|
Post by The Sidhe on May 17, 2014 13:58:55 GMT -5
The ladders would hold either easily. The rungs that hung were leaps and bounds ahead of the old rickety stairs, folded metal that glinted in what little light there was. The ropes looked to be made of similar material, wound tight and strong. The risk of them breaking was low. The third ran all the way up to Rossingol’s old room, secured by bolts just over the edge into the wood. The closer the team drew, the more obvious the struggling and muffled cries of distress would become.
The room belonging to the supposedly late Rossignol had seen better days. Where lush curtains heavy with tassels and gold embroidery used to hang there were no only sheets pinned to block the view of the outside world. The light was brighter as the sun insisted through, having beached the fabric through the years. Wood that was polished until it reflected as flawlessly as a mirror was now dulled, worn, and rough. A single wooden chair lay shoved to the far left side, the cushion torn from one corner with the fabric fraying. Another lay beside it, the legs broken off and laying nearby, sharpened into stakes even though none were bloody.
All on the walls were old posters of Rossingol. Depictions of a pale beauty with dark auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes throwing her head back and laughing, standing upon a stage and singing, reclining on a chaise lounge with a bottle of absinthe. All were beautiful, but all were muted and yellowed with age. Some cracked at the edges due to the paper being so old, yet they plastered the walls. Beneath the far right window was a rickety looking old desk and an old doctor’s bag. The leather was in poor condition, but it was open. Beside it was an old picture frame and an old black and white photograph. It depicted two young lovers, odd in that neither held the serious expression usually seen for the time.
Taken from the chest up, on the right was a man that looked to be in his mid-twenties. Dark hair was combed neatly to the side as was the fashion and equally dark eyes, dressed professionally in an old suit, a kind smile painting his face with an arm around the woman to the left. Even in the photograph, her hair shone, impeccably styled back with gem encrusted pins and falling in lazy curls down past her shoulders. She had her arms around him, class in an expensive looking evening gown. She had her forehead pressed against the side of his, an elated grin on her heavily made up lips, strikingly clear eyes focused only on the one beside her. So many years ago they would have had to hold such a pose for several minutes. They had decided to do it anyway, preferring to remember love than the other hardened looks for the time.
A far different scene was unfolding in the back of the room. Shoved up against the wall was a battered looking canopy bed sat with gnarled looking wood posts and appearing to have trouble remaining standing. Despite its outward age, the sheets were colorful and new, and Lucille lay upon them. Tied by her wrists and ankles and tugging at them fiercely. Her red hair was a mess and mascara streaked down the sides of her face from frantic looking blue eyes. Red marks were beginning to mar her pal skin as she yanked at the ropes with everything she had.
Pacing beside her and testing the edge of a scalpel with one thin finger was the mad soul they were looking for. Dark auburn hair fell loose to her hips, curling lazily over her back and shoulders. Her skin had paled to near grey, arsenic in the makeup she had favored years ago making her appear ill as a result. Her eyes were sunken and startlingly blue, fixated on the shine of the blade. Lips painted with dried blood held a sinister grin. Dressed in heavy velvet and lace that was once white, it had faded over the years. The once long skirt was torn off at her knees and slit up one side to her hip, the sleeves ripped off at the shoulders, the collar fraying. Were the ensemble complete, Rossingol looked fit for a wedding.
As she turned to her next victim, Lucille froze. She nearly had her right hand free; she could feel the ties slipping from the poorly made knots. Breathing hard, she shook her head and tried to yell through the cloth that gagged her. Rossingol sat at her bedside, pressing the blade against her cheek and then dragging it down along the dancer’s jaw and down her throat. <<Let’s try this one more time, shall we?>> Pressing it more fiercely against pale skin to draw a drop of blood, Lucille yelped and stayed stark still lest it cut further. Rossingol smiled sweetly before her expression abruptly darkened, screaming at her hostage, <<WHERE IS HE?>>
A ringing quality reverberated off the walls and shook the room. Lucille took slow, shaking breaths, taking the advantage of Rossingol’s gaze being trained on her to loosen the tie on her right hand. As the former courtesan drew back the surgical instrument, Lucille took her chance. Slipping her hand free violently, she reared back and punched her kidnapper square in the jaw as hard as she could. She knocked her sideways and onto the floor. Sitting up, she yanked out the gag and went to work trying to untie the other knots, screaming desperately.
<<HELLP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE, HELP ME!>>
|
|
|
Post by Levi Kastein on May 23, 2014 21:55:05 GMT -5
Climbing ladders like some peasant trash was upsetting for Levi, why couldn’t there just be stairs so he didn’t have to sully his hands by touching the ladders? If not for the desire to leave the whole country as soon as he could Levi would have had some commoners make him a better way to get up. Alas he was stuck climbing ladders like a peasant and would make sure the kishin suffered for this offense against him. Nearing the top of the ladders the sound of some muffled voice became audible and a bit of an annoyance to listen to.
Before he got off the ladders and revealed himself to what was in the room Levi took a moment to assess the situation. Strategy was never something Levi put too much though into and that wasn’t going to change for some stupid French kishin egg but he was going to not just jump in. His main reason for not charging in was simple; he didn’t want the hostage to get in his way. There was the added influence that he wasn’t going to sneak up and cowardly kill the kishin egg, his presence had to be revealed in a way that fit him.
Lifting himself so that he could see what was above them he looked around the room to take the scene in. The walls were covered in a bunch of old posters that had clearly seen better days. Either the kishin egg was the doctor and had a serious obsession issue or it was the dancer and they were more conceited than he was. Levi almost hoped it was the washed up dancer so he could have the extra fun of showing a commoner how much lower than him they were. As the pictures went farther back he couldn’t make out what they were but he assumed much of the same.
The rest of the room was much like the posters, dulled with age and not worth him wasting his time looking at. No obvious signs or threats in the immediate area so he could focus his attention on what he needed to do. Farther into the room was where something of interest was going on and his attention was directed toward it. The hostage was tied to the bed so at least she wouldn’t be running into his way and what was most likely the target was looming over her. Looked like he would get to crush a commoner after all!
Killing the kishin egg while she was distracted by the hostage would be too easy and not enough entertainment to satisfy him. Waiting he watched as the kishin egg wandered around the hostage who she was trying to interrogate by her words. What she would want to know escaped him but it gave his a chance to prepare his grandiose entrance. As quietly as he could Levi climbed off the ladders and stood on the floor ready to face the kishin egg in front of him.
Irene would have the chance to climb up after him and he counted on that for what he intended to do. Obviously the kishin egg had no qualms with killing the hostage or else she wouldn’t still be alive so his options weren’t exactly plentiful. He was going to save her though, just because he could and the odd were against him. Now standing on the same plane as the others he extended his right hand and waited for Irene to transform into her weapon form. Saying something would have worked as well but he wanted his presence to go unannounced until he was ready.
The scream was a grating screech as far as he was concerned but it did lead to an interesting chain of events. After the scream the hostage managed to get her hand free and punch the kishin egg in the face, it even knocked her down which was rather disappointing for him. If she could be so easily knocked down by a common punch he should just let her take the girl’s soul so she would be more of a challenging fight. Ignoring the thought Levi made his move to get the kishin egg’s attention by slamming his foot down on the floor.
<<The only He of any value is right here!>>
Dirtying his mouth he responded to the scream in the kishin egg’s own language. Taking his time he slowly moved closer to the pair with his eyes trained on the obvious kishin egg. He wanted a fight that challenged him but he also needed to keep the hostage safe. So obviously he just had to keep her attention on him instead. His loud response mixed with the stomp of his foot and the approach should manage that. If the first two somehow failed he figured she would react to him drawing closer to her in at least some way. Killing the kishin egg was his first priority, after that was done they could do whatever needed to be done with the hostage.
|
|
Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
|
Post by Irene Dixon on May 28, 2014 0:28:14 GMT -5
Regardless of how easily Levi had been making it up the ladders, Irene still felt somewhat uneasy. After going through a building that obviously was feeling its age, then the first part of this weird tower that looked like it might collapse at any moment… These ropes and ladders seemed to be so out of place and surreal. Depending on them was a little too much to hope for, at least in her mind. Better to be careful than to fall.
Besides… if they fell. The one struggling upstairs wouldn’t gain their help in time. That was the most likely. And as they climbed, the sounds only grew stronger. Someone being held against their will, or so what the muffled female vocals sounded like.
Following her meister, Irene kept his words in mind. He was trusting her to transform without any real cue. She assumed this wasn’t the case, he would mostly likely give her some clue. But…. the fact that he might not was a worry in the back of her mind. What if he wasn’t ready? What if she was too early or too late? What if she misunderstood him. Taking in a deep breath to steady her nerves, she found herself no more calm as she climbed.
There was hesitance from her meister as they neared the room. He didn’t seem nervous, just like he was thinking. Not wishing to say anything at this point, so close to the mayhem, she remained silent. Hopefully he was thinking of a good way to take the kishin egg down while still saving the poor girl. While she didn’t see Levi as one who would let others get hurt, she also thought him to be impatient… which one would win over wasn’t clear to her.
Levi moved again, probably to look around the room. Mentally she urged him to take his time to assess but also to hurry and help the girl. Irene didn’t want anyone to come to harm… The look in that girl’s eyes who had lost her husband to her kishin egg self… the pain seemed so real. The pain from Amani… Who would mourn another loss? Her eyes never leaving her meister, Irene held back a smile. No one would need to mourn. With Levi wielding her, they would take out anything.
He was moving again. She was somewhat surprised by how silent he was, something she wouldn’t have thought came easily to him. Not giving too much time between her upwards climb and his, she followed his lead. Keeping quiet, she moved slowly to settle her steps on the boards of the room that had once been above them. Trying to take in as much as she could, she wanted to be ready whenever Levi beckoned her. Which.. really… Should be soon.
The sounds of struggle had never ceased, even voices having come to her ears. Posters lined the walls, she assumed of the dancer so many years ago. Basic furniture, some broken. Everything was showing of age. So many years passing and taking its toll on this physical world. This included the bed. And one of the two people.
Strong ropes… something that reminded her of the out of place ladders and ropes below them. They tied a dancer to the posts of the bed. Looming above her was… the one in the posters and picture. The situation made her nervous not to be in her weapon form. Glancing to Levi, she saw him move once again. His right hand extended somewhat towards her. A sign. Relief washed over her for many reasons. The dull light of her familiar transformation, she changed quickly into her white poled, dark bladed self. Relaxing in the darkness of her form, she prepared herself for the Royal’s intense wavelength. Welcomed it.
The passing events were actually a bit of a surprise. Irene hadn’t really expected the hostage to strike out against the kishin. The will to live was certainly something. Some gave life up so easily, others fought until the bitter end. Though Irene could almost feel the displeasure of her meister, Irene couldn’t help but be a bit pleased.
His following words were even more amusing. Typical of him, but she found herself growing used to it. Let him live in his royal world. It didn’t hurt her and his strength was something she was learning to love more and more. He could do this, they both could. And they were ready.
She was at the Prince’s service.
|
|
|
Post by The Sidhe on May 28, 2014 20:25:28 GMT -5
Rossignol reeled when she toppled to the floor in a heap. How dare she! If that tramp look-alike damaged her face, then she would have nothing! This was all her fault anyhow. How dare she wear her face, steal him from her! All she had to do was return her beloved Louis and she could be freed. Why didn’t she get it? Snarling, the courtesan was back on her feet in a second, drawing the scalpel back as her captive screamed. All at once, the floorboards shook and a loud bang made both startle further apart, dust lifting into the air and resounding creaks lingering as the echo of the sound dissipated. <<The only He of any value is right here!>> The amount of precision it took to stop on a dime up on the balls of her feet and twisted into the dramatic position as she was may have been impressive. For a moment, Rossignol seemed frozen in place, looking like a porcelain ballerina stuck in a music box that needed rewinding. Lucille sat stock still, glancing through smeared eyeliner and running mascara from the prince, to her captive, and back again. She didn’t dare move. It wasn’t worth the potential slit throat if she did. When Rossignol finally became animated again, it was to deflate. Fluid, graceful movement lowered her arms. Her feet made no sound as she turned seamlessly to investigate the team. Icy blue flitted over the prince’s features from head to toe, her face tight in confusion, lips holding a slight pout to them. It looked as though the courtesan was trying very hard to remember something, the scalpel held more loosely in her right hand. Behind her, Lucille silently yanked her other hand free and moved on to untying her ankles, keeping an eye on her captive to be sure her attention remained elsewhere. The distraction didn’t last long. Her gaze shifted to the old photograph in reference, and the look of hopeless confusion slid into rage. He was not the one she wanted! He was not Louis! The courtesan tightened her grip on the scalpel, eyes widening into a deranged stare. For the second time, her shrill voice broke through the air and rattled the room, <<WHERE IS HE?>> The metallic trill that accompanied the tone was enough to make eardrums vibrate. Behind her and now free, Lucille covered her ears with a pained expression but still moved swiftly, rolling off the bed to duck underneath it. Better to hide until it all blew over, she thought. Rossignol did not remain stationary for long. Renewed knowledge that the prince was a far cry from her missing lover bid her move. Waves of deep red fell like a curtain over half her face as her shoulders lowered. Her feet moved and proved to the team that this one was surprisingly quick. Shrieking as she ran towards them, Rossignol held the scalpel braced in both hands, running straight towards the prince and swinging in a downward arc towards his face.
|
|
|
Post by Levi Kastein on Jun 2, 2014 21:13:39 GMT -5
His faith was not unfounded as Irene transformed at the sign of his extended hand like he wanted her to. With her weapon form in his hand he was ready to take action against the kishin egg but based on how she responded to the commoner’s hit he felt slightly overpowered. If a normal person could cause that sort of reaction he could probably rip through the kishin egg alone with just a soul purge. It was better to have Irene in case that wasn’t true but he severely doubted the strength of the creature before them. She didn’t even look like a monster, just a pathetic peasant who couldn’t get what she wanted.
At least his announcement had done its job and captured the attention of the target. She turned to face him and he could see she was obviously a much more faded version of the person in all the posters. Clearly she had a bit of a complex if she needed that many pictures of herself around; she wasn’t even royalty or deserve it. Even gazing upon Levi’s immaculate visage seemed to cause the kishin egg to be defeated. If just looking at him caused her defeat he wasn’t holding out much hope that she would be much of a fight.
Levi made no move to attack the kishin while she was immobile, this already seemed too easy and there was no honor in killing a defenseless foe. Her captive seemed to be making moves to escape so there was no need to interfere and possibly drag her back into danger. Levi was glad she was fighting back though; nobody else seemed to be able to do a damn thing for themselves so it was a refreshing change. If only that punch did less and the kishin was actually threatening.
The sight of rage on the kishin’s features was actually a relief; he was worried she might have given up just from looking at him. Her scream told him that she had not actually given up the will to live from seeing him but still wanted to fight. Her words however upset him slightly as it was just the repeated trite she spit out before. The he she was looking for was long dead and either way was some lowly trash and yet she was fixated on him in the presence of true magnificence. Clearly he had to educate the peasant before him.
”I’m not going to repeat myself cur.”
No longer attempting to speak French so that she understood he no longer cared if she knew what he was saying. Her dismissal of his presence was aggravating and he wasn’t going to allow some weak mongrel sully his name. The scream was completely unnecessary but he couldn’t expect a kishin egg of her low standing to be tolerable. She was quick; he would give her that but so was he. Lowering his grip on Irene he stood and waited for the cur to get closer to him.
When she attacked Levi made his move. A downward swing aimed at his face? He almost would call her attempt cute but from her it was a disgusting attempt at actual combat. Clenching his left hand into a fist he focused on collecting his wavelength while taking his right hand he thrust up Irene horizontally and used the top of her weapon as a pole to crash into her arms and block the attack. Not wasting any time he wanted to make sure this mutt knew her place as lowly kishin trash before an almighty prince. His left hand shot out aimed at her face with the added power of a concentrated soul purge; if she was so fond of it the attack only seemed fitting.
If a commoner’s punch was enough to knock her away his focused soul purge should send her flying and he prepared for this. After the punch he corrected his grip on Irene and moved her behind his back before rushing forward toward the soon to be late member of this shitty establishment. Using his speed as momentum he advanced on the kishin and swung Irene forward. Hopefully he would hit something vital with the attack and Irene would impale her and be done with this whole annoyance of a mission.
|
|
Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
|
Post by Irene Dixon on Jun 8, 2014 21:18:29 GMT -5
Her meister’s sudden words had been noticed. It seemed their mere presence hadn’t been enough, or somehow they both were able to sneak successfully. Either way, Levi stomping his foot to the ground and opening his big mouth had caught both of their attention.
The dancer. Seeing her face clearly now, Irene had no doubt that this was the woman from the posters. She could only assume this was the female that had been described to them earlier. The picture of the young couple, it was oh so old. Yet, here was the woman from the picture. Smirking to herself in the darkness of her own form, Irene found herself more impressed with the female than Levi. Sure, being struck by a normal human had caused quite a stir with the kishin egg. But… that speed, the perfect balance, the control to stand completely still. That was quite amazing, despite the woman’s crazy eyes now on the team.
For now, the hostage was safe. And as long as Levi kept the dancer’s attention, that would probably remain the case. Her and Levi were much more a threat than the hostage. While the kishin egg’s attention never left Levi, the way she moved from a statue to fluid water was still on the brink of amazing. Irene should have expected nothing less of a dancer, but it remained quite a sight to see, the perfection of controlling each and every movement, like fine details closely being paid attention to.
Irene noticed the change in expression as well. From surprised, to a sort of contemplation, to anger. Quite a mix, Irene could feel her head throbbing at the mere thought of letting that all process so quickly. Then it hit her, why were they waiting? This kishin egg was going through a whole process of emotions and Levi hadn’t moved a muscle. She didn’t put it in his character to be formulating a plan, or be patient, so why were they so still? But the serenity of it all was shattered in an instant. With that anger, the woman screeched.
Where is he?
Ah. The man. That’s why she had looked at the picture. That man was long dead, unless he happened to be a kishin running around somewhere. But… the great chance was… dead. Still… that screech was like a banshee. Even nails on a chalkboard might have been welcoming. Wincing in her own darkness, she was glad that Levi seemed to fare better. So much better, that he decided to reply? Did he sound… angry? Maybe it had hit one of his many ego nerves. Whatever it may be, he had done well fighting when irritated before, maybe he needed that to drive him.
Like a flash of lightning, the kishin egg rushed them. Irene would have missed it completely if she hadn’t been watching her closely. That speed was certainly something, it made her eternally grateful that Levi was the meister and she was not. All the more reason to devote any energy and power she had to him. Even if she didn’t quite understand what he was doing.
The scalpel held by the redheaded demon, it was being swung downwards towards her meister’s face. But with his change of position, he was also ready for what was coming. Keeping her attention on everything she could, Irene made sure to be ready if he would need extra help or information. But, she need also trust him. Levi wouldn’t appreciate obvious statements.
He moved then. Taking the chance to block the blatant attack for his face and return the same sort of attack? Had this kishin really bothered him that much that he would mimic her attacks? Now wasn’t the time for the old saying ‘mimicry is greatest form of flattery,’ but Irene was certainly thinking of it. Levi would have destroyed her if she said it.
He always had a continuation of movement, once he started. Charging the kishin egg after his last attack, Irene couldn’t tell if he was unfocused or he just seemed to be. She’d wait a moment before saying anything because she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t need Levi losing too much of a grip in his ego-ridden head.
|
|
|
Post by The Sidhe on Jun 8, 2014 22:35:49 GMT -5
Rossignol had brought down the scalpel clenched in her fists with all the force she had, which wasn’t much. Thin and lithe, she was built for speed and grace. Not battle, and certainly not against the prince. As the corseque made contact with her forearms, the distinct pop of bone breaking could be heard. The scalpel dropped from the courtesan’s hands and clattered to the floor, wailing as both arms bent unnatural. The bone was completely and cleanly broken. Grasping would do nothing, but even through pain her anger and desperation waged on. Even with her arms useless and the pain searing, she swung at the Meister, forcing her hand to claw and hissing at the awful sensation that followed. The blow may have connected if she’d not been knocked back. Rossignol saw the fist flying towards her face, tried to duck but her footing was off for it. It caught her by the edge of her chin as she leaned back, still holding onto the graceful arch right until she was sent flying. Another series of pops. The wavelength from the Meister shot into her skull and rattled around within its confines, making even her bones scream. The initial blow broke her jaw off the joints. She lost a few teeth, two leaving her mouth and meeting the floor to roll to a stop amongst droplets of red. The rest of the blow her snapped her neck clean backwards and off center, locking it into turning her head to the left. Her breathing came in clicks, throat and larynx broken and twisted. Air came in rasping and left in unholy noise, as unnerving as it was sad as she continued to try and move even when airborne, to set her balance on something. But the prince was on her the moment she landed on her feet, no matter how quick and steady she regained her footing. The corseque pierced straight through her chest to her heart. A sickening crack rang out and blood drenched the front and back of the worn white lace she wore, spilling to the floor to dye it red. With her throat beyond broken, all she could do was cough, more red painting her lips and dripping from her mouth that now hung open with her jaw completely disconnected from the rest of her skull. And yet she still moved. Through clicks and pops of ruined breath, on shaking knees, Rossignol reached with her right broken arm in an attempt to grasp her cause of death, failing only in that it bent and her hand would not reach. Head stuck in a lean, blue eyes were focused only on the photograph across the room, her left arm reached as much as it could, fingertips twitching as she struggled to move them through the pain that had begun to grow duller now. Everything was duller now. Blue shone with tears until they fell and rolled down pale cheeks. A final broken breath left the courtesan and Rossignol sagged, managing even in death to fall seamlessly to her knees, balanced only by the corseque rammed through her chest. As it left her, the glowing red orb would escape from her chest to float alone in the air. At the very least, she would finally be with him.
|
|
|
Post by Levi Kastein on Jun 10, 2014 16:10:04 GMT -5
It was almost a surprise to Levi that the kishin egg had even attempted to attack him in the first place. After seeing what the prior hostage had done he would have assumed she would be too intimidated by his presence to muster up an offense. He was pleasantly surprised that she didn’t simply roll over and die but he couldn’t truly gain any enjoyment from her choice. Seeing her attack was refreshing but he couldn’t just let her injure him obviously. Irene would probably have some comment if he did and he would be disappointed if some commoner managed to touch him as such.
Each movement he made only added to the taste of disgust in his mouth. Avoiding an easy kill move he used Irene to block the crazed dancer’s attempt to slash him with that disgrace for a blade instead of aiming to impale her on the spot. Even with his block he could feel her body giving way to him as if he intended to break her arms. Her screams were a mixture of annoying and insulting as she let her pain be known to all involved. The makeshift weapon was rendered useless, not that it ever was a threat to him.
Anger building the more he looked at her the fact that she tried to attack him even after he had shattered her arms only added to his annoyance. His soul purge met her face before she had the chance to touch him with her commoner hands. If she had the chance to see it before his fist hit her she would have noticed the wavelength had a distinct purple hue on the vibrant silver. Like he expected she couldn’t withstand his force and was sent flying out of his presence like the filth she was.
Levi didn’t think it was possible but somehow the hit had made her even more unsightly. He would be doing her a service by ending her pathetic waste of an existence. Rushing her he meant to end this travesty quickly before she had the chance to bleed on him and infect him. Once he was close enough he thrust forward Irene and pierced her blade through the low grade heart that seemed to be the cause of this entire mess, fitting that he would kill her through the same thing that had caused her to become such a pathetic monster in the first place.
Even in death she still managed to piss him off more. Levi glared at her in his anger as he watched her eyes fill with tears and her hand reach for the poster. His mouth turned down into a disgusted grimace at the form before him. He had killed her and still she was more focused on some long dead peasant than his greatness. How she managed to be so fixated on such meaningless nonsense was beyond him. Before her life had left her he tightened his grip on Irene ready to free her from the blade once she was decidedly deceased.
”You did this to yourself, don’t regret your choices now.”
And then she was dead, a sagging husk of her former self. Yanking Irene free of her chest Levi made sure to swing her to the side to rid her of any unsightly common blood, his aim may have been to spatter the dancer’s blood over her own posters but that was just a bonus. Planting Irene on the ground he looked down at the corpse while Irene could transform back, she had a soul to take.
His face remained in a look of anger and disgust while looking at the dancer’s corpse. The fight was over and he barely even tried. There was no challenge, there was no victory, and Levi gained nothing from this encounter. Irene could get a soul but he had nothing. There was no experience or fun in putting down some weak excuse for a kishin egg. At least on the last mission he got a fun fight out of it, sure he hated that kishin for other reasons but at least it wasn’t a push over. He could have fought the kishin on his own and at least had a bit more of a challenge.
It was already finished though so there was nothing he could do about the wash of a kishin. Maybe he would fight someone when he got back to Shibusen so he could at least have a bit of a challenge instead of this pathetic excuse for an enemy. Looking over to the bed that had held the hostage he assumed she hadn’t gotten too far away in that almost fight. If she wasn’t strong enough to not get captured in the first place he doubted she would dare escape while the monster was still breathing.
”You can go now, your years old problem was just taken care of in a matter of seconds. Tell Zidler he can clean up the mess, hopefully it won’t take generations to get done this time.”
With that he was done speaking to the girl and was more than ready to go. With any luck their next mission would actually be worth his time and not be something any common team could deal with.
|
|
Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
|
Post by Irene Dixon on Jun 10, 2014 22:31:22 GMT -5
The dancer’s arms made contact with her weapon form. A distinct sound registered in her mind, something similar to her first mission with Levi. Feeling the give of the kishin’s body against her own form, Irene couldn’t believe it. Did… she really just break her arms? Dancer’s really must be fragile. She shouldn’t have taken that for granted. Her only real weapon that held little concern was now gone. Her arms would be of much less use now. Was this… really going to be over that fast?
Levi was obviously none too pleased. Not that he ever was, but Irene was semi-worried about his grip on his anger. In fact… it was almost difficult to stay synced with him. It wasn’t really power that she was dealing with, it was anger. And… that was a slight bit more difficult to accept, especially when she didn’t understand.
A wail came from the redhead, making it all the more obvious that she was in pain from her broken limbs. She still swung. Such desperation. It was… sad. Levi had completely wiped her sorry attack off the table with his own. His soul purge, wonderful as it was, sent her flying backwards. He really was something. Even angry he had a pretty good hold on himself. The familiar ‘pop’ registered again. Now what had he broken?
The kishin slammed into the wall across the room, directly where they were heading. Seeing the more still figure, Irene noted the teeth falling to the ground and the slacking jaw. What was with Levi and tearing kishin’s faces apart? Her whole body was being wrecked, which was a bit different from their previous fight. This was brutal and was going to end quickly. Levi… was beyond done dealing with her and she wouldn’t last long. Her breathing was odd, she was already falling apart. Really, putting her out of this state would be mercy.
Her weapon form sinking into the woman’s chest, Irene could almost feel the dancer’s heart breaking. She was broken and falling apart, but there she was reaching towards something. This something was the picture. The two lovers. The man she had been searching for for years. Where had the man gone? Why didn’t she know? Had he abandoned her? These thoughts flooded Irene’s mind and she only half tried to push them away. Why was everyone so affected by abandonment? Why did people do this?
Levi’s words rang in Irene’s head, almost taking place of her previous thoughts. It was true… she had made her own choices to become what she was. But… Irene didn’t feel that the woman was completely at fault. Doubts in her mind about the clean cuttedness of this all. Why did her sorrow and pain have to end so badly? Could nothing ever be done?
But, she had to let this go. There was little choice in the matter. The kishin egg now dead, Levi gave her the courtesy of ridding her of blood once again. It pooled around the Kishin egg’s lifeless corpse and now was flung across the walls. But at least it was mostly off her. At the sign he was done with her, the dull light from her transformation back to her human self was quick. A wary glance at her partner showed that he still was in quite the mood. Moving towards the rising, glowing soul, she ridded the stale air of it much the same way she had the wolf’s.
Done with the deed, there was one other thing that needed to be dealt with. And of course, before she chose to speak, Levi’s harsh voice met her ears. The hostage… having been through enough already, would have to listen to her numbskull of a partner. Whatever… He could have been worse, Irene was sure of that. Looking to the woman that had taken refuge under the bed, she gave a bit of a nod towards her. There wasn’t really anything to add to what Levi said, it would have just been sugarcoating things he already spoke. What they needed was done. Things should be fine from then on.
”Levi.”
His name was sharp on her tongue, but not necessarily angry. She wanted his attention and she wanted him to know she was serious. Moving to his side before he would madly dash away… or whatever he did, she spoke quieter now that she was within a closer distance.
”We can talk later, or on the plane home. But anger from things I don’t understand makes it harder to sync with you. We need to be careful.”
Heading towards the hole in the floor, the ladders they had come up, she moved slowly, letting him know he could easily overtake her but she really didn’t want a big drawn out conversation right here and now. She just… needed him to know and they both needed to remember. It wasn’t just them alone, it was ‘them’ as partners.
Emotions. Ha. Those wouldn’t be a problem, would they?
|
|
|
Post by The Sidhe on Jun 10, 2014 23:33:39 GMT -5
Flattened against dust and splintering wood, Lucille watched with eyes as blue as the fallen courtesan’s as her would be killer fell to the ground slack-jawed and broken. Staring as though she expected her to move, she saw the tears roll down the pale skin achieved only by old arsenic based powder. Their hair really was the same color; Lucille’s pulled back into ribbon and curled within an inch of its life, now appearing thoroughly messy after her struggle. Same grace, same figure, same…everything, almost. Shuffling a bit awkwardly given the poor state of the sagging bed, Lucille emerged from underneath it, her front and hands covered in dust, rehearsal petticoats fraying from catching on splinters. The wrap around shirt she wore bore dust even more obviously, white and now coated with grey. The small nick on her neck had already stopped bleeding, barely noticeable. Her composure remained as she dusted herself off, looking stoically grim if nothing else. The team had arrived just in time. If they had been a moment later… Lucille’s attention snapped to the prince as he spoke to her. Her posture righted and she regained that air of control Rossingol had shown only moments earlier, standing stock still. She nodded a bit stiffly, speaking in shaking but perfect English. “I will let him know,” she said clearly before bending at the knee and bowing very slightly, petticoats held vaguely aloft, “and thank you. Both of you.”Straightening in a slow, fluid motion, her eyes darted around at the yellowing posters, the doctor’s bag, the scalpel on the floor. It was still settling in for her, the knowledge that she had almost died. She had missed the struggle, but for that Lucille was glad. Glancing over at the aftermath before smoothly turning her body towards the fallen Rossignol, she stared with enough intensity to chill an open flame. To see the woman who was once the life of the Moulin Rouge so broken and...sad. The way her arms bent, her mouth open, blood staining lace and the floor, a different form of red fanning out behind her head in somehow neat waves even after the brief fight. In truth, it had been more of an execution. Deaf to the teams banter, Lucille moved lazily to the corpse. Standing over her a moment, she set one foot firm on the ground and drew the other back before stopping. Just like Rossignol, she held the position, her face bitter in the worst way but frozen. A shaky sigh left her and she slowly set her raised foot back down, so delicate it made no sound. She didn’t have the conviction. Rossignol had nearly killed her, but Lucille still couldn’t divide fury from the sick feeling of misplaced sympathy. She should feel sorry for herself, not the withered courtesan staining the floor. But it was like looking in a mirror. A shattered, lonely, dismal mirror. Lowering her head, she reluctantly followed the outstretched and broken arm. Anger combining slowly with unneeded empathy; Lucille spun with slow grace and crossed the room to the old desk, plucking the old picture from its resting place and wiping the dust off with her fingertips. Repeating the smooth motion and then carefully kneeling beside Rossignol, she delicately placed the picture beneath the corpse’s outstretched hand. Folding her own hands beneath her knees, Lucille lowered her head and hid her face in the white layers of her petticoats. She would not stir for quite some time even after the team had left. Spoils: 1 Kishin Egg Soul, 100 Points
|
|