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 Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 2:19 pm
Arete Muse 
"Maybe I should've told her I'm the younger prince." Arete said to himself as Luna disappeared out of the casino. He'd already tried to make life easier for the slaves and poor before. Seeing nothing better to do, Arete shifted into Luna for a moment to sniff out Liliana's trail.
exit
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Posted: Thu Jan 20, 2011 2:20 pm
 Aura flew in, smelling Arete's scent but it seemed to vanish at one point. Hissing, she flew back out to look in another place.
-exit-
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Posted: Fri Jan 28, 2011 12:46 pm
⇐| Andrew Grover |⇒
The White Shadow | Rogue | Trickster | Trainee | Werewolf
Strength = 7 | Speed = 9 "I'll keep moving. Never stopping until I'm the greatest there is..." 《《《《《《《《 =========== 》》》》》》》》 As Drew moved down the street, he saw a casino with a fairly large hole in the whole. Slowly moving inside, he looked around and saw a civilian. "What happened here...?" he asked curiously. The man told him of a fight that happened between a man in red and another boy... the guy in red died, and his name was... Will or something. Sadness suddenly crept over Drew's face as he slowly turned around and left.
[Exit.] 《《《《《《《《 =========== 》》》》》》》》 "... I am the one you never see until Death calls for you!" -Skills Used-
*
-Energy-
*350/350
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Posted: Fri Dec 20, 2013 11:44 am
X♛ ♛ ♛ ≈ RAPHAEL ☦ VAKARION
█┊███ｇｌｏｒｉｏｕｓ ｈｏｓｔ┊ＰＲＩＤＥ██┊█
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXNO DIVISIONXXXXXXXXXNO CONTROLXXXXXXXXXNO DIVISIONXXXXXXXXXNO CONTROL
- - - - - XX▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬ ▬ ▬
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXNO DIVISIONXXXXXXXXXNO CONTROLXXXXXXXXXNO DIVISIONXXXXXXXXXNO CONTROL
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⇣⇣
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX❝ RIGHT HERE RIGHT HERE RIGHT HERE RIGHT HERE
X
X
It had been a long night. Rather than play his way into a mess of a debt, he watched on as the victors pulled away with their winnings. And you could expect that Raphael, in all of his charm, would be waiting to see them out. Tonight, he'd obtained many a fortune via the hearts of the lucky gamblers. Considering he had no money in this city, that would help him get on for a bit until he decided to step back to Aramil, whenever that was. "You know, Isis..." He began to speak, the two of them sitting on a mattress beneath the high ceiling of the hotel. While the woman didn't say anything anymore, she still looked, and she still understood. It was a sad existence, but she never really had the potential for more. The moment she was twisted by Envy, she was doomed to be a nothing forever.
"I don't think this place is so bad. I couldn't really even bear it back when I was the Captain, but now that I'm just a regular person, I think it's quite nice. The lights of the city are so bright that they're almost blinding, but it's welcoming. And there's so much history here."
The Incubus smiled a little, then leaned back into his pillow. The blonde-haired woman stood up, and pressed her back against the door. No matter what, she was always there, shielding him. And yet despite all that, she was to receive nothing from him. "I'll remember this place as a city of change. I lost so much here, and gained so much. I used to think that I wouldn't be able to survive in a city filled with hungry vampires and werewolves, necromancers, all of that. Once I became strong enough to deal with them, though, my fortunes here changed." The Incubus laid out magical energies before him, the power singing out like a group of wind chimes. The light radiated before his eyes, and he grinned. Even though it was simple, he could make his own entertainment. Now that his body was different, his outlook on everything had changed. Everything, little or large, had begun to excite him.
He never really had an opportunity to really see the world for what it was, but now that opportunity was here. He could only revel in it for as long as possible, this fleeting enthusiasm in his veins. He hoped there would never come a time in the future where he went back to the way he was. The man was tired of jealousy and spite. There was no reason for him to be jealous; all would kill and cry to become like him. Many people worked for their whole lives to become a fraction of what he was. He just had to realize that. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," He whispered. "Or any night after this one. So we should spend our nights shaking things up. What do you say?" He stared intently at her, though he knew she wouldn't answer.
It would be far better for her to not answer; she'd have to lose her voice again, if somehow the Gods saw fit to give it back to her. Instead, she made the motions with her lips, that would say: let's go.
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 3:13 am
[ Message temporary off-line ]
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 9:44 am
"Talking to you is like talking to a wall. You know that, right?" Soren looked into the dark eyes of the woman known only as Isis. Soren stood beside her within a place known as the High Moon Casino. Why were they there?
"Because her master is horny and is making a game out of everyone in here." Soren folded his arms over his chest casting his gaze toward the corner where Raphael, now going by the name West, was getting wedged in for the night. It was a rather amusing game to watch. The way West manipulated people you'd think they were all nothing more than playing cards tossed to the wind at his whim. The young man turned his attention back to Isis. She was as she had always proven herself to be, silent and observant. Soren often found himself wondering if it was by choice or if she truly could not speak. Regardless she communicated easily enough without the need for a voice.
She blinked at him then shrugged her shoulders nodding her head back in the direction of Raphael. Soren turned his attention to the man. He was whispering in the ear of some unlucky woman in a red dress. The gods only knew what he was saying, Soren swore that Raphael has a tongue of not just silver but gold and platinum as well. He adjusted his stance against the wall moving slightly closer to Isis. She glanced down at the space between them. Soren made it a point not to touch her. He'd learned early on during their trip to the nation of Nocturne that touching Isis in any capacity was out of the question. She always moved away or distanced herself by any means necessary. At first Soren had thought it was because she thought he was disease ridden but he settled into the fact that she probably just didn't like to be touched.
It had been odd for Soren to show up in his apartment room in Judai City back in Aramil to find Isis, Handmaiden to Raphael, standing there with her hands clasped behind her back staring out the window overlooking the city. Soren of course had known who she was, everyone in Judai City knew who she was. She'd pointed to a travel pack neatly placed on top of Soren's bed then to Soren. It had taken him a moment to catch on but after the second series of gestures he'd gotten the picture. She wanted him to come with her. Being who she was and who she worked for Soren of course didn't refuse. Unless of course he'd had a death wish. Soren had no such desires. He'd followed her back to her master where upon Raphael had barely acknowledge him in any capacity beyond his role as a teacher.
Soren was okay with that. He was just glad to be getting out of Judai City. The place had become difficult to live in as of late. He needed the change of scenery and Isis had seemed hell bent on making sure he accompanied them. Every time he turned around there she was looming over his shoulder either staring at him blankly or glaring at him.
"How long before he takes that one to bed, do you think?" Soren posed the question to her nodding toward the brown haired man Raphael A.K.A West had latched himself on to. Isis, as usual, shrugged. They both knew that West would be making his newest conquest writhe beneath him in between the sheets before the night was over. He'd done it to countless people along their journey to the city. Why would tonight be any different? One person, Soren noted, who seemed to be affably immune to his powers of persuasion was himself.
"Or at least he doesn't use them on me. Maybe he does and he just persuades me to forget that he does?" Soren shrugged internally. It didn't really matter. West seemed content to play his mind games and make fools of everyone around him without a care in the world. Soren was still learning things here and there. That was all he cared about right now. Time would tell if his interests would change. Jerking his head in West's direction he motioned to Isis.
"We'd better get over there and remind your master that we're still in a public place. Wouldn't want him to ruin another sofa." Soren shook his head making his way toward Raphael. It was amazing how his initial fear of the man quickly wore off once he actually started spending time around him. Soren learned that when it all came down to it, Raphael really didn't care one way or the other. Whether he lived, died, made an idiot of himself whatever. Raphael didn't care. Or at least he didn't seem to. It made for traveling with the man a bit terse but it was better than the constant silence of Isis. When they'd made their way to where West was busying himself with his newest future bedmate Soren unceremoniously cleared his throat.
"Before you start making an even bigger scene than you apparently already have, I would like to point out that public nudity is likely still not an accepted norm in this place." Soren shrugged his shoulders tossing West a nonchalant smile. "In case you didn't already know that." Soren would accept whatever rebuke West gave him. It was to be expected. He'd gotten used to the fact that West didn't like to be interrupted when he was putting on a show. Isis, to her credit, was as silent as ever pointedly not looking in Soren's direction.
"Way to have my back, Isis." Soren folded his arms over his chest arching an eyebrow at the antics going on in front of him. He knew that Isis wouldn't speak up. Not that she could. He knew that if he was going to prevent them from being banned from the casino it would be up to him to stop West from getting slapped with indecent exposure. Not that he minded West exposing himself in any way shape or form. The man was, in every aspect of the word, a man. That was something Soren appreciated very much. He didn't let on to this fact though. At least he never acted on it.
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 1:50 pm
Even in this city, where all reveled in darkness, the rich still tried to paint themselves as classier than everyone else. The music around them was the only thing more pretentious than the people, a stylish classical when everyone knew they'd wanted to listen to punk rock. West frankly couldn't tell the difference -- the only songs that interested him were of the people. He heard a song, from here, about how one of the old bank owners had begun to make a mess of himself, and you could guarantee that he'd look into that. It was funny how so many people wasted their whole lives just to live out some retirement, where they were already old and grey, and without any real purpose. They wasted their whole young and healthy life, and for what?
It reminded him of some of his own songs, that others would sing about him. Isis, silent as she was, wrote to him about his origins. About how he was born and raised to rule men, and how he'd wasted his childhood preparing for that reality. That reality did not last long, and when it was there, it didn't make him happy. This, this tango between set and broken, this place of liars and murderers, this was where he really belonged. And it didn't take him his whole life to prepare for it, only a few moments after looking upon the great words. High-Moon. They're here, he told himself. Isis, and Soren, had made their way into the casino. The blonde-haired woman was always watching him, though she spoke nothing, saying she would surely be punished if she did. And with her, for the longest time, was this man. West did not know what purpose the young and inexperienced man brought to the table, but he didn't mind bringing him along. Frankly, the demon rather enjoyed his presence.
He was tall, masculine, and of a good heart. Just the sort of man that everyone wanted a piece of, though few ever found their affections. West was quite the contrary, aside from the tall and masculine part. Everyone, even those who had never met him before, knew that his intentions were unclear. He could either spring out from his web and bury into them his claws, or he could be their shoulder of support. The people, this past week, had come to know that second side of him. He was lucky. Those who found themselves resented by demons were often found in pieces between the alleyways, with not a trace to chase after. It was known well by the Incubi, and many of their kin.
Soren would've surely faced that wrath by now, if West wasn't intent on keeping him around. He could not even fathom that, despite the obvious implications, the human man was somehow right here before him, as if trying to stop him from getting his way. He'd spent a long time on this mark, and so the pleasure would be exponentially increased. He could not stand to let that chance fade out. He would simply have to handle this with tact. As he was approached, he would endeavor to respond with as much wit as he could, while somehow at the same time warding Soren off. Then again, the guy was probably highly aware of what West wanted, he just didn't care. Which made him both infuriating and enjoyable.
He glanced at Isis, who seemed mortified by Soren's audacity. The human might've not recognized it, but West did. She looked away and tried to act almost as if she weren't there, not associating herself with this public disgrace Soren was about to get them into. A big scene, West remarked in his mind. There is no such thing in Nocturne.
"The accepted norms are decided by what the eyes and ears enjoy. Don't worry. After they've fully seen me, it won't be taboo for much longer." West was of course far from modest. If there was one thing he couldn't waste his time with in life, it was virtue. He was, after all, a demon and a vessel for sin. The Vangelists would burn him alive if they could have him, and only the Vangelists bothered with public decency. Nocturne was much more to his pace. "You could stand to be a little more adventurous yourself, Soren. And not in a way that treasure chests, gremlins and ghouls could bring you. There are some things in life that can only be learned on the fourth base."
That was for sure. For example, some men chose to "learn" that the rest of life was nothing compared to the thrill of sex, and they chose to abandon commitment and courtship to pursue a life of hedonism. West could be compared to him, though he considered himself more refined. He only went for the most classy and fair of his surroundings, and managed to clutch onto their heart so tightly. It was far more entertaining than just buying some whore from the red light district.
"Uh... who is this guy, West? Do you know him?" The werewolf tried to speak up, though he seemed to be ignored. The mood had already been ruined, so the Incubus wouldn't even bother to go further than this. He'd just have to accept his losses and call it a day. "I got a room for you and Isis across the road. Did you know that almost every hotel in Nocturne is doubly a whore-house? Interesting, right?" He stood up, and left behind him a very confused and angry Were. But he didn't bother to say much else. It was apparent that West was playing games with him -- with everyone. He was a lot like the others here, though he could probably rip them apart if he really wanted to. What a mess of a man.
"So, what do you gather from the city so far, Soren? Do you like the feel of it?" He began to pull away from the crowd, slowly and steadily walking down the carpet, with Isis trailing behind. He expected the human to follow him. "It's the best place in the world for a man to do anything. I plan on staying for the long haul, 'cause I've been everywhere and have seen all of my options, and this place is the best by far." He'd planned to settle here, act as if he were eighteen forever, be driven to madness by the fast life, and then go out with a bang. A proper dream for any Incubus.
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 3:09 pm
"I could do with a lot of things, West. None of which you seem keen on providing at the moment so forgive me if I seek such things elsewhere." Soren rolled his eyes wryly. He wasn't the least bit intimidated at the moment. Whether he was being very stupid or being very brave only time would tell. Perhaps it was simply because he was so deeply unaware of just how powerful the demon in front of him really was. Regardless it was apparent that he was in no mood to put up with West's antics. As the tall man stood up from where he was seated Soren followed his movements with his eyes. His deep royal blue contrasting sharply with West's blood red.
"You can be insufferable sometimes, you know this right?" In spite of his annoyance Soren smirked slightly. Leave it to West to make light of any situation he was in and somehow turn it into a way to weasel his way into the limelight. Part of Soren had no doubt in his mind that if suddenly West stripped naked and went streaking through the casino there wouldn't be a soul who stopped him. More than likely he'd be approached to be hired on as a call-boy or they would end up leaving the casino with more than just a night's winnings. Probably a few declarations of love as well as a few proposals. West would have declined them all of course. He had neither want nor care for them. He just wanted the thrill of it all. Soren couldn't blame him. Perhaps it was West's care-free disposition that made him so endearing to Soren.
Or it was his body.
One way or another, Soren didn't seem to mind being brushed aside as nothing more than a worry wart day after day. In the carefree madness that seemed to swirl about West Soren just considered himself well grounded.
"I think Luimira is a wonderful place where every disease imagined to have ever plagued any sort of orifice ever conceived is readily available for the low price of a garden variety whore." Soren's speech was utterly flat. He regarded both West and Isis as if he'd just commented on the weather or brought up the fact they needed to go grocery shopping.
Needless to say, he wasn't quite impressed with Nocturne thus far...but it was growing on him.
"Like a bad fungus." He remarked to himself. Despite these thoughts there certainly was a mood that was undeniably catching in the air. He felt the need to let loose. Soren itched to grab the nearest attractive person, man or woman and have fun with them. He wanted to spend money he didn't have or drink his way into a coma. Either way he knew that after a few days in this city he most definitely wouldn't be saying the things he was now. It wasn't that Soren didn't want to enjoy himself. He did. He just hadn't found a reason to let go of his ambitions at the moment. He still felt as if there was something he needed to achieve, something he needed to do in order to make his mark in the world. He just wasn't sure of what that was.
"If this is the best place you've ever been, West, I shudder to think about the state of the rest of the world." The human smirked up at West. It would be an interesting night that was for sure. He felt compelled to share some of his desires with the other man.
"I don't know. I just think that there's more to life than throwing yourself into a bed, screwing some whore senseless and getting drunk or gambling your earning away. I'm all for fun but this..." Soren gestured around them. "...is this what you call living? Plotting, schemes, always playing against the odds? Itching to get your next fix? I don't think so. That sounds more like desperation to me." The young man shrugged. He couldn't imagine living his life forever looking over his shoulder. That seemed like a miserable way to live. Soren was a bit of a romantic at heart. He wanted to go on a grand adventure. He wanted to see what the world really had to offer, not just what it pretended to. He wanted to find that special someone who made his heart soar.
Was he naive enough to believe that he would find all of those things? A little. He knew it was unlikely but part of him wanted to believe in more than just the superficial jargon that was spewing out of West's mouth at the moment.
"But hey, what do I know? I'm just some bum adrift in the current of life too lost to find his way." Soren tossed both West and Isis an easy-going smile draping both of his arms over his head in a nonchalant pose. "So, what's for dinner? I'm starving."
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 3:49 pm
Somehow, the man just couldn't get what Soren was trying to say. It felt like with every word he spoke, there was a curtain concealing its true meaning. Sometimes what was behind the curtain was obvious, but then too obvious for him to make sense of it. The human was content with confusing his 'travel-companion', which really only brought him interest. Maybe that was why he did it. "I hope you don't consider phallial blockage a way to quench your thirst. If so, we won't get on well for very long." That was for certain. With each person, West only had a certain gauge for patience. With Soren, it was already half filled up, and he'd be less privy to letting the man laugh and tease at his disgrace. He made sure to monitor that mental gauge the next time the human called him insufferable. He could say the same about him.
The young mage seemed to be more than interested in the Incubus and his lifestyle, watching closely and listening carefully. He probably wondered just what he wanted from all of this, though the question was obvious and right before him. All he wanted was a void, but with a fascinating ornament to decorate it. A special place to stuff his knocker, and a man to keep his blood running alight. A simpler dream than any could ever have, and one shared by many. It was only the societal norms that Soren spoke of, that held them back.
He could only laugh at the man's description of the city, which was very accurate. That was half the reason West didn't bother with the easy ones, though he wasn't sure his improved body was capable of such afflictions anyhow. He didn't intend to find out, honestly. "Speaking of garden variety whores . . . " He drifted away from his thoughts, and kept his eyes trained on Soren. "I knew a man once. He perceived himself as so charming and talented, with a whole big life ahead of him. He was to learn a powerful form of magic that no one dared to touch, and his teacher was content to spread this wisdom to him. Of course, it backfired, and he ended up losing his left arm. What resulted was a great depression for him -- he fell into alcohol, let his lust take over, getting fired from his job and a whole slew of other things. So, in order to keep his newfound addictions alive, he employed himself in a whorehouse fit for only the most low quality of the breed. He had a nice face, but with no arm, you were practically ******** a doll. It's strange, but I can't help but feel like that story reminds me of someone. Hopefully, whoever he is, he doesn't take that route."
He didn't look at Soren as he spoke. Stories like those were a habit of his, from time to time. He liked to leave the feeling of dreadful prospects looming over anyone, mostly because it was sort of a little funny. With Soren's life right now, he could go either way. He could become a powerful and successful mage, or he could get ******** over and live in misery or die quickly. He chose to came here with West, which really meant his life was in the hands of a demon. That was certainly not a place any human would want to be stuck in.
That reminded him of what Soren said, about the rest of the world, if Nocturne was the best. West could only concur, as he knew for a fact that the rest of the world was truly ********. Fraxen could stand strong for some time, but eventually all of their radical new policies would drive them to bloody murder and carnage. Wars between supernaturals and humans would break out, then Vangelists and Vaet Nocturnum, then wars over every little thing. He didn't wish to be a part of all that, though there wasn't really an option. The days were counting down before something erupted. He could only live as his body desired until that day. Hopefully without that lifestyle getting judged persistently by his travel-companion, too. "Life is short, and full of longing," he said. "Some of these men and women will never find happiness. They will never find love, their purpose, or anything but the constant climb for money and prestige. And yet that is also the case with many other people, in the middle-class, in the low. Many of us die unhappy. Really, no matter what kind of lifestyle you choose, you're bound to risk losing it all. Living in itself is desperation, because all we can do is cling. Cling, and hope that someone with more power doesn't come along and kill us. That God doesn't smite us down. That Lady Luck favors us. Truly living is only possible if you must fear none of the three. I have come to that point."
It must've been a strange change, from spouting profanity into spouting wisdom. West was really a loose cannon when it came to what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to act. That was the only way he'd ever want to live. Hopefully Soren could learn to do the same, or his prudish, horty torty self would end up much like the people here. Lost.
As for dinner... "I don't eat," he shrugged. "Don't need to. Don't want to. Isis doesn't need to either. So I guess that one is up to you. Do you plan on having some deep, thoughtful conversation with me over the dinner table? If so, that sounds like fun. Maybe you should get something that you can eat slowly, as I like to talk for quite a while." The demon grinned. That he did, for certain.
Not after long, they were out of the casino. There were some automobiles and motorcycles, as well as simple bicycles coming through the street. He did not wait for them to pass, and walked simply through the traffic as if he did not fear it at all. He did not. A car could come crashing against him, and he'd only feel the sting of a punch. When he made it across the street, he quickly dove into the hotel to make arrangements for dinner, if there were any to be had.
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 4:58 pm
"It's funny you should bring up that story because I know one about a man who had sex so much and to such an extreme he did it until his manhood fell off." Soren shrugged. "I hear the sex was amazing. Except for the you know, manhood falling off part." It wasn't that he didn't hear the warning in Wests words. He did. He knew how much the demon hated to be pulled out of his dream of doing nothing but whatever he wanted whenever he wanted but the truth was, Soren found it to be an utter meaningless pile of tripe. West was hiding from something. He was running away from something hardcore. Soren had no idea what that was but he knew there was more to West's attitude of being whimsical and fancy-free than philosophical bullshit.
West might have fooled other people with that nonsense because he had a pretty face, killer power of persuasion and a temper the size of a mountain but Soren wasn't. The young man didn't have a death wish but he wasn't afraid of death. He knew that West could probably kill him on a whim if he so chose but, taking a page from West's book, what was the point in living if one didn't live on the edge?
"I would politely disagree with you on all three of those points, Master West. Including your notion of being afraid. You may not cling to life in all its grandiose vibrancy, you may not care whether Lady Luck favors you or God above smites you but there is something in you beyond just carnal desire and a flippant attitude. I don't know what that is, Master West. Nor do I care. That's for you to sort out but you don't fool me. You've reached a point in your all-powerful life alright, it's just not the one you think it is." Soren had no idea where his brass was coming from. Hell, he didn't even know where this whole conversation was coming from but he was bidden to participate in it. Maybe it was the storm of emotions that constantly raged around West that brought it out in Soren?
The man was more confusing than an insane asylum. That was the honest to God truth. One minute Soren thought he was the epitome of decent. The next he was as vulgar, unabashed and fraudulent as they came. Even then the next moment he was charming and endearing but all of it, every last ounce of it Soren felt was a big, utter, complete facade he used to cover up something that ran far deeper. Soren really didn't know. It was what made West both so endearing and so infuriating. Ultimately Soren just sighed shrugging his shoulders.
"I for one refuse to believe the world paints such a bleak and miserable picture. If I am a fool for doing so then I am a happy fool but a happy one nonetheless." Clasping his hands behind his back he looked out over the lights of the dark city. Nocturne truly was a nation made to live the night life. It was during this time that the city seemed to come alive. He followed West and Isis across the street dodging vehicles and stumbling past angry pedestrians hurrying along their way. When they'd managed to cross the street without getting killed Soren ran a hand through his hair looking up at the hotel. It was exactly what the young man expected it to be. Which was to say it fit in perfectly right next to the High Moon Casino.
"Right, dinner. So you don't eat. Neither does Isis. That leaves just me. I think a buffet sounds great." Before the words were even out of his mouth West was darting off to make them manifest. Within moments upon entering the hotel dining room they were whisked off to a fine table, with fine waiting staff (all of them pleasant on the eyes as was to be expected when traveling in West's company), and with fine food waiting for them. Soren seated himself plopping down onto one of the plush booths quite ready to dig in to the assortment of food in front of them.
"Deep and meaningful conversation. Tell me then, Master West, what is deep and meaningful to you?" Soren folded his hands in his lap awaiting some form of acknowledgement from the man across from him that it was okay to begin eating. Soren certainly couldn't afford anything like this. He was at the other man's mercy in terms of travel which wasn't the wisest of situations to place himself in but he'd had no choice upon leaving Aramil. Isis had made that very clear. He still had no idea why she insisted on him accompanying them. Half the time Soren couldn't tell whether Raphael A.K.A. West truly enjoyed his company or just enjoyed tormenting him and making light of everything about him. It didn't truly matter one way or the other. In the end, Soren presently lived or died according to Raphael's whims. He didn't forget that he just wasn't about to become a number etched on the man's wall of conquests. If that meant they eventually went their separate ways, so be it. Not that Soren wanted to see that happen. No matter his faults, West was still reasonably pleasant to be around.
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Posted: Wed Jan 15, 2014 9:02 pm
"Ah, I see," West grinned. "So you're one of those preachy types who likes to convince people that they're secretly unhappy and afraid. Are you going to try and convert me to Vangelism, next? Oh, I've tried already, when I was younger. And it turns out that back then, I was unhappy, and afraid of something. I was unhappy with the direction of my life, and afraid of wasting it all on pleasantries and selfless deeds. I decided that I'd live for me. My decision is done with, and that is all." Truly, there was no such thing as complete happiness. No matter what choice you made, you'd always feel missing somewhere. You'd always have second thoughts, third thoughts, sometimes you'd act on these and screw things over. That was what West believed. He could only hope to have no regrets in his life, not a single one. That was the only way to really survive in Axiom. It was a vicious world that would otherwise eat you alive.
The man was sent to his seating, with the golden haired woman and the preachy man not far behind him. The dinner tables here were quite private, screened off and fairly far away from the others. It was the real first class, where you didn't even have to look at people you didn't want to. But you could not even see the decorations from in here, the golden tapestry and the crystalline vases, and all of the statues of monsters that you could probably attune to each and every person here. "We are not what we say we are, Soren." That was the first thing he said, upon settling into his seat. Isis sat down beside him, which left two seats for Soren -- in front of West, or in front of Isis. "I can't perfectly represent what I am simply through words or actions. That is because I am a lot of things, just like all men and women. You're quite different than what you try to portray, as well. I can tell." He didn't want to go the same, preachy route, so he said nothing further in that regard. West was content with treating people the way they wanted to be treated, and seeing them how they wanted to be seen.
If they assigned themselves a facade, then he would try as best as he could to accommodate it. That was a part of the enjoyment of it all. If you really tried to hard to look into the human heart and analyze each person, you'd find them all to be exactly the same.
"Happy fools die early," he said. Living content was often softening, it weakened you to your surroundings. The ambitious were always aware of everything, thinking several steps ahead. Of course, most of them were too stupid to get anywhere, foresight be damned. But they at least had the enjoyment of manipulating these... happy fools like this man. "I actually have a question, Dagger." He laid his arms out onto the table, and stared deeply into the man's eyes. Just watching him sit around and stare back was enough for him in truth. "Do you feel safe around me because I'm so strong, or endangered by me, for the same reason? I can sense that you're a little on-edge. I was wondering why that might be." The Incubus stared on without smiling, blinking or anything. He didn't want to take away from the answer.
Isis, out of the blue, stood up and exited through the panels. She left a note on her seat saying she'd deal with the food, as it was apparent that West didn't care to be the organizer here. That would deduct from their man-to-man. "If my strength bothers you, then I'd like to ask that you make it not. I really am a simple man. I don't kill unless it's to protect myself, and I don't harm others unless they harm me. I know you have no intention of forcing me to either of those alleyways, so there's nothing to fear." He put on a bleak smile, and then slowly moved his arms across the tabletop, closer to the human. Whether he was trying to be charming or not was a mystery. He had no need to charm anyone, honestly. If he wanted, he could do anything he desired to any body. But it was so meaningless to make love to one who didn't truly want it.
"If you don't get it by now, I enjoy your presence. If you think that Isis is forcing you down my throat, then you're wrong. Isis does what I want her to do. If I didn't want you here, you wouldn't be here. I do want you here." Now, he was obviously trying to charm him. Probably wouldn't work on the surface, since Soren had this attitude like he wasn't interested in West, or that he was some disgusting filth of a man. In reality though, he craved his affections. He knew it, he could feel it.
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Posted: Thu Jan 16, 2014 6:52 am
For some reason the notion of Soren taking up a tome of Vangelist teachings walking from door to door preaching the word of the Virtuous Life seemed utterly ridiculous. He fixed West with an odd stare his mouth hanging slightly open whilst one eyebrow was quirked. Shaking his head he blinked at the man before scratching his scalp.
"Me? A preacher? No. I've never been the very religious type. I'm pretty sure that I don't measure up to the Vangelist belief of perfection." He picked up a form spearing a stalk of broccoli placing it into his mouth. Soren chewed thoughtfully as he listened to West's words. He studied the planes of the man's face catching the subtle notes of cynicism there. As he got into the small tirade about the masks that people wore Soren paused. He stuck his fork into the tender meat of an exposed lobster pulling it out of the shell. Dipping the lobster meat into a nearby saucer of rich butter sauce he brought it to his mouth savoring the flavor. He dabbed at the small amount of juices that rolled down the side of his mouth with a napkin.
"I'm curious to know what kind of person I've portrayed myself to be around you." There was a part of Soren that was genuinely interested in West's true opinion of him. The other part of him suspected that West viewed him much the same as any other person on the face of the planet, as a pair of legs waiting to be spread. While inwardly he didn't think he had a problem with that notion his pride wouldn't allow himself to be reduced to nothing more than an outlet for baser pleasures. The young man speared another stalk of broccoli popping it into his mouth.
"I suppose everyone does wear a mask in some form or another. Playing our parts in the great show that is Life." He sat up straight picking up a glass of water drinking from it heavily. The food was rich in flavor but it left him parched. "I have to ask though, don't you ever get tired of wandering into the arms of one person to the next? I feel like that is something that is very exhausting. Like a game of chess that never ends. You constantly have to change how you play the game to match your opponent." He arched an eyebrow studying the demon carefully for a moment.
"Unless it's that aspect you enjoy?" He shrugged his shoulders. Soren truly wasn't there to judge. He was, when all was said and done, just trying to glean some deeper level of understanding about the man seated opposite from him. The whole time they'd traveled this was probably the most significant conversation they'd had. He busied himself with some seasoned mashed potatoes as West posed a question to him. The blue eyed human arched an eyebrow as if to say "Ask away." He listened intently as West pointed out the fact that Soren was on edge. The young man took a deep breath running a hand through his chestnut brown hair.
"I don't feel safe around you at all to be honest. Like any sane person your strength frightens me if only because I don't want to be on the receiving end of it. You're also a magnet for interesting circumstances. I wouldn't call them bad but there's definitely never a dull moment around you. At the same time though you, as a person, don't frighten me. You confuse me." He stated simply meeting the blood red gaze that seemed to be boring into him for a few moments before busying himself with staring somewhere else.
"It's not what you say so much what you do. You tell me that you live only to see yourself happy, for yourself yet I don't see you doing any such thing. If anything you seem...unhappy." Soren looked up from his dinner plate. "The world isn't perfect. I get it. I understand that you've been through more than you let on and have probably seen more than I ever will in that same aspect though shouldn't that make you appreciate each moment that much more?" He shrugged his shoulders again catching sight of West's movement toward him across the table. His admission to the fact that he wanted Soren there was surprisingly comforting. One thing struck Soren as funny though.
"You are anything but a simple man, West." He quirked his head neither moving toward the demon nor moving away from him in disgust. He seemed to just be observing him, gauging what his next move would be. "But I think that's what makes you so unique." Soren wasn't quite as on-edge as he was before but he was still a little tense. He couldn't figure out whether this was just a ploy to make light of him for the other man's amusement or he was being entirely sincere. He supposed that was the most interesting thing about being around West, one never did really know his motives. He was a complete and utter enigma. At any second he was easy to figure out at the very next he was inconceivably incomprehensible.
It was something Soren was getting used to. Well, as much as he could anyways.
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Posted: Thu Jan 16, 2014 7:50 am
The demon listened closely as Soren spoke, though as a rule he acted uninterested. Really, though, the mage made him think some. He started to make him think on how West really saw him, and how he really was behind his own fragile mask. The Incubus had some ideas, and yet he couldn't possibly place a psychological profile on his human companion. He was . . . not quite an enigma, but less easy to read than others. Whatever he thought and whenever he felt, he would keep it all to himself. It was hidden, and while West could surely discover it if he dared to, he would rather do so simply with logic rather than magic. "I'm glad you can agree with me on one thing, at least. Life really is a great show, a play where the actors are wild and pretentious like the Gods who wrote us. It's the truly special people who can play multiple roles, and stand out to the audience. Everyone wants to be like them, because that's just what everyone really wants -- attention, acknowledgment. That's why they do the things they do."
From the moment he stepped out from the sea of black, through a place much like the gate of hell, he vowed to never fall for that trap. He didn't want to be anyone -- no one special or profound. He would much rather give others the attention, so that they may fall around him while he remained strong. Right now, he just wanted to be a regular guy. No one would care about him and no one would come down on him, if he didn't give them reason to. To be honest, you could say that West was afraid of something, and that was why he avoided his past. He cast aside his imperial regalia, his memories, everything. He wanted to start over, where he wouldn't be haunted by things he couldn't begin to fix. That was all he knew right now. His identity had barely even developed.
Of course, Soren was developed, and developed into quite the prude. One thing West would never question about himself was his sexual fervor. That was just a part of who he was -- it was in his blood, seared into his flesh. He was built to please, himself and others. He looked intently at the mage, and tried to vocalize this simple understanding of his. "Do you grow tired of breathing, Soren? Of eating and sleeping? They are necessary for you, but even so, they're done quite excessively, aren't they? Every day, it's the same ritual over and over. This goes on for almost a hundred years before you just die. I have my necessities as well. Like you grow hungry for food, I grow hungry for action. If that hunger isn't satiated by something else, then I will find it satiated by the bodies of men. Do you understand?" The man's strangely colored eyes narrowed, and he brought his arms back. He almost seemed offended, but really he wasn't. He would only act so, in order to keep Soren from questioning his interests again. That aspect of him really wasn't debatable.
There were other parts of him that simply couldn't be helped, that Soren took issue with. How strong he was, how unclear his motives were. These things were his appeal. Even Soren seemed to enjoy the mystique, as much as he claimed it to be unsettling. Well, Soren seemed to enjoy a lot of things that he claimed not to. That, at the same time, was what made him unique. "If I confuse you, then that's probably good. I'm doing it right." He laughed a little. That was said after a long time of simply staring quietly, but he passed the time by the silent gesture of his smile, which imposed his thoughts on other people. Silence and smiles had effects on other people -- if the one wielding them didn't say what he wanted, then they'd make their own rash assumptions on what it was. Soren probably found his own conclusion, like perhaps West just wants his body or maybe he's just playing around with him. That was a part of what made the game fun. You never knew the outcome until it was right in front of you, and by then it could evolve into something quite terrifying, or quite benign.
"I ask that you don't find yourself confused on one thing, though," he started. "I am not unhappy. I enjoy myself more than most. Just not in a way that you understand."
It was obvious that the other man wasn't accustomed to him. It'd be a long time before the two were fully capable of understanding each other -- certainly right now they weren't in motion to reach that understanding. But it would happen eventually. West did have the motive to keep him around, whether Soren could possibly believe that or not. This man, if nothing else, was to keep him grounded. To help remind him of what he used to be, and what he wanted to be. Someone who really could just sit around and talk about their philosophy, feign offense and all the while having the time of his life. This guy was the one who'd keep a life like that in the realm of possibility. And so, he was invaluable. "You aren't very simple yourself, duckbutt." He interrupted his thoughts, eyes once again traveling over the human's visage, from the world of dreams. He was handsome. Come to think of it, there were few reasons remaining as to why he hadn't bedded the man. He obviously wanted it, and West did too.
Maybe he refused himself, until the enigma was solved and he could understand the mage in full. He didn't even know where he'd go from there, though he was sure during the rush of the moment he'd forget about the future.
The Incubus glanced at the frame, as he had covertly been doing for the past few minutes. "Isis doesn't seem to be coming back. Looks like she's got better things to do," he rolled his eyes.
(duckbutt is what I call pretty much anyone with a faux hawk. ehehehe)
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Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2015 1:01 am
"Your mission, Brydent," Zachariah began, "Is to infiltrate the management of the High Moon Casino. You will be pleasant, charming, inciteful. And - when you have gained their trust, you will gather them together and kill them all. The reward for this mission will be money, but also, a share of the company. I will distribute the company's holdings for the purpose of supplying money to the military branch. Carry on."
He was pumped, although it was often preferable to be sent on a mission that dealt in blood rather than smiles. Brydent wasn't the best . . . talker. It took a lot of alcohol to give him the patience to deal with the retards of everyday life.
For the mission, he'd ended up receiving a powerful cologne that drew vampires and lycans to him. It was to make him stand out and appear desirable; it was the only way to get noticed in Nocturne's night scene.
- - -
"Bleeding today, aren't you, William?" The young gambler asked, his eyes focused on an older and more experienced player. They were at a game of poker, itching to see whether the young heir to the oil factories was worth as much to Lady Luck as the experienced lawman. Of course, with important matches came liars, spies and cheaters. The dealer was paid a handsome sum by both of them, though one side offered him something very special. Something that he couldn't refuse. No, you might interpret that incorrectly. It wasn't an offer so valuable that he would not dare cross it. Rather, his hands and lips were tied; his mind was being aimed in the direction of whatever Brydent pleased. He would find it pleasing if the young oil tycoon were to win. Of course, it was becoming quite displeasing for the older and more experienced player. His bankroll only grew and grew, as his pride suffered at the hands of his constant defeat. He was losing hundreds of thousands at this point, to hope to prove something to this rival of his.
"Aha! Straight flush!" The man happily proclaimed, with William slamming his fists against the table. He was completely devastated by that play, more and more of his funds disappearing. And yet he couldn't stop playing. When he looked up and saw Brydent, he felt like the man was trying to tell him something. Keep going, his eyes spoke to him. You will win. And so he did. And so, even after his losses hit the seventh digit, he continued to play. And eventually, he was completely bankrupt. Only then did he give up. He gave the watcher, Brydent, an angry look as he stormed away. He would probably cry himself to sleep, tonight. And yet it was his problem, and his alone. "I think I made more money tonight than in my whole life," The young werewolf stated, interrupting the Alpha's thoughts. His name was Gregor, and he was Brydent's game at the moment. One that he'd continue to play, and play well, for a long time to come.
The Alpha was wearing fine clothing, a black tuxedo with red and white filling all the rest. He had a golden bowtie, which was handed out once every week by the casino by a lucky draw. For the next week, the wearer of the tie was the "lucky charm" of all the rest in the club, and they'd vie to turn them into some sort of groupie. Brydent had won that privilege this week, and the first person to come see him was the person he chose to support. It only took a single, mutual glance between the two, and Brydent was completely adamant. "I think you've made more money today than I could even make in ten lifetimes," He said modestly. He already knew that modesty was something Gregor enjoyed, and that knowledge only took a glance. Brydent always knew what everyone wanted. That was why he was so . . . sought after. "I can't imagine why he kept going after you proved yourself the better player. You smart, classy folk can get pretty dumb when pushed."
"I don't know either, honestly. It hurt him too much to lose to me, I guess. He was friends with my dad since before I was born, and he wanted my dad to leave the oil company to him. Of course, he wouldn't do that, 'cause I'm his son. The guy's been ragging on me ever since I got the inheritance. He's really . . . persistent." Gregor was still baffled, so he could understand why he made such a faulty conclusion. Brydent honestly hoped he would've noticed by now, that the man he was dealing with wasn't normal. Werewolves could see energy, right? And they could sense each other. All he had to do was just look. Look, he wanted to command him. But then the enjoyment would be lost. "Whatever the reason, I blame you. You really are a lucky charm, aren't you?" The brown haired man grinned, and came closer to Brydent. He could smell something coming off from him, and so much of it. The closer he went, the stronger the scent, which brought him enjoyment and twisted up his rationale. This guy, to him, was seduction incarnate.
The werewolf drew closer, and sniffed at his neck. He enjoyed the smell, a massive smile coming across his face. Brydent showed nothing on his face, only the faintest smile and a narrowing of his eyes. "I've been told that I have my uses. Though helping widen the gap between rich and poor wasn't one of them, until today." He rolled his eyes. It was something he did because he felt that the werewolf wanted him to. A skilled Lycan could sense such things in even a momentary quiver. Brydent could act on desires of an instant prior, helping to build the bridge between familiarity and late night enjoyment. Though one could question his motive for all of this work, for exhibiting his talents, for choosing this werewolf. For acting the way he did. They'd have to come find out later.
"I didn't even realize someone so talented could exist, until today." The young man further complimented him, though in truth he took it in contempt. He could feel it; it was all just for one thing, his body beneath his, late at night and beneath the covers. Many of the people who spoke to him only desired that one thing, though he could understand. Often times, he felt his own pleasantries collide with his lust. It was a natural thing, especially for the men of this city. Their entire lives, they were immersed in this idea of freedom of sexuality. And yet, they would find themselves bedding whores and con artists more than classy, noble folk. None of them trusted anyone but the bottom bracket, those with no dream beyond their alcohol and cocaine. Brydent was an outsider, though, from a city that touched sun and moon; Gloria en Valle. And that was why he fit so perfectly into the desires of the aristocracy.
And on the subject of the aristocrats, a young lady came to see them. She wore a diamond necklace and a dress embroidered with emeralds. Her hair was black and flowing, and her eyes were a dark silver. Her skin was a strangely pale shade, fit for a diabolus. Another point in the score of his rationale; all of the rich and powerful here, were either demons, the undead, or something in-between. They must've all been quite horrible of people, though the cunning and the danger was what brought him such enjoyment. "William's... mad," she said. Her eyes were relaxed, her posture unimposing. From what Brydent gathered, that meant she was one of those fabled amoral vixens that the Lumirian crowd loved to empower. "He thinks you cheated. Bribed the dealer or cast a spell or something. He's threatening to take it to the casino management."
The red-eyed man didn't know what that implied, but the werewolf obviously did. For a moment, his heart dropped. He regained his composure to try and seem unshaken, but that could only work when those around you had no sixth sense. That was enough information for him, honestly. Obviously these management guys must've been pretty scary, which meant that Gregor might've been in danger now. That would at least get pretty spicy. "The management only cares about extorting people out of money. He has no money to give them anymore, so he's over with." Brydent wasn't so sure that was true, because there was hesitation in his words. This girl obviously knew better, as she gave him a completely dumbfounded look. "Are you an idiot, Greg? Okay, let me get started on all the reasons why management would have a stake in this. First of all, he could always pay later after they loot your corpse for the chips. Second, he's practically Chaya's ********, so obviously he has a way to weed into that circle. Third, the guy's a complete goldmine for them. He always gets himself into this kind of s**t, and pays them off big bucks to get him his fortune back. I mean, he's never screwed himself this badly, but pretty damn close a few times."
Her carefree attitude suddenly dissipated. She had a temper, or perhaps an attraction for the misguided words of others. She wanted, so badly, to gain the upperhand on Greg. To show her dominance, by proving him wrong. And so there came the obligatory second half of her personality: the angry correctional officer. He knew exactly of her type. How he knew wasn't a certainty, but he did know.
The demon took a moment, trying to see how she'd play her game. He wasn't sure yet whether she was actually concerned for Greg, or whether she was bluffing and trying to sneak out a deal to save William's a**. It seemed like she could be wholly capable of either. "If I can slip in a comment--" He started, but was interrupted. "No, you can't. Just because you won the bowtie, doesn't mean you're suddenly some fount of knowledge. ******** off, rookie." He sighed, and looked away, avoiding her angry eyes. Greg gave her an insulted look, and opened his lips to speak. "I'm sorry Lilith, but what the hell is wrong with you tonight?" Brydent laughed. Her name was Lilith. "This guy's been nothing but supportive to me the entire week. And you're the one who approached me, interrupting my conversation with him. You're the rookie as far as I'm concerned. So ******** off. I'll deal with William on my own." With those heated words, she split. Gregor, feeling gallant (though in a man's man sort of way), brought his arm around the Fairhair's back and sighed. "I'm sorry, Brydent. You didn't deserve all of that profanity and nonsense just now. Lilith is just low class once she opens her mouth. And I might've actually gotten myself into a really bad situation here."
He admitted it, slowly and with discrepancy in his voice. This situation was highly precarious, and he had no idea how to get out of it. He supposed the best way was to promise the management more money than William promised them, and hope they don't screw him over. Chaya would be a problem, for sure, as she valued attention from men more than jewels and silk. The rest, they were of simple intentions. What mattered was the influence of each individual member, which he really didn't know. William probably knew. That was a massive upper-hand, already. Brydent understood this as well, and discreetly massaged Gregor's back to bring him comfort, as a confidant often would when their voice grew pale with words of condolence. "It's alright, what she said," he started. "I don't really know anything about anything. I don't know about the management, or William, or you. I barely even know poker terms, let alone how to play. This is your life, Gregor. It's not my life. I shouldn't act like I'm someone here." He shrugged. The orange-eyed man brought Gregor over to a sofa, one that sat against the wall in the large plaza. This place was so glamorous, some parts even more than others. He would not like for this lifestyle to end so quickly.
"You shouldn't be worrying about me, right now. Worry about you." Those were his words of advice. He was not often spoken, simply because he didn't want to ruin the mystique. When he did speak, he tried to say something of import. In this situation, though, there was a lot of import. He could hardly cover it all in just a few sentences. "Don't trust Lilith. She wouldn't even bother to stick her head into this situation unless she wanted something from it. She was obviously consorting with William, or she wouldn't even know the situation. And she tried to present the image of caring for your safety, but quickly gave up when it became apparent that you weren't going to budge. She's after something. Could be that she's sort of a spy for the management, trying to find the best and most profitable solution for them between all of the squabbles. Right now, though, you made it pretty clear that you're not intimidated, which makes you far from profitable. I feel like that's my fault." When he was done speaking, he looked down at his lap. His two hands were clasped together, with a washable gold star tattoo on his wrist. It was a joke that some old guy wanted to make, to decorate the lucky charm.
He must've seemed far from lucky, what with getting his friend into a lethal red. And yet, Gregor only found his knowledge immensely helpful. "If I come out of this, do you want to work for me at my firm? You seem really smart, and worldly. You're not just some spoiled richy who only gets the job because their father has stakes and arrangements. I think you'd bring a lot to the table." And of course, he had to try and recruit him. Strange, considering he was probably going to get his head lopped off in the next few hours. But he supposed he truly was naive to the danger of influential men and women with lots of money and lots of guns. "I'm not fit to ruin my clothes with oil and tar. And I'm hardly patient enough to sit around writing reports and micro-managing employees." He was honest on that one. Brydent was a military man and he didn't enjoy office work. Gregor got that. If he wasn't tied by family obligation, he'd probably be far away from here, not working a day in his life. Just smiling, laughing, reading, writing and spreading some legs.
Of course, he was no more free than any of the people here. They all had too much to lose to ever sit still. They would work until their dying breath.
"Then... how about just hanging around with me? Not as a groupie. I mean, like, we could try dating -- you know? That sort of thing. I really like you, Brydent. You're so much more interesting than all of these old duds." That came out awkwardly, and probably too soon. But he wanted to ask, if only to use this whole "I'm about to die" situation to his favor. A man couldn't deny another's dying request, could he? "I'm not patient enough to cook your meals, either." He rolled his eyes, and so did Gregor. Apparently he could deny his dying request, and without much thought to it. "We're at least set for tonight, right?" He asked. The Alpha laughed a little, and looked him dead in the eyes. "Make it that far, and you'll receive an experience only meant for heroes." Brydent was pretty clear, as he had been for this whole time. Gregor smirked, and acknowledged that somehow he had a reason to go on, starting here. He could at least look forward and see blue skies, rather than Makath, trying to pull him into the darkness.
"Gregor." They were both interrupted, a tall woman standing over them. She looked at him sternly, her arms crossed. Her dress was red, though unlike the other ladies, she didn't bother herself with heels and all that. She must've acknowledged their impediment to her mobility, and from the looks of it, she was a fighter at heart. Chaya, he told himself. From everything he'd heard, this must've been the one. "Give the money back to William, and none of this will have to go through. You have the choice to work things out in a non-violent way. I don't know how you managed to obtain all of his money, but you and I both know it wasn't done legally and by fair sport. So let that entire event brush aside, and protect your own safety." She was commanding, this woman. The Alpha felt a certain fear in her, though. She must've been going against the management's wishes, making this deal on her own. That must've meant that she was only of moderate influence in the group -- not afraid to work independently, but not secure enough to be exempt from independent work. That meant that she was unimportant, an unreliable wall for William to fall back on.
Brydent would settle this matter right here. "Nice to meet you, Chaya." The tall man called her name, a smile on his face. She looked at him angrily, and rebutted similarly to how Lilith did. "Excuse me, but this has nothing to do with you, so please back the hell off."
She seemed so angry, it bothered him. It was hard to tell if her and Lilith were truly angry, or just paranoid and afraid. It was hard to tell if they were really so clever, or just dogs of those who had stronger ties to this place. Gregor was truly not so wise, either, and if Brydent wasn't here, he'd probably already be dead. Luckily, though, he had someone with him who was a master of a game more important than poker. Brydent was a master of people, the human mind, the human desire. He knew fear, and weakness, and need. He saw these three things present in Chaya, who was thinking with her heart, rather than her head. He knew the impulse, though was above it in many spectrums. Normally, Brydent wouldn't be able to do anything about this. But Zachariah had gifted him with a particular weapon . . . the one-time ability to sway someone's mind. The woman would feel no such high ground, as her mind would be dwindled in sharpness by Brydent's allure. The demon's dance was like a long cloth, spinning around and around until the ones around it were eclipsed by the will of another. Brydent could enforce on her whatever he desired.
"I will intervene," he said. "And I'll make it a point to not do so needlessly." The Lycan rose up, and stared at her, eye-to-eye. Her brown eyes met his orange, and her desolate grimace met his radiant grin. This battle had already been won. "You don't like William anymore, I can tell," he informed her. This was not her own will, but rather his words becoming her reality. Because he desired it, her relations with William were no more. "Instead, you like me. I can understand. I'm quite the bachelor, and you're only getting older. Your window of opportunity to get a guy like me is getting smaller, and is starting to cost a lot more money than it would used to. It's alright, though. I don't want money. I only ask a favor from my prospective hag." His head drew near her ears, and he whispered silently. "I want you to tell the management the truth. In confidence, William told you something quite intricate. Very horrific. He said," his breath ghosted over her skin, "He wants to take over management. He wants to manipulate a financial situation regarding Gregor, to monopolize the market of Luimira. And that he asked you, his beloved Lady, to use this money to buy off the movers and hired guns to kill off the higher-ups. Can you tell them that for me? I'd like to protect them."
She nodded, and said nothing. She walked away, towards wherever the hell. He didn't care. He didn't care if she got a bullet unloaded into her skull, at this point. Brydent had already won the second he entered this casino. All of these people and their problems were like little wooden toys to him. They were too weak to pose a threat, let alone endure his will. "You used magic on her, didn't you? I've never seen her bend like that. She literally just... completely broke." Gregor asked, staring strangely at the demon. He didn't look back at him, he just laughed. "It's a gift from God." He grinned. "You don't have to worry about the method in which I do this," he said. "Only know that you're getting out of this alive, because of me. And I expect payment for my service."
"So that's what this is, then? You want money?" He asked. The man scoffed, as if he expected it all along, or were baffled to hear it. In truth, though, he felt quite heartbroken. Brydent knew. "Money is for men who want to rule whores and proclaim false power. I don't need money, because I can make whores out of anyone, and my power is far from false." He drew closer to the man, and whispered in his ear too. Though he was a lot more familiar this time, their bodies practically intertwining. "I'm not the type who really wants much of anything out of what I do. Payment? All I expect is for you to go extra deep on me, tonight." He laughed demonically, and pulled his head away. The werewolf's eyes stared into his, unsure on what was even going on anymore. It didn't feel like reality, this night. "Welcome to the real one-percent, Gregor."
- - -
In the less experienced werewolf, he had gained a valuable ally. However, Brydent's work here was not yet finished. He did manage to get Chaya and William basically bent over and screwed, and to get the Council's attention focused primarily on William, but he needed at least a few more favors before he could find himself at the center of the circle. Gathering them all into one place was certainly difficult considering their lack of trust for each other and especially outsiders. They knew that in Nocturne, death meant the forfeiting of a business, so such prestigious business-owners tended to remain far out of reach so as to not become a target. So, how would Brydent convince them to serve his needs?
WIP.
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Posted: Fri Jun 12, 2015 1:37 pm
  ☰ The chime of gambling machines seemed to echo through the casino, followed by a chorus of mixed voices. People furiously debating their winnings, and those laughing out of sheer glee within such a high-energy environment. However, although Evaline's intentions were a mystery, they were definitely not those of simply 'having fun' like those of others. Her true intentions, were such a thing that she kept guarded to herself. The act of secrecy and nonchalance of her own true nature, was something that Evaline had always embraced.
There soon came the soft clink of heels as a female made her way through the doors of the casino, stepping across the marble foyer in a strut that was as fluid as it was poised. Her movements were almost cat-like with a strange sense of elegance, as she paused to adjust the hold of her purse in one delicate hand. The oceanic blue hues of her eyes danced under the casino lights, reflecting the vibrancy of their colors. However, within her gaze there was also a certain regal look of thought. Evaline was considering the setting to herself, though at the same time it was also a certain place that was familiar to her. "Ah...I haven't been here in so long..." The female spoke her thoughts aloud. Her soprano voice was smooth as it escaped her lips, though it also held the overtone of a soft purr. A faint curve of the smallest smile briefly danced across the elegant features of her porcelain face.
It was then that Evaline stepped forwards, beginning to weave her way through the crowd. However, this did not last for long, as soon they noticed her presence and stepped aside to let her pass. Evaline could feel the lustful stares of various men in the casino as she passed them by, followed by heated remarks made by their spouses that were directed towards this one action. A quiet laugh escaped Evaline's rose-hued lips. Although this was something she'd grown accustomed to through the years, it never ceased to amuse her.
Her icy gaze swept across the the casino, searching. Ah, there it is, she thought to herself after spotting her destination. It was the table intended for what was otherwise known as high rollers. Once Evaline reached the table, she paused for a moment, to temporarily analyze all who were there. It went without saying that each of these men were wealthy. And judging by their drunken laughter, it seemed that they had no regard for their actions. And that usually meant greed and entitlement. Although Evaline was basing this off her own opinion, she knew that it came with a certain level of truth to it.
Though she did not speak yet, she drew a leather brief case out from her purse and placed it on the table. With the quick flick of her hand, Evaline opened the latch on it, revealing all the various bills and coins that were stashed inside. But it was not the money that the men were staring at. With the alluring scent of vanilla and roses that seemed to emulate softly from her smooth porcelain skin, she knew just how tempting she was. This was one of the natural traits of a succubus. Evaline's feminine figure adorned a shimmering black dress that glided along her curves and dipped just enough over her shoulders to reveal the curve of her back. The soft petals of her lips curved to hold a smirk as she sat down at the table, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm starting to grow tired of waiting. Let the game begin." Evaline said in her smooth soprano voice, as she placed a handful of money into the center of the table and drew several cards.
Soon enough, several rounds of the game had passed. The game proved to show that the money was no longer the main focus of the men, but rather, it was her. Evaline knew that she was the true prize, but being objectified had never been her forte, even if she was a succubus. The elegant line of her eyebrow arched slightly, the elegant features of her face holding an almost devious look. Not that the men noticed this, of course. Evaline knew that they'd probably find such a facial expression from her as sultry rather than devious. "Oh... Well look at that, it seems you have all let yourselves become distracted. And now I have most of the money." Evaline said, hoping to entice some sort of reaction from them. They continued to stare at her with lustful eyes, though said nothing of this matter. Evaline let out a soft sigh, clearly not impressed at how easily they had been overcome.
It was then that underneath the table she felt a hand resting against her thigh. This was something that Evaline hadn't been expecting, but it was also something that annoyed her. Her annoyance soon shifted into restrained anger, and that anger was now evolving into darker thoughts. It's been so long... So long since I have killed. The thought passed through Evaline's mind in a way that could be described as longing. It also put her at a mental battle against herself--- The succubi instincts within her wanting nothing more than this man's blood, but the more 'humane' part of her soul wanting to spare him and leave right away with the money. It was something that caused her to take a moment of consideration, but as the depths of her ice blue eyes grew darker to hold a more sultry look, it became apparent which part of her soul was winning.
Instead of pushing his hand away, Evaline leaned in closer to whisper into his ear. In the same instant, she released her soft golden hair from the bun that it had once been in, causing it to tumble back over her shoulders in a cascade of curls. "My dear... You may have lost the game, but you won me." Evaline whispered into his ear. Only the mind of one with such greedy desires would be so easy to manipulate, and she knew that's why her alluring charms were taking their effect so strongly. Evaline also knew that the man would be unable to fight against his own senses at this point, even if he tried. With a smirk on her lips, she collected her winnings and held his hand, beginning to lead him away from the gambling table. "Let's go somewhere more... Private."
They made their way through the casino until Evaline was able to catch sight of an unused door, that eventually lead into one of the silent alleyways alongside the building. "Ah... What do you say, my dear? Don't you think this place is just perfect? It's so quiet, exactly what I'd had in mind..." It seemed that he was rendered speechless by her actions, though he nodded in response and encircled his arms around her waist, with one hand sliding up along the soft skin of her leg. The look in Evaline's icy eyes turned darker. As she began to kiss the side of his neck, Evaline could feel him shuddering in pure pleasure. It was then that she pressed her lips to his ear and whispered to him in a devious purr of a voice. "You know... I hate those who are filled with greed, ignorance, and entitlement. And something tells me that you possess all three of those traits. I know your type very well." Evaline remained still as he continued to feel his way along her tight dress.
Soon enough, Evaline was growing tired of these actions from him, and she could feel her succubi instincts beginning to take over. An alluring aura the color of roses seemed to reflect off her skin in a shimmering glow. Her fingernails grew sharper into claws, and the black form of two demonic wings soon emerged form her back. With the man now under the full control of her seduction, Evaline began to tear through his clothes. Her soft kisses against his neck soon turned to bites, enough to graze the skin. He held her body closer to his, and as he did so, Evaline snaked one hand around his torso. It was then that she dug her claws in through the soft skin of his back, enough to feel the warmth of his blood around her fingers. A look of fear suddenly jolted in his eyes, and just as he opened his mouth about to let out a scream, Evaline silenced him with a kiss. It was already too late. She moved her claws in a deep upwards motion, along his entire spine. She continued to kiss him, until she could feel his breathing and his pulse slowing with all the blood that he lost. Once Evaline knew that he was dead, she released him and allowed his body to fall to the ground. A soft purr of laughter escaped her lips.
The devious look in her eyes soon faded, as did her claws and her wings. Despite the fact that she tried to go without killing for as long as she could, this was something that proved to be almost impossible to control. Evaline gazed down at herself. Though her shimmering dress was partially soaked in his blood, the black color of it was enough to mask that. However, the left arm of hers that had created the wound on his back in the first place, was completely stained in it. Evaline took the time to quickly wash it all off before heading back into the casino. Her demonic instincts had been fulfilled, but there was no telling when they would strike again.
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