A cavern deep within the black stoned castle echoes with the footsteps of ten men. The black and white harlequin floors quiver with their shadows that stretch high like the cathedral ceilings above. Crackling lightning sets off in the sky, illuminating the beings more than the faint candlelight along the corridor walls had.
Leading the company is a cloaked figure. He's the oldest of the council, wrinkled and feeble. Like the four directly behind him, his features are hidden by a long black cloak and hood, the customary garb.
This is the Council of Evermore, named after the castle they reside in and attend to their duties. One of these duties are to aid Families in finding a bride. It's a tedious task, but not one they take lightly. Thorough processes are executed to ensure a Family and the bride are happily matched.
Behind the cloaked men, stands a tall fear inspiring creature by the name of Indigo Hawthorne. A long black trench coat covers his suit from another time. The vest buttons gleam gold in the faint light. Sophisticated and a gentleman, Indigo is a formidable sight that stands at nearly seven feet tall. His head is skeletal, that of a deer, with antlers that reach even higher into the air. Their many points scatter outwards. He's an ancient beast, so ancient even he does not remember his earliest years in this world.
Indigo Hawthorne is a creature they never wished to grace their corridors. His reputation isn't exactly a hospitable one and his methods teeter on the edge of breaking the laws that govern their world.
Flanking Indigo on the left is Christian Devonshire, an Omen. A happy smile adorns his handsome face as his steps flourish with a bit of a bounce. Pale blonde hair falls just past his shoulders with a bit of a wave in the locks. Blue violet eyes glimmer joyously as he's been eagerly awaiting this day for a long time.
Flanking Indigo on the opposing side is Corvus Crowe, the Magpie. His watchful dark grey eyes scan the surroundings suspiciously. Raven black hair falls to his neck, fluttering handsomely like the thin feathers of a bird. A single strand of white stains his bangs. Corvus is a wary and brooding sort of fellow without many words he wishes to share with others.
Behind them, standing side by side, are Fakir Norwood and Judas Mortensen. Fakir struts with a grace the others in his company couldn't dream to imitate. His black hair falls like silk to his high cheekbones and into his eyes. A lock of hair, just behind his left ear, falls to his chest over his heart. Today it is wrapped with a white ribbon in a crisscrossed fashion to honor this joyous day. There's a mischievous smirk and sultry eyes on his perfect face. He's a charming and princely sort with a love for mischief. Yet in his glowing yellow eyes is a ravenous desire for what is to come, for unseelie are known to covet their desires above all else.
Beside Fakir stands the gruff and sarcastic Judas Mortensen, the Grim. His shaggy brown hair falls to his ears in his preferred bed head style. A comb is this man's worst enemy. He's foregone his contacts today, letting his ruby red eyes gleam. A more relaxed and unconcerned fellow, Judas appears uninterested in today's events. The slight quickening of his steps is the only inclination that this isn't exactly the case.
This is the shunned and feared family of the Hawthornes, a mismatched group of nothing but the most undesirable sort. Cursed creatures that cause even the most bold in their world to take a step back in their presence. Typically Families are of the same species and do not possess such inhospitable types that could endanger a bride.
This will be quite the job for the Council of Evermore. Finding a bride who not only is compatible with these men, but also strong enough to survive them is quite daunting indeed. They've scrounged this world for any and all souls, not being picky as per usual. They know it'll have to be a rare specimen of a woman to be able to intermingle with such dark beasts and their heinous appetites.
It wasn't until their youngest member mentioned something quite interesting that they rethought their methodology.
"What if she doesn't need to be strong enough? What if she needs to merely be enough?"
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All ten sit around the stone circular table. The Hawthorne family on the opposing side of the Council. Sitting in the middle of his family, Indigo watches them with his void like eyes. Indigo doesn't trust the Council. In fact, he suspects they've simply brought them all here to mock and ridicule.
It is no secret that the Hawthorne family is of the most undesirable sort for a bride. All in their world will pity the girl, a girl damned to the bed of beasts.
Ever the hopeless romantic, Indigo hopes this won't be the case. He dreams of a bride that will see past his hideous curse and love him as he is. If there is such a woman out there in this bleak world, he'll love and cherish her like no other. She'll never have to fear him, he wants her to know that - whomever she may be.
Indigo indeed will treat her like the miracle she is. This is his saving grace, his lifeline. In all his years on this world, years full of fighting for the life of himself and his family, things have become morbid to his mind. He'll even admit he's become nihilistic. He can impress enough the importance of a bride to his Family. Without her, they will disintegrate.
The High Councilmen, a mouthy old bat, stands from his seat.
"I'll ask only once more: Why now? Why at all?"
Indigo grunts in distaste though his expression remains a mystery to all. Skulls do not possess the abilities to grimace or smile and if he has eyes no one can see them, " It is time. Time to fill the cold side of our beds. Time to ease the sufferings of my family who've been alone for too long. Time to offer open arms to a lone soul who needs us as much as we do desperately need them."
The High Councilman stares the Wendigo down, his face unseen from under his cloak.
"You wish to inflict your cursed presence on an innocent for selfish desires?"
Before Indigo can caution him, Fakir is on his feet, slamming his open palms against the stone table," Inflict! Inflict? She'll be more loved than any other bride alive! Call us as you wish, but our bride will never want for anything."
Indigo sighs in exasperation. Fakir is a painfully passionate man with loose lips. His temper, a common trait amongst fairies, will forever be a thorn in Indigo's side. The Fae do not appreciate the subtle art of democratic conversation. Instead, they prefer the rash actions only intense emotions will bring.
Indigo grabs Fakir's sleeve and yanks him down into his seat roughly. The fairy sputters indigently while trying to correct himself in his chair. Indigo ignores him, turning his skeletal head towards the Council.
"Forgive him. He's eagerly awaited this day since boyhood. His mouth on occasion outruns his brain."
Indigo can feel the unseelie's glare aimed at him, but chooses to ignore him. Now is not the time for his dramatics.
The elderly councilmen waves his hand as if to shoo away what'd just happened," No worries, Old One. We can handle tantrums in this chamber. The Unseelie, if anything, alleviated our concerns. You do understand our reasons behind these concerns, do you not?"
Indigo lets his boney snout drop once," I do. There won't be any reason to worry for her safety. We'll be taking extra precautions to avoid the chance of such a disaster."
The elderly councilmen folds his hands into the sleeves of his robe," Eloquently put as always, Old One. However, this is not the time for pretty words. This needs to be approached more bluntly. So I'll ask only once. Do we have reason to fear for her safety? Will we grant you this blessing only for you to devour it?"
Indigo felt his family coil tightly on either side of him, snarls only just repressed. He felt slightly irritable as well, but knew this to be necessary. If they are to revere her as they claim then they should be at peace knowing how careful the Council of Evermore are being with her precious life. This insulting questionnaire is to keep her safe, even from themselves.
Something they all must learn to put as the highest priority.
A bride is nothing to take lightly. Like expecting a child, there is much to prepare for and many sacrifices to be made. No longer can they think only of themselves. Once they've chosen her, it'll be their responsibility to care for her. There will be no more nights of debauchery and indulgence, no more decisions based on self interest.
Everything will be done for her alone after this. Her care and peace of mind will come first. Indigo has repeatedly pressured the others to seriously consider the implications of this decision. Although ready to take this step himself, it takes the entire family being ready to proceed.
Christian and Fakir were the easiest to confirm. This has been their utmost desire for many eras. Corvus and Judas were another case entirely. Corvus is a cautious man, something Indigo has always admired in him. He isn't one to make decisions lightly. That's why when he confirmed his readiness to proceed, Indigo questioned no further.
Judas took a firmer hand. Often one to handle things like a stray mutt, he's one way then another depending on his mood. It took a long time before Indigo felt assured the Grim was ready for the weighty decision. Months, in fact. Indigo is concerned with his tendency to venture off on his own though. Judas has a bad habit of coming and going as he pleases. He can only hope the presence of four others will be adequate enough to distract their bride from the Grim's absence.
Indigo answers the councilman carefully, articulating his words in a way only he can," Those of us who concern you have taken precautions. We've been feeding regularly and will continue to do so unbeknownst to her so her mind remains innocent of the appetites we beasts possess. There should be no concern for her safety or her peace of mind."
There is a long heavy silence that follows Indigo's words. The elderly councilman stares him down hard. Until finally," Then let us proceed."
All once again take their seats. The Hawthorne family tense with gluttonous anticipation. One of the younger councilmen lifts up a hand," We have chosen four candidates you may choose from - Selena, Trinity, Viva, and Delilah. Please note that all of your family must be in agreement on the bride. Once a decision is made, a notice will be put out to alert all of our world to leave her be. She'll be in your care from that moment forward. Whether human or not, she'll be under the protection of our society. This means none may harm or feed from her. You decide the fate of one of these potential brides. Choose carefully, for we cannot force her hand."
The Hawthorne family all lean in. Even the aloof Judas eases forward from his unconcerned posturing.
The youngest councilman gestures towards the center of the table. It melts like water, forming a sort of pond. The waters resemble mercury, fluid and shimmering.
"Behold Hawthornes, your potential brides."