Predates the Witzend mission event; roughly late February.
The room a dark space, lit poor by violet umbrals that sprung up in natural discord through the cavernesque area. Terribly aged and decrepit furniture, no longer identifiable by the fast-petrified wood, was moved into the space and arranged afterthought-style. That preponderance of furniture — armchairs and end tables and other demure like — must've been a bored collection's attempt to reclaim that space from the pair of double doors at its fore, always yawning, always reaching with heavy darkness back out into the Citadel proper. Faustite stood fore it, eir smoke receding into that glass-bound hall. Before em, seated, with both black hands lighted on each shoulder, was the wolf-touched lieutenant.
Dark as it was, Faustite's core brought enough light to chase away the misty ambience. What was once oppression became a grim welcome, impugning all the dread of that antechamber. Where stalactite teeth remained bared and silent high above them, their shadows danced and chased each other to the tune of flame vigor.
Faustite waited only long enough for shifting silks and rustling bandoliers and scraping boots to cease. "This is mine." A pause while burning gaze prodded for objection. "It can be yours too. It will learn fealty to all of us. Its name is Vitriol until it earns another."
Faustite's nailed fingers shifted from padded shoulders to neck where the sides of eir palms rested against the collar. Index and thumb measured the narrow v to Wolframite's naked jaw in stern strokes. Assertions they were — familiarities picked up from better teachers. Faustite spoke again once the nails of eir index fingers seized the lower lip, and on curling it back, bared fanged teeth. "Vitriol is its spit. From vitrium, glass, because its history will be known to you. Only you.
"This was once a knight. Before that, a general. It chased a dark moon across the sky until it learned it hadn't the teeth to catch it. I found it hopeless and vile. I found it spent all its eyes and teeth on balancing its vengeance ledger. I found it wanting. So our queen put eyes in its head, decorated this opened mouth with teeth, told it to serve infinite. Now it has so much to learn." Faustite's gaze, once trained solely on the black spot between two tufted ears, now raised to those who gathered at the invitation.
"Rehabilitate it with me." The general smiled, eir mirth a private affair.
Quote:
if you were quoted into this, you are welcome to participate but you are absolutely not obligated! in the spoiler are the specific characters invited — schörl's team as well as a few others faustite trusts. if your character would bring along someone else as well, it is at their welcome discretion!
syrie
for aue, tiberius
ivynian
for schorl
beejoux
for ceraskia
noir songbird
for idrialite
shazari
for quartz
daekie
for chrysocolla
kolina
for heliodor
guine
for kamacite
skye starrfyre
for tourmaline
Posted: Mon Mar 11, 2019 11:52 am
The reason for the call a mystery, Ceraskia had appeared within the dark chamber curious and eager, and as the rest gathered, familiar faces all, the petite corrupt waited just long enough to see where her general settled before claiming a place to her right, be it cushion or arm rest of chair. She sat poised and patient was hands folded and back straight, delicate ankles crossed, and like that she'd wait.
Reasons unclouded with the presence of the wolf, but more presented themselves in rapid succession as she waited for Faustite to speak. Who was his new pet? Why the cloak and dagger secrecy needed for this meeting?
Ah, she realized quite quickly the necessity and it left the dancer more curious still, small frame leaning forward on her perch. "A turn-coats turned back," she chirped with veiled mirth, then looked up at the general behind him.
"Will it bite the hands that hold it's leash?"
[I refuse to quote all of you. <3]
Beejoux
Wrathful Demigod
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MoonKitsune
Romantic Exhibitionist
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Posted: Mon Mar 11, 2019 12:12 pm
The chair was stiff as he sat rigid, large arms set upon his lap and claws over his knees as he waited anxiously as one by one people he never met filtered into the dim room. The informal announcement of a new acquisition and yet he couldn't help feel the flames licking behind him like torches raised to burn. Tapping his feet or fingers was restrained but his tail swayed with fresh nervousness each time anyone came through the maw of the large room. The hands upon him weights that grounded him to the spot and leashed him to face responsibility and rejection.
When it seemed it was determined everyone who was coming had arrived, the general began.
This is mine.
Then, like that, he breathed out. Straightened. Rose his head a bit higher.
The darkened fingers about his shoulder woke up and began to traversed the slope of his neck up to curl about his collar and paused. His attention split between touch and business. Youma or not, a jugular was still a hard press of fingers away and he turned his chin up, allowing more purchase if need be. Snap it like twigs for kindling. Crude resources trimmed for comfort.
But they moved away from their vacation spot in the valley up north on their holiday. Cupping his jawline and pressing fingerprints. Over and over in broad river strokes on a lake. Smooth pink. Never the gift for growing a beard.
His eyes floated out between them, watching. He didn't care to heard about this history. It brought an aching tiredness upon him and a still tender sore out for salting. Tasting. It made his stomach curl to hear the judgement. Hopeless. Vile. They stretched long syllables in the large expanse of the room.
But still.... I found it.
The dancing partners, bored carving their path, tapped across the vestibule of his mouth and pulled back to show his teeth. He parted them, unhinged, and took a breath.
Gums pink. Teeth white. Still young the vet would say.
Use it. Train it. Make it yours.
Posted: Mon Mar 11, 2019 12:55 pm
He knew the scent, couldn't ******** miss it. Smokestack fair to reeked of it, like some did of desperation to be liked or loved, like Aue did of citrus and vodka and ozone. Tiberius lay across a once-ostentatious armchair like a king, observing all that Faustite had learnt from his Mistress. Such a good student, innit he?
Sure as s**t, Tibs knew about Wolframite's past. And his present. His future...well, that was in the air, wasn't it? If he failed again...well, he'd be made an Example, and wouldn't that just be fun? Put up with the other traitors, or Worse. The massive Mauvian purred delightedly, tail swishing as he purposefully shed into the air; oh yes, he was aware of Vitriol's medical file too. His Mistress was thorough, so was he.
"Name'll be dogmeat if it fails again." No pretty words from the cat, not now - not ever. It just wasn't in his nature unless he was trying to mislead. The cat rose, stretched, and moved from his observation post to saunter himself towards the new lieutenant. "Gonna have one helluva time doing my box with those hands, Midget."
--
Attendance was not mandatory, but extending courtesy and respect was important, so Aue made a point to be present for the General's display with yet another dog youma. Information about Faustite's new pet was absorbed and processed, as were the reactions of Ceraskia and Tiberius - both very...usual. Neither added anything that he felt compelled to address, both received only glances, one less annoyed than the other.
Rehabilitate it, he says. Another broken thing, or something worthwhile? It made it to general before, but that means nothing. I've seen how some promote here. Even Heliodore was promoted by an incompetent when he himself was incompetent. The eternal of lemons narrowed his eyes at Vitriol and the creature's oversize, ridiculous paws. The ears, the lantern eyes. The pronounced canines bared by blackened fingers. He knew what that felt like biting in to skin - it pissed him off even to this day.
"What of using it's abilities in combat. Or are the claws and fang all for show?. It looks timid." If Faustite wanted him to assist, he would. It was his job, but <******** his life if he would be happy about it. Would he would never get away from goddamn youmadogs? Perkele. A second, more obnoxious thought rose, causing him to scratch at his nape, "Did you flea treat the damn thing? You know they have them. It's a b***h." Aue spoke from experience.
Attendance might not have been mandatory, but Chrysocolla wasn't so petty that she would refuse a fairweather invite that promised to pique her interest, even if it was Faustite of all people hosting (she was, actually, that petty; but it would look poorly upon her if the rest of Schorl's team arrived and she was absent, so it seemed as if it was in her best interests), and she arrived timely and quietly, with little to say and a polite expression of mild interest.
The mention that this creature had once been a general, though, however traitorous, pulled visible interest from her. Chrysocolla had spent long hours looking through the database as a Super, spread over months and seasons, curious to know the names and faces and abilities of the officers who had come before her and - as seemed most common, a unifying thread among so many of the files from 2009, 2010, even 2011 - had disappeared, either off to another facet of the Negaverse or to wordless obscurity, with nothing but words on a screen to mean anything of what they'd ever been for Metallia. It brought forth a question to her lips, one that she mulled over for a few seconds before letting air: "You say it was a General and a Knight, before. Can we assign names to those other faces it's worn, or would that be meaningless?"
Vitriol didn't seem any larger than she was, and though it was stifled by everything else, the aura felt Lieutenant-weak. And a traitor comes running back to us, and home to Metallia - (That, still, brought thoughts to mind she would rather dismiss. She had made her choice as far as turning Kerberos in went, already, and she was permitted a secret of her own every now and again.)
[if i quote everyone i'll die, sorry]
Posted: Wed Mar 13, 2019 9:26 pm
The trick to dealing with something upsetting, Quartz had long since realized, was not to look it directly in the eyes.
It wasn't something he risked with Schörl. He knew better than to ever try and put one over on her. But in general, in the world, there were always ways to disengage from things that were too difficult to cope with. There were always strategies to box up panic and hide it under the floorboards of the mind. The best strategies for this could be poured out of a bottle, of course, and he favored those -- but absent a convenient drink, he was left to make do with what he had.
In this case, what he had was the ability not to look this youma-agent directly in the eyes. Not to look for a consciousness, a soul, a surviving sense of will. To look instead at forehead and fringe of hair, and focus on his own breathing.
What was now a weak youma had once been a knight. Had once been a general. This man -- and there was no denying it, this petite monster had certainly begun as a man -- had run away, had tried to get free of Metallia's hold. And this, apparently, was what he had come to. A doomed future as a monster. This, above all else, was what Quartz feared most.
He did not want to be this chimerical wreckage of a man -- this warped fiction that was left after they had melted the humanity in him to slag and refashioned it. He wanted none of that. And he also didn't want to participate in this activity, in conditioning him to his new non-life. But he would, if his general expected him to. God help him, he would.
It would be better if that could be avoided. Quartz lurked at a slight distance, behind Schörl's shorter underlings, arms folded. All-One clambered in one of its little bodies around the curve of Quartz's ear, watchful and listening. It echoed Aue's voice back to him with the same tone of bland assessment: "It looks timid."
Time will tell, Quartz thought. I was timid once. Now I'm something else. Hollow? Empty? Whatever it is, timid's too kind a word for it anymore. We all settle into our worst selves, after a while. I guess we'll see what worst self this poor fool has within him.
Ceraskia's question was direct — a simple answer. "No. It knows better." Looking down at eir new charge, hands newly retreated to the back of the chair, Faustite considered his corruption. Considered the old whinging over lost sight and broken ideal. That sort of rock bottom experience that others hated and secretly yearned for, the edge of the abyss by which they measure their climb. Wolframite felt it as Gevaudan, didn't forget it, didn't forget his thankfulness to Laurelite or Metallia. What a fix.
"Tiberius. Our new recruit will need assistive devices while it learns how to function. Study its hands. Use your ingenuity to model pens, devices to open doors, cans, zippers, buttons; ways to maneuver.
"And Aue. It'll need papers when I train it to play human. I'll cover the fees and provide the paperwork." Faustite shifted stance, drew hands together to mingle restlessly. The youma general looked over the room, over the myriad expressions from stony to repugnant to nakedly curious to disappointed to fascinated. None looked bored, certainly.
Faustite smiled at mention of fleas. Like an indoor cat, the lieutenant hadn't seen the Rift to acquire said fleas. Hadn't seen enough of naything to acquire solid combat experience. "So you need a demonstration. Who wants to volunteer?" Backup was Perkele, though the creature possessed no mouth with which to speak its assessments, and its strange, slicked, rubbery texture seldom compared to meat and skin. Promise of demonstration was still necessary, however. Better they know what Vitriol was capable of in order to invest in training. In a future, that is, clustered with all these mentors. These figures stern, curious, welcoming, dismissive, interested alike.
Interested like Chrysocolla, ever asking questions that seldom applied to now. "First Wolframite. Then Gevaudan. His employ was so long; shame to reset it."
Faustite cast a look at the lieutenant, head cocked and eyes half-lidded with a smolder of interest, before ey stepped from eir turreted position. "I ask that many of you take it on patrols. Ceraskia, it will need your lessons in etiquette. Teach it to play human as well as soldier. Several among you can devise tactic to match this form. Now — any volunteers?"
Posted: Thu Mar 14, 2019 9:34 am
It.
He listened with just as much interest as the others, but dog jokes aside, it was the pronoun that stood out the most to him. It. He hadn't considered it u til now that the segmentation from human to you a, the muddled chaotic percentage that now made his person, might in some way change his station as being seen as something else. True, he did not look fully human. More a half-complete monster visually close to man best friend that it removed the visual threat of what made him this way. He wondered if he been more menacing as a soft-faced general then the half-bred he now was. True that humans often were more a danger than the chained pitbull down the street. There were set limitations to a dog's extent of cruelty while a human would rumiate at length during their coffee break on what was the slowest way to kill someone whoe stole your lunch week.
How lovely to have both worlds inside.
Somewhere had he not lost humanity in being half human? Though he suspected he could have become a it far before he ever asked for Faustite and the Queen's help in making it visible.
It.
So it was then.
The looked down to the cat called Tiberius. "If you make the tools, I'll do whatever you like." He said to the guardian, not hindered by some sense of pride to not do the task. He was far lower in rank then even the guardian and wasn't about to start believing he was somehow better than anyone here. He had to earn that after what he had done.
He raised a hand to stiffles a sneeze.
He glanced over his shoulder to Faustite. "There are youma fleas. I used a swarm of them to collect energy once. Summer of.." He paused to think of the date. "..2011 I think. Went well." He said, reminiscing. Then, more serious, looked at Aue. "I don't have them."
Stiffling another sneeze, he rose up from the couch by the unspoken command to be ready to fight. While he wasn't as familiar with his claws as he had been with his chained weapons, he knew he wasn't timid. Faustite knew it as well. They had fought. The general had seen what he'd done. Past. Present. Expecting much of the future. It was the fact that in the moment, he needed to prove it. Prove he wasn't so green that it wouldn't be worth anyone's time to train him until he could condition himself for combat. A weak stomach and yellow spine couldn't be fixed in a week and patience was in short supply in the ranks. The meeting wasn't just a call to those around him to help, but an evaluation of what he was and it fell back on Faustite's judgement on what he deemed worth training. He wouldn't fail these expectations and in turn make his general look as if he couldn't make a worthwhile assessment of character. He didn't want to show him that making the choice to teleport him to corrupt had been a mistake and he was best left to die in the woods.
Giving it a moment, he rose his claws up and dragged one by one against his tongue as if recently eating something sweet but messy. Sneezing once, he excused himself politely and did the same with the other claw. Once moistened, he waited eagerly for a volunteer.
"As you like." His usual affectionate nickname for Faustite played across the keratin papillae of Tiberius' tongue, but remained unspoken. This was a meeting meant to showcase Smokestack, so affording him proper dues was a smart thing. Massive paws, claw-tipped. Such a bother to work with, even more than Mauvian toebeans. With a huff, he sat back onto his haunches and spread out his communication device to tablet mode to take some quick snaps of the lieutenant's 'hands' while Faustite called out further demands.
"I'll hold you too that, Pup." Tiberius addressed Vitriol, using a strange stylus to digitize the images he'd taken and start figuring out what might be useful.
And what he might want in exchange.
----
Aue listened, then nodded shortly. What the half-youma general wanted wasn't something to merely fool a cashier's cursory glance; this was a proper identity with supporting paperwork. Perfectly within his ability to provide, so there was no need to blather on about it. "Sir."
As the one wanting the demonstration, it was on the Finn to volunteer himself. How better to ascertain the beast's prowess - or lack thereof - than by engaging it directly? Aue's own words echoed, Quartz' youma softly parroting him even as he stepped forward, hands loose fists at his sides. Vitriol slobbered on his claws in readiness, ears and tail showing excitement - a dog's need to please it's master. "Unless there is objection, I would be his opponent."
A glance for approval; Aue would not proceed without being given leave, his skills and body were not his own. Aue had managed to learn that quite quickly.
MoonKitsune
Vitriol~
ivynian
for schorl
beejoux
for ceraskia
noir songbird
for idrialite
shazari
for quartz
daekie
for chrysocolla
kolina
for heliodor
guine
for kamacite
skye starrfyre
for tourmaline
Strickenized
SMOKESTAAAAAAKK
Posted: Sun Mar 17, 2019 7:52 pm
A General?
Kamacite watched the pitiful creature from a safe distance, thin arms hidden under billowing, bright silk were crossed in front of him. His body language suggested the action was more for warmth than self consciousness. The fact that he hadn’t bothered cutting his long black hair, as he normally would for any anticipated combat situation, was evident enough of how he felt.
Are you asking for his sake, or yours, Faustite…?
Dark eyes shifted from the once-upon-a-time General and previous Knight, and settled on the young General that stood beside him. Young was an unfair observation. Faustite’s youth was an illusion and an unfortunate side effect of the partial youmafication. Still, Kamacite couldn’t ignore his concern for the young General who had been through so much already. And the glowing abdomen didn’t help matters. Faustite, still a teenager in many ways, was significantly more tolerable outside of command roles, when they were looking less for approval from their superiors, and more, well… someone trying to understand themselves.
Not that Kamacite would admit any of that out loud.
A turn-coat’s turned back, he heard the bird-like Ceraskia say.
Yes, but by choice…? Will history just repeat itself infinitely?
Tiberius’s comments made Kamacite’s jaw tense, a shiver down his spine at the berating and insults being thrown. Yes, the little youma was once a knight, but why bother bringing him back if he was just going to be abused? Then again, Kamacite reminded himself that this was the reason he never trusted Tiberius.
He kept his eyes on Faustite, and occasionally glanced towards the new part-youma. Even when Aue spoke up, Kamacite remained silent. They were all talking about… Vitriol, was it? All talking about him as though he wasn’t in the same room. Kamacite never claimed to be good with understanding how things worked in the Negaverse, much less its military tactics. But he knew enough to follow orders and not get him, or his teammates, killed.
Kamacite hated that he felt pity for Vitriol. Maybe it was because he saw a little of himself. He was used to being looked at as though he were weak and powerless. Oh, how people would underestimate him, some with good reason.
The sneeze pulled him from his thoughts, and he lifted his eyes to Vitriol once more. Was he cold…? Kamacite’s arms lowered from across his chest, making a motion to start to tug off the long robe he had resting over his shoulders, but stopped.
The thing Vitriol was doing with his claws in anticipation of combat, much like the preparation he took at Aue’s direction when they first started training... there was a reason for that. It was done too carefully, too purposefully.
Don’t underestimate him. Avoid being scratched, Aue…
Kamacite still didn’t speak, but his hands stayed by his side at the ready. He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but he didn’t imagine those large eyes of Vitriol’s would do well against a bright flash of light. Avoiding reprimand for interrupting a spar was one thing, but stopping Aue from being killed for thinking the timid youma would be an easy opponent would be worth whatever punishment he got.
MoonKitsune
Strickenized
Syrie
ivynian
beejoux
noir songbird
shazari
daekie
kolina
skye starrfyre
Guine
Crew
Lonely Explorer
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MoonKitsune
Romantic Exhibitionist
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Posted: Mon Mar 25, 2019 5:03 pm
He glanced at Faustite for just a moment and then moved away from the couch so that his back had more space to move without bumping into furniture. The large room provided some space but it would leave them to only be able to do close combat the entire time else they would be going into the sitting audience.
Eternal. The guy was larger in power than him which meant strong magic and stronger physical abilities. From what he could see from the uniform, he had no idea what his abilities could be. Green and Yellow. He could see the lemons.
"I'm fine with it. Then on three."
"One."
He glanced at the man's stance. Hmm. It wasn't lazy. Good posture.
"Two."
He fought before. Trained from his superior with how he had glanced back once he had volunteered.
"Three!"
And he rushed in, but instead of swiping wide and aiming to cut, he went with one hand as if to do just that but reached out and went right to grab a full fistful of that hair and pull down towards his knee.
Syrie
Posted: Tue Apr 02, 2019 9:10 am
There came no protestations of a mismatch from any corner, least of all Vitriol, so Aue stepped to engage. A spar. Get the feel for what he can do. Don't maim him, he's like Mab or Lalande. But worse, really - those ears telegraphed Vitriol's intentions the way that Wolfeite's always had, and knowing how to read one meant knowing what to look for in the other.
Three sent Faustite's new ward in, grasping for the thick braid and hauling. Obvious. Good tactic with corrupt hair - this is why I cut it-- Aue bent, twisting his upper torso and drawing upon his magic. Vitriol would learn that it was bad to bring this particular senshi so close so quickly.
"Petal Flurry!" Aue's basic attack cast right into unguarded face. It was harder to do this attack now, but for a spar the effort was worth it - it was meant to teach, not maim.
MoonKitsune
[Aue] Petal Flurry Aue summons a flurry of lemon blossoms that burst apart, petals flying at the enemy to cut (a la lots of tiny paper cuts) and then dissolve into lemon juice, which stings like a biatch in the fresh petal-cuts. The burning/stinging effect lasts for 20 seconds and is most effective if it hits the victim's eyes. :>
Per BSSM canon, Aue can perform this attack 2x per battle.
There was the attack. You'd be stupid to not consider magic when fighting a senshi. It was just figuring out exactly what it was to be able to start figuring out how to go about winning. Grilling the hair ensured the man stayed close but the attack was a series of slices to his neck and face the dribbled lemon juice and blood over him. It stung, but there was a panic as one eye stung violently and he felt an immediate sense of dread in what that could mean. A gift so quickly taken.
Gritting his teeth, he only had one eye while he tried to focus. If he kept the senshi, another attack could render him temporarily blind and he was as good as dead. Holding the hair for just long enough to keep the senshi close, he swiped down upon him before releasing the man. He immediately stepped back, using the back of his arm to wipe the lemon and pinpricks of blood from his face.
✧Rake: Wolframite’s arms are two large paws with long claws. These will act to rip and tear at enemies. No bells and whistles to it. Sharp, large, and deadly.
✧Bite Worse than Bark: Wolframite has glands in his mouth that allows him to produce poison. With this, he can lick his claws and pass on the effect. When cut, the wound burns like hot acid and the effect continues, causing a searing hot pain through the point of contact. The intensity varies on the rank of Wolframite at the time and the rank of the enemy.
Syrie
Posted: Thu Apr 04, 2019 11:34 pm
Watching Vitriol weighing his options left Aue to take full on the half-youma's attacks. It was the space of seconds for decisions to be made, but that would have been all that was needed for the corrupt of lemons to have teleported away to safety, out of the massive paws and free from any harm. Instead he felt the poison-slicked claws bite into his flesh through fabric, the burn of the acid introduced into each of the four wounds.
Aue sucked in a hissing breath, gritting his teeth against the sensations and pushing them aside - it was like using his magic against himself: unpleasant but bearable. He could tell it would be more useful against a weaker enemy, or one closer to Vitriol's rank as opposed to having such a skew as was between a lieutenant and an eternal.
"Not bad." Teleporting behind Vitriol allowed the corrupt to attack from a blind spot, kicking at the back of the bestial young man's left knee to knock him unstable while grabbing for his tail to give it a yank. Wolfeite's tail had always been sensitive - an excellent way to exert control - he had no reason to imagine that it wouldn't work for Vitriol as well, with their similar physiology. "Seuraa!"
Watching two people fight got easier with rank, ey noted. No longer were eternals and generals too quick to track with inexperienced eyes. Instead it was Vitriol who looked much too slow, as if moving through water where Aue faced no impeding drag. Courteous the corrupt was for sparing Vitriol one of his more powerful attacks. To strike at him with an eternal, or even a super attack might decommission him given the newness of its body and its youma affinity. While ey watched, Faustite held one elbow and covered eir lips with a curious hand. For once, the general stilled.
Until Aue caught the tiger by the tail, but it was Aue who hollered. Faustite looked to Kamacite then, studying intently. What did the Sunburst Senshi see that he so kept to himself? Seldom a sharer unless asked, Faustite would need to pry in private.
"None better than a senshi to teach it how to fight senshi." Aue was practiced, primed, taught others, had military experience outside of this war. And though Schörl was better for teaching balance and redirect, Aue was quite versed for teaching about different magic usage. And Faustite knew emself how to maximize use of youma abilities. But the basis of fighting, the basis of simple tactics, was easiest to cover. More remained of intellectual pursuits like obedience training, understanding of purpose, teamwork, and most difficult of all — how to trust.
How to trust everyone in the room, including those like Chrysocolla. Including those like Tiberius. How to trust them with its life, even at times where their conniving, self-serving nature seems most active.
"Knights are harder to replicate. Maybe your lieutenant will help, Quartz." Faustite's gaze flickered to him, drifted with a pull at eir mouth, then withdrew to the fight.
"Once it's achieved sturdy footing, I'll teach it how to look like a man." That would queue Ceraskia's part and so, so much more.
