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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:39:47 GMT
« Reply #105 on: Mar 2nd, 2013, 01:19am »
A shrug of the shoulders dismissing any apprehension... head grandoisely returning to forward position though only to descend downright, she found the true self and in accepting what indeed could not be changed...embracing the darkness despite how foreboding and discouraging though she remained indomitable and resolute- for now. Persistent and continuing upon this dimly illuminated land from forests and obscured wraithic mirth unfurling centuries of anguish; even the emanations that tore at the psyche in images of phantasm insanities, painful memories manifested within encompassing vapors coiling in ominous writhes like Leviathan serpents awakening from Lethe enmeshing and interweaving upon the extrasensory of the psychic pall witnessing horrors borne from chaos and the darkness of her own mind for that is what unlocks the doors to the mortal world against the immeasurable height of the black mountains that encircle the entire valley with razor sharp jagged edges that would be near impossible to climb. However, the glistening lake of moonlight reflection channels through the mountains, and thus it is the way she decides to take following the river that winds around the mountains so skillfully in vaporous luminescent wafts of mist and shimmering of silver upon black waveless surface as she in melliflous step paces through whispering grasses that sway in tranquil harmony in gentle rustle, sweeping past her sinuous svelte form and leather attire, coat trailing in shade-like rapture as wind catches hem in tormented deluge like fury worn. The dainty scent of lily of the valley permeates upon that same breeze that rakes along the grassland like an invisible wave , the sound permeating an undertone like chimes hissing upon each draft that whimpers with each head that bows to the descending winds from the mountains in nippy icy squall, stroking their sylphlike tresses in gentle undulation...the exact grasslands where the voice seemed at its zenith, though this is not the reason she had arrived here...she wanted to grieve, where none could pay witness to her fall...or the extent of her sorrow- all was lost, she prayed silently for eternal slumber...for Death. Here, she stopped assessing the situation as composure slid from her being, grasses lapping her form and tendrils of wind continued to writhe as blonde had died to black...gnarled hands at play with iridescent raven tresses, the ravening of uncoiled vampiric quintessence now fully unleashed, the blood of her sire racing as if flames had been ignited from the prestige of her sire, Lucian- the one who had quickened her blood to the Rites of Awakening...her senses so vibrant though muted as if clandestine she should remain, every inner intuition spoke of this, but they also told her to go into hiding- as they had done so once before, except now, to run would be totally in contradiction of her character and reputation...No...she would face what is ahead come what may, stand and hold her head high to what little pride she had left be it her destruction and downfall or be it her rising and glory- so be it. For it was meant to be. She felt this dark one near [Devlin] her dark-liqoured eyes slightly narrowing to pierce the darkness as a slight smirk fashions over crimson lustre, remembering his very words though she cannot tell if he is in her immediate proximity, her legs seem to give way, sliding upon her knees as if already giving in to the trial she faces of The Sabbat and Death...her head sorrowfully bows as thigh length raven tresses cascade over her visage and envelope with wintered filaments, both arms cross over to hold her stomach as if the centre of pain was there or a futile attempt to find solace, dark eyes cast to the ground as they morph into crystal white effluences; the crimson tears found their own way to drown upon alabaster in ruby streams, ivory incisor fangs extracted from clenched teeth biting down hard upon bottom lip...she threw her pain to the winds, to her solitude as words transcended in quivered lamentation...
"You broke me... "
Allowing sorrow to release physically...her mind speaks in calm cold egegores, sure this stranger [Devlin] could possibly hear her thoughts as well...
"I am closer than what one would believe, for same as you I am within the propinquity. Harken the night for it heralds many woes and your awakening resounds the night-tide; how could one fail to discern such cadences that whisper unto perpetual senses and nocturnal arpeggio...Your darkness sang to me as I am sure it shall sing unto them when the open themselves to perceive it. But Ah! The question evolves, does the night sing unto you as it doth to me? Are they willing to welcome you as the darkness would in its tenebrous embrace that could melt away centuries of coldness, loneliness, betrayal or break the very visage of stone that encompasses thy heart? We may seek...but we shall never find"
Her crystal orbs gaze up to the moon as vitae beads `pon crimson lips so sweet and blood-stained to savour...
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:40:14 GMT
« Reply #106 on: Mar 2nd, 2013, 01:22am »
383- Can I not rest?! Raethgir jun 13, 2004 2130
~He had seen and talked to Alexa. She had come to the edge of the cementary... sadly mistaken for a garden. A garden? A garden of dead mortals perhaps, fed upon by the countless immortals that killed them. A garden... Raethgir silently looks through the snow and notices... in the darkness of the night... Storm had been there... looking upon him... at that moment he watches her silently and slowly breeze away as if dust in the wind.. he could tell she was hurt...
Raethgir's eyes dart twoards Alexa menacely...realizing the situation. He quickly turns her back to her now outreached hand. "What is this cold irony?! Am I cursed?! Am I to be a bastard? Am I to cursed forever?!" He turns his head over his shoulder towards Alexa and yells hatefully, "I told you to leave her, my feelings for you are nothing, the only feeling that I share with you is the feeling of family. We are family. I have no other feelings for you. Now leave this place before I lose complete control. Go now before I find you a pig and kill you! You have ruined everything! Return to your bed and wait for your love to come to you! You search blindly, you lust for me only! Now GO?!" At that moment Raethgir turns around throwing his hand around, the wind blasting towards her figure, to violently blow snow at her figure, the wind flailing her hair, the force affecting her figures placement.
Raethgir turns once more and kneels towards a headstone and rests his forehead on it. "Sister... I have heard you words.. perhaps it is too late for that.. I can sense the link spreading thin.. drifting further apart..." Raethgir rests his hands around the stone, " I will take your advice." Raethgir violently stands up and his eyes stare through Alexa, ignoring her being and to the woods beyond. And he begins walking towards them...
With each step his figure fades into nothing, as if the world distorted around him, his figure fades... and as his figure fades the snow surrounding and engulfing the cemetary fades.. the cold disappearing... the wintry illusion leaving completely..
..slowly the shadows within the forest bend for only a moment.. and slowly raethgir appears from within the shadows... he figure stands within the dark forest.. the shadows returning to normal..
..Raethgir silently stands there staring through the darkness... his will bending through reality searching for her... as his icey figure remains within the forest... the reality around him changes.. it grows colder... icey... and then it begins to snow... the world around him growing cold and wintry... but his icey blue eyes stare forward..
...slowly he speaks to her, knowing she will hear, he speaks aloud.. no longer caring if anyone knows or if anyone cares, "I love you. I always have. I will no longer turn my back to you. I will no longer run from my feelings or hide myself from you or anyone else. You are the reason I am here. You are the reason I exist. I stand here in this dark forest, I came here for you. And her for you I have come to tell you. I need to be with you. I will no longer except your fleeing. I wish to return to our past. You remember and you cannot forget. I need those days again."
Raethgir stands now, silent, staring through and beyond the forest. His icey eyes never ceasing to leave their cold stare. not budging whatsoever.. his back rips and quietly snaps.. his dark wings spreading from his shoulders... his wings waking up from a cold slumber open violently and beautifully. His dark raven black wings open to their full extent, showing their might and beauty and silently flutter, the wind around him silently stirring violently. The snow around him swirling violently.
"My desire is you and only you. I wish to be with you more than anything. I will do anything and everything to be able to have you, to be with you. I will conquer worlds like you have, I will kill all that stand in my way. Even if you do reject my ..plead or begging... i will forever be cursed to follow you where ever you roam or stray.. i will never let another touch you or bare your love. I will never allow anyone to take my desire from me. My desire goes beyond life or death, beyond reality, beyond all existence, .. love..." Raethgir silently laughs, his hands lightly at his sides, "i love you."
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:40:55 GMT
« Reply #107 on: Mar 2nd, 2013, 01:22am »
384- Advice Raethgir jun 13, 2004 2138
...X... and in the darkest places, and in the strangest worlds. Even in the dreams of beyond, in the dreams of other worlds.
These beautiful moments, brought together 'strangely'. In those worlds, will they forever dream.
Of flowers.. roses, dark and dreamy. Can you question the meaning? Perhaps your existence.
In the strangest places, people fall in love. in the strangest places, does ones heart find happiness. in the strangest place, do we dream of being.
in the strangest places do we forever wish to be.
...X...
you cannot destroy something so beautiful, but you can attempt it, and if attempted again, swift death from black wings shall reign upon you.
~Raethgirs open thoughts~ His poetry and anger.
- Dustin __ 385- Revelations in the night Devlin jun 14, 2004 0300
The chilled breeze of night caressed over his form as he sat, quietly listening to the sounds around him and to the voices the cool night air sang to him. Pulling long strands of seaweed like substance from his cloak, his face sneering slightly at the filth one could acumulate in the spance of time he continued listening. Shaking his head as he heard protests of devout love as well as the thoughts of loves death from many around him, though the voice he heard within his mind sang to him... told him of love shattered by betrayal. Biting upon his lower lip a moment he looked up towards the single pathway within the woods, pools of inky blackness sucked in all light glinting out the very shape of his pupil within the darkness of night. The sheer audasity he heard in the words of one that betrayed sank deep into his very soul, a rather sickening putrid feel like that of a slug smashed against glass as you looked through it.
Slowly he stood, the very muscles and veins in his being seemed to scream in unison for blood as finally he came to complete conciousness. His thoughts upon many things, though mostly on the one who called to him in his slumber, her eyes all he knew in the blackness of the void. Again her voice hung within the air as she seemed to speak souly to him now, A smile painted over thin lips as fingers moved to bring his hair from his shoulders to cascade down his back once more. A low deep growl passed over smiling lips as he felt the shift in shadow and time, he felt the temperature drop and with it he felt the one who mourned within the cemetary. Had this man more then one lover, for he spoke of lose and never loving another and now sought after the one he too would seek out? Shaking his head he brushed a off each hand, the brief warmth of the friction of skin made him smile a bit more as words echoed over the winds that sounded little more then obsession.
Closing his eyes he spit upon the ground, that is how little he thought of such misconceptions of love. Opening them quickly once more, his face contorting to that of pure disgust, lips sneering as he spoke in disdane " Such possessiveness is unflattering, the sheer thought of caging a beautiful creature within your web of deciet and greed would sicken even the most twisted of men. To speak of love when possession is all you claim, to not allow the softest of touches or the purest of all emotions we feel to be felt by the one you proclaim such loyalties to is in itself hatred..." His voice went soothing as he knew all could hear who listened to the winds " and as for the flower who walks through the dead of winters breath... allow yourself to grow within the moonlight, do not wither in the shadows of twisted thorns this man believes is shelter" His hands folded slowly behind his back, fingers caressing over a ancient handle of onyx as his mind worked patterns now, runic patterns. Soon shadows would once more errupt into life, dancing on their own accord.. writhing like the flames of hell as his final words would echo deep into the woods, uttered by the shadows in ancient languages and common the same " harm to the flower... death to the world".... __ 386- no post here
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:41:13 GMT
387- The Beginning of the end Storm jun 15, 2004 0535
She heard Raethgir's words envelope through the darkness, seeking…in search for her persona, a persona momentarily shattered, a rose crushed to the hands of lies and deceptions ; the very petals streaming in bruised crimson that slips between the fissures of asphyxiating hands to the grip of treachery. She cared not of his words...she cared not of there implications or consequences...it all simply meant...nothing! She wanted his love, not words portending to it... She wanted nothing more than to believe the notion of love, to believe that it even existed amidst this world or its wretched beings- tainted scruples; emotional vampires that attempt like hummingbirds to suck from the millions of flowers that make up this exotic world, tasting the nectar of all whom bloom but never truly loving one, not truly. And as soon as that flower gave to deathly wilt they would move to the next, and now she did not care whether he meant those words or he didn't-now it was disingenuous, to her it sang of insincerity…that's how it all seemed, to her. The lowland grasses continued to stroke miniscule physique and concealing leather attire though it's obvious her form is very delicate and slight in physique, black leather draping over such lissom sylphlike finesse and elegance, refinement very evident-she did not pursue men that were not her's, but then she was no whore either, she did not cavort from one man to the next and in all honesty she had only ever had two loves in her entire existence, Raethgir had been one-the other she kept to herself. Yes, she had been married but these were an agreement for family prominence...she never cherished Dracul or Adrian; even Nicola knew that to be factual. She contemplated those very thoughts transgressing within lamented psyche...
"Is THIS what love is? ...Then I shall have no part in it. This stage has been cast to burlesque scene of profanity and blasphemy of all that I once believed; it was not love that kept me going…it was the desire not to be crushed by the oppression of cruelty to the heart, inflictions that would take millennia to heal.My foolish whims! ... It's what defines humanity from the fiend; the ardent from the cold… only the dead could feel far colder than thee within their decaying crypts beneath forsaken epitaphs which too once promised love… eternal, now rest broken just like those whispered words ushered that mean nothing…You stand at the end of the forest and bleed you heart to me, but I know you would turn away just as quickly when things become to difficult for that is what you have always done, and I to. You are not at fault entirely…and I do not blame you entirely, neither of us is faultless nor flawless in our ways or our pasts. But I fear you would betray me again for another, and I cannot put myself through such anguish for I have grieved far more than what you could ever perceive or understand. Iam scared you will hurt me again,yes I...I...Iam… afraid for I am lonely and Iam fading far quicker than the spring rose in bloom…I will always love you, but I cannot go through this again, and I believe in your heart you truly do not want me…so its best to let go… Don't worry you shall never see me again, this night shall be the beginning of my end for I no longer wish to go on, to continue...." __ 388- Fair Word Raethgir jun 15, 2004 1638
~Raethgir stood there, in his wintry presence and heard the words of someone he did not know, nor did he understand his presence. But Raethgir did not care of his words, he could not understand the depths of her or his story. Yes, a story he knew nothing of. Raethgir slightly smiles to his words.. and then frowns letting his ignorance be ignored.
"Perhaps it is fair to say the things you have said. Perhaps they are true. Yes they are true Storm. Yes, they are true." Raethgir silently smiles as his eyes drop to the ground and close, "I know you could never trust me again. Perhaps I cannot trust myself. But my love? Has stayed true and it forever stay that way. It is true, i didn't stay true to you all those many years ago, yes i hurt you more than you could have ever been hurt. It scarred you worse than any of your battles. The heart is the weakest possession we have. And in our story, i hit your weakest point and i forever scarred your heart. Yes, i am faulted, tis true. But we have our faults, and my words, cannot be trusted, for your scars will never allow the past to happen again. My words.. i do not understand why i keep preaching of this love.. i have destroyed what i have searched for, for so long. But now i see and understand. What we once had has been destroyed and we can no longer be with one another. Because of me." Raethgir opens his eyes and looks to his creation stone, a stone embedded into his chest, it silently glows a cool crimson.. silently glowing.
"I understand that you do not want my betrayel no longer, but i want you to know, that in the past, i only betrayed you once, and it was a mistake that i will forever be cursed for." Raethgir lightly turns to exit the forest and then looks back once more. "Whoever you are that speaks to me, this flower will never sit in a garden. A flower that cannot be possessed nor felt. A flower of its own world. This flower consumes worlds on its own behalf if it wishes it. This flower, her roots run deep, she is stronger than will. Her will, it will consume you, nothing's will can stand strong to hers. She can make you and break you. A flower that i wish i would have never touched, because i hurt it, i could not keep it and now, i have destroyed something so beautiful and amazing, i have hurt the story of the death bloom."
Raethgir now walks from the forest, his wintry presence following him. but his steps stop and his eyes raises from the ground and forward, "Storm. Where's my son? I need to speak to him. He should be a man by now correct? Let my eyes see him, let me look upon his prensence, let me see our story's sequel. Let me see him just once. Tell me where i can find him."
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:41:42 GMT
Raethgir smiles lightly and continues to walk away, to walk away froever, to betray no more, to hurt no more, to cleanse and purge the world of his dark aura, to cleanse the world of his prensence. __ 389- Broken Raethgir jun 15, 2004 1935
I just thought i would post this, it goes with the rp right now.
This song is by Seether featuring Amy Lee from Evanescence. Its a beautiful song.
I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
`Cause I'm broken when I'm open And I don't feel like I am strong enough `Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome And I don't feel light when you're gone away
The worst is over now and we can breathe again I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
`Cause I'm broken when I'm open And I don't feel like I am strong enough `Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome And I don't feel right when you're gone away
`Cause I'm broken when I'm open And I don't feel like I am strong enough `Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome And I don't feel light when you're gone away
-I just dedicate this song to you Dy. __ 390- Home tigeress_ladyof_darkheart jun 26, 2004 1157
Leaning on the jet black rod iron fence she stares up at what was once her home. Wondering whether she would be welcomed or turned away. As she makes her way up the long gravel drive she looks around at the old house and it surroundings. Some much has change since I was last here. As she neared the old oak doors she started to think. Maybe i shouldnt be here, what is she doesnt what me.She placed her hand on the beatifuly engraved brass handles as she thought, Oh well whats the worst she can do. She takes a step in door and says. Hello anyone home. __ 391- Newcomer Lady Shadow jun 29, 2004 1250
Laying on her bed, locked away in her room. She hears a familar voice. She slowly leans up in her bed and walks to her door. It cant be.Opening her door she steps out into the hall and over to the stair case.As she looks down the stairs to her amazement stand her daugther. I thought you didnt ever want to see me again? She slowly makes her way down the stairs.Looking at her daugther, she smiles its been a long time. I really didnt think I would ever see you again.What brings you back to me? __ 392- Dear Mother Tigeress jul 17, 2004 1227
Walking around the room, she drops her bag on the floor in front of the steps. *Looking up at her mother she smiles* Not everything is about you my dear. I didnt come back just for you. I wanted to see my sister.Walking along the walls, her fingers running along the wall as she looks at the pictures of her family. So where is my dear Dawn? __ 393- Resurrection phoenix_lance_blade jul 30, 2004 1411
The form that may once have been a creature, but is now a hallowed out shell continue to labor for breath just as it has done in this hidden away place, where he was laid to rest. He breaths come but maybe a few times a year, his heart beating just as often, and both so faint that even those with exceptional hearing would have to be concentrating on him at the exact precise moment to realize that life still exists in this burned out shell. However, that life ends as the final breath is exhausted and the final beat of the heart flutters away in the silence of the tomb where he is laid. But those who know The Sword Blade of DarkHeart also know that the bodily death of this creature is not the death of his mind. Just as thrice before he was given up a body and it succombed to the fires that course through his veins, this one to is suddenly engulfed in flames, and it engulfs the bed of silks of which he was lain. The fire quickly dies and a soft, ill smelling pile of ashes smoke on the floor, and just as quickly as it all began, the smoke stops.
After several long moment, all of which are unobserved by the occupants of the castle, since none know of the happenings in the crypt, the pile of ash begins to spread across the floor. The ash covers an area of the exact shape and size of a man, that once occupied the body is now reduced to the ash. The ash begins to smoke once again, and the smoke rises but only a small distance. As if trapped in a bubble, the smoke begins to take a form and fill it in. Had any been there to witness this they would have sworn that the form looked amazingly like Blade and might even have felt that it a fitting tribute to a man whose life seemed to revolve around the flames that coursed both in his blood and in his mind.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:42:08 GMT
The form begins to solidify rather than dissipate, and suddenly begins to move. The form that is composed of the smoke stands slowly, shakily, as if his legs are new. He falls several times, and is confused not just about why he is falling, but also about where he is. He does not realize, even now, as he looks around the room and checks his legs for possible wounds, wounds that healed up long ago, that many years have passed nor does he realize that he has been once again resurrected. He doesn't even realize who he is. His mind in a moment of confusion calls out to the blood that once flowed through his veins, but is now worn in a pendant around the neck of the woman who put him here. At the same moment, in a spot unseen, two feathers begins to smoke and smolder, then suddenly extinguish themselves leaving a faintly charred smell. In several places through out the realms other feathers do the exact same thing, those feathers being gifts from Blade to loved ones.
Suddenly his mind makes several associations and he realizes, "I am Lance DeNoble, The Blade of DarkHeart, and protector of the tomb of Katianna DarkHeart. I returned to my ancestral home wounded, my flame almost extinguished. But where am I now?" His voices echos in the near empty tomb he now occupies surprising him, since he did not realize he spoke aloud. As he begins to search the inside of the tomb for knowledge of his location, his body, unknown to him, completes solidifying, and leaving him with the flawless white skin of a man who's flesh has never seen the light of day. Any who look upon his face, who knew the face of Blade would easily recognize him for the man he is.
His searching identifies a door, but not even a stitch of clothing can be found, since those where consumed in the flame that destroyed his body and his bed. But Blade is not bothered by his nakedness, and never has been. Having been born human he understands the custom of clothing, but has been not human for so long and capable of changing his appearance at will that he no longer remembers why clothing is important. __ 394- Re: Resurrection Alexa jul 30, 2004 1515
Several hours after saying all her goodbyes to whomever was around, which wasn't more than servants, Alexa curled back into bed and drew the covers over her body. She had been downstairs to say her final farewell to Blade and decided to join him in the slep of torpor. He had been gone for what seemed like years. And after the loss of him, her childer and now Darius, she desired nothing more than the sleep of torpor so perhaps her nightmares of Suffering's works wouldn't haunt her anymore.
She absently fingered the pendant at her neck and recalled the happy days before Blade had slipped into sleep. Had left her alone, yet again, and she had stood three months over his lifeless form before finally resigning him to the family cotacombs beneath the Keep.
She closed her eyes and gave a final sigh.
Torpor... pain gone....
...nightmares gone...
...everything...... gone.....
Several hours after she closed her eyes and her body became still as death, something occured beneaththe Keep. She winced and tossed in her sleep fitfully as she felt the heat of the pendant grow upon her chest. It grew hotter and hotter till it singed her skin and she sat up clutching her chest with blood tears on her cheeks. She had dreamt of Suffering again. The blasted sword had given her nightmares for the last time. As she reached to grab the pendant in comfort she realized the warmth was not nightmare, but real...
She looked down and traced a finger over the burn mark on her chest.
She whispered softly as another tear, this one of a deeper pain, fell to her cheek..... "Blade.....How I need you now..."
She closed her eyes and pulled her knees to her chest and wept. She wanted to forget that she was alone... but she couldn't.... __ 395- … and realization Blade jul 30, 2004 1544
The man that is once again Blade of DarkHeart calls to his blood. Something requires great strength and concentration for so many others comes naturally to him, and he finds only two places nearby where his blood rest. The first is in a pool causing an eternal flame to burn protecting the final resting place of Katianna, and the second in a pendant around the neck of a woman. He briefly feels for the blood of the woman and realizes that is his beloved Alex. His mind surges back in time to his first day in the halls of DarkHeart and that night she was promised to him as his bride. Many years have passes, and many misfortunes have fallen him but not of which seem to compare to the despair in her blood. Now more than ever he feels the urge to leave his small prison of stone and wood.
Without a sound his hand comes in contact with the door, knocking it cleanly from it place on the wall, ripping the securing bolts out of the surrounding stone. He concentrates on the blood and the direction that it lays, and walks that way. At no time later in his life is he ever able to remember anything he saw or felt on the way to find his blood, kept forever in a pendant around the neck of Alexandra. His one thought is to find a way to ease the suffering of the woman who's very being screams out to the living blood around her neck of suffering and loss.
His sense guide him, and his feet carry him. Nothing else matters except to reach. He finally reaches a door in the great castle, and with no memory of coming here or of how he got here, he reaches out and places his hand on the handle of the door, knowing that her blood is in there, that his beloved is in there. The reason for returning instead of accepting the final rest that his mind and body wanted, but his heart did not will be inside that room, waiting on him and ready to accept her place by his side. The problem is, he is unsure if that is knowledge, a premonition or just wishful thinking. The one thing he knows for sure as his hand turns the knob is that she is in there, that she is not dead, and that she feels great sorrow. The knob reaches the full turn marking the end of it's journey. The door is now free to swing inward, to open.
Blade pushes the door open.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:42:39 GMT
396- Torpor Forgotten Alexa jul 31, 2004 0147
Blade opens the door to the room that he senses his reason for returning is behind. Alexa is on the bed, the top of her nightgown torn, her hands wrapped around her knees and holding the pendant pulled hard on its rope. She is rocking back and forth weeping and whimpering. A FAR cry from the strong determined woman you left behind at your death. The gown is the color of midnight blue and sits like silky water around her and her long raven hair, its white streak still falling over her left eye, flows around her like night trying to hold her. Blade spies the form on the bed and instantly recognizes the figure as his beloved Alexandra. He also recognizes the need for feeding since she has obviously not done so in a long time. His first thought is on how to feed the woman since his own tainted blood is fatal to all creatures that are not of the fire. He then recalls that Darius, her step-sire, once gifted him with a sample of his blood, so that in times of great need it can be called upon to feed that woman that was promised to him so many years ago. Blade concentrates on his blood and builds a small amount from the gift. He does all this in the time it takes him to walk over to her and sit next to her on the bed. He bites the inside of his lip allowing the gift to flow and he leans down to kiss her. Her Sire's blood is on his lips and dripping from the fresh wound inside his mouth. He presses his lips to hers, both kissing her and feeding her at the same time. She whimpers softly at the kiss then gasps and with shaking arms tries to shove away the one before her, believing it another trick of Suffering. Her mind screams in protest, but her body desires the blood as well and she kisses him weeping for her own weakness and closes her eyes calling to Blades mind still thinking him far away in another place, buried by her own hands in the catacombs beneath the Castle in another realm from here. *Forgive me Blade... I will always love only you...* She drinks of the blood thinking her own weakness a folly and not realizing it was he himself who was holding her. As he feeds her that which she craves, he hears her call his mind and is almost giddy with the excitement from the knowledge that even as she fears the form above her, she calls out to him to forgive her. He sends a single emotion back to her, almost enough to make her believe that the emotion is her own and coming from inside of her rather than an external source. The emotion is defiance. Alexa shivers at the feeling and begins to draw back shaking wanting the blood and then not wanting it from Suffering. She finally whimpers as she breaks the kiss and holds her hands to his chest gasping between tears. "Leave me please... don't make me suffer more. I beg of you to kill me. This one person you bring before me is more than my heart can take of all the images and memories you have roused from me. Please Suffering... let me go.... let me die in peace...." Her voice shakes in pain deeper than her skin as silvery sea blue eyes wracked with painful memories stare into your own. Blade speaks softly to her, "Awaken sleeping beauty and see with your own eyes instead of with the shadows that where once put before you to blind you. Your own eyes are capable of seeing anything, but let them see the truth." Never wishing to force anything on his beloved that she did not seek, he does not push the kiss to resume, but does not allow himself to be moved from the bed, since even in his own weakened condition he is still stronger than her. She closes her eyes a moment against the voice in her mind and ears and when she slowly opens them again she looks at him and then around the room speaking softly. "But... I thought..." She looks back at him. "Gage... Gage rescued me. And Nicola... I am home." She looks into your eyes as love and joy flood them coloring them the color of a moon on a lake deep blue. "BLLAADEEEEEE!!!" She shudders and bites her lip. "Tell me... tell me its really you... its not a dream... a nightmare vision of Sufferings doing... tell me you have returned to me... pplleeaassee." "I tell you nothing. You must see with your own eyes and believe with your own heart. I know not who Suffering is, but I smell upon you the brimstone of a lower plane of Hell, and can see in your blood much suffering. But hear me well, my flower that blooms at dusk, I have never left you, and have been here the entire time. And know that no denizens of the lowers planes shall ever again harm you. Now take me in your arms and welcome me back from my death, or shall I again take my place in the tomb you placed me in?" A soft smile of teasing touched his lips. "NNOOOO!!!" She lunges now to hug him tightly and weeps now from joy and relief and kisses his neck over and over before looking into his eyes once more. "Kiss me please. Drive the last of the pain from me and tell me you love me still as I do you." She begins to lean forward towards him. This time not to feed her blood lust, but to feed her emotions. Blade smiles, his nakedness still forgotten, as he leans over her and presses his hot lips to hers and places innumerable small kisses all over her face and neck, but between each coming back to her lips to sample the sweetness found there. "I have always loved you, but I do have a question... when?" She pauses a moment to press him back slightly, and looks up curiously. "When? I don't understand... when what?" She kisses back the caresses his cheek looking into his eyes shifting to sit closer to the one she has ached for for so long. "When do you finally fulfill your promise and become my Lady?" "I… you still want me... even now?" She tries to pull away shivering from not chill but worry. "Things have happened Blade. I am not as I was." Alexa turns her gaze away finally. "I ... you deserve the Alpha you once proposed too. I have been ruined Blade." Blade pulled her slightly to let her know he was serious. "You where not Alpha when first you promised yourself to me. You where a scared child, and I was still learning that I was no longer human. The only thing that has changed is the time outside this place. I have never wanted anything else, and I am here now only because of my wish to have you. Alexa looked back up and gazed into his eyes as he wiped her tears. She nodded and finally smiled for what she was sure was the first time in many a year and managed to whisper not trusting the moment to truly be real yet. "Yes… of course I still desire and want you. And whenever you desire. Whenever you wish, for in my mind I have been yours and never stopped." She leans towards him and kisses him deeply once more. This time she is SURE it's real and that life itself may be worth reconsidering.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:42:57 GMT
397- The Truth Blade aug 1, 2004 0239
Blades mind after such awakenings is usually scattered and his memory fragmented, and this time is no different than the rest. His walk to Alexandra's room and his kiss are demonstrative of the fact that he was not yet a thinking man, since pure emotion and instinct drove those actions. The first time he rose from his own ashes, his mind remained confused and scattered for weeks afterwards. The second time he was completely recovered within a few weeks, and the third found Blade with his faculties intact inside of a week. As Blade sits on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around the cool flesh of the undead creature that has held his heart captive for so many years his mind sorts and repairs itself. Within minutes of his arrival Blade is nearly operating with the same mental capacity that he has for many years.
With no more mental effort or concentration than a mortal human put in to blinking their eyes or beating their heart, his mind searches the immediate area for potential threats, routes of escape, means of assassination and possible magic. Something under the bed catches his attention, but more from the scent than from anything else at this point. His mind reaches out beyond the room and is reassured at finding the entrance to his labrynth outside on the grounds, and still seemingly intact. The magic items through the castle each scream out to him, and that includes the rocks hidden behind the stones in the fireplace of the throne room. He decides it may be about time to recoved those. Something his mind does fail to touch upon is Darius. His mental acuiting in place,this took place in no more time than is required to blink.
Another part of his mind shifts to his body. His first resurrection left him red as a ruby, the second left his feathered hide as dark an ebony on a moonless night at the bottom of the cave, and the third left his feathers as prismatic as a rainbow at the bottom of a waterfall. Each time he maintained the ability to take the form of himself, as he appeared while still mortal, and this time appears no different, since he sits on the bed in his mortal form. His mortal arms wrapped tightly around Alexandra's body are a bit on the pale side, but they are undoubtedly his arms.
A sudden memory crashing through the final stages of his minds self healing causes him to stop placing kisses on Alexandra's face, and sit suddenly upright with a sharp inward breath. His mind starts going backwards and quickly arrives at his awakening, naked as he was the other times, his possessions consumed in the flames. From there he moves backward and remembers coming to the castle and finding both Alexandra and Seafoam there, but before he had a chance to say much to them he fell in to the dreamless state that he so recently expired from. In his mind he searches the contents of what he had when he arrived, and immediately notes two items that are missing. The first, while having great personal value is not a loss of notable importance, that being his dagger. It was given to him by his brother moments after Blade drove his sword through him, and moments before he died, Blade's vengeance exacted. The item of importance is his sword. A blade crafted from the finest metals obtainable in all the realms of Hell, and forged by Blade's own hand in the fires of the 6th plane of Hell. No hammer or anvil was utilized in the creation of this weapon, as Blade worked the hot metal using his bare hands, working himself in to the metal that was used to create the sword. The metal that was left after the making of the sword went in to creating three daggers, one of which was gifted to Alexandra.
What happened to FlameSabre? And who was able to hurt Blade in so bad a fashion and yet was powerless in delivering the fatal blow? Fear immediately makes it's way in to the base of his spine. The man who led the armies of undead and claimed souls against the original proprietors of the 6th plane of Hell and twice came out victorious, is afraid. That sword could potentially cause many problems.
And then there is the smell on Alexandra. Not physically on her, but emotionally and spiritually. It is the same smell on the souls that where in the 6th plane prior to Blade's arrival. It is the smell of lime time damnation, despair and hopelessness.
Blade turns his head rapidly to the side and hangs it off the side of the bed as he regurgitates his stomach juices, then dry heaves when there are no juices left to bring up, and his stomach cramps from the strain. __ 398- The Sword <rp scroll... its long> Alexa aug 1, 2004 2033
As Blade leans off the edge of the bed, the lack of contents in his stomach causes his stomach to tighten and cramp. Either that or the thought of what he may be the cause of is causing the cramps. Alexa gasps, almost reeling a moment from the kiss then is about to ask what he is thinking when the sound of retching makes her realize he is indeed ill. "BLADE!!!" She goes to her knees and pulls back his hair out of the way with one hand, the other yanking hard on the hem of her nightgown tearing a swatch off and offering it to him as he finishes, her hand on his skin cool, warming slightly remembering somehow that heat will make him feel better. "Easy baby... easy m'love." "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you", he attempts to smile at her, one hand still clutching his stomach, the butterflies inside it are threatening to handle the knots in his stomach with the Gordian solution. His other hands goes to rubbing his forehead, trying to clear his mind enough to allow him to recall what happened to the sword, but not succeeding. "Wait... you need something hotter than my undead flesh in your hands... don't you?" She bites her lip looking at you speaking softly. "You told me once that fire was in your blood. Will a flame sword help you Blade?" As she speaks, she reaches under the bed and draws Chath Killian, the flame sword she had under there and offers it to him with silent pleading, and whispers. "Tell me how to help Blade... tell me how to heal you."
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:43:34 GMT
He looks at her and touches her cheek. "Special one, the day your flesh is not enough alone to heal whatever ails me is the day I finally succumb to the fate that awaits us all. What is wrong with me now is not physical, but mental. And no, I do not need your sword, but I do perhaps need to find the fate of mine. The night I returned to the castle, wounded and exhausted, as if from a great battle, I truly did come from a great battle. But the details of the battle and of my own fall and near defeat I cannot recall. I also cannot recall what became of FlameSabre, my weapon. When I arrived that night, did I arrive with weapons or without?" He looks at her, his eyes almost begging for an answer that will relieve him of the burden of searching out this weapon, but already knowing that if he had it with him that night that it would be within the walls of this castle, likely in the very tomb he so recently found himself in. "Yes... you were armed... " She sets the sword on the bed out of reach. "You collapsed and Sea took you to her chambers hoping to watch over you till you woke. I claimed your arms. They now reside in the secured armory of Serenade." She smiled suddenly remembering, "As does the dagger pair you gave me and the feathers. Safe, hidden from prying eyes and sticky fingers." She brushes your cheek and runs the cloth over your lips and chin to dry them. "And my touch shall always be a balm to you Blade. As yours has been to me, even in your absence. I called to you once, when Suffering had me." She looks down ashamed. "It was a moment of weakness and I cried out to you to forgive me for I was about to end my life, to end whatever hold Suffering had on my soul. I knew if my soul died there... " She leaves the rest of the thought unfinished and absently runs her fingers thru the ends of your hair like a child before whispering. "I couldn't bear the thought of you finding me broken... yet here you are... and here I am... broken." "This is important, as I now fear that I may be responsible for what occurred to you, that now leaves you smelling of the realm of my home. Among my chattels was my sword in there?" She nods. "Yes... but how do you think YOU could have been the cause? It was that damned sword Nicola has. It and the one it possessed." She tilts his chin to look at him. "It couldn't have been your fault Blade, you were dead." Blade smiles at her, trying to reassure her, "My lady, I must ask you to tell me where the sword is that I came here with. I do not believe it to be FlameSabre or I would be able to tell it's near me. And there are to many similarities between what has occurred to you and what that damn sword of mine is capable of, though I know now that I should have destroyed it when I had the chance. And I can smell the Brimstone of my home plane on you." He fails to mention that he can also smell the recent despair on her, s well as the fear that now oozes from her pores. He can guess easily enough that whatever she's been through was rough and more mentally afflicting than physically challenging and her earlier comments leave him believing that she doesn't yet trust her own sense and that he is here. Smiling, Alexa holds a hand to him and whispers. "Take my hand. I will take you to your sword; it is not within this Castle any longer but in the catacombs beneath Serenade. It cannot be felt unless you are within the house itself. It is part of its protection. You don't know its there till you are there yourself." She kisses his lips softly and smiles. "Take my hand and I will take us there." Blade stands ignoring the knots in his stomach and scoops her still weak flesh up in to his arms easily, "Tell me which way to go, my dusk rose" She squeals at the surprise of being swept up so suddenly and kisses his neck wrapping her arms about him and whispers moving to cover his eyes with her hand. "Do you trust me?" "Always" A simple response yet his mind still searches for his weapon, fearing for the worst. As her soft cool hand rests over your eyes you feel a shimmer of magic, stronger in her nearly ten fold to what you recall. You feel the world shift and when his lips are brushed by hers once more, she moves her hand and they stand now on a cobbles balcony. It stands connected to a three story Victorian whose back faces them now, and on the other side, behind him about ten feet, the cliffs straight down to the ocean. "Welcome home Blade. Welcome to Serenade." In the split second of his arrival his mind reaches out for two things, the first being an entrance to the labyrinth and the second his sword. Many magical things are found in that brief instant, but none of them the doorway or the weapon. He smiles at her hoping his face does not give the slightest indication of the fear that is now tearing at his insides, and grinding it's way up his spine. "That was an interesting method of travel. Perhaps I should show you around the labyrinth sometime." Alexa smiles squirming slightly to be set down and takes his hand. "Come... I will show you." She leads him into the house and thru the sitting room into the front foyer, to the left there is a large stairway leading to the next floor and to its left, there is a door hidden beneath it... she goes to it and turns to him once more. "This is where I placed everything." Sshe opens the door and as she does a rush of magic washes over him and in his mind a soft voice whispers. *Sword and blades, oh sharp edged wonder, lie beneath me in deepest slumber. Reclaim them Demon son... and know you are welcomed here* He takes her hand as much to steady her as to reassure himself as his mind calls out to his demon sword. Much magic is tormenting his senses when really all he wants is to devote all his being to his soon to be wife and if necessary to finding his sword to that it can be disposed of, as his friends once begged him to do. He decided that anything that can cause this much fear and anguish, even if used justly, couldn't be healthy to have lying around. "Lead the way, it is your home, I know not the way" She takes his hand and leads the way down the steps as the voice subsides in his head. If he felt back for it, he would realize it was linked to the house itself. As soon as two steps are behind them, he feels nothing but what he seeks. The overpowering lingering magic seemingly only at the periphery of the catacombs while here was like the calm eye of a storm. She leads the way down oblivious to the voice he heard or that his senses are reeling.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:44:06 GMT
He doesn't want it known that he is currently this sensitive to magic even to her, as any man does not wish to show weakness to a woman, particularly one he loves and wishes to protect. In time he will build up a resistance to the presence of magic. For now he simply follows her, holding firmly to her hand and praying to whatever gods there may be that the sword he finds at the end of this short journey, indeed be his own weapon, FlameSabre and it not be the one that caused Alexandra and the rest of the Darkheart so much trouble. She enters the catacombs at the base of the steps and nods towards different things to see in silence... you see caskets of those gone before, including new ones, one with DEVON MOROVESTON on it in a brass plate still shining and untarnished... "Beloved Sire and Maker" is written under it and you realize as her eyes scan it that her mind recognizes it as her own lost Sire and a short feeling of guilt washes over her once more before being suppressed as you enter a chamber filled with soft candle light and holding a scattering of caskets. Several are burned and beyond usefulness. But two, raised on a platform in the rear of the encircled others are untouched by the ravages of the fires that had been here. They are Adamantite and sealed with a spell of recognition. Alexa lets go of your hand and raises the lid of the far one, in black silk, ebony as night with blood crimson pillows, your blades all lie as you remember them. Blade draws FlameSabre from within the confines of the chest and hears the familiar hum inside his head. The weapon itself sings a hymn to him, extolling his greatness in battle, if only he should continue to wield FlameSabre. For the first time, Blade realizes exactly how dangerous the weapon is, but for more than one reason. "Alexandra, are you familiar with the concept of yin/yang? The balance of all things?" She nods and lifts the other lid to find the sword of Flame sitting there, having returned by its own power when she left it on the bed away from her body. "Yes... I remember." She lifts the blade and then closes both lids as he claims all his things. As Blade speaks he kneels in front of Alexandra and adjusts the length of the belt of his dagger, "In all things in creation there are a yin and a yang. When I created this weapon I was ignorant of this." He reaches out and softly caresses her right thigh, while wrapping the belt of the dagger around it. "When I created FlameSabre, I made it strong and proud. There is an opposite number of the same weapon." He clasps the buckle of the belt securing the dagger in place, and then calls upon his blood. "I experienced the other sword once years ago and it wounded be badly, hence my second rise from my own ashes" Using the fire in his blood he melts the metal of the clasp securing it in place permanently. "I thought I had destroyed it but apparently not. When I first smelled Hell upon you I feared it was FlameSabre run amuck in my absence. Now I fear it may be FlameSabre's opposite. But even if it is not, this weapon should not have been created using the methods I did. There is too much power and strength for the metal to contain. It must be destroyed." "How?" She murmurs softly and a set of clothing appears on the step beside him, slacks of ebony and a silver shirt to match it. A long trench coat sits on the bottom of the pile. "I know they aren't what you are used too, but its better than bare metal and flesh love. How do we destroy it? And what will you do with no weapon once it is gone?" He smiles up at her, almost ashamed of not realizing his need for clothing and begins to get dressed, almost kicking himself for not taking better advantage of his current situation, her nearly undressed, him completely undressed, but silently he gets dressed while thinking. "The only way to destroy it that I know of is to melt it back down in the fires that wrought it. Easy enough to do, as soon as I find an entrance to the labyrinth around here. As far what I'll do when weaponless, do you really think the lack of a sword would leave me weaponless?" He smiles as he plucks a feather out of the air, almost where his wings would be, if he had wings, and the feather almost immediately turns to smoke, answering another of his questions. He almost casually throws the feather across the room. The feather strikes an old chest, mostly destroyed and immediately the chest resumes smoking as if it was only recently burnt instead of long ago. Alexa jumps and watches the chest before pressing her hand towards it and smiling as a moment later it flames to life in bluish flames and slowly burns to ashes before smoldering to nothing. "I don't know of any labyrinth opening here. But we can look." The voice from before once more enters Blade's head. *Lord Blade, Phoenix by rebirth. I am Serenade, the door you desire is here, but she knows not of it. Nor of me... keep my confidence and I shall dampen the magic so you can seek it...* Blade speaks back to Alexa, "There won't be an entrance here until I build one, but those also are amazingly easy to create. The labyrinth is a living entity, and as such has many doors. Some are natural and some are not." He then sends out a telepathic message to the bearer of the voice. *Your secrets are your own, and if you do not wish me to share them with my lady, then do not share them with me! * He smiles at his love and kisses her lightly on the end of her nose, "You know, I think there might just be an entrance around here someplace. He's always likes cliffs for some reason, but if there was a beach around someplace, I know we could find an entrance there, he loves beaches."
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:44:47 GMT
399- Sidebar: Bio part 1 Blade aug 2, 2004 1911
Disclaimer: This character is not WoD or VtM. If this upsets you then don't roleplay with me.
Note: Though I'm sure I don't have to remind anyone of this, most of this information is OOC. Some of it can be found in the family library and plenty of the other if enough of the family ever got together peaceably and shared their knowledge.
-Exodus- Lance deNoble, later in his life known as Blade, was born to a slightly less than noble family. Though his lineage could be traced back to the throne, his family's blood was so thin they never even considered themselves Nobles. What his family did have was land, wealth and happiness. The local villages tended the family castle (not nearly as large or stately as DH castle, but larger than the hut the villages in town tended to live in) as well as worked the fields. Lance's mother never did any work, except that which she wanted to. And she liked to teach. So beginning with Lance and then with his younger brother, and later to many of the village children she taught, and was highly regarded by the villages for this. Lance's father sat as judge and justicar over his own lands and was highly thought of for his fairness in all matter brought before him. And our hero Lance? He married a local girl and had two beautiful daughters and was destined to replace his father and be a better, more loved and respected Governor than even his father.
Remember the younger brother the mother taught? He was not quite as satisfied with his life as the rest of his family was with theirs. And he sought out many methods of increasing his own power. This is how he stumbled upon the black magic that eventually would consume him and cause the downfall of the deNoble line. After many years of study he continued to grow angrier and more dissatisfied with his life and was beginning to despair that the art he sought was beyond him. He didn't realize at the time that often to make black arts work, there must be a blood sacrifice. He learned this lesson quite by accident.
One night after another failed experiment in the arts, he took up a knife in rage. He decided that if he was not to rule these people and this land, that no one would. He found his parent's room, and without waking them, he killed them both. The local villagers the next day where hard pressed to identify the mass of meat that lay next their governor, as it appears that the brother exacted a terrible vengeance on his mother for the life he was forced to live. Feeling satisfied but not satieted with his actions he next turned to his brother's family. Coming first upon the nursery, and with no remorse he murded both his nieces as they slept in their cribs and crept on to his brother's room. Lance heard a muffled sound in his sleep and rolled over to look upon his wife to make sure she slept soundly and was greeted by a knife slashing at his face. His wife's breath gurgled out of her slit throat, and as the knife drove repeatedly through his body and head, all he could do was watch her die. The last vision Lance deNoble had of the earthly realm was of his wife dying moments before him.
This occured a few hundred years before the rise of Tremere.
-The Hunt- Not being satisfied with merely dying, Lance broke the rules and sought a means to return to the earthly realm and exact vengeance upon his brother. The brother, his hands still bloody with the blood of his family returned to his quarters feeling refreshed and happy. In his elation he attempted another experiment, this one with resounding success. His mind instantly grasped the difference between his earlier failures and this success. It was the blood that he spilled. And with that knowledge and the drive of a man possessed he garnered the skill required to prolong his own miserable life.
After hundreds of years (though time is of little consequence to the dead) of searching, Lance heard tell that there was a route of escape to be found in the realms of Hell, so he began searching there. He thought himself stealthy, but in reality was hidden as well as a kitten on a bare floor with it's head under a rug. Upon reaching the 6th plane of Hell, the torment began. Shortly thereafter, Lance realized the error of his ways and realized that even the rumor he had heard was part of a trap to draw him here, just so that the denizens of this vile place would have one more soul to torment. The greedy creatures of the plane of Hell, has laid an elaborate trap to draw him in to their realm and cleared a path for him to gain access to this deeper plane, simply to have one more soul to rend to pieces. Beelzebub, son of Satan, had another plan for him though. He thought it a great practical joke on humanity to force the flames of Hell in to the veins of this man and send him back to the earthly realm to loose his inadvertant destruction on mankind, since there was no way a mortal man could control the flames that now charred the veins of our Hero.
And so it was that Lance found himself near a pond, behind a tavern. Without knowing it's meaning he assumed the name Chia (actually a rank, slightly above Private, in the Army of Hell). He left the name of Lance deNoble behind so as not to alert his brother, who still had not found his way to the afterlife, that he had returned. He stood for the first time in almost a thousand years on a man's legs, his naked feet barely supporting him in the dew covered grass. His thirst, that he would later learn is unquenchable, drove him to seek the sanctuary of the tavern that he found himself behind. And without his knowledge, his body began to transform. The transformation would take many years to complete, because Beelzebub was correct in that no mortal man could control the flames, however the process of searching, and of being tormented and infused with the flames changed this man in to something else, something less mortal and more able to carry that burden.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:45:14 GMT
little ooc... neener ms_trinket@yahoo.com Message 1 of 1 , Aug 4, 2004
posted, replied... done
neener neener neener
Alexa <good singer but too tired too>
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:45:43 GMT
The Truth Lance Blade Aug 1, 2004
Blades mind after such awakenings is usually scattered and his memory fragmented, and this time is no different than the rest. His walk to Alexandra's room and his kiss are demonstrative of the fact that he was not yet a thinking man, since pure emotion and instinct drove those actions. The first time he rose from his own ashes, his mind remained confused and scattered for weeks afterwards. The second time he was completely recovered within a few weeks, and the third found Blade with his faculties intact inside of a week. As Blade sits on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around the cool flesh of the undead creature that has held his heart captive for so many years his mind sorts and repairs itself. Within minutes of his arrival Blade is nearly operating with the same mental capacity that he has for many years.
With no more mental effort or concentration than a mortal human put in to blinking their eyes or beating their heart, his mind searches the immediate area for potential threats, routes of escape, means of assassination and possible magic. Something under the bed catches his attention, but more from the scent than from anything else at this point. His mind reaches out beyond the room and is reassured at finding the entrance to his labrynth outside on the grounds, and still seemingly intact. The magic items through the castle each scream out to him, and that includes the rocks hidden behind the stones in the fireplace of the throne room. He decides it may be about time to recoved those. Something his mind does fail to touch upon is Darius. His mental acuiting in place,this took place in no more time than is required to blink.
Another part of his mind shifts to his body. His first resurrection left him red as a ruby, the second left his feathered hide as dark an ebony on a moonless night at the bottom of the cave, and the third left his feathers as prismatic as a rainbow at the bottom of a waterfall. Each time he maintained the ability to take the form of himself, as he appeared while still mortal, and this time appears no different, since he sits on the bed in his mortal form. His mortal arms wrapped tightly around Alexandra's body are a bit on the pale side, but they are undoubtedly his arms.
A sudden memory crashing through the final stages of his minds self healing causes him to stop placing kisses on Alexandra's face, and sit suddenly upright with a sharp inward breath. His mind starts going backwards and quickly arrives at his awakening, naked as he was the other times, his possessions consumed in the flames. From there he moves backward and remembers coming to the castle and finding both Alexandra and Seafoam there, but before he had a chance to say much to them he fell in to the dreamless state that he so recently expired from. In his mind he searches the contents of what he had when he arrived, and immediately notes two items that are missing. The first, while having great personal value is not a loss of notable importance, that being his dagger. It was given to him by his brother moments after Blade drove his sword through him, and moments before he died, Blade's vengeance exacted. The item of importance is his sword. A blade crafted from the finest metals obtainable in all the realms of Hell, and forged by Blade's own hand in the fires of the 6th plane of Hell. No hammer or anvil was utilized in the creation of this weapon, as Blade worked the hot metal using his bare hands, working himself in to the metal that was used to create the sword. The metal that was left after the making of the sword went in to creating three daggers, one of which was gifted to Alexandra.
What happened to FlameSabre? And who was able to hurt Blade in so bad a fashion and yet was powerless in delivering the fatal blow? Fear immediately makes it's way in to the base of his spine. The man who led the armies of undead and claimed souls against the original proprietors of the 6th plane of Hell and twice came out victorious, is afraid. That sword could potentially cause many problems.
And then there is the smell on Alexandra. Not physically on her, but emotionally and spiritually. It is the same smell on the souls that where in the 6th plane prior to Blade's arrival. It is the smell of lime time damnation, despair and hopelessness.
Blade turns his head rapidly to the side and hangs it off the side of the bed as he regurgitates his stomach juices, then dry heaves when there are no juices left to bring up, and his stomach cramps from the strain.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:46:29 GMT
The Truth Lance Blade Aug 1, 2004
Blades mind after such awakenings is usually scattered and his memory fragmented, and this time is no different than the rest. His walk to Alexandra's room and his kiss are demonstrative of the fact that he was not yet a thinking man, since pure emotion and instinct drove those actions. The first time he rose from his own ashes, his mind remained confused and scattered for weeks afterwards. The second time he was completely recovered within a few weeks, and the third found Blade with his faculties intact inside of a week. As Blade sits on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around the cool flesh of the undead creature that has held his heart captive for so many years his mind sorts and repairs itself. Within minutes of his arrival Blade is nearly operating with the same mental capacity that he has for many years.
With no more mental effort or concentration than a mortal human put in to blinking their eyes or beating their heart, his mind searches the immediate area for potential threats, routes of escape, means of assassination and possible magic. Something under the bed catches his attention, but more from the scent than from anything else at this point. His mind reaches out beyond the room and is reassured at finding the entrance to his labrynth outside on the grounds, and still seemingly intact. The magic items through the castle each scream out to him, and that includes the rocks hidden behind the stones in the fireplace of the throne room. He decides it may be about time to recoved those. Something his mind does fail to touch upon is Darius. His mental acuiting in place,this took place in no more time than is required to blink.
Another part of his mind shifts to his body. His first resurrection left him red as a ruby, the second left his feathered hide as dark an ebony on a moonless night at the bottom of the cave, and the third left his feathers as prismatic as a rainbow at the bottom of a waterfall. Each time he maintained the ability to take the form of himself, as he appeared while still mortal, and this time appears no different, since he sits on the bed in his mortal form. His mortal arms wrapped tightly around Alexandra's body are a bit on the pale side, but they are undoubtedly his arms.
A sudden memory crashing through the final stages of his minds self healing causes him to stop placing kisses on Alexandra's face, and sit suddenly upright with a sharp inward breath. His mind starts going backwards and quickly arrives at his awakening, naked as he was the other times, his possessions consumed in the flames. From there he moves backward and remembers coming to the castle and finding both Alexandra and Seafoam there, but before he had a chance to say much to them he fell in to the dreamless state that he so recently expired from. In his mind he searches the contents of what he had when he arrived, and immediately notes two items that are missing. The first, while having great personal value is not a loss of notable importance, that being his dagger. It was given to him by his brother moments after Blade drove his sword through him, and moments before he died, Blade's vengeance exacted. The item of importance is his sword. A blade crafted from the finest metals obtainable in all the realms of Hell, and forged by Blade's own hand in the fires of the 6th plane of Hell. No hammer or anvil was utilized in the creation of this weapon, as Blade worked the hot metal using his bare hands, working himself in to the metal that was used to create the sword. The metal that was left after the making of the sword went in to creating three daggers, one of which was gifted to Alexandra.
What happened to FlameSabre? And who was able to hurt Blade in so bad a fashion and yet was powerless in delivering the fatal blow? Fear immediately makes it's way in to the base of his spine. The man who led the armies of undead and claimed souls against the original proprietors of the 6th plane of Hell and twice came out victorious, is afraid. That sword could potentially cause many problems.
And then there is the smell on Alexandra. Not physically on her, but emotionally and spiritually. It is the same smell on the souls that where in the 6th plane prior to Blade's arrival. It is the smell of lime time damnation, despair and hopelessness.
Blade turns his head rapidly to the side and hangs it off the side of the bed as he regurgitates his stomach juices, then dry heaves when there are no juices left to bring up, and his stomach cramps from the strain.
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Post by Admin on Feb 11, 2015 5:47:00 GMT
ms_trinket@yahoo.com Message 2 of 8 , Aug 1, 2004
As Blade leans off the edge of the bed, the lack of contents in his stomach causes his stomach to tighten and cramp. Either that or the thought of what he may be the cause of is causing the cramps. Alexa gasps, almost reeling a moment from the kiss then is about to ask what he is thinking when the sound of retching makes her realize he is indeed ill. "BLADE!!!" She goes to her knees and pulls back his hair out of the way with one hand, the other yanking hard on the hem of her nightgown tearing a swatch off and offering it to him as he finishes, her hand on his skin cool, warming slightly remembering somehow that heat will make him feel better. "Easy baby... easy m'love." "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you", he attempts to smile at her, one hand still clutching his stomach, the butterflies inside it are threatening to handle the knots in his stomach with the Gordian solution. His other hands goes to rubbing his forehead, trying to clear his mind enough to allow him to recall what happened to the sword, but not succeeding. "Wait... you need something hotter than my undead flesh in your hands... don't you?" She bites her lip looking at you speaking softly. "You told me once that fire was in your blood. Will a flame sword help you Blade?" As she speaks, she reaches under the bed and draws Chath Killian, the flame sword she had under there and offers it to him with silent pleading, and whispers. "Tell me how to help Blade... tell me how to heal you." He looks at her and touches her cheek. "Special one, the day your flesh is not enough alone to heal whatever ails me is the day I finally succumb to the fate that awaits us all. What is wrong with me now is not physical, but mental. And no, I do not need your sword, but I do perhaps need to find the fate of mine. The night I returned to the castle, wounded and exhausted, as if from a great battle, I truly did come from a great battle. But the details of the battle and of my own fall and near defeat I cannot recall. I also cannot recall what became of FlameSabre, my weapon. When I arrived that night, did I arrive with weapons or without?" He looks at her, his eyes almost begging for an answer that will relieve him of the burden of searching out this weapon, but already knowing that if he had it with him that night that it would be within the walls of this castle, likely in the very tomb he so recently found himself in. "Yes... you were armed... " She sets the sword on the bed out of reach. "You collapsed and Sea took you to her chambers hoping to watch over you till you woke. I claimed your arms. They now reside in the secured armory of Serenade." She smiled suddenly remembering, "As does the dagger pair you gave me and the feathers. Safe, hidden from prying eyes and sticky fingers." She brushes your cheek and runs the cloth over your lips and chin to dry them. "And my touch shall always be a balm to you Blade. As yours has been to me, even in your absence. I called to you once, when Suffering had me." She looks down ashamed. "It was a moment of weakness and I cried out to you to forgive me for I was about to end my life, to end whatever hold Suffering had on my soul. I knew if my soul died there... " She leaves the rest of the thought unfinished and absently runs her fingers thru the ends of your hair like a child before whispering. "I couldn't bear the thought of you finding me broken... yet here you are... and here I am... broken." "This is important, as I now fear that I may be responsible for what occurred to you, that now leaves you smelling of the realm of my home. Among my chattels was my sword in there?" She nods. "Yes... but how do you think YOU could have been the cause? It was that damned sword Nicola has. It and the one it possessed." She tilts his chin to look at him. "It couldn't have been your fault Blade, you were dead." Blade smiles at her, trying to reassure her, "My lady, I must ask you to tell me where the sword is that I came here with. I do not believe it to be FlameSabre or I would be able to tell it's near me. And there are to many similarities between what has occurred to you and what that damn sword of mine is capable of, though I know now that I should have destroyed it when I had the chance. And I can smell the Brimstone of my home plane on you." He fails to mention that he can also smell the recent despair on her, s well as the fear that now oozes from her pores. He can guess easily enough that whatever she's been through was rough and more mentally afflicting than physically challenging and her earlier comments leave him believing that she doesn't yet trust her own sense and that he is here. Smiling, Alexa holds a hand to him and whispers. "Take my hand. I will take you to your sword; it is not within this Castle any longer but in the catacombs beneath Serenade. It cannot be felt unless you are within the house itself. It is part of its protection. You don't know its there till you are there yourself." She kisses his lips softly and smiles. "Take my hand and I will take us there." Blade stands ignoring the knots in his stomach and scoops her still weak flesh up in to his arms easily, "Tell me which way to go, my dusk rose" She squeals at the surprise of being swept up so suddenly and kisses his neck wrapping her arms about him and whispers moving to cover his eyes with her hand. "Do you trust me?" "Always" A simple response yet his mind still searches for his weapon, fearing for the worst.
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