|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2015 6:08 pm
It was a cool, crisp autumn night. Enough leaves had fallen from the trees to crunch beneath Mont Blonc's feet as he walked through the park, savoring the smell of the air. He'd spent most of the day pleasantly, skirting the pressure of midterms in favor of watching silly movies on Netflix with Auguste, and tonight the plan was to patrol with Aegir, then probably to meet up with Methone - or Nadia, depending on how late it was - relax, have some hot drinks, enjoy each other's company.
Even with the knowledge that Archer was still close by, there but unseen, texts going ignored, and in spite of the knowledge that Ploutonion was still trapped in the clutches of the negaverse as their pawn, he was still happy. He didn't think he'd ever been this happy before, really. No, things weren't perfect, but the things closest to him, the things that really mattered, they were... they'd never been better.
(And in some ways - he didn't feel as useless anymore. And maybe, just maybe that was the most important thing of all.)
He paused, briefly, the powerful aura of a general prickling at his senses. Mont Blonc drew a short, sharp breath, and considered it, but instead bowed his head and continued walking, faster now. Aegir. He'd tell Aegir he sensed it when they met up, and maybe they could double back and do something together.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 31, 2015 2:09 pm
The irony of things all falling into place, was that eventually they all had to come crumbling down again. The general trailing the mid ranged power level didn't know who it was. Didn't know that his life had just started to run smoothly. She didn't care, really. She'd felt him, an easy mark, and she'd started to follow. When it had become clear they were moving away from her, she'd pursued in earnest, because what beast didn't love a good chase? And it was a chase because she allowed it to be one. Instead of teleporating she followed on foot, heels smacking against the concrete along the path in the park in a forceful staccato. He would hear her, eventually, as that gap started to close, and if he ran, so would she, and she was considerably faster. "Where are you going~" Sing song and taunting, she could see his back now as she strode along after him. Familiar, in a way, she got the feeling she'd seen him somewhere else before, but staring at the back of his head didn't give her any answers. "Are you scared?" She could almost smell it in the air. "Why are you running away?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 31, 2015 4:56 pm
The power signature was getting closer. A chill that was not at all to do with the cold traveled up and down Mont Blonc's spine, and he tried - maybe not running, but walking faster, faster, until he was on the brink of a flat out run. Perhaps it was his imagination. Perhaps it was coincidence. Perhaps he could get to Aegir before anything and -
The sound of his pursuer was quieter at first, but quickly grew louder, the steady sound of heels clacking rolling in his head.
Finally, a voice.
It was a familiar voice, and he stopped dead without thinking, taken back to the train station, to Ploutonion with his fearful eyes, a much smaller woman toying with his braid and sing-songing out, just the same as now, 'Ploutonion, please...'
The squire turned, his eyes wide. His heart pounded hard in his chest. Oh god.
"It's you," he said in a voice that was soft, breathless, disbelieving. By impulse, his hand moved to clutch his other, to clutch at his sigil ring, ready to trigger his magic.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2015 3:30 pm
It's you. The squire turned, and thrill of anticipation slithered it's way up the general's spine as she met those wide, fearful eyes. A delicious reaction that had her grinning at him, a delightful laugh bubbling up from dark lips as she continued to close the distance between them. Slower now, since he'd finally stopped running from her. "It's me," she confirmed, voice a honeyed purr. Small hand coming up to tuck a long length of dark purple behind the curve of an ear. "And it's you." The woeful, pathetic squire that had clung to Ashanite on the platform, begging and pleading. "You don't look very happy to see me." Terrified, actually, and didn't the general just love that. "Are you going to whimper and whine for the return of your friend some more? Grovel and beg?" Closer and closer. Unless he backed away from her come to stop only a foot away from him, pale arms crossing loosely to cradle her chest. Barely contained violence in petite and pretty packaging. "He's not going back, you know." Delicate features were smug. "I'd wager he's quite happy in his current situation." Her grin widened, lids dipping as she tipped her head up to him. "Always so eager to please." One hand came up, fingertips curling against the side of her cheek before an idea seemed to come to her. She made a small 'ah' sound, pointing at the taller man as she took another small step towards him, the tip of her finger poking him in the chest. "If you really miss him, I've got an amazing idea." Another poke, still soft, still taunting. "How about we just corrupt you as well? Then you'll have your friend back." Xenotime thought this was a splendid idea. "It'll be my little gift for a job well done."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2015 4:05 pm
His heart was pounding loud in his own ears, slow and steady at first like the beating of a drum, increasing in speed the closer she came - he did not step backwards, because in that moment, if only for a moment, his legs felt like lead. What good would it do him to just turn and run? No, no, he had to think -
No, no, act.
Think.
Act.
She was so much smaller than him as she stood before him, even with his shoulders hunched in their usual way, but it did nothing to set him at ease. Mont Blonc had not seen what she was capable of, but he could feel power and menace radiating off of her like s furnace.
Happy? In spite of his own fear, Mont Blonc's eyes narrowed just a fraction, the yellow steeling for even just a breath because no, that face he made before you took him back, those bruises aren't the mark of a happy man, you did this to him you -
Her finger prodded his chest and he flinched in reflex, wanting to bat her hand away - he remembered too well what had happened the last time someone from the negaverse had plunged their hand into his chest, maybe not the act itself but the pain that'd followed, and he'd seen what it could do through Ploutonion and -
Corrupt you as well.
The squire's blood turned to ice. His eyes widened. No, no, that wasn't - they weren't supposed to - oh god. "No, " he spat out, probably as forcefully as Lorne Benoit had ever said anything in his life, jolting back away from her as though she were made of fire. Without batting an eye, he triggered the magic of his ring and whirled, making a bid to slip into the shadows and make a hasty escape.
Quote: ASPECT OF SATURN: As servants of the planet of death, the ghost-like demeanor of Saturn Knights is incredibly fitting. They always appear somewhat cast in shadow and their movements are completely silent, making them masters of stealth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 12:47 pm
Such fun reactions he gave her. She ate it up, every flinch, every subtle shift of his eyes from anger to fear. It was beautiful to her, so raw and real. An addicting mix that she sought out again and again and again. A soft tsk when he'd twitched beneath her touch, the start of some soothing sound before he was jerking back away from her touch, voice raised in loud protest. Just one word, but it carried the weight of panic behind it. She was moving before she'd even realized what he was doing, and that was probably why she managed to grab a handful of his shirt on the first lunge, dragging him off balance just as the magic sweep over him in a dark cloak. "I don't think so." It wouldn't be that easy for him. Turning, the general planted her other hand against his stomach, lifting the tall squire off his feet entirely before flipping him around to slam his back into the concrete. Not as hard as she could, but enough to stun, at the least. "Where do you think you're going, sweetheart? We're not done yet." Some people were just so rude, trying to walk away in the middle of a conversation. "Where are your manners?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 1:44 pm
The squire's chest had tightened in muted panic when he felt that fist curl into his shirt, and some part of him had hoped against all rational thought that maybe he'd be able to pull away from her. That maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough he could still just slip away. Not that he underestimated her, but - some part of him had hoped maybe his height would work to his advantage, even just this once, coupled with his magic. That it would give him enough of an edge to be able to get away.
It didn't.
Her hand held faster, tighter than he could have expected, and in a flash there was another hand pressed against his stomach and then the sensation of weightlessness that came with being tossed. It wasn't the first time. When he'd been a page, an officer had once done similarly, but he'd literally sent Mont Blonc flying with the aid of his weapon. This was a little different. She had done this through sheer strength alone, and she didn't intend for him to go far.
His back hit concrete hard enough to make him yelp, winding him and dazing him for at least a few crucial seconds, the familiar ache of bruises to come seeping into him. His mind went to Aegir, how he'd put liniment on him the last time to keep the bruises from getting too bad. He was waiting for Mont Blonc, he was -
I can't just lay here.
She'd mentioned corruption. Laying here wasn't an option. The squire began to scramble to his feet, bringing his ring to his lips, hissing out a desperate, "Aegir, " thinking that if he could at least call his friend, maybe -
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 4:47 pm
Silver eyes, cold as the metal they resembled, lit up at the yelp, the sound of air leaving startled lungs in a rush. Music to her ears, sweeter than any symphony. Was it the touch of chaos that gave her this joy in carnage? Or had it been there all along, just waiting for an outlet. The general didn't know, nor did she especially care for philosophy, but it was a curious question in any case. She had to admit, there was something beautiful about the way he struggled. Scrambling to get back to his feet even as he reached for his ring again, trying to send out a distress call. "Oh no, we can't have that." Rude. A roundhouse kick smashed the ring into the poor squire's face,busting his nose, cutting off the cry for help and spilling him back to the ground. "We're don't done talking yet," she mused conversationally, impatiently, as she strode alongside him. "Not that you've all that chatty." Another kick, this time to his stomach, then she was dropping down to crouch beside him so she could look down into his face. "You see, that's how a conversation works. I say something--" Fingers closed in dark hair, tight against the scalp, and she pulled him up to eye level. "And then you respond." Her tone was so mild, they could have been anywhere, talking about anything, and not in the park, speaking of corruption. Tilting her head, she lifted violet brows at him, watching the blood pour from his swelling nose. Not so pretty now, but he'd heal, given time. "It's as thought you don't like my offer." There was a touch of false hurt coloring the purr of her voice. Her free hand drifted down, fingertips resting lightly against his sternum-- "But that's alright. You can tell me if you'd rather not. There are other alternatives..." --sliding slowly into his chest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2015 5:10 pm
Mont Blonc was aware from the start that generals were, in general, faster than he could ever hope to be. But maybe it was the desperation that'd led him to hope for a few fleeting seconds, just enough time to let his team, his friends, his girlfriend, anyone at all know he was in danger.
Those hopes came crashing down when she kicked his ring into his nose, sending him tumbling back down to the concrete in a mess of long limbs with a ragged cry of agony. The squire, frankly, was not used to pain - he'd been punched, sliced, thrown here and there, but in general, he was fortunate. He didn't attract attention on the battlefield in the way his friends did, all fire and vibrancy, ready for a battle.
He'd tried, of course. He'd tried patrolling on his own, he'd tried battling alone, but this was - Mont Blonc cried out again as she hauled off and kicked him in the stomach, choking on the taste of blood in the back of his throat, pouring hot down his face, pressing a hand over his nose and curling into himself at the blow.
Moments later, there were fingers in his hair, harsh and unrelenting to drag him to her face - the yellow in his eyes and the natural pallor of his skin contrasted sharply with the red of his bloodied nose, and fear was etched too plainly across his face. Lorne Benoit had never been good at lying, after all.
The fear intensified, his face contorting with mingled pain and horror as her fingers sank into his chest. Once before, someone had touched his starseed - but Umber had taken it so fast to cast it aside that he'd hardly been aware of the act itself. He didn't remember seeing then what he saw now. He didn't remember what it'd felt like.
Later, he'd wish he didn't remember this.
"No." His voice was soft at first, but in spite of the pain, the fear, or perhaps because of it, something else entirely slipped onto his face: pure, unbridled desperation, his eyes wide enough now to see the whites around all sides. "No no no no NO, " the squire was howling now, desperately trying to claw at her wrist, making a bid to summon his pen, anything, anything that would get her out get her away. "Stop, stop, PLEASE!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2015 7:17 am
She did stop, fingertips resting against the warmth of his starseed, and lifted brows at him quizzically. Desperate fingers had curled around her wrist, pulling, clawing, but she didn't seem to feel it, nor did her arm waver from where it was. "Have you reached a decision, then?" Join or die.. It was such an simple choice to make, but certainly not easy. Well, not for, she imagined. She'd gone into Chaos' embrace willingly, eagerly. "It can all be over quickly." One way or another it would be over quickly. "Just tell me your choice. Are you going to throw your life away," she purred it, leaning over him so her lips were closer to his ear. Fingers sank lower, closing gently over the seed. A silent threat. "Or are you going to join us, join him?" A pulse of chaos, not enough to alter, but a painful promise. Could she even change him on her own? She wondered.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2015 7:40 am
Nothing was working.
She wasn't letting go. Her hand was tightening around it, around him, and it felt like - it was wrong. Painful, suffocating, strange, but most of all just wrong. She wasn't supposed to be there. His starseed wasn't meant to be toyed with like this, squeezed in the palm of her hand as though he were made of nothing -
Mont Blonc felt sick. He felt dizzy, nauseous, above all else all else afraid and he was alone. No one else was here. No one was going to come in and save him and there wouldn't be a chance to because she was offering an ultimatum, right then and there with no room for compromise: join or die. He was shaking all over like a leaf in the autumn wind, on the brink of panicked hyperventilation, his eyes moving wildly away from her and in all directions even knowing and sensing that no one was there. All he could feel was chaos.
Then all he heard was himself screaming as she sent a jolt of chaos into his very essence, and he thought to himself through the wave of pain unlike any he'd ever known that this was a little of what Ploutonion felt when they took him. This woman wanted to take him, too. The thought made him want to retch - or maybe sob - maybe both. She wanted to take him away from everyone, from Nadia, from Colin, from Auguste, from Isaiah, from his cousin, from Niall, from - there were so many people he loved, so many he -
He couldn't die.
He couldn't corrupt.
But what was worse; corruption or death alone?
"I can't make that kind of choice!" he shouted, his voice cracking, and with his pen was already summoned in his hand. Desperation and fear won out for once over his own soft nature, Mont Blonc made his best effort to slam the sharp end of his weapon down into her arm, his eyes squeezed shut tight.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 7:07 am
The sudden sharp stab of the pen tore a howl of rage from the general, and her hand jerked free, empty, but only so she could smash that delicate fist into his face. Daze him, make him slow so she could remove the pen and chuck it away from them. Then grab for that hand. " That was rude." Zero effort in snapping one finger, then another. Insubordination would be met with swift retribution. Xenotime was harsh, but she insiders herself fair to those that answered to her. And he would answer to her. Or he would answer to no one. Again the awful creep of slender fingers into his chest, and this time the starseed was given an irritated squeeze. "You can, sand you will." Another pulse of chaos. " Or I will make the choose for you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 7:30 am
The blow struck across his cheek, hard enough to make his head snap to a side and his hair fall across his face - strands and locks clung here and there, helplessly trapped by blood and sweat. His nose, already too sensitive from before, throbbed as if she'd slammed his ring into it for a second time, and he groaned, his eyes falling half-shut -
Then they opened painfully wide, a ragged cry of pure agony escaping him, laced with what might or might not have been a sob as she easily broke his fingers, one after the other - and once in his life, Lorne had broken a bone. Never before had he had a bone broken, taken and bent until it snapped.
It made his world spin, his stomach churn - and when she sank her fingers into his chest again, he heaved dryly, his body lurching with the invasion, and again as she squeezed, and this time he really did choke out a sob. He could've summoned his pen back to him if he tried - but he'd need to focus, he'd need to -
His head was spinning. His world was foggy at the edges. And she sent another jolt of chaos into his starseed, making him scream again, his throat already ragged and raw from the abuse.
"D-don't - d-do - t-this..."
Mont Blonc was panting hard, trying to will himself to do something, to fight somehow.
What could he even do? This wasn't supposed to happen, he wasn't supposed to - "I-I'm not - I'm - you d-don't want - " His voice was broken and raw, wavering - his eyes squeezed shut for a few precious seconds -
Methone. Aegir. Thrymr. Scholomance. Hvergelmir. Someone. Anyone, please.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 9:19 am
"But I do." This was said happily, tenderly, and mercifully she withdrew her hand, because as much as she wanted to try, and as much as she wished she were able, she didn't have the power yet to turn him. So instead she sank down to kneel near his head, drawing his upper body into her lap effortlessly. Knuckles stroking in soft caress along his cheek, brushing hair back where it had stuck to his brow. "I really do, and I will." Her other hand dropped down to her hip, fishing out the crystal within. "You needn't worry, it won't hurt for long." This she knew from experience, and hadn't it been worth the pain? "It's better this way, you'll a part of something larger than yourself. "And you'll be with him." She stroked his cheek again, smiling down at him. "You'll be with all of us, and we'll make you better than you ever imagined you could be." Wasn't that what she had done with Natrolite? What she was doing with Ashanite? One more pretty face for her grown collection of lovely agents. Palm warm against his face, she brought the crystal up to her mouth, lips parting to speak into it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 2:50 pm
Xenotime would not get the chance to make that call.
Ashanite had been on a general energy-gathering patrol - he had already pulled his quota, and was draining now for a little extra to keep for himself. The touch of a Generla and a Squire's aura paired had made him curious, and he had slipped close to investigate. What he saw made his blood run cold.
And what he did was not out of any kind of self-interest, or grander plan - it was because despite it all, Mont Blonc was still a friend, and to see him torn apart and discarded in a forced corruption - no, absolutely not. He wanted him at his side, wanted all of them at his side, but not like that.
Xenotime wouldn't be prepared for an attack from behind, or from a fellow officer. So he balanced a dagger to throw, and then tossed it as hard as he could, aiming over and past her shoulder. His intent wasn't actually to hurt her, just to startle - to get her away.
"Let him go, Xenotime!" He said, and his voice was sharp and loud. She would know him from that, and from the weapon.Beejoux WILL LOOK FORWARD TO THE TERRIBLE RESULTS OF THIS.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
