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Cináed Rubina de Amore

"There is little for me to do or say in this situation. I act as I am expected, or as I am told to."

0 · 520 views · located in Leu Chysallia

a character in “An Evanescent Phantasmagoria”, originally authored by Jakuri-chan, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Cináed Rubina de Amore
Image


Theme: Karakuri Pierrot ~ Piano Cover
Image Song: Reflect ~ Senka ♂

Role: The Pierrot
Gender: Female
Nickname(s): Ciná
Age: 18
Race: Salamander Halfling

Appearance: Petite and weighing little, Cináed is a slender young woman with a very slight build. Her figure is nothing impressive; even though she is an adult, it looks like she is still in the midst of adolescence. The way she looks, she has a very narrow build that almost gives her a lithe look. Yet, with how little Cináed weighs, she’s rather bony at her joints, and it makes her look frail. Cináed’s skin is very fair, yet it has some scars here and there thanks to the fact she was raised in a circus. Some of the stunts she pulled got her hurt. Her hands are calloused, because of her life as a Pierrot, Cináed’s small hands bear the markings of her life. Normally, her cheeks are flush and her lips are on the thin side and a little lacking in color.

Because of her life as a Pierrot, Cináed was made to always keep her hair in a ponytail so that it would not get in the way when she rehearsed or performed. However, her hair is rather uneven and rather poorly kept at times. It’s fairly straight though, so even though she doesn’t keep it as neat as other people, Cináed’s hair is never too unruly. Her hair is a lovely shade of red. When not in a ponytail, her hair falls to about her waist while her kept bangs are a little uneven, and they tend to fall in her green eyes.

Her eyes are about as different as her hair, they are a bright shad of green. In reality her eyes are actually quite large, they make her look innocent, but due to the way she naturally is, Cináed normally leaves her eyes only half open, giving her a rather lax look and drawing attention away from her eyes.

As things go, Cináed rarely has any sort of expression her face. Typically, she’ll look rather blank.

Preferred Clothing: The truth is that she expresses little interest in any sort of specific clothing, she simply wears what she is told to.

Height: 5 ft (152.4 cm)
Weight: 79 lbs (35.9 kg)
Measurements: 27-20-29 (69-51-74)
Hair Color:Ruby Red
Eye Color: Jade

Personality: Cináed is a girl who had been taken into the care of one who did not want her due to this, her personality developed as expected. She’s a quiet girl who is of the submissive sort, she calls herself a leech due to how she functions.

Cináed is uncomfortable making big decisions on her own; she hates people looking to her for guidance. She only feels contented in making choices when there are clear outcomes or she is given options to choose between. Her obedient nature stems from how she was raise; her aunt and uncle instilled into her the guidelines that make up who she is now.

She was taught to be utterly obedient, to never speak out of term in a man’s presence and to only give her own personal opinion when asked for it. If a man disagrees with her words, she was taught to bow to him respectfully and to apologize, apologize, apologize. Cináed was never encouraged to pursue her own interests; she was shaped and formed from her birthing to become what her aunt and uncle considered the perfect girl, quiet, polite and utterly subservient to the opposite gender. Poor thing was never taught how to be her own person, she was only taught how to be an extension of another person, to carry out another’s will. Never to follow her own volition. . . .

Cináed feels utterly lost if she’s left to her own devices you could say, it’s only when she’s latched onto someone whom she deems her superior does she feel at ease. She needs someone above her, and if she loses that she’ll automatically begin seeking out someone to take her place under. Saying this, Cináed is loyal to a fault, once she gives her word of loyalty to someone, she does not break from it unless the person she deems her superior frees her by his or her own order.

Cináed's loyalty extends to her temperament, if the person she perceives as her superior is threatened, insulted or is put down in her presence, she will make her displeasure very clear. This is one of the few ways to see her angered, during this time she seems not a weakling, and she waits not for a turn to speak and she will verbalize her thoughts very clearly.

To people who don’t really understand her submissive nature, her utterly obedient attitudes and such, she may seem strange to them. Yet, she can be a source of solace for anyone if she is given the chance, under her servant-like nature, there is a quiet and sweet girl who is not judgmental, and she will give words of comfort to people if they need it. Cináed holds inside of her head a vast amount of knowledge, though she would rather not have to make choices and use it, Cináed is anything but stupid. She is a very capable advice giver, though she will rarely utter an opinion unless ordered or told to do so.

This was simply how she was raised; Cináed’s caretakers were not the kindest of the bunch. Due to this, it is hard to defer Cináed from a set path once it has been established for her, she does what she is told and it is rare for her to ever branch away from this path. While she does have her own sense of judgment, she will rarely follow through if it informs her that her ordered actions are wrong.

Oddities: For being as small as she is, Ciná has an unusually large appetite, she gets hungry often and tends to eat so much food, you’d think she’d be making herself sick. This couldn’t be further from the truth though, as Cináed always seems perfectly content after a meal despite having consumed enough food for someone twice her size. The girl is a food lover, and appreciates a good meal, always being polite about it and showing her gratitude whenever she’s served or cooked for.

She apparently sleepwalks, that’s what she’s been told at least. Evidently, she wanders out of her bed at random and walks around, even going outside. Cináed has been told she carries the expression of a doll whenever this happens, and if she is addressed, she speaks in a tone of voice that is very, very monotone.

Given her passive and rather submissive nature, as well as the need for her to more or less ‘serve’ under someone, Ciná is a girl who speaks in an usually formal manner, given her upbringing. She does not use abbreviations in her speech, such as ‘I’m’ she will instead say ‘I am.’

In line with how she was raised, Cináed is very much a subservient girl. So much so, that it is almost frightening to think about. It is very rare to see her ever, ever act on her own.

Although she is a Salamander Halfling, Cináed is completely unaware of her heritage and believes herself to be fully human, so whatever powers she holds over fire are still dormant.

Despite her nature, Cináed has a small quirk that is all her own, she gives people nicknames.

Likes: Cooking/baking, sewing, animals, books/reading, writing, the stars, sweets, and looking at the moon.
Dislikes: Having to make decisions, isolation, monsters, blood, pain, death, bitter/sour things, being left to her own volition, and thunderstorms.
Hobbies: Reading, writing, cooking/baking, stargazing, and companionship.

Phobia(s):
Atychiphobia – Failure.
Agliophobia – Pain
Hemophobia – Blood that is not her own
Astraphobia – Thunderstorms
Aquaphobia – Deep water

Skills: She is gifted with an odd knowledge of human anatomy, she knows all of the pressure points on the body, and is completely able to use this to her advantage. Cináed knows how to inflict a massive amount of pain to a person without threatening their life, how to temporally paralyze a person’s limbs, how to knock someone out cold in fifteen seconds and she also knows how to make it appear someone is dead for a short period of time. Even though this knowledge can be used for malicious purposes, it is more often used to calm people down, or to make them feel better if they are in pain from an injury or some sort of ache.

Cináed is fleet of foot; her small size and upbringing have left her as this. She is able to deftly dodge people, and to slip in and out of crowds if she must. Also, her training has left her rather graceful.

Due to her nature and rearing, Cináed is a skilled cook, while not the greatest, she is at least able to make food according to a recipe and have it taste as it should. Nothing special about it really.

Weapon: Chakrams

Fighting Style: She does not have a very defined fighting style due to never having to do real battle, however, if she were made to fend for herself, Cináed’s manner of battle would be flighty, graceful and quick. Her training as a Pierrot has lead her to be skilled in using chakrams, which could double as a viable weapon.

Abilities: Recollection; because she has read so very many books and such in her lifetime, Cináed is gifted with a wealth of miscellaneous knowledge that she can recall at will. The information she is privy to varies greatly by topic. As she was never given a formal education, all she has ever learned came from the books she read.

As of now, Cináed has no other abilities that are truly noteworthy.

Personal History: Cináed’s very life was threatened before she even took her first breath. Before her existence was even known of, Cináed’s father was slaughtered, his death used as an example to the public for what ‘treason’ could cost them. The reasons her father was accused of treason remains unknown, but this is why he was killed. Grieving over his death, Cináed’s mother fell ill shortly after, before finding out she was pregnant. Upon this discovery, she was shell-shocked, and became frightened for the life growing inside of her. Her husband having been executed for an unknown crime, it was feared what would happen to his offspring—would it too be sentenced to death for some unknown reason?

Cináed’s mother was born of a proud lineage, the de Amore family, the heiress to the family’s name and privileges, Violetta de Amore was a proud woman who fell in with a commoner, a strange man whose true history was a tale unknown to all but he. His name was Julius Lockhart. . . . It did not take long for them to wed, yet, shortly after their marriage, Julius’ execution was carried out. Still carrying her proud name, Violetta came to be with child.

In the fear she carried for the child’s life, Violetta contacted her sister shortly before she was due to give birth, and pleaded with her and her husband to take care of the baby. Violetta’s sister was an odd woman, the black sheep of the de Amore family, and estranged from her sibling—instead of being a lady of aristocracy, she instead ran away from home at a young age when her strangeness was rejected by her parents. She went by the name of Athene, and after fleeing from home, she married a the son of a ringmaster, he went by the name of Maxwell. Quickly the two came to live and help run the circus . . . Athene eventually came to contact her sister again, letting her know of her wellbeing and such, as well as where she was.

The two never really got along very well, but still, they were sisters. After some time of pleading with her, Violetta received Athene’s reluctant aid in protecting the life of her child. For the first time she fled from home, Athene returned to the de Amore estate in time for Cináed’s birth. After she was born, and given a name, Athene took her niece off quickly and returned to her husband and the circus they travelled with. Because she had been begged and pleaded with to take the child, Athene did not hold much affection for the little Cináed. Regarded as such, the girl was raised with little love. She was not abused in any manner, simply, she just was not shown acceptance, support or anything of the sort.

Cináed grew up in the care of her aunt and uncle, unaware of her birthrights or heritage. As far as she knew, she was simply the daughter of a ringmaster and his assisting wife. Nothing more. She learned and grew up performing in the circus herself, helping to care for the animals and people who travelled with them. . . . Never given a formal education, the only way Cináed every learned anything was from people who took pity on her in the towns they remained in, strangers taught her the basics of reading, writing, and math. All the while Athene and Maxwell formed and shaped Cináed to be a subservient girl, someone who wouldn’t get in their way or annoy them. They wanted no trouble from her so they taught her to bent to their will and to not question what it was they told her to do.

For nearly eighteen years, Cináed lived like this. Never knowing any other way of life, always assuming that this was how she was suppose to exist. . . . It was shortly before she was to be eighteen, Violetta contacted Athene once more and said it was time for Cináed to be returned to her rightful place in society—her birth was known of now and she was already betrothed to the son of the local ruling Duke of the region, Louis Auttenberg. It was then that the reality of her birth was told to Cináed, she learned she was not the daughter of Athene and Maxwell, but that they were her aunt and uncle. Confused and not understanding any of this, Cináed simply remained passive toward everything she was told, as her existence fell to pieces around her. It was how she was raised after all. Upon being returned home, Cináed at last met face to face with her birthmother, with Violetta.

Violetta herself was still a weak and ailing woman, and because Cináed was raised as a submissive girl who had an innate need to latch onto someone and deem them her superior, the girl bent to the will of a mother she hardly knew, learning she would soon be married and be made to live the life of a noble’s wife.

Cináed has been with her mother for but a month now, adjusting to life as aristocracy without questioning anything she is told to do. Upon her eighteenth birthday, she is to be wed to Louis Auttenberg, the son of the local corrupted and greedy Duke Auttenberg who reigns over the region. A notable womanizer, Cináed does not understand his ways, yet still, she will go through with the marriage because she does not know how to say no. She is being told what to do and thus, she believes it to be best. . . .

The night before her birthday is fast approaching, and it will be then that Cináed attends a party thrown in the honor of her and Louis’ marriage. . . .

Other:

So begins...

Cináed Rubina de Amore's Story

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The entire town of Cellé was in an uproar that night as the whole of the town celebrated the coming marriage of their Duke’s only son, Louis Auttenberg. The streets were adorned with lanterns, booths and such were set up along the walkways, food and festivities were free to all citizens. . . . Everything was provided by the Duke himself in his happiness for the marriage of his son to the daughter of the once proud and powerful de Amore family. The whole of that night was meant to be one where everyone could intermingle with one another, the economic classes and races of all were not to matter in the least, as far as the Duke was concerned, that night was the one he would overlook commoners and those of a poor stature wandering into his home.

The entire city was alive with the celebration, from the upper class districts which were closely monitored by the Duke’s well trained Chevalier, all way down to the lower class areas which were looked over by those who were not of great enough skill to become Chevalier. Everywhere was lit up with lanterns and such, joyous music played everywhere and everyone was invited to join in on the fun.

And, most people did indeed take part in the festival, though most could not have cared at all about the fact that Louis Auttenberg was to be wed the coming day, all they truly cared about was the free food and drink offered up to them, after all, it was not every day that such things were just offered up, especially in a world which was slowly dying. The festival was short-lived, but it was a time to forget about the state in which Leu Chrysallia lay, and to lose oneself in the fun.

The hub of the celebration though, was of course the Duke’s own home, his rather lavish manor. Though the man provided the town with festivities and material and such for an evening of delight, the best of things was reserved for his home alone, and for those who would come into it. It was there after all, that the public and all the common-blooded folks could come to catch a glimpse of their future leader and his wife-to-be. The coming morning would be one spent giving well wishes to Louis and his fiancé as they would stand before the Goddess in her church and made their vows to one another while tonight was just meant to be one of fun and delight, light and unserious.

Even if most people knew nothing about the Duke-to-be’s fiancé, few thought anything of her. After all, the wives of any man in power were nothing more than idle background figures, they did nothing but quietly support their husbands as they carried out their duties, no matter what choices they did or how they treated people. As far as all those of a common class assumed, this Cináed de Amore would be a woman who was no different. People solely knew this girl as a daughter of a dying name, born of a once proud linage and powerful family. She was the only heir to the de Amore name now, the last hope for it to be left with any glory as the name would die with the utterance of ‘I do.’

Little was known of her, and only a few had glimpsed upon her return to Cellé some weeks prior to the announcement of Louis’ and her own marriage. Where she had been the last years, no one knew, and few really cared. She was a noble, aristocracy, and someone who would be no different than those who came before, so what did it matter? Simple, it didn’t.
The only people whom did care anything at all about Cináed’s past were those whose own daughters had been passed up to become Louis’ fiancé and eventual wife. Only those few wished to garner some truth about her heritage and raising. And when they failed to do even that—they began the rumors which circulated through the houses of the rich, saying terrible things about her, gossiping idly about things which had no true merit. . . . Terrible titles were splashed upon Cináed’s name, she had been called a demoness, a whore, a harlot, a succubus. . . . Simply because she was envied for becoming the fiancé of Cellé’s future Duke.

Spiteful words were something Cináed herself had grown accustom to. Though she was still in the midst of adjusting to the life of being nobility, the once Pierrot was not at all fazed by the things said behind her back, the young woman did not even bat an eyelash if she were called a harlot. The reasons for this were that she did not understand the reasoning behind insulting her, she didn’t know why it was there was a need to address her as that. Cináed de Amore knew her own past, and she knew that such things did not serve any purpose in her living. People made the choices for her and what she was told to do were the things that were for her best interests.

She had been with her birthmother for the last month now, with Violetta, and she had come to take all the things she said to heart. Violetta was the one who was now making the choices for her, she was the one who knew best. And soon enough, Louis Auttenberg would be the one who knew best for her. . . . Her future husband. Even if she did not understand why it was that the Duke himself were throwing such a large and grand celebration in honor of their unison, Cináed knew better than to question it. The marriage was a part of her life, just something she had to do for her better interests—that was what her mother evidently believed. That was it. She had to do what it was that she was told to, it was the only way she knew how to live.

From life as a Pierrot to this—taking orders from someone was the only way she knew how to live.

Even if no one knew anything about her, even if a commemoration was being held partly in her honor, Cináed had no thoughts pertaining to any of it, to anyone at all. She was an idle existence . . . all she believed and understood was that she needed to follow the instructions given to her. And this is exactly what she did.

As soon as evening had fallen that night, and the lanterns had lit and the festivities had began in Cellé, Cináed had left the de Amore home for the Auttenberg’s manor, dressed up to look as the noble she was evidently. Her form was clad in a simple gown, white and satin, it was smooth, left without patterns, it bore no straps to it, being a simple thing which wrapped around her small body fittingly, snuggly going under her arms while it allowed room for her legs to move in it, a slit was cut into its side that travelled up to her knee. Her arms were adorned with simple white gloves which matched the gown she wore, silver bracelets hung from her small wrists while her neck was left covered in far too many pearls. The once Pierrot’s fiery red hair was brought up into a rather intricate style, a sort of tiara upon her head as strands of pearls were left to hang from her skull and fall down her back. With silvery sandaled high heels to complete the ensemble, and a painted face, Cináed truly looked the part of nobility.

Though, the cosmetics staining her face did not at all seem to suit her. Those false red lips looked wrong, in essence, as if they did not at all belong on her face. Cináed did not seem a woman who was made to wear make-ups.

Yet, somehow, everything came together upon her and made her look like the aristocrat she was born to be. The dress, jewelry and everything else melded together upon her small form. . . . And no matter the things said about her as she had entered the Auttenberg’s home that eve seemed to have any effect upon her as she moved with seemingly effortless grace through the foyer and to the home’s overly intricate marble staircase. The aged noblewomen of Cellé called her a many horrid things under their breaths to each other while the men simply eyed her with suspicion. There was still much bitterness in the lot of them for her engagement to Louis, despite the nobleman himself being a rather well known philanderer.

Following the words of her mother, Cináed simply acted the part she was made to play, the perfect bride to be, a silent almost doll who never spoke unless spoken to, and who never disagreed with the opinions of those around her. She had greeted her future father-in-law and her fiancé with a well-practiced curtsy and a rather polite greeting, stating it was an honor to be in their presence, and she quietly took a seat when it was offered to her by Louis himself.

The evening played out as it was expected to for the first hours, Cináed remained quiet, a rather distance expression upon her face as she did nothing to make a horrid impression upon the people of Cellé. She was an idle looking girl then, simple and quiet, the perfect girl. . . . It was only when Duke Auttenberg himself stood to his feet and said something to his son did Cináed budge an inch.

A hand was placed upon her shoulder, catching her attention. Her green eyes casted upward to the one whom had touched her—her fiancé. “Cináed, come and stand, my father wishes to show the two of us off together now.” He said to her, offering her his hand.

“Yes M’Lord.” Cináed responded to him respectfully, placing her own small hand in his as he pulled her seat out from behind her and aided her in getting to her feet. Without a thought, Cináed allowed Louis to guide her along, toward the railings which lined the upper half of the manor’s foyer, so that she and Louis might be shown to the nobility of Cellé as the couple they were bound to become the coming morning.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck
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Max really didn't want to partake in the festivities, it broke his route, which he held in very high regard, but he learned a few years back that if there is a festival, and Max wasn't there, people knocked on his door, and he hated people knocking on his door... Why live in a basement if you want to be bothered by people? So he forced himself to leave his dark, paper-filled home, and go and interact with people, much to his dismay...

Right away, four men forced him to have a toast with them. One of the men forced a flagon of mead into Max's hand and said, "They're giving us all the mead we can drink!" he raised his flagon, and the others followed suit, "To the Duke's soon to be daughter-in-law!" Max raised his flagon to meet with the others'.

Max wet his lips with the mead, then set it down and said, "Looking at her you'd think the Duke's son got off on children!" The men began laughing, then talking about what they would do to her if they were the Duke's son, which marked the end of Max's stay at the table... He continued through the crowds, giving the occasional "Hello," to people he knew. The entire event was not tasteful in the slightest, it was loud, there was rubbish all over the place, drunken men littered the area while the few that weren't drunk danced in the middle of the streets with the women, children charged here and there, knocking things over...

Max felt a hand grab hold of his, it was the owner of the cafe above his home, she practically threw him in the streets and forced him to dance with her, along with multiple other women who were dancing. Max smiled through the whole thing, and the first chance he got he slipped away. He figured that the festivities would be less... festive... by the manor, so he made his way there, planning on saying his part to the Duke and his son, and his son's fiancé. Being the only person living in the town with any sort of magical upbringing, the Duke had asked, more like ordered, Max for help a couple times. He didn't like the Duke, nor did he like his son... but Max really didn't like nobles at all.

He made his way to the Manor, it was very aureate and florid, but all Nobles had to show off their wealth while they caused war and strife, not caring who gets murdered in the process. Max got ready for the obnoxiously magniloquent way of speech that the Duke had, Max absolutely hated it... It wasn't until then that max realized he wasn't smiling anymore, he quickly corrected this, but it was still odd...

Two guards near the front entrance to the Manor were searching the area, as soon as one spotted Max, he yelled, "Hey stop!" max stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the two guards as they moved closer to him. One guard looked at him and said, "Dark eyes and hair, and he doesn't look very strong!"

"But the girl said he was about 5'7'', this guy is taller than that!" the other guard said, pushing the other guard away a bit.

"She said maybe! Everything else fits, it had to be this guy!" the guard said, moving forward and moving his pike towards Max's neck.

Max kept smiling and asked, "What is this about sirs? I was just on my way to pay respect to the Duke."

"The girl told us all about it! Well, she didn't tell us all about it... but she will, now that we have the criminal!" the guard said, forcefully.

A couple people from the crowd who knew Max went over to the guards, one of them asked, "What's this all about?"

"This man attacked and threatened a young lady!" The men started laughing, "What's so funny!?"

"Trust me," one of the men said, "You've got the wrong guy, Max is the nicest man I've ever met, just ask anyone in town!" A few more people joined the men to see what was happening, and they all corroborated his story.

"Well how many people that fit his description live in town?" The guard inquired, looking out into the small crowd that surrounded him.

"None," Max said, smiling, "Perhaps you were played? Where were you guarding before this little... scuffle?"

The guard thought for a moment, then ran back to where he was stationed, his fellow guard soon followed. Max quickly thanked the crowd for helping him out, they simply nodded then returned to the festivities. Max then entered the foyer of the Duke's manor, it was extravagant and filled with all the higher-class people of Cellé. Max didn't really talk with the higher-class so he didn't know any of the nobles, but he noticed the Duke and his Son, along with the new bit of eye-candy up on the second floor, flaunting the girl like a new piece of jewelry, it made Max sick...

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A hand placed upon her satin skirt, Cináed lightly lifted the material up in order to take proper steps in time with those of Louis as he led her along toward the railing of the foyer’s second floor. The strands of pearls adorning her hair moved in time behind her, quietly pantomiming the movements made by the one-Pierrot. Her form compared to that of her future husband was diminutive at best—Louis was easily a man who stood more than a head above her. He was tall, strong and considered a handsome fellow by the standards held by many people. He was a man born into a position of future power, and wealth, there was a charm to him that allowed his words to easily make the hearts of most women swoon . . . even with his known reputation as someone who was nothing more than a mere pleasure seeker.

Many women still fell to the allure Louis possessed. And as a result, there were a great deal many women who also wound up with their hearts broken by him as well. Cináed knew the tales about him, her young ears had heard the stories whispered among the gossip within Cellé. The many tales of the happenings that occurred with Louis and some of the young women within the city’s walls. The woman had heard these accounts, and she was more than aware of what sort of man he was, as was most everyone, even if such things were not spoken of aloud.

To regard Louis as nothing more than a womanizer, such a thing was considered an insult to the Auttenberg name. Even among the common folk, and the town’s aristocracy, the son of their reigning ruler was indeed someone to whisper about instead of speaking about him audibly.

Cináed was insulted and called a great number of things for her engagement to the man, so many of Cellé’s nobility had offered up the hands of their own daughters for marriage to Louis, and they’d been denied instead, for a girl who appeared as if from nowhere. Such a thing was considered an insult by many of town’s aristocrats. And, as she was, Cináed was simply existing now as it was expected of her—the woman who was her birth mother, Violetta, had instructed her on how she was to present herself tonight. The words spoken of her by others, the insults were only words that held no importance to her in the very least, they were just things these people were saying.

All that mattered was that she did as she was told, that she acted polite and that she did nothing to bring insult to Louis or to Duke Auttenberg. Halting in front of the railing as Louis did, Cináed allowed her released hand to return to her front, clasping the gloved appendage against her other as she stood strange with her eyes cast down, an expression of apathy lacing her done up face.

She stood silent as the Duke introduced herself and Louis as what they were to be—husband and wife. A smile lit up the face of the aged Duke as he looked upon the two of them, Louis smiling a falsely abashed smile while rubbing the back of his head. Cináed remained still as she had been, giving no reaction to the words spoken by her future father-in-law at all. The Duke himself gave a small bit of applause to the couple, which of course sparked an outpour of it from the crowd below as they hesitantly followed the example of their leader.

As a hand and arm slid around her waist, Cináed’s body tensed up as she did her best to maintain the form she had taken upon halting at the railing. At the sudden feeling of the arm around her backside however, Cináed, despite her normally unresponsive ways, allowed her green eyes to travel upward quietly—an expression of questioning upon that face of hers. Standing right next to her, was Louis of course, a smile upon his face that was obviously a rehearsed one. To the crowd of nobles he gave his smile, before looking back down upon her and opening those brown eyes of his . . . a glint going through them that spoke of the man’s true feelings regarding this.

Disgust, there was pure disgust in his eyes regarding her. Cináed could clearly see it, though she gave no reaction toward it, simply she acknowledged it. The man wanted nothing to do with her, he didn’t want anything to do with the wedding tomorrow. He was simply acting this way in order to please his father. . . . The hand Louis kept at her side suddenly tightened upon her flesh a bit, gripping onto her hip roughly, to the point of pain. The sudden surge of discomfort was enough to elicit a reaction from Cináed, a clear expression of pain travelled along her features along with a muffled yelp.

To keep herself from losing control over her actions, to keep from disobeying what it was Violetta had told her to do, the redhead found herself biting down on her lower lip, while it was several of the Duke’s Chevalier vanished off into the hallways which led to the private quarters of the manor.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck
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#, as written by Zentose
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The Duke gave the expected introductions of his son and the new bride-to-be in his typical booming grandiloquent voice. All the aristocracy clapped for the new couple, while they all held in aspersions towards the new woman. Max, being good friends with most of the commoners, had heard all the rumors the aristocracy had spread. Rumors that she was a whore, she slept with sheep, she was really a young male eunuch, all of them. He hated the idea of a seemingly beautiful, innocent, girl being berated with such insults, it disgusted him. This is why I don't mingle with the aristocrats... Max thought to himself, trying harder than usual to keep up his smile.

All the damned aristocrats were staring up at the Duke, none even looking at the so called "harlot." Then Max noticed something that caused the smile to erase from his face, the Duke's son was pressuring the young girl's waist, causing her pain, which none of the other damnable aristocrats noticed, or maybe they just didn't care. max's chivalry took over his body for a moment, he gripped the dirk strapped to his belt, hidden by his coat, he began to unsheathe it slowly, but after a moment, stopped and let it go, reason returning to his mind. He wanted the little prick to pay, yet he also didn't like the fact that the woman didn't stand up for herself, he hated weak-willed women. If something is to be done, she should at least try it herself first... He thought, writing a small note on a pad of paper he carried with him, then folded the paper to be small, it said, "No man can take away your freedom, lash out, look for help, if none is to be found in your inner circle, branch outward..." Once the duke came down so people could offer their gifts to the couple, he would slip this into her hand... hoping she would actual do something...

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The look upon Cináed’s face remained as it was before, one full of discomfort. The woman allowed her teeth to remain clenched about her bottom lip in order to keep from losing control over herself due to the pain that Louis was inflicting upon her waist by applying so very much pressure. . . . Those eyes of his possessed nothing but malice. He didn’t want to marry her, he wanted nothing to do with her. All of this was only for his father, only for him, and only for the power he would be granted once all of this was through. Louis only wanted the power that came with this marriage. The title of Duke, to rule over Cellé, that was all he wanted, nothing but that. Violetta had told Cináed to behave herself, and to act as a proper woman, silent, and unquestioning. . . .

Yet, what was she suppose to do right now, what was she suppose to do now that the man she was suppose to marry was hurting her? He was showing that he clearly wanted nothing to do with her. . . . Violetta had never told her about what it was she was suppose to do in a case like this, if he was to start hurting her.

A rather soft whimper escaped from the redhead’s throat as Louis continued to gradually increase the grip he had around her waist, tighter and tighter. . . . It was beginning to get hard to breathe, and her ribs were beginning to hurt her. Biting down on her lip harder, Cináed visibly winced as her neck went a little limp and her hair proceeded to act as a curtain to the world around her. No one was helping her, and no one was paying any heed to the obvious pain she was in at all. Even if someone were to see that something were clearly wrong with her, no one was trying to provide any aid to Cináed, no one at all.

It h-hurts, and I ca-cannot breathe. . . . she thought, body beginning to shake as she instinctively moved her thin arms up and set her hands against the arm around her middle. She did not meant to even do so, but Cináed’s body was reacting in a way she didn’t realize, trying to preserve itself from the pain and discomfort. Even if this marriage was forced, why was Louis hurting her so? All she was doing was following the words of her mother, nothing more. . . .

Tears began to slide out of Cináed’s eyes as Louis just maintained that pressure around her waist, and her own hands were kept against his arm, trying to loosen it from her with effort made only in vain. It wasn’t until the Duke had called his son away, to come with him to the first floor to properly greet the guests that the pressure around Cináed’s waist was gone, and she was left to fall to the floor in a heap as she choked on the air she was bringing into her lungs. The grip Louis had, had upon her waist had been squeezing not only her ribs, but also the lower parts of her lungs, and it’d been imposing on how well she could breathe.

“Coming father.” Louis had answered to the Duke, just letting go of her without a single warning as he quickly went to join his the ruler as they descended the stairs. The release just brought the redheaded Pierrot to drop to her knees, hunched over as her own arms were left to wrap around her own middle lightly.

She coughed and choked as no heed was paid to her and her collapsed form. . . . Why? Why was this happening? Violetta had never said anything about this sort of outcome, she’d never told Cináed what to do in this situation. . . .

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Her breathing began to stabilize a bit at least, though her form still shook from the shock of the pain inflicted upon her by Louis. Yes, Cináed was able to clearly perceive the disgust he felt toward her, but why was it then he was doing all of this? She herself knew her reasoning—because it seemed as if it were the best course of action her life could take, because it had been decided for her by people who had more experience, who would know better than she would about many things. What room did she have to question those choices they made for her? Her breathing was still on the quick side of the spectrum as she remained against the ground, just trying to understand it.
Was Louis simply marrying her to please his father? Had this engagement been something that had been decided for him, not by him? If that were true, then why was it that he was choosing to hurt her. . . ?

This, all of this, wasn’t all of it being done because it was in both of their better interest to marry one another? Of course love was not going to be part of the equation, Cináed didn’t even know what love was. Why is he so displeased? I have done as I was told to, I was quiet, obedient and I displayed no signs of rejection toward him. . . . Her eyes shut tightly, the once-Pierrot continued to shake as tears of uncertainty made their way to rimming her eyes. This sort of occurrence, she’d not been given any instructions on how to handle it. No, Violetta had only told her how to act in the face of everything going right. To behave, be proper, be silent and respectful. . . .

It was the sound of footsteps approaching her that caught hold of her attention. Not sure of what to do, or how to at all handle the situation of Louis’ displeasure, Cináed could only bring herself to quietly look upward. Breath still quick within her small body. Her green eyes travelled up the form of another female, one of Duke Auttenberg’s own Chevalier, his personal guardians. Tears cutting through her cosmetic covered face, the girl just looked upon this silent woman, and then turned to look at the wordless hand that had been extended out to her as the Chevalier knelt down to her, just holding that hand out to her.

She was offering her assistance despite not being given an order to by anyone, was she? No one had at all told this Chevalier to come over as she had. . . . Cináed didn’t understand it, how people could simply move to their own accord, and make their own choices when they weren’t sure if they were really for their best interests. It seemed such a frightening thing to her, when one had so little experience. Yet, there was no denying that people made their own decisions. This Chevalier indeed had, there was no other reason she would have for silently just offering a hand to assist a person when no order was ushered by her commander.

Those confused eyes of Cináed’s went from the girl’s face, to the hand again, true uncertainty laying upon her features as she hesitantly began to remove an arm from around her waist, and began to move her hand toward the Chevalier’s extended one. . . .

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As Crowly walked up the stairs, the timing couldn't be any more perfect. Most of the crowd downstairs were gazing at the beauty of the invisible pianist. Soon enough, as he walked upstairs, he spotted the Duke and his son making their way down to greet their people, the son oddly disgruntled, yet his father overenthusiastic, to the point where he looked oddly jolly. Or senile...Crowly thought. He stopped in the middle of the stairs, gazing up at the took, kneeling and bowing, his hands behind his back. "Greetings milord", Crowly smiles respectively, his eyes closed, as he stands up once again, his hands behind his back. The Duke watches Crowly confusedly, surprised by his sudden greeting,"Erm...hello..." The Duke's son, Louis, stares at Crowly with an expression of utmost annoyance and impatience, his eyes glaring daggers at him. Louis clears his throat, as he matter-of-factly accuses Crowly, "Aren't you supposed to be down there with the piano, that's why we hired a second-rate entertainer like you..." Crowly only smiled at him kindly, before nodding, putting his hand up in an apologetic manner. "Yes, milords, I do apologize, but don't you remember, milord? You told me to escort your son and the bride to be, to their rooms for discussion about the marriage, whilst you greet your guests." Crowly opens his eyes revealing them to a bright fuchsia, staring into the pupils of the Duke. The Duke's own eyes become slowly glazed, staring at Crowly's own. He immediately smiles, before nodding, "Ahh! Yes! Thank you for that, Mr. Crowly! I remember now. Come my boy, go with Crowly and find the bride to be, there is much discussion before we introduce you all! I'll be downstairs with the guests, and also providing the entertainment while Crowly is gone! Don't worry my boy, you have fun with your fiancé, I'll worry about things on this end."

Crowly looks behind him looking back at Louis, his eyes back to normal, his expression much more serious...even filled with disgust. Louis stares at him with the same obnoxious expression, his arms crossed, "I'm not going with you, and if you think you're going to take me, it's no. I'm not going with that whore, nor will I listen to the likes of-" Crowly quickly slaps him, though he slightly overdo's it, watching as Louis slams to the railing of the stairs groaning. Crowly momentarily became worried, but instead of screams of outrage towards his action, there was laughter as the king danced to the invisible music of the piano in the middle of the reception and crowd. He snickers as he kneels down, holding Louis's chin, whispering with a smile on his face,"Now thank you for shutting up. And before you complain to your petty guards, please note, that I can easily kill you. Just one slap almost knocked you over the stairs, how much force do you think it'll take me to snap your little neck...? Scream and you'll die within a millisecond, before anyone could important registers the sound." Louis's expression becomes one of fear, covered up by a slim and pathetic facade of annoyance. Crowly brings Louis up with ease, putting a hand on his shoulder, whispering close to him. "You're going to walk with me upstairs, and we're going to bring your fiancé. Both of you are going to come with me into a room, and then we'll discuss from there, whether you get to live or not."

Slowly the two of them walked up the stairs, Crowly going through the plan in his head. He would bring Louis and his fiancé into a room together. He would immediately kill Louis, and hypnotize the girl, making her admit to be the murderer in front of the crowd that would soon come after the incident. He shakes his head, looking at Louis. He's heard about Cináed, on how she was some useless harlot that came out of the blue. There was also no evidence that she was of royal blood. A whore killing his fiancé for money. Perfect. Crowly coughs slightly, starting to feel the small fatigue of energy that he's used, symptoms of his thirst noticeable. He sighs, smirking, he knew that he wouldn't be thirst for a very, very long time. This mission was easy to him so far, compared to the others he's done. He's earned his rightful spot at Number 2, staying in that spot for a long, long time. They never got his name, or any hints to his appearance at all, but they DID give him an alias: Crow. They named him Crow, because there were always black feathers around the bodies that fell under his scythe. But he knew that even he had his limits. He knew that if he was to have a conflict in this place, he would have to abandon the mission, and quite possibly his life. The Duke is no joke, this little walk in the park into a battle of life and death. He shakes his head once more, looking at the top of the stairs for the said 'whore', smiling at the fact that there were no guards nearby. But instead, Crowly sees something else, that causes him to falter, painfully squeezing Louis's shoulder, hearing him grunt in pain. Louis stared at Cináed, her own eyes full of confusion and fear, he stares at her, seeing his own fear in her eyes, as well as the childlike innocence. He curses under his breathe at himself, for being such a softy for the past centuries. He couldn't let, of all people, her to receive the blame for this, hell she's already considered scum to most people around this city.

Should've thrown the fool off the fucking stairs, Crowly thought to himself, groaning inwardly.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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Cináed withdrew her hand into her own chest after she’d been wordlessly aided to her feet again, one of her thin arms remained placed lightly around her waist, a faint echo of pain still resounding within her diaphragm from the force Louis had placed upon it. . . . The nameless and kind Chevalier she found herself uncertain about simply nodded once done, and walked away, giving no name, and saying not a word. It was something she could never understand, how someone could be so certain of their own choices and actions. A forlorn expression still passed over the once-Pierrot’s features, tears still pricking at those emerald colored eyes of hers. Is the act of having all decisions made for you the most certain course of action? Is that not always for your own better interest. . .? she found herself silently asking that question.

All her life, the one thing she had been raised to believe was that every single choice that was made for her, was always what was best. Her aunt and uncle, and Violetta, all the things they said and decided for her, they were suppose to make her life a better one, and it was suppose to make it easier, yet still. Violetta’s words, her instructions upon what it was Cináed was suppose to do within herself that evening, they had not covered anything like this situation, if Louis were to harm and show malice toward her. No, Cináed had no guidance on how it was that she was suppose to handle the situation now—what course of action would she take? Did what Violetta said still hold any credence now that circumstances had changed on her? Was she still suppose to act polite, well-mannered and to be a silent doll as she had been before Louis had nearly crushed her diaphragm in his displeasure?

She simply did not know. Cináed had no idea on what it was she was suppose to do now, making choices was not her forte, it’d never been something she really had to do, not on a level this great before. How she chose to act now, it was detrimental in many ways. Violetta hadn’t seemed to consider the fact that Louis might treat her this way when she’d instructed Cináed on how to behave.

Am I left t-to act of my own accord? Cináed thought, a shiver running up her spine as the very notion of having to make such choices on her own was a fright. If I were to begin thinking on my own now, there is no telling what chaos might ensue from my inexperience, if I were to cause a problem, then what would happen? She began to bite into her painted lower lip, as she brought her arms around her shoulders, shuddering into herself, tears threatening to consume her eyes again. No, I . . . I cannot, I just cannot. . . . The weight of her heart seemed to increase, as it felt as if the organ had ceased its beating and sunk into the chasms of her stomach.

So, if she would not begin acting of her own volition, what was it then Cináed was going to do now that the circumstances around her had changed? With that unwillingness to act on her own, the only choice the redhead seemed to have was to adapt Violetta’s instructions to the current situation, and to simply continue acting as she had before, no matter what Louis put her through. What else could she do?

Taking in a shaky breath Cináed worked to recover her fissured composure, ready to resume acting as per the words of her birth mother, ready to become doll-like again. Even if she didn’t understand how it was others were able to act on their own choices, it was something she did not wish to come to understand. What was decided for her, that was best. Yes. . . .

As Cináed regained herself, the sounds of merriment entered her ears, applause, laughter and praise . . . for silence. She knew that the Duke had thrown a citywide celebration in honor of her and Louis approaching marriage, and for his own home, he would go and hire an entertainer—a musician. And though it did indeed sound as if people were cheering on a marvelous music maker, all she could hear among it all was silence. No music, not a single note of it. Despite her intent on acting the part of a doll once more, the once-Pierrot found her feet quietly moving her to turn about to gaze down at those on the first floor of the large foyer. Moving her hands to grip upon the lavish, stone railing that lined the second floor of the room, the girl’s green eyes took it in. The sight of a crowd giving ovation to an empty piano. What is. . . ? Are they bewitched? Captured under the charm of some caster?

In her years as a Pierrot, she had been allowed to see many odd sights, and though she was a girl unwilling to act upon her own preference, Cináed knew a wealth of things that many whom were bound to cities like Cellé did not. She had seen many things in her travels and performances, one of those being a powerful charm caster who could bring many under their spell at once. She had seen it before, and though she herself had not been influenced by the hexes for reasons unknown, seeing such sights as these were ones that sent fear into the redhead, as well as puzzlement.

“I . . . th-the Duke, Lord Auttenberg should be informed of this occurrence. . . .” she murmured to herself, voice wavering. Though acting on her own was not something Cináed did as she would think over it, if overcome, the truth was that she would. Taking a hand upon her skirt, she moved, her body trembling as uncertainty played over her pale face. She headed for the stairs, only to halt her movements and begin taking steps backward as the sight of her fiancé being brought up the stairs by an unknown man, and even Cináed was able to tell that it was a forced act. Louis was not moving with him by choice. Letting go of her skirt, Cináed found herself assuming a defensive stance as the stranger looked upon her, applying painful pressure to Louis’ shoulder. The girl’s exposed skin went gooseflesh as she began hearing blood pounding in her ears—feeling her face going hot from a mix of panic and something else.

I-Is he the one responsible for bringing a hex upon the whole of the crowd in the foyer? she thought. He remained silent, not saying a thing to her, not ordering her to do anything, no, instead, it seemed as if he was looking upon her with some semblance of . . . pity? H-here, and now, wh-what is it that I am suppose to do? Violetta’s instructions never detailed how I should act in the face of this sort of occurrence.

Her heart fluttered to life in her chest, and Cináed realized with much dread that she had no options. . . . .she had to act of her own accord now. Finding her small body shaking, a strange and uncertain expression upon her face, the girl’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. Opening her false red lips, she attempted to speak uneasy words, “Y-You, it was you who bewitched all of those people down below, wasn’t it. . . ?” Cináed asked, voice wavering. The redhead swallowed back the flightiness in her voice best she could as she attempted to speak again, “Why is it you are here, threatening Louis as you are?”

No, she was not at all a foolish girl, though Cináed was rare to speak on her own as this, she was a smart enough girl to realize the truth without saying it. The horrors the world, she had seen them firsthand as a Pierrot, the corruption of nobility, all of it, she’d witnessed it all, but had never given it a thought herself. There had been no reason for her to do so. Her aunt and uncle had told her those matters were not something to concern herself with, yet still, she did know how it was many people regarded those as Louis and the Duke himself. Though I will not speak it aloud, I believe I understand that he is not acting entirely of his own accord here.

After that thought formed in her mind, Cináed heard footsteps approaching, ones that indicated a light frame, and her head craned about to find the Chevalier from before, the girl who had aided her to her feet, barrelling toward the scene, shouting for more guards to come arrest the man in question. But, the other Chevalier were all under his spell, his hex. . . . And her going at him alone while Louis was being held a hostage. This caused Cináed's lips to move of their own accord, from both uncertainty and the fear of what may happen. "N-No! Miss Chevalier, I implore you to stop! Everyone, th-they are. . . !" she started, faltering in her words before realizing what it was she was doing, how it was she was acting all of a sudden. On my own.

A hand flew to her chest, clenched into a tight fist, her face going pale with dread as she came to understand that she was thinking on her own, these actions were hers, and whatever happened was her doing now. Cináed understood it, she was responsible for what would occur now. The once-Pierrot turned and looked back at the man who held Louis hostage, her eyes desperate. A person's life . . . was in her uncapable hands now. Louis' life was on her shoulders, whatever she said, did, it was her own responsibility now. Even if the notion of such things frightened her, she could not stop halfway through this, she had to try, no, she had to make sure no one died. "Miss Chevalier, this man whom holds my fiancé hostage, I-I believe he may have bewitched the nobles and other Chevalier in the foyer."

Though Louis had brought harm onto Cináed, with there now being the beginnings of a bruise forming around her waist, she believed his death would not be for the better interests of anyone, not even herself. "Please," she began, her lack of powerful certain resolve obvious as she spoke to the captor, "Please do not cause anyone to die tonight. . . ."

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Crowly stands there in pity for the girl in front of him. He stares at the red-headed wife-to-be, the so-called harlot and whore. He shakes his head tightening his grip on Louis's shoulder. He listened to her speak, and stand up for the spoiled and selfish boy. As Crowly looked at her from head to toe, there was no quality of a whore or harlot, she bore the resemblance of a scared child, which caused Crowly to falter even more. Of all times to go senile, he thought sarcastically to himself, Out of all the centuries, it had to be now. He felt a burning sensation in his throat, reminded of the price that his bloodline gave him. He's spent a lot of power tonight, if he had to go with a confrontation-. "Arrest that man! The one beside the Duke's son!" He groaned inwardly, before turning slightly, watching a girl with a trident dashing towards them, holding her injured arm. His other hand starts to form into a position where it would be ready to snap, ready to summon his scythe and to get the bloody hell out of there if needed. Then, another surprise of the night. Louis's fiancé called of the attack, her voice sounding weak. "N-No! Miss Chevalier, I implore you to stop! Everyone, th-they are. . . !" Crowly looks at the two and their exchange, his eyes softening. Louis looked at disbelief, staying silent, trying not to scream out from the pressure on his shoulder. Crowly noticed as Louis tried to whisper, "You...bitch...get me out of here...before he kills me..." Crowly stares at Louis with pure anger, immediately bringing the desired effect of him shutting his mouth. He looks up once again, the trident wielding Chevalier gone, only the scared Red-Head. Crowly begins to speak, his voice calming, as he stares at Cináed, his eyes normal, not trying to hypnotize her, or manipulate her.

"Miss. I don't like killing. Honestly, I don't. But it is through my existence as a Dhampyr, that I am forced to kill. I hunt in order to live as peaceful as possible. I received a mission, a request from a client, to assassinate the boy." He says as he shakes Louis, as if to gesture to him. "I do this, not for the fun, yet partially for the money and the sustenance, but I also do this to find a way to live in peace for a long, long time...it's the path I take to kill the least amount of people. I was offered a hefty sum of money and stored blood, it would keep me from killing for years. I don't drink much blood anyways, less than half that the usual vampire consumes, which means that this blood can last me for a long, long time." Crowly's voice starts to become more serious, even scornful. "This boy isn't going to give you much, he's going to use you, treat you like garbage, like the harlot people make you out to be. Why must you do this...? You can live without living in pain. There are alternatives, young one. You deserve much better than this. I've seen his kind before. Greedy, selfish, nothing more than garbage down the road. Of all things, someone like you deserves a life that's more open and lovely. A life that you love, not a life that everyone else does." Crowly's grip loostens slightly as he stares at Cináed, his eyes showing pity.

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Relief flooded Cináed’s heart as the Chevalier heeded her words and ceased her charge. The girl’s green eyes turned to look upon the trident-wielding girl, seeing her nod in response to the order, apologizing when she realized that the man held no weapon, only magic, though she brought a smile onto her face, before raising the trident up into the air and doing something of which Cináed wasn’t completely certain. Abruptly, she turned and left once more, going to the Goddess knew where. For the fact that the attack had been halted, she was glad. Even if she were not a woman of the upmost intelligence, Cináed was someone who believed that a frontal assault as the Chevalier had been attempting would have only ended in the death of someone, Louis, the Chevalier herself, or the captor. No one needed to die tonight, the weight of a person’s life was a heavy one to bear.

As a small sigh escaped the redhead’s trembling lips, her whole form quivering from the anxiety and the panic she felt from the situation at hand, having to make her own decisions in order to try to save Louis’ life, attempting to talk down an assassin with her inexperienced logic and weak words. All of this was either going to break her or it was going to turn out to be a miracle, should she have succeeded.

With her heart fluttering like a mad butterfly in her chest, the once-Pierrot clasped both of her hands to her chest and turned back on her heel to face the man who held her fiancé hostage now. Cináed’s emerald eyes glanced over the railings of the upper floor of the foyer, to the crowd below, some of whom were clutching onto their craniums, chattering to one another, as if trying to make sense of what was going on and what had happened to them. The silent music their merriment had been to was now gone, and they were regaining themselves it seemed. Had the Chevalier’s movement with her trident been a motion to lift the charm?

In the crowd, Cináed noted a familiar face among the lot of them, though she only saw him for a fleeting second, she knew him as the sole alchemist of Cellé, someone who was well in with Duke Auttenberg. . . . .was there any chance he might intervene in all this?

Soon enough however, the girl brought her attention back to the light-haired man before her, the one who held Louis captive now. Though Cináed’s eyes quickly looked over his features, she noted that there wasn’t so much pain in those eyes of his as there was anger and impatience. Even knowing what was to come if he was freed, and she was left to marry him in the morn, Cináed still felt that his death was not something that would be of a benefit. As the bewitcher began to speak, the redhead drew her gaze to him, her uncertainty evident upon her young face. She listened to him speak, and she heard what he was, a dhampir, a Vampire-Halfling, and she received her certain answer, about why he was here. A hired assassin.

He was doing this to cause the least amount of death he said, to survive . . . but the final part of his response to her sounded as if it were one of pity. Saying she deserved better than what Louis could give her. I am not looking for him to gift me with anything, simply I seek to live. . . . she thought to herself, her gaze remaining transfixed upon the Dhampir. He has been hired to end Louis’ life in exchange for the means for his own survival, money and the blood which all of his kind requires to continue on. . . . With that in mind, Cináed found herself swallowing back the mounting desire to simply surrender to this, and to let others resign to their own choices. Decisions were not something she wanted to be left with, they were things she could do without in her life.

Why it seemed the Dhampir held pity for her, she didn’t know or understand, but she didn’t desire such a notion. What people thought of her did not matter, what would happen to her, it did not matter. What did was ensuring the survival of all tonight. Hearing the chatter from the crowd below slowly, yet steadily grow louder, Cináed knew that the hex cast upon the lot of them was truly coming to its end, meaning the time in which to ‘negotiate’ was shortening as Chevalier would come to try to apprehend the Dhampir for threatening the life of Louis Auttenberg. Such an attempt might only cause him to slay Louis then and there.

This task was given to him for the things needed to subsist. Louis’ life is ended by his hand, and he receives those items, does he think this is the path of lesser evil? Cináed questioned, trying to come to a conclusion on what it is she needed to do in order to resolve this, even with her incapable skills. The marriage between him and myself is what would cause the problem. . . . Even if she didn’t understand that, why it was her and Louis’ marriage would be an issue to anyone, that whole matter was the central core to all of this. Was it the union of the Auttenberg and de Amore families that would be difficult for the Dhampir’s employer?

With that in mind, something in the once-Pierrot’s mind clicked, and a rather doubtful solution to this problem formed. What if . . . I were removed from this? she asked herself, bringing her eyes back up to look the Dhampir in the eyes. Still quivering from the apprehension, she opened her lips, shakily breathing out as she moved to speak. ‘Th-The union between my own family and the Auttenberg line of aristocracy, this seems to be the matter which is problematical for your employer, Dhampir.” Cináed’s voice was hesitant, her face reflected the wavering in her resolve, and the fear she would fail. “I-Instead of taking the life of Louis Auttenberg. . . .” she began, shutting her eyes and dropping down to her knees, bowing her head forward and hiding her face from view, “I propose an exchange of sorts. To spare my fiancé, I would offer to you, myself, the life of Cináed de Amore for the survival of Louis Auttenberg.”

“My own life, it is not of importance. Sentiments and things such as love, an open existence is not something I understand, matters that I have never experienced, or know of. What would happen to me now would not matter, Dhampir. If you would end my life now, or do what you will with me, take me, hold me for ransom, I do not care. So, I beg you, take me in exchange for my fiancé.”

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Character Portrait: Aer Shevna-Ray Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Ulysses Adler Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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As Ulysses stared out the door, he couldn't help but shiver a tad. No matter how many times he scuffled with Black Horizon, they always seemed to creep him out every time. It didn't help that they were slowly stalking their way towards them. Ulysses tapped his fingers along the door frame, thinking. It was possible that they could fight them, but the risk was too high to even think about it. He could have Aer jump on his back and he could climb down the tower, but the extra weight Aer adds might unbalance them and they would fall to their deaths. Their only option was to run like hell in the opposite direction and hope that they can get out that way. Aer Had just snapped out of her illusion, and she didn't seem all too happy about letting the treasure go. Now she agreed to an actual alliance that could mean the difference between them living and getting tortured into madness. She asked what he was going to do, and thankfully enough, he had a plan. "Well, first off-"

That was when Guard Girl came out of the blue and assaulted the Black Horizon goons head on. Ulysses gave her props for being bold, but that was probably the stupidest thing she could have done. She fought well, wounded a couple of them, but the gunman of the group let off a shot into her back. She was now on the ground, slowly bleeding out. The gunman came up and was about to place a shot in between her eyes. Ulysses only had seconds to act, and he chose the noble, but idiotic decision. He busted his way through the door and landed a clean gun smack to one of the grunt's jaws. The gunman looked up in surprise and raised his weapon. Ulysses smacked the gun out of his hand and shot him in the leg. The one with the sword came up, ready to strike. Ulysses landed two hard blows to the man's knees, making him topple over. While they were busy tending to their wounds, Ulysses went over to Guard Girl and propped her onto his back. "I hope we can put that little incident of ours behind us." He got a foothold and started sprinting away for the Black Horizon mercs. As he ran passed the door, he screamed to Aer "You might want to start running with me!" He bolted his way toward the other end of the hall.

When he reached a wide open area, the change in light took him sometime to adjust. The room was as luxurious as ever, everything seeming to glow. He couldn't admire the scenery, Guard Girl was gonna die if he didn't tend to her wounds. He laid her against a wall and took a look at her back. Surprisingly, the wound wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Still, better to be safe than sorry. He ripped a piece of his shirt off and tied it around the wound. He didn't know if she was conscious or not, but he hopped she didn't mind this. He looked around to find some kind of help. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something red just a ways away. He turned to find a red headed girl, a silver haired man, and a fancy looking royalty type. He didn't know who they were, but he didn't have time to ponder. "Hey! I need some help! She's injured and there are some mercenaries chasing after us!" That was probably very stupid, but survival made you do stupid things if it meant your life would be extended.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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From the darkness of the night around the chaos a silent being watched unmoved at the going ons. Not out of mere indifference but out of confusion. The events unfolding beneath the construct were as alien to him as the most distant world. The fallacy of the wedding, the sadistic mistreatment of the would be bride by the would be groom. The theft in progress and the attempt to single handeldy prevent it. The kidnapping and the hostage situation in progress. None of it made sense. The purpose of it all seemed so mindless and without reason. Was this unordered chaos normal among organics? Marriage was to be a joyous occasion, a celebration of a union between two individuals as well as a legal bond. Yet joy seemed the furthest thing from present at this ceremony. Fitting perhaps that it all went awry as the halfbreed arrived only after exerting a measure of mind control on the crowd below. Magic was not something Paragon could truly understand. It wasn't something solid that could be measured or proved. It merely existed yet was at odds with all measure of reason and science. Whatever was at work below the bride to be Cináed Rubina de Amore and the Duke's son Louis Auttenberg now found themselves in the deadly hands of a Dhampir. With feet not making the slightest sound the cyborg moved through the darkness as the shadow of death would follow a dying man. The optical implants over his eyes activated and the screens slid out and suddenly the world of darkness grew bright green as the night vision showed the cyborg the figures below. The Dhampir spoke in warning and pity to Cináed while the girls apprehension seemed to consume her. With practiced ease Paragon changed the visual mode and now the world was bathed in red as he observed the head read outs of the two figures. The girl glew bright yellow and red as her warm body lit up in the dim surroundings while the Dhampir's body was a cool blue. Paragon retraced his optic lenses and focused on the two in the darkness as the girl finally spoke up.

“I propose an exchange of sorts. To spare my fiancé, I would offer to you, myself, the life of Cináed de Amore for the survival of Louis Auttenberg.”

“My own life, it is not of importance. Sentiments and things such as love, an open existence is not something I understand, matters that I have never experienced, or know of. What would happen to me now would not matter, Dhampir. If you would end my life now, or do what you will with me, take me, hold me for ransom, I do not care. So, I beg you, take me in exchange for my fiancé.”

Her words confounded the cyborg. To give your life for someone else is counter productive to self sustainability but is normally rationalized through the human desire to protect loved ones. Yet in this instance there was no loved ones to be sacrificed for. There was a cruel man who'd already proven his malicious nature yet still the woman was willing to give her life for him. Why would she do this? What is the purpose of it? How can she desire death in order to protect one who has harmed her so? In the pursuit of his own reason for being Paragon had deemed it necessary to discover the meaning of life itself. He needed to understand all aspects of life to better find his own way in the world yet this oddity went against what little he had already learned. He needed to find out more from the woman. He needed to ask her the countless questions he was amassing but she would soon be dead if things continued as they were. The high, almost cathedral walls of the mansion had the cyborg standing stories above the trio. He rose and took a step into the still air. His heavy body plummeting out of the air and landed hard in a three point stance. The impact sent cracks running along the marble floor. Paragon slowly rose his head and locked eyes with de Amore. His calculating gaze seemed to study her very being. He rose and took a step toward the wicked Duke, the reluctant Duchess, and the supernatural assassin. The cyborg spoke, more to himself than those around him. His words haunting in the darkness.

"Direct intervention is necessary..."

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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#, as written by Zentose
Max watched as the soon to be duchess fell, he was prepared to move through the crowd and assist her, but one of the Chevalier beat him to it. He continued to wait in the crowd as the multitude of people moved away from watching the Duke's son and his fiancé, and to an empty piano, they all cheered it as if someone was playing, yet it was empty. A pretty skilled illusionist... thought Max, he could have done something to alleviate the illusion, but he didn't really feel like it, what was the worst that could happen?

He then looked up at the railings and saw a silver haired man slap the son of the duke. They should give that guy a fucking medal... Max thought to himself, before noticing a bit of repartee between the son's fiancé and the silver haired man. She seemed distressed, but then that same chevalier beat him to the punch once more and aided her, releasing the illusion set upon the people as well. He looked around as the nobles began to panic, some acting insane, most thinking themselves insane. Max didn't really care about it, they were the nobles, they could get over it...

He looked up at the scene from before, the chevalier had left, and the girl looked straight at him, seeming distressed once again, it was then that Max felt an actual need to assist her. It's not like the rest of her guards could do anything against an illusionist that powerful... Max thought, slowly sauntering up the stairs, he was able to make three logical hypotheses about the situation, the most likely of which was that the duke's son was a hostage and the fiancé had ordered the chevalier away, to protect the bastard.

By the time he was half-way up, someone crashed down into the scene, from just a bit too high up. Max stopped his uncaring walk and quickly moved to the second level, before he had time to come to her rescue, that same chevalier, for the third time, rushed in and beat him to action, she pushed the duke out of the way and placed her weapon to the silver haired man's throat. Then multiple other chevalier moved up the stairs following Max.

Ignoring the oncoming chevalier, Max stepped behind the duke's son's fiancé, he had already figured out everything, aside from the unknown man, who seemed more than a man, more of a thing, that crashed down in front of her, it was an unknown variable, Max looked into its eyes and asked, "What in the hell are you...?" He placed his right hand on the dirk behind his back and touched the stone railing with his left hand, ready to use both to attack the unknown entity.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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Calmly, Crowly started to assess the situation. Something inhuman being crashing to the ground not even hurting himself in the slightest, a skilled chevalier illusionist who can dispel illusions in the blink of an eye, someone new to the fray right next to the said inhuman being. His stomach lurched as he looks about, the world all around him, making him dizzy. His eyes closed, as he calmly puts his hands in his pockets. The screeches and cries of crows can be heard from a distance, as if beckoning to him.

He smiles as he thinks, I suggest you don't interfere, Frejia. You and your fledglings go back into the world you came from. Soon enough, you serve me no more. The crows give off small cries, sounding sorrowful through the night, pleading. Crowly sighs once more, thinking, Forgive me. I've gone soft over the years. Sounds flapping occur, as a few black feathers fall upon the white-haired Dhampir's head, and shoulders, confirming his identity as number 2 on the most wanted by criminals and bounty hunters. He opens his eyes, their Fuchsia hue dazzling, slowly dispelling the simple illusion himself, revealing that he surrounded by men, and woman, with weapons. Crowly coughs, a bit, his throat parched from all the energy he's spent for the night. Slowly he smiles kindly, in a fashion that a kind priest would.

"Well, concerning the situation at hand, if I tried to do the youthful 'Fight to the End' kind of thing, I'd probably end up taking two of your guards but dead!" His tone sounds awfully matter-of-fact, but non-provocative. He sighs, putting his hands up in defeat. "Well, my time has finally come. Of all the years, today is the day I go 'senile'. As for introductions, I assume you all have an inkling about who I am. I might as well confirm it to you all, I'm the second on the list, Number 2, Crow. I presume that this is going to have me be in a dungeon for the next few weeks, then put on public execution... Oh well. If an opportunity presents itself for me to continue my mission or escape, I'll take it. If not, then oh well! I'm amazed, that so many interesting people are gathered in one place in order to stop me. Quite peculiar." Crowly shakes his head, as he puts his hands behind his back, his eyes opening revealing them to be full of pained pity for Cináed. He's not only disappointed that he's finally failed the mission, but he's pitiful for she has to marry such a corrupt Duke's son. "To the future wife of the Duke's son. I apologize, for not being able to help, and for having the intention to hurt others. Sadly, it's the way that I live." The Dhampir puts his head down in defeat, his hands behind his back, his throat slightly irritated.

I've made a speech in front of people who want to kill me, with a smile on my face no less. I'm sure I've finally gone off edge.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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She wound up on her side, as something/one had leapt from high above, landing upon the marbled floorings of Duke Auttenberg’s manor, managing to send spider-webbing cracks throughout it, without having harmed himself. When he locked eyes with her, Cináed simply froze in shock, her own emerald gaze widening as she lost the ability to breathe. From having to intervene in order to try to save Louis life, to having to act upon her own volition, to this. . . . A man who seemed beyond limits of mortality just appearing from nowhere. The fact that more things were unfolding before her, matters to which were mysteries to her, it send a bolt through her heart, one of utter terror that caused her form to begin shaking.

Things weren’t bad enough? Hard enough on her, as it was? She already had no choice but to negotiate with a dhampir assassin, and to offer up her own life in exchange for Louis’. If more unknowns were to enter the picture, it would only complicate things, it would make it harder for her to find a way to intervene in all this, to stop it all, to make sure no one died. Th-This. . . . All of this, too much is happening, I cannot control it, I cannot find a way to. . . . Cináed began thinking, her neck lolling forward as her eyes were gaze down to the ground wide and beginning to brim with tears. She was overwhelmed, so overwhelmed. Everything was beginning to spiral, and spin out of her grasp again; her incapable hands were not able to keep control.

The matter of which side anyone was on, whether they were aid to her, or to assist the assassin, that was something that slipped away from the panicked mind of the redheaded once-Pierrot. Her breathing speed began to increase, her heart speeding up in her chest as she began to quiver. Things around her began to feel as if they were happening in a blur.

It overtook her with ringing ears and a throbbing skull, vision blurring as confusion and more uncertainty set in upon her. Unknown, there is too much that is unknown. Uncertainty, everything is uncertain, I do not know what to do, Through her muddled senses, Cináed became unable to even understand what was happening around her, that things were beginning to come to a close with the release of Louis and the Dhampir being held at the point of the Chevalier’s trident. In truth, she felt herself beginning to feel queasy, the anxiety overtaking her was truly debilitating. The once-Pierrot didn’t understand how she was suppose to handle all this, what was she suppose to do? She had sworn to herself no one would die, even in her inexperienced hands; she refused to let a death become a weight on her shoulders.

And with her labored breathing, the redhead began to realize something, something . . . unpleasant. Her body was beginning to feel rather hot, as if she’d been made to swallow burning coals. Was she beginning to take to a fever from all this, from the stress and strain of undergoing this ordeal? She wasn’t sure. With harsh breaths still going into her lungs and coming from, Cináed forced herself to look up, her flesh beginning to shine a bit from perspiration caused by the unnatural heat she felt coming from her body. The girl’s eyes held a distant glint to them, as if she were detached from everything around her now, truly, it was odd.

Louis was free, and off cowering away from his captor as he was held at sword point for his attempted murder. The strange man who’d leapt from high above, and the alchemist were there too, as were some unfamiliar faces who did not fit into the crowd of nobles with the Auttenberg manor. Any words spoken to her were lost to her ears, all she could hear was a sharp ringing, and all she could feel was a sharp throb going through her body, the blood in her veins painfully flowing through her. Then, there was that heat. It felt as if her body was beginning to burn from the inside out, almost like her bones were beginning to melt away.

Cináed remained silent, a vacant expression her face as her mind went completely blank, and the ringing in her ears stopped, leaving only silence. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, the throbbing, the pain, and the warmth in her bones, before it felt like something was tearing through her. It came from her spine, and shot through every single bone in her small body without warning, a wave of burning. The suddenness of it knocked the redhead back into reality, her senses returned to her in full as she found herself screaming out from the sensation. Holding onto her own middle again, an expression of pain across her features, Cináed began to breathe heavy again, unknowingly screaming with each exhale.

She didn’t understand what was happening to her, the pain, any of it. Her bones had to be melting, the heat coming from her spine was too much for them not to be!!

Tears fell from her shut eyes as it overwhelmed her, and something felt as if it surged forth from the base of her backbone, an intense flare, heat that she couldn’t contain, that her body couldn’t handle. In conjunction with it, the redhead’s heart pounded in protest to it within her chest, as fire attempted to swallow everything around her body.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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The next few moments transpired quickly and served only to get more confounded. Paragon was beginning to discern that humans had an inability to use reason over reaction. When events unfolded around them they merely reacted to them instead of taking the time to think their actions through and discover the most effective and logical plan of action. Paragon's unnatural eyes flicked from Cináed to the Alchemist who had yet to speak his name. With a silent threat the man asked the construct what he was. The cyborg's head slowly cocked to one side as if in curiosity. Before Paragon could respond to the intriguing question the dhampir threw his hands up in surrender and Cináed's body began to quiver in pain. Once again the constructs gaze turned to her and he watched curiously as her body was racked with pain then went still only long enough for her to scream out in agony as flame erupted around her. Several of the guards screamed out in shock and were so distracted and distraught that they'd never managed to put the iron shackles on the would be assassin. One of them ripped their sword from it's scabbard and pointed it at Cináed with eyes full of fear.

"Witch! She's a bloody fucking witch!"

That was all the fuel the fire of Man needed and in seconds all but one of the nearby guards seemed prepared to separate the bride's head from her body. As the fire surged the construct froze. His mind and body unwilling to work as one. His chest began to rise and fall more and more rapidly as his wide eyes stared at the flame. His world became lost in the dancing form of the fire encircling the girl. Pure white hot terror froze the cyborg. Paragon was unable to move, unable to speak. His hands twitched unsure of what action to take. Fight or flight was an organic response to fear and danger yet he was anything but. His organic and inorganic minds were battling it out for supremacy. Reason and logic assured him that the fire would do no lasting damage to him if he'd managed to burn himself. Yet terror whispered seeds of doubt into the ears of the thing that was once a man.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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Crowly's eyes widened as he spotted a torrent of flames behind the inhuman cyborg in front of him. Everyone in the area seemed to go catatonic, staring at the pillar of fire that was once an innocent girl and the fiancé of the son of a Duke. He smiles slightly in the midst of the chaos, as he hears the screech of four angry sounding crows, one the size of a raptor, the other three no bigger than the size of a hawk. He thinks to himself, planning his escape plan already, especially with a god sent opportunity such as this one, but a stray thought caused him to groan inwardly. What about the girl...? He could just kill the duke, but he didn't want the red-head to die... but she was dead anyways, she was being cloaked by a plume of fire...was there someone here that got to this mission first...?

No, it was crystal clear to him now, he's seen this before, only once. He's gone on a mission with a target such as this one, a Salamander-Halfling. He remembered the taste of the rich, yet spicy blood, and how, when in combat, he loved to use fire. He sighs, he was going to regret this later, but this was the best way if he wanted to get his pay and have the least amount of bloodshed. During the chaos, all of the guards were distracted, ready to cut down this 'Bloody fucking witch'. Crowly, with of a look of disgust on what he was about to do, grabs one of the arms the distracted guards, using his enhanced vampiric strength to remove the small armor covering his arms, biting down hard with his white fangs, giving one good inhale, the guard's arm paling itself to a dry white. Crowly's hair points up, his lips darken, his fuchsia eyes glowing as the blood fills his veins, giving him enough sustenance and power to fuel his half-blood powers.

He throws the screaming guard behind him, crashing straight into the illusionist as he speedily dashes past the cyborg, grabbing the bride-to-be. He winces as the flame burns his pure cold skin, but it didn't matter he can regenerate and heal from burns efficiently with the blood he's sucked, albeit slower than his pureblood counterparts .Burns were the least of his worry, he had to make use of his time. He moves, just a red and white blur, holding the bride, jumping off the balcony of the second floor crashing into the piano downstairs, wincing as he pauses, groaning from the fall, the burning girl scorching his skin. He runs out, four crows trailing alongside him, heading for the doors of the castle. There was no time to lose.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Aer Shevna-Ray Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Ulysses Adler Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon
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The scene before Ulysses was utter chaos. Crow, the infamous Number 2, had the bride as a hostage, a strange figure busted through the ceiling, a man in a long black coat came in with a dirk at the ready, and Guard Girl and her buddies had the whole area surrounded. Aer was nowhere to be seen, though she was probably lucky not to be in the middle of all this. The air was extremely tense, everyone in an aggressive stance, ready to strike before the others. Things were going to get bad very quickly, and Ulysses knew that he had to get out of there. With all the commotion going on, slipping out of there would be easy, and he was just about to hop out of a nearby window, but something brighter than anything he's seen before caught his eye.

The red-head had been quiet through most of the ordeal, speaking only to Crow to save that little bastard of a child from death. She had seemed to be in a state of pain, and now she seemed to be in agony. Seconds later, she had burst into flames. Ulysses knew he should have jumped out of that window while he could, but the spectacle was too dazzling to move. Everyone seemed to be staring at the blaze as it soon started to catch onto the rug she was on. The guards were horrified, calling her a witch and readying their weapons to impale her. Just before they could, Crow had ripped the armor off of one of them and bit deep into his arm. The man screamed in pain as Crow sucked away. The next thing Ulysses knew, the guard was thrown across the room, and Crow had snatched the the flame girl and carried her off toward the entrance. It was all too quick, and Ulysses shook his head, climbing through the window.

He didn't expect a hand to grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the wall. The wind was knocked out of him and his vision blurred. When he regained the ability to see, he wished he could lose it again. He had a pitch black helmet staring right at him, and a blade pointed at his stomach. Ulysses started to have a hard time breathing, his hands sweating. It was one of the Black Horizon guys from the hall, judging by the wounds he had. The wounds, however, were gone, all healed up. He pondered how that could be, before the guy smacked him against the wall again. "After all this time, we finally got you." There was something in his voice, some sinister edge to it. While he was noticing the different voice, he seemed to be drawn toward the guy's hand. There were things sticking out of his arm, black tendrils with dark purple spots on them. They moved with a mind of their own, some of them going for Ulysses' neck. The man snickered as he pulled up his other arm and examined it. "Strange, right? Things have changed since you scuffled with us last. We've been doing some testing with supernatural entities, and made a breakthrough in soldier advancement." He put his arm down and looked toward the hallway. His buddies started to file out, their wounds fixed and the same tendrils escaping the breaks in their armor. He turned his helmet and stared at Ulysses. The man's eyes glowed the same purple as the tendrils did. "Fortunately enough, there are other high value targets here, so you won't be lonely while we haul you all in." From a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a small crystal. He proceeded to throw it out the window. In midair, the crystal burst in a shower of sparks. After that, things would only get worse.

The front door exploded in a shower of wood and stone. From the dust, a towering giant came out. A golem, an artificial being of rock, stood at the ready. Black Horizon troops filed in behind the construct, each as menacing as Ulysses friend. Soon the whole front of the mansion was blocked off by a sea of black. Ulysses was speechless. If it was chaotic before, it's all out anarchy now.

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Maximilian Van Eyck Character Portrait: Flandre Mistus Character Portrait: Paragon Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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#, as written by Zentose
Max continued to glare, unblinking at the thing that stood before him and the girl, but before it responded to his query, flames burst out from the girl in front of him, he was less than a foot away from her back when the flames exploded, giving him the narrowest amount of time to act. As the flames approached, Max back flipped out of the way of the ever-approaching fire, almost crashing into one of the chevalier behind him. God, I wish I had stayed home today... Max thought to himself. He was ready to retrieve the girl once the fire had subsided, but the white-haired man grabbed her, through the flame and jumped off the railing to the first floor. Max reacted in an instant and followed him to the ground floor.

He landed on the cold stone and immediately caused a part of the floor in front of the white-haired man, who had now become much more menacing, to raise and become a makeshift wall, blocking his path. Max yelled at him, "Where the hell do you think you're going!?"

It was then that things went from bad to worse, multiple men charged into the room, with a golem, all menacing and consumed in darkness. Damnit I really wish I had stayed home today... Max thought to himself. He looked at the white-haired man and realized that he couldn't spend the time to stop him, it was either save the one girl or protect the dozens of citizens in the room, it was the only logical choice. He took a few steps towards the men and clapped a little, "My that is quite the beast you got yourselves there! Too bad it's made of stone though..."

Max rushed towards the golem, who was currently at the front lines. He made a few stepping stones to get a bit higher as he ran towards the colossal figure, it smashed one of its enormous fists at the ground Max was standing on, but he jumped out of the way. Nigh-instantaneously, Max grabbed it's fist, and it stopped moving, Max now had complete control over the golem. Max climbed up to the beast's shoulder and sat down, remaining in contact with its stone skin the entire time. Max smirked and said, "Now let's see how they like their little monster..."

Max immediately started making the golem attack the men around it, smashing the ground and killing many people. After a few moments, Max heard an explosion from the golem's leg and it came crashing down. One of the soldiers put a small powder keg by the beasts leg and lit it. As the enormous beast crashed on the ground, it crushed even more of the men. Max was able to jump away at the last second, but it still drained him of a bit of energy, controlling an entire golem is difficult. Max moved away from the fray as the chevalier pushed the enemy farther and farther back. They were definitely outnumbered, but one of the chevalier had a dark presences about her, charging in at lightning fast speeds with immense cruelty and strength, when she collapsed Max realized that she would be a powerful asset if she were returned to even a minor amount of strength.

Max rushed in to where the woman had fallen, he lifted a large amount of rock to act as a shield covering them. He placed his hands on her chest and said, "And I haven't even bought you a drink yet!" He channeled his energy into her body, healing superficial wounds and giving her about a quarter of her full strength, as well as increasing her adrenaline and dopamine levels. He grinned a little and said, "Sorry, healing isn't my forte, but this should get you back on your feet..."

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Character Portrait: Cináed Rubina de Amore Character Portrait: Crowly Oliviér
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Everything was little more than a complete blur to her; all of it was just a montage of things happening around her while it felt as if she were utterly burning alive. Even with the expulsion of the flames from her very being, it wasn’t enough to sate the desires of the fire now burning within her very bones. No, that simple release was just the beginning of things yet to come, it was just a prelude. But that, that was not something she knew or understood, all Cináed knew for certain was that she was still in agony, her whole self ached and throbbed from the fire within. She didn’t want to move, or to be moved, she didn’t want to be touched, nor did she even possess the desire to force air into her lungs. Every inhale and exhale only made the sensation of burning that much more intense—oxygen fed the flames. . . .

Her skull throbbing, her body feeling as if it were burning from the inside out, and with her ears ringing, the once-Pierrot did not at all move after the fire that came from her flesh attempted to consume everything that was around her. No, she forced her form to remain still, did not even allow her muscles the slightest twitch, for the fear that the movement would call upon the nameless heat again, and thrust her whole self into another bout of pure distress. Yes, yes she still ached, her body still felt as if embers were smoldering within every inch of her, but now, now, it was not nearly as unbearable as it had been before.

She firmly believed that if she made herself not move, that it would prevent more pain from coming upon her.

And, it was due to the focus she had on maintaining herself as she was, focusing on not even drawing breath, that kept the redhead from realizing the happenings around her. The ringing ears, the loss of her hearing due to the pain in her core, she did not hear when she was accused of witchery, nor was she aware that a sword had loomed so closely to her head and exposed neck. Everything fled from her mind. The situation that had been unfolding beforehand, the fact that she had offered her very life for that of her fiancé’s—all of it was wiped away.

With her pallor flesh having turned a tender red, the girl almost seeming to take on the appearance of one burnt by the sun, Cináed began to think the worst of it was over, that the tides of misery had passed her, set in and were now gone. . . . With the hammering of her heart still resounding within her skull, and that incessant ringing still plaguing her ears, the once-Pierrot soon found herself to be very wrong. All that had transpired beforehand, Louis being held captive, the exchange with the Dhampir kidnapper, the fact she’d said she would give herself to him, no, she would soon understand the truth, that all of which had already happened was a mere prologue.

There was still a deep sense of panic in her heart, the fact that she was so frightened of everything due to not knowing how it was she was suppose to take it on. None of these happenings were suppose to transpire, nothing like this was meant to take place, no. . . . It was suppose to be simple, she’d been given instructions by Violetta, and she was to act according to them, be a marionette of sorts, and follow the night through without incident. But incident had occurred, things had taken a turn for the unimaginable, in the end, it had resorted to her bargaining for the life of her fiancé of all things. A life was left in her hands, on her weak shoulders. A heavy weight.

Without understanding it was still not yet over, and thinking the pain within her had come to its worst possible point, it was only when Cináed was forcibly hoisted from where she knelt upon the scorched floor that it all came back. Anxiety leapt into her heart, and she breathed inward, a gasp of shock and fear. The sensation of hellfire consuming her body from her bones out returned with a vengeance, and, she couldn’t hold back a scream. Again, her skin, it grew hot from the unnatural heat, so hot, that it seemed as if the girl herself should have been alight, that she ought to have been engulfed in flames herself, yet she was not. Contact with her flesh would be enough to leave one wincing, for a normal person to wrench back from her in pain, finding they had been burnt. Yet, whomever it was that had taken hold of her, their grasp upon her remained firm and unyielding, even as they moved about. . . .

The once-Pierrot did not know who it was who’d forced her from her position on the floor, to make her move and summon back all the pain from before, but she knew enough to realize and understand that she was still in their arms. Movements were a blur, the feeling of air against her skin only made it all worse, the sensation of burning alive was not eased by the cool night air in the least. . . . Everything was just a mess, a confusing jumble that she couldn’t make sense of, her brain could barely form a thought beyond the simple gathering of, P-Pain. . . .

The whole of this occurrence, she’d kept her emerald eyes shut, clenched, due to the agony she felt, trying to keep herself from crying. Tears were the last thing she wanted now. Who had taken her, she didn’t know, friend or foe, it didn’t matter. If it was someone from before. . . . One of the strange people, then, so it was.

Her skin red from the heat coming from her very blood and bones, seemingly searing to even the slightest contact, Cináed forced herself to be as still as possible. Even in the arms of a moving person, she wanted to remain as motionless as she could . . . it seemed to lessen the pain. Despite her efforts in being still, there was no denying that the girl may’ve well been on the verge of unconsciousness now. The pain was overwhelming her, and the heat plaguing her body was one too much for a human’s body to bear for long without consequences to follow. . . . Eyes still kept shut, Cináed was now breathing in and out rather harshly, and quickly. Without consciously meaning to do so, the girl’s gloved hand sought out something to grasp onto, and succeeded in doing so with the shirt of the person who’d now had her in their clutches, and was on the move with her. Tightly, she held onto it tightly, her thin hand clenched together so tightly, it almost shook.

And, still feeling as if she were burning alive, Cináed managed to speak but a few simple words in a meek, and strained voice, “I-It hurts, burning, I am burning, p-please . . . h-help. . . .”