UNDERNEATH IT ALL, WE'RE JUST SAVAGES | PRIVATE

[Margaery]

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It was not often that Margaery visited her bunker room and didn't tightly shut and lock the door. In fact, this was the first time that it was left wide open, revealing the neatly organized bookshelves lined with artifacts and books from times long ago as well as the chests and crates filled to the brim with god knows what. The owner of the collection herself was situated in the center of the room, her back facing the door as she poured over what looked like a finely aged leather-bound journal of sorts.

It was her father's and in it, it detailed a part of her history that she'd rather forget. But alas, it was almost necessary that she read up on it now. She needed to understand the leeches better and more than that, needed to understand what would soon face her in the future. Soon, she could feel it on the horizon. An impending doom. A dark shadow. A beast made of flesh and blood. Ugh.

Releasing a sigh, Margaery would suddenly slam the book shut, a cloud of dust instantly rising and causing her to halfway cough up a lung. [color=#b14767]"This sucks," She commented idly to herself, [color=#b14767]"And I hate my father so much."

[Pele N. F. I.]

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Pele, tiny as she was, didn't have much history to speak of at the moment. Part of it was lost with her own father, and the other half kept with her mother, whom she never thought to ask. She was a fireball now though, and the savannah supposed this was when history really started being made for most people. With no mentor she was still debating where she would go, along the observer's path or to work even harder and attempt to pull herself up the cleric's.

Bast and Auntie Margy were currently swaying the decision in favor of observer however. It was almost like the two had been subtly bribing the scholar with their vast collections, though she doubted they knew. The child had an eye, and nose, for books which was why she ended up finding herself in Margy's open doorway. She'd been a bit more careful since the fem had gotten pregnant, all the women in her books seemed a tad more easy to anger when they were pregnant. It was really all she had to go off, since this would be her first experience in the subject in the real world.

"Whatcha reading Auntie Margy? I'm assuming nothin' fun?"

[align=center]"SPEECH"『♡』"THOUGHTS"

[Margaery]

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Margaery, not recognizing the voice at first, was met with the strong desire to turn quickly around and throw her book right at the intruder. Nobody was supposed to be here, not even Suite... how could she have been so careless to leave the door wide ope- Oh, it was just Pele. The child couldn't disturb anything really and, as odd as it sounded, Margaery felt almost as if she could trust the Fireball with her vast collection of treasure and antiques from times long ago. It was if her mood did a complete one-eighty, a smile blooming upon once frowning lips as she regarded the child. [color=#b14767]"Some of my father's old ramblings. They're not terribly interesting but they're important," She replied quietly.

Suiteheart would most certainly kill her if she revealed the secret of her past to Pele first and yet, that only made her want to do it more. There was so much potential standing right before her and admittedly, Margaery thought that it wouldn't be fair to turn her away now when she'd already discovered her. [color=#b14767]"Here, shut the door. I'd like to show you some things."

[Pele N. F. I.]

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It wasn't something Pele knew at the time, but sometimes it was easier to reveal secrets long kept to those you knew for a short time and trusted. Those you'd known for what seemed like (or might've actually been) forever, well it was harder because it was a bigger change for how they might see you. A hard thing to explain in words to be sure.

She pulled herself into the room a bit more and reached up to pull the door closed, a soft click notifying her tiny victory. Auntie Margy and Auntie Suite were women of secrets, she'd figured this out as a child, it seemed a lot of the adults here were ones of locked boxes and words left unsaid and unshared. She wondered if that was what came with the pendants, a naive little thought, that they were what gave you your secrets.

Sitting down near her aunt she cocked her head and raised her 'brow' wondering what she had to show.
[align=center]"SPEECH"『♡』"THOUGHTS"

[Margaery]

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[color=#b14767]"Everything within this room belongs to me. All the diaries, novels, pieces of jewelry... you get the point. Each artifact tells a story and the books especially contain firsthand recounts of actual history. I thought you might be interested in reading them one day," She supplied casually, rising from her seat only to return with something that resembled a photo album of sorts. [color=#b14767]"I have lots of pictures too- images that my family captured on some of the first cameras. Take this one, for example," Margaery continued, flipping open the album to a single black and white image of herself, a flower tucked behind her ear.

Pele probably wondered why she was sharing this with her. Or maybe she didn't. Either way, Margaery thought to give her reasons. [color=#b14767]"You strike me as someone who appreciates this sort of stuff, love. I suppose my careless mistake could lead to something quite beneficial, don't you agree? You're free to anything you find in here with permission first, of course. Just do be weary if you intend on waking my photographs, not everyone is aware of how... well, old I am." Her spirit had been preserved for a millennia- it was simply the body that kept changing.

[color=#b14767]"Go on," She urged, [color=#b14767]"Ask questions! Explore!"

[Pele N. F. I.]

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Bast and Margy had been supplying her with books for as long as she could recall. Seeing all of the room's treasures, she wondered if a few of the more...not family friendly fairytales from her aunt had come from this room. She'd read the family friendly versions as well, but the binding was newer, less loved, unlike a few of the books she'd gotten. Some of them she'd been too afraid to open, their spine looking like an autumn leaf. The picture was astounding though, she'd seen little but paintings in her mother's keep and barely had any wall decor of her own. Photographs were still a mystery to one still so young.

Pele rose from her own seat, interested in that which shined in what little light was provided to the room. Sometimes this was gold leaf book titles, other times the flicker of a crystal or gem from some faraway part of the land. Some of these books, like the album Margaery was currenty holding, held photos of old family, scenery and it seemed as though each picture titled with her aunt's name was a different person after a while. It was fascinating, but also a bit frightful, to think that someone could live that long while the world changed around them.

She picked up three things, an older looking necklace, a red bound book (oddly mostly empty), and an oddly carved stick which had caught her eye. She placed them in front of her aunt. "Auntie Margy, what stories go with these? The book's barely written in, and the stick, well it sticks out like a sore thumb."
[align=center]"SPEECH"『♡』"THOUGHTS"

[Margaery]

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Pele was certainly correct in assuming that less family-friendly fairy tales resided within the four walls of her chamber. Unabridged stories of princesses who received an eternity of damnation instead of a true love's kiss and beasts that ended up eating the hero or heroine had all been collected through the centuries, quickly becoming some of Margaery's favorite novels. She knew that those topics were often regarded as morbid, especially when associated with someone as delicate and flower-like as she, but she had never cared too much. She was just as much a monster as the rest of her family- she was allowed to revel in darkness. Margaery's only concern was Pele stumbling across those tales. Luna certainly wouldn't appreciate her young daughter reading and learning about as heavy as subjects as those and, as the child wandered her room, she couldn't help but hold her breath.

Luckily, it seemed as if three other objects had piqued her attention and the Lunar Lieutenant quickly exhaled her trapped breath in relief.  A necklace, an old diary, and a... stake. She studied the latter of the items with a frown, paying close mind to the strange carvings that it bore. Yes, she remembered having to use it once before, her father bidding her to destroy a band of rogue vampires. Perhaps, it would be best to save that story for last.

[color=#b14767]"The necklace was my grandmother's," She began quietly. She hadn't known Esther very well, kept away from her and her fascination with the dark arts by her still very-mortal parents. She knew that it had been her grandmother who originally made them vampires though, selling their souls or something like that to keep her family safe and immortal and practically indestructible. Her father, in a blind rage, had murdered her. [color=#b14767]"She wore it when she attempted to contact our ancestors. She apparently used it to channel some strange power but I admittedly don't know if that's true or not. It was a thousand years ago," She supplied, lips twisting into a frown, [color=#b14767]"Whatever mystical quality it might have possessed has been neutralized now though- if you'd like, you can have it."

Margaery turned towards the red book next, drawing it closer to her to read a few lines. Unsurprisingly, she recognized her scrawling handwriting, though no date could be found in companionship to it. Oh well, she could only presume that this was perhaps two hundred years old. [color=#b14767]"This is one of my old diaries," She began, casually skimming through a few lines before chuckling, [color=#b14767]"We all had aliases at that time, I was known as Genevieve Harper, quite the little diva. I stopped writing in it when that 'life', so to speak, ended. I kept the diary out of loyalty to good ol' Genevieve, though."

Finally, it was time to talk about the stake. She lifted it gingerly, feeling its weight, its heaviness. [COLOR=#B14767]"This, dulcis, is a stake. Traditionally, such is used to kill most every vampire for good, destroying their spirit and sending them to hell," Margaery explained quietly, cautiously. She chose to leave out the part about how the only stake that could kill her permanently was made of white oak and had been lost for centuries. [color=#b14767]"I keep one just in case I need to use it. My family, of course, comes first. Always and forever. Do you have any questions?"