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Vampire Hearts

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The circumstances alone were forbidden - a member of the Horde and Alliance together and seemingly in peace. Strangely enough, it was a father and daughter, though that relationship was merely symbolic and not really by blood. The first was a warlock of the horde, undead and seemingly composed entirely of different body parts sewn together. This made age hard to determine, though there was certainly an odd beauty about him. He was hunched over in his chair, staring with glassy eyes at the female death knight on the other side - who was human, as they both were at some point in time. She in her black plate armor, he in his rags - a broadsword with a layer of frost and a scythe with the aura of fire both hung at the door to symbolize truce. Both also had their minions out, his a heavily armored felguard while hers was a gibbering zombie - very similar in their classes of summoning and control, with slight variations. She spoke.

"Kahlaramah, my father. How I am pleased to see that you still wander these lands. You look so.. weak. How long will you cling to Sylvanus and her lies? She allows you to suffer and be her amenity to enhancer her own beauty in the sewers. How is the Undercity, anyway? As pleasant as I remember?"

The warlock laughed, a raspy hissing sound while taking a sip from his goblet. Both glasses were filled with blood, and each of them had a plate with human flesh on it, cooked slightly.

"Kroan, you have grown up. I remember you, running around in the Warsong Gulch with that foolish little mace, screaming so many obscenities that everyone around you thought you must surely be retarded. Humiliating me constantly with your drunken rampages. Even in the Barrens, where such antics are commonplace, you stood out. You know that I care as little for the Forsaken, or the Horde for that matter, as you do. And you don't care about the Alliance, you just fell in love with that crazy little whore. Chasing her to all ends of the world. You could have kept her company, had you not been so violent. "

She laughed, blue stained lips curling into a cruel grin while taking a sip from her own glass.

"Poor little Necrophagous. Still.. whining, I assume. She was more deranged then I ever could be. She pulled out her own teeth just to impress me, I didn't tell her to do that.. and I am not chasing her. I haven't bothered her in the slightest, she is just.. prone to dramatics."

He snorted.

"Dramatics? You flayed her foot down to the bone. If you aren't over there for her, then why? Are you guilty about all of the people you've killed? Trying to.. atone for it, by massacring your own kind instead? Biting the hand that fed you? We took care of you."

Her laugh was soft, almost angelic though that hint of the sickness that had always motivated her insanties in the past was evident. The cruel grin shifted into a smile that was almost regretful.

"I am there for more then one reason. You helped me, I would never cause you harm. Furthermore.. I have not killed any horde, except for the few that attacked me first. I.. stay out of raids. First and foremost, I surrendered to Arthas out of my own vanity. I could no longer.. stand what I was. I did not want to be rotting and independant."

The subject, like the pairing in the first place - was a forbidden one. A topic of willing submission to the Scourge, as if such an allegiance had been chosen then she certainly couldn't be trustworthy. And she leaned in.

"Why don't you offer yourself to Arthas, father? He can make you better, stronger as a deathknight. And you can break away - his power is waning, he has so many to control..."

He thought about it, stroking his fingertips along his leather masked face. Both of them shared a unique characteristic of having elongated metal claws rather then fingernails, a small bit of evidence of an affinity for bodily reconfigurations.

"Because I do not care, Kroan. You are pretty now, beautiful even. I guess that is what you looked like as a young girl in Stormwind, before the plague. You will always be the vampire, though. You have to feed on flesh and blood to survive, as normal as you might look. You try to escape that, while I relish it. Maybe you choose to draw people in, to make them love you before you devour them. Me.. I just take them. You love the flesh, even though you must inevitably destroy it. I despise the flesh. You are a carnivore too - you just want your prey to love you, and worship you before you take it. Your.. vanity, as you so put it."

She offered no arguement, as her father was for the most part right about how and what she is. She still is unsure as to if she was born this sort of .. monster, or had become it. Kroan is in fact more powerful then Kahlaramah now, and in any sort of normal fight she could probably kill him. But she would never be able to.

"That is in the past, father. I sustain that need by feeding on the dead.. sinners. There are plenty of cruel beings in this world I can massacre without pity. I'll concede that Necro played a part in my schism from the Horde. But again, I do not chase her. I don't blame myself for this decrepit state she is in, either. It was her.. love for evil. I cannot help her, but have no reason to pursue her. My loneliness is soothed for now by another. And this time, I will not let my hunger get the best of me."

Then she paused, draining the glass of bodily fluids while closing her eyes - letting the demon blood take it's toll on her. He just watched, scanning her emotions and body language in a way that only he can, the illegal meeting falling to silence for now - both of them reflecting on the past and what the future will bring for her. An attempt at atonement, or an enslavement to evil. There are two factors - his consideration and intent, and her willpower; which is lacking as she is still childlike, especially now in this time of change.


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