Post by scene on Nov 1, 2009 9:10:20 GMT -8
`you rule the world, you give the word.
[/b][/font]
And if INDIGO LAVVAN BLAIR should fall behind...[/b]
"I told another lie today,
And i got through this day, No one saw through my games.
"
` you've got to learn to act like god.[/b][/size][/center]
, age . Fourteen
, rp experience . Five years.
, how you found us . Kitty told me about this place. : D
, contacts .[/size]None.[/ul]
`just let their suffering slip your mind.
[/b][/size][/center], nicknames . Indy.
, age . Twenty-Four
, date of birth . 1985.Feb.14th
, species . Werewolf (Pure Blood)
, face claim . Alex Pettyfer [/size][/ul]
`in which we nod in agreement.
[/b][/size][/center], weight . Unknown
, tattoos&piercings . What looked like, either a horrible scar or a strange - very odd indeed - tattoo. It [bearing the color of a caliginous onyx] lines made of spiraled shapes that seems to swim, faintly, down the expanse of his right shoulder to create an intricate pattern upon the small of his back.
, distinguishing features . Though. If you were to look under his shirt upon his chest you would see a long network of elaborate scars. Slithering their way across his cream skin, marring the once flawless torso with white (nearly bleached) disfigurements. The raised puckered skin is not really the most pleasing things to the eyes, more so it is rather repulsive and troubling to gaze at. Because these scar (Not knowing where they came from) are so nicely shown on his cream skin, he has made it a habit to wear at least two tops over his torso to make sure the world is unable to view these horrid blemishes.
, physical flaws . -Pokes what I wrote above- Along with a limp which appears in his right leg from time to time if over used.
, personal style . Indigo dresses rather "normal" with jeans and plain T-shirts haunting his frame.
, general description
To look upon Indigo is like looking up at a canvas of art that had taken years to complete. With every good painting or drawing the artist must create a support structure or basic outline on which to expand his work. The man is slightly good-looking, being the near-exact mirror image of his father with his perfect teeth and breath-taking charm, but much like his mother - having her pale, soft skin and gentle structure - in the same aspect. Though this subject can be argued upon, most would - eventually - come to the conclusion that he is a rather charming boy, if not undeniably handsome. Even if he doesn't have the same large build or the same flirtatious charm that some males have, and he can't even really be considered a jaw-dropping, muscular guy that girls drool over. However, there's no doubt in the world that he has a certain charm that draws the attention of much of the female gender. He is far from bulky, massive or full of muscles, but his softer curves show a sort of surprisingly lean formality that takes years of hard work to achieve.
Once the painter has finished his outline he begins to fill the painting in with colour and emotion, thus giving the painting a sort of living quality. With a straight, fine jaw that lines his face and healthy darker tanned skin, the male isn't flimsy, overweight, or any such thing. The skin that covers his lean frame is soft and smooth, where as its delicate nature allows people to know that he takes care of his body on the outside just as much as he does on the inside. It is the shockingly tan complexion that also implies he spends the majority of the day outside, rather than hiding in the shadows (as he often does, lost in the secret folds of his mind). A slim nose covers the center of his face, a thoughtful - though serious - line placating his beautiful features and soft, pink lips covering his mouth, accompanied by his usual flat, platonic smile (or frown). Finely knitted eyebrows lay just above his eyes, with lush cheeks of a pale rosy shade and pearly white teeth hiding beneath his lean face.
The face - his eyes, more so - is where his true charm is found. His eyes are a sparkling hue of silver-blue and appear to dive into the very soul of a person as he looks upon them. His eyes - if anything - may be one of the most unique part about this gorgeous fellow. They are unlike both his mother, with her brilliant cobalt pools and emerald orbs that changed colour depending on her mood, and his father with his dark grey pools, flecked with lightest bits of sallowed ebonite. As with most of his traits, it seems that his eyes also come from his father and mother - but in a completely different way. Rarely shining with happiness but instead with unwavering calmness, his deep silver-blue eyes, flecked with the lightest of steely blues or radiant reds, are nearly always cold and warding.
His ruffled hair is stranger than most, being best compared to a scruffy wolf and is surprisingly smoother than most, giving the appearance of a person that seems both serious and dignified though intelligent and dry. It seems to be composed of mainly an blinding honey-white, though there is also streaks of dazzling silver and paler auburn hues hidden beneath. This could be seen as the sloppiest part on Indi, but in actuality it is the most taken care of, but be forewarned that he doesn't take kindly to people making claims that his hair is a sloppy mess.
•Wolf
To be honest, you don't want to know what Indigo looks like as a wolf. As a sinner. For the people who got close enough to remember his eye colour now have their names printed in marble. For a demon of a wolf he has a rather soft hued pelt. The furs that cloak the lean tall body are of a diluted honey hue. Nearly white with streaks of dazzling gold and splashes of vivid auburn make up the complex patterns the pelt bares. Large paws patter the ground silently as onyx black nails scar the earth with indents every step. A shorter bushy tail looks out of place with the long narrow build of the wolf. Accompanied with a long, muscled neck, which holds a small cranium that looks more fox like then wolf. With a lengthy muzzle portraying from the skull. It seems as though this form had taken most of the human aspects with it. The pelt taking on the hair colour while the striking silver sapphire eyes gleam like diamonds within the sockets. But don't be fooled. Even if his pools have shadowed themselves with heavenly colours, this wolf is far from any sweet pet. Rather, it's the devil in a wolf's disguise.
[/size][/ul]
`help me escape from lonely choirs
[/b][/size][/center]likes •
+ chocolate. I mean, I know that it's a girl thing and all ...but forgive me if i retain the world-wide love of the sugary delicacy.
+ fast cars. It's in my nature...now, that is...a need for speed that I love to feed. oh, god...I'm rhyming now...
+ Reading. It's one of my favorite ways to pass the endless days and nights since I cannot enjoy sleeping the way most can.
+ rock music. You'll have to excuse me if that sounds a bit...out of /nature/ for my nature...but I rather think it's appropriate...mostly. I like to tune it in while I'm hunting, actually, helps get me 'get in the mode'.
+ classical music. ah, the stark contrast...while not hunting music, it's very relaxing if I feel like ripping someone's head off. Literally.
+ Singing. contrary to popular belief that hard-ass and rather cynical people with a slightly crazy twist cannot sing...if that is a popular belief...I actually have a rather nice voice. Alto with a rather husky tempre.
, dislikes .
x ditzy girls. I honestly don't know how men can abide by them? Who wants someone who flashes their chest everywhere and then laughs hysterically at something that's not even funny? Good lord, if I had control over shifting...
x humans. Call them vermin, call this a lame 'dislike' because it is common knowledge that we hate them, but it's the truth so here it goes.
x pink. There it is. Not the band, not the word for victoria's secret... The color. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck!
x history class. Oh, god, the constant reminder that I'm not getting any younger ...and learning it over and over and over again...do you know how many times i've been in highschool?
x rap music. Rawr... That shouldn't even be called 'music'... It's just a bunch of shouting rude things and clapping and whistling or whatever...rubbish, utter rubbish.
x airplanes. I know, I know...laugh at me, but I hate riding in airplanes...I know I couldn't...like, die in them or anything, but...yes. i still have yet to see what there is to gain from throwing a bunch of metal up into the sky and hoping that it gets somewhere un-scathed.
, strengths .
Indigo has a quick calculated mind, which dissects everything in life. Being able to make split second dissensions, the man is a natural at leading people.
, weaknesses .
With a nasty temper and moods, which flare every color of the rainbow, the man is rather unpredictable and at times unstable. Being very raw, things easily get under his skin and annoy him.
, fears .
Agateophobia- Fear of insanity.
Aphenphosmphobia - Fear Of Being Touched (Haphephobia)
, secrets .
Is questioning his sexuality and is suspecting that he is in fact gay.
, personality
Indigo's actions cannot be explained rationally and if asked, the only answer he could give - a confused What the heck are you talking about?! in a somewhat shy, obviously disgruntled tone - would be certainly unsatisfactory.
He can, at best, be described as someone who is factual and despite of that, is loved by those irrational people and facts he surrounds them with. Not to say that Indy would not defend a good - a very good - friend of his in a time of dire need, but does not most often act unpredictably. For instance, in a situation where it requires little speaking, he will do as such and when a large bout of charismatic ability is needed, he will accomplish it with no more talking than was absolutely required.
On the other hand, this cream-skinned boy with shockingly light hair, is known to explode into unexpected outbursts of anger and frustration, his usually solemn silver-blue gaze filled with the flickering flames of rage and hate. There have been times when he was expected to take control of a situation as he always does, calmly and reasonably, where he acts irrationally and follows - what, he muses, other people refer to as instinct - his heart. Bah!, they'd say when asked of Indy's emotions. He has no heart, they'd all agree with a nod, as if sealing the deal. So confident and sure of themselves, these people would assure the one asking that they had made no such error -- but ah they have. Indeed, Indy has a heart.
It's just so hard, terribly difficult indeed, to discover.
Far longer than he can remember - now that somethin has seemed to block all of his memory of the past... well most of them - Indy had been someone different. Yes, every now and then he has that strange burning sensation - as if pushing him to do something dangerous, out of line - but he quickly pushes the (what, he believes, some call courage but he, now, refers to as foolish bravery or rashness, if you will) feeling away. Once upon a time, Indigo was charming, outrageous and brave; he's was the type of boy that girls wouldn't mind getting roses from, receiving chocolates from and would laugh about later on. Quite stubborn in his own right, he had been densest - above all - about matters of love, even though he seemed to be smart in everything else. Contrary to his shy, calculative nature now, he was funny and great -- the type of guy you wouldn't mind being more than friends with. Around his friends, he's was always smiling and laughing with a joke here and there. Though people rarely hear it now, the man had (and still has, believe it or not) one of those rare laughs - you know, the ones that start out as a soft, chuckle and then turn into a grinning, throw-your-head back kind of laugh? His is all of that and everything more. Whenever he laughs - a warm, inviting sound - the people around him can't help but join in; his laugh is simply contagious.
Not that he does much of that now.
Back then, it was almost impossible to not like Indy (his smile, his laughter, his grins, his voice and just everything about him was inviting) but now it's quite hard to even enjoy his company. There's always awkward silences that make's the company around him fidget and surprisingly under confident of himself, he's never sure whether he should initiate things like that, break the ice.
One thing that hasn't been lost on him, except his terribly thoughtful nature (which makes him, often more than not, over analyze things), is his being a gentle men -- you know the ones from the medieval times? When they still had knights in shining armour? The kind of boy to open doors for girls, pay for them, push their chairs in? Indeed, Indy is still that guy. Compared to the average man, he can considered to be quite an oddity; something to stand out from the crowd.
And he's still not sure whether he should like it or not.
.[/size][/ul]
`cause this is about life.
[/b][/size][/center], father .
{Eion Blair}
Status:{Close}
My father, my friend, my hero. Eion was a true man and a wonderful husband. He always told me that one day he wanted to see little Indigo's running around. For he said I was a handful to raise and the children always get it back times ten. Once he knew I was a loup-garou he only smiled and sighed. For his eldest brother was one. In the Blair family it was an accepted part of life.
, mother .
• {Annabeth Blair}
Status:{Close}
The sweet scent of cherry blossoms and the potent aroma of thick potato soup constantly followed my mother. A bigger women with a full body and the hands of an angel. Her touch was never forceful but always gentle and firm. Just like her husband she accepted what I was and even used me for advantages in the family. For we lives out in the forest, owning a simple Inn. When the moon raised in the sky she set me loose on the local deer.
, sibling(s) .
• {Sage Blair}
Status:{Close}
My dearst friend and most loved sibling. My baby sister Sage. It's not all sugar and spice between her and I. For are constant arguing and sharp blows at each other only seem to bring us closer. I'm fiercely protective of her and for that reason I ended up isolating myself as a youth. I wouldn't be the cause of my sister's death.
, pet(s) .
None
, other family .
Unknown
, history
When we were children we believed the world was full of magic. We believed in myths and legends, and that destiny awaits. This is the world I remember and the one I wish, I had never known.
So vivid are these thoughts I never considered them reality. The strange air of unreal quality is what made them into a dream. And yet, it never seemed so close to the truth. I don't recall my past, or the people in it. I was adopted at thirteen, not every teenagers idea of bliss. But, it has become harder and harder to ignore these images splashing around in my head. This single dream keeps appearing every time I close my eyes to allow sleep to take me into the unknown. Though I have become familiar with this particular dream, it is always terrifying and leaves me in cold sweat as I awaken from its nightmarish traits. Every time I blink, pictures dance behind my lids. Mocking my ignorance. Is it not only natural I'm starting to question? But where are the answers I seek so strongly?
This dream I will never forget. The sounds, the smells, the sights. It will forever be embossed in my mind as if someone branded it there. These images that haunt me refuse to leave. I'm trapped within my own world. My own hate for what I am.
It all started on that simple November night. My shorts were soaking wet from the melted ice as snow clung to me. The heavens allowed small crystals to seep from its surface and glisten in the moonlight, which coated my home with the most potent and stunning glow. I could smell the snow; it had a kind of tang to it, which I new must be the scent of the clouds. Ah the beautiful scent. My eyes had found my sister, rolling in the snow as if it had been her first time. She was such a small fragile girl. I loved her with all my heart. To see her so happy it just made me feel warm and ever so grateful for my life.
I leaned down, my hands outstretched to the freezing blanket of white. As soon as the tips of my fingers brushed the white powder they recoiled in shock. The chilling sensation that was sent up my arm, was unfamiliar and unnatural. Hesitating for a moment, I leaned down once more grasping the icy snow in my hands. Already the flakes were melting into liquid as it touched my skin. Then with deadly aim I chucked the snow at my still playing sister. It hit her in the side and she looked up to see me. Her eyes were blazing with determination and joy. My own were shining with mocking laughter. I saw her glance at mom and dad (Strangely when ever I dreamed I knew that this man and women were my parents) and I just smiled widely, just like she was doing. But as soon as I heard her move my eyes were back on her. Before I had time to register what was happening snow was sliding down my cheek. I was laughing so hard now my gut was hurting in protest. The muscles tightening and flexing to the point I was nearly yowling and spasming just as my voice was. I quickly then wiped the snow from my face and gave chase to my sister. She was a fast little thing, a speedy feline across the ice. I was trying my best to keep up with her eight year old body, but my thirteen year old mind just couldn't force my muscles to go any faster.
But as soon as my sister froze, I did to. What had she seen? Did she give up? That's when I saw it. The lights in the woods. My whole body tensed up and my mouth parted in a gasp but no sound came out. Then I felt my mother's hand, rough on my own, her horrified expression betraying the panic I knew she was trying to hide. Her other hand laid tightly on my sister, claiming her arm with a maybe to hard clutch. She wouldn't let us go, and by the way her face was twisted in pain I could tell something was wrong.
"Someone's there.
It was my sister who spoke first. Her voice so innocent and shaken it made my heart ache. No… She was too young! I couldn't let her be hurt. I could already feel the warm salty liquid building in my discoloured eyes. Amazingly I had an understanding of the situation, of what was happening.
"Get back in the house."
It was my father this time. His voice was so strict and threatening it made me flinch backwards. Never had he used that tone before. Cringing into my mother's side she did nothing to remove me. Then I registered what was really going on. Mom was pulling Sage and I back to the house, my father on our heels, a little to quickly and panicked to cover up the alarm both were going through. As soon as the warmth hit me it felt like a slap across the face, making my cheeks tingle where the snow had touched me. As soon as dad was inside he was locking the door and reacting for his gun… gun? Dad wasn't hunting. He never touched his gun unless. NO! I was surprised I hadn't screamed those words out loud. My knees locked like a startled colt as I started shaking violently. Mother had pulled away from Sage and I, and was now packing quickly. NO! I screamed again in my head. I was unable to force my lips to part so I could speak.
I watched as Sage rushed past me to the couch. Her hands clutched at her porcelain doll. It's blond hair a mess and it's thin body cloaked by a simple dress. Much like the one Sage was wearing herself. I went up to her, ghosting her footsteps. I was to scared to be away from her. I placed my arm around her; I then noticed I was still shaking. The trembles shaking her small body as well. My knees were bent awkwardly as my arms locked in place. I couldn't ever begin to describe this pain that was burning through my veins. I had never known hate. I had never tasted it on my tongue as I did now. It felt like someone let acid go through my system, eating everything in its path painful slow. What a disgustingly powerful feeling.
Mom had everything packed and was coming towards Sage and I. I saw my sister glanced at dad and I followed her eyes. My father was looking out the window, his own face twisted and marred under his composure. Once he glanced at us I saw him slip, his face was so troubled it made me shake more aggressively. When he nodded my mom instantly started pulling Sage and I to our basement. By rules we weren't allowed down there. I never knew why but I was sure I was about to find out. But when Sage couldn't move I stopped to and watched dad for the wrong minute. The door was open and before I knew it. I could hear the bang as the trigger was pulled, the sound of air splitting following right after. My mouth gapped open in a silent scream. But the scream in the air was not mine.
"Daddy!"
It was Sage who screamed. It was Sage who couldn't understand yet saw her father be shot right before her eyes, right on the threshold of our house. I could see the tears that were tainting her skin, I wanted to hide her, wipe them away and then kill those men. My sadness was quickly replaced by pure rage. I could feel my skin crawling and shivering with the emotions. I wanted to taste their blood and tear their skin from the bones. I wanted them dead and I wanted them dead now.
The smell of the blood was over powering. I would have lurched forwarded maybe even pucked if my mom had not pushed me to the stairs in the basement. I had seen the horror on my mom's face and I knew Dad wouldn't be coming back. He was really dead…. I didn't look back but I heard mom slam the door shut and start to lock it. I was running down the stairs. If I stopped for a minute I would lose myself to my fury. I tried not to focus, tried not to think as my feet flew over the wood. Each step the boards under me moaned in protest. That was when I noticed my mother was still trying to get the lock to work when I heard footsteps. Sharp tapping of heavy boots on wooden floors, it came closer along with the tapping of canine claws. Before I could scream at my mother to move she was down the stairs curled in pain. It had only been two shots and a scream, so quickly it happened I didn't even register what had just taken place till my mother started yelling in agony. <i>NO!</i> I wanted to shriek but I found my lips closed in pain once more.
"RUN INDIGO! SAGE!"
Some how my mother found her voice and was yowling at us. Then I smelled it before it was burning my eyes. The oil and smoke, which belonged to the fire. I could hear it eating at the dry woods my home was made of. Who were these people, taking my family and my home from me?! I wanted to hurt something, kill something. I could feel the heat pushing against my skin and I knew I had to get Sage out of the house. Her lungs were smaller then mine. They would surely collapse if she inhaled smoke. I moved my hands to her arms and yanked her towards the north end of our basement .It was instinct for me to pull her in that direction considering I have never been down here before. I was running. I didn't know I had tears running down my cheeks. I was unable to categories the many burnings of my body. Fire licked at my ankles, burning the skin and peeling away the blond hairs that once had laid there. I would have yelped out, but I was too angry to care. Everything was already so painful.
By some luck I found the other door, I ripped it open the chains snapping under my grip as it shredded into my hand. Blood splashed across the ground, tainting the wood and steel with the thick maroon hue of my blood.
By some luck I found the other door, I ripped it open the chains snapping under my grip as it shredded into my hand. Blood splashed across the ground, tainting the wood and steel with the thick maroon hue of my blood. The smell that was assaulting my senses was strong and potent. Sage didn't notice my oozing hand as I pushed her through the exit, shoving her body into the snow as she whimpered in protest. I didn't even recognize my own pained voice.
"Sage! Run! Sister! RUN! "
Her eyes... So sadden and twisted, I nearly thought my heart was going to combust then. The pain didn't stop, not for a moment as she whirled on her feet and ran headlong to the forest. Soon her form vanished among the trees. Shadows chasing her while licking across her skin. I had to convince myself she would be safe in the shadow. I knew mother would die, so crawling through the narrow door way, I scrambled in the snow. All of a sudden the snarling and barking of madden dogs filled my ears and I found myself watching three black hounds running after my sibling. How dare they sick dogs on a child! New fresh anger lashed through me, engulfing me in an uncontrolled displeasure. Deep base laughter of older men filled the night, with the frighten screams of a child and the hungry howls of the hounds. Doubling over my own body I let the tears fall, let them leave long lines down my exhausted face. Though... Everything became a blur. My rage, my blood, the smells and sounds. All awareness was stripped from me like the very memories I looked for from my earlier childhood. Why?
This is when I awaken in cold sweat; nearly screaming and so terrified each time. And yet, somehow I think that these events are some how true. My adoptive mother, a young women with no husband or other children was always kind but did little to try and understand me. I was thankful for that. She tells me that I was found half frozen to death in the local pool. The authorities had thought someone had tried to commit murder, but when no records were found of who I was or what had happened the case went cold. The police came nearly every day back then questioning me, and doctors worried about my mental stability.
My adoptive mother doesn't like to talk about the day she took me in; she says it gives her nightmares still. I was told I looked so frightened and twisted that she thought I might have been horribly abused. Yet I hold no sour flavour for any person. But I do in general for society. Fitting into school was hell, I didn't understand anything they tried feeding my brain. Fractions? Adding? What the heck was all this numbers and symbols. Never had I seen such a thing. Even being blonde it didn't take me long to catch on and soon I was at the same grade level as the others my age. Never though did they accept me. Sure girls would be attracted now and again, but I have become so bitter they are nervous to walk near me. The guys feel it to; they shy away from my touch or cringe if I bump them. It's impossible to understand. So for the rest of my teen years I was alone, my adoptive mom and I. Don't get me wrong, I loved her company for she never hovered. But she would sometimes worry herself sick, and that upset me. Was I really this much of a trouble to society? So here I am twenty-four, young and a jerk. Got to love life!
[/size][/ul].[/color]
` which only hollow voices sing.
[/b][/size][/center], member title . The Space Heater
, rules word -admin edit-
, rp sample .
A pallid young man - but in reality still just a child - was on his knees, crouching over the hardwood floor of his once-animated, now-barren living room. It looked as if he was doubled over in agony from any onlooker 's point of view, as if he was straining to avoid collapsing into a fetal position, but it was only the mark of concentration taking its toll.
His frail arms barely seemed to support him as he bowed his scraggly blond head down; tiny drops of perspiration were starting to form on the teen's forehead, and he had to put great willpower into resisting the urge to wipe his brow. A break in focus wouldn't end well for him...though it was a bit too late to be thinking that now, as he had already gotten distracted by the scuffs on the wooden floor.
A lazy gaze swept over a particularly large mar on the varnished oak, disregarding his inner self's chastisements. It was so desperately yearning for the tense youth's attention that he might even have called it obscene, but all that surfaced in his mind were fond yet melancholy memories. He simply couldn't associate any feeling of negativity with that specific scrape, as if a supernatural force compelled him.
Of course, it was actually because sparse images of his siblings continuously invaded his mind. He welcomed the flashbacks, of course, but...
No. He wouldn't dwell on that. Not again.
Much to his gratitude, another thought ran through his head, simultaneously as his nostalgia at first but quickly gaining the upper hand seeing as it pertained to his standing issue of summoning - correction, trying to summon - a "demon": It was quite a relief that he hadn't started the incantation yet.
He had read - once, just once, but it was so gruesome that it was now very likely etched into his memory for eternity - about what happened to those who erred in their performances. Terrible, unspeakable things - he never could have imagined that such damning fates were even possible in this universe.
In a way, such texts were how the illusion of a normal, average human realm was shattered; his father's compilation of varying information on the otherworldly community had opened his eyes, so to speak. Secretly, however, he believed it was all for the worse.
Ignorance is bliss, they say. He had never been a believer of that ridiculous notion, but gradually...he was starting to sway.
He mentally reassured himself, albeit in a harsh tone. /Focus, try again; it's gonna work this time!/
There was a vague undertone of desperation, though; one that was beseeching whatever supreme entity that existed to let him succeed.
His arms had long since begun to tremble due to fatigue and trepidation, but he couldn't be deterred - not now, not in this stage. He'd mulled over the consequences of failure one too many times, but even then he had mustered up the willpower to go through with it.
He wouldn't be a sore disappointment by letting a -bit- of tiredness overcome him.
That was his promise - his vow. One he fully intended to keep.
Soon after, awkward strings of Latin words broke free into the silence, stirring the placid atmosphere into a chaotic rage. It was as if nature itself was warning him - a mere mortal lacking genuine magical talent - to put a stop to this madness, to leave the demonic force of the magical world be. However, determination flared into his painfully average brown eyes, giving them a momentary spark of vitality, and he persisted.
As this was his first attempt at invocation, he was vaguely confused as to how everything was supposed to work; he didn't even understand much of what he was intoning. Would he be presented with a flamboyant and gaudy appearance of the demon, or would he be subjected to blatant hostility and a steaming pile of lies? Would he be manipulated if he let down his guard just a miniscule amount, as easily as the texts say? Or could he resist?
It seemed as if his curiosity didn't matter, though. The chalk-outlined circle staring up at him from the floor didn't display any change, and the air around him was still dull and serene.
"No!" he shouted suddenly, surprising himself, pounding a fist on the hardwood floor. "What...what did I do wrong? This is supposed to work - I did everything the book said to, and -- /This is supposed to work!/"
He buried his head in his lap and assumed a defeated position, pounding his hand on the floor just one - no, two more times. A frustrated cry racked disrupted frame, despite his efforts to stay quiet, but his rage and dejection soon crumbled as he finally noticed that the runic circle had begun to glow an eerie, pasty green.
"Yes!" he expelled, overjoyed. "Yes!"
He was about to throw his arms up into the air but suddenly remembered a crucial mistake he -might- have made: when he threw that fit earlier, did he...?
An alarmed glance flew across the entirety of the circle, checking for any gaps or smears. Sighing with relief, he muttered "Thank God" as he discovered that no, his hands hadn't messed up his summoning circle.
"Thank him? What -for-?"
The voice - calm, educated, and so unbelievably /unintimidating / - seemed to have come from nowhere, but the elated young man discovered that it had come from within the summoning circle.
His breath caught in his throat - not from awe but from astonishment and surprise - as he drew in the appearance of the "demon" with puzzlement; she looked nothing like he had expected! Sitting cross-legged in front of him was a women - just a girl! - of maybe eighteen years of age. Sure, she looked odd with her glinting silvery eyes and obscured face, but the clothes, the demeanor - it all seemed...
"Too human," he spoke out loud. Soon, he stood up - too mystified to remain sitting - and regarded the seated demon with inquisitiveness. For the moment, it was as if the demon was surveying her new surroundings, though without a visible expression Felix couldn't tell exactly what sort of reaction he should prepare himself for. But the discomfort in his limbs was no longer felt, and the trembling ceased, for the fear previously gripping his mind had been alleviated somewhat by the appearance of a female.
In response, the demon raised her head slightly - but not enough to make eye contact - and grinned, revealing a set of normal human teeth. "-Too- human? So you expected a beast, then?"
"Well, yeah," came the rather dumb reply. "And smoke, claws, fangs, brimstone --"
"What do you /want/?" the inhuman creature sharply interrupted.
"You're Cierra right? The soul eater?"
The demon, Cierra, nodded once, but slowly, like she was questioning her summoner's intelligence at asking such a stupid question.
"I want you to work for me. My name is Felix Renaud, and --"
The demon interrupted again, though this time with a snort which was, well, quite uncharacteristic of her. /What self-respecting wizard reveals his full name so readily?/
"It's not that simple."
"No? I thought it would be; you bound by the circle, doing what I say in exchange for freedom..."
Any other human speaking this way would irritate Cierra, seeing as there would almost always be a sarcastic arrogance present in the tone, but this Felix was apparently really that naive.
"Do you know all my names?" the demon prodded, deciding to humor this juvenile by speaking.
"Uh...what do you mean?"
"I'm also 'Cierra of Sloth'"[/u]
"So?"
"Of /sloth/.
Upon receiving no response, she continued with a shake of her head. "It's really not that simple."
"Well, then --"
Once again, Cierra stopped the human in his tracks, but the disturbance was not so subtle this time. She abruptly stood up and extended a hand to the edge of the circle, seeing how the magic stood up to a light mental barrage.
"Wh - what are you doing?" Felix demanded, taking a step back.
"This was poorly made," Cierra commented with both amusement and disappointment in her tone. A light, seafoam green wall of visible swirls of magic stretched to the ceiling. It flickered a caustic, neon blue every time the demon's fingers came in contact with it. "But decent," she grudgingly admitted, realizing it would be too bothersome to try and break out of it with brute force.
"What are you doing? Stop!" Felix shouted, but it was all to no avail. Cierra was intent on testing this obvious amateur's skills further, and mere yelling wasn't going to stop her. Too bad he didn't realize the demon's lack of effort; he was getting unnerved and riled up for, well, nothing.
Or perhaps it wasn't necessarily..."nothing."
Peculiar, bone-like appendage began to grow from the demon girls rear; it extended all the while emitting a ghastly cracking sound that made Felix's own bones tremor with pain. Said appendage inched towards the chalk marks on the floor, looking for areas where they could penetrate the colorful impediment and reach the youth.
It would only take one stab into a major organ in order to break free of servitude, but the magical wall seemed solid.
Cierra withdrew the osseous protrusions and slipped both her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, calmly asking, "Alright, what do you want?" another time.
"...You're not gonna try anything else?" Felix questioned with a note of suspicion.
"Do you -want- me to?" [/u]
"Well, no, it's just that -- well --"
"Sloth."
"What?--Oh, I see, okay. Gotcha."
He was still dubious about everything, but he wouldn't goad the creature into making things harder for him.
"But before we start, I read about you and..." The blond's voice trailed off and became distant as he slipped away from the living room and into another section of the house. Cierra stared after him with confusion fogging her own mind; how could he be so unfazed? When she was first summoned, the brat looked as if he was about to die of horror and shock, but now...
It's as if he underestimated her for her feminine appearance.
/Interesting,/ Cierra mused. /And how perfect./
The thin youth's departure was short-lived, and when he came back, there was a medium-sized plastic container in his hands. It was packed with red meat.
"Here you go."
Felix slid the meat-filled tupperware through the magical barrier, whereupon Cierra quickly snatched it up and regained her original sitting position.
Opening the container, she took a whiff and glanced up at her soon-to-be master, raising a brow...not that Felix could notice it.
But he seemed to get the message.
"You like eating flesh, right? So there you go. 'Flesh.'"
"...Human flesh," Cierra dryly intoned. "-Human-." [/u] The demon honestly didn't feel like explaining the diet of a Jackal.
"Well, I don't have that, so you'll have to do with beef."
Sighing disgustedly, the demon grabbed a long chunk of meat with her lean fingers and began to viciously tear at one end of the strip, somehow managing with the ectoplasmic shell's dull human teeth. The meat wasn't that fresh, so, due to the lack of blood dribbling down her chin, the sight of Cierra "enjoying" a meal wasn't too unpleasant this time.
"...Right," Felix began, alienated by the barbaric manner with which Cierra began feasting. "Do you know about what's going on lately in the human world?"
Cierra wordlessly looked up, but this time her golden-blond curtain of hair parted to show a glimpse of her eyes: bright emerald and displeased.
"Okay, guess not," Felix continued, making a memo to himself never to bother the demon while she was dining. "People have been disappearing. Just - vanishing into thin air. Another person disappeared yesterday, and...and..."
An audible gulp sounded as Cierra swallowed a morsel. "Let me guess, your family?"
"Yeah, how did you know that they vanished...? No, nevermind, it doesn't matter...But this is why I need your help! I need to find out who kidnapped my mother and siblings! They're the only family I have, so please --"
/What's in it for me?/ Felix expected Cierra to ask. /I don't feel like it, so why should I help?/ But such inquiries never came; all that the demon had to say was a monotonous "Fine."
"Really!?" the even-more-elated youth exclaimed, before noticing he had elicited an irritated growl from the other.
"No, no, sorry!--Don't answer that!"
/So how do we seal this?/ Felix mentally questioned, rifling through an adjacent stack of books. /Where is that book? Let's see, uh.../
He was so preoccupied by his task that he didn't notice that the summoning circle's barrier had rapidly weakened and disappeared. Unnoticed by him, Cierra took a step out of the imprisoning geometric shape and approached Felix as silently as a wraith. She once again extended a bony spine from her tailbone, and at the sudden noise, Felix leaped back and fell down, ending up just centimetres away from the protrusion's deadly sharp point.
Cierra withdrew the extra appendage, realizing why her would-be strike had failed her just now. "It appears that I'm already under oath. I was going to kill you, but I'm already bound to serve."
Felix breathed a sigh of relief once more and made a move to get up; however, he was pinned to the ground by Cierra's murderous leer and oozing malicious intent.
"Actually, I lied."[/u]
That pleasant skip in the Soul eater's voice - Felix had a feeling it told of torture to come.
But Cierra couldn't believe that the human had immediately accepted a strange demon's word, though she hid her minutely incredulous discovery well. Of course, now she was lying about lying, but she just had to test the summoner some more.
A hand shot out with incomparable speed and grabbed a fistful of the larger youth's shirt and drew him closer. "I can still kill you. Right now. You know that?" [/u]
Unbeknownst to his own ears, Felix started to whimper, dazed at Cierra's unexpected change in countenance. The demon's mood seemed a little lighter, but at what cost? His life?
He could smell the meat on the "girl's" breath from earlier, and just thinking that he could be the next meal...in only a few minutes...it...the fear, the anxiety...
"I can /gut/ you. I don't suppose you know how painful that is?"[/u]
The demon shook Felix roughly, then gave him a forceful shove, knocking the vulnerable male into a rather tall stack of books. The impact made the tomes topple with a loud clutter and made Felix fall to the ground with a muffled yelp.
"I can /cleave/ you to /apart/ in the most agonizing way possible. Not even limb by limb - not even between joints! Between the /bones/. Just imagine all that wonderful blood flowing and flowing and flowing..."[/u] A hiss of delight made itself known here. "I'll carve you up nice and well before peeling the very skin off your face; oh, you'll keep me full for a week,--." [/u]
Cierra stopped suddenly, satisfied that the human was now sufficiently terrorized, though mildly startled at how little it took to cow him. It usually took a lot more show of magic, perhaps a bit of chasing, maybe a bit of perceptual distortion, but...it seems this Felix was nothing but a pushover. Though his fear was absolutely luscious.
"Pathetic,"[/u] she smugly sneered, eyeing the teen as he still tried to back up into a corner, seeking safety where none could be attained. "You haven't even invoked protection." [/u]
The demon tilted her head to the side, speaking once more. "Of course I can't kill you that easily, once the circle's dissolved of its own will. Haven't you read /anything/?" [/u]
Felix locked his stare on Cierra's form, wary of what she'd do next, but decided he could unclench. Already having forgotten the words that led him astray, he believed what the demon said this time.
...He was still shivering from the sudden shock, though.
"I-I knew that," he muttered defensively. He kept staring at the oak floor with knitted brows, shame and humiliation flitting across his features. "I di-did, I /did/ read."
Cierra adopted a wry grin, wordlessly doubting the youth.
"But don't get too comfortable, -human-,"[/u] she spat. "My cooperation means nothing significant." [/u]
Then Cierra approached the teen and leaned forward, displaying one of her most sinister, sanguinary grins. Just for show.
/Just for show./
"One day, I really will devour you. Piece by piece. I'll make sure you're still alive until the moment I scrape the very flesh off your bones." [/u]
A dark, low-pitched chuckle, greatly misplaced, resounded from the girl's chest as she patted Felix's cheek with utmost disrespect.
Purposeful strides showed her down a corridor; she knew the outside world was in that direction. She could sense it.
Placing a hand on the doorknob, Cierra called out: "Summon me when you need me, /Master/,"[/u] and departed, claiming one last derisive laugh.
[/size][/ul]
` are there giants too, in the dance?
[/b][/size][/center]This application was made exclusively for Nevermore by Maura Lee Bee. Steal it, and I will release the hounds when you least expect it. And they're not cute little puppies either. They are ravenous beasts because I constantly forget to feed them. They bite, by the way. And love flesh. Don't make me release the hounds. O _ O
Lyrics are from Meg & Dia's "Are There Giants Too, In the Dance?" on their album Here, Here, and Here.
[/size]Lyrics are from Meg & Dia's "Are There Giants Too, In the Dance?" on their album Here, Here, and Here.
