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 Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 12:39 pm
Loitering at the mouth of an alley between two run down buildings, the young woman tweaked the grey hood she had pulled up over her dark hair and eyed the foot traffic with a worried look. No word, no scent, no hint of Matthew... nothing but a great big empty blank spot where a life had been once and now was not. But there was hope... there would always be hope, until Orah saw his lifeless body, and that was why the powered down senshi was here in the city without leave, a small object tucked into her pocket to call for her ride when she needed it.
None of Matthew's old friends had heard anything about the young man and it left Orah with nothing productive to show for this dangerous trip. Nothing but wasted time and effort, though one could argue that every over turned stone that held nothing brought you that much closer to the one that did.
The faces that passed the alley were unfamiliar and strange, each one holding potential to be friend or foe or something inbetween and Orah felt effectively blind powered down... if there were auras around her, she couldn't feel them and part of her mind tried not to dwell on just how many there probably were. The city was over run with chaos, practically oozed it... and here she was, hip deep in it, no protection, little back up... Idiot. Same old mistakes.
Tucking her hands into the pockets of her gray hoody, Orah turned to head down the alley way to the other end and the short jaunt to the abandoned shop where the mirror for travel was hidden. Worn out sneakers scuffed the ground below thread-bare jeans and idly Orah wondered at how her life, how she'd, changed in the last five years. Her past self would probably not even recognize the woman who stood here today, battle-worn and commanding more power than she had ever dreamed of... but just as lost as ever.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 3:38 pm
Bischofite made no secret of his presence anymore.
In the deep throes of night, most knew to mind themselves around the alert presence of the Negaverse regime. When out late, most stayed indoors at bars or friends' houses until the time came to return home, and they dutifully darted toward sanctioned privacy to sleep away the small hours of the morning. And with the increased taxation of energy, fewer still lingered during these late times, when light pollution afforded no room for stars. Idly he considered it a boon to his quality of life - if one could call it such.
The general king walked in a strange gait, one that half-pulled him backward due to wings overwhelmingly heavy. Occasionally he allowed the bone fingers to drag on the ground, scraping for long gouts of tar before he finally lifted his wings from the cement. He continually groaned at any who strayed in his vicinity, eliciting a host of whispers to howls from the faces permanently etched into his tar membrane. In this fashion, he both cemented his unfriendliness toward mankind and retraced his tar-stained steps for a patrol route long memorized. And with each time he traversed the route, each night passed adrift in his own seething thoughts, he found less and less of the loathsome populace that so adored trawling these streets for scraps of entertainment.
Turning down an alley, Bischofite found no sign of human presence beyond filtered light behind slatted shades drawn shut. Occasionally indoor bustles drifted from cracked windows, but passing eavesdrops offered nothing of use to the Negaverse. He doubted it mattered anymore - while some senshi still lived within city bounds, the majority of the populace knew to turn them in out of fear or adoration. He cared not which.
Only when he rounded a corner did he spot a single individual on her way toward the shops at the mouth of the alley. The creature hummed thoughtfully, a smirk settling behind his half mask while he spread tarred wings wide enough to scrape their fingers across both sides of the walkway. From there he approached at his usual sauntering gait. "Citizennnnnnn," he began in a snarl. "Why must you tempt me so? Already you're out afffffter dark and so, so, ssssoooo alone. Don't you know my... Ach, fancyyyy toward starseeds, and yet you offer me some perfect means meeeans to sate zat interest. Show me your face," he breathed, passing his existence from one portion of the alley to the opposite in an instant,
"before I reinvent it for youuuuu." Stooping, the creature peeled away the grey hood covering the girl's face with a practiced delicate touch. And recognition of those dusky features beneath the shadows procured a delighted smile on the creature's face. A thoughtful hum emanated from several portions of him before he elected to cite her name. "Orah, how surprising to see you here... And I sought you were dead. How... disappointing. Well..." Straightening up, Bischofite cocked his head toward her gently, a cool interest settled in his gaze. "I suppose I could remedy zat."
"Start running."
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 4:05 pm
The dark, hissing voice that slithered out of the shadows pulled a stumble from long legs, soon recovered with a new stiffness to the whole as the young woman kept going, trying not to make her increased pace too noticeable.
Damn it... damn it, damn it. It was bound to happen, you knew it would... all that remains is getting out of it, if you can. Brown eyes wide, showing a rim of white, Orah hurried along her way until an imposing form suddenly took its place before her, pulling her up short before she ran into the warped chest with a small sound as she caught her breath. Frozen like a rabbit, she couldn't move as he growled his lust for her starseed and reached for her hood, tugging it back off her head and sending loose strands floating in the night air. Terror seized her as her opponent revealed himself to be all too familiar a figure... one she'd dreamed of numerous times, all ended in clawing her way to wakefulness with a scream. Someone she'd once thought of in a far different light. That man... that man remained only in the abstract in this twisted creature and Orah had no delusions that her face would buy her any good will.
You never really cared about me any way, not beyond the pleasure of the moment... nothing much has changed. Nothing but me.
"Bischofite..." She finally managed past the fear squeezing her vocal chords to silence. Disappointing... Start Running... And she very nearly did, for a half second tensing as though to turn and flee... but no movement came save a straightening of her shoulders, a lifting of her small, rounded chin and brown eyes that took on a shuttered look, an almost imperceptible hardening. Gravel scraped as she pulled herself up and set her feet, a hand sneaking into her front pocket to close around her phone and the button for emergencies.
"No, thank you." She said finally, forcing her voice to a steady tone. "Is this how the Negaverse treats law-abiding citizens these days? I've done nothing wrong for you to bar my way." Alois... But no. She had to stop thinking of him that way. Bischofite, long time enemy, killer of hundreds by his own hands... that was how she had to think of him. The past was buried on Ida, beneath the gracefully curling branches of a silver tree. Buried beside the person she used to be, both of her past lives. I wear my fuku at all times now, Bischofite, even if you can't see it. Ida is stronger than Orah ever was.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 4:27 pm
"Wrong answer." His delight remained on his features while the creature gathered thick gouts of tar, oozing from a surfeit of places along his body - clavicles, hairline, between the ribs, between the metacarpals... Soon Bischofite seeped with hot tar, and a single warped hand darted with powered speed to usurp the girl's nose and mouth. He applied enough pressure to feel the bones start to give beneath his grip, yet refrained from any hairline fractures.
It felt good to express dominance.
"Lisssssssten very carefully, Orah. Ze Negaverse treats you well - treats you kindly, you law-abiding citizens. Ze Negaverse offers you sanctuary from terrorists, it offers you order and routine, it offers you hope to be free of zis war. Yet... I find no reason to treat you in ze same manner. I, a twice-cited wretched abomination wis'in ze ranks foster no interest in protecting you, coddling you while you jeopardize yourselfs in zese conditions. Should you proof' stupid enough to peruse zese alleys so long after dark, it is only a matter of time before ze senshi seize upon you as a weak link, as a potential blackmail victim for zeir nefarious little deeds.
"But that is a Lieeeeeee." Bischofite turned his cemented grip on the girl's face to and fro, studying her otherwise untouched complexion. He leaned closer, breath a brush against her skin with the softest whispers. "I just craf'e excitement. I want to know Chaos again, beyond zese constricting and stifling laws, policies, declarations. And you, Orah, might just gif' zat to me. i want to see your brilliance, dear girl, your creativity and willingness to survif'e. I want to see your best deas' sroes when I crush ze flute of your petulant defiance. You could be somesing beautiful for me, or you could amount to nossing more zan anozzer starseed added to a frivolous collection."
Finally he threw the girl toward the corner of the alley, breaking the thick strands of tar connecting the pair. Afterward he started his advance at a slow gait - wholly purposeful in every measure of movement. "It is your choice, Orah. Lif' or die. But try, of try to it impressivelyyyyyy."
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 4:48 pm
The young woman watched in creeping disgust as black oozed over his skin, welling from his pores and slithering down the pale exterior. She had only a moment to react and human reflexes were far too slow to prevent a taloned hand suddenly clapped to her mouth, searing pain sending off star bursts of light behind her eyes as tar burned into her skin and that horribly powerful hand made her skull grind between his fingers. Before she could stop it, she desperately wrapped her free hand around his wrist, but the tar that covered him meant she only got more burns for her efforts as she squirmed and struggled against his grip.
The tar over her mouth effectively sealed away her cry of pain as dark eyes watered, that hissing voice brushing against her skin as he leaned in close and whispered his twisted words. Everything in me screams to deny you anything you want... but to stay is death. To flee is death that only brings you more delight... there is no way to win this game. Orah desperately tugged at his wrist as she pulled at her head, trying to free herself from his grip... but it was only his own will that released her, a flung arm sending her crashing to the ground in a heap of limbs and pain, skidding over the concrete with his strength.
The young woman frantically scrubbed her face until she could gasp in a breath past the tar still burning its way into her skin and she struggled up onto hands and knees. You should have killed me all those years ago, when your fingers stroked my soul... Saved us both years of circling back around. You will not get a second chance.
Hand went into pocket as the other closed around a handful of dirt and other debri. Thumb hit a speed dialed number as Orah hauled back and flung the cloud of dirt towards where Bischofite's face should be before she darted to her feet and ran... away from the marginally busier streets towards the one that was near abandoned, the shops that stood stark and quiet with their gaping windows and doors. The Dark Mirror Princess should be waiting... gods bless that she wasn't far.
The end of the alley came up fast and the young woman darted to the side, pelting down the sidewalk with all the speed she could muster with her human legs... it felt so slow after so many years of eternal speed.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 5:20 pm
Chariklo had reluctantly ferried Orah into the city. The only thing that had finally convinced her had been Orah's promise to call her phone if she detected even a whiff of trouble. The moment they were through one mirror, Chariklo had headed for a strip of abandoned shops to wait for the return trip.
Keeping to Eternal form for now to help her presence among so many other Chaos signatures, the Dark Mirror waited. And far too soon for her liking, she felt the phone she'd brought along vibrate along to the Beatles 'HELP!'
"Oh ******** me, Ida, what did you fall into," she muttered as she raced towards the street that Orah had gone down. How far she'd gotten before she'd found trouble was a mystery quickly answered as Chariklo caught sight of her running. Smiling, she raced out and saw exactly why Orah was running.
"Oh goddammit, Orah," she shrieked as she rushed to reach the other girl. Without pausing a moment to think about what she was doing, Chariklo concentrated just a tiny bit and felt herself take on her more powerful Princess form in response to the threat that followed Orah.
Bischofite.
Only this Bischofite was something out of her worst nightmares. Swallowing past the dry, sour fear in her throat, Chariklo managed to get between the two, wings spread and looking for all the world as if she'd like nothing better than to kill the Youma King where he stood.
"Back off, Tar b***h," she snarled. "This girl is mine!"
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 7:28 pm
Civilians afforded little challenge in direct combat, he realized long ago, and reinforced that thought with a bend of his wing to shield his face against the torturously slow gesture of sand and earth toward the monster. Most of the detritus stuck into tar, embedding in one of the faces or slowly sinking beneath its long trail, while the remainder deflected off narrow bone. Returning wing to proper place, Bischofite cocked his head to the side with a sigh of mild disappointment while he approached. "Orah, I expected more from you. Here I thought you might find some clever means of securing your own safety. Surprise me, impress me, interest me and you might find some scrap of passage - even if it comes at bodily price."
Idly he considered a tarry of three teeth, yet the blooming, grating drag of a princess aura on his senses caused the creature to lurch backward for a glance at his new company. Initially he expected Leto, the irritating Dark Mirror royal that he intended to entrap many years ago, but this one... Was unexpected, yet wholly welcome to the affair.
"I remember you," he greeted with a growing smile, head bowed to watch the mohawked princess in full behind a half-mask of bone. "Do you remember what I took from you zat day? Her hearttt, I felt it stop beyond ze pressures of my hand in her chesssst. It was delightful, how she fought. Cunning, clever, and ever a treasured memory now. Do you ever sink of her now? Do you still rememberrrrrr her name? Zat one... She sang, you know. She sang and she bled and she choked on her own teeth." The memory of the church tower idled at the forefront of his mind, where he recalled the deep smell of wood mingled with sharp metal. Chariklo found a mirror back then, scurried off with an empty corpse, but promised her own brand of revenge.
Finally he started his slow approach toward the princess, eyes darting between easy slips of skin between her uniform and the large feathered wings far too similar to those he knew at his own back. "And why is she so special to you, Princess? Is she anozzer of your broken dolls? Tell me how she struck out a spot inside your wretched heart and I mightttt release her to you. After exacting a fee, of course." Lacing his fingers together, he pulled them taught over his sash while he leveled his gaze to the brilliant fires of Chariklo's eyes.
Yet he had no intentions of hearing her response.
Another spatial shift left him directly at the princess's back, and he spread his own wings in hopes of entangling hers in the hot tar. In that very movement, he reached a second time for Orah, who now lay hopelessly entangled in viscous pain and helplessness.
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Posted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 10:05 pm
Interest you... because I was always so good at that. Orah's heart beat loud in her ears as she ran and a welcome sight appeared out of the abandoned buildings, a black-suited senshi who grew wings even as she put herself between the young woman and her pursuer... risking her own skin for a mistake that wasn't of her own choosing.
Unable to abandon the woman, Orah spun to watch, breathless and aching as Bischofite and Chariklo greeted each other with anger and bad blood... something about a death. Chest heaving, face burning, Orah watched with wide eyes until the general teleported behind the princess and pressed their wings together, fouling her with the tar he oozed.
I have to do something... some distraction, so we can make a run for it. She thought, her mind racing desperately. What interests you, any more? Once, I might have been able to catch your eye with something other than death and pain... but... maybe I can use that need against you...
As Bischofite reached for her, Orah had already grabbed for the zipper of her hoody and ripped it down, and she pushed herself into the general-king's reach, getting up close to him. It was a risk, but just maybe... Tar sticky hands grabbed the dipping neckline of her t-shirt and she pulled it lower, exposing the curves of her chest and the delicate celtic knot inked into her skin.
"Let her go, Alois... I'm who you wanted, aren't I? I'm tired of running away from you. You wanted my starseed, right? Then take it... You know every inch of me, but this one, so come and see that last guarded piece." She said low and urgently, her voice clipped and tight. Orah challenged him with her eyes, hoping Chariklo would catch on to what she was planning and be ready for it. They were only going to get one shot at this, and then she'd have no tricks left.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 5:48 am
"I remember everyone who leaves," Chariklo answered in a deceptively soft voice, quoting an old kid's movie. Though her voice may have been quiet, anger and hate radiated out of her. Eyes narrowing, she watched the Youma King carefully as he spoke, trying hard to not shiver and bolt.
And just when she would have opened her mouth to tel him exactly where he could go, he'd teleported to the space just behind her and she felt hot tar oozing onto her wings, burning the delicate feathers and the skin under them. Hissing, she staggered forward, desperate to get away before she was nothing more than a ball of tar.
Teleporting son of a b***h! She knew he could teleport, so how did she manage to keep forgetting that very important fact?
Even as she tried to move away, she turned just in time to see Orah offering up her starseed to the monster. What in the screaming gay blue hell...? Eyebrows shooting up into her hairline, Chariklo made a mental note to question Orah later about her words. But not right now. Bischofite might be distracted enough to ignore Chariklo in favor of Orah.
Thinking quickly, she tested her wings. Tarred, but not whole enveloped by the stuff. They wouldn't let her fly, but she could glide. Oh, this was going to be tricky... Crouching, Chariklo closed her eyes. She had one chance to save herself and Orah. She couldn't ******** this up.
Leaping straight up into the air, she gave her wings one strong pump to give herself a tiny bit more altitude than what normal senshi strength could provide. Let Tar b***h think she was running. Once she'd reached the peak of her jump she let her body curve backwards and folded her wings tight to her body. Keeping herself as streamlined as possible, she counted down seconds.
"Oy!," she yelled, hoping to grab just enough of the Youma King's attention to cause him to look up. "Told ya once, b***h Boy. She's mine!"
The moment he tilted his head up, Chariklo's fist was moving.
"Chariklo Princess Punch!"
Only then did she snap her wings out, grabbing clumsily for Orah and all the while praying that what glide her wings could provide would be enough to carry them both just far enough to have a running head start. Because, holy s**t, Bischofite was gonna be pissed.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 8:32 pm
Her offering marked an intimate knowledge of starseeds both recognized and heeded with a special fervor. Bischofite reached outward toward the girl, intent on plucking the sole fruit within her garden and tasting what flesh it offered him - whether willing or not. Yet, as he reached toward the celtic knot inscribed over her sternum, a strange glow peeled out into his vision, temporarily obscuring his sight with a brilliance that both stunned and repelled the Youma King a veritable couple feet.
Before the realization of the full extent of what transpired struck him, a fist offered by the Dark Mirror Princess nigh rendered him unconscious when it collided with the back of his skull. Unable to brace himself in time, the creature slammed into the floor with enough force to break the beak off his mask and crack one of its eye sockets before his inertia petered out in a series of tumbles. Now lying prostrate in a rumpled heap beyond the path of tar, Bischofite seethed in wholesale revulsion for the pair before he stirred to his feet.
Oh, how little she knew the opportunities provided by his fall.
"b***h Boy," he repeated in emotionless tones while he straightened to his feet. "You'd haf' me sound like Natron, Princess Chariklo. How..." Drawing a breath, a few gasps trailed his own. "Disappointing. Fine - take her. Whisk away your dusky trophy to zose tawdry little confines beyond ze mirror. Carry your transcended senshi to safety, to solace - until Chaos itself devours every last corridor of Mirrorspace and leaves your wretched ******** kind choking on our chaff. I'm waiting, girl."
Yet Bischofite embarked on a rapid series of teleportations despite his indications toward capitulation. In each round, he landed in varying distances forming a vague circle pattern about the pair, leaving a thick portion of tar in each location as he departed.
Finally he ceased his movements, taking a stand in a thick pool but a few feet from the pair. "But worry not, Orah, for I will touch ze very core of you in darker ways." Before the smirk fully graced his face, the creature bent backward until he nearly paralleled the ground, where his bone wings soon dipped into the tar. While buried in concentration, each finger jutted up from the surface of nearby pools in quick succession, forming a ripple of spires pooling out from his central location.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 9:18 pm
The reach of dark, twisted hands made Orah's skin crawl up her spine, goosebumps raising along her arms until contact... and then light exploded from her chest, the knot glowing as power surged up and repelled the General-King with enough force to actually knock him back a few steps. Perfect... he had taken the bait and as she had expected, her transcendence had protected her and Chariklo, beautiful princess, she had been prepared and the young woman threw her arms up to catch hold in return as princess wings carried them away down the street. Brown eyes strayed to the crumpled form and she could find only little pity for the creature they had left behind, easily buried under the adrenaline needed for fleeing.
"Mirror... gogogogo...." Orah gasped out, sneakers were already moving when they hit the ground and she pelted for the gutted store front she had been aiming for from the beginning... Faded and cracked lettering across the front naming the former Farah's Garden, now abandoned and empty, full of rubble and broken glass where once love and a family had grown in peace. Epicenter of what had made Orah who she was, foundation of her past... The front door stood like a gaping maw, ringed with splinters of what was left of its glass and Orah ran for it, past the pools of tar that appeared behind Bischofite's rapid teleportations.
There was something strange going on here, she could feel it in her bones... why had he not simply appeared before her and made another grab? He'd shown that a favorite tactic in the past... why wait back there, spitting out his bitter bile? The sudden movement from the tar pits, the spires that rose from them, pulled a squeak of fear from the young woman and she darted through the empty door, racing for the display cases in the middle of the shop. Floor to ceiling, their front doors ripped aside, all that remained of use in this shop was the great panes of mirror that had once reflected the bright colors of flowers.
"Chariklo!" Orah called desperately, reaching for the Dark Mirror Princess in preparation of their travel through the mirror. They had to hurry... there was no telling what those spires of tar were going to do. Later, she could ponder the ramifications of giving away her transcendence to the enemy.
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Posted: Tue Aug 05, 2014 6:58 am
Her wings, indeed, provided just enough glide to get them a decent distance from the fallen Bischofite. Chariklo had stumbled slightly as her legs took the impact of their landing before shifting into full panic mode. Seizing Orah's wrist, she pelted for the row of abandoned shops, forcing herself to not look behind. It was bad enough seeing the flicker of the Youma-King's teleporting all around them. Bad enough to have to dodge the tar pools he left in his wake.
Truly bad enough to hear his words. Please, she thought, don't let me have just doomed every Dark Mirror out there doing this.
Chariklo stumbled again as Orah now took the lead and pulled her along.
"Yes," she gasped right back. "Must go faster!"
For a brief second, she let go of Orah, turning her head to watch Bischofite as he stopped only feet away, trying to figure out what he was doing. She was vaguely aware of Orah dashing into a ruined florist shop. Pausing in the broken doorway, Chariklo watched as Bischofite bent backwards, wondered what it meant and then watched in horror as spires of tar rose up and rippled towards them.
She would have frozen completely had it not been for Orah's frantic cry. Eyes wide with fear, she turned and bolted for her friend. Practically tackling Orah, she picked the dark girl up and raced headlong for the mirrored panels, closing her eyes and flinging the both of them into the mirror.
The coolness of the mirror seemed to envelop them and Chariklo heard herself muttering waspishly, "Orah, if he kills us, I am finding a way to haunt your ******** ghost."
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 12:50 pm
The creature groaned in an atrocious haze of voices while he watched the pair vanish into the mirror, shortly thereafter cracked by the thick spires shooting out of the tar pools. He watched with some measure of interest as a few of the shards clattered to the ground ineffectually, and the apparitions in their reflection soon faded altogether. He raised a warped hand to his now-cracked half-mask, tracing out the fresh break where he once knew a long beak extending from his nose. Another deep crack traced from eye socket to the base of the mask, and it widened as he snarled. The tar adhering the mask to his face slowly oozed from beneath the crack, forming a thick gout of tar that finally dripped from his chin.
"First Quenton, now Orah..." Bischofite smiled, mirthless, his teeth pearly next to blackened tar. "So it seems my fortunes know surprise. It will be wis' great joy, old friends, zat I abscond wis' ze last of your breas' when tar knows ze last desperate inches of your bodies. If nossing else, Orah, you know ze desperate memories you long abandoned when Farah's Garden became zis desolate heap." Now tell me why you were out here. A Transcended... What would they need in this useless, rotten portion of the city? Perhaps I am addressing the wrong angle, for Orah often used her heart long before she used her head.
And as a Transcended... Surely, oh so surely, she wasn't looking for Alois.
"And Chariklo... One day we will know ze annals of Mirrorspace, whezzer obtained srough cooperation of ze smarter half of your allies. In time, I will find a way to poison every last one of you - for ze Mirror itself offers a great connection to your insipid little children. Perhaps I'll see you hung highest in ze trees, Traitor.
"Iscariot."
He laughed, ever closer to a strangled scream.
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