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 Posted: Wed Apr 17, 2013 9:59 pm
((Title: The Invention of the Devil)) Du glaubst fester an den Regen, denn der Regen ist wie du.
It smelled of rotten dreams.
It reeked, in fact, of cloudy thoughts, broken mannerisms, destructive tendencies.
One might say this place once held itself in high esteem, in good moral standing, but it succumbed to the throes of debauchery long ago. The descent was slow, plodding, torturously drawn out. No one noticed, in fact.
But anyone could smell it.
Sickly lamplight spilled across the walls like vomit, dripping down to the floor and pooling into the stained surface of the sidewalks. Putrescent trash coagulated into sludge within the corners of the cement, threatening to ooze into the street. The buildings, stained with smoke and silent crimes, bore witness to the raunch contained therein. The lamp posts stood as vertebrae along the spine of the street, spreading their cloudy, illuminating skin across the entirety of the alley. Rain penetrated it like thousands of needles, pelting the sinewy street beneath it.
This place.
This once proud, once noble place.
This once proud, once noble place served as a breeding ground for degenerates.
Degenerates like himself.
Alois Scholz.
He remained a cockroach skittering beneath the surface, conjoining with a sea of trash and tribulations. He pressed between lovers, skirted a score, rounded an attempt for revenge. All these things, from a junkie nodded off in the stairwell to the mugging victim slumped against the wall, all these things reeked of the same vivid, visceral, vivacious scent.
Life.
It was within the confines of the deplorable that he felt most at home. When he bore witness to treachery, he felt connected to the world. When he watched victims of theft, he felt engaged in the plot. When he heard the cacophony of broken glass, he felt as though he were privy to a secret. All these attractions tied him to the underworld, in thick cords of steel. He wore their tainted influence like scars, displayed them like trophies. He wanted the world to know he's danced with the darker side of man.
Between the whispers of condemned lovers were the yells of street trash. The harbingers of the law, he figured. Normally they intertwined as melody and harmony, playing against each other in a succinct fashion. This night, however, this rain-stricken night bore a different song. This night, the cries were so distinct, so overwhelming, that they garnered attention from the otherwise oblivious. men and women broke from each other and turned toward the sounds of assumed violence, in hopes of catching sight of a crime in motion. Others immediately turned toward the streets and fled without thought. One thing was for certain - as the sound of screaming elevated, the crowded alley thinned out.
Soon enough, he stood facing the hollow throat of the alley. Alone. Only the rain echoed through the place, steady and solemn, washing away the sticky filth into cluttered rain gutters. The buildings loomed tall, staring down at him with emotionless windows. Only a single, distant street lamp flickered with dying breaths, punctuating its toxic light with a morse code that no one recognized. The emptiness of the alley bore heavily on him, reducing him to an instinctual fear that something was inherently wrong with the place. Something was present that simply didn't belong.
Alois tried to rationalize it, even as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with adrenaline. It felt as if the laws of physics temporarily broke, that a building could be bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, or that time and space existed independently of each other. He tried to write it off as the ambience of an empty alley, but it did little to quell the pounding of his heart. All he could hear, apart from the rain, were the relentless beats pounding in his ears.
And finally he saw it.
It walked with an unearthly grace. It padded along the grungy sidewalk soundlessly, almost as if its paws never touched the ground, if one could call those paws. It walked on what looked like backwards hands, with pads arching up towards its body. Its general shape resembled a cat, from a distance, but as it approached, the legs looked unnaturally long and gangly. The limbs bent backward, facing towards him while it approached. Its head, if that was indeed its head, looked more like a bulbous appendage sporting an empty hole. Its whiplike tail hung low to the ground and curled backward to avoid touching the sidewalk. The entirety of this thing was an inky black, yet strangely translucent.
Alois found no words, in English or in German, to describe it. Monstrous might suffice, but it was somehow fascinating. Despite the wrongness of it all, he couldn't part his gaze from it. He couldn't move from it. He couldn't approach it. All he found the will to do was watch silently, waiting for it to pass him and dissipate into the night as quickly as it arrived.
Instead, it lunged at him with that same unearthly grace, and while he braced for impact, he felt no such force. Rather, the landscape swayed with perilous vigor, and he was forced to steady himself against an ash-stricken wall. His head fogged, his limbs temporarily weighed down with hot lead. Despite panting vigorously, he couldn't get enough air. Alois was forced to sink to his knees, to collapse against the building as minute sparks ate through the corners of his vision. Through the pinpoint tunnel remaining, he looked back toward the mouth of the alley.
That same inky creature sat watching him with predatory interest. It stood once more, readying itself for another charge, when the sound of something far more sinister approached from the distance.
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Posted: Fri Apr 19, 2013 11:06 pm
The rain pounded the sidewalk and while normally he would never go out into the rain, he didn't fancy being wet let alone drenched, he was out tonight and wandering. It was only because he had an umbrella that he remained outside and allowed his feet to guide him, it really was starting to come down. His thoughts were everywhere and yet no where tonight, as they had been for the past few days and nights, as they pounced about his head like a group of tennis balls thrown at the walls of a very small room. He'd left the hospital and it's white walls, white floors, nose burning chemical smell almost two hours ago and yet he didn't know how much time had passed since leaving the hospitals. Alexandre was lost and not in the physical sense but the mental and emotional sense.
Two days had gone by since he'd spoken to Jett and cut his blond hair. Three nights, and days, since he'd condemned Bazzite to life as a youma. It had seen a few days longer since his mother had been shot. And Alexandre was slowly letting things sink in and bring him down emotionally. He wasn't a nervous wreck, he wasn't acting irrationally, he wasn't loosing his temper, he was simply depressed and lost - like a puppy lost in an all too large world.
Down roads, around corners, across streets, Alexandre's feet took him to places unknown to them and unknown to him. The stores, and places weren't known to the short haired blond, not from the half aware glances he took as he walked. He really should be more aware of his surroundings, and normally he was, but he hadn't been in a week or so. He couldn't seem to focus himself properly or at all, and right now he simply couldn't focus himself at all. It seemed like a struggle to focus his eyes and actually take in what was around him, and it wasn't a struggle he wanted to win or even cared to win. So he walked, nearly blind, until shouting and screaming grabbed his attention. There should be no reason for people to be shouting and screaming...and fleeing he noticed. What was going on that people were pouring out of an alley way? Did he even care to go and investigate? He couldn't do much - he couldn't find it in him to power up or even want to. Not after what his power - his darkness - had done to Bazzite - to Johnathan.
It seemed however that instinct was hard to defeat as his feet took him toward where the people had been fleeing. His umbrella clenched tightly in one hand, as if he was tensing in anticipation of something.
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Posted: Sun Apr 21, 2013 10:02 pm
Any normal person should have tried to distance themselves from the sound of screaming. Should have run in the opposite direction, as fast as they could. Should have rushed away from whatever was causing such terror.
Of course, any normal person probably should have been inside and out of the rain all-together, but not everyone was that lucky. Or that normal.
Remarque had spotted the wraith only a few moments ago; the little ******** had tried to go through him for energy. Remarque had dodged, if only just barely—and decided that he was making this one personal.
Every fiber in his being begged him to smash the wraith into the cement, shatter it and go home to his nice, warm, dry bed, but obligation, miserable as it was making him, forced him away from the option.
The wraith had bolted before he had time to punt it through a mirror; it hadn't responded when he tried to summon it back to mirrorspace with one of his shards, so he settled for the next best thing—chasing the thing down.
To powered folk, the concept of a Dark Mirror Senshi charging through the rain after something as small as a wraith might have been comical. To civilians, it might have been concerning, though it was difficult to argue that Remarque did not look a little amusing in his colorful getup, sopping wet.
An attempt to skid to a stop gracefully failed and he splashed water all over the place. It didn't matter that he was already drenched; he was furious about it, all the same.
He saw the wraith in the alleyway, target obvious. Remarque had never full approved of killing anyone, and he wasn't sure how much more energy this one had to spare. The wraith didn't seem to care; it was already preparing for another run through. It was closer to solid now, which wouldn't have bothered Remarque if he knew the wraith would pull back if he said so. The wraiths were reckless, unimpressed and fearless when it came to such matters as their own demise. He'd seen a wraith, for the first time, shatter—just earlier this week. He wasn't going to lose another one, even if it was an ungrateful little b*****d.
"Hey," he hissed sharply, hoping that the angrier he seemed, the more eagerly the wraith would respond. He stomped towards it, water splashing beneath him and sloshing from his boots. He jabbed an angry finger in the direction he had come from. "Go," he seethed, as if he actually expected the wraith to listen.
It didn't.
Instead, it shifted positions, pawed at the ground—and then looked at the civilian in front of him. It took only a few seconds for the creature to decide it didn't give a s**t what the senshi said and lunged towards Alois, absolutely indifferent to Remarque's concerns.
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Posted: Sat Apr 27, 2013 11:38 pm
Alois fixated on a solitary figure in the distance. The rain enshrouded him, obscured him from view, and Alois could only discern a vague outline amidst the cacophony of the storm. In a sense, he felt far away. Distant. Almost impossibly connected to his time and place. Perhaps it was the weakness he felt, the numbness crawling up his extremities, that toyed with his mind. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe this was nothing but a dream, some kind of metaphor for what would become of him should he continue behaving the way he does.
But all that seemed unlikely - he resonated with nihilism, not fate.
He was the soul whose death would be meaningless. it would come without warning, without closure. Perhaps he'd be struck down by a speeding car, or an errant bullet at a party. It wouldn't matter; the result was the same. He'd be dead with no explanation, no conclusions, no chance to resolve the tribulations of his life.
But that's how it was for everyone.
Exhaustion cursed him like sleepless spiders. Even as he leaned against the filth-stained wall, his breath echoed in his ears and fogged his mind. He couldn't concentrate; his mind sprawled through a thousand different thoughts, from all parts of his life - his sister, and her solo performance tonight. The number of cigarettes he had left. Whether he walked Tschambes in the morning or the afternoon. Which authors he forgot to stock before closing up shop earlier. All these things... all these seemingly meaningless things passed through his mind in stride, as quick as the rain.
As meaningless.
A uniform flow, without pause, without mercy.
Almost melancholic, in its own way.
Was this what it's like to have his life flash before his eyes? He always thought of it differently, that major events would replace in distinct clarity, that he'd remember the close ties he had with his family, that a host of emotions would well up inside him.
Yet...
There he stood, mentally cycling a checklist as if to see whether he could relax for the day. He leaned against a grungy wall, drenched, shivering, weak; he knew with an innate certainty that he would die that day. So why did only the little things matter? What point was there in replaying his day to find out if he'd walked the dog in the afternoon, or if his sister would mind that he'd missed her concert? They were mere minutia against the backdrop of his life, just sickly stars in the sky.
He was faced with a beast that he'd never seen before, and he didn't even care.
There was a man yelling at it, a man who could possibly save him from an imminent demise, and he didn't even care.
There were footsteps coming up the alley, bound to become entwined in the ordeal, and he didn't even care.
Alois tried to straighten up, to brace himself against the wall. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he could react, that otherworldly falling sensation pervaded his senses. Vertigo overcame his desire to stand on his own two feet, and he buckled against the wall almost instantaneously. With his vision succumbed to the thousand sparks of lightheadedness, he had no way of knowing if the beast intended for a final strike.
Idly he considered calling for help. It seemed so... superfluous. Why bother? Who was going to care, that guy in the alley? The one who seemed unnatural? Or what about the other one, who was running into the alley? Should he bother dragging him into this murky dream of his? Was this even real?
"Hey, don't just stand around..." He started, but lacked the energy to continue further. He already found it sufficiently labor intensive to breathe.
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Posted: Sun Apr 28, 2013 12:59 am
Even as he raced toward the scene, down the alley way, he saw a familiar figure and stopped to stare for a moment. He knew what a mirror wraith was, having seen them on the odd occasion here and there, but to see Remarque there and with an obvious rogue mirror wraith was new to him. Why did he figure it was rogue? Simple, it didn't seem to be listening to the eternal senshi as the wraith seemed to hold it's ground and deny the senshi's order.
Eyes the color of wet slate moved from Remarque to the wraith and lastly to the fallen civilian as he did a quick assessment of the situation at hand. The assessment he made wasn't something which pleased him and in fact was rather worrisome and just a bit troublesome as well. He was stuck here and in the middle of this. He couldn't - no he wouldn't - leave and he was here as a civilian. If he powered up the real civilian in all of this would see. But he also didn't know if Remarque would need help, though he did have confidence in the eternal senshi and his abilities. But the other issue was if the wraith came after him. As he stood now he seemed a nice yummy energy filled treat for the wraith, not that he wouldn't be while powered up either, and he wasn't in the mood of helping that thing gain in strength.
It wasn't a decision he wanted to make, one he wished to avoid, but his choice was clear enough to him that it was made and quickly so. The umbrella was dropped, for the moment, as the ash blond powered up. The only people in the alley were himself, Remarque and the civilian, as every other civilian had taken the chance to run and flee for their own safety.
"Remarque, care to tell me just why this wraith seems so intent upon defying your orders?" Mustering up enough confidence and strength to try and sound like himself from a week ago. He needed to operate now and help if it was needed. He hadn't intended to power up any time soon, and for good reason, but it seemed that his wish to not power up had been dashed. And now that he was powered up he needed to muster up his old self, dig it up out of it's grave and resuscitate it. He needed to be his old self right now and not fall apart, not like he had this past week.
Already though he'd made a mistake and he knew it, he also would need to correct it somehow, he'd powered up where a civilian could see. And while hoping he wasn't seen was a good thing it was also pointless and couldn't be counted on. He had to act as though they'd seen it and that sealed this civilians fate for all intensive purposes. They would either die, which he disliked as an option, or he would have to corrupt them or Remarque would. He didn't want to go putting his hand inside someone; not after all the trouble that had already caused this week.
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Posted: Fri May 03, 2013 6:22 pm
It was easy for Remarque to ignore the civilian on the ground; he'd let wraiths drain strangers dry before. It was different now—now that it wasn't a target he had selected. He wouldn't have been Remarque's first choice to sap—even if he had been the only available candidate. Benitoite, not so easy to ignore.
"Beni," he greeted, seeming a bit surprised at the General's appearance. "Yeah, well. Afraid I can't help you. The little s**t just—" his words were cut short when the wraith lunged. Remarque had been high-wired and ready to grab it, but it was too late. Another run through the civilian on the ground was nothing for it—but it just had to press its luck.
Even as Remarque made to grab it, it ran through his fingers. It was more solid than he liked, but it sure as hell wasn't done. As if Alois hadn't been a tantalizing enough meal, the creature charged right through Benitoite. There was no modesty or hesitance; it sucked what energy it could from in just as though he were any old stray on the street.
Remarque swore and, shard in hand, lurched towards the wraith. It didn't escape him this time, but it wasn't happy; twice it tried to jump through him, flitting through his hands before, with a shriek that sounded like breaking glass it flailed and then slipped back into the shard Remarque was pressing firmly to its forehead.
The eternal senshi held the shard for a long moment, crouched while he caught his breath. "Sorry," he said when he stood, brushing his clothes off and pretending like nothing had happened. Nonchalantly he tucked away his shard and looked to the General. "…Yes, well. You're looking rather fresh. Haircut, very nice."
Made him look less like a woman.
His blue eyes flicked to the civilian on the ground. "…I'd love to answer any of your questions, but I think we have something a little more pressing to deal with. Is this a friend of yours?"
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Posted: Sat May 04, 2013 3:53 pm
Slowly the visage of the new arrival came into focus. He looked peculiar as well, but not so fundamentally wrong like the other one. His blonde hair slowly came into focus, and contrasted heavily with the deep blues and blacks of his outfit. He wore a cape that looked as if it swallowed all light, especially in the torrential rain. An unusual vest, thigh high boots... Were it not for his height, he would look marginally intimidating. As it were, he simply looked unassuming
Alois would've taunted him had he not felt quite so drained.
He watched lethargically as the otherworldly beast charged the blonde, and leapt through him in a way he'd never thought possible. Was that what happened to him? Did it simply pass through his body, as if the two were on different planes of existence? It sounded preposterous, like a passing fancy of H. P. Lovecraft. Maybe that's all this was - some twisted machination to which he was simply subjecting himself. It couldn't be real.
The monster let out an utterly harrowing scream when the unnatural-looking one pressed a mirror shard to its head, and... That was it. The beast simply disappeared, as confoundingly as it came. Alois wasn't sure if it was dead or not, despite the bloodcurdling cry, but he considered himself fortunate that it would no longer attack him.
For now.
Alois struggled to raise himself to his feet. His vision fogged, and he wasn't thinking clearly. He wanted to leave this place, to put some distance between himself and the two that apparently knew each other. He didn't want a part in their unusual reality.
He wanted to slip away into the rain, into the darkness and forget this place.
However, any hope of leaving without notice was dashed when the stranger of the two drew attention to him. Leaving wouldn't be quite so easy now. With a whispered curse, he slipped a hand into his back pocket and felt the familiar weight of a switchblade. He knew not what they intended to do with him, but something this impossible was unheard of. It wouldn't be farfetched to assume they wanted to do away with him, now that he's borne witness to something that wasn't common knowledge.
In fact, he was fairly certain most people go their whole lives without witnessing this type of thing. What if he told someone? It might be worth a media story or two, but ultimately he'd fade into the classification of batshit with the alien abductees and the believers in Elvis' persevering presence. He wasn't even sure if he believed it himself. "I don't know who you are," he began, pausing frequently to catch his breath. "But... I don't know what zat sing was. I don't want to know. So just... let me leaf' here."
Would they let him be? Maybe. If not, he'd see how well the unnatural stood up to a blade.
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Posted: Sat May 04, 2013 11:57 pm
Of course the other would be surprised to see him, all things considered, not to mention the tired look about him and the shorter hair. He stood out and was different at the same time. "I can see the issue you're having. Care for a hand?" He asked as calmly as he could. The civilian surely wouldn't do well if this continued. "Can a wraith kill a person?" He suddenly asked. If so then there was more reason to stop this, and to fear this wraith who was ignoring the dark mirror senshi.
Seeing it headed his way he didn't have time to move, too surprised, and gaped from the shock. He'd been drained before but never when powered up and never like this. He'd never faced down a wraith. Leaning against the alley way wall he stared toward the damnable thing.
As he watched Remarque handle the thing, and more questions formed as he watched, he flashed a tight smile at his fellow blond. "I doubt I look that fresh, not with how I feel." Humorless laughter escaped him even as he pushed off the wall and made his way toward the civilian. "No. Not someone I know. Just some poor civilian who's seen more than they should have." Thinking on how they easily could have seen him power up. This wasn't good. He kept messing up and it looked like he'd just continue to mess up. But this he had to fix, just like he had to fix the issue with Bazzite walking off on him.
As he approached the civilian he shook his head slowly. "I can't allow you to leave so easily. Not considering you likely saw me transform." A look over his shoulder was cast to Remarque. This left him with two options and both the other would know. Either kill him or turn him. "I'm not one for killing civilians." This said as his gaze went fro the blond to the dark haired one. To whom he spoke wasn't clear, though perhaps he spoke to both. It was after all a simple statement, not a question which one and only one was supposed to answer.
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Posted: Tue May 07, 2013 8:27 pm
Remarque watched Benitoite with great interest. "No, I can't imagine you'd be the sort." He understood, of course; he had never taken a life, and honestly had no intention of doing so if his own life wasn't on the line.
The wraith hadn't drained the male to death; Remarque figured that was explanation enough for Benitoite's answer if a wraith could kill a person. If they could, he didn't know of it. Even when misbehaving they seemed to leave at least a drop of life left in the person—though he didn't know if this was because they wanted to or because something had spooked them before they could finish the job.
Not wanting to seem too interested—even though he really was—he looked to the General and the male still resting against the wall. Benitoite had basically announced the options, and Remarque would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't eager to know what the General had planned. "What are you going to do with him, then?"
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Posted: Wed May 08, 2013 11:25 am
"I didn't see you 'transform', idiot," he seethed. Was this kid supposed to be some sort of superhero? Did he jump into a phone booth and tug on that bizarre outfit so he can bumble around saving the world, one weird shadowy monster at a time? The whole idea of transformation seemed ludicrous, and the way this boy took it so seriously was downright repulsive. Did he honestly think he was something more than an ordinary human? Cute. Really. He hoped this kid would fall off a building someday, break his neck, and twitch in a pool of his own blood as he slowly realized the repercussions of his foolish charades.
As for the other one, he was beginning to suspect that strange wraith and the mirror were simply parlor tricks. Stunts engineered for the dead of night. He never even got a good look at it, regardless. His body could've simply reacted appropriately to what he was seeing, or he was suffering mild exhaustion from a lack of water and adequate sleep. Even as he mulled over different theories explaining the existence of the beast, he still felt the tiredness. And no matter what he came up with, nothing could sufficiently elucidate the feeling of wrongness surrounding the man who'd captured the monster in a mirror.
Did Shorty here honestly think he could take him in a fight? Not only was he clad in a way that likely restricted movement, but Alois could defend himself rather well. If the kid approached him, all it would take is a knife in the right place and Midget Man would bleed out in thirty seconds at best. It was in the boy's best interest to avoid trying to kill him; perhaps he understood that without having to try. Well, that worked out for the both of them. Alois didn't need murder on his record too.
"Nossing," he spat sharply, glancing from one shot blond to the other, significantly taller blonde. "He'll do nossing wis' me, besides let me leaf'; it's in his own best interest." Didn't these people recognize trouble when they saw it? Alois had already shown marvelous restraint; would all that effort simply fall by the wayside when the dumb blondes decided they had to do away with him? Apparently so.
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Posted: Fri May 10, 2013 11:21 pm
Slate hues turned from Remarque to the civilian and a fine brow arched at the others words. "And I'm expected to trust your words? That you wouldn't go to the press with what you saw?" He questioned cooly. It wasn't a risk he could or would take. He couldn't let anyone find out who he was from day to night. Even if he could he wouldn't. While he doubted his mother would have an issue with his actions she would mother hen him, his father want to make sure he was coping mentally, it was everyone else he didn't want knowing. He wasn't ashamed of what he did but he simply didn't need senshi as civilians coming after him or other harassment, not to mention the scenes in school and elsewhere it could cause. No, it simply was not a risk he was willing to take and he wasn't willing to simply believe someones word.
Stepping up to Alois he turned his head, perhaps a stupid move, to look at Remarque. "I'm not fond of the idea of killing civilians. They are the innocent ones in all of this - one reason I fight. So it leaves me with only one option - not that I wish to commit such an act." One hand, his right one, came to rest on his chest as the right hand held it there as if he was hugging his right hand and arm. And really it was more of him not wanting to do what he was about to, and remembering so strongly what he'd so recently with this same hand. Would he mess up again? Would he make another monster?
As he gave a heavy sigh he dropped his right hand to his side and turned to Alois. "I do apologize. But this is a case of wrong place and wrong time...and my own carelessness." He would admit to his own shortcomings, whenever they did crop up, and right now he was admitting to his own actions of risking his cover. "But I'm afraid you won't be leaving here." And he moved rather quickly as he came into the others personal space. Looking to take him by surprise and as gently, and quickly, as he could press his hand into the other. Benitoite couldn't afford to let the other attack him before he could do this, so he hoped to act fast and accomplish what he was setting about doing - what he had to do.
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Posted: Mon May 13, 2013 10:03 pm
Remarque's interest in the civilian only piqued; he couldn’t tell if that was an accent or of the male had just been out drinking too late and was just trying to stumble home. A drunkard, then, would certainly be less risky to reveal any sort of identity should Benitoite's have been compromised, though Remarque couldn't have imagined Benitoite had any intention of risking it.
He derived great satisfaction when Benitoite proved him right.
For all intensive purposes, from his standpoint it looked as though the General had reached into his chest and planned to pull out his heart. It was a level of ruthlessness he had not anticipated from Benitoite, so he watched with one raised brow, eyes flicking from the General's hand and the civilian's chest.
At this point there was nothing he could do; Benitoite had been around for longer than him, so he assumed the General was prepared to handle incidents like this. Still, it was interesting, and while he shared the belief that killing innocents was a fruitless endeavor, he watched with great curiosity.
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Posted: Tue May 14, 2013 9:25 am
Kyuseisha no Hikari I think it might be easier if you go after Sleet this time! Sleet Tempest Snape Sorry sleet, but I think it makes more sense if you go next!
What the hell was he going on about? People aren't innocent. No one is innocent. This world is filled with filth and lies, and he's standing in front of a prime example of those facts, preaching about innocents and reasons for fighting? What was he even fighting? It couldn't be those halfassed terrorists he kept hearing about on TV... They couldn't terrorize their way out of their own assholes.
From what he gathered, the man intended to kill him. That was reason enough to stab him a few times between the ribs and slip out of here. He tightened his grip on his knife and deftly thrust it toward the short blonde, but froze in the midst of his attack when the boy's hand went through his ******** chest. The knife clattered uselessly on the ground as he watched the stranger's hand immerse itself up to the wrist beneath his skin. It petrified him; was this what it meant to die? Was this it for him?
Cold sweat beaded up on his skin and his breaths came in staccato succession. He didn't dare take his eyes off the man's wrist; if this kid could somehow tear out his heart, he wanted to see if it was black before he died. It seemed an inane thought, completely detached from this harrowing experience, but it seemed fitting in its own ridiculous way. Surely it was no more ridiculous than his current predicament. This could still be a dream...
Until the indescribable agony swept through him, radiating from where the boy's hand was located. It didn't feel like torn skin; it felt like his very bones were liquefying at the boy's behest. Breathing became an impossibility, and thought was far from reachable. He couldn't move, couldn't even process most of the pain that radiated through his body in unrestrained jolts. He lacked even the periodic relief of the unbearable pain being timed to his heartbeat. No, it was sheer, constant torture, and he couldn't possibly sustain it for long.
Maybe it was exhaustion that saved him. It didn't matter; at least he found respite from the pain in his fading consciousness. Soon after the boy removed his hand, he collapsed unceremoniously. His fading sights were of a pair of black boots, highly polished, and extending up the man's leg farther than he could see from his ground-level vantage point. They looked simple, form-fitting, and slightly obscured by the sweeping deep blue fabric of the boy's eclectic outfit. He could almost see himself in the polished leather surface, but it looked like something marred his face - was it blood? He passed out before he could discern what it was.
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Posted: Tue May 14, 2013 10:26 pm
No doubt what he'd just done looked ruthless, at least to those not in the know. And even then perhaps it was still ruthless. But to the blond it was anything but. Right now doing this tore at him. Hurt in a way that surely was worse than anything physical he could be put though - short of his own corruption and subsequent levelings. But he had to get over that and think of the important things. He could let this eat at him later. Let it pile onto the already high pile of issues he had. What was one more thing? He hadn't broken yet, though when would that change? He was close - so close. It was all so much emotionally for him and he was only a teenager. What would happen when he finally broke? When he caved under the emotional turmoil and stresses of just living - of being Benitoite? Where would that leave him and with who or what to pick him up? Would there be anything to help him gain his footing? He sincerely doubted it.
It wasn't because people didn't care, he was sure Jett did and a few others, but who would he unload this all unto and be unfair to by doing so?
The thoughts, for now, were pushed away as he focused on forcing his own brand of darkness into the others starseed. It was painful and he knew it. He was prepared for the screams and possible thrashing, or whatever else may come, and he had yet to even notice that a knife had been at some point pulled on him only to drop to the ground. Perhaps it was good that way, that he didn't know his own life had been in jeopardy. As he focused himself on the task at hand he was surprised when no screams tore at his concentration and tried to shatter his focus. Instead the other seemed...quite aside from some grunting sounds.
As he pulled his hand free he stared as the other fainted, had it really been that bad? He hadn't passed out himself, though he was sure he'd come close to it. It seemed he wouldn't get to see the results of his corrupting of this civilian. And he desperately wanted to see and make sure all had gone well. Bending swiftly he looked to Remarque, slate hued eyes staring unblinkingly at the other blond. "I don't know why he passed out....this has never happened before..." He whispered, worry already setting in and making itself known. Was this a sign that he'd messed up somehow? He hoped not, he desperately hoped not.
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2013 9:22 pm
Remarque had tensed up while watching; it was a gruesome sight, and took a long moment for him to realize that this was not an act of murder, but salvation—in the loosest sense of the word. He wasn't sure whether he respected each Negaverse agent more or if this had only served to repulse him further. They were different on nearly every level—how had they even managed to work together for so long?
"Maybe you were just a bit too rough?" he asked, looking at the male on the ground. Shifting positions, he figured now was as safe a time as any to approach. Crouching next to the male, he planted his fingers on his neck, seeking out a pulse.
He wasn't fully convinced that Benitoite hadn't killed him after that that display, though he relaxed a bit when he thought he felt a steady beat. "Stress might have gotten to him. Do you have like…a hospital you can take him to? General King or something?"
After all of that, they couldn’t just leave him out here like this. "Or take him home with you, I don't know. Get him out of the rain before some knight decides to take advantage of him like this."
Was there protocol for things like this? It seemed a bit more unpleasant than he had anticipated—and again he found himself glad he'd found his home in the Dark Mirror Court instead of the Negaverse.
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