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Post by theliontamer♥ on Dec 1, 2008 15:18:24 GMT -8
Rachel growled lowly under her breath. "This town is infested with their kind. It's impossible not to encounter one at every turn," she replied, chilled. She too smelled the remnants of vampire, but the ones that surrounded Lucian were foreign, faint. She also knew that her half sister's scent remained strong, imposing the air about her and selling her out. She shrank slightly. "You must understand that it is no fault of mine, being plagued by such despicable a creature," she pleaded, knowing she had no choice but to be truthful. "I hold no loyalties to these leeches, nor will I ever. My family," she chose these words carefully, "is none other than my fellow wolves. My kinship with them is the only one that truly matters."
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Post by The Wolfman on Dec 2, 2008 14:37:10 GMT -8
"Fair enough," Lucian said with a smile, putting his hand to her back and leading her back to the main room where Caius was sitting and waiting. "So my dear brotheren, what shall we disscuss?" as Lucian said his he picked up his small glass full of liquer and downed in in one sip.
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Post by Her Royal Highness on Dec 28, 2008 2:21:45 GMT -8
ooc: okay... i need to get back into this somehow
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Dec 28, 2008 21:33:47 GMT -8
ooc: i think i was gonna have theoris encounter her....or something of that sort. or even kanika
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Post by Her Royal Highness on Dec 28, 2008 23:32:08 GMT -8
ooc; that'd be great. i want her changed. course now i'm toying with the idea of throwing cassandra from the original lychen rp into this since the otherone doesnt look like its ever gonna pick up since this one's going strong
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Jan 29, 2009 23:49:07 GMT -8
ooc: Cool. I was considering bringing Selene back, but I haven't decided yet....and that other guy...I forget what I named him.
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Feb 4, 2009 20:53:52 GMT -8
Food drew quickly the others away, leaving the solitary redhead half hidden in the shadows, a single street lamp illuminating the right side of her body. The brilliant emerald of her dress shimmering dully in the flickering light. Shadows obscured her angry features, grasping at her cheekbones and pulling everything except the very brightest shine in her eyes into the encompassing darkness. Ivory morphed to gray in the darkness, a statue perched watchfully over the tiny plaza, half dead and half alive, created of stone yet turned to life by the light, a dazzling eruption of emerald and ivory that possessed the power to spark passion into the hearts of even the most docile being. But if they could see her eyes, see the curve of her neck and the terrible power and unforgiving wrath that lay, clinging to each slender curve of the cheek, just beneath the surface, they would understand the terror she reveled in, the horrors she created, the vendetta she conducted against any and all. She concealed it when she wished, but as she stood, half shadowed and half bathed in the unstable light, there was no attempt to curb the cold nothingness that radiated into the deepening night. "I wish so that you stop being unnecessarily cross with me," a disappointed voice broke the lingering silence, perturbing the air as it hung heavily with her solitary rage. The statue did not respond, the shadows clinging to her skin, motionless. She did not breathe. She did not shiver in the cold night's air, nor did a blink disrupt her perfect stillness. "I wish so often you do not unnecessarily bother me." The words, soft, silent, flying through the air with harsh intentions, caused the man who stood, staring at her, across the plaza, to flinch, a superhuman gesture of such grace and precision that it hardly seemed the cowardly deference it truly was. "Ce-" He seemed to catch himself and steadied before continuing. "Theoris," he pleaded with her, "I cannot fathom your hatred of me." Emerald eyes caught hers and held her there, her biting remark caught on her tongue. "Do not chastise me with your words, I am not your servant and I am no less than you!" A cheek turned, the bitter edges softened, minimally, bathed her face in ever changing light. Dull eyes flickered briefly with remorse and he held her there. She had been caught. "I remain your faithful companion, as I have always promised," he amended, to put her at ease and diminish the distrust he had just harbored. Because his eyes burned emerald and his words held soothing promises, she believed him, and he did not lie. "Hatred bears false promises, Abel," she reminded him, her voice a whisper over the wind. But she was closer now, fully in the light, facing him. "Why pretend that you do not hate me for what I did to you? I do not, and nor should you." Still she remained a statue, her chest neither rising nor falling with emotional breath, nor her eyes blinking away furious tears. He, on the other hand, drew closer, a fluid motion that closed the distance between them and pulled her into his grip. Not quite an embrace, nor a furious display of strength, his hold gentle and unbreakable all at once. "I suppose nothing I would say would cause you understanding," he remarked, the light in his eyes blinking out before he was gone, his touch naught but a cold reminder of what had been. Again, she was alone, no sound of life nor death within her reach. He could not tolerate her hate, and she could not tolerate his understanding. He could not understand; he did not understand what life had been. He could only understand what her life was now, and she could not tolerate this shortcoming.
Silence. There was only silence. Imposing silence that clung to everything: each leaf trembled with silence, each droplet of water was lost to it. The praying man, dead by Theoris' hand, lay obscured completely by suffocating silence. It would never again let him break free. And for the moment Theoris, too, was lost to the rhythmic flow of nothing. Even the howling wind submitted to the pressures of silence and ceased to howl, even as it ruffled the silent leaves and rippled the noiseless water. Somehow the silence was fitting of immortality. Somehow, Theoris found it much simpler to tread along, immersed in this voiceless charade, than engage herself in petty humanity. Everything would eventually be lost. Silence, however, was immortal, as steady and constant as she.
Even disrupted, it continued to thrive, waiting to fill the air once more, remaining long after the very last echo had faded. However, it never went uninterrupted for long enough. In the distance she heard a rising terror, the footfalls of enemies and traitors, the tottering gait of clumsy paws working quietly through the night. The wolves could not appreciate the silence like she could. And she knew, even as they grew distant and less obtrusive, that Rachel paraded after these figures, her gait distinct and daunting, louder and less graceful than the other two pairs. Already perturbed, the creature fled, leaving the plaza haunted only by the fearful mutterings of a dying faithful. No Ave Maria could save mortality from a vampire. Theoris laughed bitterly to herself, nothing more than a whisper to passing humans though crystal and piercing to those of her superior senses. Her humors shifted as she drew nearer the party of werewolves, undetected until the winds would shift. Rachel had taken a different path; her scent faded and Theoris knew anger welled even now inside her canine form. The werewolf did not have enough experience with immortality and endless strength to control the rage brought on by human emotion. But this was not her problem and she did not care. No, she bothered more with the giant wolves that loomed just out of her view. She knew they were there, though they had not sensed her. Their words held no meaning to her and if they should have she did not listen. The grumblings annoyed and enraged her further, a terrible reminder of the rivals she hated so fiercely. Her sister's gentle grey coat stirred her to an unusual compassion, and she refused to peer across the tree strewn ravine to peek in upon the conspirators perched in back alley shadows. But there was another, a frail heartbeat that resonated fearfully through her own blood stream, that interested her. This one lingered away from the wolves, caught unaware in a terrible moment of panic. Her pulse raced; she had already been nervous before encountering the fearsome giants that she, undoubtedly, expected to seize her from life and throw her to death effortlessly. They ignored her. Theoris would have, too, had it not been a morbidly unusual curiosity. This woman roamed the streets at night, alone and in no way protected. She was either very brave, or very foolish. The vampire had no need nor desire to hunt, nor even to feed a second time. Still she closed the gap of distance between herself and the frightened young woman. "I cannot see it. Are you brave, and hiding something? Or are you foolish, and think yourself invincible?" Her own voice seemed foreign, silky and menacing. The silence which she regarded so highly melted away to the terrible loudness of her voice. They were close now, a deadly close that would send the superstitious reeling for mercy and salvation, and Theoris knew, as well she was sure did the woman, that within a second a life could cease to live. But she did not threaten. Each curve shone white as the patchy light fell upon her, the pure emerald stitched into her long skirts shimmered as she flew rather than walked closer. She had no intention of frightening the woman away. She truly was intrigued.
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Post by Her Royal Highness on Feb 5, 2009 22:52:29 GMT -8
Somewhere a few blocks away, she had finally stopped running. Still keeping to the shadows, she tried to start breathing again. Her head was swimming. She couldn’t even begin to try to sort through what she had heard. It was too unbelievable. Such things didn’t exist. But even if the stories were true, what had happened to Raul still made no sense. he hadn’t been drained of blood by some mysterious un-dead being. No, he had been mauled by some creature to great and horrifying to be hiding in such a densely populated area...
“I cannot see it. Are you brave, and hidig something? Or are you foolish, and think yourself invincible?”
The voice, hushed and musical, was the most menacing sound she’d heard, more threatening in it’s sharp sweetness than those deep rough one’s she’d heard only moments before.
The figure drew towards her, draped in vivid green and rustling softly. Who knew that nightmares could be beautiful?
The same fear that had forced her to run for her life now kept her frozen in place. She had stopped breathing again. But a question had been asked. How was she to answer?
“I have been tending one who is now dead.” Her words were no more than a whisper.
Let this unnatural woman, if woman she was, make of that what she would.
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Post by The Wolfman on Feb 8, 2009 0:36:18 GMT -8
Lucian with one swift movement of his wrist flung that glass into the fire and as it hit that flames, a old ancient power on par with his ran through him and as he felt this he sat up and looked at his two guest. "my dear friends, I am terribly sorry for my interruption but I must leave you two, and in my absence I would be honored if you two will keep each other company." and with this Lucian grabbed his jacket from the wall and ran out into the rain following the ancient feeling that was so enticing.
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Post by lions_go_rawr on Feb 9, 2009 21:25:39 GMT -8
Caius watched closely as the two came back into his presence, entering the room looking not at odds, but looking trusting upon one another. He watched Lucian's facial expressions, all giving off clues that nothing about this woman was indeed harmful, that she could be considered well enough to be about their presence. Yet before Caius could question their brother, Lucian had sped off into the night, graciously excusing himself, leaving the house to Caius and Rachel. Caius turned his attention from the door in which Lucian had just exited towards the woman sitting silently.
Her mannerisms were proper enough, taking her place at the table within Lucian's abode, though Caius noticed she still sat quiet, still learning what would be her place among such older immortals such as he or Lucian. Yet Caius was still curious of what conversation could have happened so quickly and suddenly that the two would have appeared back in his presence before he could try to figure out the conversation that went on between them. He dare not listen in on conversation of someone with the respect that he had for the likes of Lucian.
"Rachel,” he said, addressing her directly, “I am curious to know what was spoken about amongst the two of you. I, though having the ability, dare not listen in on a conversation I am not a part of. But, my curiosity still remains, seeing as you two had both returned in lighter moods than before you left." The air in the room stood at a still silence. “Or maybe it would be best to save such explanations for another time, seeing as the silence bearing upon this room is far deafening compared to the lack of voices ringing in the air,” Caius replied casually, sinking back into his chair and grasping his goblet full of liquor.
“And yet, may I take notice once again that we are new to one another’s company, brought together through a single uniting bond of wolfhood under the call of brother Lucian,” at this, Caius stood and raised his glass in a salute of respect their elder, even though his lack of presence. “He brought us into his humble home so that we may recuperate and begin our next steps against the filth that seem be flooding the streets of the territories we used to call our own. But while we are here, let us first put aside all differences we might have, and shed some light upon our pasts. I know that long lives are what we all have known, or that is what I assume. While your life may well be one full of excitement, intrigue, and violence, please do not think me vain as I first proceed in sharing my life with you.” Caius raised himself from his seat to slowly pace the area around the table in which they had come to sit at.
“I have no secrets to keep hidden, at least none from the likes of my own kind. I was born as a mortal long ago in a small town outside of Rome. That must have been almost two hundred years ago, maybe more at that. I’m sure the town is not there anymore if you were to go looking, it never was very large. My family was normal as any other. Farmers, or from what I can recall, that is what my father was. My mother had no other children besides myself, and did all she could to care for my father and I. The middle ages of my life were of no excitement whatsoever. I grew up quickly, getting to the age of my appearance now. The story of my birth as a wolf is a complete other chapter of my life. I was at school, studying to become a more learned man, the first of my family to gain knowledge other than that of farming.
I remember the night I was bitten clearer than any other memory that I hold. The night was the coldest I had ever felt it, and the moon was high in the sky, an ever foreboding sign in the black canvas that was the night about my future that was yet to come. I was walking the streets around the area I lived in, unable to sleep whatsoever. Something about walking that night just seemed so right, a pre-destined path for me to take. Whatever the reason was, I was there. Yet so was the creature that changed me into what you saw of me earlier. I realize now I should have perished on those stone streets that night, but death did not take me. Death will not take me now. After that night, I knew not of what I had become, until that of the full moon the next month. “
He took a pause, raising the glass to his lips and wetting the back of his throat with the liquid within it. Somewhere in the house, the floorboards creaked and whined. Caius closed his eyes and focused back on the memories floating about in his head.
“The transformation hit me like a ton of bricks. The pain that I felt in that first night was the worst pain I had ever felt, even worse than that of the bite that the wolf gave me that fateful night. In my private quarters, I writhed in pain, howling both in human and animal tongues. I broke everything that could be broken in that small confined space. Yet I stayed within that confined vicinity for the night, and the nights after that until the moon waned. I started to fear the moon since that very day, but as time went by, the fear diminished. The feeling that I got when I transformed was such a rush of power that it became a high for me, a rush of adrenaline that I did not to wear away. I began to realize as time went on that I did not start to age, that all of those myths and legends that had been passed about in every culture were all true. I also learned that I could control my phasing and transforming as I, and the wolf within, matured. In my journey in maturing my skills as an immortal being, I came to reside here, in Spain. I’ve lived alone my entire existence as a wolf, never stopping to attempt to hold relations with any partner. I do not know how well that would end for me, especially for whoever is unlucky enough to see me as a respectable romantic partner. The sense of being alone has always suited me. I come and go as I please, though I always seem to return here. And now, especially with Lucian’s call and the inherent threat of the vampires, I have come back for good. At least for the time being.”
Caius moved back to his seat as he finished up his tale of his life. His gaze turned to Rachel, who had sat through his speech, and he could not help but wonder her thoughts on the matter, as well as her own story.
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Feb 12, 2009 22:49:17 GMT -8
The brunette edged gracefully back to her place, following Lucian’s silent command and folding her hands in her lap as she sat, perched easily on the corner of a cushioned parlor chair. If the ease was faked, it was undetectable, but the way she gazed from Lucian to the now silent Caius gave way to cautious trust. Her head turned; her lips parted. The air remained unperturbed except by the smallest sigh of breath. The words had not been said, they lingered, forgotten nothings, somewhere on her tongue. She was gazing at the wall, the tall domed walls decorated with ancient tapestries and creature-like designs. And then they were alone. Two followers, one far superior to the trembling wolf that was still in essence a child, left to stare at one another while the master of house and clan disappeared into the night, following some unsaid calling. Lucian, she realized suddenly, had many more secrets to share, many that were not meant for the others to know. The silence did not last long, however, and she felt Caius’ inquiring and mildly friendly gaze boring into her skin. She did not know what to say, so she was glad when he offered up the first words. She did not realize, however, that his first inquiry would be difficult and the next even more. At his pause and his condoning words, she spoke. She hated the silence, just as he seemed to insinuate. “We spoke merely of my loyalty. I assured him truthfully that my alliances lie solely to my brethren. And why should it be any different?” she paused, growing bold in her statement. “It was no secret, nor anything you should not hear.” He seemed to take her assertion is stride, moving forward in his own train. She paused briefly as he toasted the powerful Lucian, and shamed at her lack of glass, she bowed her head in reverence, a nervous smile lifting her cheekbones even higher. She allowed him the monologue that followed, nor was it her place to interrupt, this story that he was telling to himself as much to her, to the world. Her eyes followed his pacing form, enraptured. She had not before known a different way than her own. No other creature she encountered had bothered to share with her these thoughts, an experience so sacred and personal to the wolves that she herself had never allowed another to see. The flat truth of his words surprised her, and her eyes gleamed darkly as they fixated on his every step. She knew he was not in this realm, that it was the story-telling that consumed him and kept him here, suspended in the present, while the force of the memory dragged him somewhere far in the past.
“I have never heard a story such as yours, nor one so beautifully told,” she stated, awed, as he retook his seat and at last met her gaze. “Mine differs such from yours I hardly dare believe we are of the same kinship, yet I cannot help to feel these differences bring us closer. I come from a small town in the northeast, just inside France’s border. I hold no loyalties to this town for it was the place of many nightmares. I do not, however, forget the place or the things I learned while there.” She spoke as though she was older than reality, a tired quietness filling her words and becoming reminiscent of a wise crone. “I was born in early 1793, at a time when France had fallen to pieces and life had become hard for many. Being where I was, in the town where I lived, we felt little of this. My mother, older sister Cecilia and I lived quite well, removed from much of society but able to enjoy a fairly advanced lifestyle. My sister and I got along quite well as children, and while we were not permitted to attend classes the boys of our village would spend hours sharing their newfound knowledge with us. I can’t say all of it was correct, but some things stuck with me. Nothing else is worth mentioning. My mother was scarce and inattentive, and my sister and I would often slip away into the forests and go exploring, spending hours climbing trees and picking berries. She was beautiful, my sister, beautiful and terrifying. We were so very different, and I always wondered why.”
“The answer came to me on the eve of my 16th birthday. You see, I received no bite, endured no terrible attack, or struggled through death to find this life. No, there was nothing. I did not fear the forests or the creatures within. I had heard tales of werewolves and the boys of our village tried to spook the girls often, but they did not phase me. I suppose now it makes more sense, why I got along so well with the dogs of the village, why I was able to shoo wolves so easily from our cattle, and why they would even listen to me. The full moon fell just a few days after my passage into adulthood. Just before, my mother and I had been making wedding preparations, trying to find a suitable suitor. None of the boys ever got that close to me. They never did.”
She paused, straightening herself in her chair and gazing briefly at Caius. “I was tucked safely in bed, alone in a drafty room across the hall from the kitchen. I used to sleep in a warm, well insulated room near my mother’s, but since Cecilia had turned 16 10 months before she had decided we should be apart. I was alone. The darkness crept closer, and I could not sleep. I tossed, I turned, too warm for my blankets and warmer still after they had been shed. I watched through the small barred window as the moon rose, slowly, up against the pitch black background of the sky. It was the biggest moon I had ever seen. And at that moment I was filled with this indescribable awe, this appreciation of the glowing white orb as though it were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It gripped me tightly, and before I knew it I was pressed against the bars, the cold soothing my burning cheeks, staring out towards the huge cratered face that was rising higher with every second. But it wasn’t enough.” She was speaking with urgency now, lost in the memory, that one defining moment that lit her life. “I had to be closer. Suddenly the walls were trapping me, closing in on me. They threatened to swallow me whole, all while the beautiful moon crooned comforting thoughts from the other side. And then I did something unthinkable. My feet bare, my dressing gown glowing bright in the nighttime light, I left my room, slipped through the door, and entered the cool freedom of the night. It was as though something new had taken control of me. I had broken the rules and risked trouble and my safety, yet here I stood, feet pressed into the grass, my face upturned to the brilliance of the moon. I felt like I had control. The night belonged to me. The moon ruled me, gave me this power, this un before known power. It was everything. I was no longer a child, no longer in the shadow of my perfect older sister. I was free.”
“It was so invigorating that I hardly noticed the searing pain. I felt claws clench into the grassy dirt and tingles erupt down my spine, but I never doubled in half, never buckled from the pain. No,” she reflected slowly, raising her head to the sky, “I kept my eyes focused on that beautiful, freeing moon. She saved me that night, from the unimaginable pain I have since heard of. And then it was complete. I felt warm, and powerful, and overall, new.”
“Maybe it has something to do with my particular case. I’ve never met another like myself to compare stories with. But it was complete and total peace. The pain was secondary. You have to understand; I learned after that night that my whole childhood was a lie. Cecilia was not my sister, she was my half sister. My father was a werewolf, and I was born with the werewolf genes already waiting for that night when they would activate. My mother had lied to us, told us these things to keep us as normal as possible. As you may imagine, the sister I had not gotten along with well to begin with hated me as a half-sister that held such a huge secret. She disappeared shortly thereafter. As did I. I did not remain long in that village, not with this newfound power. My father had been strong, strong and powerful. His secrets had been passed down to me. Naturally, I attempted to seek him out.” Here Rachel paused, sorting the truth into categories with which to tell; how would she explain that strange meeting, that terrible evening where she knew her father so briefly? Quickly, she created a calm demeanor. She did not hide anything from this family. She could not. But she had to. “I met him only once, and he was more wolf than man, even when the moon did not shine he appeared dangerous and terrible, a true creature of the night. This was right before he died.” This bit of information, so useless in the context of her story, played a turning point in another’s life. She continued, skimming the next events. “He was killed by a young vampire. I believe she followed me to find him; he was hidden away expertly and very difficult to find. His death was because of me.” She didn’t fully believe this. While she may have led her sister to the werewolf’s whereabouts, he died not because of her but because of her loose mother. “I didn’t know him very well, though, and he was coarse and cruel, even to me. I felt little love, except that he taught me his many secrets. That is all the positive I can equate to him.”
“After that, I found myself wandering, searching, fighting to live. The kill was a thrill to me, easily perfected because it flowed through my veins for so long. I hunted actively through Rome, Austria, and parts of Germany. After several years of roaming, I came to be part of a small clan of wolves, warring against a Slovakian coven. Little did I know we were merely fighting a battle, that a war was raging all around us. They were annihilated, as well as the leeches, and I was once again without a home. So, I returned to my roots. I wound up back in France, searching for my mother’s home, looking even for my half-sister. The home had been destroyed, set fire and burned to ashes, and the area around was in no better shape. I know not to this day what had happened. I managed to find out, through much questioning and some force, that she had fled France when the new regime took a turn for the worse. Because I looked still sixteen when her daughter would be well older than that, I lied and told them I was her granddaughter, searching for the woman who I had been told so much about. Spain, they told me, Spain is where you will find her. They wrung my hands, gave me food, and sent me off with well wishes.”
The near past fell into focus. “I found her, some years ago. She had holed up in Spain with a bread-maker, a gambler and from what I’d seen a very violent man. I did not like him. She had lost some of her wits, but managed. She knew me, she knew what I was. At first she sobbed, tragically telling me how she had hoped I would not be so afflicted, but I comforted her and she grew used to the idea. While there I had to remain undetected, or at least largely so. This was well before the wars started up and such comings and goings seemed normal. I hunted far and wide, and sometimes I was gone for several days. I would return to find my mother nursing one bruise or another, and I would overhear the baker screaming at her, usually about me. He was not pleased. He did not realize that I could hear him, even when he screamed in whispers.”
“I wanted to kill him. I wanted so badly to rip him to shreds, to torture him slowly for what he was doing to my mother. I wanted the satisfaction of ripping each piece of flesh from his face, hearing him scream and beg for mercy and not give it to him. It was the most violent thing I’d ever felt. I also knew that she would not forgive me for doing so. So I waited. Her health was deteriorating, and within the year she was dead. I saw to her burial, using money stolen from victims, and was glad that my mother had no material possessions to leave to this terrible man.” Rachel paused, taking a breath. Her story was longer than she had realized, twisted and turned. And she had not told everything. “I killed him that night. I hadn’t planned to; not immediately anyways, but I had gone home to gather my few belongings and flee, and he found me there. He must have been waiting. He pulled me close to him and began to tell me how I was so much prettier than my mother, such a beauty, such perfection. It was easy to see where this was headed. And then I was angrier than ever, all that violence hitting me at once. This was the only time that I felt pain in the transformation, it was forced and I reveled in the ripping pain that tore at my limbs. I reveled because I knew his pain would be much worse, and would be the last pains he felt. He didn’t see it coming.” She stopped here, wishing now that she had taken Lucian’s offer and had a drink before her. “I scattered his body to avoid questions, burning most and burying the rest. I was frightened myself. I vacated the premises and found a new villa. I’ve been in various areas of Spain since that night.”
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Mar 9, 2009 13:41:04 GMT -8
Blood beat warm, quick, terrified, and Theoris reveled in the undue pain and terror that she had not created. The woman had been terrified already, chilled by some whisper of the night or carnivorous lusting gone too far. But she lived, so whatever terror of the afterlife that had frightened her so had not gone far enough. Theoris scowled, the light crowning her hair. She was aflame with light and wrapped in shimming ivory. Smirking now, she listened for the moment of shock, the moment the heart skips a beat and skips to overdrive to overcome. The woman did not move, did not flinch, dod not flee. It would not matter had she done anything; there would be laughter at her flinching and certain death if she fleed. The moments ticked heavily by, one frozen with fear and the other overcome with terrofied silence. Her smirk met the expressionless mask and Theoris chuckled.
Finally, her answer. "Death does not suit you well," Theoris commented, observing her carefully. "You fear it. It hangs about you like a plague and you shiver in fear and submission. You try unnsuccessfully to force death out, to save those it hovers above, slowly whisking them away. You try, all the while hoping this sacrifice will buy you just a little longer, a little more humanity. What a saint you are!" Theoris commended, her voice rising several octaves. "What name do you hold, healer? Are you nobody, just a nameless visionary who flitters from one house to the next, exercising your saving graces and offering prayer and comfort when you fail? I tell you this, healer, so you know. You cannot save this town from what it now faces. Your prayer will fall flat and more and more will die." She paused, grimacing, drawing herself around so as to face the frozen figure. "How did this deceased become one of the dying? What is your diagnosis?"
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Post by brentjoyce on Mar 10, 2009 8:36:12 GMT -8
"I don't quite know what to see yet. I can see that you have a very controlling nature but, this can work to our advantage as you seem to have a great control of information; perhaps information i would need in the days to come."
Moving ever so closely to Kanika he extended his hand. He looked her in the eyes, searching for thought. The one thing Shawn was still unsure of was her methods and how much she would help him and Lubanius. From their conversation Shawn has learned nothing of Kanika other then a name. He felt as if this could be a trap to him, she could be using him more then Shawn was using her.
"I will accept your partnership but, let it be known that my friends are not yours by any meanings. In time you may know my other halves but for now you will only consort with me about the nature of our agreements." Shawn held his stand steady as a way to signify the pact that was to be made he wanted a gentlemans hand shake even if he knew it would mean next to nothing. It was purely a symbolic gesture to Kankia that she could trust his word for now. The wind swooned out side and swept into the abandoned building whipping up Shawn's clothes into a fury of flickers and the moon lite was bright out side the window illuminating his entire figure.
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Post by Her Royal Highness on Mar 13, 2009 3:01:35 GMT -8
“I am no saint,” She spat out, viciously, despite her fear. “Saints have faith. Or are at least certain of their belief.”
She paused, shakily drawing in a weak breath before resuming.
“I know not what plagues the city. But tonight it has taken one who was near to me. You say I cannot stop it, but I will not stand by doing nothing. And as for my fear, what of it? What creature does not shrink at least inwardly when faced with death?”
It struck her finally what the female was hinting at. Curiosity quickly began to replace fear, although not completely.
“I have none. I am no expert in the empty myths the old ones speak of. Yet you clearly know something the rest of the city does not. Do you intend to share this, or are we to continue speaking in riddles?”
The mockery had begun to hit its mark. Elena could not shake the feeling that she was being toyed with, not unlike the mouse that is batted around by the paws of the cat that isn’t even hungry.
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Post by lions_go_rawr on Apr 13, 2009 20:43:21 GMT -8
Her story was so elegant, so beautiful, even when a life such as hers was already filled with such anger and violence. Just as she had commented on his own life story, Caius was eager to comment upon her own.
“Your story is like that of nothing I have ever heard in all of my long years living on this ground. For years the only stories of the first transformation included pain and agony, the desire to end life to end the pain being caused in extreme measures. But yours was different in every sense of the word. Though we are of the same lineage as the wolves of old, our stories are different. Your story, your transformation is truly as beautiful, just as you are also truly beaut-“ Caius stopped himself in mid-sentence. This was not the proper conversation for comments such as those. The fire in the mantle crackled. His glass in his hand clinked against the table upon which the two sat.
“Pardon me, I am afraid I began to speak out of line,” he said, calmly bowing his head in a gesture of apology. “What I meant to say was that a story as beautiful as that fits the majestic nature of the creatures that we hide within us. Our lives have created the beings that we stand as today in front of each other. No doubt both of our stories have made us wiser and stronger than we could have been if such a tragically magical gift had fallen upon us.”
As he finished speaking, Caius looked her way. The dark outside had consumed all and the light from the fireplace cast an eerie shadow on all the surroundings. In the dark light, he saw her form, sitting a superb vision of a beauty he had never seen before. His pulse quickened. His breath became short. This unknown being, called to their sides, was truly getting to him. “If you would excuse me, I feel I need to breathe some fresh air.”
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Apr 14, 2009 19:59:54 GMT -8
Cold eyes gazed, empty, towards the huddling figure. Theoris did not appreciate her renewed sense of boldness, and a cruel snarl graced her pale lips. "Empty myths? EMPTY MYTHS? Healer, you not of what you speak. Death is a myth--look around you! All you see is made up of myth." Theoris huffed violently, swinging closer and staring at the unnamed woman.
Carelessly, she wrapped a finger about her shoulder, a very human gesture, and glanced towards the row of houses just beyond the pair. Death hung heavily in the air, mingled seamlessly with blood and despair. A mauling had undoubtedly taken place. She could see it now; and she entertained the thought, letting the raw flesh scrape across the floor, caught between snarling jaws, leaving a mixture of saliva and blood before disappearing into the lifeless void. She smirked now, looking to Elena's face and noticing the hatred and fear of death that brewed just beneath her rough features.
"Alright, miracle worker, tell me this. While you are unable to diagnose, perhaps you may describe to me the nature of your victim's afflictions. However, I cannot see why you seem so very convinced that I hold answers you somehow lack. My dear, you seem quite aware of the world you live in."
And indeed Theoris was impressed. "Most in this time cling to their rosaries and flock to the churches, praying falsely for salvation before turning and committing sins unspeakable before humanity. At least your wisdom beckons you to choose disbelief. You have, in essence, freed your soul." Theoris was gazing at her with interest now. The mortal was strong, for a mortal. But still she shook, terrified by death and of the darkness that accompanied it. "When the Day of Judgement comes, if such a day does indeed exist, you will watch from the sidelines as the masses line up to hand themselves over to be scrutinized. They will suffer, for every menial sin and misguided mistake. You, however, refuse to offer yourself to the angry eyes of whatever 'God' has exercised His power over this world. So why should you fear death?"
Now both shared a curiosity towards the other. "You obviously do." Theories paused. "Now you will ask me why I did not address your inquiry. Well, I will not tell you anything you cannot learn on your own," Theoris mused, stringing out her curiosity and refusing to cater to her desires. "I like potential," Theoris informed her, "and I would like to hear your theories."
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Post by Her Royal Highness on Apr 15, 2009 0:39:59 GMT -8
ooc: any second now... dun dun DUN!
“you have... freed your soul.”
The words all at once inspired and mocked. And the mockery was taking its effect, steadily granting her boldness. Only the touch of the female’s finger on her shoulder made her jerk away. No longer out of fear however. It was from the chill the contact sent through her garments down to her own skin. Now curiosity fused with boldness in a frightful combination.
“So you are determined to continue with puzzles. You applaud me for my lack of faith only to to then tell me I aught to believe in monsters? Very well, I will speak what I see you already know. A man all but cleaved in two from head to stomach. Face no longer recognizable as such, ribs torn through as though they were mere ribbons in the path of a pair of shears. Hardly bleeding, having lost most of his blood already in the street. Such a mauling as no living beast known to these parts could possibly inflict. Brother of my closest friend no longer able to hear the wails of his horrified family that fall on his ears. This is what I have seen. This is what my experience fails to explain fully. This is what you have persisted in making me tell you. I have answered your question. Now will you or will you not answer mine?”
Elena had grown tired of her games. Confidence came hand in hand with emotion as she revisited the last hours of Raoul’s life so that her voice increased in power as she spoke. It should not have occurred. Regardless of whether there was or wasn’t an omnipotent higher power that looked down on the world and its happenings, she could not accept this.
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Post by brentjoyce on Apr 23, 2009 10:42:39 GMT -8
OOC: Stacy or Stacey how ever you fit it spelled I believe Shawn needs a reply
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Post by theliontamer♥ on Apr 24, 2009 0:10:08 GMT -8
"Oh, but you and I speak of different monsters. Yours, my dear, tiptoe door-to-door with holy book in hand, proclaiming all a sinner and then prescribing the only remedy. The monsters of which I speak do not exist in the same realm. No, no. All are damned by the holy," and the way she snarled the word 'holy' showed how she thought them holy indeed, "and have been rejected by any notion of faith. Most do not care for anything of sense in the first place. Were they not terrors of the dark they should be impeccable candidates for religious faith." Theoris scowled, drawing away from the woman, unhappy with her sudden reactions. "The other, smaller in number though vastly more powerful, walk among the mortals, concealed except when bloodlust reigns supreme. Having faith, my dear, can be scoffed at, for it is based in myth and memory. I appluad your lack of faith because faith is weakness. You aught to be educated when it comes to monsters because it is wise to seek knowledge. Faith plays no part in the existence of these so-called monsters. You aught to believe a fact, healer." Now she grew silent, for she was interested in Elena's description of the slaughtered. Her curiousity rose; she did not know if the horrors so prominent in Elena's eyes told the tale of a gruesome mauling or a drained corpse turning quickly to dust. This knowledge would be essential. "Your experience must be broadened, healer, and it is tragic that you must learn in this manner. However," Theoris was bristling with anger now that she could identify the cause of this death, "I see you will learn little with no one to teach you." A smirk lit her eyes. "Once I have asked my question, do not reply to me that you do not believe--I have already warned you that what you now deal with is fact," Theoris advised. "You will not survive long if you fail to recognize this." She did not mention that it would be the stunning little creature that sat before her, explaining werewolves and vampires and succubi and ghouls, so calmly contemplating whether or not the mortal would die that night, who held the power to end her humanity. The healer was smart, and Theoris knew this; so when she left this threat hanging in the air, unsaid, she knew the woman must think her beyond mortal already. "However, now that you've told me what I require to know, I should not have reason to answer your petty wonderings," the vampire answered thoughtfully, revealing a glinting smile as the moon passed overhead before diving behind a thin layer of cloud. "I should have no use of you now, you know. A mortal should not know more than one is allotted. Even though you are a healer you have obviously not been allotted much." The icy exterior had returned, though Elena was not in much danger while Theoris' veins pumped greedily with fresh blood. "I am bound to you by no loyalties," she hissed, growing more annoyed as she thought of the werewolves loose in the city at this very moment. "Nothing urges me to care of your affairs," she continued, indifferently, toying again. "But this death has made you angry, thirsting for revenge, whether you will admit to it or else," Theoris conceeded, examining Elena again. "I do not object to allowing you this knowledge, so that your frustrations may be directed correctly," she mused, mostly to herself. The moon was growing low again and Theoris tired. "And I have already allowed your dismissal of faith as admirable. Very well, healer. I shall tell you this: Your friend, or whoever he should be, was killed by a vile creature of the night, a thoughtless monster masquerading as the finest of humanity, though the lives of these creatures are dictated by the iridescent orb that hangs in the sky. Imagine, these filthy beasts believing they hold such power! In truth they are slaves to a distant body with no intelligence! As if this loyalty to stupidity was not enough, they are likened to the mangy, starving bitches in the junkyards. Tell me, healer, what do you know of werewolves?"
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Post by Her Royal Highness on Apr 24, 2009 1:44:33 GMT -8
Werewolves.
The creature before her had said werewolves. What on earth was she to say, to even think at that? Yet suddenly, it wasn't half so difficult to believe. A year ago, perhaps. A month, a week, a day, an hour even. But not now. Now standing under a full blank moon that for once struck her as more ghastly than beautiful, faced with a woman that for an infinite amount of inexplicable reasons every inch of Elena's body screamed out it's distrust for, engaged in the most unearthly dialogue of her life; no, now it was the most believable explanation she could ever have been offered. And so she accepted the unbelievable with nothing more than a slight nod.
But by now her curiosity had taken a turn. Her attention was completely focused on the figure before her. The threat had been renewed -- wordlessly, yet more powerful than ever.
"I know only the stories of which I'm sure you know the true level of fiction. You asked me my name. I am Elena."
She paused. The woman was right. She owed Elena nothing. there was nothing to tie her down. Yet Elena had one more question. And she had already been granted one answer. Might she not venture one more? How was she to know that she would look back on this night wishing with all she was that she had never been so bold.
"And what are you?"
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