"You ask about things that are not yours to carry. My art is secret. Sacred. Something only practitioners are allowed to witness." And those dying horribly agonizing deaths as a result, of course.
"If you do not already know, then you are not meant to. And if you are wise, you will not attempt to learn." There is a faint but distant smile upon his lips; it is not threatening, but rather restrained. As if musing over the danger his answer might carry. "Thaumaturgy is a matter of lineage, not curiosity. Be grateful for that distinction."
Indeed, it was the way of blood and the curse his carried. His house's art and the dangerous methods behind it. Outsiders were forbidden. While Crow may have had secrets of his own, Phyre could not control what the House of Tremere would do to the both of them should he let anything slip; it was for both of their own safety that he remained tight-lipped about such things. It would be a shame to see such a lovely creature turned into nothing but viscera.
"Let us speak instead of matters that concern you," he diplomatically redirects, instead seizing on the offer of flirtation. Gently tugging on one of the camels' bridles to bring the wandering creature back in line, he hums before answering the question.
"Boldness is not the same as wisdom," he says with mild amusement playing in his voice. "But... I suppose I can admire the aesthetic choice. Do be careful. People who flirt with me rarely understand what they are volunteering for." Blood. Fangs. The kiss that brings ecstasy and lust-blown eyes between movements and heat. His victims experiencing their last moments in intense sexual pleasure before their eyes close for what might be their final time. That was what lay behind those fearsome, hellish eyes that now take in the grinning assassin whose smile seems as sharp as the teeth below the vampire's lips.
"You would open that door?" The corner of his mouth twitches - not quite a smile, but something lurking there.
no subject
"If you do not already know, then you are not meant to. And if you are wise, you will not attempt to learn." There is a faint but distant smile upon his lips; it is not threatening, but rather restrained. As if musing over the danger his answer might carry. "Thaumaturgy is a matter of lineage, not curiosity. Be grateful for that distinction."
Indeed, it was the way of blood and the curse his carried. His house's art and the dangerous methods behind it. Outsiders were forbidden. While Crow may have had secrets of his own, Phyre could not control what the House of Tremere would do to the both of them should he let anything slip; it was for both of their own safety that he remained tight-lipped about such things. It would be a shame to see such a lovely creature turned into nothing but viscera.
"Let us speak instead of matters that concern you," he diplomatically redirects, instead seizing on the offer of flirtation. Gently tugging on one of the camels' bridles to bring the wandering creature back in line, he hums before answering the question.
"Boldness is not the same as wisdom," he says with mild amusement playing in his voice. "But... I suppose I can admire the aesthetic choice. Do be careful. People who flirt with me rarely understand what they are volunteering for." Blood. Fangs. The kiss that brings ecstasy and lust-blown eyes between movements and heat. His victims experiencing their last moments in intense sexual pleasure before their eyes close for what might be their final time. That was what lay behind those fearsome, hellish eyes that now take in the grinning assassin whose smile seems as sharp as the teeth below the vampire's lips.
"You would open that door?" The corner of his mouth twitches - not quite a smile, but something lurking there.