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 Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2014 7:39 pm
 It's A Dirty Free-For-All
Once she was sure that she wasn't likely to get caught - or at least, not likely to get caught as Erythrite, because that would be a dozen different kinds of awful she didn't even want to touch with a thousand-foot pole, she got together a first aid kit and started cleaning and bandaging her injuries. God knew what those youma had on their teeth or claws, and she was probably lucky she wasn't dead from some bizarre poison right now.
It was slow, clumsy work, which meant she had lots and lots of time to think, and to seethe.
What the ******** was wrong with that General? Bischofite, his name had been, if she remembered correctly. He brought together a gathering of mostly low-level officers, promising a chance to learn about youma and the rift, and instead it had become absolute madness. How many had died, she wondered?
Had any of those other Lieutenants been less lucky than she, and gotten attacked by a youma who did have a deadly bite? God, she hoped not - but she also hoped that every single death was laid firmly at that damned General's feet, because they were all, every one, his fault. Every life cut short for his sick amusement, or his sick idea of "training," or whatever the ******** it was...
She discovered her hands were shaking with rage, and she took a long, slow breath. That wasn't going to help anything, when she was trying to do the precise handiwork of putting herself back together after the fight.
She exhaled. There was no way she was going to avoid having to talk to Serenity about this, no matter what happened, which meant she would need a creative lie - a mugger, perhaps, though that wouldn't explain the distinct bite marks on her arm.
Oh well, perhaps it would simply be a good idea to say she didn't want to talk about it. Or...blame an animal attack, an angry dog. She didn't want to report it because she didn't want someone's beloved pet put down. Yes, that was it. That was an acceptable lie. Sentimentality and such should do the rest to cover for her.
Delilah sighed. God, this would be easier if she had a second pair of hands - but oh well, she would simply have to keep going on her own until Serenity got home, and then it would be time to ask for help.
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Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2014 9:15 pm
About To Blow Delilah paced back and forth in the hallway outside her girlfriend's hospital room, teeth gritted. She had a very, very bad feeling about the injuries she'd found the other girl sporting - they looked too much like the kind that would come from something with a blade, something that an officer might do.
She had no proof, of course, nothing but suspicions - and why would an officer attack a civilian that way? She should probably just discard that whole train of thought, really, because unless it was a very strange officer, they would not have likely left Serenity alive. Instead, she would be either drained unconscious or a starseedless husk.
It was a strange world she lived in when "my girlfriend's soul wasn't extracted from her chest and she was just beaten on and cut up" was actually comforting. But the very idea of discovering that someone she...worked with, as it were, might have been the one to hurt Serenity made a very unique sort of rage bubble up in her heart.
She wanted so badly to find whoever had done this.
It had to be a who, and she wasn't sure why Serenity hadn't just admitted that - but maybe she was scared, and probably with reason. Whoever could attack a teenaged girl like that had to be some kind of twisted, ******** monster. The worst kind of thing that went bump in the night, because this thing was completely and totally human.
Someone who could do that was not someone she wanted to cross.
Well -- that wasn't entirely accurate. Delilah wouldn't want to cross that person. But Erythrite?
Erythrite, Negaverse Lieutenant and destroyer of sleaze and gross assholes in every bar in Destiny City, would happily find whoever had hurt her Serenity and pound them into the pavement. And then probably take their starseed - or starseeds, god she hoped there was more than one, beating the s**t out of all of them would be a delight - and make them into lovely little trophies. A necklace. Or a bracelet. (Or a snack, really, she wasn't picky.)
It soothed her rage a little to think on revenge, and the longer she pondered that, the calmer she felt, ironically enough.
It helped to know that Serenity was receiving the best care possible, and had every chance in the world of coming out of this scarred, but okay.
And the scars - well, the scars were the least of Delilah's concerns. She had a few of her own, these days, and really, all they meant was that Serenity had survived. That she'd been in that fight, or whatever it was, and she'd come out the other end alive.
That was all Delilah could ask for.
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Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2014 6:52 pm
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Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2014 11:37 am
Tainted Love
Erythrite gets into a fight with a White Moon Senshi, and learns exactly how Serenity has been getting all her injuries.
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2014 7:17 pm
You're Toxic
Erythrite hand-delivers her girlfriend for corruption.
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Posted: Mon Oct 13, 2014 8:53 pm
Reflect
Erythrite meets a youma in the Rift.
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Posted: Tue Oct 28, 2014 10:12 am
Crazy Beautiful Life Finding things of beauty was more difficult than it sounded on the face.
What, Erythrite had wondered, would a youma consider beautiful?
But when she had stopped thinking what would a youma consider beautiful, and started thinking what would Peisithoe consider beautiful, based on her limited interaction with the woman, it became far, far easier.
She had expressed an interest in the liveliness of the world above, and so as Delilah, Erythrite visited a flower shop and selected a few multicolored roses - red, pink, yellow, blue, white - and took them home. It was more expensive than she would have liked, especially when she bought the supplies to press them, but she was fairly certain it would be worth it. Besides, she was making fairly good money at an upscale lingerie boutique and she could afford to cut her clothes budget a little for this.
She had never pressed flowers before, and the “traditional” method of drying them in a book didn’t appeal to her. So she had instead carefully ironed them, practicing on cheaper, park-icked flowers before she finally, delicately pressed out the roses. Once they were dried out, she framed them, a careful presentation and preservation of their colorful blooms.
That was the first of the three.
Her second beautiful thing was battered on the outside, but on the inside was its true value.
She shifted through her shelf, fingers running from title to title, until she found an old, battered book of Tennyson’s poetry. The binding was leather, and gracefully done, and even in its worn state, the words inside were still readable - and they were the beauty she wished to evoke here.
She hoped Peisithoe liked poetry.
The third once again necessitated digging into her clothes budget - she purchased a small mp3 player and battery-operated speakers (because she was not entirely sure the youma had ears) as well as plenty of extra batteries.
And then she filled it with the most beautiful music she could think of - lyrical and instrumental, classical and modern, because she had caught the musical lilt in the youma’s voice and suspected that if she enjoyed anything, music would be it. She had realized, once she was away from her, that Peisithoe reminded her of nothing so much as a siren - and as it turned out, she shared a name with one, and so she hoped to give her a few more notes for her song.
All small things, but she hoped they would serve their purpose - to give Peisithoe a piece of the world she so desired to see. And maybe to brighten her lonely days in the Rift, just a little. If it pleased her, and it got Erythrite the mirror, this would all be worth it.
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Posted: Thu Oct 30, 2014 8:00 am
Formal Presentation
Erythrite delivers what Peisithoe asked for. The youma has one more request before she'll hand over the mirror.
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Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2014 11:15 pm
Hey, Brother Alex had texted Lila to meet him powered up, because he figured that they had the least chance of being overheard by someone who could get hurt by this if they were tucked in a back alley, as Kerberos and Erythrite instead of Alex and Delilah Masters.
It had felt like a perfect plan when he’d gone into it, and darn it, he insisted it still was, even as he waited for her, pacing back and forth in a panic. He only stopped when he finally felt a Captain aura coming in quickly, and let out a breath when his sister came into view, in her full uniform.
“Alex -” She began, and then corrected herself to to “Kerberos,” when he shot her a brief glare. “What did you want to talk to me about?” She sounded nervous, which he supposed only made sense because he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with all the details.
“I want to talk about Cait,” he said, and he watched her face fall. “I, uhm, I’ve been...talking to this Knight. Hvergelmir.” He swallowed. This was his sister, right? He could tell her the truth, if he could tell anyone.
Erythrite felt her heart start racing. She knew what Gabriel had told her - that Persephone, Clarisse, Cait, whatever she was now didn’t want Alex to know who she really was. And she couldn’t be the one to crack and tell him, not now, not tonight - not even if whatever grief he was wrestling with was sending him towards talking to a Knight, to the enemy.
“What does she have to do with Cait?” She asked, biting the inside of her cheek as she waited for an answer. God, this was terrifying.
“I mean, I…” Kerberos stumbled over his words. How did he even explain this? “She’s a really good listener,” he said, softly. “And I told her about Mom and Dad. How they’re...you know, stuck. Because they can’t let go of her. And she...she said maybe I should tell them the truth. As Kerberos, not as Alex, and I wanted...to know...what you thought of that.”
Erythrite felt her heart drop into her chest. ’Oh, God,’ she thought, ’he thinks she’s dead. Who the hell decided to tell him that she’s dead?’ That was the worst lie any of them could have told, and she still didn’t understand why no one was telling him the truth.
But then...he wasn’t entirely wrong. Clarisse remembered nothing of being Caitlyn. She looked like her, acted like her sometimes, but she was definitely not Cait anymore. It was why Erythrite barely spoke to her. So maybe...maybe it was for the est that Alex thought she was dead, and wasn’t being disappointed every time Clarisse looked at him and didn’t remember who he was.
But telling their parents…
That was a whole different matter.
“I...don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, her voice quiet. “How would we tell them? How would we convince them?”
“I don’t know,” Kerberos said, a little more heatedly than he wanted to. He stopped, for a moment, reaching to actively squish down his temper because snapping at Lila wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed her to understand, not to argue with him. “You know how they are. They can’t move on, they’re just...just waiting for her to come home. Maybe if we could convince them somehow - I mean, if we told them about the war? Not who we are, but that it exists, and that’s what happened to Cait?” He was practically pleading with her. He needed her to get it, he needed someone else on his side. The idea of continuing to let his parents wallow in grief over his missing sister was just...horrible. “They’re hoping so hard they can’t move on with their lives.”
“Who said hope was a bad thing?” Erythrite argued. “They need it - for all you know, knowing the truth would crush them!” It seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to worry about to her. Grief could be just as nasty and paralyzing as hope, and what if instead of an endless cycle of praying for her to get home, all they did was grieve? “What if they decide to leave the city? What would you do then?”
“Maybe that would be for the best!” Kerberos said. “I mean, three of us already have this...this magic thing. You, Cait, me. What if Thalia and Beka have it too, and they get caught up in this war just like we did? What if one of them dies next?” His voice broke, pain lacing it. “They should leave. It’d be...it’d be safer. Neither of us has to go, you’re living with Anna and I’m with Luka...it’s the best plan.”
Erythrite walked over and pulled her little brother into a hug, holding him close. Rather than answer, she just stroked his hair, and felt him start to sob brokenly in her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder, body shaking, and she carefully, calmingly, carded her fingers through the long mess of hair that his corrupt form gave him.
“Oh, Alex,” she said softly, and this time, he didn’t correct her, “I know you mean well, but we can’t. You know we can’t. The Negaverse is everywhere - if they go somewhere else and they know too much, they’ll be killed. They have to stay ignorant, and they have to stay here.”
It made sense, he supposed, and he didn’t really want to argue with her. So he sagged and nodded.
“Alright,” he said, softly. “Alright, I’ll let it go. I...you’re right. It’s not safe. We...we won’t tell them.”
“Not yet,” he wanted to say, but what he really supposed he meant even if he had said that was “not ever.” Because Lila was right - it would just end up putting them in more danger.
Losing one sister to this war was plenty for him.
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Posted: Mon Oct 04, 2021 3:22 pm
the best is yet to come
[WC: 1030 words] It had been several months since that serendipitous, wonderful, lucky night when Erythrite had stumbled upon Ganymede and Valhalla and had become Folkvangr.
Several months filled with wild, wonderful changes; filled with the knowledge that the Negaverse would never again be able to touch her. That she had finally escaped their grip, and she would be able to go forth and be free. No one was going to breathe down her neck and demand that she hurt innocent people to profit monsters who lurked in the dark. No one was going to insist that she pretend to be invested in vile goals that made her sick. No one was going to ask her to use her abilities, her assets, her anything to do something she didn't want to do. That was what freedom meant to her; it meant the ability to get away from the Negaverse and never once look back. To flee the nightmare that she'd found herself trapped in, for so many years, and to finally breathe again.
There were people she wondered and worried about, of course. Machholz often floated in her thoughts; she'd adored her Senshi, once, but things had...changed, so terribly, after Mach had corrupted. She'd thought she was making the better cohice, bringing her to Leto and the Dark Mirror instead of to a General-Sovereign, but she'd clearly been wrong.
There was no better choice. She had learned that on the back of breaking someone she loved, and Folkvangr intended to never forget the lesson. Machholz wouldn't have the chance to, after all.
Moreover, though, she had so many choices in front of her it was absolutely staggering. There was just so much she could potentially do; so much to see; so much to rediscover. Most of her life was a blank, after all; she remembered her time as Erythrite, but there were so many holes, and so many things to relearn. What did she enjoy? What made her happy? What brought her sorrow and what made her angry? Re-meeting herself, rediscovering all the pieces, had been a fascinating process. That, and learning some new things. She loved spicy food and greasy hamburgers and strawberry milkshakes. Shopping for pretty clothes made her feel like she was doing something for herself and not for anyone else. She liked clubs--she remembered that she used to enjoy draining in them--and she liked being there without any expectations. she liked it when people thought she was hot. She liked going home with a stranger every once in a while--a pretty boy or girl that caught her eye at the bar.
She liked fun. She liked joy, and laughter, and loud music, and good food, and fun people. She liked working out; her days now started with waking early for a jog, because it made her feel refreshed and ready to take on the day. She liekd ot go to the gym; her kickboxing skills seemed to draw eyes and attention, and that made her feel more than a little smug.
Certainly, she wasn't who she was before. Elodie Gallo was a person distinct from the woman that had existed when Erythrite was still bound to the Negaverse, and not just because Folkvangr could remember nothing about who that girl had been. Because she ha,d in many ways, been changed fundamentally by escaping from that particular prison. She was no longer the same lost, frightened, miserable girl who had felt crushed under the weight of Chaos's expectations. She wasn't even the girl who had followed a mysterious stranger out to the back of a bar and accepted his offer of power.
(She wondered about Ilmenite often. He had disappeared years and years before she had even considered purifying, but she couldn't help but worry. Had he been reassigned somewhere? Had something terrible happened? No news ever reached her, or if it had, she no longer remembered. Tragic.)
She was definitely not the same person who had once worked with Cinnabar to hunt traitors, so enamored was she of the Negaverse's structure and so loyal was she to its leadership.
(Cinnabar, too, was gone. Erythrite remembered rumors--whispers--that she might have purified, but she couldn't be certain. No one seemed to have any concrete information. She hoped it was true. She hoped they might perhaps find each other again.)
She wondered, sometimes, what had made her so determined, because that loyalty was long lost. She wondered too what had shattered it--Kerberos's defection? She remembered he was her brother, at least, even if she remembered nothing else of the life they'd had.
Or was it even earlier? Was it Persephone's corruption, the thing that had all but killed another sibling? Because she remembered, too, that Persephone was her sister, with all the other broken blanks, and she had been lost because she chose to corrupt rather than continue to feel weak. And then she had left the Negaverse, too.
Was it Thalia? Hayley? The disappearances and transformations of everyone she had ever loved, scattered and spread across the city, some by choice, some perhaps not? It was hard to pinpoint one experience that had broken her. There had been so many little things, so many slices and cuts and smaller pains, and Erythrite eventually simply could not continue.
And she hadn't.
And she was free, and surely, that was what mattered? It had to be what mattered.
She didn't have any doubts that she'd made the right choice, truth be told. She knew, in fact, with a certainty in her core, that she must have. There was no world in which she could continue to serve the Negaverse, and so she did not.
She was better for this, anyway.
And the best part was, the entire world was open to her.
Freedom was a wonderful, magical thing.
She intended to treasure it with every part of her being, for as long as she had it, no matter what was thrown in front of her or demanded of her. She had a new life, a new family, with Ganymede and Valhalla and the Gallos, and she was going to make the most of it. Now, and for the rest of her new life.
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Posted: Tue Oct 12, 2021 5:03 pm
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Posted: Thu Nov 18, 2021 12:00 am
strange art
Folkvangr meets an alien and discusses graffiti.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2021 1:58 pm
your soul is changing
Folkvangr finds Cinnabar again--except she's Tanais, and she kisses like fire, and everything is very nice.
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Posted: Wed Apr 10, 2024 2:45 pm
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