Lord Strahds guest. (Closed for Faerun-girl and I)

[Ravenloft]

It was evening and the sun had set on the lands of Barovia. In a field north of the town proper, a vistani camp had set out their wares and best performers to draw in the curious villagers. A low mist clung to the ground as was common, making it often difficult to find ones footing. Despite the clinging mist, the mood was jubilant as barkers advertised their wares and services and lively entertainment was on display all through the ring of wagons that circled the camp.

A cloaked figure entered the camp and passed by each stall, unconcerned by the men and women calling out for his attention. He moved with purpose to the center, where the highlight of the show was being performed. A strikingly beautiful vistani woman with dusky skin and raven hair was dancing up upon a raised wooden platform.

She was bathed in both the flicker of torch light and the constant glow of the moon as she spun and flicked her hip, tossing her long black skirts just enough to give a brief glimpse of her finely toned legs, a wine red shawl, no doubt made by one of her kin was tied about her waist and gave the curve of her posterior a most fetching swell as she swayed and shifted to the music ker brothers were making for her.

The crowd whistled and hooted exuberantly for her as the stranger made his way to the edge of the stage and watched her dance, silently apraising her from below. His face and form were hidden within his cloak as he stared on, a mystery to the few who took notice of him at all. One of the musician's took note of him and edged toward him, to block him just in case he tried something. But he remained rooted where he was until the performance came to a brief end.

His hands came up from under his cloak, clad in a pair of richly crafted black silk gloves and he clapped exactly three times, sharply and slowly, to show his appreciation for her performance, the action made her brother nearest the man jump, startled.

Without a word, the man turned and started moving toward the vistani matron's vardo, presumably to have his fortune read, only it was not his fortune that was abput to be decided, but the dancing girls...

 

[faerun_girl]

Isopel pictured herself alone, in a grove, her feet on the earth, with not a single stitch of clothing as she danced on the makeshift stage her father and brothers set up for her that evening. She hated these dances, these evenings, where she was forced to perform for a hooting Barovian crowd. She wasn't even good at it!

They always said her dances were weird anyway. Not fancy enough, not enough hip, too much toe, and with her diminutive height and build, she needed to be flashier.

When she digressed, she got a whipping.

So tonight, she danced as they asked her, the sting of the whip and cane still smarting underneath her wine red shawl and the tunic, and she smiled mechanically. She couldn't wait to leave Barovia, even as she always felt like it was a place she lived in before. There was both danger and familiarity here, and she felt too much chaos in the air whenever they stopped by. Tonight was no exception. In fact, she felt it more keenly on the stage, and she knew her awkward dancing would be a subject of reprimand later.

What was it with this place? Why did it feel like the eyes on her were not all what they seemed to be? She felt both the unease and excitement of a coming storm, or a new story by the fire.

Isopel was about to find out what it really was.

 

[Ravenloft]

A young vistani man headed the stranger off on his way to Madam Elsbeth, the seer's vardo. "Hold there, stranger, what is your business here?" He asked suspiciously, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. "I would not if I were you..." the stranger warned, a hint of humor in his dry voice. "I merely seek audience with your seer, it is a matter of some import, if you do not mind. Kindly, stand aside." The stranger glanced up and fixed the young man with eyes that shown like ember coals. It took the barest push of his will to command the simple minded boy and he obeyed promptly.

"...Thank you... you may leave, go, enjoy the festivities, you've... earned it." The stranger whispered as he passed and climbed the steps of the seers vardo. With one light knock, the door swung open freely and the old seer was staring at him expectantly. "So, the cards have spoken..." She hissed. "Madam?" The stranger inquired as he bowed politely, motioning for permission to enter, though it was not needed, these lands were his after all, and by right, he could enter if he so chose, it was merely a show of respect for her and her kind. She grudgingly waved him in and motioned to a seat, sniffing.

"So, I presume you know the reason for my visit?" He asked, rising and throwing back the hood of his cloak to reveal his identity to the old seer. It was non other than the Baron Strahd Von Zarovitch himself. "Your men have hunted my land, your tribe sleeps, bathes and forages my land, you take coin from my people... I think compensation is in order, wouldn't you agree old Elsbeth?" He said as he sat and began flipping cards from the top of her tarot deck, revealing death, death and... death... "hmph, how odd..." he mused at the sight of this imposibility, more curious than worried.

"I offer you a deal... give me the dancing girl for a year and a day and all your debt shall be forgotten... what do you say? Shall I send for her now? Or call for the kargat to come and jail the lot of you in debtors prison? I trust you to make the right choice." Lord Strahd sat back and crossed his legs, steeping his fingers in wait for the madam's answer.

 

[faerun_girl]

The old madam was silent as the Baron made his little speech, postured on his own land to a woman who truly did not stand a chance against him. She was old, and her deck of cards showed her all she needed to know. Her cards rarely spoke to her now and most of her readings were simply exercises in astute observation and conjecture--but sometimes, it did its job, and tonight it decided to do so to an immortal non-paying customer. Death.

How convenient. But Elsbeth knew better than to challenge the Baron, even after all these years of her trying to steer the course of her grand niece away from her Fate. She thought she had more time, and that perhaps she had read her cards wrong all those years ago--but no longer.

Here was the crossroads, and there were the signs. If she did not "give" this monster Isopel, he would just take her. If she did "give" him the girl, Isopel would be lost. Still, the woman believed in a Fate that did not lead to death--at least not for a very long time.

Isopel had been written in the cards as someone who would be lost, but would return. But to whom? To where? How? So many questions, and all she had to go with was a posturing Barovian lord.

With her small frame, stubborn countenance but keen intellect, the old woman knew her grand niece was just barely vistani. She shouldn't have even been born. But for some reason, a barren woman had conceived and Isopel appeared.

In the end, Elsbeth certainly had no choice. No matter how special the girl was, her life was not worth that of the whole caravan, and some of them did not have Fate written in their cards.

Still, she would not make it easy for Strahd.

"We have many dancing girls, Baron, and I appreciate your generous offer. In fact, you deserve all of them for such a generous gift to us lowly vistani! That is, if you can tell me which one you would like. By name as well. Otherwise, it shall be up to me to tell you who your dancing girl would be to take into your magnificent castle."

She croaked out the last two words, knowing what was inside his palace and what roamed there.

"Or you could take me, and I would clean and cook and dust your palace for you all day long."

 

[Ravenloft]

Lord Strahd smirked. "Her name is Isopel, born to a barren woman. Did you truly think I would not know? She will suffice... Oh, don't diminish yourself or your kind, contrary to what you might believe, I envy your freedom to come and go as you please, but ask yourself, why do you return to Barovia so often? You may send for her now, or... shall I have her brought to me?"

Lord Strahd narrowed his eyes and deepened his grin at the tone of Elsbeth's voice as she referee to his home. "Castle Ravenloft. Named after my mother, as well you know. I am sure that you're great great grandmother told you the stories of her great beauty? They were friends after all."

Lord Strahd regarded Madam Elsbeth with a peculiar look at her offer. "Mmm, tempting offer, but something tells me that you haven't been take in so long that you would not be able to handle it. Isopel, on the other hand..." Strahd wet his lips and smiled. "Oh, don't fret, I will show your grand daughter every kindness, I can assure you, she will want for nothing."

With that, Lord Strahd rose from his seat and produced a pristine platinum coin stamped with his Visage upon it. "For the tarot deck that I spoiled..." he placed it on top of the deck which sizzle and popped with a slight puff of smoke at his final touch. "Hmph, how odd..." he sighed, almost as if he were bored of such strange occurances. "Make her ready, I will send a carriage for her tomorrow at dusk. Do not make me wait Madam Elsbeth."

 

[faerun_girl]

Isopel could not stand it one moment longer. She swore that there was something in the air, like a menace--or a storm. She couldn't tell, as she did not have the Sight as other women in her caravan, nor did she have the insight or patience to learn their trade with the Cards.

Great fool that she was now.

Once her embarrassing number on their makeshift stage was done, her small, lithe body made its way to Maman Elsbeth's caravan, to ask her for a reading--so she at least knew if she should hide out in the family wagon (or never go back there again).

Her father and brothers had been increasingly strict as of late, and found fault in everything she did. While she certainly could not blame them, being the reason her mother had died, she thought that other girls in the caravan definitely had it better than her. Better clothes, larger meals, and less chores. She could also attribute that to the fact she was the youngest child of seven, the only girl--and that her next eldest brother was fifteen years her senior. She was the only female in her family, so most of the work did go to her.

Still, that was no reason for them to be especially hard on her. Like a pack of angry hyenas, they seemed to snarl every moment of every day. It was tiring--but it was home.

She found that Iosef wasn't there are the steps guarding the old dam, but he may have slunk off somewhere to grab a pint. He's been known to be lax. She looked around and started up the steps, only to hear the door creak open on its own, and a hooded stranger in expensive-looking boots and clothing appear. She thought she heard a wolf howl in the distance.

She backed away immediately, knowing she was not allowed to speak to anyone outside the caravan yet at her tender age. She moved away, and bowed her head, making sure not to make eye contact.

 

[Ravenloft]

Lord Strahd froze at the door as Isopel appeared. "Ah, speak of the devil..." he muttered, taking in the sight of her as one of his loyal pack no doubt howled in the distance. She acted so timid before him but he was bold enough to caress th line of her jaw and whisper so that only she could hear. "Be seeing you soon, little one..." his silk tipped fingers ran over her skin smooth as ice as he dared her to look him in the eyes.

He sniffed dismissive of her shyness, he would have to break her of that, he hated being toadied to, his command might be the law of the land, but cowardice was worse than death in his mind. "I leave it to you, Madam, prepare Isopel for her journey." With that, he withdrew his hand from her skin and departed into the dark of the night and mist. A cloud of bats bursting from the dark where he had been, flying across the moon toward the castle that arched over the land like a hawk watching it's prey.

 

[faerun_girl]

Isopel waited until the stranger would walk away, trying to make herself as small as possible. What awful timing! If her father or brothers saw her interacting with such a person right now, the whip would be the least of her worries later. If she ran, he might think she had stolen from him, if she stayed and he spoke, she might be caught and punished later.

Another day in the life of the unluckiest vistani girl. And to think she was going up to Maman Elsbeth to change her luck.

When she felt the stranger's silken glove touch her face, she was not afraid. No doubt he had watched her dance, and perhaps had asked the old dam for an audience--which she knew would get rejected.

Still, she worried that her family might see this exchange. She certainly hoped not. She did not need a flogging two nights in a row.

She heard the strange man's whisper, and thought it was too bad that she was only required to dance that night. She had fulfilled their family's quota of pretend festivity for the locals. She was not going to dance again anytime soon. Too bad for him.

She felt the presence leave, and for some unholy reason her hand reached out where he had stood, as if to call him. As if she knew him.

She shook herself and rubbed her arms and headed up to speak with old Maman Elsbeth on the subject of her luck.

 

[Ravenloft]

Once the Baron had left, Elsbeth let out a ragged sigh of relief, eyeing the damn able platinum coin that had burned into her tarot deck. She pushed the lot into a drawer and closed it as Isopel entered. "My dearest grand daughter! You look chilled, here, take my shawl!" She offered her lacey black shawl to her with a wrinkled smile, fighting back tears as she did, dreading what she must do for the sake of the family.

"You look troubled, has your papa been at you with his belt again? That boy has always been too stern on you... I tried to teach him well but he has too much of his father in him... I have some ointment to sooth the pain, I can tend to you, if you like." She was only putting off the inevitable, but if this was the last night she could show her grand daughter how much she cared, she would do her all to show her.

"No... I can see in your eyes... there is something else... Troubling you... here, have some tea with me and we can talk." She turned away to set a kettle to boil

 

[faerun_girl]

Isopel almost wanted to run back to her father's wagon, even if she knew that what awaited her was a whipping like no other. They didn't say anything, but she knew the blamed her for the stranger's threat, asking for her specifically in exchange for the whole caravan's freedom.

But who wanted her to dance on the stage? Who told her to dance that accursed routine? Didn't they? So why was it her fault that when she finally did as they told her?

Isopel was used to injustice--she was a vistani, they ate that for breakfast. But when that sort of thing happened within her own family, that's when it stung.

She tried to stop the tears from falling as she made her way to Castle Ravenloft, where Maman Elsbeth had told her to go. She wanted to run back, if only to knock something on her father's head and kick her brothers in their faces. How dare they? After all she'd done for them and all she was willing to do.

She hoped they drowned in the river when they washed their own smallclothes.

Isopel didn't notice the menacing, doomed aura of the place, where the high rock of Castle Ravenloft rose in the air, the tops covered by low clouds and mist. The stark bleakness was lost to her as she tried to come to terms with the fact that her family might never love her after all, and that the year and a day in this new place would not endear her to them due to absence and distance.

The trek was going to be intense, and the location of Castle Ravenloft was simply too senseless to Isopel. High on that desolate rock, it was a forbidding figure against the night sky indeed. But it wasn't that scary when it compared to feeling she was completely alone in this world. No matter the castle had stood for centuries and was the seat of power, it was just another place for Isopel to sit down and contemplate why the circumstances of her birth made it so her own family cast her out.

She clutched her worn satchel to her body, and she realized the trek would destroy her shoes. She saw that on the side of the road, some grass still grew, albeit sickly, so she would stick to the trees, and as long as she kept the high tower in her sight, she would get there eventually. The sun had just passed its high noon journey behind the heavy clouds, and she had all day.

Perhaps a year and a day may not endear her to them, but at least no one in the castle knew her enough to ask why she wanted to cry.

 

[Ravenloft]

A carriage drawn by a pair of powerful Friesian horses approached down the road, chuffing and shaking their wild manes as they clopped closer and closer. No driver piloted them and the metal carriage was made of lacquered black wood and polished black metal. As if sensing her near by, the horses stopped near by... even stranger, the carriage door unlatched and slowly swung open, an invitation to enter. The interior was coated in a richly dyed, plush red velvet, the seats and backs were stuffed and cusioned. A note rested on the seat, bearing the Baron's wax seal.

No one came out of the carriage and the horses, lacking a driver, began to graze on grass as they awaited... her? Glancing her way between mouth fulls of sweet grass, patiently awaiting her approach. Although no one else was around, it felt as though she was being watched. A distant howl of a wolf broke the silence, nothing else stirred, no bird song, no chirping of frogs, just the whisper of the winds through the trees. It was eerie and tense and the moment seemed to drag on for an eternity.

 

[faerun_girl]

The feel of the grass under her bare feet was some comfort, as it always was, even if the grass here was sickly and frankly quite gray. She'd never been close to Castle Ravenloft before, so she thought that this was a special grass that grew around the area. Things were quite strange around Barovia, with reports that the Lord of the land was murderous autocrat.

This vistani girl found that quite amusing, as all Lords in all the lands were murderous autocrats as long as they were paying attention to her people. He would be no different from the rest--except for the ridiculously inaccessible castle.

She remembered what her Maman Elsbeth said last night, on her agreement with the stranger that had left her wagon. She was to stay in Barovia for a year and a day, to serve the Lord of the land. He must have watched her dance and thought it would be entertaining to have that forsaken routine all to himself. What rot.

Knowing these "Lords" she would have probably be on her way home in a week. She only knew that one dance, so that would get old really quick.

She felt more than heard the knicker of horses, and turned to the road, seeing the ornate carriage arrive. She looked around, thinking someone might be injured and the horses had wandered away. She called out. "Hello? Are you all right?"

Only a wolf answered. But it sounded near.

She checked which tree she could climb in case one did appear, and saw she had an escape plan. She approached the horses, admiring their grooming and coat. They seemed cold, though, lacking that fierce warmth she always associated with horses. Still, they did not seem mistreated or in distress.

Being a complete failure as a vistani, she only looked inside the carriage, and saw the note on the seat. She frowned, but left it there. How careless of the owner. That could be important.

She was getting hungry, though, so she moved to the front of the carriage and used her lithe strength to get up on the driver's seat, deciding to keep the horses company while she had her meal.

She was polite enough to close the carriage door.

 

[Ravenloft]

The note on the seat was addressed to Isopel, but she left it where it lay.

No sooner did she climb into the drivers seat than did the horses respond and turn back toward the castle, dutifully driving her onward, to her fate. Her grandmother had snuck a package into Isopel's pack, full of her favorite treats and a hand full of purifying herbs, it was the least she could do to show her love.

It took a couple hours to arrive at the bridge to Castle Ravenloft and the drawbridge was already down, in anticipation of her arrival. The carriage drove on, over the creaky old bridge, clearing it without incident. The moment the carriage was across, the wrought iron chains clank ed to life and the bridge was drawn up, leaving her no way to turn back now. Trotting into the main courtyard, the Friesian horses stopped and went back to scrounging for what grass they could find.

No one was there to receive her, but the main gate was up and torch light flickered just within.

 

[faerun_girl]

Somewhere behind her, on a place she had let her bare foot feel the ground, a flower grew. It wilted immediately, but its corpse littered the wind.

=========================

When the carriage jerked forward and the horses seemed to know the way, Isopel considered hopping off. What if someone found her and beat her for stealing the horses? But as time went on, and not a soul was in sight, she decided to stay, since the direction they seemed to be taking was the right one. It would be a simple matter to get off and continue on foot if they veered away.

But was her luck changing when the gates of forbidding Castle Ravenloft appeared before her, the clouds hugging the battlements? She couldn't see anyone else, and the drawbridge was down. This was a very careless Lord indeed.

The courtyard was bare, littered with refuse, and did not have anyone to receive her. Why didn't this man request for ALL the vistani girls? She couldn't possibly clean all of this--even with a year and a day!

Isopel vaulted over the driver's side in one leap, her bare feet hitting the ground. She hissed--forgetting to put on her shoes. Now, she had some scrapes on her foot. Here, there was no grass and sky seemed farther up than it was this morning, which was ironic since she was supposedly atop the highest point in Barovia.

Torches flickered nearby, and she made her first steps in Castle Ravenloft, for her service of a year and a day.

 

[Ravenloft]

Within was the main hall and throne room of castle Ravenloft, the room was illuminated by torch light as decades of neglect had left a thick layer of dust and grim blot out almost all outside light from passing through the ornate stained glass windows that were once a proud depiction of Lord Strahd's conquering army. There, in the dim light, on his throne, sat the Baron, with a goblet of wind held in his palm, casually stirring it with a slow roll of his wrist, his legs crossed as he watched her enter.

"Welcome to Castle Ravenloft, Isopel, I trust the journey here was a pleasant one? I see my carriage got you here in one piece. I am having a meal prepared for you if you would care to eat." He snapped his fingers and a man responded, no, it was an elf... pale and silent. "Jander will take your things to your room. Come forward and let me look at you." He instructed, leaning forward in his throne, his eyes gleaming in the torch light.

"You are every bit as beautiful as I remember... Dance for me." He commanded, taking a sip from his goblet.

 

[faerun_girl]

To say that Isopel felt the Threads of Fate tied her to this man, to this moment would be an understatement. They veritably strangled her, as the pale Lord on his throne took her breath away.

There was an ache in her heart she did not understand, and she thought she heard a man crying from far away, and heard the sound of a body hitting the ground at the same time.

She found herself nodding woodenly, as if she was someone else, not herself, not happy, never happy and never free--as if she was only looking at herself as she began the dance her father and brothers told her to dance the night before.

It was the reason she was here anyway.

Isopel doffed her cloak and her shoes, and asked in a voice that felt like it was not her own, as her body and mind felt like it was moving through molasses, like someone had made everything slower just at the moment the Threads closed in on her. Whatever dark thing lived in Barovia, it was here with Isopel right now and had her in its thrall.

"The music, my lord." she said in a dead voice, and she assumed the starting pose, her belly exposed, hands poised, standing on one foot.

 

[Ravenloft]

Lord Strahd could feel the lack of passion in Isopel's voice as she asked for music, stopping her with the raise of his hand. "No, not like that... not that routine. Dance from your heart, from your soul, let me see your spirit, girl. Not some show designed to please men... Dance just for me." He warned her, snapping his fingers, causing a pipe organ to come to life somewhere in the dark, issuing long, low tones for her to move to. "Let yourself go..." he urged her as he leaned back, hiding his face in shadow once more, knowing he could not hide the feelings she stirred up within him. A chorus of stringed instruments acompanied the organs lamentations in an achingly beautiful, nameless piece of orchestra for her to dance to.

 

[faerun_girl]

When the Baron snapped his fingers, it was like Isopel had been hooked out of a lake. She felt like she was pulled collar-first out of a dive, and something in her heart stirred. She heard his arrogant demand, but what called to her most as if to yank her out of a disturbing trance was that she dance as she wished to.

No one had ever asked her that before.

For this, she needed no music, because the Valley in her mind never let her forget what it felt like to dance on one of the last green places in Barovia. Her body moved now, without guile, without seduction, only to a rhythm that she could hear in her head.

The invisible orchestra faltered for a few beats, but once the movement of her hands and feet picked up, the players found her melody. What it was, she wouldn't know, because she didn't hear. What Strahd heard and saw the night Isopel came to him when he asked her to dance was a thing only he could ever describe.

Isopel danced the secret song of trees lost, of flowers never grown, of green, earthy things that have long since gone from the land. She danced of death and undeath, and made it beautiful--and also full of sorrow.

When she was done, her eyes were clear, her breath came fast, and her clothing had been divested, leaving her in bindings that allowed her to move as she pleased. Her pert breasts strained against the bindings as she gulped in breaths, and her body felt the wondrous strain of being put through marvelous stretching. At some point, she must have jumped and been on her tiptoes, as her large toe and soles hurt. She was covered in sweat, her hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead, and her complexion showed the flush of health and exertion, despite the cold that would no doubt make her sick any minute now.

She looked up at the Lord on the throne and saw his face hidden in the shadows. She wasn't ashamed of how she just danced, but she knew no one liked seeing it. No one ever liked anything she did at all.

She calmly collected her clothing and slipped into the tunic. She clutched her cloak to her and bowed at the waist to the Lord.

"Is that to your satisfaction, my Lord?" she asked, still panting.

 

[Ravenloft]

The change in Isopel was profound, to say the least, like seeing color for the first time after being blind from birth. Was she truly herself of was something else in posession of her body? Lord Strahd was not sure... Life flowed through her as she moved, like she was a force of nature. Was he seeing things or was healthy, green grass sprouting from the cracks in the stone floor where she danced? Her hair seemed to flow like it was submerged in water and she performed movements that seemed to defy gravity. It was mezmerizing, and Lord Strahd stared in awe.

The sorrow of her dance washed over him like an old familiar friend and he let out a shuddering sigh. At some point, he was not sure when, she had disrobed, bathing her lithe body in torch light. The sight of her took his breath away, she was flush with life and the exertion of her dance. "Magnificent..." He breathed, stunnned. "Where did you go, just then, I wonder? Somewhere far away it seemed..." He cleared his throat and motioned for her to approach as she clothed herself against the cold.

"Satisfaction... Yes, you could say that... One of my hungers has been sated... But there are others that must be slaked now... My curiosity for one... Where did you learn to dance like that? Come, take dinner with me in the dining hall... I want to learn more about you, Tatya...." Lord Strahd paused and shook his head. "Isopel... Forgive me... Come, join me! The food is rich and warm, the wine is sweet and potent. I trust you must be famished."

"After dinner, I will have my servant draw you a hot bath and show you to your room. I am sure you must be exhausted after... Your performance." Did she even know what she had done? Drawing forth green grass from nothing, through dead stone no less? There was more to this young woman than was obvious.

He met her in the dining hall and had a plate made for them both, but he merely picked at his own, preferring to stay in his cups. "Try the wine, it is sweet and sultry." He suggested as he rolled his goblet in his hand and watched Isopel as she was seated and served. He watched her eat intently, focusing on her lips as she took each bite.

 

[faerun_girl]

The vistani girl became wary when the pale Lord praised her dancing. Was he actually blind? But she saw his fearsome irises that seemed to glow red look into her own--and knew he was not blind. But he liked it?

What could such a powerful Lord gain from toying with a lowly vistani girl like her who did not know how to dance?

She bowed deeply and collected herself, following his order and following him to dine. The food was rich and Isopel realized she felt an intense hunger after her dance, and she may be embarrassing herself with how she ate. Using her hands, she tried to eat with as much cautious grace as possible, but that would not do with the wine and the rich food.

It still felt awkward when he ate so little.

"It is just how I dance, my Lord, when I am alone. Of my own making. It is not usually for public performances." she said quietly, eating on his right side on the long table. Her bare feet were very dirty and her hair still stuck on her face from her exertions. She looked like a savage next to his pristine outfit and perfectly-coiffed hair.

"But if that is what you require aside from my other duties, I will oblige you, sir." she said, then hissed a little as she had bitten her tongue while speaking, a sign she was nervous.

She tasted blood.

She frowned, dismayed that she would be feeling a sore for the next two days, and she stuck her finger in her mouth to check. There indeed on her fingertip was a stain of blood mixed with her saliva.

She wiped it on the side of her skirt.

 

[Ravenloft]

Lord Strahd felt a wave of desire wash over him as Isopel bowed, wanting to know every inch of her body, now that he has seen her naked. Dispite the full set of utensils at her disposal, she ate with her hands which was oddly charming, the way she tried so hard to remain dainty about the whole affair. With the slightest of smirks, he cleared his throat and considered showing her the presence of the utensils, but instead, he decided to you see his fingers as well.

Removing his right gloves he took up a pinch of the marinated roast beef and popped it into his mouth. "Delicious, is it not?" Hoping it made her feel more at home "well then, I am honored to have seen such a private expression of your spirit. It was thrilling, fascinating, powerful. I would see more..." Lord Strahd was confused by Isopel's next statement. "Duties?" But before he could explain she was a guest, not some servant, Jander entered and came over to whisper something to his lord. He placed a note on the table and left.

Lord Strahd had not seen that Isopel had bitten her tongue. "You did not read your note?" He asked, mildly vexed, pushing it toward her, he had no idea she was illiterate. He sniffed, was that the scent of blood on the air? He sniffed his goblet, it was not the same, no, this was sweeter than the contents of his cup. "Are you injured, Isopel?" He asked, concern in his voice.

 

[faerun_girl]

When Isopel looked up and saw that Lord von Zarovitch had used his hand to eat, she felt a bit calmer, and was glad her way of eating was accepted in this high castle. She still didn't let down her guard. As her father and brothers said, she could be beaten and blamed for every little thing lost in the place. But upon seeing the state of disrepair, it was difficult to see how she could be blamed for anything lost.

"Y-yes, my Lord. My brothers and father had told me I was to serve for a year and a day here, so that my family can continue on their way and their business." she said quietly, after swallowing some of the beef.

When Isopel saw the note shoved in her direction, she blushed intensely, the red stain reaching down below her collarbone. Her embarrassment was complete and utterly demoralizing. Hearing the impatience in her new Master's voice as well made her scared. But as no one ever taught her how to read (not even the Tarroka), she couldn't even tell which side of the note was up.

"I--I am unable to read it, my Lord. I apologize." she said, and there was nothing else for it. The words she spoke caused her to feel the place where she had bitten her tongue, and her hand came up to her cheek.

"It is nothing my Lord, I simply bit my tongue a moment ago." sensing that trouble may be brewing, she wanted to leave, despite enjoying a little how nicely the Lord treated her. He wasn't frowning until he saw the note and he even liked her dance. It was odd, but what her people said about this Lord seemed true--he was their ally and they had nothing to fear from him.

She saw more kindness at this table than she had at her own family's vardo for the past few months. At least she hadn't been beaten yet.

"If your manservant Jander would be able to tell me my duties, I would get to them immediately after I change my attire in my room."

 

[Ravenloft]

"Your father... and brothers... we're incorrect in their assumptions then..." he paced his words to hold back the fury in his heart at the misinterpretation of his intentions. He thrummed his unclad finger tips upon the sealed note to her impatiently.

He saw Isopel's blush and his mouth watered at the sight of it, by the gods, she was delectable! Her answer caught him completely by surprise. "Why not? You can read, can't you?! Your father or your brothers taught ypu how, did they not?!" He froze, seeing in her timid fear, the answer. "Then I will teach you..." he vowed, slipping from his seat and taking a knee by her side as she held a hand to her cheek.

"Let me see" he ordered, bringing his bare hand to her chin, leveling his eyes upon her lips. Upon seeing the broken skin on her tongue, he smiled slightly, wanting to kiss her, not one of the women who were Tatyanna reborn had ever let him this close to them before without screaming...

"Here, chew upon this root and it will sooth the pain and encourage your body's natural healing process." He offered her a dry black root from his breast pocket. "It is bitter and unpleasant to the taste, but I promise you, it will help.

At her request for duties, lord Strahd closed his eyes and sighed with impatience. "Very well, if you require a duty to perform, I would have you educated. Meet me in the library, I will tutor you in the written word."

 

[faerun_girl]

Isopel almost asked for forgiveness for her father and brothers when she saw Strahd get angry, about to defend her family for not taking the time to teach her how to read. It really wasn't their fault--she couldn't blame them if they always saw her as the reason their mother died.

"M--my Lord, it would be too much of an impo--" she was about to say, but was halted by how close he was to her, and how her heart beat wildly in her chest. At the back of her mind, she did hear a woman scream and a man weeping, but all that was chased by the beauty of Strahd's face.

It was stark, and certainly not one you would call classically handsome. He was even worn, but she saw that his eyes held so many stories--stories she would like to know.

She was incredibly touched with how he handed her a remedy for her mouth, and she bit on it immediately. It wasn't as bitter as he said, she was used to eating worse--especially out in the wild, or when her father and brothers didn't like her enough that day to feed her well.

She had no choice but to agree with his declaration, as she was sent to obey him in all things while she was here. If she was getting reading and writing lessons out of it, she would not say no.

"Y--yes my Lord, I will. Please allow me to fix my clothing before you teach me. I would very much appreciate that." she blushed again, this time unable to hide a smile. The scream in her mind sounded very far away, and was only a curiosity when faced with this gentle Lord.

 

[Ravenloft]

Lord Strahd stared piercingly into her eyes, arching an eyebrow as Isopel began to decline his offer. Something halted her and he smiled, patting her hand, rising to his feet offering her his hand, his naked hand at that.

That she did not retch or gag over the taste of the root impressed him. Was she so used to bitterness? How he would spoil her if she let him! "Of course, take all the time you need, Jander will show you to your room. There are a number of fine dresses for you to chose from in the wardrobe as well as what you brought with you." He could not resist touching the blushed of her cheek before he left her, smiling to himself.

As he walked through the castle to the library, he wondered what other abuse she must have suffered at the hands of her father and brothers. If they had ever laid a hand on her he would likely cut them off... and if they had very dared to rape her of her purity, he would most certainly flay them alive! Whatever they may have done and he suspected it was much, they were going to pay for it soon...

While he waited for Isopel to arrive, he wrote an order for her father and brothers to be brought before him in chains within a fort night. He sent a courier off to deliver the order, addressed to Madam Elsbeth, the only one he trusted to do as he commanded.

With that order of business out of the way, he got up and began pacing the stacks, wondering what sort of material would interest a woman like Isopel. She did not seem the type who would enjoy the nonsensical whimsy of fairy tales nor, the dryness of history... he was at a complete loss as to what to chose to spark her interest in reading and it vexed him. He could usually read people so well...