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| Flame, Snow, and Soul (Resumed); Personal RP; Lilim, Kranzer, Snowden | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 28 2016, 07:42 PM (229 Views) | |
| Daji | Oct 28 2016, 07:42 PM Post #1 |
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There were some that even she could not quite touch. It was... surprising, to say the least, when such examples of enigmatic potential were set in front of her. Not precisely unheard of, as she had seen the width and breadth of what Mortal king were capable of, or so she had once thought. Of all the fragile things she had looked upon since her birth from the heart of darkness, there were less than a handful of beings that were immune to her touch--and yet, not only had she found one--but now, the galaxy was filling with beings of greater and greater power. That meant only one thing. It was coming--her breath abated as the realization came to her during private moments staring into the darkness she had mastered, the fate of mankind that she manipulated to her whims and desires--the object of her abject and subject desires, her wrath, her obsession, and it was finally drawing near. So much power focused into such few individuals, rather than spreading across countless trillions of souls, meant only one thing as time continued to see heights of greater and greater power. A heralding of what mortal kind feared most. The sheer anticipation was going to be the end of her, yet she could not stand idle as the waves of the future could be heard approaching the shoals, the coral reefs trembling at the might of the oncoming storm. Oh, but how wonderful these tidings were becoming. Those that sought to foil her plans--the ones that were drawing her ire day after day--were merely pushing towards the inevitable like moths to a flame, nary a single reed bent upon the rushing storms they blindly soared. She had to do nothing but continue to harass, waylay them--make them desperate, make them frantic, make them panic. Make them Fear. Oh, but that was your purview, was it not? A god with that title would have been orchestrating such a calamity of calamities with their own fingertips, yet nary a wrinkled knuckle could be seen behind the curtain--so are you playing at puppet master, O bearded one, or did you just write the script, hoping hapless lads and lasses would play to your tune? Or is this merely the intermission, your wizened brow desperately looking upon the stage and audience to gauge their interest? Where was the great harbinger of doom when his heart flitted about hither and thither to the tune of a red-haired woman's words? Is that how a god is brought low--by the sing-song voice of a mortal girl? Oh, but she could taste how quaint that was. All of the power of fear and the deprived madness it could inspire, and yet a god would choose tea and conversation over his own plans and machinations. Oh, dear deity, she was not the reason you lost your Rook in this grand game--you have but yourself to blame. Bring him back as many times as you would like, but his might is now nothing more than that of a pawn. To redeem him, you must push him ever onward unto the gauntlet of your opponent's jaws--delaying the inevitable, delaying the other plans you had already set into motion. You let your vision dwell upon the one, rather than the board. Is this how gods fell? Enriched and Entrapped by the charms of a mortal, the rebels of a soldier, and the mirror you so desperately wish to avoid? She could not write a better drama. But what of the new god that was rising in prestige? What of the Brother that was slighted yet again--and blinded by the same sing-song that blinded a god? She had to give credit where it was due--never before had she seen another woman as skilled as herself in deception, even if it was believed to be truth. Oh, yes. Keep telling him what he wanted to hear--the closer you try to clutch him to your bosom, the more he will push away. He will begin to doubt--not because of mine words, but because his answers keep coming from others, rather than for himself. When he realizes that his life has been spent for the benefit of others will he realize his own answers to life. How can you be satisfied with how things are? When all that surrounds us all could be so much more? Who lives inside--the servant or warrior? The insatiable thirst for power has made idles out of mortals, gods into clay, soldiers into heroes, children into slaves--who would suffer the laws of fate? Were you ready to pay the price for someone else? Will you suffer the words, the lies, the design of those around you, rather than your own destiny? She didn't need to answer any of this, and neither did he--she already knew the answers that dwelled deep within the mind and chest of the brother, the shadow, the underling. Their hearts were laid open upon their sleeves like a map, and she could manipulate those fears to realize the harshest, damnest truth about the one they so desperately followed. Just as he had given up on her, He will give up on all of them. But she was getting ahead of herself--there was no benefit to reading ahead of the script until the actors took back the stage and resumed their roles in this grand opera--and she deigned to have front-row seats upon the orchestra! But so many things needed tidying up--she could only hold prisoners and pawns for so long before they became useless. Alas, that was all this one could be--a pawn. She was, perhaps, not altogether resilient to her charms, but her body made it insufferably irritating to try and correct--the damages done to her face and neck had been profound and eluded even the Willbreaker's ability to heal. She had even offered a place by her side, a membership within the embellished commune and sorority that was her choir--Morgana was but one of her many agents, and the military girl had, perhaps for a moment, been inclined to join, but that moment had passed and she had refused. Well... perhaps just for now. But it would not do for the hostess to keep her guest as a craven prisoner within her halls of ever-morphing darkness and foreboding, so when she learned of the girl's master and commander, it was but time to grant her the boon of rescue and sojourn, to bring her back to the man she apparently owed so much to. Oh, but the both of them were so unique, a sweetness to their souls that made them so deliciously attractive to her senses--she could scarce stay away from them for long, not when destiny decided to grant them such interesting plots to play. Keeping the girl in her clutches would just spoil the appetite--she had to know when to let her go, to watch her play at heroism, to see her master play at being the good man that he knew he wasn't. "Of course, dearest," she had cooed calmly to her guest, wrapping a bat-like wing around her barely-covered guest, dressed in only the tattered remains of her cloak, as the rest of her armor and gear had been stripped away by fang and claw in their furious battle in the snow. How appropriate--From snow, to Snow, unto snow. It was like the unconscious will of the galaxy was giving her lyrics to her depraved song of madness and revenge. And with that, the darkness would consume the both of them, bringing them near to the home--or, at least, the temporary one--of the girl's master and commander, the one she blindly followed, the one that blindly supported her, a cycle of blind faith that made the demoness suck air through her fanged teeth in delight and expectation. Oh, to see that first crack in their symbiotic proposal--to see that first betrayal and see it spiral out of control--Oh! She could not bear to anticipate it. She had to wait and watch to see how it would unfold. She could not press the matter without tipping her hand--she, after all, needed a new Knight in her game, and perhaps, with luck, this one would be the one. After all, how could one hold so much potential and not yearn to use it? All he needed was a purpose to dedicate to--and perhaps, in a way, she could grant that purpose upon the youthful, powerful piece that yearned for destiny, for greatness, for vindication. He knew so little about himself, and that, at least, could be provided. ...For a Price. WC: 1451 |
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| Yan Cass | Nov 9 2016, 10:58 PM Post #2 |
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Damaskian RP Guide
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Earth was a good distraction. Yan was glad he had come back. He had told Juch it was to pick up Kranzer since travel to Grace could be more complicated than most realized, but the reality was he needed space. He needed to get away from the android, Anna, and even the planet herself. He would be returning soon, but for now he sought relief in the comforts of the planet closest to being his home. Even here he saw the ghosts of his trauma, but he was able to ease it away in dive bars and human beds. Apparently he was not the only one easing his troubles as such. He had left Kranzer be at first. After everything that happened on Keifer, the man deserved his leave. He kept an absent eye on him, trying to understand him better by what he did when he was unguarded and free. He realized quickly that wasn’t how he was. Like Yan, Kranzer had been, in a way, scarred by his recent experiences, and the monkey saw how it weighed on him, heavy and harsh. He almost regretted abandoning him, but he told himself he had no choice. Kranzer did not trust him, nor did he believe in his cause. It was how he had designed it, but as he began placing the pieces that would eventually take apart the Chaos Council member Rangurumatum, the devout soldier could not be around. More than that, Kranzer wanted to see Yan as a leader, as his commander, and after the hell he had experienced in Anna’s mind, he knew he would not be able to play that role for him so soon after. The reality was, he had pushed him away in pure selfishness and paranoia. It would do nothing to build trust, but he still wasn’t sure that was what he wanted. Yet, when the sergeant was attacked, he moved immediately. It wasn’t because he didn’t think Kranzer could handle himself, but rather because the situation called in more cards than his underling. He interfered, and fell back into his role as a Damaskian soldier. His time plotting against all those that disgusted him was over. He had put his cards on the table, contacted old allies, including a certain succubus, and did what he could. The time to step back up had arose, and he was forced to get his head back in the game. He was forced to recover, if you could call it that. No longer would he show his weakness. No longer would he lash out at Juch. No longer would he fear Kranzer’s disdain and disloyalty. He needed to move forward, to organize his thoughts and do what he did best. Yan was an urchin, the lowest of low. He didn’t have friends and his allies often changed, but he knew people. He knew his enemies, his allies, and people he met even for the first time. He could pick apart the data provided in interactions and put together proper analyses that were usually on the mark. His problem was that for a year his brain had been filled with countless false interactions. He had spent time with Kranzer, but it was not the real Kranzer. He had to erase them, even if it meant starting completely fresh and erasing the real interactions. If he knew only the Kranzer from the last battle, he knew a lot. There was countless more things he didn’t know, but all that would require was time, and maybe, the almost fated encounter that would occur today. So, the battle had ended, for better or for worse, and Yan had given Kranzer a time limit to finish his business on Earth and prepare to depart. It had been a few days, and finally the last one had arrived. The monkey had easily tracked him to a noname city in a somewhat fancy hotel. He did not bother to knock, cracking the door’s lock with an app on his phone, and found the soldier passed out in what was likely another hungover stupor. He looked over the room and made his way to the phone. He called the operator and in a quiet voice requested a late check out and the credit card for payment to be changed. They adhered to him with ease, and when he hung up he made his way to the coffee maker, taking the pot and filling it and taking the appropriate measures to brew a pot before moving on to the minibar. It didn’t take him long to make a simple bloody mary, and he set it on the bedside table without bothering to stir his sergeant. If anything, he had been extremely quiet the whole time. He took a cup of coffee for himself, though once the soldier did stir, he planned to move to get him one from the warm pot. For now, he plopped himself down into the lounge area of the suite, and slid his notebook from his breast pocket. The quiet times were still a little damning, and he almost regretted coming so early, but he found a pencil and began running it over the paper with a fixed attention. It wasn’t the best of distractions, but it would do, and soon the page was filled with half of Hayami’s face. He probably could have stayed that for a while, but suddenly he felt the familiar sensation of lust and wanting, so surreal and instant. His body shuddered in anticipation and he almost dropped his sketchbook at her gripped his knees to calm himself down. Was it possible Lilim’s effect on him had become worse after experiencing the pure ecstasy of actually having sex with her as many times as he had? It seemed so. It took a lot of willpower to calm himself, and Kranzer’s disheveled appearance likely half naked in the bed nearby didn’t really help matters. It was likely only his sheer confusion as to why she would be coming here of all places that gave him some conviction. Lilim was not the type to delve into his business without warning. She would not seek him out without a word while he was with someone she did not know. Why then, was she appearing here? Was it possible she wanted something with Kranzer? He thought about the weird demonic energies in his subordinate, things he still hadn’t completely discerned. Was there something in that she sought, being the high level demon she was? Still, he had absolutely nothing to do with Chishan, her all time obsession, and after their last discussion, he had thought things were going to move on that front once more. He couldn’t underestimate her web, however. He couldn’t underestimate her. If she was there for Kranzer, would she be expecting Yan? He doubted it. If she knew their connection, something would have been said wouldn’t it have? Surely, she was not trying to steal his prey after so surely asserting her dominion over Chishan. She was not alone though either. That was also new to him. Kranzer was likely stirring at this point, how could he not? He was certainly in for a rude awakening. He remembered how the soldier had responded to Riya’s powers, all desire and no restraint. Just what would Lilim’s old magicks do? When she appeared in full, the shadows subsiding, he had managed to calm himself, to hide his mind and cross his legs. He reached for his coffee and played nonchalant, even when he looked upon her form and saw Anna in all her perfect naked glory. He often enjoyed her ability to show him what he most desired, but being forced to deal with knowing that right then it was also his biggest nightmare, that he missed her, was a whole new kind of damning. He did his best to fight against it, to want something else, or suppress the magic altogether, but his composure remained the same. ”Hullo, honey,” he said softly, still hoping to surprise her as she did him. His gaze quickly shifted from her to her companion though, and he offered a sly smile, before taking another sip of his coffee. Why they hadn't added more partners to their endeavors before was certainly a good question. 1,382 |
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