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 Posted: Tue Jul 30, 2013 12:56 pm
Ever since Eufemia Genoveva, former Cuchillo of the Cuatro Eapada, took command as the Juala, more commonly known as the Cero/ Diez Espada, the place has been going through many major projects to make the place suited to her tastes.
In the last seven years of hiatus in Hueco Mundo, the Juala took it upon herself to renovate and restore the cell to her own dream of perfection. The dreary sand and monochromatic colors of the world of the Arrancar did not suit a woman such as she; however, High Clark would not allow her to do anything too grand outside the tower, but the interior of her tower was as the woman herself: the walls are covered with creeping vines of blooming roses, all of a magnificent color of bold red; the floors leading to Eufemia's private chambers covered with a slight carpet of verdant green grass; her habitation an inversion of an outdoor garden, with the wilderness kept indoors, and the simplicity of colors outside.
Her private chamber was a sight to see, for all those lucky to bask upon it. The ground covered in green, green grass, the walls overrun by leaves and flowers, everything looked wild--except for her bed. The bed of the Juala was quite grand in its size: a lovely frame of stark white color, engraved with little swirls and spirals which have no meaning whatsoever, a pure white canopy draped carelessly, upon a westernized mattress of awesome size, the sheets were all white, the pillows all white. It was like a little piece of heaven drifted down from its place above the clouds, to rest in the room of the majestic butterfly woman.
The bed juxstaposed the air of the room, and is the only piece of furniture descernible by the casual guests, and victims in the room; however, its use was the only one needed when Eufemia visits her own chambers. There was no need for other pieces of carved wood for what she does.
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Posted: Tue Jul 30, 2013 7:30 pm
XXXxxH i g hxxxxC l a r kxxXXX
" A tyrant must give himself over to some greater power, such as a religion, in order to remain in power... "
╬═════════════════════════════════════════╬ High had sonido'd all the way from his Dark Tower, which after all of these years remained much the same, into Eufemia's room. Directly into her chambers, without even knocking. Like any King, he could just waltz around where ever the hell he wanted, and right now... High had a mission. Looking upon the grassy enclosure that the Juala had built within her sanctum, High gave a small sound of disgust, letting his lips curl across his teeth in a frown. Such natural beauty was disturbing to a King of the Desert; where towering tree's made of quartz and the sand that clung to one's skin was the norm. In a Wasteland such as the one high ruled, the small Oasis of green and red and other such colors perturbed him, and almost made him angry. How dare she show what little she thought of his world by creating her own within it? How dare she pervert the desert into something nice, where instead of feeling the crunch of dust under one's boots, you felt grass underfoot? It was disgusting, and with the frown still gracing his lips, High dug the heel of his boot into the grass. Maybe he could kill some while he was here.
With a sudden shout, " Eufie! " high lambasted the silent room. He caught sight of her bed. The white canopy was like a cloud among the natural setting, the sterile white even more unnatural in the unnatural stage. She was probably there, sleeping her little day away, using sleep to keep sleep at bay. High made a note of sending hollow laden with sand later, just to mess with the woman. " Where the hell are my pants! I know you have them! " He shouted, louder this time, and letting his hands clench.
Besides the fact this woman had a pair of his pants somewhere in the room, the disgusting amount of life was wearing on High's temper. The light, gentle fuse he had was just about gone from merely standing there in the grass enclosure, the smell of roses prickling his nose. No! It was wrong! Disgusting! Stupid! How could this crap even grow here?! ╬═════════════════════════════════════════╬
" Mine happens to be slaughter. "
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Posted: Wed Jul 31, 2013 11:47 pm
♚ pooє υ ғ є м ι α xxx ɢ є и o v є v αonu ♚
▪ ▪ ԼΛ ЕЅΡΛDΛ DЕ ЈՄΛԼΛ ▪ ▪
"Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect."
_______________________________________________________________________ Nothing stirred in the garden of the butterfly, not even the Arrancarian man next to her on the bed: half naked, underwear on, flanks covered by the light fabric, white sheets of the woman's bed, whereas the woman beside him was in her birthday suit beneath the covers, a little potion of her side cleavage to be seen. Eufemia Genoveva's eyes opened to reveal a pair of sparkling, blue sapphire colored eyes. Her day was going swimmingly, so far. It seemed it would stay that way as well. With a smile pasted on her face, the woman scooted her way closer to the man who she just spent a few lust filled hours with, and wrapped an emotionally detached arm around his chest. The Juala had a tendency to play around with all sorts of men in her free time, and in the past seven years, that was all she had: leisure time. Feeling at ease with the environment, the butterfly closed her eyes complacently just as the door to her chambers burst open with a loud bang.
Eufemia didn't even have to look and see who the intruder was to know, and realize who it was. The King of Hueco Mundo has come into her room to grace her day. The male beside her woke up in a fluster, his face befuddled as he rose up from his peaceful slumber, only to find that he was basking in the King's presence. The woman looked at the man, who in a flurry of white and black, left her alone in her bed just as quickly as he came. A giggle escaped the butterfly's lips, as she lethargically, yet seductively picked herself up off of the bed. "Oh Clark, you scared the man," a playful pout from the woman, and she sat upright on the bed, not bothering to cover herself up from the man who already seen every visible part of her body.
"What brings you--" She started, but was interrupted by his yelling, which only grew louder with each syllable. Eufemia duly noted High's annoyance to the liveliness of her room, which he was so adamantly opposed to. Of course, he didn't think that a butterfly would live under such barren, arid areas of desolation, did he? Butterflies live in verdant, green meadows where the flowers blossom and the trees bear fruit, with only the soft sounds of the winds' movements through grass as its silent tune. "Can I get dressed, first?" asked Eufie, not waiting for a moment about what his answer would be as she stood from her spot and picked up estranged pieces of clothing, mostly hers anyway, off the ground.
She slipped on her usual, skin tight body suit, as well as her thigh high boots, and left the comfort of her bed to seek what she was supposed to have given him years ago. "Earlier this week, I looked for you to give you back your pants, but of course, I couldn't find you anywhere," Eufemia conveyed, moving apart a large cluster of potted plants to reveal a large trunk, filled with Eufemia's clothes, as well as the infamous pair of Clark's pants. "I found your right hand though. She scares me. I think she is obsessed with you or some sort. Not in the cute way either. I feel she would have done something with your pants if I left them with her, so I kept them knowing she'd tell you sooner or later." As Eufie rummaged, she found the familiar shade of High's pants near the bottom of her own stacks of clothing, with a hard tug, she pulled it from its place and cradled it in her arms.
"You should give her the D." Eufemia commented as she handed the pants over to Clark.
"Now what do you say, King?" The butterfly goaded, closing the gap between she and High with a step. They were now chest to chest, and Eufemia was looking up at the tall, masculine man. "You could always let me take advantage of that anger of yours, and take you to bed to palliate it," she said with a sultry smirk. Currently, the woman was in the mood, and her hands just wanted to rip the pants right off his waist. Her lust was not satiated, and whether it was High or not, it didn't matter who her bad partner was.
_______________________________________________________________________
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Posted: Thu Aug 01, 2013 2:58 am
XXXxxH i g hxxxxC l a r kxxXXX
" A tyrant must give himself over to some greater power, such as a religion, in order to remain in power... "
╬═════════════════════════════════════════╬ The male Eufie had spent her time with didn't waste a moment in retreating from the King's presence. Goddamn coward, the guy was. He didn't bother to even bow before High, offering his fealty as per usual. High would have expected anything, possibly a bow of the head or something. It was disgusting, how cowardly his people were at times, especially when faced with him. Frowning more as Eufie roused herself, High crossed his arms in front of his chest. " You have such odd interests in men. Can't even chose a viable male with an actual personality. " High rolled his eyes, using the moments that Eufie was dressing herself to distract himself from the conditions just around him.
It was irritating. Disgusting. How dare she break his kingdom's monotony in such a way. The fool. He listened to her as she delved into the trunk, and carefully watched her movements. She was like a dainty little flower, in the desert filled with brutes and brashness. There was no beauty outside of this room, and High preferred it that way. His crossed arms, frowning lips, and narrowed eyes would send waves of irritation to the woman, his body language acting as the conduit for his displeasure. " Sanijishi has a broken mind. There is nothing I can do. " High looked down at one of his hands, inspecting the nails as he continued. " She can do nothing more than offer her complete obedience to whoever holds the most power at one point in time. " Taking the pants into his hands, and folding them gently, High looked back to Eufemia. His frown hadn't gone away. " I fear she is a lesbian. There won't be any gifting her the D. " He said contemptuously. Sanijishi was an enigma, and to tell the truth, one of the only reason's High kept her around was because of her odd brand of crazy. She had power, yes, but only a truly crazy woman could survive in Hueco Mundo for long.
Eufemia came close enough that her scent filled his nose. She still smelled the same, even after all of this time. Rolling his eyes, High brought a free hand up, and placed his palm flat against the top of Eufie's chest. He could feel her heartbeat through the skin of his palm, and with his frown ever deepening, High pushed Eufie hard enough to send her towards her bed, possibly trip her, and send her careening into her own sheets. High let his eyebrows knit together as he watched her forced away. " No. " He said simply, beginning to turn away. " You're nothing more than a lovesick little girl, looking for someone to put a bandaid on that little broken heart, am I right? " High teased lightly. " You don't want me, nor any other man in my entire kingdom. Admit it woman, you are still in love with the man who taught you everything you know. " High gave a small chuckle.
" Please yourself to thoughts of his. Thoughts of my Dead Cuatro. Imagine Locura could actually love you, and that he wasn't a mere emotionless genius. Think about all the fun you two could have had, him pounding into you without remorse. " High lowered his voice to a whisper. " But he isn't dead, is he? " High gave another chuckle, laughing and laughing away. ╬═════════════════════════════════════════╬
" Mine happens to be slaughter. "
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Posted: Fri Aug 02, 2013 1:03 am
♚ pooє υ ғ є м ι α xxx ɢ є и o v є v αonu ♚
▪ ▪ ԼΛ ЕЅΡΛDΛ DЕ ЈՄΛԼΛ ▪ ▪
"Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence– whether much that is glorious– whether all that is profound– does not spring from disease of thought– from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect."
_______________________________________________________________________ A hand was placed in between Eufemia's bosom, as High quickly rejected her offer to play. Of course, the woman already knew that she would not be successful in her endeavors at trying to bed the King, but there was no harm in trying, right? However, she never thought that he would literally push her away from him physically and hard too. A smirk appeared on the butterfly's own face as she looked back at High with contempt. His mood was not usually so sour, nor did he ever have to resort to action to keep Eufemia's passes at bay. But more often than not, his lips said no, but his body cried yes, just not now.
The woman fell back into the comfort of her mattress as the back of her legs made contact with the material, yet Eufie still made herself look just as graceful, falling down in the cloud of white sheets. As High spoke, turned away from his subject of mental anguish, the butterfly could only keep herself composed on the comforts of her bed, where the man could not see the frown on Eufemia's happy-go-lucky physiognomy. Her blue eyes sparkled with tears as the thought of Locura's image reappeared in her mind. The day he died, was the day her heart ultimately froze over. The scene played out in her mind once more: The Cuatro's tower, where the scientist still worked relentlessly at something High requested, was blown into smithereens by foreign attackers. The woman remembered looking back at the exploding tower, and almost fainting at just the realization of what happened. So close was she from leaving her post, but High whispered solely to her that she would be punished greatly if she were to go and aid the Cuatro. "Not even Locura could survive that blast," was what the King conveyed to her through headset.
If Locura would actually love her? That would be a dream come true would it not? But, truly out of place of her. Eufemia was only fond of watching the man-- never ever could she taint such pure genius with a contaminated body like hers. She wasn't worthy of being a couple with Locura, even if the possibility arose, nor would she let it happen. She could only imagine herself staring at the scientist from a distant, caring and cradling the affection she felt towards him to herself. Eufie didn't need to burden a man of science with such illogical feelings of love, or of any other emotion. Never.
"Do not belittle a woman's feelings, High," said Eufemia, the deep and sultry undertones of her voice more prominent than ever. "My feelings for Locura is none of your business: dead or alive, he still lives in my thoughts. Do not taint my vision of him and associate them with lust." A sigh left her lips, as she picked herself up from the sheets, only to watch High's back as he laughed away at her pain. "I could not bring myself to bed him, even if the occasion called for it."
"At least I have something to love, and you? What do you seek, King? Being an insatiable, immature ruler of a kingdom must have its disadvantages am I right? You have everything, yet you still want more. You can never be satisfied with what you have. Why is that? Your sins far exceed my own. Your lust, your greed, pride, sloth, envy, wrath, gluttony? You are searching for something, are you not?" Eufemia stood up from her sitting position and neared High.
"You're too cruel, High..." The butterfly's voice broke mid-sentence, as the tears started cascading down her rosy cheeks. The sound of her sobs filled the room with melancholy.
_______________________________________________________________________
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Posted: Fri Aug 02, 2013 9:55 pm
XXXxxH i g hxxxxC l a r kxxXXX
" A tyrant must give himself over to some greater power, such as a religion, in order to remain in power... "
╬═════════════════════════════════════════╬ High listened intently, the smile on his lips spreading ever wider. Eufie was a sassy little girl, and High had definitely hit a nerve with the bit about Locura. The scientist and High were very close in their days together; they would often compare notes, things privy to one another that were secrets to others. High knew Eufemia had fallen in love with her superior long before Locura made mention of it; after all the scientist was hardly in touch with his own feelings. What would a small woman's be to his own? There was no chance even the greatest of Eufie's wiles could do a thing to the rock hard bravado that was Locura's psyche.
High couldn't help but chuckle, turning once more to face the woman on his way out. Emotional torture of this sort was the thing that High reveled in, and he wouldn't give the chance up. His eyes glinted darkly as he spurned upon the woman, the full force of his gaze and his anger upon her. Sure, he was mad, and this was the perfect way to release it.
" Cruel? Heh, puny woman. You have no idea how deep the abyss that is my heart extends. I have no remorse rounding upon the foolhardy way you pinned upon my most trusted subordinate. You were not the only one to mourn a man you loved. Even if I loved him in a different way, " high smiled, turning his own unkempt feelings into the fray. Locura was a great man, and High loved him like a brother to say the least. Eufie knew nothing compared to him. " You didn't know the true story of Locura, did you? Forced from his home as a hollow by a tyrant, the very one I stole the Throne out from under. Domon the Black Tiger of Hueco Mundo... That man turned Locura into the beast he truly is, and my reign turned his talents into something that could assuage the pain he felt for that harm. " High tossed hair from over his head, tucking it behind his ear with a smirk. " you didn't love him, did you? " High teased, poking at already frayed nerves. " You loved the idea of him. The idea that there was no way you could have him... " High moved closer, still speaking until he was nearly upon the woman. His Juala would be cringing beneath his harsh and angry gaze. " You loved that you couldn't hold him, and even if you could, you knew that there wouldn't be warmth in that embrace. There would be no life beneath that hard metallic carapace, no pulse in those arms, nor a spark off affection behind those eyes. " High sneered with glee.
" You never loved him, not like I did, and I know it. I know your type. " High smiled even wider. It was now crazed, his hair having splayed with how he had tucked his hair behind his ear. The bone earring shone brightly in the light filled room. " You loved not him, but the idea of him. And when that idea was taken from you, you sought the outlet of affection that you wished from that idea. You ******** every man you could get your hands on. " High reached out a hand swiftly, without letting the woman pull away. He was that fast. An arm wrapped around Eufie with a sudden strength, before reaching around, and gripping her backside with a firm fury. If the woman had been turned on before. the sudden domination would do wonders. " I was the first on your list. The man holding every ounce of power in this realm. I taught you a portion of my skills, and you were left in awe, am I correct? Even after gifting you with the power of a second release, the unbridled ease with which my unreleased form trounced your own power astounded you, correct? your poison was left wanting, as was your body. You could do nothing but beg before me..." high's grip tightened, becoming painful, before it was released. High chose that precise moment to pull away from her, leaving her body aching and wanting. " I was in control. You could do nothing after the hurt of having the object of your desire broken. I destroyed you. " High smiled.
He looked deep into her eyes, smiling. " You are a fool, Juala. Be happy I keep you around, and that I put up with you at all. Your lands are a disgrace to mine eyes, as are your actions. " his hand cupped her cheek gently. " Even now you beg for me. Even now you look back at your days as Locura's Cuchillo. And you are left wanting, yes? " High then chose to drop the bomb. The secret he had been hiding within his body for seven long years, feeding the capsule within his very soul. " What would you do if I were to say the man you love, the idea you love...still lived? " ╬═════════════════════════════════════════╬
" Mine happens to be slaughter. "
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