only difference that stood out here were the looks he received from its denizens.

Reactions were mixed and muddled, but the overall tone was…befuddled. He was not their kin. He was not a wolf. He was not mortal, and yet, possessed an aroma that belonged to the most intoxicating brands of prey. Story occasionally met the confused stares and guarded glares from moment to moment while they walked, and only smirked to himself.

Free of his burden at last when they reached the library, Story stretched, and regarded Celeste with a modest little smile. "No, merci. I have no needs. I partake only when it suits me."
Anywhere else, it would have been a profoundly odd thing to say; but in those words, he had passively revealed he was at least similar to the folk that he walked among.

Story paced idly about, crimson gaze not lingering long on the intricate details of the architecture, but instead, skimming the many titles that surrounded them with interest.
"Spoils, indeed," Story trailed off. "Where for a moment I thought I may have known your mate, now I am not quite so sure."

Like many other nights when he wasn’t with one of his consorts or out hunting and contributing to the mayhem that was business as usual in Kurayo, Nemesis would be in his study. Ever since he came to this land, there was plenty of time on his hands. Among many things he took up, it was painting that kept his focus the most. Throughout their home, there were portraits of those from his past as well as the present time- mainly of families and loves loved and gained. There was something peaceful about it that soothed the monster with each stroke of the brush against the canvas. The paints and oils were imported from Abed itself and there was a special ingredient that he added to his collection when the shades of red didn’t click with him. In the recent centuries he found something that filled that void, and it was rather easy for him to find; all he required was that of the occasion victim.

The eve felt long for him as the shirtless vaewolf continued on his nightly work, with each stroke as perfect as he possibly could muster. This one was of his last child who was so ruthlessly cut down in her prime. He still remembered that ill day when he was presented with a box with her head in it. He remember also of the massacre he unleashed on the guild that had done the dirty deed, ripping them part by part until they were a grotesque work of art. Perhaps that was the catalyst for his new found love. The child had the looks on an angel- with long fair locks and heavenly blue eyes back from when he raised her when she was human. The poor girl…that was perhaps the closest thing to an actual child that he could of had back then. Dipping the brush into the blood red paint, he started to work on the scenery behind her when he heard the door knock. Everyone there knew that he didn’t wish to be disturbed, with the except of it having to do with either Celeste or Sera or if it was one of them. From the scent, he knew it was before the vampire came in. “Lord, Lady Celeste is back home and request your presence in the library”[/], he spoke and Nemesis turned and grabbed a shirt nearby. “And there is a visitor with her.”Slipping into it, he gave a wave of the hand to dismiss him and headed off.

Strangers solemnly came here unless there was a purpose; the lost were warned not to trend this halls and only those that had to do business with them would seek them out. Personally Nemesis wasn’t keen to “making friends”, and his Serafina was just as bad if not worse than him on that level. Celeste was smart and if she had a good reason for bring someone here, then he would at least listen to them. For a time anyway.

The hunter came down and sought out the two in the newly built room. It was said that many of the builders had perished mysteriously and was built into the walls as to keep their lips sealed about it; while the rumor wasn’t true, he did nothing to stop the spread. Appearances were everything in this city and most were smart not to mess with any of his flock. When he found them, there was no surprise that she was accompanied by plenty of books. His eyes shifted over to the stranger she brought home and then back to his little wolf. “Any particular reason for us to entertain this eve? I fear the timing hasn’t prepared us to display hospitality.” His arms folded against his chest as he stood near the table and quickly scanned over the towering books. “Is he your new librarian? Might want to warn Sera before she thinks of him as something that needs breaking.”    

Celeste nodded to Story and began to wonder just what he was. There was a mystery to him just like how there was a mystery to her. She watched him looking at her library and it pleased her. Not many people in their house were sophisticated enough to understand the various titles she had.

She tilted her head at him and chuckled. “He is a hard face to forget once you know him.”

When Nemesis did make his grand appearance she shifted her crimson gaze to him. She jumped off her ladder and came over to him with a big smile as if it were super important. “Just that he is the owner of a Moon Elf relic that was made during the time I was a child. We have agreed to help each other. Him to get his relic back and me to get the information on the Moon ritual which plagues me.”

There was a glare when Sera was brought up. “I think he could take care of her if need be.” It was in jest but in all reality, the look in her eyes spoke no lie. “Story is his name. He is a being older than you perhaps.” There was certainly a mystery to Story that she wanted to unravel.

“Since I cannot travel to the Plains of Bohar anytime soon I shall partake in a partnership of sorts with this man. He might be my only lead for a while.” There was an almost desperate sound to her voice. Though she was trying to hide it. She turned to Story and tilted her head. “Where would you look for your sword? Maybe a clue lies in where you dropped it? Was it stolen? Or maybe a clue lies in the Moon Elf village remains.”

She came over to Nemesis and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Love, you’ve been painting.” She could smell the paints barely. Reaching up she took hold of his collar and gently pulled him down so she could greet him with a kiss. “I hope my trip to the Hoja Mesto didn’t make you worry much.” She rubbed his face softly as she cupped it. She knew that he was protective of her and it made her warm.

“I’m sure he is only staying here until we find a place to search for the sword. No need to make Sera upset about it.” She wanted to calm down any fears in the room. She knew not how Story was beneath the calm demeanor he had. “So tell me your story,” She tilted her head at Story. “At least the most recent. I wish to know more about you and I’m sure my mate would be at ease of me traveling with you for a time.”

Despite the host of the manor choosing not to directly acknowledge him, Story still made his gesture of respect in a courtly bow. Most would take offense or dejectedly fall silent with such reception, but his unbreakable, almost regal calm denoted a presence and confidence that was larger than the room in which they all stood. His soulful, yet secretive gaze looked the man, the creature, this Nemesis over. "I am whatever is necessary at any given time," he remarked ominously in response to the comment about being a librarian.

Story's manner was quite guarded, almost to perfection. As Celeste hung on her lover and explained the details of the situation away with honey on her tongue, however, he could not help but let the corner of his mouth turn up. It was unclear if his amusement was from finding them remarkably endearing, or some sentiment that was more patronizing. It was clear just from his demeanor that he did not care either way what was thought of him or his actions. Being polite was only a force of habit, nothing more. Maybe it was his age showing.

"The sword was taken…a very long time ago," Story mused, nodding to Celeste. He paced around the library in thought. "It is not by any means the most dear thing to me I have ever lost; hence, it has been forgotten for a great while. I was hoping it could still be tracked down…"
Story paused, and chuckled to himself heartily, and also rather darkly. "Though…in truth, there are memories associated with it I hope shall remain buried. I'm not entirely sure what I will find by following the threads."

Seating himself at one of the long tables, Story leaned to one side in the finely-crafted chair and crossed one leg over the other. "What do you wish to know?" he asked. "I am old, and I am a dragon," he stated bluntly. "Not of the ordinary sort, obviously. Most in your court do not have senses aged and attuned enough to ascertain what sort of blood runs in my veins."

Clasping his hands in front of him thoughtfully, he looked to both of them in turn. "Which life's tale would you like to hear? I've as many of those as I have names…which are quite numberous."