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 Posted: Wed May 08, 2013 10:13 am
"Jake's still an a*****e who's gonna get what's comin' ta him again if he don't drop that attitutde'a his towards me an' get the ******** over himself." Ofelia hissed her words and then stopped, shocked at what she said and how she'd said it. The look on her face was one of embarassment and a voice inside her head cackled. "Er, never mind. Kinda bad blood he's got out fer me at the moment, not really sure why."
Glad to see you still have that anger issue. I was worried that if I came back to talk with you you'd lose it. Rue said, happily purring on each word. Ofelia's cheeks continued to color and almost spread as red as her hair. And you know why, Ms. Flay-him-alive.
Ofelia wished Rue would drop that and she instead just held Stormy closer. Gale had stomped off and Candace wasn't making a go at chasing him down which meant either she was giving him space or he was in a bad enough mood no one wanted to mess with that. The warmth of the sun kept blaring down and the redhead wondered if there was a chance for a sunburn on top of everything else. Peeling for a few weeks would be a small price to pay for having everyone walk out of here alive.
And then Ofelia saw Candace actually eat the cookie, taking the paper out first. "So uh...is it bad luck ta eat the entire cookie, fortune an' all? Jus'...wonderin', in case someone is curious." She asked the Mist Hunter. Ofelia had totally eaten the cookie, paper and all. Oh well.
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Posted: Wed May 08, 2013 10:19 am
Deryk stared at the cookie he was handed, blinking. The wish was too good to be true, but he was hoping his question would have been answered anyway. Oh well. He tried. Letting out a sigh, he cracked open his cookie and pulled out the little paper before eating the rest of it.
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Posted: Wed May 08, 2013 10:06 pm
"Suit yourself," The Horsemen gave a one-shoulder shrug, clasping his hand instead on Shik's sacrifice. When peeled his fingers open the Distortion crystal had taken a small dagger shape, sharp at one end, with the crystal embedded in it. "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that nothing is for free, one sacrifice for another. You know what to do if you really want to help your ally." He winked.
In his other hand however, like watching a cheap parlour trick appear from mid-air, were three other identical-shaped daggers. They were however, empty. "For if you change your mind, since my dear Medea is so concerned about your well-being. I'll tell you a little secret," His voice wasn't exactly quiet enough for a secret as the Horsemen of Death leaned over, slightly, "Distortion cancels Insanity. That's what this is for. They give a little bit more focus, but if you still refuse, they do make great butter knives. They need just a bit of Fear to activate, a small sacrifice, if you ever change your mind. Scurry along then, little badgers, I'll see you soon."
He did a little hand wave, and the horsemen simply disappeared, returned back to the Sanctuary. The Horsemen of Death stood up, making a slight show of it. "Now where is my Sedan, I could have sworn I parked it here." He paused, turning back around. "Ah yes, one last thing, while you are still here, while you are still here. The horsemen are my proteges, but you Humans, created me, in your Fear. As long as you exist my services will be needed, which, well, I'm sure you can do the math as to my prolonged and invested interest in future matters. Business and politics, I have no job if I have no paying customers."
There was a very odd roar and from the sand, literally, burst a black four-seater car, smooth and polished and extremely compact. There was no driver, though the Horsemen of Death took the passenger's seat and Medea with some gesturing and coercing, begrudgingly the seat behind him. He rolled down the window, and then popped a candy in his mouth. "I'll see some of you on the business side very soon." A pause and then he made a face. "Tomato, really?"
*
They were all statues, still. Time was running out. It was over.
The sole survivor looked up.
"What will it be then?" He placed the tips of his fingers together as his pocket watched ticked ever so slowly. "Everyone gets one."
"One more time." They were determined. "One more chance."
"Hmm I don't mind actually. It's a favour for me. I've been wanting you well, I've been wanting to do a transaction with you for a while." He held out his hand, thin, bony. "Shake on it?"
Their hand was grasped by one just as bloody and hollow. "Even if I am erased here, my fragment will still remain. I believe that if they try enough times, the outcome will change."
"Interesting. We shall see then." The Horsemen paused and then smiled, a little, "Or well, I will."
Click. OOC THIS RP IS OFFICIALLY OVER!- If the horsemen embrace Death's gift, whether they use it or not, they will find a little more clarity in their life just by activating it and carrying it. Activating it does require a small sacrifice so think carefully! Congrats for officially hitting stage 2! - All characters get +1 rp points for just rping and another + 2 for going over 800 words. You get DOUBLE that for double rp week! (so calculate how much you did and multiple it BY TWO) - Mark eventually unpasses out enough to set up a portal for Hunters to go home. Hooray! - If you would like, feel free to write concluding posts before you exit!
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Posted: Wed May 08, 2013 10:17 pm
It was over. They were done. And Mengyao stood there swaying slightly, his head feeling as though the pressure was almost too much to bear. He had not chosen, but now he almost wished he had.
Almost. He gave a sharp intake of breath and pulled his hand away from Senga's, taking a step backwards, and then another, away from Senga, away from Lifen, away from all of them -
- and then he was gone, and so were the rest.
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Posted: Thu May 09, 2013 5:21 pm
Nevada and Dakota were just like:
We're out. Peace.
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Posted: Sun May 19, 2013 5:59 pm
Eris' scowl deepened, that debonair smile doing little for the Protector of War, save make her sick to her stomach. Everything about him made her sick to her stomach, although not in the way one would think; it wasn't her loathing of him that made her stomach twist, nor was it any sort of attraction. It was the power which he practically radiated, perhaps purposely, perhaps completely unconsciously, the dark smell of Death overpowering all the senses that made her uneasy. Like a spooked horse sensing danger, all of her instincts screamed run, every fiber of her being wanting to bolt. Intimidation had been an unusual sensation for the cocky Heir. She had never, not once in her life, ever felt the urge to run from a fight. As a member of the War clan, it was in her blood to run towards a fight, meet it head on and battle fiercely, without hesitation; it was what they were born to do, they fed off of the thrill of confrontation. But not with Death. In the times she had met him, there had never been one single instance where she had not felt unsettled, always feeling the watch of an critical, unblinking eye.
Never, however, had he given her reason to truly be afraid.
It seemed today was a good day to correct that.
It was not until the wave of sheer will flooded over them that Eris realized the extent of her mistake. In a single instant, everything was gone, replaced by the overwhelming pressure, like a sound too low to hear, vibration so fast it shook the very core of her being. She had no time to scream, although if she had tried, she would have found her voice lodged in her throat, intangible fingers squeezing and strangling her from the inside. It was as if someone had reached through her chest and had grabbed her spine in an unforgiving, wrenching grip, and she could hear the way it popped as the grip tightened, squeezing hard enough that she convulsed, back arched painfully. He plucked at the strings of her soul, and she could not even scream, the silence maddening but for the sound of his voice echoing in her head, telling her what would be.
In that single instant, Eris realized the error in her assumption. Death had not merely survived two cleansings. He had survived all of them.
And then, it was over.
All of her strength left her in a rush, and she felt her knees buckling, threatening to leave her in a pile on the hot sand. But at the last second, Invictus' arm was around her, pulling her firmly, protectively against him, keeping her upright. The Protector shook a little, clearly more than a little shaken by the ordeal, listening silently as the others prostrated themselves in front of the Ancient, naively asking their questions and for their wishes to be granted. And all the while, she kept her eye on Death, the loathing she felt undiminished by his threat, despite her submissiveness. She listened, clinging to Invictus, until Death had but one final gift to give. Eris' eyes slid to Aisa as she took the ring from her superior, following the transformation which overtook the dark-haired Protector. The scythe which appeared was magnificent, worthy of an Heir of Death, the symbolic hourglass embedded it he hilt a constant reminder that sooner or later, death came for them all. Aisa deserved it. And Eris was proud of her.
But as the car appeared, and Death and Medea rode off, War's Heir watched until he was completely out of sight before she turned to Invictus, her eyes devoid of anything but a simmering hate.
"Invictus. I think it's time we start training."
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Interesting Conversationalist
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