Chloro
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Jul 14, 2013 4:43:59 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 14, 2013 4:43:59 GMT -8
Why was the smell of mint mouthwash so prevalent? Chloro had crammed an entire tube of fluoridised toothpaste down. Still, that didn't quite explain it. The answer was that Chloro was very close to the Lieutenant, grinning widely at her lack of brain-to-mouth filter, exhaling minty goodness.
"Don't be shy now - tell me how you really feel..."
She was using her sotto monologue that she reserved when people bleeding to tell her their life story or running out of soft things that hadn't been hurt yet. Her hands lifted with their own accord and wove themselves in between the Lieutenant's braided scalp. She shook the head between her fingers, no doubt disheveling do and causing considerable discomfort. It was a nasty and efficient trap. Not to mention, you could turn the person's head easily enough with a turn of the wrist. First, to face-to-face with Chloro. Which would be considerably awkward for the lieutenant, as Chloro was behind her and not interested in letting her actually turn around.
"You've promised yourself to more than one devil. I'd advise you square your deals with the right one first."
She didn't explain what was owed, because the Lieutenant would pay, willingly or not, sooner or later. And to which was the right devil? Dresden? Chloro? Diva? Besides, she was giving advice, even through it seemed to be a spontaneous torture session. Next, to Dresden/Eralam. Beet-red and rising. He was flushed in ways that Kuroro could never seemed to have inspired. Was Chloro jealous, the same way Kuroro had been that he favoured Margot? No. She was above that. But she wasn't above revenge. They had picked her apart to get at Eralam. And hurt her. Now, they were on her clock and they were using her revenge time to romance each other?
"I'm glad you decided to come along, Dresden. Just like old times, eh? But I'm hurry to get a along. She'll still be here when we're done. Hopefully."
That eye had calculated to anger Dresden, who she had had promised to keep him straight and true. If it meant earning his hatred, so be it. He was best served in a rage, not love-sick. Chloro didn't give him the satisfaction of growling at her before she pivoted the head of Margot to face the long and deep hallway to the pit. To no-one in particular, she whispered
"I'd hate if we discover a candle instead of a the inferno I was promised to find..."
The mechanical hand released Mccan's tenderised scalp. It was the gentlest reminder to "stay on target" that she had given. Chloro was willing to escalate it, if in case someone wanted to appeal her suggestion. She was sure that she'd be able to manage that, followed by a witch and everyone else. She was climbing her sheer and rising...
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Deleted
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Iziz
Jul 14, 2013 5:20:46 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 14, 2013 5:20:46 GMT -8
Eralam artfully cocked an eyebrow at Chloro. He knew what she was trying to do, and he wanted her to know that he knew. She had always been a master of playing people and their emotions, though truthfully, she did better with a crowd. Mob mentalities are far easier to manipulate than individual targets. He managed to get his hormones back under something resembling control with a few calming breaths before addressing the females.
"Chloro has one of the cleanest mouths you'll ever likely find, Margot. Hell, if she bit you, you'd probably end up healthier than when you started. Pay no mind to the mint behind the curtain."
Focus on the trivial, deflect attention and emotion away from the barb.
"At any rate, this won't be just like old times." The mortality rate won't be as high, not if I can help it, he thought to himself.
"Ladies, I'd like to apologize for my earlier behaviour. Highly unprofessional. But what was lost has now been found, and I aim to use it to the best of my abilities. Neither of you stand much of a chance of taking on the bitch close. Let me handle that. I want you two pouring as much fire into her as possible. Shoot through me if you have to. I'll be alright. Try to set up interlocking fields of fire, and try to time your reloads so that one of you is firing at all times. She'll likely try to get around me and use one of you as a hostage. I'd recommend not letting that happen, because I'll shoot you myself before I let her take you. Chloro, if you have any more of those antipersonnel mines handy, or any other tricks that don't involve chem rounds, I trust you to employ them as necessary. If we have to retreat, gas the place to cover our exit. I doubt it'll do much to the bitch, but if your blend is persistent enough, it should kill anyone else that stumbles upon this place before she can get to them. If we make her expend enough energy trying to fight us, it's entirely possible that we can starve her out. Margot, you may notice a marked increase in your reflexes, or that your instincts are much sharper than they were before. If so, all I really know to tell you is to trust them. If your gut is telling you to duck, do it. Any questions or suggestions?"
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The Major
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Iziz
Jul 16, 2013 8:49:04 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 16, 2013 8:49:04 GMT -8
What the?!
What the Hell was that for? Pulling on her fucking hair? What was this, the temple at the age of six surrounded by children who didn't like you very much because of some silly hair style? Who gives a bloody shite if Margot was just talking, and who cares if it was sappy. Margot was busy picking up ammo and pushing bullets into empty StG magazines right before the big pull came. Besides, death was sure to take her in a few minutes anyway: if she wanted to have a crappy conversation that helped keep her head on her shoulders then she would, by the biggest pile of stinking refuse, do so. Besides, she should be screaming or pulling at lover boy over there. He was the one blushing with a run away freight train of hormones; Margot was simply preparing for a big fight.
The now scarlet faced woman turns to the Agent while stepping backwards, massaging her recently abused scalp.
"Get fucked, Cyclops."
Another heel turn and Margot begins stomping off towards in the direction of where the fog incessantly poured out from. Beyond both Dresden and Chloro's field of view, regardless of how angry the El-Tee's body language seemed, the left corner of Margot's mouth spiked upwards in a snarl of sarcasm before the look reverted to something a little more normal in regards to this hopeless situation.
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Chloro
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Iziz
Jul 17, 2013 7:33:52 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 17, 2013 7:33:52 GMT -8
It wasn't fair to say that Chloro was mean-spirited. She simply had different ways of showing concern. Chuckling, she shook free the strands of hair that had remained between her fingers. She also knew no better cure to that rotten feeling of impotent anger than spreading it those around her. It whetted her apetite, as a rage aficionado. Margot swore her disabilities to cover her insecurities and Dresden had to do breathing exercises to recover his self-control. Being angry was such a pure thing - it filled your little world right up. Besides, it would prevent the witch from getting her ideas in there.
"No sir, Dresden, sir."
Authority was never Chloro's strong point, her Lieutenant-hair-pulling exercises being a case-in-point. She was used to working alone, only playing the strategic game and leaving the tactical game to be dictated by the moment. And for the moment, Eralam's orders sounded like a good one, so she'd do it - until she changed her mind.
And all her angry defiance couldn't have prepared her for the moment she started walking into the fog. It triggered a primeval fear of the unknown, filled with the horrors that she knew of. Her knuckles whitened around the stock of her replenished rifle. There was a door and Chloro gingerly opened it, carefully, as if it were booby-trapped.
More fog. Nothing on night-vision. More darkness.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Iziz
Jul 17, 2013 14:07:54 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 17, 2013 14:07:54 GMT -8
!Ka-stip Ka-stop ka-stip ka-stop ka-stwhip ka-tok!
Heels in the murk, echoing like nostalgia laced bullet points in the impenetrable mist. A tall figure pokes through the gray, proving to be Margot cautiously backpedaling with her storm rifle leveled at a yet unseen target. Not much makes an Einstazkay quiver, but apparently this place was a perfect ice cauldron to cause normal humans to tremble and doubt. Soon two pink lights appear in the fog, followed by lithe frame clocking in at about 5 feet, 8 inches.
"HEIL!"
A bluish gray hand raises and shows its palm to Margot in the casual version of the infamous Fascist salute. Closer it draws until the figure is a sight for all three of the "heroes" to behold. Pink everywhere: a pink Lolita dress with white frills and accents, white Victorian boots with a generous heel, pink matching bonnet, and those slight and feminine fingers were steaming with rolling waves of heat -the source of this unnaturally physical obfuscation. A black lipped smile, tightly drawing and bearing no teeth touches the Voice's face, showcasing a warped sense of self that was already warped during her life anyway.
Kuroro.
Not just any Kuroro, not just a clone of Kuroro -but the Sithspawn in magnified glory, rebuilt with the most perverse of occult magics. This was her, it -a parody of anything she once was: hope, dreams, directives, bad plant programming- but far more morose. For if this were just a bad imitation, much like the original Kuroro was of Chloro, then at least the original person could be absolved of any madness committed; here such was not the case, and you could see it with her lusty pink eyes. Woe unto this minion, now driven by passions of a different sort. Woe unto those who must know this new fire, vastly improved. She had been given a true body, similar to Dresden, and this was simply to fabricate this poor joke into a vessel that the Witch could play with. Who ever was behind this creation obviously didn't mind leaving Kuroro with all the markers of painful surgery: her face alone split along four gashes that resembled cracks in a sidewalk, the flesh beneath black as ink, and something far deeper inside was glowing with the orange light of fire this beast was designed to use. Blue roses had been tucked into all manner of places upon her personage, and at least four different ones decorated her hat.
Kuroro knew EXACTLY who the three people standing before her were. Still, she would play her part willingly, for it was not some prefabricated blood that coursed through her wretched flesh, but her Queen's black ink. Besides, why give these meddlers the benefit of knowing they reacted to monsters on the attack? No, the Knight Sithspawn understood the irony of these next words, and truly loved them to the core of her new found soul.
The Pink Nightmare curtsies, smirking while prim and proper. Then she speaks, her voice filled with the wrong kind of mirth.
"The Countess of this Estate gracefully and cordially invites your party, our most valued guests, to dinner. What shall I parley to her?"
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Iziz
Jul 17, 2013 21:52:15 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 17, 2013 21:52:15 GMT -8
Eralam's reaction was instantaneous, instinctive. He grabbed Chloro and Margot with the Force, trying to fling them backwards, away from the thing that had appeared in front of them. If was impossible. Well, improbable. Certainly not likely. Was it?
"How the hell did you get off that ship," he snarled. Every little detail on his face and in his posture suggestion barely contained violence, destruction held at bay by an iron will.
The former Shard might not have liked Diva, but the ghastly thing in front of him was a thing to be hated and destroyed without hesitation. Only the knowledge that doing so could very well kill them all kept him at bay. Razor sharp tendrils of thought lashed the air between the two, desperately seeking to cross that last few inches and slice the Sithspawn to bits. Eralam was holding them back, but the slightest slip in concentration was all it would take to loose them.
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Chloro
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Iziz
Jul 18, 2013 11:11:45 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 18, 2013 11:11:45 GMT -8
As Margot walked backwards, she past Chloro who wasn't prepared to take a step back. Fear had given a crisp clarity to her world. It shrunk to only the hallway, intently focused on those rhythmic steps coming closer. The sights came up, aimed at the sound. The 40mm grenade sat in its chamber, made with love, its whole point and existence was for this moment. The moment of truth. Shoot the blue-eyed girl in eye. Give her a taste of the cruelty that fate had played upon her.
Except her hands had other plans for her. She saw the glowing eyes and nothing happened. They simply refused to pull the trigger, forcing her watch as the steaming hand was followed by the rest of Kuroro, smiling her smile that she had learned to hate. And again, she was helpless to stop her, even though she had Dresden behind and a loaded gun in front. Chloro exerted her being to bend her hands to her will and kill Kuroro, straining to pull the trigger until tears formed. Such was the intensity, that Chloro's body didn't even budge when Dresden's pull washed over her. Or even fear for her life with the tendrils to her back. She wanted to scream bloody murder, taking her revenge that was to be paid in full, in flesh, in this instant. But she couldn't even unlock her jaw to say the name of the monster that had disassembled her life.
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Iziz
Jul 18, 2013 12:02:27 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 18, 2013 12:02:27 GMT -8
The wave of raw, searing emotion from the one-eyed woman washed over Eralam and threatened to drown him in their murky depths. His rage and hatred for the warped Sithspawn copy was nothing compared to the seething intensity pouring off the woman in front of him. He wanted her dead because she had killed him. Chloro's grievances were far more complex. Death would have been a relief; and yet it had been denied. The old Shard knew he had no right to steal this from her, however much he might want to. Slowly, carefully, he began to reign in his own emotions, lest they get the better of him.
Once his thoughts were again under control, he walked towards Chloro, pressing himself against her back. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"Six rounds, baradium core. Ten cm radius."
And with that, he slid the Colt down into her waistband. The old warrior wanted to comfort her somehow; Chloro likely wouldn't survive if it came down to a fight. The scarred operative was one of the best he had ever seen, but there was a limit to what the human body could take. Odd that he cared what happened to her. He never had before. He certainly would have never trusted her with his oldest and most dangerous weapon. Goddamn the human body, mind, and associated problems.
Eralam settled for squeezing her shoulder gently with his now empty left hand.
"Good luck. Die cleanly or live. We'll be back shortly."
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Flo
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Iziz
Jul 19, 2013 8:02:28 GMT -8
Post by Flo on Jul 19, 2013 8:02:28 GMT -8
"She's back, y'know..."
::I know::
Grass rustled in the breeze. The sound of gunfire had faded away, leaving the entire Chateau in a kind of dissonant serenity. Flo still watched the field from the sights of her machine gun, waiting for any other creatures to try their luck while the doctor stared off into space, methodically working through his packet of smokes until there was a collection of stubs at the soles of his smart lace-up shoes. She imagined what it was like inside the building. Were they all dead already? Had the witch claimed them so easily? Or were they taking a respite? There was not enough information. They'd need to move...
::Let's grab a walk::
He didn't wait for her, loping through the field, case swinging casually. He didn't try picking his way through Chloro's cluster mines. Instead, there was another way to the lower-levels, an entrance from the tower but it was locked. Flo obliged him, using her knife to break the lock and enter. Both could see in the dark and both knew the layout better than the owners. Another locked door, another forced entry. Down a corridor, down a staircase and toward the cellar. In the dark, there was only the dull glow of a dying cigarette, the phosphorous glow of the dials on a watch and the barest reflection of light from a pair of glasses.
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The Major
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Iziz
Jul 19, 2013 11:13:16 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 19, 2013 11:13:16 GMT -8
Meanwhile, in places less dominated with people trying to have a creep out competition, and more dealing with people in tune with a careful equation.
"Now who's fucking waxin' dramatic. . ."
Quips Margot, who had successfully been tossed unto her rear end by the power pull of Dresden. Gathering her bearings, she rises and settles into a position a few meters directly behind the ex-Shard. The woman's gaze, however, is looking past the melodrama and to the spot where the pink test tube baby had stood just a moment before Dresden unleashed that wave of energy -which had effectively toppled a wall and left a cloud of atomized rubble.
"If yuer both done holdin' eachother, I say we move et; this has tue be'a trap. I dinnae th' history, an' ets thick, but et cannae be worth playin' this exactly as they want us tue."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Jul 19, 2013 11:57:20 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 19, 2013 11:57:20 GMT -8
A cue choice of words coming from the most insignificant person inside this compound's decaying walls. A game was indeed being played, and the beast behind all these esoteric leaps of logic which dominated this twisted play could only sit comfortably and watch as all the broken Basic as each person -each an ocean in their own right, each beautiful, spouted off lines she had already predetermined. Was it predictable? No. It was the loveliest display imaginable. All she could now was sit upon her impromptu throne, watch the black arrows draw closer, watch them surround her -each a pointed gun baying for her demise- and smile.
"Knight to eee-seven. Pawns to two and three. Move, you pretty people, move closer and move me. Heh heh heh."
Buzzing blue eyes survey the theater which had been converted into quite the dining room thanks to Kuroro's stitched together type of style. Look! Little blue ribbons tied upon the silver ware.
"Get up, Knight. This reality is worthless without your touch. Get up, show them what we are -the merciful fall of night."
Anon, above and beyond.
The pile of rubble shakes, and then explodes outwards with the intensity of a thunder roll. Up stands the Sithspawn, glaring towards Eralam with something you wouldn't see splayed across her face during her first life: hatred.
"I. Just. Cleaned. This. Dress." There was a rip upon the sleeve of her arm; besides this, the Pink Nightmare looked completely unaffected, albeit dusty."Why are you even angry? We had an agreement! As long as you were a god, you'd be mine to worship. You failed, so I ripped your useless head off and melted your eyes. Sure, the agreement was one that I made inside my head, nor did we exactly shake on it, but you knew. You knew. What right do you have for anger, Coward? How did I survive from the ship? Easy. Someone who gave a damn saved me. She covered each of my little molecules with her ash. "
Kuroro quivers her arms, and two blue roses fall from the sleeves into her steaming hands.
"You couldn't even cut it as a rusty god for a plant -all you had to do was add sugar and water; how much hope do you have as a shoddy excuse of a man? Be civil, you germs: this is your last chance. You think I want to pick your meat from my teeth? I just want us to be happy, be healthy, all one big family."
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Chloro
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Iziz
Jul 19, 2013 22:39:00 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 19, 2013 22:39:00 GMT -8
Ka-Blam!
She had to admire Dresden's choice in guns. As a rule, she hated these little bang-bangs. Once you've demolished entire cities with a flick of the finger, nothing could ever give her quite the same fix. None-the-less, this revolver earned a three out of ten from her, which was far higher than the two out of ten that she had given her grenade launcher. Chloro had grabbed Eralam's hand as he shoved his junk down her pants, twisted around the trunk of his arm, locking his elbow, using his hands to hold the revolver. If her hands were unwilling, she would find another's to do the job. The Sithspawn was picking her way out of the rubble, the saccharine voice getting warming up. Kuroro still loved to talk, but did she hear an angry note in her sickly sweet voice? Chloro was glad that she had evolved one step higher, from the petri dish of pubescent magazines to bittersweet reality. That meant she would be able to appreciate what she was going to do to her. Should she aim for the mouth? No, she didn't want to kill her quite yet. A little down, squeeze the pressure point in Dresden's elbow, until all the tendons pulled taut.
Her shot was aimed to blow the Sithspawn's elbow away and fired her shot to punctuate the word "family". I'm happy to see you again, sister.
She released his arm and began to walk over to the Sithspawn. The voice of reason cautioned that the pink monster was a trap. If so, the huntsmen had made a mistake in setting a bad trap. Traps were the easiest way to catch a prey but it was all too easy to turn it around. Chloro was ready to go and see whoever had brought her revenge fantasy back to life and give her thanks. Once she had the witch, her personal reward would be a weekend retreat with the girl in pink, with a hammer.
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Iziz
Jul 20, 2013 6:46:00 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2013 6:46:00 GMT -8
Eralam rolled his eyes as Chloro began to expertly manipulate his arm. It was a good move on her part, but she clearly knew dick all about antique weapons; the pistol was a single action. He decided to throw her a bone, cocking the hammer back with the Force as she brought his arm into line and adjusting the aim ever so slightly. She would have fired high, a rookie mistake with older pistols. Gotta aim just a titch low. Still, it looked like he'd be keeping his baby. The pistol, that is. He might be losing his everloving mind, but he was not one to attach terms of endearment to people. Guns though, they were loyal and didn't die so easily. So yeah, the Colt was his baby.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Jul 20, 2013 7:16:13 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 20, 2013 7:16:13 GMT -8
Oh yes, that 10mm round could probably cause a lot of problems for a human. It would probably ace a Schiff right on the spot, even with their speed, but for the newly minted Chevalier, things played out a little differently. First and foremost, time had already slowed down to a slug's pace, and so severely, that as the powder charge blew and the bullet exploded the Sithspawn could count the tendrils of fiery energy that lanced out like a spastic wavelength. One, two, three, then orange, then deep bass, four, five, six.
How slow!
It was quite pretty. So very pretty. Is this how Diva saw the universe? Yes, little miss Special Kay was aware that her power levels had been intensified to a level just slightly beneath the Queen who had forced all this upon a suicidal plant -but this was unexpected.
Kuroro walks forward, watching as Chloro's eye spread open a millimeter for every undead breath the Pink Nightmare drew. This human's voice was like a rumble from the deepest pit of Hell, slowly forming the sentence that would eventually end in Sister, but that would feel like half an hour from now, at this rate.
The round clears the barrel and soars at what seems 10 centimeters per second. She could see the sub-sonic boom traveling in the bullet's wake, like little gashes in the air that warped it and pulled at the molecules of oxygen. Curious, Kuroro moves over, squatting to the bullet's side and nearly touching the spinning lead with her grayish blue nose.
Is this what living was about? Kuroro didn't know. She was just a collection of parts in her past cycle, and now she was being held together by the perverted black ink that surged in veins and organs that were not hers. Was being alive about fighting something you didn't have to fight, or maybe lashing out ever after until something put you down? The Sithspawn was beginning to understand her Queen's gospel. These poor people were crying out, filled with negativity, brimming with so much suffering the Lolita could feel the dark energy of their killing intent fill her with the will to stand. Oh, poor, wretched creatures. How could you go on like this for thousands upon thousands -millions- of years and not expect the universe to try and comfort you? Her impulses told her to rush over and hold them, to say them that everything would be fine -but this was a lie. It would never be fine, and they could never be happy, at least not more than a few seconds, and that was after building that happiness upon a city of lies.
The Pink Nightmare's face contorts with agony at the realization that billions upon billions of living were suffering as she did this duty dance.
How could Diva be so calm about this? How could stand watching all these people wail and throw their weapons at her, over and over? How could she stand these waves of torment for eons? But the answer was obvious: Diva had to. She was the answer this galaxy had sent. No wonder her songs were always so sad. She was sad at these fools for hurting themselves like this endlessly. Right now, Kuroro missed the simple days: when she could try to cook for Eralam and pretend like his cold shoulders and smoke clouds meant he cared, but that was the rub, no? Every piece of happiness was built upon a lie.
No more.
Deep breath. There was a mission and an objective to fulfill. Still, this was all so new, so why not check out what else she could glean? The Sithspawn now walks circles around Dresden, inspecting his human form, and finding herself thinking about how different everything could have been if he simply had hormones.
Still, he was a coward. He wasn't brave enough to truly help anything or anyone. He was just following orders and getting through each age with a sigh. Pathetic. But was that her thought, or Diva's? She only remembered worshiping this now reduced man. Ugh! This was all so confusing! Why did Chloro sort of resemble Kuroro? Sure, there were slight differences, but looking at Chloro was like staring at a broken mirror, or was Kuroro the broken mirror. And what was that other woman standing behind them, glowing pink from the stomach. She didn't smell right. No, no, no. There was something quite wrong there. What did her badge say? Lt. Mccan. Well, this Mccan woman carried a pain of a different sort.
And as if to prove there was something completely off, Margot's ocean blue eyes suddenly twisted and flicked towards Kuroro as the shard in that woman's kidney pulsed with the energy of a self contained nuke ready to blow.
Ew. Ew. Those eyes. Ew.
Disturbed, Kuroro walks back, slowly allowing time to revert to a normal state, following the bullet and watching it smash into the wall with much harm if you were a brick. From Chloro's point of view, it would appear that after the gun fired, a wisp of bright pink had zipped about as if trying to write it self as a message while zinging back and forth within the party of "heroes" before reverting back to the same spot. Crestfallen, Kuroro speaks in a tone almost akin to bashfulness.
"You guys are really freaky. I don't like it. Please, I don't want to kill you. Don't make me kill you."
The Sithspawn now crushes the two roses in each of her hands, causing a few of the blue flower petals to fall gracefully unto the cold stone beneath.
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Jul 20, 2013 7:42:11 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2013 7:42:11 GMT -8
There was one set of eyes in the room that could follow the pink monstrosity. She was quick, but there was a blade in this house that had moved quicker, guided by a hand that could have done to her what she was doing now. Eralam keeps his eyes from, his face straight, daring not to betray so much as the slightest twitch.
Kuroro was working in the realm of gods now. Probably cocky as hell, so sure of her newfound powers. It would be so easy to show her what real speed was. But that could wait. They all had their cards to play, and she had just tipped hers down a little too low. She would realize just how badly outclassed she was if Eralam had to take on Diva directly. That would surely be worth watching.
Still, the temptation to reach out and tap her on the shoulder as she walked past was there. It wasn't overpowering, not nearly as strong as the urge to kill her at first sight had been, but there none the less.
And then she returned to place.
"Tell you what: why don't you take us to your new master? We'd be ever so grateful."
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Chloro
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Jul 20, 2013 9:23:12 GMT -8
Post by Chloro on Jul 20, 2013 9:23:12 GMT -8
For once, Chloro was willing to back Dresden's lead. She glared incredulously at the bullethole that should have gone through Kuroro. Clearly, she wasn't on par with taking this particular monster toe-to-toe. For all her obvious dysfunctions, Chloro was nothing but a pragmatist at heart. Kuroro wanted them to play her game, she was willing to oblige. Chloro knew what Kuroro was like when she couldn't win. Not nice. Not nice at all.
She still remembered her half-curled fists and the eerie sensation of looking at your own hands and being unable to move them. At first you imagine that they're only numb, but then she comes and takes them away. You watch as the only things that ever made you special, the thing that you loved to do, dangle, greying already. And those little mantras that were designed to keep you sane don't work anymore. You panic. You relent. You promise them anything. This had nothing to do with courage or willpower, it was torture. It was inevitable to happen sooner or later. Except, like any master craftsman, she let you know that she couldn't, wouldn't stop. Then the real show begins. Because she not only knows your tricks, but also knows you.
Knowing Kuroro is what made Chloro relax and show her her hands, open palmed. As long as she was talking, there was no danger. The moment she stopped and started doing, then it was time to worry. Take me to your leader, pink monster. Just you wait...
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The Major
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Also known as Sailor Titan
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Iziz
Jul 20, 2013 11:37:35 GMT -8
Post by The Major on Jul 20, 2013 11:37:35 GMT -8
An interesting note about this manor was the design layout chosen for the paths leading to the theater. You had one long hallway, one entrance leading away from where the Ice Queen now lay. Going far enough would lead to a "T" shaped intersection. You go one way or the other and each side mirrors the other in layout. No matter which path you took, you would reach another 90 degree turn that would follow along the other wall. Keep following the other wall and you reach a massive staircase. There were no other paths, unless you blew them up. Currently, Kuroro was blocking the one path on the Manor's north side. While the Sithspawn was torn between fighting the three heroes, or doing as Diva had told her to do, there was another two pairs of footsteps who had passed their staircase and were now trotting calmly across the south side. Progress was completely unhindered, although now Florentjin would no doubt hear the thumps as what appeared to be a fight took place. Now she and her master were nearly reaching their 90 degree turn, which technically meant they were winning the race. Naturally, the easier the road in the start, the harder it would be in the end.
As Gukky took the lead, it would be around this point while walking down this lightless hallway that he would realize there was something at the end of it. Guess who.
In low key singsong, soft and smooth. "Willkommen zu dieser verrückten Zeit: zat ist vot it's all about! Willko-oh-om-men ze dieser'verrück- ten-en-en-enen Zeit!"
Very well, Diva. I see your pawns and raise you one soul and one model: ten rounds for him, five for her, and a year each if I can hold them until your friends arrive.
It's as you say, Dok; subtract one year each if you fail. Cutting it close there, Huntress; but that's how you like it, no? Walk the edge of sanity, walk on the edge of the wolves' glen proudly. Just remember: they don't have a name for the place you're going to if you fall crying.
Threats? Poor Devil, now I know I have you on the ropes. Those who wear their thoughts upon their sleeve are doomed to be abused by those who can read.
You're delicious.
Superior genes.
No, something far more base. There is a darkness that abides deep behind your freckled face. But, soft now, actions will suffice! Here they come, now show me more of that tasty spite.
There sits the Major, dressed up in her trademark attire, but not shaggy or bed ridden, but perfectly kept and clean, meticulously, down to the very last fiber of the 1,000 count thread wool. At first, from a distance, she appears as nothing but a freakishly large spider crouched over the humble bench, but slowly the form shifts until it is quite clearly the same woman Florentjin had a staring contest with over Kuat. All six feet four inches of sickly pale and black freckled goodness, with the right corner of her mouth spiked upwards in a smirk.
"Ah, 'Doktor' Gustav Remiak von Kodaly, unt Model 190: Florentyin. Such ein lovely day outside, ja? I'm lookingk forvwardt to vwalking outside vonce done hier. Please, Herr Kodaly, if zyou vouldt be so kindt: be ein gentlemann unt sit vith me.
The Major's ridiculously sized curl bounces once as the woman's lanky arm motions to the space to her left. It was important to note that there was nothing distorted or shifted about her appearance, even as the white leather glove spread calmly to further illustrate where Gustav should sit. It was also important to note that the cherrywood rifle-musket was leaned up peacefully upon the wall immediately to the Major's right, and well within a quick grasp. Furthermore, although the lounging stance of the woman implied an air of laziness, her lengthy legs were crossed and clearly angled in such a way that they could be described as attractive, sensual -laced with the kind of charm any well kept woman could manage in her sleep. Finally, and possibly the most important point, the weapon was at full cock and ready to strike the silver frizzen.
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Gukky
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I remember... The Major.
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Iziz
Jul 21, 2013 7:04:05 GMT -8
Post by Gukky on Jul 21, 2013 7:04:05 GMT -8
The footsteps stopped shy of the pool of light.
A terrible-smelling cigarette glowed thoughtfully in the darkness, its owner contemplating the spidery creature that had stopped them. The dials on the watch turned ever so slightly, a surreptitious check. The epicene charm that the Major extruded would be as good as any excuse for watching her. Feet shuffle as he changed his vantage on her, affecting to consider her from a different angle. Was he appreciating the well-proportioned limbs? Her poise? He kept her waiting a little too long for gentlemanly courtesy would allow.
But then again, the doctor was no gentleman.
Emerging from the gloom, Gukky ambled slowly toward the Major. His tie was neatly tucked behind his coat and his hands were in its pockets. Not nearly as tall as the Major, he still shared that gawky intellectual frame, mildly emaciated from too many late nights and not enough solid food. He had a wan smile of his own, that insisted that they were acquaintances on a chance meeting. In an abandoned cellar, with explosions not too far off.
Accepting the invitation, he sat on the wooden bench.
::Thank you, Major. What are you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?::
Bemused smile.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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If blood is the currency of life, then what's its tax collection service?
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Iziz
Jul 21, 2013 7:18:49 GMT -8
Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on Jul 21, 2013 7:18:49 GMT -8
Now they want peace? Kuroro's first offer was to lead them peacefully to her shunned queen. Now after a bullet misses they want to take up Diva's olive branch. Confusion began to bubble to frantic levels as she started hearing voices -not of Diva, for her suggestions were always clear and direct, but of the ghouls recently made in the last few days. All of the bad people the Lolita had killed and turned into mindless fresh flesh eaters had been added into her pool of lives to spend. Their blood was like a forced upon contract, draining and collecting the soul and multiplying power levels. Problem: those people you eat are sent in part to chaos, where they suffer as they watch their corpses do more harm; problem: if you weren't ready to handle it, they fought back, trying to take your place as the "king of the temple." Right now, Special Kay was unfocused, nervous, wondering why her Countess had shoved her into this tentative position.
Then she realized it within the hundred or so whispers rage licking the insides of her awareness. . . This had to be a test of loyalty, to see what her mettle was. Chose Eralam and the same path as before, or indulge her new leader and throw herself at her enemies. Diva's orders had to be a metaphor. Inviting them to dine had to be a clever way of saying THEY were going eat Eralam and his latest whores. Right? That sounded nefarious. That sounded like the Ice Queen she remembered on Dac. Yet, something was off about all of this. What if Diva did want them alive? What if she did want to speak to them for some other reason? What if Kuroro kills them and then the Supermassive Blackhole was angry? She couldn't handle more people being upset. Besides, the Queen of Malice had not seen the hateful stares behind the eyes of these three companions. They were on the hunt, destroying everything in order to end the unlife of the blue countess. She was at risk, possibly in danger. And therein was the solution: kill the two ugly women, who had no right to be here, and weaken Eralam. She could smell it, his powerful Qi ready to lacerate her like he had lacerated the Schiff. Still, she didn't have to win, but just drain him a few levels lower so that her Queen could be safe.
Besides, she hated his stupid guts for being the reason this whole terrible drama had started.
"No. No! You're going to make her go away again! I can see it in your eyes, you nasty little bugs. Try and trick me, will you? TRY AND TRICK ME?!? !BURN IN HELL!"
Pink bursts from her sickly sweet eyes as both her hands shuffle the rose petals in like a bonafide Vegas card dealer. They light up on fire, tuck neatly between her fingers, and then she slashes the air in front of her twice, throwing exactly 40 flaming petals at sub-sonic speeds. This little attack manages to raise quite the racket, as if thunder stabbed the air within the corridor. The center of this vicious attack is aimed towards Chloro and her horrid mouth.
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Deleted
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Iziz
Jul 21, 2013 10:25:51 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2013 10:25:51 GMT -8
And it feels like they're living in that split second before a car crash. The world presents itself as a frozen tableau of violence. Everything is crystal clear, and there is nothing that can be done to hold the pain at bay.
And yet...
Shame on us
Through the scene a figure dances, his slender sword aglow as the friction from the air ignites against the leading edge of the blade. The figure is a man, but as his presence floods through the Force, it is unmistakably alien. Impossibly old, as heavy as the sea, it casts its shadow over everything from miles around.
Doomed from the start
It is the presence of Eralam, or rather, Dresden. The core is the same, but it is now spiked with emotion: happiness, sadness, hatred, joy, even the tiny threading tendrils of a burgeoning affection. Everything that the old Shard was, the new man is, everything and so much more. The weight of the thing is oppressive, tangible even to those without Force sensitivity. This isn't simply a being, this is a force of nature. And through it all, his mind's voice echoes out. Not so much words, though those would come later, as the mortal minds around him began to understand.
May God have mercy on our dirty little hearts
While Kuroro had moved at this pace as casually as a child might stroll around a park, the man seemingly danced through the corridor. The tip of his blastsword delicately kissed each of the flaming petal fragments in turn, igniting them and robbing them of their potential with a flash of blue light. To the humans present, the 39 individual flashes that followed would appear as a single event, occurring far too rapidly for their minds to process.
Shame on us
The last petal was spared the fate of the rest. The former Shard called the excess heat from his sword, cooling the blade enough that it could be safely sheathed without destroying the temper of the metal.
For all that we've done
Two fingers reach out and delicately pluck the flower petal from the air. His uncanny skill with Absorb allows him to cancel out both the kinetic and thermal energy inherent in the petal. The moisture in the air begins to condense around it as the temperature of the petal rapidly drops.
And all we ever were
The critical temperature is reached, and the moisture flash freezes, encasing the petal in hundreds of tiny beads of ice. And thus, Eralam once more rejoins the world of the living, knowing that there was only one set of eyes in the room that could have possibly followed him. His hand is still outstretched, the flower petal now resting gently in his palm. He turns to Kuroro and offers it to her, a gift from her former God, and a warning.
"Just zeroes and ones."
There wasn't so much a drop of sweat on his skin. His breathing was calm. There were no signs of exertion, neither physically or through the Force. If the showboating had cost the former Shard anything, it sure as hell didn't show.
"Take us to your new god, Kuroro, but remember this: at the end of the day, I'm the one she fears. She would kill every last being in this galaxy before she'd ever admit it, but you know it, I know it, and she knows it. When the shit hits the fan, think real hard about which side you want to be standing on."
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