The next morning brought refreshment. Iblis found her sleepy sexual session had done wonders for her... with her odd magical skillset, she fed as much off of emotion as anything else, and the ministrations of the two ladies had been more revitalizing than they could have imagined. She was very pleased with the both of them, and kissed and pet them for a time before she rose, in appreciation. Maryabelle had managed to tend to her gear as best she could in spite of the evening's challenges that Iblis had burdened her with, and Iblis was quite proud of her for maintaining her diligence. Despite being the owner of a wealthy home and staff... Iblis found herself in the kitchen early morning, cooking. Her almost living undead servants were now quite capable of eating like normal people, even if they didn't need to, and she'd cook, with a little help, for the entire household. Iblis proved to be as terrifically skilled at cooking as she was at most everything else... she did it as though she'd been several centuries learning the art. Never one to truly forget her humility, she'd have a large table set, and all the household that wasn't on night shifts brought together to eat... as a family. This would give her a chance to get to know them, to address grievances and pressing concerns, and to build trust and support within the community she was building. Everyone, down to the lowliest of servants, was important to her... and though she was only one person, she had the patience and diligence to tend to as many as possible, before other important concerns called to her. She hadn't seen Saul off before, but she was sure she'd be seeing him again soon... after all, her date with the vampire community should be rather prompt now. Her acquiring of a significant amount of power in such a short time put her on the map... she was a player worthy of consideration, literally overnight... an upsetting factor to many in power, ripe for reaping alliance with, and a wild card for those defensive of their possessions to keep an eye out for. Among the elite circles, her movements would most certainly not go unnoticed... she would have to take stock of the enemies she'd earned, as well as the potential allies. There was danger all around, now, and the enemy hadn't even arrived.
Iblis sat at the table, before calling the new family down, her gaze distant, and her mind just as far off. She pinched a napkin between her fingers, rubbing the material, memories drawing her to a dark place. Before the death of Anima, before Diiroehn's rise and fall, before Anima's brief return... things had been complicated. Without an underworld, as the population of the world flourished, things had been hectic, with few soul guides. Anima's centuries long argument with the Gods over the course that death would take, which would prove her ultimate and tragic undoing, was so terribly delayed that the world, for a while, was a hellish place. Iblis remembered some of her earliest work, encountering the most dangerous of undead, her charge before there were ways for mortals to deal with such beings. She remembered caves filled with rot, villages laid to waste by the bloodlust or fury of a single undead, she remembered carnage. She remembered mourning the helpless who fell, some so very slowly... they'd come to her beyond broken, and spent centuries in her darklight, unable to cope with their ends. She remembered... she had explored those ends with them, to help them find closure, navigated their nightmares. Some had been so profound, they'd almost undone her in the early centuries of her work. She remembered pain, screams, howls of anguish, loneliness incomparable. She remembered guilt and regrets, she remembered feeling fear. And she reminded herself that the worst of it, a world driven to death, unable to bear life... was a blessing compared to what the first world would bring. She pinched and rubbed that fabric, and she shivered. She wished she had her darklight.
Iblis blinked, and looked down at her hip where her darklight used to be... and the necronomicon was belted there instead. She almost hissed through her teeth. A tome so powerful had a will of its own... and it wasn't likely to be benign, considering the influences it had likely experienced since she transcribed it. It was going to be... difficult, she knew.
