In the backwoods, Sangterre Region.

Having found that the five Seekers were in a deep sleep, Syuzanna decided to stay a while, lest any harm come to them. Confirming that they would not wake up, she shrugged, and went about her business, staying alert for trouble. Kneeling in the Ritual Circle, she felt connected somehow, and the feeling needled at her curiosity. She performed several small tests and took notes in a small book. Weak moonlight did little to hamper her efforts. The contents of the cauldron were quite intoxicating, and to her vague disappointment, soon little. Her thirst however was sated, and she found the cool, quiet night helped her concentrate.

The five companions slept on, with strong, even breathing. Their heartbeats hardly disturbed her attention, little more than a reassuring rhythm on the edge of her mind. Though, she was interested in the "Soul Sand" that Cecil had told her about. Approaching the sleeper, she nudged him gently. He hardly even stirred. She would have asked him again, perhaps offered a trade, but unfortunately the talkative reporter was silent. Deciding upon a fair trade, she carefully removed his bandage, and took a tiny pinch of the strange dust. It tasted...like sand, actually. Disappointment. Making sure the rest was securely bound and that he was not in any danger, she re-tied the dressing.
"Weel, wat deid yu theenk eet wuld tayst lyke, hmm? Wat deid yu expekt?" she murmured.

The hours drew on and the night grew darker. Soon she would need to move. She took the small bottle of red liquid, and the note she had written earlier, and tucked those into Cecil's good hand. Realising the night had almost passed her by entirely, she cursed. Now there would be no time for her other plans.
The others would have to wait...but perhaps there was a way to solve one problem...
A short while and some emotional concentration later, she was done. Placing a warrant in the hand of each of the sleepers, Syuzanna vanished into the night. As to her plan, only time would tell.

She resolved to return tomorrow night, after the festival had concluded.
Perhaps she would be able to discover the events of the day from what had been left behind.

### If you were at this event and did (or want to have done) anything the next day, (especially something that could be found afterwards) now is a good time. ###

[Immediately after time out on day 2]
As the rainfall steadily grew heavier, the Seekers began to return to the Airship, preparing for the voyage home. Soon they would be drying off in the sun's rays above the clouds, travelling on a round-Xenos route to be dropped off at their respective guildhouses.
But as the majority of the Seekers headed towards the Rescue, a few of their comrades hung back, looking at the bloody corpses of the Iritan Count Pedro Ramirez and reporter Cecil Osthorpe. Captain Seamus O'Malley was the first to speak.
"You know, this rainfall isn't going to let up anytime soon, we should probably do something with these bodies before they get too damp and start smelling. I don't think we should leave that for the poor villagers."
He looks over Pedro's orange-clad form.
"He was a paladin, after all. We should pay our respects to his patron and wish him passage into the Golden Palace. And as for Cecil, I think it was that blood that sent him into that craze, but it doesn't seem like he's going to be getting up any time soon. What's done is done, but I sure as Vor'Shel am not taking those back onto my ship."
He hunches over the count's body, grabs him under the shoulders and begins to drag his body away from the village, hoping someone will join him and do the same for Cecil.

"Well... This new feather is a nice gift, I suppose you should get a proper burial in return... I hope your peace was made with the Wise One, mind."

Divah shifted the dead-weight of Cecil onto his back and started taking him to a suitable location, away from civilisation and into the forest, settling on a particularly pretty patch of Lemon Balm; The leaves cast shadows over most of the forest floor, this being one of the few spots where cracks of the midday sun shone, the plants sparkled from the moisture of last night's rain.

--

It was a shame to have to trample almost all of the plants, but Divah still laid the rather cryptic and sometimes very irritating character on top of them, wrapping a single set of balm leaves in his hand. Divah found a log to sit on and began to write a note in some of his spare green paper, tucking it in the reporter's notebook, nestled into what he could only assume was a water-tight pocket, why else would he keep his notes there in this weather?

letter:

Divah was always an optimist to the Seekers, so he refused to carry about a shovel, thinking it was a sign of disrespect to those he worked with if he expected to bury any of them. At the same time, no-one would know if he had notes for a funeral in his book of shadows, so he could still give some spiritual closure to the dead... if the Wise One would take them. Knowing this would be the last thing he needed to cast, he poured what energy he had left into drawing on his connection with the Wise One.

"Lestra Garas Krastpa kra'ila,
ee zernae dopa doma kravoyela,
past stanye ehn agravin vani
deff stakjan vani deff krastl'ai yamla"

OOC commentary and rough translation:

Divah let the words carry through the forest before leaving the reporter to his peace, almost finding a clarity in himself; though it was probably just the plants that he'd been in no more than a few seconds ago, they were a key ingredient in his healing salves so perhaps they'd do something for him, the issue of collecting specimens to work with wasn't that important either way, he could always snip some from his garden back in Tion.

After seeing his companion's rather strange yet tranquil "burial", Seamus felt as though he should do more than just dump Pedro's body in a shallow grave. He thought aloud:
"He was a paladin of the Sun King, he needs to be buried in the open, where the sun's rays can reach his resting place."
With that remark, he scanned the nearby area, and his eyes fell on a slightly raised clearing. As he carried the body up the grassy mound, he noticed a nearby pile of rocks on the treeline, possibly a ruin of some old building. Laying the count's body atop the mound, he searched through the rocks and found a large, flat stone.
"Perfect..." Seamus mumbled to himself.
Once back on the top of the mound, Seamus began digging with the stone next to Pedro, stopping when about 3ft deep and he felt he could dig no further with the crude implement he was using. Carefully, he lowered the corpse into the hole and filled it back in. Finally, h brushed off the dirt from the stone and laid it at the head of the mound. The captain then drew his dagger and carved into the stone a rough Sun King symbol and the name: Count P. Ramirez.
Kneeling beside the grave, he uttered a short prayer.
"Look, your Holy Magnificence, I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, and I have been more of a follower to your brothers than to you, but this man was your paladin, and as far as I knew, he stayed true to your tenets. He was courteous, loyal and just in his judgement, so I ask you judge him well when his soul reaches the Upper World. May his soul live eternally in your golden halls."
With that, he stood, joined Divah and began heading back to the Rescue.

Syuzanna awoke shortly after sunset, and made her way back towards the Seeker guarded Queen's camp.
It appeared that the festivities had ended, and it was mostly noteworthy by it's absence. There didn't seem to be anyone around.
There were signs of the day's passing, and she queitly spent a short while divining what had occurred during the daylight hours.

Recognising Johann, and feeling both awkward and relieved to know that some of the Seekers at least are still present, Syuzanna considers how best to approach them without...approaching them.
She also notes his attention to two freshly dug burials, and her heart skips a beat- or at least it would have.
Which of them would it be?
How will she find out?
Am I tu ehrly pehrhaps? Eithr wait for them tu leave ohr see ief they com tu yu...du noht be tu quick.

Deciding to slip into the woods for now, and let them get on with whatever they were doing, Syuzanna gently strolls along the nearest deer-path, and into the trees. If they follow, then they wish to talk, if not, than she will wait, and return to answer her own questions once it is quiet. She has not gone far before coming across a old fallen tree. Perching upon it and closing her eyes, she listens, and waits.

A close noise in the undergrowth nearby breaks her from her reverie.
Unsure how much time has passed, she tilts her head ever so slightly.
A rabbit? Squirrel perhaps.
Purhaps eet is tyme tu see tu the camp. Eef the Seekrs hav noht kom tu find me, they must noht want anything...

(OOC: I dun' wanna be in the airship... but that's where I am, no more vampire-talk for Divah )

Cecil woke up with a mouthful of dirt, and the cold pressure of the earth above him crushing down on his ribs. The sunlight stung his eyes where it punched through the edge of the grave, showing it must be quite shallow. Shifting in the loose earth, he punched his hand up through the earth, feeling the air on his fingers. Gripping the surface, and pushing his other hand up, he elevated himself so that he was sitting in the grave, waves of loose soil shaking off his clothing. Using his hands to balance he stood up in the shallow hole. He took a tentative step before collapsing, his legs feeling weak and shaking. He finally looked at himself for the first time. His skin was ashen and cold, and he could not feel his pulse. Seeing a shadow through the bushes, he began to crawl towards it, the undergrowth rustling and crunching around him. Dragging himself free, he could see the vampire, Syuzanna, set on a log, her head slightly tilted. Moving towards her, he finally manages to stand, and strides towards her with increasing confidence.

"What was that blood! What has it done to me... WHAT HAVE I BECOME!"

[modnote: Pretty fast recovery for a dead person... Also, Annnnnnnnnngst! ]

[OOC - Sunlight?]

Syuzanna watches with interest at the undergrowth nearby.
Though she is sure now that the noise is bigger than a squirrel, she does not move.
As the figure crawls out of the bushes, and struggles to it's feet, it becomes clearer.
Recognising the disheveled man, expressions flicker across her features.
Surprise, sadness, disappointment, settling into curiousity.

"My condohlence, Ceceel. I did noht wish your death. Tel me, what happend this day?"

(fast recovery - you were unsure of how much time had passed, and the undead part had already caused my bloodlust so i must have been mid-transformation)

[Modedit: not that much time, to be honest. Seeing as Syuzie's not a Norn ]

Cecil moved towards her and sat next to her on the log, still fuming.
"What day?!"

Ignoring his unreasonable attitude she continues with a civil tongue.
Afterall, it would appear he has had something of a rude awakening.
"Eet has only biin one day since we last spoke."

Sensing her annoyance, Cecil tries to calm down, his anger at his death now slightly diminsished.

"I have only just woken, I do not know how long I have... slept for. How long was I... gone? Then I will be able to answer your question."

(Not annoyed btw. Sorry if not clear, wrote previous post quickly.)

She speaks gently and calmly.
Rather than repeating herself and making him feel foolish, she changes tack.
"Wat du yu remembr? Retrayce your mehmories, be slow."

Cecil looked away into the distance, trying to remember what had happened that day. As the fog of returning to... life cleared, he could feel sharp stabs of pain shoot through his eyes, the pale moonlight seeming to burn them.
"My eyes... the light - need shade."
Rising quickly to his feet, Cecil stumbled around blindly, eventually slumping against a knotted tangle of roots in the shadow of a great oak. Regaining his focus, he begins to speak.
"The blood. It all began with the blood. The Seekers made a... mistake with the information they gave me on it, well, more what they told me to do with it really. The elf, Divah, he was the one who advised me. He told me to drink it. The day passed and I slowly began to feel unwell, the sunlight burning my eyes and even fainting from the heat. At the close of the day, Pedro - the imbecile Iritian count, attacked the fishman, Dende, mortally wounding him. Luckily, there were clerics nearby to heal him. Upon his revival, he left to seek revenge on the Count, returning shortly announcing his death, so I left to see the body. When I arrived, there were others around his body, none of them healers. Seeing him slowly bleeding to death, with no help coming, we finished him, out of mercy. It was then things became disjointed. My mind clouded with hunger and I lashed out at the others. You have to understand - I could not stop myself. There was something... else in my mind, hungry for blood, and controlling my body. It was then that they must have... that I died. When I awoke I had been buried, scant metres from where we now sit, my possesions gone, looted. Does this satisfy you?"

Syuzanna had been listening intently, but halfway through his story something snapped.
Her gentle patience evaporated in an instant, and her body tingled with rage.
"LUCKY?!" she roared, leaping to her feet. "FOOL!!"
Cecil found her standing over him where he had landed in the tree roots.
"I wahnt heem DEAD! Treacherous leetle backstabber!"
With the moon in the sky behind her she was but a silhouette, but within that darkness, fearsome eyes shone.
What little light there was flashed on her hate-twisted features as she spat her tirade.
The emotion of her rant was such that she seemed to forget that Cecil was even there.
After a time the words faded, and fell into rumbling feral growls.

Bellowing with rage, Cecil stormed to his feet, finally unleashing his anger at his death on the vampire - shoving her backwards towards where they had been sat.

"He WAS lucky you self-centred mongrel! HE had healers to save him! NONE CAME FOR ME!"

Simmering with anger and cursing himself for believing she could think of him, help him he turned away slowly moving back towards the camp, fists clenched. He paused for a second, before turning back towards her, speaking in a hushed, choked voice, as if he wanted to cry, but the tears were no longer there.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't stop myself, I'm so angry, and so confused. I don't know what I have become. I need your help, and you seem like you could use mine. The Seekers seem to blame for crossing both of us. Will you help me? Please?"

Syuzanna hisses at the man, fangs bared, incensed at his behaviour to her.
Regaining her composure is a struggle, but her will is strong, and she stands back, tall and still.
"I du noht need yu, Ceceel...noht yet." Her voice is as cold and clear as ice.
"Ahnd yu will never rise against me again."

As she says this, you get a strong feeling that it is true, and perhaps you couldn't, even if you wanted to.
She seems to be deciding what to say next...and you think it would be wise to tread carefully.

Cecil returns to where they met again, taking his previous seat.
"I'm sorry, I'm just... confused by what has happened to me. I don't understand how, or why, and I lost control. It was weak and insensitive of me. Do you need anything else of me immediately, or am I free to leave? I must re-establish myself with my family, and the Epitaph. I have an urgent article to write."

The vampire shakes her head.
"Du noht seek company unteel yu have kontrol." she pauses for a moment, considering the simplest explanation.
"Do noht seek kontrol unteel yu understahnd. Yu will not understand unteel yu accept. Kan yu accept this?"

Cecil pauses as if pondering the question, finally making a firm decision.
"Absolutely. This is what I am, and I cannot change what I am without first being what I am, or else there is nothing to change. So yes, I accept that I am now undead."

"Yur mind steel workhs, thees is guhd. Buht yur body now hears new call. I kno yu feel eet."
She closes her eyes for a moment, as if listening to something.
"Yu must learn tu hear this call."

Cecil turns to her, a puzzled look on his face.
"I feel no call except that of vengeance, the call I must not heed. I need time. Rest. Guidance."