Title: (open)Delicate Creatures...
Description: ...should be handled with care
Unknown - March 19, 2008 02:35 AM (GMT)
She sat on a rock, this delicate creature in a black dress. Her fingers ran along the strings of an instrument, a golden harp. Her blue eyes stared past the strings and into something else, unreal and beyond human sight. Her black hair curled around her shoulders, the vacant look in her eyes matching the innocent aura that seemed to surround the child in black. Dark, feathered wings, sat just as fragile on her back, ruffling in the lightest of breezes. She was a creature who could break from the slightest touch and it almost seemed to make people wary around her, afraid that they would be the ones to hurt this delicate creature. She could hardly be called human for the way she acted bespoke something different entirely. The arms and fingers that pulled on the strings were thin, and she looked under nourished, as though she hadn’t eaten in a long time.
Nothing seemed to stir around her as she played. The music that came from the harp was like a whisper that blended with the silence instead of piercing it. Other than her arms nothing on her moved either. She seemed almost fey, as though she would flee when someone came near her. She was delicately dressed and painted up as though she were a porcelain doll and required a great amount of care. She closed her blue eyes and kept playing the harp. The song she played was filled with sadness and mirth, mixing with the black atmosphere that surrounded the young lady.
Manic Deathstorm - March 22, 2008 01:33 AM (GMT)
A sad ballad drifted elegantly throughout the silence of the air, bringing its haunting melody to his ears. It was a tone not often heard by his ears, at least not since the earlier years of his life when he had first met his late wife. The memory was not all too pleasant of a thing to think of, so he simply dismissed it with an annoyed grunt. Now was not the time to fall the pieces, especially when he had to keep himself on his toes. After ensuing that contract with Cordelia, and issuing that invitation to that of Fehade, one couldn’t be but too careful. Allured through the sound of the melody, each of his feet would move in swaying succession, his body moving gently in sway with each step to the beat of the song.
Emerging through the darkness, the appearance of a lake and woman came swiftly within view. At first glance, the woman seemed something of a normal being that was of course until he grew closer to the woman. It seemed that the closer he got, the more out of place the woman seemed in the midst of what was considered the “norm”. Granted, he had seen his share of some skinny folk, but this woman almost made him want to throw her a steak or something. In a way it kind of made him feel a tinge of sadness, but it was only passing.
Faltering in his steps a good distance short of her, his head would tilt off kilter in an odd attempt to absorb her features in a different view. Though, it would seem that it would add nothing more to his original opinion of her appearance. In one swift motion, his form would hop up enough to enable his legs to shift in a crossing manner, before flopping down on his rump in a cross legged style. The jacket adorning his body splayed off to both sides of him, exposing his muscular torso, as he leaned forward. Placing his elbows on each of his knees, he would use them to support his head as he placed his chin upon his hands. Intently his gaze followed each movement of her fingers while she played until she would stop. In which point he would issue a dis-satisfied grunt, before placing both hands off to his sides and thrusting himself back up to his feet in a haphazard manner. A slight frown etched across his face, while a single hand raked itself through his hair to keep it from his face, but the only white section of his dark raven black hair would drift effortlessly back in front of his face.
“Oh come now, don’t tell me you’re taken so far off by my beauty that you’ve decided to stop playing such a lovely song, hmmm?” Of course his self-confidence in himself was truly something to behold, it was all in fun. After all, that’s all there was to do nowadays, have fun, enjoy life, and make everyone’s day miserable. Those were his three goals anyway and oh how he loved to accomplish them day after day. Whether or not this woman was so easily cracked by his comments would remain to be seen. On the Brightside, there was NO way she would be like Cordelia. No one could be that self-arrogant, at least he hoped not…If wrong, he would be in for yet another looooooong night of annoying banter and comments. At least until he would get her to shut up like he had Cordelia, but those were only what if’s, nothing was set in stone….Yet…
Unknown - March 22, 2008 02:05 AM (GMT)
She pulled each of the strings back, the sound echoing over the water. Everything about her seemed sad and distant. Her dress hugged her form, hiding the ribs that would have been seen otherwise. Even through her skinny body frame she was very elegant. Every pull of the strings was precise, as though she were completely wrapped within the moment. Her eyes still stared into nothingness, beyond what could be seen. She closed her eyes for a moment as she finished her song.
Then someone spoke up and she opened her eyes and settled them on the man. Her dark eyes drank him in for a moment before she spoke as well. Her voice was calm and unsettling, although it was hard to determine why that was so. She had a wild look in her eyes as though she wasn’t all human anymore.
“You think it was lovely?” She stared down at the harp and gazed at it for a second. Her voice had no emotion in it and sounded very far away. “I’m sorry but I didn’t even notice you there until I was already done playing. Was that wrong of me?” The girl let go of her harp and stood up, her dress falling about her in a simple movement. She flowed over to the man and stopped in front of him, cocking her head to one side then the other.
After a moment she stepped on a rock bringing her eye to eye with the man. She studied him again for a moment then moved closer and leaned in so their noses almost touched. Even her breath was cold. “Are you beautiful? I can’t tell.”
Manic Deathstorm - March 22, 2008 02:54 AM (GMT)
When she spoke, a sudden wave of relief washed over him, at least she wasn’t like Cordelia. The sheer thought of the woman’s voice and response simply made him cringe. Shifting his thoughts again, they skittered back to her the moment she moved towards him and brought her nose mere inches from his. Lifting a brow in question, his eyes simply bore themselves within hers, intent on not moving away from his current position. After a time, his head would cock itself off to the side and to the other side, before returning to a level base. This woman was an odd duck, but those were the best kinds. Unpredictability was a good thing, something that not many really held.
When the question of whether he was beautiful or not filtered back within the workings of his mind, a soft laughter took up from within him. “Perhaps you should get those eyes of yours checked, sweetheart. Unless of course I blinded ya.” With that said, a light click would issue from the corner of his mouth and he would issue her a wink, “But in all seriousness, what’s the point in being here…And playing a harp no less, it really doesn’t make much sense. I mean, it’s a lake and on my way over here, I got growled at by some hermit looking dude. Seemed like he had rabies or something.” A brow would lift again at the thought of a hermit with rabies, but he would simply issue a shrug, before turning his attention back to their closeness.
Deciding to take her started gestures a little further, his head would lean forward until both of their noses would touch and then lastly their foreheads. At this point both of his eyes began to blur the image of her own from the closeness betwixt the two of them. It really hadn’t bothered him any, since she initiated this little game and like hell if he’d back down now. “So, you play this sort of game with people often…?”
Unknown - March 22, 2008 03:10 AM (GMT)
She watched him through her eyes, moving his head back and forth she merely moved her eyes. When he spoke she blinked at him, the sound almost seemed to shock her and a shiver ran itself over her body, she didn’t move away though, instead she focused on his eyes and gazed into them. “You’re eyes are very odd... perhaps you should check them too.” She stared into his eyes once more. “A very silvery color... and no I’m not blinded... do you have that effect on people? To blind them?”
The mention of her harp made her smile a bit, although it looked very unnatural on her features. She looked most normal when she had no expression at all. Something about this man was different for he wasn’t cringing away from her, actually she had met very few people and usually they avoided her or stuttered when they spoke with her, as though they were unnerved. It never bothered her... just made her wonder. “I play my harp a lot. The music sooths me. Why is here such a bad place to play? A what is a ... her..met?”
Then he touched her nose against hers as well. She blinked as his form ran into each other. “Game?” She blinked again and her eyes settled into somewhat that resembled a look of someone deep in thought. “I think a game is something that should be fun... I don’t believe this would qualify as a game... I don’t think there are any games here...” She looked back at him and her lips pursed together for a moment before they fell back to their normal inexpressive placement.
“How did you die..?”
Manic Deathstorm - March 22, 2008 03:51 AM (GMT)
The more she spoke, the more she sounded like a child who seemed no more than out of place in a world so cruel. She was naïve, that much was a given, but to be that out of the loop almost took him back a bit. Though, it still was a relief to get away from the rush of the cities and the bothersome people of them for a change; even if this woman seemed to be almost clueless to everything and anything around her.
When she asked her question, his features would twist into that of temporary perplexity. “Perhaps, it all depends upon how you perceive my abilities. I can be a God or I can be a commoner.” She truly was odd, but it also made him chuckle faintly. At least the night wasn’t going to be boring and who knew; maybe he could teach this woman a thing or two about life. Again she answered his own question with yet another question, causing a brow to lift as his eyes broke off and to the side for a brief instance, “Well, for starters…It’s dark, you’re alone, and then there’s the rabified hermit from earlier. And a hermit is a person who seemingly has no home and lives off the land for sustenance. Make sense?” Slowly his eyes trailed back to hers, where they would remain for the time being.
Games…apparently the woman felt she wasn’t which kind of struck him as odd. Most people tried to toy with him and bait him into playing things in their way. Regardlessly, he would shrug it off without much more thought, “So you’re saying that you aren’t having fun with me? That’s not very nice now is it?” A wry grin etched across his lips, but as soon as it had, it would quickly depart without a second’s notice. The next statement that left her mouth caught him off guard and caused his head to part from hers slightly. What did she mean die…? It perplexed him and his face twisted into that of uncertainty as he studied this woman in a different light. Did she see something he couldn’t or didn’t…Perhaps she had? For moments his mind hammered away at all the possibilities that could bring itself to his mind, before allowing a few words to brush past his slender lips, “What do you mean die…? As far as I can see, I’m alive and kicking deary…” Just to make sure she understood his statement, he would lift his arms off to his sides as if to present himself to her.
“As I said before, perhaps you should get those pretty little eyes of yours checked. What is breathing cannot be dead…” Within his head, the thoughts were still hammering away as to what would possess the woman to say such a thing, especially without much of a pause or delay. But on the exterior, an arrogant and smug smirk crossed his countenance, belying the fact of his bewilderment by her statement. Because in a way she was right…In a way he was dead and in that way, he was segregated from the rest of this mortal race….
Unknown - March 22, 2008 04:08 AM (GMT)
She giggled a little when he spoke of the hermit. “Yes it makes sense.” She still hadn’t moved away from him, and her laugh seemed almost childlike. It suit her in a way, the empty hollow child’s laugh on this fragile thing. She stopped and stared at him again. “I don’t understand why someone would do that though. I suppose it’s their own punishment for what they did.” She nodded her head quick as though she had just explained something to herself and made it a fact with that nod.
She blinked at him. “Are you having fun?” It seemed very odd that he considered this thing “fun”. She didn’t seem to see the point to something being fun. “I suppose it isn’t nice. Should I just say I’m having fun? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She seemed very genuine in a way, although the emptiness behind every word she spoke seemed to take away from what they would mean if someone with emotion spoke them. Then he pulled away from her and she stared at him curiously.
“Alive? Oh no, I assure you, you’re very dead. I guess you forgot how you died. It’s sad isn’t it? I forgot how I died too.” She gave him a sad smile. She reached out a hand to his face and placed it against his cheek staring into his eyes. She stood that way for a long moment and just regarded him sadly. “You poor dear.” A look of pity entered her eyes as she gazed at him. She pushed her hand harder into his cheek. “You are warm. And you are breathing.” She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down before she dropped her hand. “It doesn’t mean you’re alive. You can die and come here and still believe you’re alive.” She gazed around her. “It is dark isn’t it?”
Manic Deathstorm - March 22, 2008 04:51 AM (GMT)
Such a curious woman she was, nothing she said made sense, but then again he supposed that he wasn’t much better. Countless times he had been told that, and even the chaos that was his mind didn’t really make any sense either. Settling his arms back at his side, a soft laughter flittered through his lips, “Oh, I’m having fun, I always have fun. But if you aren’t, there’s no need to lie to yourself or to me for that matter.” His voice was light hearted and carefree, carrying an eloquent tone to it all the while he spoke.
All expression wiped itself from his countenance at the break of her next couple of statements. On top of that, she placed a hand to his cheek as if verifying that he was in fact warm. While that didn’t bother him, the comments she had made were enough to bug him. Lifting a free hand, each of the digits would curl in towards the palm, all with the exception of the index finger. Taking his index finger, he would place it to her forward and proceed to push her head back slightly, “Ut tut, Mrs. ILikeToTouchPeople, who said ANYTHING about me dying? The last time my time card was punched in, it was when I was born and as far as I’m aware, it’s never been punched out. So don’t give me any of that cockamamie explanation about me dying.” The expression on his face was blank and stone like in nature.
Who the hell was this woman anyway, not only was she off her rocker, but she blew the damned thing up as well. Nothing she said made sense to him, especially when she started talking about death and dying. “Besides, if this is the place you would go when you die, then they really need to start redecorating. A few women other than you would be nice as well, but as I said before I am not dead. If I was dead, I would be aware of it, I’m sure of it. Now you on the other, you may just as well be dead. Why you would believe that or why that is, I have no clue and I really don’t care, frankly….But I am curious to know why you believe that I am dead, hmmm?” While he was sure that he would get no valid answer to question, considering the last couple of questions he asked her. They all ended up in short responses that didn’t really answer him, and always ended up in another question directed back to him.
Unknown - March 22, 2008 05:13 AM (GMT)
She found her head being pushed back with one of his fingers and she cocked her head to the side before she jumped down of the rock. She stood and stared out at the water for a moment instead and then to her harp. She considered moving away from the man to go play it again... but he had asked her a question and it would be rude if she were to leave now. No she would stay and talk to him. He actually talked to her. But it made her a bit restless since she wasn’t used to talking to one person for a long time, not much past the part where she told people they had died. They didn’t seem to like that very much. He was actually arguing with her, which meant he didn’t like it either but at least he was staying.
“Punched in? I don’t get it.” She blinked at him as the words might have well fell on deaf ears. The way she understood things seemed to give away her age. Although she was fourteen she could have easily been younger just by the way she spoke and acted. No matter though, it never really changed anything about the way she responded.
“Hell isn’t supposed to look pretty.” She reached down and picked up some dirt and sifted it through her hands. “It wouldn’t be much of a torture if it was fun to look at. Besides you wouldn’t really believe you were dead. Only a few people figure it out...” She gazed into his eyes again. “I believe you’re dead ‘cause you are. I mean if we’re in hell,” She spread her arms out wide. “And you’re here with me, and I’m dead, so you... are dead too.” She shrugged and dropped her arms back to her side.
Manic Deathstorm - March 26, 2008 04:15 AM (GMT)
She really WAS naïve, so much so that it nearly stunned him. How could someone be so clueless yet act like they knew what they were talking about…? The more he thought on it, the more memories of what others said about him began to surface. A soft laughter passed his slightly parted lips, “By the time I even teach you one thing I’ll already be gray in the head. Given that’s not really a possibility, I would still be able to accomplish that, before you learned about life my dear child.” His voice was subtle in its tone, while each word flowed eloquently from his lips.
There was a part of him that had bet she would not even catch onto his meanings of her learning and the likes. It would really make little difference, seeing as she simply continued on with her belief that the two of them were dead. Alright, now this was beginning to get a little sickening….In a dark tone his voice picked up just enough so she could hear him, “If you want hell…I can send you there.” Without skipping a beat, his right hand would slip into the confines of his jacket, only to pull out a small card with a sword printed on one of its sides.
Issuing a quick flick of the wrist, the card would dematerialize and spread out from his hand to take on a shimmering and glowing resemblance of a sword. In a mere moment, the shimmering light would contract and constrict into that of a long metallic blade with an intricate hilt that would lie just within his grasp. Bringing the blade out in a slow methodical movement, the tip would pause just at the woman’s nose, “You believe your dead, then let’s test the theory. You should have nothing to worry about; the dead cannot feel when their bodies have passed and moved on into the after life.” He allowed those words to stew in her head for the time being, before speaking again, “Soooo, what’s going to be toots, you going to still blather on about this being hell and the both of us being dead, or are you going to put it to rest for another day?”
Unknown - March 26, 2008 04:38 AM (GMT)
“If you want hell…I can send you there.”
Her eyes barely flickered as the blade pressed against her skin. She coolly stared into his eyes, trying to study what lay beneath their sliver exterior. It proved fruitless, but then again she had never been able to read people, had never truly connected with people. He seemed like one of the few to stay and talk to her, threaten her even. She moved her eyes around her and wondered how this man could possibly believe they were still alive. Did he not see the decay? The betrayal? The ruin? Hell screamed at her from all angles and it made her want to sink to her knees and scream. Instead she shook her head slowly.
“Hell is about elevation of pain, not be ridding of it altogether.”
The thought that he would go through with his plan was a very real possibility. He was obviously upset at being called dead. It was a given. Most people did not want to admit to the fact their lives were over and that they were living in this mock reality meant to feel every emotion as torture. She stared into his eyes and backed away from his sword. She took one finger and ran it along the blade’s edge, slicing through skin. Red liquid bubbled up from the thin tear and pooled on top on her fingertip. She cocked her head and watched the blood bubble up.
“I feel pain. I feel the blood rising from my body and pooling on my skin. I feel every touch, every pain, every feeling, and I am not alive. So don’t try and tell me I am.”
She looked up at him and tears pooled in her eyes. The salty liquid ran down her cheeks and she let the droplets fall to the ground. Then her emotions faded and she returned to normal. Blinking as though nothing had happened and she had just come back from somewhere far, far away. She looked down at her finger and blinked once, twice, then moved her gaze to Manic.
“Why am I bleeding?” She blinked once more and cocked her head to the side. “You say I’m not dead...but... why?”
Manic Deathstorm - March 26, 2008 08:30 PM (GMT)
Again she didn’t seem to listen to a single word that he said which left him wondering if he should go on with what he was even trying to explain to her. It was a waste of his time, truly…But then again, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do for the time being. And then she spoke further on the matter at hand, which brought his attention to a whole new level. Settling his eyes back down upon the tip of the blade, they would watch curiously while the woman ran her finger across the blade, applying enough pressure to pierce the tender flesh of her digit. A wry grin etched itself way across his face when the first signs of blood escaped the open wound, signaling a sense of uncertainty to her beliefs.
“Pain is elevated in hell, but that pain pertains to physical and mental…Granted.” The sword would flick off to the side, holding itself off in an upward slant on his flank, “That’s everything you just said, but the physical pain is what you feel only. You don’t bleed for in death you are both alive and dead. You’re dead in the sense that you can no longer fall to simple human mortality. But you’re alive in the sense you can feel and experience everything just as you had while in the living realm.” Now dropping the blade back to his side, each of his digits would uncurl to relinquish the blade to fall to the earth bellow, where it would plunge a mere couple of inches into the soft earthen ground.
Pushing forward from his current stance, his eyes would drift to hers only to settle themselves while he approached. Once within a couple inches of the girl, a hand would move out to take up hers, bringing the bloodied finger up in front of him. “You’re not dead, because you bleed just as I or anyone else would. On top of that, if you were in fact dead, you would be experiencing torture and endless waves of malevolence acted upon you by your own personal torturer. Now, seeing as there is no one here, but us, I would assume that to be false. Unless of course, I was your torturer…But since I’m not, you’re safe. I’d be the last person you would want to have torture you.” With that said, he would release her hand with a wink, before turning on the balls of his heels to move back to his blade. Upon nearing it, his left hand would move out to lightly drag his fingertips around the hilt of the blade, as he moved around in a circle around it, so he once again faced her.
Curling each of his digits around the hilt, he would pluck it from the earth and swing it up in a diagonal fashion in front the upper portion of his chest. In unbroken succession his right would lift to a parallel position to the ground, before taking the blade and placing it just upon the side of his forearm. In a long and slow drawn out motion, the blade would begin to drag downwards, running its edge across his flesh only to split it open and release the red crimson fluid beneath, which would drip slowly forth and to the ground to taint it. Once the blade reached far enough into his flesh to draw blood, it would lift and drop back to his side, while his other arm would remain, the flow of blood continuing. “If I were truly dead, I wouldn’t be able to bleed either. Now if that doesn’t make sense to you or if it doesn’t explain why you aren’t dead, then you seriously need to get that head of yours checked."
Unknown - March 26, 2008 09:28 PM (GMT)
He dropped her hand, the warmth of his touch receding from her skin in seconds at a time. “How do you know I’m not my torturer? ” She tilted her head to the side once again but something in her eyes said she had dropped the subject of being dead. She still believed it. It was something that had gone so deep into her mind that it pounded at her every time she drew breath. It was underlying every thought she possessed and she had surrendered herself completely to the idea. She didn’t see a point to making this man believe the truth. “I’m “safe”?” She looked up at him quizzically, and in her eyes it was obvious that she had no meaning to put with the word.
He then did something she had never expected, but she watched with interested as he drew his own blood from his arm. She reached out a hand, no hesitance behind the motion that was so simple and yet so personal, and she ran her fingers through his blood. The girl brought it up in front of her face and stared at it. After a moment or two she zoned back in and blinked a few times, as though she were just seeing the world around her. She wasn’t sure how long the silence had stretched between them, or if the man even cared. He had put up with her this long and a few more of her quirks might see him on his way, or just more interested. Either way it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like she had any real social skills and her quirks were better shown up front than later on.
“So if I bleed, and if you bleed, were both alive?” She considered it for a moment but didn’t buy the explanation for a second. He didn’t need to know that. “I suppose it makes sense...” She reached out and touched his warm crimson once more, breathing in the coopery scent of him. She closed her eyes and turned to gaze out over the dark waters for a second. She turned back to the man and looked into his silvery eyes.
“Who are you?” She moved closer to him as she had done the first moment they had met. She didn’t find the closeness awkward or even something that would be discouraged in the social norm. She gazed at his face and drank in his features with distant eyes. “If you are not dead, not my torturer, but you are...” She struggled to remember the word for a moment, “[color= 594267]beautiful, then what does that make you?” She blinked at him. A sound perked her ears and she turned around to face out at the water’s. They were still as glass and she attempted what most would call “a joke”. “Perhaps that was my torturer.” Without emotion it made it hard to tell what she was trying to accomplish. However she dismissed the sound as nothing.
Manic Deathstorm - March 27, 2008 12:38 AM (GMT)
Deciding to humor her idea of death, his eyes would study her every emotion, every sentence, and every action carefully. From the get-go he knew she wasn’t a normal being, but the more she talked and the more she acted brought a different light on everything. Especially when she began to touch his bloodied wound and study the blood as if it were something foreign to her. The words that would follow would bring about a quirked brow in response, more so when she mentioned the lake being her torturer. After a time, his head would tilt itself off to the side curiously. The lake was her torturer…There was no way she could be serious. The thought made him chuckle faintly, but his face would once again turn stoic in its nature.
“That makes me Manic Deathstorm, the King of King’s and…Some other random mumbo jumbo. I’ve been called so many names, it’s not even funny.” Issuing a faint shrug, his eyes would then drift from her and then over the waters, “It’s quite possible you are your own torturer. And maybe the reason you think you’re dead lies in your spirit.” When the last word escaped his lips, his eyes would shift back to hers, “There are people who don’t really have a spirit to them. So in a sense they think they’re dead, feel dead, and hold no emotions. Perhaps, you are one of those people, absent of life within their body.” Again his shoulders shrugged and his focus would again shift from her and down to the blade in his hand. In a sheer instance of a thought the sword would begin to dematerialize into thousands of brilliant glimmers of light, only to gather and compact themselves into the form a card, which he would carefully tuck back into his jacket.
Once settled, his metallic hues would return to hers, “So, I suppose the question now falls upon you. Who and what are you exactly…? And yes yes…..I already know you believe your dead, so if we can skip that whole thing again, it would be grand…” He really didn’t care to listen to this whole; I’m dead and your dead sort of thing over again. But if it came down to it again, then he figured there would be no choice BUT to listen.
Unknown - March 27, 2008 12:57 AM (GMT)
“King Manic Deathstorm,” She rolled the name around her mouth to get a feel for it. For some reason when he spoke she didn’t want to talk to him about death, or anything else for that matter. She wanted him to be quiet, because she knew that he didn’t believe her. In an odd way that flicker of a thought was the closest she would ever come to being angry, just wishing a voice would fade away. “Yes I suppose I am missing a spirit.” Aren’t all the dead without a spirit? She just thought it, knowing somewhere, maybe it was instinct, but she just knew that he wouldn’t like her saying it out loud. If she did have a spirit she couldn’t feel or sense it. Could he sense his?
His sword caught her eye and distracted her mind from the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She welcomed the new experience. She watched the sword change back into a card, and she tilted her head as Manic tucked it away in his jacket. “How did you do that?” She wanted to reach out and touch the card to see it for herself, but it had already returned to its resting place and she wouldn’t go fishing through his jacket just for a card.
“Alright...” She pondered his question for a moment. Who? What? Did she even know that herself. She tried to remember and suddenly a sharp pain entered her mind. Her head ached and she body felt like pins were being pushed into her skin. Sharp throbbing pain occupied her head and she clasped both her hands over her ears and sunk to her knees sobbing in pain for a moment or two. “I DON’T KNOW!! I don’t know!! Please, please. I won’t try to remember. Please ... stop.” Her voice had trailed off into a whisper and she whimpered on the ground for a moment as the pain subsided. She got to her knee, hands planted flat on the ground. Her wings wrapped around her as best they could, acting as her only protection. Her head drooped, hair hung around her face. “I don’t have a name...” It was all she could manage to tell Manic about herself.
Manic Deathstorm - March 27, 2008 02:45 AM (GMT)
“King Manic Deathstorm”
It was odd hearing someone actually calling him that, other than the stupid mistake for soldiers that served beneath his rule. That was when the name Shagarez came into his head. A deep set look of distaste crossed his visage, but only for a brief instance as his mind was quickly distracted by her following comment. It was of the card, “Eh, it’s just a magical card; it summons forth a blade and also calls it back at my command. Quite useful when you don’t want anyone to know what you’re truly carrying and how damaging you can be. For me, I don’t want my enemy to know anything about me until I actually hit them with it.” A wry grin crossed his lips at the sheer thought of a person’s expression when he would pull such a tactic against them. The most precious encounter involved that of Cordelia. Such a great thing that was, to take someone so high and mighty and reduce them to nothing more than a simple and loyal subordinate.
Almost instantly his thoughts were pulled from that of Cordelia and back to the woman before him. When she began screaming out and had finally dropped to her knees, his eyes would narrow as he simply played spectator throughout the entire ordeal. What could he do anyway; it was a torment she brought on herself…It wasn’t like anything he could control with words or actions and it was highly unlikely that he would do so to begin with. What happened to others weren’t in his interest, especially when he wasn’t the cause of it. If she knew that prior like it seemed as though she had, then she should have known to simply ignore his question.
By no force had he made her attempt to answer it, so it was her own damnation. And then in a soft almost hushed whisper she would mention that she didn’t have one. There was a slight twitch at his lips, but there would be nothing sparked any further than that in emotional reaction. Instead, he would push forward a few steps, pausing just short in front of her. Issuing a hand forth, he would offer it to aid her in rising back to her feet, before speaking in a low and dark tone, “Arise, it isn’t befitting to see a woman upon her knees unless it’s to beg for her life, or to pledge solitude to someone. You are doing neither…And as for a name, how about I give you one for you, hmm…? Would that make things better, then perhaps this sort of incident may never come back to haunt you.” While his words seemed sincere and just, his eyes and features would not play any forms of emotion.
Unknown - March 27, 2008 03:29 AM (GMT)
She closed her eyes against Manic’s voice. Pain shooting through her being... only it wasn’t pain... it was shame. She was ashamed of what she was at this moment, in front of this man. Slowly she pushed herself up from the ground. She stared at Manic, her hair had already moved back to its original place. She looked as though nothing wrong had ever happened to her, as if she’d been standing talking to this man without a single mishap. She closed her eyes and it was a long moment before she opened them again.
“I uh... sure.” She didn’t know what else to say or do. A name for once would be nice, chances are she wouldn’t end up remembering it. It was hard for her to remember things anymore, hard for her to do anything anymore. She blinked at him again. “I can’t promise I’ll remember it though,” A pang of remembered pain shot through her head, making her dizzy for a moment, but the memory of the pain had already begun to fade, and by tomorrow she wouldn’t remember it at all.
“The demons that haunt me are a lot for me to bear,” She whispered the words to the darkness that closed in around them. “King Manic Deathstorm,” She moved closer to him and gazed into his silver eyes before she looked out at the lake. She wanted to tell him about her death, but she didn’t remember it, and he wouldn’t believe her anyway. A shiver ran down her spine and she was wondered what it was. Her senses were dull compared to a normal person’s. “Is it cold?” She really couldn’t tell. She whispered another thing, almost as though it were an afterthought. “I guess I really am my torturer.”
Manic Deathstorm - April 3, 2008 06:12 AM (GMT)
“Demons eh…? Now now, they aren’t all so bad as you seem to paint them.” There seemed to be a disregard in his eyes while she clambered to her feet, not wanting to add to the awkwardness she must have been feeling at the moment. After all, the two of them seemed quite more alike as the time ticked on. They both seemed to have their random episodes, but his own insanity was something that came and left on an instant, triggering rapid and complex changes in both his personality and behavior. Cordelia learned that the hard way, but unlike the others she was the triggerer of such a scene for him. For which she paid, while it would have been her life that she paid with, it wasn’t quite that way. She paid a much more serious price than just simply with her life. For a life could be taken within a simple flick of the blade, but it took great cunning and cleaverness to break down such a woman to both render her pride and honor to nothing. She was his for the length of their contract together, not anyone elses, but simply his…A woman whom claimed to serve no one and acted as though she were above everything else. It was such an invigorating feeling to behold, a feeling that seemed to etch a wide spanning grin across his slender lips.
Granted…There was a stipulation to the contract and that was to eliminate Fehade, but it would be a minor annoyance that would be taken care of within due time. Speaking of time…When was he supposed to even bring a close to this whole ordeal? All the while the thoughts jumbled throughout the empty caverns of his mind, a perplexed look would take and twist his countenance. Gradually each of his features would soften in appearance when the thoughts parted from his mind, only to be replaced by the woman’s words once more. “Cold…?” The word rolled off his tongue, while his eyes trailed across the languid opaque waters that lightly washed their way across the shoreline in a methodical succession, before retracting back into its large body, “It might be cold…I don’t care to pay attention to such petty things, they’re unimportant really. As for the torturer thing…”
His lips would curl upwards in a smug grin at the thought of his next couple of words, knowing full well what they may or may not do, besides it would be something that would be fun to do, “You aren’t your own torturer, I am your torturer in this twisted place you view as hell. I am your King, I am your Lord, bow down and give forth to my claim. So, tell me child, I’d like to hear it in your own words, what brings you here? The whole death thing, it must have been quite traumatizing no?” By this point his head would lean forward as would his body to bring his face as close to hers as he could. The sound of his voice seemed to go from a powerful booming voice, to something along the lines of patronizing and mocking with its tone. Whether she would catch that and pull the curtain on his little act would remain to be seen. Though, with the way the conversation had been going thus far, it would not be a possibility, for she would buy it hook line and sinker. And when she would, the same torturous scream would let loose from her slender mouth as the agony took itself upon her at the memories she stirred to life. Most would call him cynical and maniacal with ensuing such an act, but in his view…It was something that was both necessary and needed. There was so many unexplained reasons behind why he would do such a thing, that it couldn’t be explained easily.
Unknown - April 5, 2008 11:37 PM (GMT)
She had dipped her foot into the water, feeling it around her ankles but not the temperature of it. She almost wished she could recall what warmth and cold was. She moved back to Manic and moved back over to where he was standing. He moved his face very close to hers and at that moment she got her wish because her blood ran cold when the words left his lips. She turned to face King Manic. “You told me you weren’t my torturer.” She backed away from the man slowly and something wild and inhuman in her purple eyes. She looked like an animal backed into a corner that would bite the nearest hand, helping or no.
She didn’t know what to do at first. But she knew what she had to do. She had to survive down here and to do that she had to bow down to her King and Torturer, just as he demanded of her, otherwise... she didn’t want to think about otherwise... otherwise was worse than now or could be. She would have to answer him, but she didn’t know whether to bow down first or after. “Death brings me here,” She decided not to kneel just yet so that he would hear her words as she spoke. “Yes, quite traumatizing.”
She slowly sunk to her knees, she had nothing left to say. Her eyes still gazed up at King Manic, truly aware how much of a torturer he could be now. She closed her eyes as her knees finally settled onto the ground. She stretched out her arms in front of her so that her forehead touched the ground. Her emotionless eyes opened to stare at the dirt. ”Do with me what you will,” The words were hollow and empty yet that was what made them so chilling. It was almost as though a promise of something more was in them, a deep thing struggling to the surface but couldn’t quite break it ... yet.
Manic Deathstorm - April 7, 2008 04:32 AM (GMT)
"You told me you weren’t my torturer.”
That was it! That was the look he had been looking forward to receiving from his words. The wild and shocked look was something that sent his blood pumping throughout the very core of his being. Oh such a gracious feeling it was to finally break someone into a realization they never knew, just as it was such a grandeur feeling to break and bend someone to his own will. The past couple of days were nothing less than fantastic for him and it was beginning to show across his features in the form of a wide spanning grin that could be matched by none other. Rarely had he ever smiled and there was a reason for that…Though, it was of no importance now. Instead, the woman bowing before him was the one and only prime concern to him at the moment.
She really had believed that she was nothing but an underling to him, granted it wasn’t the way he really wanted everything to turn out. But like hell if he was going to argue about it, since this almost seemed to play into his hand of cards far better than anything he had originally thought out. Curious eyes bore themselves down upon the woman, listening as she spoke her emotionless words. The poor woman didn’t even know what kind of commitment she was making; it was almost saddening…Almost. Lowering himself down to a crouched position, a hand would move out to lightly tap her on the head, before motioning it in an upwards fashion, “Stand up, there’s no sense in staying like that. Besides, I have something I’d like you to see.” A wry grin crossed his slender lips; while he rocked back to an erect stance just thinking over how easily manipulated this woman proved to be.
The moment she would rise back to her feet, both of his hands would move out to her shoulders only to lightly grasp them to keep her still. Again his neck would crane itself to bring his forehead mere inches from her own, “Remember what I said about demons not being as bad you seem to paint them? It’s true, because we’re much worse than simply that.” The grin remained prominent upon his features, but his eyes would darken in their manner and pick up a deep set crimson glow to them, which seemed to illuminate them within the darkness that shrouded around them. After a few moments, the glow in his eyes would fade and they would return back to their onyx shade of hue once more, “I am one of them…From the things people have told me; I have the eyes of a Devil. The only difference between me and the rest of those demons, would be the fact that I’m not all entirely ruthless. I can be…should you cross me, however…” With the last few words that flittered from his lips, both of his hands would part from her shoulders, but his right would slowly lift to run the tips of his digits briefly across her cheek as it retracted back to his side.
Turning on his heels, Manic would take a few steps forward and away from the woman to create some distance betwixt the two of them, until he would pause a few feet away from her. A hand would instinctively lift to his chin, the thumb and index fingers resting on opposite sides while he thought, “I’m also stronger, better looking, and lastly…Much more giving should I receive something in return. Basically, I can make your experience in this realm much more enjoyable if you serve my every purpose.” Silently he mused to himself over a few idle thoughts in his head, ‘A Devil needs his minions after all,’ the thought caused him to break out into an insane laughter. It would soon subside after a few moments when the thought of the woman behind him returned to his mind, “Say…What’s the one and only thing you would like to achieve in your existence here? It can be anything you want.” The second the last word broke free from his lips, he would turn on the heels of his boots to face the woman, wanting to catch her expressions while she thought out what she truly wanted.
Unknown - April 16, 2008 07:55 PM (GMT)
Alright so I'm an idiot and accidently deleted this post...
So sorry X_x
Manic Deathstorm - April 19, 2008 04:16 PM (GMT)
Intrigue captured Manic’s countenance when the woman before him curtsied out of respect and after a time offered her request of him. It was a request that would not be easily granted, but it could still be something that he still could aid her in acquiring. Even if he didn’t though, it would make little difference, she was his now and nothing was going to change that for the time being. Unless of course she turned into Cordelia at the last second, then…Then perhaps he might just consider killing himself…But that was far and in between and totally unlikely to happen so he was safe for the time being.
Now…She wanted to know who she was…As of right now there was no answer for it. Nothing he said would probably satisfy her, no less anything he said would more the less be a lie of any sort. Though, it was worth a shot…Sucking in a breath of air, his eyes narrowed in their focus upon the small frame woman, voice subtle in its tone, but remaining powerful all the while, “You want to know who you are…? Well, for starters you’re a woman…Second, you died and that’s why you’re here, and lastly…You have no name. Now…” His voice would pause for a moment as a thought swept over his mind. She didn’t have a name and the last time that she even thought on it she went through one of her spells…
In short, there really wasn’t a hope of coming up with her name since she was the only one that possessed that information and since she couldn’t divulge it there would be no way to know it, unless of course he took her to someone who had the power to read minds. Even in such a case, it wouldn’t work well in his view…There were countless reasons for that. Taking all focus from his thoughts, it would return back to the woman in front of him, “I think I’ll just call you Selena, Harmony, or Shayna…Completely up to you on which one you prefer more. Personally, I think Harmony fits you, but I’ll leave that decision to you.” Issuing a click of the tongue, a wry smile would cross his lips, before he would turn on his heels and began his way towards the lake, where he would take a seat just a foot off from its black waters.
“Is that all you would like to know is who you are…..? If so, I could help you what I can…I can’t guarantee anything, but I can at least make an effort. Keep in mind I don’t offer a lot of people that type of offer so don’t take it for granted.” The sound of his voice was dark, almost menacing in its tone, but yet soft enough to allow her a bit of comfort in it. Not bothering to even make eye contact with her, he would simply lean forward to stretch out a hand over the waters, where he would dip a single finger down beneath its surface, causing a few ripples to shockwave out from the point of entry, “You say you’ll serve me…You realize you signed your life to my hands by saying that. You go back on that word and I will make sure every minute of your existence will end in torment…And that’s being nice about it, dear…” With that same finger, it would idly swirl itself about the surface of the waters, as if mentally writing something within the languid liquid, “I’m not somebody you want to play that sort of game about it…But enough of that.”
Pausing for an instance, his mind began to wander across a couple thoughts that jumbled through his head, “Though…You realize in order for me to help you, you have to help me in order to do so. I can’t just figure everything out on a whim.” In one smooth motion, the hand probing the water would part and place itself alongside his other, as his form twisted towards the two of them, using them to aid himself back to his feet. Once standing, Manic jeering made his way back to the woman, pausing just a few feet off from her where he would simply gaze down upon her, “You hold the pieces to who you are….It’s a matter of getting them out of you and trust me it won’t be a fun process, judging by your earlier spell…So, what do you say…? What’s the next action that we will need to take here, because if you’re not interested in going through that, then I have no further business here…”
Unknown - April 29, 2008 12:16 AM (GMT)
Her eyes dimmed at his words. She felt a small resentment blossom in her being as she watched her King. She decided not to say anything however except watch him behind smouldering eyes. He had asked her to choose anything, anything she wanted; so she had, she wanted to know herself and not feel like a stranger in her own skin and he had done nothing to help her. Instead she just listened to what he had to say the smoulder in her eyes died and was replaced once again by a blankness. She thought over the names. “Harmony works.”
Her memory worked in weird ways. She was sure she would remember King Manic but she wasn’t sure if she’d remember her name. She could remember things she learned from the point she could remember however anything about herself seemed to be lost on her. She could remember what a tree was and how to walk, even how to play the harp, but she couldn’t remember human interactions unless they were explained to her. Harmony... I guess that was who she was now. It made her immensely sad to think about it.
And then he spoke again. Her heart lightened a little bit, he would help her as much as he could. It was enough. It was all she could hope for. She didn’t care what his voice sounded like, he had said he’d help her and that was... She smiled. A first.
“No!” Harmony said quickly, not wanting her chance at knowledge to disappear. “You are my King and I am your servant. I will serve faithfully my lord,” She dipped into a deep curtsy and held it for a few moments before she rose again. She wouldn’t lose this chance. “My Lord, I’m not sure where we should start for me, there is so much I don’t know.” She struggled to string the words together so that she didn’t sound completely ignorant. “How about we start with your needs my Lord and perhaps then I shall know where to start with my own.”
Manic Deathstorm - May 21, 2008 12:26 AM (GMT)
Manic eyed the woman curiously and a bit taken back by her sudden devotion to whatever cause he may serve. There would be no arguing it though, instead he would relish the thought and bask in the glory of bending another to his will. The only question remained was….What did he truly want, out of all things what could this woman possibly offer that others could not. For a long while he simply stood in thought, eyes moving first across her and then across their surroundings until initially landing upon the harp not too far off from them.
A wry smile then took upon his slender lips and in a sick almost demented means of thinking, the thought would come to mind. Ah, it was so simple, a price easily paid for what she seeked to acquire with his aid. In a slow drawn out movement of the hand, it would come to place the tip of his index beneath her chin, only to lift it slightly so he could get a gander at those spiritless eyes. Silence instilled itself between the two of them, stewing and binding…Until the soft tone of his voice would slither from betwixt his lips, “My needs…?” A soft hiss issued in continuance after the words he spoke to add to the suspense that would build, “Your purpose will come about soon enough, but until that time reaches its closure point you will simply remain as you are. Titleless and purposeless…”
There was a certain cruelty of his voice and maliciousness of his visage, but there would be no physical intent within their display, only simple intimidation for the time being. Removing the digit from her chin, the hand would drift back to his side momentarily, “You feel don’t know where to start, you feel lost in the abyss that is your mind am I correct? Well…What is the one item that is in your possession at the moment? Think long and hard on it, because that will be the first place to start. Because your harp will bring you a couple answers that you may seek, or unlock more confusion. Whatever the case, your answer resides in the songs that you play, at some point in your life you’ve had to have heard them. It’s a matter of finding out why, where, and who. Unless you just learned them, but everyone has their own special song that they play.”
There was a pause after his words at the sudden thoughts that littered his mind. After a spell of time, a few words would release from his lips, “Even I have my own special song, but there is no instrument that I play it with other than my bare hands and the blade that I wield. Everyone has their own instrument, their own song, there’s a reason for everything. Well….Within reason, I suppose. If that doesn’t make sense, I can elaborate further for you, but for now think on that bit of information and see if you can’t think of something, anything. It’s the best I can allow for the time being, until I find something else I can use about you to help.” With that said, Manic would simply turn to move back to the black waters where he would stand, motionless.
“Why don’t you play me another song…” It wasn’t a gesture for himself, but more so for the benefit of the woman. Music tends to unlock and ease the mind, perhaps if there were really answers there for her to find, that would be the opportune time to do so.