Guess what? It’s opposite day! Or opposite month, rather. For this event, your character has switched in some way and become something they are not. Is your Meister now a Weapon? Is that female student of yours now a Witch? Is your teacher now a student? Is your student now a Kishin Egg? Will you go full tilt and write as though they’ve always been Witches? Will you go half-way as though something terrible occurred that forced your character into madness? Or has some strange twist of fate come along just to mess with them? It’s all up to you.
Do keep in mind certain site rules, and by that I mean no male Witches and mind the banned Weapons list, you little rascals.
The usual rules apply. You must reach a word count of 1,000 for your entry to be counted, and you can post it as a reply right here in this thread. You can post with however many of your characters you want. At the end of the month, we’ll look it over and dispense points. The points earned for participating in the monthly event alone is 90 by default. If you really blow us away with your entry, we’ll award you 100.
The deadline for the August monthly event is September 1st
Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Aug 2, 2014 23:17:01 GMT -5
”Hey... Stop joking around already. You’re starting to scare me.”
How many times had he said that by now? The poor boy’s throat was growing sore. Each time he said it, no response. Why was she being so mean? She was never mean. His sister was the nicest person he knew. Did she think this game was funny?
”Come on... Say something already.” He spoke again after a few minutes of silence. ”I know that you’re awake. Just stop it already...”
His sister couldn’t be asleep. Her eyes were open, after all. People couldn’t sleep with their eyes open. Even if her body was limp and unmoving, the girl had to be alright. Even if her pink dress had now become a sickening red colour she had to be fine. This was all just a game. Ophélie loved playing those. This was no different.
That had reminded the boy. Those two women... what about them? They had given him quite the scare. They had attacked him, hurting his shoulder. Of course he attacked them back, but Ophélie didn’t approve of that for some reason. The blade of his sister’s weapon form had cleanly cut through one of the women's neck. She had fallen down, but as Cyrille went after the second one once she had transformed back into her human form, Ophélie had stopped him. She had intercepted the partial form of the rapier girl using her own body. The woman’s bladed hand had gone through Ophélie’s chest, which had given Cyrille just enough time to hit her with a soul purge. That had shattered her skull. Then everything had fallen quiet...
Not too quiet, of course. They were behind a few tents in the middle of a carnival. The ambient noises were rather loud, hence why no one had heard the noises of the fight that had just gone on. They’d surely be found soon enough. And then Ophélie would stop her silly games...
There was something interesting about the two women who lied on the ground. What were those orbs? They were both blue in colour. Souls, maybe? He had heard that consuming souls would make one stronger, so the boy decided he might as well take them. The women didn’t need them. No, they didn’t deserve them. Attacking two children... the thought of people doing such a thing made Cyrille rather angry.
Cyrille carefully layed Ophélie’s body on the ground. He had been cradling it, hoping that’d make her stop pretending to be asleep sooner. Slowly, he got up and stood over the two performers. How pathetic they looked. Well, whatever. Cyrille no longer had to deal with them. He’d take their souls. As far as he was concerned, he had earned them. So, the boy consumed the two souls, then returned to kneel down where his sister was.
As Cyrille had kneeled down again, he heard a voice behind him. ”Hmmm...?” The boy murmured to himself as he turned his head to see who had approached. A cop. What on earth was a cop doing here? Perhaps someone had heard the fighting and only now the cops showed up. Ophélie had screamed, after all. Though the cop had only showed up after everything had ceased. Worthless. Whatever. The cop would leave soon enough, surely.
”Get the paramedics.” The cop said over a walkie-talkie. After a short crackling sound coming from the other end, he took a moment to re-assess the situation. ”Three casualties, I think. We’ll have to take them away. And one kid who looks to need medical attention, may or may not be dangerous.”
That was a poor choice of words. “Take them away”. Cyrille stood up. His body felt as though it had been lit on fire by pure anger and hatred. He suddenly begun to run up to the cop, attempting to shatter his skull with soul purge just like he had the woman. ”Don’t you dare take away my Oph-” He began to say, but just as soon as his fist was about to connect with the guy’s skull, he vanished. This left the boy rather confused. ”A hallucination...?” He pondered to himself. ”Odd... That seemed rather life like. Perhaps it was a hallucination of things to come...”
Cyrille had hit the nail on the head. The hallucination had indeed come from the future. From consuming two innocent souls the boy had become a kishin with the power of clairvoyance. Becoming such a thing hadn’t really been on his plans; he had even intended on enrolling in Shibusen. Nonetheless, so it seemed that was how the cards had fallen, even if Cyrille wasn’t fully sure of this just yet. Regardless, if his hypothesis was correct, he’d have to get out of here before that cop showed up.
”Well, I suppose we best get going then, Ophélie.” The boy spoke, returning to kneel at his late sister’s side. He spoke with quite the tender voice, as if to sooth the person he spoke to. He paused for a second, then carefully closed the girl’s eyes. ”But I suppose it might be a bit difficult for you to go in that body. So...” With these words, Cyrille then took his sister’s soul, consuming that one as well. ”You needn’t worry, my darling sister. I assure you we’ll never be separated.”
And so, the streets of Dijon became plagued by the menace of the kishin known as Cyrille Lécuyer. A serial killer who was near impossible to catch, as he always knew how to avoid capture. The killer only targeted women, and always made sure there were no witnesses to speak of. Furthermore, the kishin only seemed to kill around sunset. At the very least, this was what the cops believed to be the case. The killings had only been going on for about a week, so they couldn’t really be completely sure of anything.
However, the one thing that was certain about the killer was their identity. The police had found bodies of Ophélie Lécuyer, Hortense Desrochers, and Violette Desrochers. Lécuyer and the Desrochers didn’t seem to have any connection, as the Desrochers were wanted for theft, while Lécuyer was nothing more than a young girl. But, according to people who had seen her before she had been killed she had been with a boy who had looked almost identical to her. Her brother, Cyrille Lécuyer. But, where was he? No body of the boy could be found. Furthermore, the girls’ souls had been taken, just like all the other victims.
If that wasn’t enough evidence, then surely the state the parents of the twin Lécuyers were found it was more than enough. The couple was found dead. Their bodies had been sliced open, and their souls once again taken. Though the motives of Cyrille were undetermined, the police were certain it was him. The parents were even killed in the same manner all of the victims had been. A display piece had also been taken, believed to be a sword. That would have to be the weapon of choice.
Cyrille had returned home as soon as he could. He had made sure to not be approached by anyone. When he arrived, the only emotion his parents had shown towards him was concern. “Where is Ophie?” They asked. “What happened to your shoulder?” They asked. The questions were annoying. So very annoying. To be even more annoying, when Cyrille had told them that despite Ophélie’s soul leaving her body she was perfectly fine, they had freaked out even more.
Then, the boy had yet another vision. His parents had been so upset about his sister’s death that they had split up. The vision had made Cyrille felt as though a flood of anger and hatred had just washed over him. How greedy could these people possibly be?! They would subject their son to even more heartbreak after he had lost his only friend?! The severe anger soon ended the vision. His parents were yelling at each other. The boy would not stand for this.
An ivory falchion had been placed above the living room’s fireplace. It was easy enough for Cyrille to reach. He was tall, after all. The blade had been constructed in the image of Ophélie’s weapon form. Quite the pretty blade. Cyrille took it, and used it to cut up his parents.
Before the boy could feel any remorse for his actions, he smiled. And then, he laughed. ”Oh! You two needn’t worry now!” He said, leaning over the two bodies. The boy then took each soul and consumed them. ”Now you’ll always be together!”
The happiness Cyrille had felt at that moment was soon halted by another anger inducing vision. The police would arrive soon. How dare they intrude like that? Regardless, it would be best for Cyrille to vacate the premises now. He took the ivory falchion with him.
It was hard to believe it had been a mere weak since those events. In that time Cyrille had become almost constantly angry. He had grown accustomed to his kishin like powers, and he had also already consumed plenty more souls. The souls of women seemed to sooth his anger more than men, so he exclusively went for them. All humans were stupid, so the gender didn’t matter. Cyrille had no trouble cutting them down.
His next target looked to be a girl wearing a nice little red dress. Red? What an ironic colour. Cyrille stepped out from the behind the place he had been hidden from her view and began to walk slowly behind her. He moved his mouth to speak, though no audible sound came out. Even without the sound the voice had caught the girl’s attention. She turned around, her eyes immediately snapping down to the sword the boy carried. White ivory that had been stained red. She immediately begun to run away, turning to her left.
”Ah. I see now.” The boy said, talking to himself. He seemed to have forgotten all about his prey. ”No need for alarm, my dear. I’ll simply allow you to see the future with your own eyes.”
The same girl soon walked by Cyrille again. His lips moved once more just like they had before, and she turned around. Her body moved the same, turning to the left alleyway. This time, Cyrille followed her. The girl had stopped around the left corner, and was now slowly backing up. As she backed up into Cyrille, she vanished. Perfect. Not a single witness.
An hour or so later, the girl in red walked down the alleyway just like she had in Cyrille’s vision. The very sight of her in the flesh added to the boy’s anger. Why could such an ugly girl remain in a perfectly healthy body while his darling Ophie couldn’t? It wasn’t any fair. But, the boy didn’t let his anger make him rash. He walked behind the girl, and opened his mouth to speak.
”Bonsoir (Good evening).”
The girl spun around. She looked at the blood stained sword and darted to the left, as expected. But, as Cyrille followed her around the corner she had froze in place, seeing something currently invisible to Cyrille. A sight into the future. A simple trick that made the girl think there was more than one of him. She slowly backed up, looking as though she was about to dart again, but instead backed up into him.
”Au revoir (Good bye/Until we meet again).”
With these words, the ivory blade was brought swiftly through the girl’s throat. She fell to the ground, gasping for a moment before falling silent. Oh, how very soothing that had felt. What was even more soothing was how delectable the soul was. The soothing didn’t last for long, of course. Cyrille best find his next meal before the police found this girl.
What was it now? A month since he had become a kishin? Cyrille had forgotten time by now. He felt nothing but anger. It was blinding, deafening, starving. All the boy could do now was find more victims. He had grown more efficient at it. Now he’d take any soul. They all soothed, so why not just take as many as he could? It was beginning to become more tedious, though. The police were growing in numbers. They had almost caught him many times. He had been confronted by meister weapon teams from Shibusen. Honestly, it was a miracle the boy still drew breath.
The forecast for today also looked annoying. His visions had shown him multiple exits for where he found himself to be inescapable. They had caught on to his tricks of showing them visions of the boy moving in the future, and that technique was no longer as effective. Any move the boy seemed to make looked to be a dead end. Certain death followed every door he opened.
However, there was no way the kishin could be checkmated just yet. He had still found a way out. While the police were temporarily distracted by a vision, Cyrille would be able to sneak behind them. No one would see him leave. The easiness of it all almost made him even angrier. Stupid humans. This game really wasn’t that hard to beat.
As Cyrille begun to make his escape from the building he had been hiding in, he heard something behind him. However, the boy didn’t stall. He didn’t wish to deviate from his successful escape vision even slightly. That would prove impossible, though. For soon the kishin felt a searing pain cross his back. Of course, the pain was nothing compared to the anger he felt, so he quickly spun around to see a person holding a sword now dripping with his blood.
How dare someone deviate from Cyrille’s visions? That had never happened before. Perhaps he had simply missed this little detail. After all, he had looked through possible escape routes in a rash manner. Was he about to lose his own life due to his own ineptitude as well? Just like his sister, any death that happened here would be only his fault. More anger. Anger to the point his whole body hurt. Anger to the point that the person before him did not have a single distinguished characteristic.
Soon enough, the sounds of metal against metal reverberated through the area the two found themselves in.
Cyrille was excellent with the sword. He was commended for it. So many had fallen prey to his blade, and this being would be no different. Even so, why could his movements be easily matched by this unseen foe? Annoying. But perhaps what was even more annoying was the fact that his opponent’s sword seemed stronger than his somehow. Eck. This was not going well.
After a few more clanging sounds, the kishin felt the sword he was holding being ripped out of his hand. He was defenseless. All he could do now was try to shatter the guy’s skull with a soul purge or something. However, his advances were stalled by some noise. What noise was that? It kind of sounded like speech, but far too crackly to make out. Regardless, the stall had given the person ample time to shove their blade through the kishin’s chest.
How odd. As the sword was pulled out of Cyrille’s chest and his body fell limp, a soothing sensation fell over his whole body, wrapping him like a warm blanket. How very nice that felt. It had been such a very long time since the boy had felt such warmth. What was it the person had said? Ah, yes. Now he recalled...
The life of an artist was so incredibly taxing. Work, work, all Lior did was work, but then it always paid off in the end. Practice made perfect, practice she had put such great deals of magic into through the years. Every little detail had to be just right, or the sculptures she created were worthless. It took her hours, days even to complete one! But they all looked so lovely shining in the light Lior almost didn’t mind. Besides, it wasn’t as if she didn’t enjoy it.
But for now she would rest, having flung herself down onto the chaise lounge situated in the parlor. The afternoon light poured in through floor to ceiling windows gilded in gold. Heavily patterned walls held the glass in place, dark and heavy curtains slumped in heaps upon shining tile floors. Lior lay on her side, muted red eyes staring out at nothing in particular. The harpsichord in the corner failed to lure her in today, and the high ceiling painted with images of cherubs and clouds were too familiar to hold her attention.
Familiar paws padded silently through the large arch leading into the room. Lior lifted her head just enough to regard the snow leopard trotting towards her. “Leah, dear, do you need a rest too?” The grey and heavily spotted cat made no noise as she found the edge of the seat and leapt up onto it. Lior shifted, bending as much as she could in such a tightly pulled corset into the back of the seat. Leah settled for lying up against Lior’s torso, opting not to try and find a place in the enormous and multi-layered skirts the Witch wore. The albino gave a weary smile and let her head rest on one of the throw pillows, strands of palest blonde coming loose to dangle around her face. “I suppose we’ve both been working hard,” she mused softly, letting a gentle hand stoke Leah behind the ears before letting her arm go limp over the side of the lounge. “Between my work and you making your rounds, we never do get enough sleep.”
When exactly she dozed off, Lior couldn’t know. But she heard Leah growl and hiss and leap down from her side. Lior blinked and opened her eyes slowly, becoming slowly aware of the pitter patter of very small feet. Sighing with restrained aggravation, Lior slowly sat up. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning in a way that made her eyes water at the corners. She then stood, heels clicking loudly across the floor to the mirror that hung on the opposite wall. For the most part her hair was still up, piled high in curls and twist. None of the pins had come loose either, thankfully, so the ribbon and feathers had also stayed in place. A few stray strands hung about her face but Lior considered the look alluring. Perhaps if her visitor was male her break could continue.
Her clothing was hardly disturbed or rumpled, but then she hadn’t the room to toss and turn. Waist still cinched, corset still tight as she pulled it that morning. Petticoats in place, skirts full and flowing to just barely grace the floor. Tight bodice with its plunging neckline completely undisturbed. Sleeves neatly ending at her elbows, the attached lace intact and untorn. No white trim missing, no stain to be found on the pale blue fabric. Lior smiled and winked at her own reflection even as Leah bristled in the background, ears flattened against her head.
Lior turned on her heel and placed her hand son her hips. “Hush now, Leah,” she scolded, “We don’t even know who our guest is!” Was it another base for her work? A lost traveler? As Leah scurried and hid beneath Lior’s skirts, the Witch herself held her hands limply in front of her, waiting patiently. The steps grew closer, more tentative. Another beat passed, and Lior found why.
“H-hello? Is anybody here? I-I need help.”
A little girl! Oh how delightful! Lior could barely contain herself, covering her mouth and grinning from ear to ear. “It’s a little one, Leah! How long has it been now, Leah? Oh, what a wonderful stroke of luck!” Lior’s hushed exultation fell on deaf ears, the cat backpedaling with a worried look on her face as Lior began to hurry forward.
All Lior needed to do was skid past the arch frame and turn left. A little gasp met her ear as she turned, shining eyes landing on a very little girl indeed. She couldn’t be older than nine or ten. Donning a gentler smile for the occasion, Lior bent at the waist and held out her hand. “Hello there, dear, are you lost? Don’t be afraid, you’re welcome here.”
The little girl took hesitant steps forward but stopped far before reaching Lior, eying the Witch with an equal amount of hope and fear. “Um, I-I’m looking for my mom. W-we got separated on the trail a little w-ways from here.”
She was perfect. Skin the color of fresh earth, chestnut curls held back from her face in the most adorable clips. Big, round eyes full of worry and the deepest green Lior had ever come across. Yes, a wonderful stroke of luck indeed. She was perfect! And familiar. It hit her in a moment and the plan kicked into motion as Lior took careful steps forward as not to frighten her. Her expression sagged, eyes filling with sympathy and painted red lips pulling down in a pout. “You’ve lost your mother?” Lior carefully knelt before the little girl, skirts gather around them as she did so. She placed a pale hand upon the girls cheek, watched her flinch at how freezing cold the rings on her fingers were. “Poor little dove, would you tell me what she looks like? Perhaps I’ve seen her from the windows or the gardens.”
The little girl drew her hands up to her chest, hunching her shoulders. Swallowing thickly, she spoke in a consistently hushed voice. “She l-looks like me, k-kind of. S-she has long brown hair, and really green eyes. Her skin’s darker, and she’s a little taller than you, and not as…um…”[/color] Lior noted the hesitance and smiled not unkindly, giggling just a bit.
“Not as buxom?”
The little girl tilted her head. “I…don’t know w-what that means.” Lior bit back another grin. What a doll! Taking the little girls hands even as she recoiled from her cold touch, her eyes seemed to sparkle.
“Never you mind, dear. I have seen your mother; in fact she’s still here! Would you like to see her?” The little girl’s demeanor changed instantly. Joy fueled by relief relaxed her features. She grasped Lior’s hands tightly, standing on tiptoe and smiling bright like the sun.
“Oh thank you! Yes please, I looked everywhere for her!” Lior matched her grin with one of made of nothing but poise and beauty. And lies. She slowly stood, hanging on to one of the little girl’s hands while the other picked up the front of her skirts slightly to let them fall back to the floor neatly after becoming rather displaced from kneeling down.
“Let’s go see her, then. Come along, dear, she’s just this way!” The little girl seemed to let out a breath she’d been holding and happily walked alongside Lior. She shortened her strides a smidge so the little one could keep up as they marched through the halls, Lior almost seeming to glide. Past old wallpaper and many a hanging portrait, twinkling chandeliers that bore no light hanging over head…the little girl appeared awestruck. She looked up to Lior after a time after they rounded a corner.
“Um, miss…are you a princess? O-or maybe a ghost?” The little one adopted a nervous expression and proceeded to clarify a bit shakily, “B-because you’re so cold and white and pretty! I mean um…are you a ghost princess?”
Lior paused if only to look down at her, head tilted and face blank for just long enough for the little girl to shrink under her gaze. But then she laughed, tossing her head back and bringing her free hand up to partly obscure her mouth as she did so. Wiping a stray tear away from her face, she began walking again with an elated grin on her face. “No, no, dear. I am none of those things, but you are such a little love for thinking as much!” Lior gestured out before them rather dramatically, splaying her fingers as she swept her arm from front to side. “I am but a humble aristocrat, but I cannot blame you for assuming such social status of me! After all, I was the belle of the ball once upon a time. Suitors lined up for miles just to catch a glimpse of me.” She glanced down at the little girl and winked, whispering as though her next sentence was a treasured secret. “But there was never a single one worthy of even my gaze let alone my hand.”
The little girl looked profoundly confused but they thankfully came upon the set of double doors they were headed towards. Lior released the little one’s hand to hurry forward and grasp the handles. She peered over her shoulder, glee shimmering in her eyes. “Here we are, she’s in here somewhere!”
Lior threw open the doors and the hallway flooded with light. A terrarium lay beyond, the domed ceiling and walls leading down made entirely of glass with gold framework holding it together. With the high noon sun, the white floors glowed with the reflected color. Plants lined some of the outer spaces, potted or planted; the real show occupied almost the entire floor.
Incredibly detailed sculptures of ice stood within. Each appeared incredibly life-like; some dressed in lavish clothes such as Lior’s, others appearing far more modern. They were all so poised and elegant looking, shining in the sunlight. The only thing that didn’t seem quite right was that none were see though as ice should be.
In fact, it rather looked like they were encased in ice rather than sculpted out of it.
The little girl had run ahead in as soon as the doors were opened only to come to a screeching halt. Her mother was near. She stood twenty feet in beside a handsome young man dressed for the rococo period, just like Lior. Her mother stood in a graceful way, almost like a dancer before taking her first step in her routine. But her eyes were filled with fear in spite of her blank expression. The little girl turned and ran, a small sound leaving her as she ran at full speed past Lior. She didn’t even move, or at least not at first.
Twirling a pale strand of hair around and around on finger, she looked over her shoulder with a bored expression to see Leah bound into action at the end of the hall, hissing at the little girl with every ounce of ferocity she could muster. Given how the child backpedaled and fell flat on her rear, it worked. Lior slowly strode forward, heels clicking loud enough to echo easily through the wide halls. The little girl hurried to her feet and Lior sighed.
”Hiss, hiss, halt.”
Frost shot out from where Lior’s feet met the floor, marking glittering patterns over the already gleaming tile. It hit the little girl’s feet and hardened, moving up over her shoes and stopping only at her knees. Growing thicker to firmly freeze her in place, she squirmed and squeaked as the chill stung through her skin. Lior stepped forward and knelt beside her again. The gentle smile she wore lacked any form of warmth, almost as chilling as the ice. Her gaze was frozen, gleeful in a way that seemed manic, and without a single ounce of care. She tucked a lock of hair behind the little girl’s ear and held the side of her face in one hand.
“Don’t worry, dear. You and your mother will be together forever this way, right after I make you perfect as you were always meant to be.”
Post by Dante Giovanni on Aug 5, 2014 20:11:37 GMT -5
Dante would give anything to make the fire in his lungs die out. The flames burned the back of his throat. The fury never left him, not entirely, and now he had a headache to show for it from grinding his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn’t crack. His entire body was tense even as he tried to relax. He was well hidden for being in such a large and loud city. Don’t they ever shut up? He wasn’t even near anyone, but he could somehow still hear the voices associated with the busy streets bustling full of people better suited for night rather than day.
Crouched just around a corner that led far into an outlet between four alleyways, Dante leaned back against the bricks and tried to breathe. He needed an outlet or he was going to tear his fucking hair out. Covering his ears wasn’t working. Dante drew his knees up to his chest and put his head down, crossing his arms as he tried his best to curl into a ball and shut out the rage. His fingertips dug into his upper arms, leaving future bruises even through the fabric of the sweatshirt he wore. Maybe he should move, run to release some of the tension, find somewhere more secluded so he could scream himself hoarse until his lungs stop burning.
Footsteps started to echo towards him, ringing in his ears in a way that made him shake his head to get them out. In an instant he felt like screaming anyway to scare them off, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. It had been so long since he’d had a proper outlet. Dante wasn’t about to let it pass by.
“Luke seriously, it’s way too dark, let’s just go back and take the long way around.”
“I know where I’m going, Emma, just trust me. It’s a shortcut.”
Really? Two? Two idiots at once? Bothersome. Dante ignored how their footsteps and irritating voices grated on his nerves until they go close. He knew when they were in the crossroads of the alleyways because he heard the girl quietly gasp. When he didn’t move, the one of them stepped forward, though it was a mystery as to whom until they spoke.
“Hey buddy, you okay?” What the fuck kind of question was that? Dante could feel the tentative touch to his shoulder that was coming, but that wasn’t quite quick enough or terrorizing enough for him. Rather than wait for the inevitable, Dante jerked his head to the side so they could see his face, expression blank save for the positively livid look in his eye. The off colors residing in his gaze were likely what threw shock onto their faces first. Blackened sclera, blue immediately around the pupils before shifting sharply into the honey-gold they used to be and then reaching into maddened red. When they’d changed, Dante didn’t know or care, but his eyes were now the reason he kept his hood up.
“I’m on the ground against a brick wall in the fucking fetal position. What the fuck do you think?” As Dante spat out his answer at the stranger, he watched his expression turn from shocked discomfort to thinly veiled fear. The girl behind him covered her mouth. The boy tried to retract his outstretched hand, but Dante was quicker. “Know what? Why don’t I show you exactly how not okay I am?” he snarled as he grabbed the other young man’s hand so hard he felt his knuckles pop as the girl in the background squeaked and backed away, her face the definition of fright.
One little touch was all it ever took. It needed to be skin on skin to work which may have been irritating if it weren’t so easy with how touchy people seemed to be. Dante felt the burn lessen as some of the rage rushed out of his body and into his victim’s, odd eyes trained on the other young man as he jolted when the seething rage rocked into him. There was relief, reprieve, but it wouldn’t last for long and it definitely was enough. Dante needed more if he was going to begin to approach being functional for any stretch of time. Empathy was only helpful if he had someone to use it on, but at least watching his victim’s face contort with the anger he’d shoved into them was well worth the transfer every damn time. It almost got him to smile again.
He stood up but made no attempt to back away as he released his grip on him. The other young man clenched his hands into fists, shaking like a leaf with how much fury Dante had given him. Dante really couldn’t care less how the guy was feeling considering it was only what he felt every day give or take the grinding of teeth and the constant feeling of always needing to scream. Dante held his arms at his sides, appearing far more stable but also far too still. He looked visibly tense, like he desperately wanted to move, head cocked to the side as he watched the other with a rather irritated expression. The other young man glared at him, already dialing up his voice from quiet concern to full on yelling at him. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
Dante rolled his head back up and arched his brows. It was as close to taunting as he could manage nowadays. “Something terrible,” he replied in a sarcastic tone. Technically the truth, but clearly not the truth the stranger wanted as he drew back his arm and took a swing at his face. Dante snarled. “Oh, please.”
Dante ducked out of the way, locked his right hand around the young man’s vulnerable wrist, and then yanked him forward towards him. He grabbed onto the other’s opposite shoulder, pulled him around and bent his arm at a deliberately painful angle behind his back. Dante turned to the young man was kept close to him but facing forward, planting his left hand around his neck just tightly enough to make him sweat even as he struggled. He struggled and scratched at the hand over his throat, but Dante paid no mind. In Dante’s opinion, it was high time to get to the main event of this pitiful attempt at a show. With the grip Dante had on him, more overwhelming fury pumped into the young man’s body. He’d hardly need to do anything other than make a few suggestions.
“Good God, man, get a hold of yourself!” Dante was full on mocking him now, leaning in close to him but staring straight ahead at the girl still lingering and watching like a deer in headlights. “You can’t possibly be that stupid,” Dante hissed in his ear, “This isn’t my fault, it’s her fault. If she had just pushed a little more, you would’ve listened to her, right? If she’d grown a God damn backbone, you wouldn’t even be here!” Dante twisted the young man’s wrist for emphasis before shoving him roughly forward. “She got you into this. I think a show of poor common sense like that deserves some discipline, don’t you?”
There were two possibilities. The young man could turn right around and go after him anyway, potentially letting the girl go, which would mean a chase. Or, it could be the one that quickly unfolded in front of him. All Dante had to do was let him go. The young man was so hopped up on anger; he could barely move correctly, his movements jerky and stiff. Dante by comparison felt almost static, his own rage being nothing but a dull thrum leftover in his nerves to remind him that it was still there, and that it would come back. It always came back.
The girl was frozen in fear, doing little more than shaking her head and trying to inch along the wall, granted she was going the wrong way to make for an escape. The young man snarled and rushed her, grabbing her by the shoulders and throwing her to the ground. Dante leaned against the adjacent wall at an angle on one shoulder, head lulled to one side as he watched the girl try to struggle and scream as the young man started to bring a closed fist to the side of her face. Again, and again, and again with a wild growl accompanying each blow. Dante didn’t smile, he didn’t smirk or sneer. He watched with an overall blank and humorless expression, the only intensity coming from odd eyes and how cold they’d become.
Blood was flung in speckles and spots along the filthy pavement.
Dante watched the young man’s blows slowly weaken and wane long after she’d stopped moving. Her jaw hung at an awful ankle, the left portion of her skull caved in, and with several teeth shining dimly where they’d been flung. One eye was out of its socket, and her nose was knocked back into her face, making the front of it concave. Dante righted how he was standing and waited. The young man straddling his now dead companion was panting like an angry beast, blood coating his hands and with a face like thunder. Slowly, he turned to throw a ferocious look over his shoulder at Dante who rolled his eyes. “Oh no. I’m so scared. Shaking, even.”
Whether it was the monotone in which he spoke or his previous manipulation that set the guy off, Dante didn’t know and didn’t really care about, but the young man slowly rose, shoulders low and standing rigid and ready to charge. “You made me do this!” he bellowed. Dante didn’t even let a beat pass.
“Yes I did. In other news: it’s dark out,” he snapped, leaning forward with a hardened look on his face. “Are we done stating the obvious now, or should I just jump ahead to the part where I dig my nails under your skin and peel your ugly face off?”
That got him. The young man charged at him with an angry roar, eyes wild. Dante waited for him to get within range and then quickly rocked back into a stance that stabilized him enough so he could spin and plant a round-house kick right into the side of the other’s head. The guy flew to the opposite side of the alleyway crossroads and landed in a heap, groaning and holding his head before rolling towards Dante and curling into a ball. His whining was as irritating as it was satisfying. Dante kicked at the ground with the foot he’d used to knock the guy down, taking note at how the burn was beginning to return to char his lungs and singe his stomach.
Frowning, he slowly approached the cringing and crying form of his next victim. Dante heard him growl once he got close and clicked his tongue, pulling a leg back and nailing him in the ribs. He felt something go pop before the guy tumbled several feet and hit the wall, but he couldn’t be entirely sure what it was. Ribs? Sternum? Either way, it made the burn fade a little bit more before it flared back up again, but not quite to full intensity. If a good beating would keep the anger at bay, then so be it. He needed a clearer head to get someplace safer anyhow.
Dante kicked the young man over, regarding him in a way that was once again eerily calm save for the harsh gaze he gave him. Dante waited for the other to try and lock his eyes onto his face. It took him a moment given he’d likely cracked his skull, but when he did Dante again shifted one of his legs. He brought his foot down onto the guy’s right knee; grinding the kneecap out of place with his heel and feeling the leg bend backwards. The screaming for once was music to his ears rather than nails on a chalkboard. Sighing, Dante stepped back, cast another dull look at his victim. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, the monotone returning to his voice. “I’m not going to peel your ugly face off.”
There was a witch who lived in the forests of Ireland. Stella Riordan. The girl travelled from forest to forest in vain attempts to protect her familiar. As a witch, Stella was able to associate herself with three species. Witches, humans, and martens. Witches went without saying, and she could disguise herself as either of the other two. More or less, at least. Her “human” appearance had the tail and ears of a marten. To other witches that might have proved troublesome, but not to Stella.
The witch didn’t like humans very much. She much prefered to be in the form of a marten, only returning to her other form if she needed to meet with other witches or humans for some reason. Because of this, she had witnessed first hand how cruel humans could be. They were quick to consider her kind pests even if they weren’t harming anyone. Even worse, they sometimes hunted the martens for sport, among other woodland critters.
She couldn’t let the acts of humans get to her, though. If she did, she’d go insane. Instead, Stella attempted to use her powers for the betterment of the woodland creatures of Ireland. She’d kill off deforesting companies by the use of her spells. Stella specialized in Alveromancy. Divination by sounds. She could kill people by methods that couldn’t be traced. It was not only easy, but effective.
Stella was never the biggest fan of using such violent methods to get her way, but she really had no choice. No one would listen to her otherwise. No one ever listened to her. No humans, at least. Petty as they were, Stella resented them. She resented them more than anything, as they seemed to ruin everything.
The witch was bad with telling time. She had forgotten how old she was. Two hundred years? That seemed about right. Those two hundred or so years ago her mother had died in childbirth, hadn’t she? Whatever. She was a human, and nothing good ever came from those. And of her father? A meister. There must have been witch blood coursing through her mother’s veins, as meisters and witches were sworn enemies.
The father tried to take care of her at first. He knew she was a witch, having the ability of soul perception and all. But he didn’t last long. Ten years past, and the poor man could no longer take it. He had cut his ties to almost everyone he had known, and moved into one of the many forests of Ireland, though Stella failed to remember which one. He had decided to leave her in that tiny house inside of the forest and go off to live the rest of his life away from his daughter.
What became of that idiot man was a mystery.
Soon after he left, a witch had appeared. She had proved useful, teaching Stella how to use her powers and other witch related activities. Once Stella could fend for herself, she left. This meant Stella was left all alone...
Or at least she would have been. Instead, Stella saw the value in the animals that weren’t humans. All of them seemed to be so much kinder, and the girl found solace in using her powers to help the animals. She saw no value in petty humans.
With a heavy sigh, Stella fiddled with the faux fur scarf that hung around her neck. ”What’s taking her so long?” She muttered to herself. The person Stella was waiting for was a person who frequently performed at the nightclub she stood outside of. She was worthless. Merely a pawn in Stella’s plan. Though, the plan was honestly a bit silly in Stella’s opinion.
She had been following a contractor in her marten familiar form around the city of Ballincollig for some time now. It was about time he decided to go to a place that she could actually do something in. Stella figured that if she killed the guy they’d halt - or at least stall - all plans to destroy part of her forest to build some dumb human construction. That had worked before. Death certainly scared people.
Soon enough, the woman Stella had been waiting for entered the building. Good. By this point, Stella had forgotten her name. Not that it mattered. That name would be nothing but a faded memory to anyone soon enough anyway. Waiting a few minutes until after the woman had entered the club, Stella followed.
The “employees only” section was cut off by a bouncer. Probably there to keep the drunkards from harassing the performers. Eck. Humans could be so barbaric, it seemed. Stella glanced towards the guests. There was her guy. Drunk. She could probably kill him now just as easily without putting on such a big show, but that wouldn’t be as fun, now would it? Stella leaned against a wall, looking as though she was waiting for someone. These blocks would be easy enough to get rid of.
“Mar mar marten ten mar mar.”
With these magic words, the two men both shifted their attention to something else in the guests area. They weren’t sure what the sound they had heard was, but regardless both left for a minute or two to see. This allowed Stella to slip into the restricted area with no heads turned.
The woman had slipped into the dressing room. There was only one. The place was pretty small, after all. Or it at least seemed that way. Honestly, Stella had never been to one of these places before. She’d only heard of them. Probably for the best, as it was a human hang out. And, of course, Stella wasn’t the biggest fan of humans.
The girl knocked on the door. Soon enough, the woman who she had been tailing answered. She looked confused seeing Stella there, what with the witch looking like a performer herself. The woman seemed to expect Stella to explain her appearance, but was not expecting the words that Stella actually spoke. ”My apologies.” The witch said, entering the room and closing the door behind her. Right after she had said that, she spoke her chant again. ”Mar mar marten ten mar mar.”
The performer looked as though she was about to yell at Stella. But, instead, she covered her ears and looked to be trying to protect her head. What was that screeching?! It was destroying the poor woman’s brain. She had tried to scream, but Stella’s hand was covering her mouth. Not that she would have heard her own scream anyway. Eventually, the sound became so loud that the woman’s body went limp.
That had gone just like clockwork. Now it was just a question on what to do now. Stella really hadn’t thought out this plan well. Glancing around the room, Stella spotted a purse. Fumbling through the wallet that had been left inside it, she found that the woman’s name had been Saorise. Perfect. Stella would simply say she wasn’t feeling great and had asked for Stella to play as her replacement. Too easy.
And it had gone just like that. Stella made her way to where backstage was. She had been stopped, but when she explained that Saorise didn’t feel well and that she - as her friend - was simply subbing in for her they let her through. Stella supposed they were just happy that they wouldn’t need to change any transactions in regards to the singer’s payment. Whatever. Stella took her place up on stage, and begun to sing.
The witch was a rather good singer. She had had a lot of time to practise, after all. Despite her beautiful voice, no one paid her any attention. How annoying. Those damn humans always seemed to ignore her until she really did something that got to them. So once again, the girl said her magic little chant, causing the room to fall quiet. The people begun to reach for their ears as to try to block out the screeching. Despite the fact they wouldn’t be able to hear her, Stella spoke.
”Now please, sing for me.”
After these words had parted her lips, the audience broke out into a choir of screams. Soon enough their bodies fell limp. Oh, how very frail the human body was.
Stella giggled to herself overlooking the carnage before her, and bowed. Oh, what a beautiful song that had been.
Post by Elias Larenz on Aug 20, 2014 2:28:56 GMT -5
Everything was give and take. Telling himself that over and over was how Elias got through most of the hardships life threw at him. For example, his disability meant that he was limited in terms of activities he could participate in. At the same time, not being able to feel pain came in handy at times. Or for another example, the fact that he was a solo weapon.
Being a solo weapon meant that Elias had to do missions alone. He couldn’t exactly be wielded, nor did he possess the ability to be a meister. It was a shame, honestly. The boy wished there was someone to play off his weaknesses and pick up some of his slack. He believed Soul Perception also would probably come in handy every now and again. But, then again, it was also good that no one had to deal with him. It was unlikely anyone would. Heck, if he wasn’t a solo weapon he wouldn’t have progressed so far so quickly.
Elias had advanced from the NOT classes rather recently. In fact, this would be his first mission as a one star student. His first fight against a kishin. He was rather nervous about it. Thankfully, the area wasn’t too hot. Norway was a rather cold country, actually. It was a nice change to how often he overheated at Shibusen, despite his high tolerance to heat. Even so, being in the woods away from civilization would prove fatal if the boy did pass out from excessive movement. He’d have to be careful.
The boy had arrived at the place the kishin was supposed to be already. But it was nowhere to be seen. The pond it was supposed to be around wasn’t nearly deep enough for Elias to not be able to see the thing from the deepest depths. He was also already partially transformed into his weapon form. It was a rather simple partial form. His right forearm had transformed into a simple metal rod. A metal rod that could burn anything it touched, even setting dryer objects on fire. Sure, his full weapon form of a Parrilla might have been just a tad silly, but one couldn’t argue with how nifty his partial form was.
Of course, it wasn’t like he could put that to much use if the damn thing didn’t come out. This was one of those situations Elias wished he was a meister instead of an unweldable weapon. The kishin couldn’t be far. He stood against a tree so the thing didn’t try to take him out from behind. Elias suspected it to be quiet, after all. Always expecting the worst tended to work in his favor.
Though Elias was on his guard, he had not expected what looked to be a whale’s tail suddenly hit his side, throwing him over and to the side. The creature stayed back, not making any more attacks while Elias was vulnerable. Confident little bugger, huh? Despite being violently thrown to the side, Elias was able to easily get off. The tail was blunt. He wasn’t bleeding. Good. Bleeding was always annoying. He might have broken some ribs, but he’d worry about that later.
Once Elias was back on his feet, he managed to get a good look at the kishin. Huh. Some kind of fish wolf hybrid. Orca, maybe? It had rather long claws. It snarled, showing sharp teeth. Joy. Those would be a problem, wouldn’t they.
Soon enough, the kishin charged at Elias. It looked as though it was going to bite him. Easy enough. Elias was good at dealing with straightforward attacks, it was the more stealthy ones that’d actually be a bother. The bite was met by an iron rod, which kept the kishin’s mouth just far away enough for Elias to be sure it couldn’t move any further and actually cut him with the fangs. The creature probably wasn’t expecting such a bold move, but Elias needed to be as bold as possible.
Why? Too much movement was never a good idea for him. His fire elemental soul allowed him a higher tolerance to heat than most, but that didn’t help much when he had no way of fending it off. No sweating, etc. Elias couldn’t be slowed down by pain, so it made sense to just be as reckless as possible and get the fight over as soon as possible. He didn’t care about how many injuries he sustained anyway.
The kishin was continuing to try to gnaw through the rod in it’s mouth, but soon noticed it gaining heat. It’s mouth was starting to burn! The creature quickly withdrawn, giving Elias ample time to hit the side of it’s head with the hot rod. The kishin stumbled, a bit dazed by the burning sensation. Elias backed up, not feeling confident enough to take the offensive. With how straightforward the thing had been last time, he was hoping it’d try to charge again.
And, to Elias’ content, it did. This time the kishin went for an attack with it’s claws. Huh. Easy enough to block, even if the heat wouldn’t hurt it this time. Ah, wait, no. The kishin was instead going to attack from the left, meaning Elias would have to dodge the attack. He kept his forearm out slightly as to protect his side. That arm wasn’t important, but if the creature hit his side it could be fatal. Eck. Annoying.
Of course, the kishin had anticipated Elias moving like this. It had gathered how reckless the kid was, knowing that any head on attack would be met with an equally head on counter. So while it appeared to be trying to hit his left, the kishin would actually hit his right.
The kishin wasn’t subtle enough to fully trick Elias, of course. The blonde noticed just soon enough to be able to block that attack with his partial form. Even so, that didn’t stop the recoil. How on earth was that thing so strong? It easily flung him to his left.
And into a tree, accompanied by snapping and crunching sounds.
Ah. That wasn’t a good sound, was it? Ah... His left arm wasn’t in a good position to be slammed into a tree, was it? Elias quickly stood up and moved away from the tree, making sure the kishin didn’t charge again. No blood on the tree. Good. That meant whatever had happened wouldn’t be too much of a big deal. Elias turned his back to tree, preparing for the kishin’s next attack. He’d put his arms up in a defensive gesture, but only one moved. Huh. He must have broken the other one, then. Joy. Ah well. He only needed the arm that held the partial form anyway. The kishin charged again. What was it doing this time? A bite? Had it not learned it’s lesson?
Simply blocking that attack wouldn’t really do it’s justice, though. Elias needed to end this quickly. He was probably beginning to overheat, with all the stress his body was going through. So, the boy ducked as the kishin approached, and managed to shove the metal rod through it’s throat, holding it there til it’s body went limp.
Then, he removed the rod, and let out a sigh of relief. ”Well, that wasn’t too bad...” He muttered to himself, then looked at the kishin. Huh. Why was there blood on it’s claws? Right claws, to be specific. Elias returned his right arm to it’s normal state, and brought it to his left side. Ah. He was bleeding. Fantastic.
Normally Elias would have seared the wound shut. It was easy enough and did it’s job. It probably would have hurt like hell, but that didn’t matter to him. He could deal with just putting some pressure on it for now. The boy took off the light jacket he wore and tied it around where the injury was. He wasn’t sure how tight it was, but it would have to be good enough for the few moments it’d stay like that.
Hm. Elias felt as though he was forgetting something. He glanced at the deceased kishin again. Ah, right. The corrupt soul. Elias walked towards the kishin and grabbed the soul. He was supposed to eat it, right? Weird, but he’d ignore that and do as he was supposed to anyway. So, Elias consumed the soul. Now it was just an issue of getting back to civilization and ignore whoever reprimanded him for getting so beat up on such a simple mission...
Post by Avery Sovereign on Aug 21, 2014 20:33:30 GMT -5
Running home from school Avery carried a backpack full of books down the driveway that led up to the campsite she was staying at. Hefting the bag over next to the side of a tent she quickly ran off to find where her mother was among the others. Pigtails bouncing against her Avery continued weaving through the tents until running across one where a group of people sat discussing a pile of text. Standing by the tent flap Avery caught her breath for a moment before knocking on the wooden tent pole to get their attention. The group of people looked up from the table and a few gave Avery smiles or waves as her mother stood up and left the group to join her daughter.
”So how was school? Learn anything interesting today?”
”It was pretty fun. We haven’t started anything new but we’re almost done with a chapter in history.”
”Maybe you can help us with a site soon, little things at first but soon enough you’ll be pointing out things in manuscripts with the rest of us.”
Avery beamed at her mother’s words as the two walked away from the campsite and toward an open space away from the tents. Once they were a decent distance away Avery moved off to stand and face her mother. The two stared at each other in silence like they had many times before until her mother gave a nod and Avery began what she had practiced. Raising her arms above her head she took a deep breath before slowly lowering her arms and exhaling. When her arms reached her sides her eyes closed in concentration. A moment later and her left feet took on a dark green glow before transforming into the crescent blade of her yet undiscovered weapon form.
Opening her eyes and seeing the partial form taking up her foot her face showed visible frustration. Stomping her transformed foot and leaving a cut in the earth Avery let out a groan of frustration and deactivated her partial form. Balling her fists at her sides it was clear the failure to fully transform was getting to Avery. Her mother remained passive and let her daughter vent her frustration before giving her advice. Keeping a comforting look on her face she stayed where she was and spoke softly to Avery.
”That’s just one attempt. Focus of the feeling you get when your foot transforms and imagine the blade that rest in your soul. Concentrate on it and follow what you feel in your soul.”
Avery let out a huff but relaxed and returned to a standing position facing her mom. Raising her arms she went through the motions again and closed her eyes in concentration. Her breathing became rhythmic and shallow while her attention moved inward and her consciousness drifted. The weight of the blade was familiar but she focused on the feeling of her foot transforming and went with it. Clearing her mind she concentrated on the feeling and focused on giving it the form of the weapon in her soul.
With her focus on the feeling her other senses began to dull and only the feeling became important. Around her was simple darkness that stretched out like a void to further separate her from her surroundings. A spark of green light appeared for an instant before vanishing as quickly as it came. Avery focused on the spark and it came again, lasting longer this time but still only for a few seconds. Tightening her focus everything became centered around that spark until she couldn’t even feel her own body.
The spark bloomed in green light that remained in the round shape of an orb. Reaching for the light Avery felt her body going toward it even though only the orb was visible in the darkness. As she moved closer the orb began to flatten and stretch, becoming thinner and larger. Avery continued to move closer to the orb with all of her concentration until it was within her grasp, sending a wave of a strange yet familiar feeling through her body. Externally Avery remained standing as she had been in silence until a dark green light formed around her foot and spread over the rest of her body. Once it covered her it twisted and stretched before breaking away and leaving a seven foot axe where she had been.
A moment of silence passed before Avery’s face appeared in the blade of the axe with a stunned expression on it. Shortly after it broke as a smile spread across her face in excitement. As the smile was returned by her mother a deep green light spread over the axe and transformed back into the human form of Avery. Once she was back into the form of a girl Avery began to hop into the air in her excitement. She had finally transformed into a weapon like her mom and could go to Shibusen! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Waiting among the other students in the gym Avery anxiously kept her eyes on the bin in the center. She was a one star student like the others around her and also like them she had yet to find a partner. With the battle festival coming up the pressure was on to find someone or else she would have to miss her first battle festival as a Shibusen student! The teacher stood next to the bin and was about to call out the next numbers to attempt to assist in partnering the students. Avery closed her eyes and hoped her number would come up soon.
”M29 and W12.”
Her eyes shot open and quickly glanced at the number on her paper. 12! Standing up she headed to the center as the other weapons sitting on the bleachers watched and waited for their own turn. Standing to the left of the teacher Avery nervously adjusted her glasses and hoped for the best. Across from her was meister 29, a taller boy with dark hair and tanned skin wearing not a single part of a uniform. Trying to be optimistic she gave him a smile which he returned albeit his seemed much more cocky.
”Alright then, Mr. Cruz and Ms. Leblanc, begin.”
The boy nodded in recognition and Avery wasted no time in starting. Her body consumed in dark green light it transformed into the shape of an axe and manifested in front of the boy for him to grab it. Once the light left and the axe was only made of simple black metal he took the weapon from the air and adjusted his grip to it. Avery could feel his wavelength and how it matched up to her own. It was a new experience despite how much she had read about it. Looking out at the others from inside her weapon form she could see the teacher nod before the next step began.
Avery had never felt the sensation of being swung before but it was much less of an issue than it sounded. The boy swung her with ease and sliced through the air in clean arcs. The weight didn’t seem to bother him and she felt no discomfort from his wavelength as well. After he had managed to swing her in a full circle and smack the set up dummy the teacher called it a wrap and she transformed back.
”Looks like we match pretty well, so do you want to become a team?”
”Of course! Oh, I’m Avery by the way.”
”Awesome! And Martin.”
The two exchanged a grin before returning to the bleachers so the other students would have a chance to find a partner. ----------------------------------------------------------------------
The beam of light came from above as usual and Martin had to jump out of the way before it crashed into the ground. He kept running forward across the field at the witch who mockingly stood in the distance. She was coming into view but she was still far enough away that they couldn’t hear her chanting. As the white circle of light began to form in the sky Avery did what she had been doing for the majority of the fight.
”Watch out, here comes another!”
Martin jumped out of the way again as the beam of light shot down and left another silver mark upon the ground. With the figure of the witch coming into view the two had the same thought and activated their soul resonance. The blade moved to the tip of the pole and transformed into a larger crescent. Swinging toward the witch the blade sliced through the ground and sent a wave of energy toward the figure. Before it made contact a blast of light intercepted it, Avery returned to her normal weapon form and the two rushed forward to see the unharmed witch.
Lowering her arms the witch glared at the team as the dust from the attack settled. Her pale skin reflected the light of the full moon, that which wasn’t covered by the fur coat or long blue mane. Muttering a chant under her breath about the moon and wolves her nails elongated into claws and her eyes became bloodshot disks of yellow. With a howl she lunged at the team only to slam into the pole of Avery.
The impact of the two shoved Martin back and with the witch running at them they continued to be pushed backwards. Martin quickly stepped as best he could to prevent the witch from knocking him off balance. Adjusting his grip Martin allowed the witch to push him over and used Avery to keep her a safe distance away. She attempted to snap at his face but the barrier kept her just out of range. With a visible effort he shoved her away and wasted no time swinging Avery at her neck.
A clawed hand caught the blade and a fanged grin met the team. Pushing gave them no purchase; she was just too physically strong. Keeping the blade in her grasp she began to chant and her free hand began to bulge with muscle. Avery and Martin were trapped for the moment but their thoughts were the same. Focusing on their wavelength they resonated their souls. Avery’s blade began to glow and expand until it was nearly the size of her full weapon form. Pushing with all they had and screaming from the exertion the blade began to push the witch’s hand back. Her free hand shot at the team with claws aimed to slice them first.
With one final burst of strength the blade sliced through her hand and continued on through her neck in one smooth arc. Her body hit the ground in two thuds before blood began to gush out of the wounds. Her blood pooled in a perfect circle and reflected the image of the full moon above, a fitting end for a moon witch. As Martin caught his breath Avery transformed back and supported her meister. When the body fell apart and the canine soul appeared her eyes lit up just looking at it.
Turning away from the soul Avery leapt and hugged Martin in her excitement. The two remained in their embrace for a moment before Avery was let go and ran over to the soul. Picking it up she returned to Martin holding the soul like a prize.
”We did it! Soul number 100!”
”After you take this you’ll be the next death scythe!”
Holding the soul she admired it for a moment before turning to face Martin. Moving closer to her meister Avery drew close to his face and reached her hand out to press against it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Avery woke up when her body collided with the floor. She couldn’t see much from the room being dark and her lack of contacts. When she tried to reach up to her bed she found her limbs were tangled up in the blankets that had fallen off with her. Taking a moment to calmly untangle herself and climb back up to her bed she laid back down in the hastily fixed bed. Turning to the right she saw her roommate was still asleep before staring up at the ceiling. The memories were still fresh in her mind as she mulled them over again. After a few minutes of replaying the thoughts a small smile spread on her face as she closed her eyes.
Post by Sebastian Clarke on Aug 31, 2014 18:01:10 GMT -5
It was a scolding hot day in El Matareya, some would even go as far to say that your own sweat is sweating. Sadly the heat was the last thing on peoples mind, the area was in a rush to leave, the street was packed with cars and people all running to a certain place. or most likely running from something. Upon a closer inspection on the people, horrified faces and screams filled El Matareya. "HELP ME" or "RUN" were among the many different cry's.
"Look their it is over their!!!" A elderly man yelled.
The crowd of people all glanced behind them, a figure shadowy figured was behind them, from where the sun was at in the sky the nearby buildings shade hid the figures appearance. This dark figured looked like it was a person, with some other big shadow to its lower right, could it have possibly been carrying something. The crowds panic only intensified as the figure began to come closer and closer till finally the shadow of the building could no longer cover this "thing" which it's true appearance was slowly revealed. It was a person with black shoes and pants, a blue t-shirt, his left hand was dripping in blood while his right hand was dragging a girl by her hair. Finally his head kept out of the shadow, blonde hair with a almost devilish smirk with blood splattered across his face, it was Sebastian.
The crowd of people began to topple over each other, knocking each other down, almost anything to get away from him. They have been running as fast as they can but Sebastian was simply walking, after all he was carrying a girl who appeared to be still alive from all the kicking and screaming she was doing.
"Please let me go" the woman scream as tears fell from her face.
Sebastian stopped in his tracks. with the hand he was holding her hair with he held it up till her body slowly began to life from the ground, once it was high enough, he let go of her hair, and with the same hand he quickly grabbed her by the neck. As he held her in front of him and she struggled to breathe he could feel her wet tears dripped down on his hand, as she hung there trying to break free from his grip she looked at his face and noticed his eyes were closed as if he wasn't even paying attention to her. Running out of energy and being able to hard breathe she opened her mouth.
"Why..are....y...y...you doing this?" she said gasping for air.
His eyes slowly began to open, revealing blood red eyes that were staring straight at her. Just looking at them could send fear through out your body, the girl gasping for air stared directly at his eyes. She stopped struggling, almost as if she knew this was the end and she couldn't stop it from coming. Her eye's slowly began to close and she began suffocating to death, but before she could Sebastian gave her an answer
"I need.......POWER" he said with a crazed look in his eye
One last tear fell from the girls face before her body shook for a moment which blood then came out of her mouth. Sebastian's other hand was inside her chest area, she died the second he ripped through, with a smirk on his face he removed his hand from the girls body. Once his hand exited her body he let go of her neck and her body hit the floor. Looking at his bloody hand which no longer looked like a ordinary hand but more of a demon type hand, he was holding something, a human soul. He opened his mouth and proceeded to consume the soul.
As he consumed the soul he could feel it, he was becoming stronger, but this wasn't enough, he needed more, he had to kill more! Anyone with a brain would have fled the area by now, the people that were on the street were gone running as fast as they can away from Sebastian, but he could feel something, there were still a few people around, and they were close, he was going to get them. Closing his eyes he walked down the street at a somewhat normal pace, almost as if he was in no rush to keep killing.
After about a minute of walking he stopped, with a smile on his face and his eyes wide opened looking straight ahead he began to speak.
"There you are" he said in a calm voice.
His eyes looked to his left while his head remained look forward, he was looking at a alley with a dead end, all that was there was a fire escape and a dumpster, or so the naked eye would see. Sebastian could feel something else there, with a devilish grin he turned his body and began to walk slowly through the alley. As he did he placed the palm of his hand against the wall and as he walked his nails began to scratch it making a low noise.
After a few seconds he reached the dumpsters, he felt it, whatever it is was hiding behind it. After taking a few more steps he saw it, a boy, no older then about 16, hiding. It could have been possible he got separated from the people who he was with and to avoid being trampled over he hid in the alley, but then was to scared to move. It was all irrelevant now, he was about to meet the same fate the woman before him and so many others faced. Sebastian faced the young kid and his grin slowly faded away to a almost content looking face.
"I'll finish this quickly" He told the boy.
Using his demon hand, he reached out to grab the boy, but then out of the corner of his eye Sebastian caught something, followed directly by a sharp pain in his arm. After feeling that pain he immediately used his other hand to press down on it, after squeezing it for a second he looked at his had, it was covered in blood, fresh blood. This wasn't one of his victims blood, no this was to fresh, this was Sebastian's blood. Looking at the the arm that got hit he saw his blood dripping down to the ground. He immediately turned his head the other way where he thought he saw something, and with a better view he saw it. A figure what appeared to be holding some kind of bow, no this wasn't some stranger he could feel their presence, it was a meister and weapon from Shibusen.
"So they finally caught up to me" Sebastian said in a angered voice.
Sebastian being caught off guard the boy hiding behind the dumpster used this to his advantage and rand past Sebastian to escape the alley. As much as he wanted to chase after him he knew that the meisters ranged weapon would pick him apart at this distance, he needed a plan, and luckily he had one. The dumpster had wheels, so Sebastian using his strength would send it rolling right behind the boy and hopefully the meister from Shibusen would try to get the boy out of the way, this would give him enough time to get onto the fire escape and climb to the roof of the building, and just like he planned, that exactly how it happened.
Once he reached the top of the roof he ran to the center, he quickly glanced around deciding on what direction he was going to go, that's when he heard it.
"Stop right there Sebastian" a voice screamed out.
"That voice...I know it, I heard it before" Sebastian thought to himself.
Sebastian slowly turned around to be greeted by a Katana like weapon an inch away from his face held by a woman with red hair, a woman he instantly recognized. It was Clara, a girl Sebastian met at Shibusen, one of the very few people who he grown attached to. With a face filled with fiery and anger she said said
"You killed 7 people here, and so many more elsewhere, why Sebastian?"
Taking a slow step back he replied "Because of the witches, they use people for their sick little games, discarding anything that doesn't prove useful to them. I will show them, all of them". Closing his eye's he looked up, and said in a low voice, but loud enough for Clara to hear. "Am I powerful enough for you yet, mother".
Opening his eyes Sebastian looked at Clara, but this time she was different, he face changed, it was sad? Tears began to run down her face. Her hand holding the weapon began to shake a little. "Everybody says your no longer you, but even now with those red eyes of yours and blood everywhere, I still see the Sebastian I know, lost and alone, I'm sorry I couldn't save you" Clara said as she began to cry.
"Tears...for me?" Sebastian thought to himself. He was a bit shocked, someone actually cared about him, a person from Shibusen no less. Trying to figure out what to say, he felt something, or multiple somethings. He could sense multiple meisters and weapons closing in on his location. If he were to get away now would be the time, but for that to happen he would have to take down Clara first.
"I'll only say this once.....for you..... get out of my way" he yelled
Wiping the tears from her eyes she replied "You know I can't Sebastian"
Sebastian's arm with the demon hand had lost a lot of blood, it would be as affective right now, but it should be enough at least to get rid of Clara. He hesitated for a moment, for some reason part of him didn't want to hurt her. He clenched his demon hand into a tight fist, looking at Clara, he began to lean forward when...
"Hey Sebastian were going to be late for class" A strange voice said
"Alright I'm coming" Sebastian replied.
Sebastian's pencil stopped writing, he was sitting at his desk writing something with a huge stack of paper with more of his writing to the left of him. "should he kill her, hmmm" Sebastian put his pencil down, he got up from his chair and put on his jacket. He took the huge stack of papers and placed them on top of the paper he was currently working on, then proceeded to pick the stack back up and began walking to the door. Once he reached the door he stopped and looked down at the paper.
"Niina said I should write my own book, but choosing me turning into a Kishin was a bad idea on my part. I'll stick to reading books then writing them". Sebastian then dropped all the papers in the trash for no one will truly know what would happen in that story, and then he walked out the door.
Post by Sable Yokota on Aug 31, 2014 22:59:03 GMT -5
Today was yet another beautiful day in New York City. The sky was clear blue, the sun shined brightly, and the birds were chirping a happy tune. This picturesque view of the city was interrupted only by a lone girl being chased by a fairly intimidating group of men. Said men were wearing dark colors, mostly black, and some of them wore ski masks. Yes these “fine gentlemen” were indeed criminals though the girl they chased was by no means a saint. Just five minutes ago the girl, named Sable, was a member of a gang along with the hooligans that now wanted her dead. They had just finished robbing a store when Sable had the bright idea to change into her partial form, stab the guy in charge of the money, and run off with the bag.
Now here she was, a mere fifteen year old girl running for her life while some goons chased her down. Eventually the chase led the group to one of the city’s many back alleys. “Just calm down guys, we can work this out right?” The blue haired girl asked while backing into the alley. Though Sable was of course a demon weapon she was honestly a little nervous. Despite her abilities they still outnumbered her four to one.
“Look you can have the money. I was just playin’ around anyway…” Sable chuckled nervously near the end. She eyed the goons up and down, each one of them had a gun and could kill her any time they wanted. She’d have to be careful if she wanted to get out of this alive. “This isn’t just about the money.” One of the men said. He had what could only be described as a stereotypical New York accent only a lot more slimy. “We’re tired of the boss treating you like you’re special just ‘cause you can turn into some sorta weapon.” He and the other men started reaching for their guns as he talked. “Consider yourself outta the gang.” Before a shot could be fired, Sable threw the bag of money at the man in order to daze him. She then quickly went into her partial form and stabbed the man in the stomach, keeping him right in front of her to act as a human shield against the bullets now being shot by the other gang members.
The next few moments seemed like a blur to Sable, as if she was in some sort of trance. With her “shield” still in front of her she rammed into one of the other gangsters and pushed the man she used as a shield into another gangster. The remaining gang member merely stood there shocked, giving Sable time to twist the gun out of his hand and stab him just as she did to the first gangster.
When her little trance ended she looked around surprised at the chaos she had just caused. The girl was honestly quite impressed with herself. Looks like all that training she did with the gang’s leader payed off. As Sable started to catch her breath and brush herself off she noticed little blue orbs coming from the gangsters’ bodies. Curious, she went in for a closer look and grabbed one in her hand. “So this is what a soul looks like.” She said quietly to herself. Sable remembered her father telling her and her sister, Cilla, that if a weapon ever ate ninety-nine kishin souls and one witch soul they would become a powerful Death Scythe. However her father also warned them to never under any circumstances eat a pure human soul for it would only cause an insatiable hunger that would eventually lead to madness. Despite belonging to the scum of the city these were, of course, just normal human souls. Still, Sable had definitely earned some sort of reward for killing these annoying men and frankly anything that would make her stronger was fine by her.
Despite this she hesitated for a moment while still holding the soul in her hand. Was it really worth it? Should she heed her father’s warning or open the gateway to what could be limitless power? These thoughts were interrupted when she heard her sister’s voice. While faint, Sable could at least make out who it was and tell that she was looking for her. Suddenly a lifetime’s worth of memories started flooding back into her mind. All the jealousy and rage she felt towards her sister. How she got her powers first, how her father chose to train only her, how all the other kids liked Cilla better, how Cilla was able to easily find a meister while Sable was left to commit petty crimes with a bunch of scumbag nobodies.
Sable knew what she had to do. If she ever wanted the chance to outdo her sister she would need to eat all these souls and any other souls she came across. Without another thought the girl tilted her head back and dropped the soul into her mouth. It didn’t taste like much but it felt wonderful going down her throat. In fact each time she swallowed one of the souls this feeling of bliss intensified to the point where she just had to have another.
Unfortunately for Sable she would not be able to enjoy this moment for very long as her sister, accompanied by her meister Lloyd, found Sable crouched down in front of one of the bodies.
“Oh my God…!” Cilla exclaimed while holding her hands to her mouth. What the hell was going on? Did her kid sister really do all this? “S-Sable...What happened?” the red-headed girl asked still in a state of shock. Sable simply laughed quietly but it wasn’t a bright and cheerful laugh, it was twisted and maniacal. “You’re still so naive.” Sable said in an unsettling tone. “I’ll tell you what happened. I finally became stronger than you Cilla. I beat you.”
“Beat me? What do you mean?” Cilla was audibly afraid. Contrary to what Sable thought Cilla was far from stupid. Considering the soulless dead bodies laying in pools of their own blood and Sable’s abnormal behavior she had a pretty good idea of what was happening right now.
“Heh-heh...Why don’t I just show you?” Sable then stood up and entered her partial form once again. The blade was different from normal, it was much longer and it’s silver color was replaced by a pitch black while the blue trim remained. Without a moment’s notice Sable rushed at the duo prompting Cilla to quickly transform into her weapon form so that Lloyd could block the incoming attack. “Dammit Sable calm down. Let us help you!” Lloyd yelled while doing his best to block Sable’s strike. As he looked into her eyes he saw that the emerald green irises had turned crimson red and that her eyes were filled with nothing but hate.
“I don’t think I’m the one that needs help here.” Sable pushed Cilla’s naginata form away and slide kicked Lloyd’s feet, making him trip and drop Cilla. She then crouched down on top of him before summoning nearby shadows to envelop her right arm and create a blade. “Looks like it’s the end of the line for you.” Before either Lloyd or Cilla could do anything Sable had lunged her arm down and stabbed Lloyd right through the chest, killing him. All Cilla could do was watch in horror as what used to be her sister killed her meister in cold blood.
“LLOOOYD!” The girl called out, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Sable ignored her sister’s cries of agony simply taking Lloyd’s soul and swallowing it. This soul was by far the best. Not only did it feel great going down but it made her sister nearly cry like a baby. “Stop your whining you little brat. You've gotten everything you wanted your entire life, you can bare the loss of your weakling meister.” Cilla went from feeling heartbroken to feeling seething mad within a matter of seconds. While Cilla did not know exactly what happened in this alleyway she did know this; Her little sister Sable was gone. She had been killed and replaced with this monster.
“I’ll kill you…” Cilla said in a low, barely audible, voice. “Did you say something?” her sister responded sarcastically. Suddenly Cilla jumped up, activated her partial form, and ran at Sable. “I said I’ll fucking kill you!” Sable managed to block her sister’s attack in the nick of time prompting Cilla to unleash a barrage of strikes upon her now evil sister, all of which were easily blocked. “Are you done yet? This is boring me to tears.” She said with a fake yawn.
Sable’s attack was much more sudden and efficient. She promptly slapped Cilla with her backhand and grabbed her by the shirt before forcing her up against the wall. “I’m going to really enjoy this.” the corrupted Sable said with her blade against Cilla’s throat. Before she could cut it, however, both girls heard a police siren. Cilla started to feel relieved upon hearing what normally would be a very annoying sound. She had called the cops just before she and Lloyd entered the alley and she was thankful they had finally arrived. “Dammit...” Is all Sable said before she let go of her sister and disappeared as a shadow on the wall.
When the police arrived they were just as shocked and confused as Cilla was. In the middle of the alleyway Cilla was kneeling next to the body of her meister, Lloyd, crying and gripping him tightly.
Charmie: eyes on fire, knees weak, palms sweaty
Mar 19, 2017 16:15:05 GMT -5
Morrigan: Do I sense lurking?
Jan 31, 2017 13:26:09 GMT -5
Skyye: the application
Dec 18, 2016 22:42:04 GMT -5
Skyye: The place is slower than I like to see. Though I would definitely play with anyone who stops by! If you're new, it's best to look around and see what sort of character you might like to play or be interested in playing. Hit up the rules and go over
Dec 18, 2016 22:41:54 GMT -5
Scarlet Sakura: I am new here, what do you do?
Dec 15, 2016 19:12:49 GMT -5
Minty : should I join?
Dec 9, 2016 19:57:17 GMT -5
sunjikuro: Is this place dead??
Dec 8, 2016 1:22:51 GMT -5