Aidyn Frost Mercenary | Red Barron's Dog | Wolf Demon
Cut you open and make you sick Suffer, suffer, suffer like I did ≠
There was one word that Aidyn could use to describe this man, and that was boring. That was what the wolf demon gathered from this short interaction when he was oh so curious if he could get the other man to break. A look of disappointment came over his face and he sighed.
“What’s got you in a hurry. You brought us here.” He said. Then his eye’s shifted from the bouncer to the red headed boy, then back again. “Nothing better happen to him.” These were words that could be easily mistaken as caring for the boy, but in truth he still viewed Nero as his prey. Whether it to make the kid into a raider or sell him off was… still questionable of course.
He completely ignored the hints of offense in the other males tone, but the demon willingly followed him out. For the time being, he wasn’t being kicked out and that was all he really wanted until he could recover some energy.
As he walked, it wasn’t difficult to notice that this new outfit was incredibly airy compared to what he was used to. Chilly even. He wasn’t a fan of that and always preferred to be on the warmer side. “So tell me big guy. Why do we need to find Jean? What’s wrong with me being a usual patron like I always am~?”
He acted as though he actively contributed to the clubs monetary gain, but in all honesty he hadn’t at all. It was all his leader and he was just there as a bodyguard more than anything, with the bonus of a few drinks. You know, not big into the whole gawking over half naked people kinda thing. The whole reason why he chose to act this way was to, well, avoid speaking to the man he wasn’t exactly well acquainted with. A man he wasn’t entirely sure was safe while he was this weak.
When the two returned to the main floor, it was surprising how easily the previous chaos had settled. Those who were meant to be in the club remained and went back to their usual business, whatever it might be. Impressive.
≠ Take the poison and lock your lips Suffer, suffer, suffer like I did
Who?: Nero, road block Mood: questionable Location: Guilty Pleasures OOC: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!
Adrenaline-Threat-Angel2
Rhine Jive Click
Posted: Wed Dec 05, 2018 8:21 pm
The slight falter in Vier's steps when the scientist exposed his looming intentions made Vol purse his lips to stop himself from laughing. He nonchalantly made his way to the top of the stairs and into the open 'grand' hall of what Vol could only describe as trash. Still, he never expected much from the people of this corrupted time so with all things considered this place wasn't too bad. Though at least this place seemed clean and organized so that got the a**l scientist's blessing.
Try it. Here. Now.
Volithious paused. Still facing the interior furniture, his eye slowly looked to the side to pin onto St.Vier. His heart pounded with growing need to take on those words and let slip his calm exterior.
White fingers fiddled with the orb as he contemplated if he should even allow this power into the hands of that provocative pillock.
Three against one- no it would likely be more if this Jean-Claude decided to summon his followers. .....No, that was not an option.
Subtly, he fondled the black ball in a particular way. If this bold creature wanted to show off their possessions then oh yes, he will give him something to look closely at.
Vol kept his eye on St.Vier as he let the orb fall from his grasp and bounce on the floor with the sound of hard glass echoing out - seemingly looking like he just dropped it - the orb danced a bit more before rolling towards Jean-Claude. The instant it had hit the floor with it's sly echo, the entire hall became sealed from anyone entering or exiting. This was simply one of it's many hidden abilities, not that he was going to share this information with the rest of the class. The orb sat lonely, baiting and waiting for someones touch it. Vol had already set it into one of it's uses; if someone touched it as it was then they would become temporarily indisposed and kiss the floor like a limp rug.
Finally breaking eye contact, he looked at Jean-Claude for a moment and smiled. Would the man be so kind as respectfully pick it up? If he got this vampire out of the way then he'd only have to pay attention to his 'friend' and his slave. Though, Volithious was confident he'd barely have to lift a finger to get the slave out of the way, god or not, the scientist had dealt with all kinds of power in his long immortal life and has harnessed it into his own. "Now then." He stood and waited to see what St.Vier would do. "Let's see what this slave of yours is worth." he wanted Vier to go fist so he could see what he was dealing with.
Jean-Claude was last up the stairs between the main floor of Guilty Pleasures and his own floor. He shut the door carefully behind him and locked it, less to keep any of them in than to keep anyone from below from accidentally wandering into something dangerous.
Pacing into the ‘ballroom,’ he immediately felt the barely-contained tension—far worse than it had been below, and much less, for lack of a better word, polite. The dog-slave was lovely as a human; he did rather prefer olive skin. Much of his lady’s court had been somewhere between tan and dark. It was a tone nearly impossible for a vampire to maintain (without near-constant injection of blood and an entirely natural disposition toward the shade) and so prized. The creature’s defensive stance was more worrisome. This had almost been so simple. Volithius could have left already, new slave in hand, with St. Vier poking at his black ball in the comfort of Jean-Claude’s chambers…
Black ball. Jean-Claude barely avoided tapping it with the front of one foot, skirting around the thing as he continued toward the center of the room, between them both. If he could, he would keep this from becoming….what it seemed to want to be. A battle, of a kind. Or, if not quite that, then something too close to one for Jean-Claude’s tastes. He was reasonably confident in his ability to protect St. Vier in his own territory, but…not quite confident enough. Not confident enough to want to engage lightly.
His skin prickled as he moved almost to St. Vier’s side, standing in front of both him and his slave and somewhat to the right. He snapped his fingers in St. Vier’s direction, calling for his attention. It was a rude gesture; rudeness was more likely to get St. Vier to look over than simply calling his name, when the man was focused, as he was now on the obviously-threatening scientist before him.
”Don’t take advantage of our friendship, St. Vier.” His voice was a lower rumble than it had been before; he didn’t like this at all. The meanings here were several: 1) he wouldn’t die for St. Vier. His assistance had its limitations; 2) St. Vier had a duty, as a friend, to consider Jean-Claude’s person and property in the actions he took in Guilty Pleasures; and 3) admittedly, it was also an expression of jealousy. Whoever this…person was to St. Vier, he had captured the slaver’s attention thoroughly, something that was difficult to do at the best of times. Jean-Claude himself, much as he thought that St. Vier (probably) enjoyed his presence and actively sought him out on occasion, had only once or twice had the entirety of St. Vier’s attention on him for a sustained period. In those encounters, it hadn’t been entirely comfortable to have all of that personality trained on him, but it had been—exhilerating.
He stepped closer, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder and leaning in slightly to whisper in his ear, ”I will intervene if it becomes obvious, but should you desire my help, you need only call my name.” With that, he stepped back, like a good referee. This was not his show, after all. Not yet.
Mood:Jealous, on guard With: St. Vier, his slave Linneus, a slave-dog,Volithious Du'Mon Teufel
”Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy”
”xXYoung_Lord_CielXx”
”Sadistic Nox”
((Rolled a die to see if Jean-Claude touched the ball or not. Lucky him, I rolled tails))
Posted: Mon Dec 10, 2018 10:19 am
••• St. × Vier
Well situated in the room, St. Vier had readied himself for Volithius to take him up on his provocation. For a moment, it seemed he might.
An odd creature, St. Vier himself was not particularly physically powerful--at least, not obviously so. Just looking at him, interacting with him outside of Haven, without any of his tools or slave around him, one might assume he was entirely human. His power came, rather, from the trained slaves he surrounded himself with at all times.
Generally this meant his Kirs; indeed, St. Vier almost never travelled without one of the hulking creatures. Indeed, one was stationed just outside Guilty Pleasures, likely drawing fearful attention from those looking to enter Guilty Pleasures after him.
He had no Kir on him now. He’d thought it would be unnecessarily threatening to bring one of the creatures into Jean-Claude’s domain, as if he were shouting in Jean-Claude’s face that he didn’t think the vampire’s defenses would be sufficient. Inexcusable.
In fact, he was trusting Jean-Claude’s abilities to make up for downsizing his own regular dominating coterie: trusting Jean-Claude himself, as a vampire master with slaves to throw at the situation if required (Jean-Claude would not die for him, but St. Vier considered himself well within his rights to ask for a slave or two to fall on the sword for him, if it came to that. He could always replace the flesh with something better).
It was an unsettling thought, and when Jean-Claude touched his shoulder and came close to his face, it was all St. Vier could do to refrain from striking Jean-Claude to put distance between them.
He didn’t. He’d just run through the ways he currently needed the vampire master, after all. He wanted Jean-Claude to continue to be attentive—to not have anything on his mind (like St. Vier’s hissing reprimand for daring to manhandle him at a time like this) to slow the other master down if necessary.
He didn’t respond to Jean-Claude’s words of support, but looked at him briefly, inclining his head slightly. It would have to be enough.
Instead, he extended a hand, palm out. He didn’t look at Volithius, but kept his faze focused on the slave. He hadn’t shown interest in the scientist for some time; there was pressure on Ahkmet to perform, to be worth the price of calling the other into town at all.
If this went poorly because of an underwhelming demonstration of usefulness and power, St. Vier would take the shame out on the god-slave for sure; probably fatally so.
”Ahkmet” he murmured, his voice calm despite all of this, almost lazy.
”Demonstrate level 2 of your training: combat capabilities and service.” He wouldn’t start with all that Ahkmet had to offer; he wanted to see what Volithius’s ball was capable of.
He would prefer not to remove Ahkmet’s limiter—while Ahkmet had been trained to follow his every command without hesitation, there was no forgetting how easily the god-slave could simply erase all of them from the planes of the living in that form.
Ahkmet's golden hues brighten at his Master's command as his hand rose toward the sky as light shined above it, the light in question formed into a golden staff. Gripping the staff tightly and gave it a twirl as the end of it taps the floor, Ahkmet began to chant in a egyptian language, the room darkened slightly as what appeared to be a sandstorm of sorts appearing out of no where summoning skeletal soldiers dressed in tattered egyptian like armor. three of the many skeletal soldiers stood around Vier as to protect him in his stead as the Jackal God eyed the sphere on the ground then looked to another skeletal soldier pointing to the sphere as if ordering it to investigate the strange bobble. The creature obeyed its summoner and walked up to it and tried to touch it, the moment the skeletal creature touched it, the creature felt itself being pulled to the floor. Ahkmet witnessed this action and made a low rumbling growl.
Where: Guilty Pleasures With: Vier, Vol, and Jean-Claude Form: The Handsome Human Song:
Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy
Sadistic Nox
Rhine Jive Click
Posted: Wed Dec 12, 2018 11:32 am
♫Nero Evans♫
Where: Guilty Pleasures With: Aidyn, the bouncer Feeling: slipping in and out of consciousness OOC: sorry for the delay, wasn't sure how to respond with a pretty much unconscious character
Nero curled up against the wall, not even noticing the other two males leave the room. He could feel himself slipping in and out of being conscious, his body too weak and tired to do anything except stay where he was. The scavenger's mind was trying to go into overdrive, trying to urge him to get up and move, to get away from this unfamiliar place. But his muscles wouldn't respond. his energy all but gone from all the ordeals and encounters he had been through earlier. He was completely helpless at the moment, vurnerable to the whim of whoever walked into the room and found him.
The red head tried to shift a little, trying to find some secluded corner where he would be less likely to be found. But, again, his body wouldn't respond to any command to move. So the male just gave up trying to move and closed his eyes again, letting himself slip into unconsciousness again.
There was no need to respond to either the look of disappointment or the threat. Len didn’t want anything to happen to the red-haired boy either, and since the boy was in Guilty Pleasures it was, at least to a reasonable extent, his job to see that nothing did. He didn’t think that was worth re-stating: they’d met when he’d been trying to bounce them out of the club, after all.
”We need to find Jean-Claude” Len replied, continuing to lead the other down and towards the area he’d remembered the club owner being last. Jean-Claude had told them to stay away from the area for the next couple hours unless called—which was completely acceptable since the vampire himself would be in the area. But Len figured the possibility of a fire demon coming to the club was a good enough reason to make sure Jean-Claude was informed immediately.
”And it’s hard for me to believe you personally are such a loyal patron if you don’t know to pronounce his full first name.” He let that hang, not attaching any particular judgment to it. He didn’t think the other man was lying; he had seen Dante more than once, and if this one was stupid enough to invoke the dangerous-seeming man without actually being part of his entourage, he doubted he’d be seeing this one again any time soon.
They moved toward the private room, nearly there before Len actually responded to the question.
”You just told me you’re being followed by a fire demon who wants to damage you. You can’t hide out here on my say, so I’m going to introduce you to the man himself. I’m doing you a favor.” He enunciated this last part slightly, looking at the other with neutral eyes, the overall effect suggesting that he thought the other might not be especially bright.
He figured that was all that was necessary, and politely knocked on the door. He expected to be scolded for coming over at all (vampire as he was, he assumed Jean-Claude would know who he was).
No such response came, and he hesitated, briefly thrown for a loop as to what to do next.
Time passed, perhaps thirty seconds, and Len cleared his throat and hesitantly opened the door. He opened it onto—Nothing. Jean-Claude wasn’t there. He must have retired to his rooms. It was his usual MO, to come onto the floor for a short amount of time and then leave for his own space. Len cursed internally, and turned to the other man with a grimmer expression.
”Exactly how far behind you is this fire demon, and how powerful is it?”
Mood: Resigned With: one problem
”Adrenaline-Threat-Angel2”
”Kitty_Mew”
Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2018 11:50 am
Observant eyes watched the interaction between St.Vier and the vampire, he couldn't hear much of what they said but the mannerisms of the host made Vol wonder if there was something deeper between them. Seeing Jean-Claude whisper into St.Vier's ear like that made the scientist flex restless fingers into a fist. A scowling eye watched the vampire move away - that's right, step away from my property, scum.
His gaze moved to St.Vier when the man spoke the command and Volithious watched the show. A sudden storm of sand whipped through the air, vol had to raise a hand to his face to avoid sand getting in his eye as he tried not to miss a single moment. What sort of ability was this? Sand manipulation? No- a summoning? Something was coming from the depths of the storm, the sound of perfectly aligned footsteps marched into the room and the sandstorm started to ease off and rain down onto the soldiers that stopped still. Vol stared intently at these... skeletons? Did this Akmeht have control of death? or was it a deeper spell. So many questions came forth on the scientists tongue but he swallowed them as he watched one of the soldiers touch his orb.
Vol pulled out a small device that was like a small telescope. He put it up to his eye and analysed one of the skeletal creatures. The bones where nothing like he had seen before "Interesting."
The skeleton that slumped to the floor from touching the orb suddenly began to squirm. A black slime like substance came from the orb and started to tangle all around it until the skeletons bones went completely black and eye sockets possessed with a red hue. The black soldier stood up and remained still for a moment until Vol subtly signed it to move. The groggy puppet moved to join back in it's ranks, only it was no longer on their side. It's ragged movements had it stumble into it's brothers, leaving that black residue on more skeletons which began to take control of them too.
Vol barely even lifted a finger, this just happened as a little defense from the orb, it takes control of those that touch it when it's on guard mode. Well it should affect most people at least.
"That's quite a summoning you have there." He complimented, not to the god slave but to St. Vier. He wondered what else there was but Vol had enough of show and tell, he wanted to take them all to his labs. A selfish need which he could no longer keep calm.
He slipped a finger to his eye patch, and those that know him know this meant things were about to get dangerous. His free hand summoned the orb back into his care while the other removed the patch to reveal a glowing red eye that pinned straight onto St.Vier. Most people are usually rendered vulnerable by this gaze alone but St.Vier has likely grown a tolerance to it. His stoic character began to melt away as another part of him surfaced for blood. Vol just smiled and stared, thinking of all the devious s**t he was going to do when he had them all bound.
The skeletons still corrupted each other, which slowly put the army in Vols hands.
Vol placed the orb to his lips and whispered something, then suddenly threw it with great speed at Jean-Claude. The orb abruptly stopped before it touched him, then it began to expand and drop to the floor in a clump of black ooze which started to solidify and grow quickly, the orb transformed into a figure of a man matching the vampire's height then it started to adapt a face, fangs and attire that mirrored Jean-Claude. It was a dark replica of the vampire. The dark figure just stood and stared at it's master copy, ready to get it in the vampires way if he tried to step in. "There is too much to show you from my little project so you'll have to figure out the rest on your own." Vol chuckled, he still had the intention of giving the orb to St.Vier even if he didn't get the slave. He made it for him after all. But that was if St.Vier escaped him this time. "Thanks for the performance but I've seen enough now."
Vol started to walk towards St.Vier with full intention of hurting him.
As a vampire, and a master vampire at that, Jean-Claude’s senses and reflexes were, generally, far above those of most of those he met. Unfortunately, they didn’t manifest themselves in a useful way now. It wasn’t that he couldn’t have: he watched the army of skeletons, unsettled by the slave’s easy command of them (what was he, after all, if not some version of undead?). He watched the black ooze spread onto the singular skeleton, the slow takeover of the rest of the small ‘army.’
He didn’t intervene then because St. Vier wouldn’t want him to. This was why they were up here, for the scientist and St. Vier to exhibit the uses of the particular items they’d brought for each other.
Not knowing the scientist at all, he had no reason to be particularly concerned when the man reached a finger under his eyepatch—he did begin to tense at the aggressive posturing, could have swept over to him then and perhaps intervened, but he hesitated, still thinking this was part of the scene as intended.
By the time he knew without a doubt the man was going for St. Vier, he had his own problem to deal with.
The ooze—now shaped like he was—blocked his way at every turn, stymied every attempt to break free toward St. Vier. He began throwing power at it, changing shape to try to squeeze around it or take it down quickly. He had plenty of power to spare, and since his body did not function as it must have when it was alive, depending on muscles rather than whatever force it was that kept him animated against the laws of nature, he could keep resisting for a long time indeed.
He backed away slightly, letting the simulacrum follow him, reaching for powers particular to his bloodline. He needed some way to gain an advantage on this—thing. Some way to increase his own power while not allowing the other to. Whatever it was, as far as he could tell, it was not actually a person; there was no reason it would have a reproductive drive or any of the chemical components associated with that.
Jean-Claude had been turned by Bella de Morte herself—Beautiful Death, she was called, and those turned by her inherited her particular powers and predilections.
He hated to use them; hadn’t used them in some time. He had the creeping feeling—illogical—that if he did she would know where he was, would send for him. Even now, after the Apocalypse, when she was almost certainly gone. Knowing it was irrational, even now he used only the barest hint of her power, a kind of ardeur that washed the room in a kind of sexual energy. It was a kind of pheromone, though with no chemical origin, and to highly variable effect depending on the kind of creature he encountered. It almost always, at least, had some kind of effect. He was hoping at least for the far-reaching effect that would allow him to draw energy from anyone there, depending on how highly they were effected. His slaves had left the room, but the slave, the scientist, even St. Vier himself, were likely to feel something, and he could draw on that energy like a (temporary) incubus. He didn’t enjoy the sensation, because of its associations, but this was a clearcut emergency.
Finally, Jean-Claude struck out with pure vampiric energy, one of the only weapons he had that was meant to be effective on flesh of any kind at all—even this, he hoped. A long, deep slash cut into the dark figure, and the thing seemed to stumble. And then its hands made the same motions his had, and he found himself falling, fingers going automatically to hold the wound closed.
He fell to one knee, at the very least immobilized for now.
Mood: momentarily overwhelmed With: St. Vier, his slave Linneus, a slave-dog,Volithious Du'Mon Teufel
”Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy”
”xXYoung_Lord_CielXx”
”Sadistic Nox”
((Rolled a 2. Womp womp ))
Posted: Tue Jan 01, 2019 12:34 pm
••• St. × Vier
Ahkmet did beautifully. It wasn’t anywhere near the most impressive exhibition the slave could give, but it was undeniably interesting, and brought up some hint of the realms in which the slave could work. Death couldn’t but be interesting to someone like Volithius. The sheer physicality of it. The degradation, the reduction to base elements…yes, St. Vier knew him well enough to know at least one thing that would be appealing.
He had intended it, him, Ahkmet, to be—well, ********, it didn’t matter now.
St. Vier had been focused enough on Ahkmet’s display that he didn’t immediately notice the black ooze, the rebel soldier, until it started back for the slave’s small army. He actually approved of the challenge; it was one Ahkmet could have dealt with, could deal with, and he was still thinking in terms of what use the orb would be to him. The mechanism was unclear, but that was something St. Vier could discover at his leisure. A device that forced slaves to change loyalties could be highly entertaining at the kind of party he had been planning. Lovers against lovers, remnants of families and troublemakers making particular trouble among his esteemed guests—they would spend a great deal of money, seeing these problems eliminated in the showy ways St. Vier could set up with minimal trouble. He was pleased.
He remained pleased until Volithius shifted. Too used to extreme caution around the other man, time seemed to slow when the other moved a finger under his eyepatch. He breathed in harshly, and began to back up quickly when the patch was actually removed.
He tried to jerk his eye contact away quickly enough, shifting his face entirely to the window where he hoped to throw himself out, letting the Kir outside either catch him or carry his damaged body back to Haven in safety.
He was barely too late. He was half-caught, and he froze, unable to move a muscle, unable to breathe or blink away. Seconds of internal struggle built, and he breathed out, his chin moving slightly before going still again.
It was difficult to master, but St. Vier believed he could. Volithius took a step in front of him, and he tried to call for Ahkmet, his lips opening, breath gathering in his lungs—he couldn’t quite get the order out. He gagged on his own gathered breath, the physical imperative breaking through more, letting him take another step back.
That was when whatever Jean-Claude had done swept through him.
St. Vier was not primarily a sexual creature. His body, at some level, enjoyed it, but it had, through his years as a slaver, even before with Volithius and others, lessened as a drive—was not something he necessarily valued personally. Sure, there was pleasure in giving in, but could it compare to the satisfaction of seeing a newly altered slave exhibiting exactly the behaviors he had been trying to instill? Was it necessary to the long hours, the constant work, that fueled him?
…Was it a religious experience? This last was, generally, the only time St. Vier cared about sex or anything adjacent to it: when he’d decided his proper god or goddess was something approaching Dionysus, Prende, Teico, Ixcuiname, Xochipilli, Kuni, Astarte, Cliodhna, Baimei Shen, Eros, Freyr, Pan, Ishtar.
Here, now, there was nothing divine focusing him. A wordless breath, originating from him, flowed through the channel between him and Volithius. It was purely unintended, quietly wanton, the result of surprise, the combination of shifting among options—escape, or dare he try to take the other down in response to this breaking of neutrality—and the sudden bodily reaction forced into him by Jean-Claude. A kind of invitation, of a kind he would never have given in words, out loud. He tried to take it back immediately, shutting the channel between them hard to disallow any response.
He forced his mouth open out of sheer frustration and ill will, pulling in breath to speak aloud.
”4.” He meant level four, an advanced level meant for taking and subduing powerful potentials St. Vier found on the street (he had originally thought of making Ahkmet an updated Honey, with fewer of the latter slave’s unfortunate neuroses).
”Contain.” His voice sounded weird; too low, strangled from his throat. He thought he could feel some strength bleeding from him, even as he continued to back toward the window, toward his Kir.
Ahkmet noticed his minion change and soon joining its brother’s ranks contaminating the rest of the unit. This did not sit well with the Jackal God, tapping the staff against the floor once more as a swirling torrent of dark energy flowed around the contaminated army imprisoning them in a dome of dark magics and within that very dome the soldiers would dissolve into nothing more than ash. Turning his attention to his Master he noticed his Master was in trouble, he soon started to twirl his staff as the remaining sand from the sandstorm that brought in his minions began to lift upward and swirl gently around Vier in a gentle vortex meant for protection and some obscure vision. Ahkmet had heard his Master’s order prior to casting the vortex on his Master, his golden hues brighten further and his ebony locks stood on end. At that moment he sensed something strange from the other male that Vier was close friends with, his tanned face began to flush a bit while keeping his focus on the dangerous male that turned his minions against him, being careful not to make direct eye contact he slams his staff against the floor as sand poured in around the dangerous males feet, from the sand chains would spring outward and coil around the strange male tightly, as well as some cloth used to mummify the dead covering the males eyes for the time being. When all was said and done Ahkmet began to breathe lightly as beads of sweat roll down his tanned skin, at times he cursed his heightened senses when he smelled strange pheromones wafting in the air.
Where: Guilty Pleasures With: Vier, Jean-Claude, and Vol Form: The Handsome Human Song:
Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy
Rhine Jive Click
Sadistic Nox
Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2019 1:15 am
He watched his fabulous clone creation do it's job in the background and the moment he saw the proud man falter onto a knee, a triumphant smile jerked his lips. That's right, you stay down there.
Volithious closed in on St.Vier, enjoying the moments of dread his footsteps caused. The scientist's usual calm self only buried deeper the longer he had both eyes free, he actually didn't think St.Vier would fall victim to his gaze so easily since he'd done it a few times before in the past, so this just worked more in his favor.
Seeing the gloomy creature robbed of his will to move truly gave Volithious more pleasure than he thought, in fact it was just down right arousing for the scientist to have all these strong pieces bound to his will.
An internal alarm set off inside Vol's body and information started to jot in front of his white eye; warning him of genetic interference, something unseen was trying to influence his body which only set off some bodily defenses. He porbed for the source quickly and was directed to look over at Jean-Claude. A vampire that can manipulate pheromones similar to the Incubi? Now that was interesting, was this pure blood hiding something? It certainly added further interest in the scientist so he have the orb a command. "Capture him." this would make a good testing ground to see the orbs capabilities, can it's cloning really outmatch an original? He was about to find out. It will suck the energy out of the vampire once it get's a good hold.
Something came through the channel between him and Vier, he momentarily felt all those mixed feelings within the slender beast but what got him darkly smirking was the creatures desire to capture the scientist. Really? Still at it will that? As much as he wanted to tease on the subject, he was no fool, there was still the slave to take care of, ah but... This moment. Volithious couldn't resist it.
He stopped right in front of St.Vier, his red and white eye burning with sadistic hunger as he raised his hands, brushing over one of St.Viers cheeks with one, his other started to cage around the man's frozen throat which tried to utter words but only a couple came out. Vol's voice whispered like honey dripping poison "What are you so afraid of? You will get used to the pain eventually." he oozed his voice close to the man's lips in a threatening kiss when sand suddenly started to slip between them.
Vol stepped back quickly as a sudden wall of sand broke away his contact. Oh, that's right. The Egyptian runt over there still needed to be dealt with. The scientist glared over but the little god was avoiding his gaze, hm, so he wasn't that dim it seemed. "You littl-!?" Vol was caught by surprise when chains struck up from beneath him and locked his broad arms to his side, he went to break away before it got worse but it was too late, something wrapped over his eyes and he was engulfed in darkness. He tried to pull away his head but the more he tried, the further whatever was constricting his gaze would pull his head back. Vol gave one last struggle in his chains before he settled down and almost laughed, in fact he did laugh, it had been a while since he was caught off guard, perhaps St.Vier was blame there.
Still, this was nothing he couldn't get out of, he still had a significant amount of control and also he still had the room completely sealed. No one was getting in or out, not while his orb was still active. "This is quite the slave you have here, do you still wish to trade?" Vol asked with a smile, not showing any signs of defeat just yet as he listened to his clone still do his bidding. But hey, if he agreed then he may just walk away like he originally intended. No promises for the vampire though.
The copy had him on his back by now, one arm pulled back to deliver a cut across his face. Jean-Claude was near-to unrecognizable from the beautiful creature he’d been when he was calm. The bones of his face were sharp, his mouth open in a preternatural grimace, needle-like canines far longer than a human-shaped mouth could ever hold. His skin was entirely white, the texture harder than a human’s, almost like porcelain, if it were less brittle. His eyes had gone white—dead eyes, the cornea and iris either overwhelmed by whatever film had covered them, or rolled back in his head. No one would have called him beautiful but a necrophile.
It did seem he could see, in any case. Long, sharp fingers were raised in an attempt to counter the thing, but it was a losing battle. The thing didn’t tire; he wouldn’t either, normally, but it also didn’t seem to react to damage. Unfortunately, he did. The cut came, and his face opened. It wasn’t anything like a killing blow, but it could be debilitating—but then it happened. He inhaled, something he hadn’t done for the thirty seconds or so he’d been in combat. As he did, power flowed through him. A shocking amount, in fact. He hadn’t been expecting so much.
He slid around the creature as easily as he might have with one of his victims (back when he’d had victims), punching a hole through its chest. Not being a true being, this likely wouldn’t stop it.
To be sure, he ripped it in half, flinging the pieces that tried to cling to him off. Maybe it would reconstitute and come at him again, try to cling to him as it had begun to. But that was seconds from now, and seconds were all he needed.
The scientist was far too close to St. Vier, even chained and bound as he was. He’d lost the right, in Jean-Claude’s eyes, to be so close. The other man’s position was perfect: the neck lengthened, the head pulled back and up. He’d intended to attack more conventionally, but whatever energy he’d pulled sparked through him.
He approached in a flash, locking an arm around the captured man’s chest, bowing him back even further in a parody of a lover coming in for a dramatic kiss.
Impossible fangs sank into Volithius’s neck, ripping slightly as Jean-Claude molded against him. Sexual energy still flowing through him from all three of those present, he snarled into the flesh there, a sharp counterpoint to how hopeless he’d felt moments before.
He’d promised to protect St. Vier. This wasn’t what the man had intended, but he would. Any additional hostility he felt for the scientist for his overfamiliarity, the way he’d leant in toward the slaver’s face moments before—it was irrelevant. He told himself it was irrelevant.
Mood: Furious With: St. Vier, St. Vier’s slave, Volithious Du'Mon Teufel, the possibly-still-animate remains of his copy
”Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy”
”xXYoung_Lord_CielXx”
”Sadistic Nox”
Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2019 2:23 pm
••• St. × Vier
A chill was still making its way down his spine when Jean-Claude struck, the phantom sensation of Volithius’s hand on his cheek still there. With Volithius’s eyes hooded, St. Vier abruptly found himself able to move at will. A hand went automatically to his neck, his expression pulled in a rictus of anger. His pupils had dilated, his body posture markedly different--looser, less controlled. If there was a god to be worshipped, it certainly wasn’t the kindly god who had directed him with Lokeah earlier.
He moved to the window, intending to break it open, call the Kir in; he’d see the scientist dismembered, brought legless to Haven to be trained as a pet. Unfortunately, it seemed whatever it was that was containing them inside Jean-Claude’s ballroom wasn’t affected by the scientist’s temporary state.
St. Vier snarled in frustration, well aware this wasn’t any time to relax, however effective Ahkmet’s binding was at the moment. If he’d come into Guilty Pleasures with his Kirs at his side, as he always did, as he always did--
His mood wasn’t helped by the continuous pounding of blood encouraging him toward a sexual precipice, working at his willpower. Persistent, nagging, a building itch--he wanted this done. He wanted Haven; he wanted Volithius’s unconscious body restrained, a room with just the two of them; perhaps Ahkmet too in the beginning but finally just him; him, and the saw; him and his whip. Him and the accumulated knowledge of an artisan slaver he’d gathered over the years.
”Ahkmet” he hissed, irritated as his own comparative impotence in the moment, the inability to be the one to enact his desires firsthand.
”Constrict. Take him out. No mercy.” More chains, less air, less blood--whatever it took. If the slave accidentally killed him--well, then the scientist was weaker than St. Vier had thought he was.
