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Snippet #2492306

located in The Wheel of Life, a part of Apotheosis of the Condemned, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Wheel of Life

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ephraim Solomon Character Portrait: Virgil Solomon Character Portrait: Nerys Liacht Character Portrait: Keira Mizuki
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The lazy dripping of his own blood, slow and languid against the scuffing staccato of their footsteps—well, the ones belonging to himself and Nerys; Ephraim was oddly soundless as always—was perhaps the loudest sound in the castle they now traversed. It seemed overall to be rather unoccupied, though perhaps they had simply gone through a large portion of the residents before they’d made it inside. This was hardly Benihime’s elite force—he supposed that this had been a rather routine matter before they’d arrived so unexpectedly. Then again, it wasn’t like she’d believe she had any cause to worry, given the trump card she was holding. There had been a lot of oni even still, and though his wounds were already healing, Virgil was unable to escape unscathed. He could smell traces of his brother’s blood as well, but Ephraim’s injuries were likely to be trivial at best. His own—a long gash that ran half the length of his right arm—was bleeding profusely in the way that shallow ones sometimes did, but he wasn’t concerned over it beyond noting that it was staining the sleeve of his hakama.

He’d suffered much worse, and he probably would again before this was all over. Benihime herself was much stronger than any of her footsoldiers, but it wasn’t even this that concerned him, in the end. There was precious little Ephraim could not be counted on to handle, and she was not in that number. Rather, Virgil was more concerned about what he was going to do, if he found himself under her sway. Or rather, what she would make him do. It had been a long time since he’d been close enough to the starball to heed commands given with its power, and he was not looking forward to the experience. This too, however, was necessary. He needed it back—he could live no longer knowing that invisible strings hung attached to him, slack only until someone decided to pick them up. The knowledge was maddening, and he was surprised he’d been able to tolerate it this long. Perhaps it was only that he’d had plenty of other things to deal with in the meantime.

He was tracking her by scent—hers was one he would never forget, after all. The passages of this castle were serpentine in the strangest ways, such that he began to suspect they were designed to be confounding. Perhaps understandable, considering that the last resident of this castle had been a bakeneko, and they were well-known for being able to give even kitsune a run for it when it came to illusions. Virgil had always liked cats.

They came at last, however, to a large, double-screen door, and he knew that she was behind it. Smell wasn’t the only reason, either—he could feel it in there, calling to him, waiting to be reunited with him. The call was almost unbearable all on its own, never mind that it was in the half-oni’s clutches. The trio came to a stop before the door, and Virgil shot a glance at Ephraim. “You remember our deal, don’t you?” he asked, unusually solemn, his eyes boring into his brother’s. Ephraim nodded.

“I have not forgotten.” Virgil exhaled softly, something like relief passing over his features for just a moment before he raised his hands to the door. Pausing just long enough for the others to prepare themselves for whatever lay beyond, he threw open the rice-paper screens and stepped inside.

The throne room was longer than it was wide, and relatively unoccupied. Benihime sat at the end of it on a dias, a throne constructed of dark wood and silk her location. One leg was crossed over the other, and her hand toyed absently with what looked like a strange, perfectly spherical gem. It had been put on the end of a necklace, outshining all the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds it was set among. Virgil’s eyes narrowed to see his very essence displayed in such a way. At either side of her stood a truly monstrous oni guard, one green and the other blue, their horns obsidian and wicked, curved back over their skulls like those belonging to rams. Those were definitely the best of the best of her kind, doubtless her personal retinue.

She smiled upon their entrance, tilting her head to one side. “Well, well, well
 what have we here?”

Nerys followed the Solomon brothers, her eyes wandering from side to side. The castle was large, winding, and...confusing. She was glad that she was following the two of them, otherwise she would have lost herself within the building. Let alone, she might have gotten herself killed if she were by herself. She tried her best to ignore the wounds her comrades were currently sporting. She could speed up the healing process...with her blood, but that was an uncomfortable gesture to make. If they asked, she wouldn't say no, but she knew they would not ask. Given what they were, their own healing would be enough for now. It had to be enough.

She knew she wasn't as strong as Virgil and Ephraim, but she was strong in her own right. The first wave of oni they had encountered were strong, but Nerys had suspected that they were merely foot soldiers, and that this woman, whoever she was, would have saved the best for last. Why send the best first? They were needed to protect her, or finish off the remnants of an army if one had posed a threat to her. Nerys shifted in her spot, readjusting herself as they approached a door, and Virgil spoke to Ephraim. She kept her gaze forward though, preparing herself as best as she could for what could lie ahead of them.

Once the doors were opened, she stared in light awe of the throne room, noting the small details that lay about it, before her eyes settled in on the three figures. Two of them were large, curved horns, and appeared menacing. She shivered slightly at the sight of them, and stood closely behind the two brothers. The woman seemed to be holding something, like a necklace of sorts, but her eyes fixed upon the sphere that was set in the middle. Was that what they were after? A necklace? Or was it the gem? She wondered, for a second, if that was what a Kitsune's soul was like. She remembered Ephraim telling her about the external souls Kitsune had.

Was that Virgil's soul?

“Benihime,” Virgil said smoothly. “I’d say it was nice to see you again, but I’d be lying. Perhaps it would suffice to say that you look
 well. Conquest suits you.” The three of them advanced together until they were about in the center of the room, causing the oni flanking their warlord to each rest a hand on their swords. Hm
 three to three. They were even in numbers, unless the woman had taken the opportunity to master soul magic, in which case, things got quite a bit more dire. “I do believe, princess, that you have something which belongs to me.” The fox folded his arms into his sleeves, both ears facing forward, his posture indicating that he was quite attuned to her, his every muscle a spring-loaded coil waiting to snap in one direction or another.

Her nonchalance was as perfect as his, save the hungry flicker in her eyes. Power and sex, after all, and a kitsune of this caliber was quite capable of providing her with both. She’d never had ambition beyond her means, and as such, had kept her impressive army at the task of conquering weaker, minor territorial lords, growing her resources and biding her time. But now that he was here, well
 she was about to become a very mighty woman indeed. “A nine-tailed fox, here in my home, perfectly at my mercy, and he expects me to just give it back?” She sounded amused. “How oddly sentimental, for one of your ilk.”

Her hand closed over the gem, but the illumination of it spilled still from between her fingers, golden and beautiful. She reached into it with the soul magic she’d sold her own brother for, feeling the power wash over her like warm saltwater. Were all souls so exquisite, or was it simply this one? She really didn't know, and she’d be hard-pressed to care.

Virgil, on the other hand, went stiff, his musculature locking up, his breath escaping him in a hiss. That was more magic than she was supposed to be capable of, half-succubus or no. “How
?” His jaw tightened, biting off the word as he felt himself go slack, standing only now at her command. Her mind slid against his like something abrasive, sticking to him like a bramble, and she was everywhere—in his senses, in his head, and he was drowning in her. It was not a pleasant sensation. He saw, though he hardly registered, Ephraim step in front of Nerys, summoning a spear from the space between worlds. It was fortunate, then, that he’d extracted that promise from his brother. Good or not, redeemable or not, the Hellhound was a man of his word—he would do what was necessary if it came down to it.

“You’re not the only one that can make a bargain, Akihiko. I’m rather fond of them, myself. Now
 what should I have you do first?”


Keira wasn't entirely sure just how she managed to forget how uncomfortable it was to travel through a Gate and between worlds. It was obviously not meant for humans, and she was at least part human. It felt as though she were being deconstructed and then reassembled wrong. But she went through anyway. She had to.

She fully expected to end up in a place she never recognized; after all, she'd never been to Yokaino before. What she did not count on, was falling flat on her face, or rather, falling on her face and into something else. That was something Nerys did, not her. Though, she wasn't entirely sure that even Nerys would crash head-first into an oni, and very large one at that.

There was a tremendous crash accompanied by a loud grunt as the blue oni toppled over. It was wondering just what had hit it, and Keira was wondering if that was what a bug felt like on a windsheild. She peeled herself from the creature, and then ducked when it made to grab her. That surprised her slightly, that her reflexes were still that good, but then, she was running on an adrenaline high at the moment. Just what the hell had she gotten herself into? She smiled grimly to herself. She could answer her own question, and with one word, too.

Trouble.

Well, Mr. Bailey had said that she was going to need luck...


As experienced a warrior as he was, Kouta had never had a human materialize from nowhere and fall on him before, so perhaps it was to be expected that he was a little slower to react than normal, allowing the slippery creature to evade him. The second time, however, she was not so lucky, and all eyes in the room turned to them as he grabbed her by the arm in a crushing grip, using his other to pin her second arm to her side and lift her from the ground. “Uh
 boss? What should I do with this one?”

Benihime was two seconds from telling him to just dispose of the creature, however odd its sudden appearance. Perhaps it was half-demon, a servant of the bakeneko that they’d somehow missed the first time—it really made no difference to her at all. But that was before she spotted the change in the starball. The gem turned a deep red before her eyes, different in kind from the one produced by his anger. This one was tinged with warm gold and rich purple tones, and she’d never seen it before in the gem. Raising the object to her eyes, she glanced past it to the one it controlled, and noted that though she still held his form under her control, he was fighting it with a fervency she had not expected of him. Ever since she’d made the deal with that god and killed the man’s sister by proxy, he’d not had anything to fight for that viciously. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl worthy of the Hellhound himself, and Benihime smiled.

“A curious development,” she purred. “Disarm her, and then break her strong hand. I think I just figured out what I want my new toy to do first. Kouta, Hiroto, deal with the Hound and the woman. I don’t want them interfering.” The blue oni did as he was told, tearing Keira’s sword from her grip and sticking it into a wooden beam in the ceiling, then snapping the arm it had been sheathed to be in reach of, her dominant one. With a shrug, the oni tossed her casually to the ground, between his mistress and the kitsune, who seemed to be snarling from between clenched teeth, looking very much like he wanted to murder something. He and his green counterpart stepped around that whole mess, however, and towards the two remaining foes. Hiroto cracked his neck to either side, though Kouta settled for drawing a notched sword giving it a few test swings.

“The Hound and his bitch, huh? That’ll be a story to tell,” Kouta said with a yellow-toothed grin. Hiroto, on the other hand, shook his head slightly, drawing a boar-spear rather than a sword.

“Don't underestimate them, Kouta.”


To her credit, Keira did little more than hiss from between clenched teeth. Pain was something she was used to, and it was something she could easily deal with. However, the scene in front of her did little more than confuse her. Her heart lurched at the sight of Vigil, and her eyes slid over to the woman. A succubus? Well, not quite, she could sense something else there as well. She raised an eyebrow. What was this toy she was referring to?

Whatever was going on, she could sense that something was not quite right with Virgil. The energy he gave off was disturbed, warped. Her hand throbbed, but she ignored it. It wouldn't be overly smart, but she couldn't just sit there like a lump, either. Now if only she could figure out what the hell is going on.

"Meetings usually warrant introductions before you begin playing."


Benihime looked down her nose at the woman on the floor. “I don’t waste time introducing myself to the dead. Or the soon-to-be-dead, in this case.” She shrugged indifferently. “Akihiko, be a good little servant and kill her, dear. Slowly.” The woman sat back in her throne, the very picture of undisturbed elegance, but Virgil hissed. The soul magic was powerful—how could she possibly have learned it that well? He’d spent the last three hundred years trying to prepare himself to overcome this, and now
 he was unable to do so. This level of strength should have been impossible for anyone but Inari or a vessel. And she wasn’t one of those; it was easy enough to tell that much.

His tails lashed in his anger, but the rest of him obeyed the command as he was compelled to, and the katana freed itself from the sheath at his waist with a soft ringing. He lowered the blade and advanced forward, flowing with the same smoothness he did everything else, but there was a barely-perceptible hitch in his step, the result of his struggle to stop himself. Gently, almost tenderly, he laid the flat of the blade along Keira’s cheek, the metal of it strangely warm. Virgil shut his eyes, locking his muscles in place as well as he could. He could only stave off the inevitable for so long—even this much was costing him. The only advantage he had was that Benihime had told him to make it slow, but even that would not permit him to do nothing. Drawing breath into his lungs, he forced it out into one word, breathed scarcely loud enough for her to hear.

“Run.”


The name rang through her ears, and for a second, it was all that she could hear. Akihiko. Keira's eyes narrowed as she grit her teeth. Servant? No. Not Virgil, not him. Whatever this was, it was forced. She knew that much. Virgil was too proud to simply do as someone told him, especially not someone like her.

This fact pissed her off more than she cared to admit. Even so, she heard the rest of the command, and didn't move, not even when the blade touched her cheek. It was warm, and still she shivered. His eyes were a deeper gold than she remembered. But when he told her to run, she smiled sadly.

"No." she said softly. "I can't. If you have to kill me, then kill me. Hell, I probably deserve it." The smile morphed into something grim. "I already made the mistake of abandoning you once. You're a bigger fool than I thought if you think I'm going to do it again. Either we leave here together or I die here. There is no other option."


Perhaps, in another moment, another context, he would have felt
 something else. Satisfaction to hear her say it. Perhaps even something like happiness. Right now, though, he only wished she wouldn’t. He swallowed thickly, his hand shaking with the force of his resistance as the blade turned, biting into the soft skin of her cheek. He drew only the thinnest trickle of blood, but the smell hit him like a freight truck. He could understand now, why Ephraim had reacted the way he had to scenting Nerys’s in the graveyard. Because the smell of hers made him want to tear something apart. That something being Benihime.

The demoness in question, however, was not without her own struggles. The kitsune was putting up a spectacular resistance, more than he should have been capable of, even strong as he was. She had his very soul in her hands, and the magic to manipulate it directly. There should be no resistance, not even the faintest trace. What he really was, his power and his essence, were closed in her fist, the golden light overtaking the red and brightening, casting a luminescence like springtime sunlight over the dimness of the throne room. She’d never seen it do this before—and the crone who had taught her this art had never spoken of it. Just what was happening.

Virgil felt the hold she had on him give just enough that his voice was his own again. “Don’t,” he pleaded, his voice rasping as though disused, entirely lacking the smooth refinement it usually held. He was raw, like this, the flicker of pain evident in his eyes, the color of warm candlelight. “Please don’t. Don’t let me hurt you.” He could sense Ephraim and Nerys nearby—though the blue oni was down and out, the green one was much more cautious, and they weren’t going to be able to help him here. Against his own will, the sword moved lower, to rest against one of her collarbones.


Just as he was asking her not to let him hurt her, she wanted to tell him not to look at her like that. It hurt beyond imagining, that look, that pain she saw there. She winced as the blade cut into her cheek, but otherwise didn't move. "I'm not leaving you, Virgil." she whispered softly. As if to prove her own point, she leaned into the blade, blood blossoming against the paleness of her skin. She was shaking like a newborn deer, but her eyes never left his.

Virgil’s eyes fell shut, and for a long moment, half a minute at least, he did not move. In fact, very little happened at all, even as the second oni fell to the teamwork of Nerys and Ephraim. If he’d been paying attention, he would have been able to smell that his brother was bleeding considerably from a wound in the shoulder, and had actually managed to dislocate the thing, but Nerys was unharmed. He would have known why, too—Ephraim would have thrown himself in front of every blow the woman could not somehow avoid, for the sake of making sure she did not bleed again. It was a sentiment with which he could now identify in the most striking, visceral fashion. Unfortunately, he was the one making Keira bleed, and it felt so wrong to him that he was going to be sick.

A kitsune could fight just about any foe without reservation if it became necessary, but they never harmed their—

Something snapped, more threads of Benihime’s control giving way as his resistance became too much for her power, and he immediately cast away the sword, the transformation taking hold of him in a flash of light. The fox pounced, and the startled half-oni lost her grip on the jeweled necklace she held, dropping the object. It bounced away, rolling to a stop near Keira’s knee, but it was hardly his concern at the moment, even considering the fact that he’d come all the way here for it. The woman drew her sword, slashing for his chest, but he flickered and allowed the blade to pass right through, the illusion he’d cast fading even as the real Virgil appeared behind her, knocking her to the ground with mighty forepaws. He pinned her to the ground, and she thrashed mightily beneath his paws.

“You cannot—” Whatever she might have said was cut off with a wet crunch as his jaws sought, and found, her upper left arm. She yelled harshly, driving her knee up into his belly, and he was forced to back off, taking a slash to the face for his trouble. A savage snarl tore from him, and Virgil’s entire body was engulfed in the fire of his own making, the pale blue-white color of it giving him an eerie aspect—almost like a ghost. His tails fanned out, the blood that dripped from his face sizzling as it hit the wooden floor. She charged for him, but passed right through as he lost tangibility. His flames licked at her skin, and she shrieked her fury, ripping stone from the earth and sending the sharpened pieces flying for his head. He deftly avoided, and so she switched tactics, launching the next volley right for Keira.

They thudded into the side of Virgil’s body instead, as he jumped to intercept them the only way possible. No few tore bloody furrows in his abdomen, more blood staining the floor in spatters. It dripped from between his teeth, though whether that was hers or his could not be discerned for certain. Even without unnatural control over him, she was formidable; he had always known this. He also knew that she was going to die—there was simply no other choice.

“I’m so sorry, aniki. I love you.”


“Hmph. Is that all you’ve got, demon? Don’t be an idiot.”


“You’ll still be Vivi, no matter what. And that’s all that will matter.”


"I'm not leaving you, Virgil."


His jaws closed over Benihime’s throat, and Virgil tore, rending her esophagus and vocal apparatus alike. She fell to the ground in a pool of blood, and moved no more. He too was still, only the movement of his chest, his breath expanding and contracting his ribcage, giving away the fact that he was even alive.


She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, so loudly that it drowned everything else out. She was bleeding, she knew this, but her only focus, her only worry, was Virgil. Not even the fact that Ephraim was wounded was enough to draw her attention. The very minute that the fight was over she wanted to move, to go to him, but something stopped her. Despite what she'd said, which was in truth every word, she held reservations about going to him. She had hurt him; she knew that. So she had no idea what he would do because of that. Simply showing up out of the blue after an entire year and saying that you weren't going to leave did little to overcome the fact that you left in the first place.

Something caught her eye then, and she looked down. It seemed to be what had been the centerpiece of the demoness's necklace, a perfectly round sphere that glowed golden. It made her think of Virgil's eyes. Perhaps it had been what she'd been using to control him? Maybe Ephraim would know more about it. She didn't even really think about it, she simply picked it up. Even before she'd touched it, she'd felt...warmer for some reason. Her brows furrowed. What was this?


He felt it, the second she took possession of it, and that snapped Virgil back into reality like the rest of his surroundings had failed to. The fire around him extinguished, and he shifted back into his more humanoid form, though not the human one. He smoothed his face out before he turned, his glance flickering over her for just a moment before it settled on the other two.

“We’re done here; let’s go back.”