((This was possible thanks to the awesomesauce Kristoph! C: ))
Nikia's bare feet carried her swiftly and quietly over the grass that led her to the Demon House. Once she reached the door to said house, she eased the door open quietly, minding the thermos in her hands that radiated warmth into her fingers. She was guessing, that at this time of day, her mother was wrapping things up, and would be done soon, so she slipped towards the main room, and plopped down onto a couch. There was a glance given to the room around her. Noting that it was empty, she deemed it safe to unscrew the cap to the thermos. She inhaled softly when the coppery rich scent filled her nose, and the small area around her. After moments of appreciation, the thermos was brought to her lips, and partially drained.
No matter how empty an area might appear however, even to vampires" senses, appearances could often be misleading. Sages and philosophers alike would agree that if there is one component that will draw forth spirits - or Demons (though that's a misnomer and Daemon more appropriate) it's Blood. The life is in the blood, and the power is in the blood. And blood calls to them, and their like. But demons, daemons, and undead alike would keep a wide berth of the man who walked the corridors of Demon House - if not for respect of him, respect of the blade upon his back - Justiciar, the Judge.
That which would send them back to where no amount of necromancy could call them forth again. Not that he was seeking confrontation; oh no, quite the opposite.
This day he was still moving keepsakes from his chambers here to his new rooms at House Eternal, where he'd taken over the mantle of Leader. Forgoing the byways of magic, he chose instead the mundane method - at least for the smaller and more manageable objects, savoring the sights and smells of burgeoning springtime across the Coven grounds - especially the roses. Booted feet, encased in soft supple leather, paused as he passed a trail that had just been walked barefoot, and a door left ajar - closing his eyes and inhaling, a slight smile rising on his lips. Someone was brave, powerful, or foolish, to bring open vitae into this place, and he would venture a glance into the room to see the culprit - as his eyes would widen in muted shock. "....Ms. Nikia?" His voice was raspy, he'd been thinking to himself and not expecting conversation, and he cleared it self consciously before continuing, "do you suppose that's wise?" his tone was dry - as fitting for debating wisdom with one so young, perhaps.
Nikia's bare feet carried her swiftly and quietly over the grass that led her to the Demon House. Once she reached the door to said house, she eased the door open quietly, minding the thermos in her hands that radiated warmth into her fingers. She was guessing, that at this time of day, her mother was wrapping things up, and would be done soon, so she slipped towards the main room, and plopped down onto a couch. There was a glance given to the room around her. Noting that it was empty, she deemed it safe to unscrew the cap to the thermos. She inhaled softly when the coppery rich scent filled her nose, and the small area around her. After moments of appreciation, the thermos was brought to her lips, and partially drained.
No matter how empty an area might appear however, even to vampires" senses, appearances could often be misleading. Sages and philosophers alike would agree that if there is one component that will draw forth spirits - or Demons (though that's a misnomer and Daemon more appropriate) it's Blood. The life is in the blood, and the power is in the blood. And blood calls to them, and their like. But demons, daemons, and undead alike would keep a wide berth of the man who walked the corridors of Demon House - if not for respect of him, respect of the blade upon his back - Justiciar, the Judge.
That which would send them back to where no amount of necromancy could call them forth again. Not that he was seeking confrontation; oh no, quite the opposite.
This day he was still moving keepsakes from his chambers here to his new rooms at House Eternal, where he'd taken over the mantle of Leader. Forgoing the byways of magic, he chose instead the mundane method - at least for the smaller and more manageable objects, savoring the sights and smells of burgeoning springtime across the Coven grounds - especially the roses. Booted feet, encased in soft supple leather, paused as he passed a trail that had just been walked barefoot, and a door left ajar - closing his eyes and inhaling, a slight smile rising on his lips. Someone was brave, powerful, or foolish, to bring open vitae into this place, and he would venture a glance into the room to see the culprit - as his eyes would widen in muted shock. "....Ms. Nikia?" His voice was raspy, he'd been thinking to himself and not expecting conversation, and he cleared it self consciously before continuing, "do you suppose that's wise?" his tone was dry - as fitting for debating wisdom with one so young, perhaps.