Everlasting Muse

Everlasting Muse

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{Private} 1x1 RP between mjolnir and mombie that mostly consists of small moments between characters for growth and development.

703 readers have visited Everlasting Muse since mombie created it.
mjolnir are listed as curators, giving them final say over any conflict & the ability to clean up mistakes.

Introduction

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► ► ► E v e r l a s t i n gXM u s e ◄ ◄ ◄

This is just a small space for mjolnir and mombie to further explore our character ships, plots, or any other fun ideas that may come to us! Smaller and more private moments are very conducive to character growth and development but do not always fit fluidly into the roleplay we are part of. Thus, a separate place to dig into those things and add an extra layer to the characters we write together!

Obviously, don't steal our characters. We love them, and I know that I, mombie, would personally shed tears. You don't want to make a gal cry! Otherwise, take a look if you so choose, but be wary that they are just snippets from a larger picture elsewhere. That includes no theft of graphics or my really cool alliteration. You know, just don't steal. Stealing is not cool, mmkay? Otherwise, enjoy the drama.

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The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 1 authors

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#, as written by mombie
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v a t z j a x l a v e r e

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t h e x d e m o n
#998487 || Outfit || Location

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Long before there was friendship, romance, love - there were two beings, one celestial and the other demonic, trying to find their way through this place called Earth. They both desired the same things - freedom from their fatherly chains, exploration, the need for more. They both knew there was more to life than the ones they had been confined to since their creation. They did all of the things that they desired, enjoyed the fruits of earth, reveled in the freedoms of Humanity, soaked in their knowledge, and whatever else they chose to do.

Bring it back to the 1980's, and that is where the story begins. Shoulderpads and questionable attire, big hair, etc. Even the Demoness was not immune to the fashion statements of the decade, however awful they were. Centuries on earth meant that Vatzja had racked up quite a reputation within both the circle of her own peers and, of course, her favorite divine beings yet - Angels. Hunters, too. Who could forget about those? Oh, and Men of the Church, or whatever they call themselves these days. They adored her - always finding a way to muddle around in her life. The sad part is that she had truly stopped her deviancies - killing, spreading disease, living up to her name. So much so that Satan was getting a little bit upset that she wasn't fulfilling her duties as his thrall.

But did she care? No. Not one bit. She owned several beautiful homes in different countries, established some of the most architecturally wondrous libraries in those same places, and lived a quiet life. The Hellish woman was soaking in books, trying to be low on the radar of her favorite Divine beings, and attempting to figure out how to be free of Lucifer forever. Her quest for true freedom is why she travels so much, reads endlessly, and has been named Hells least productive Demon of the century.

This brought Vatzja to this point right here - going through the drawers and cabinets of a house of some of America's most renowned supernatural hunters. Her razor-sharp claws, black and long, left desperate marks in the wood as she hastily pulled things open.

"Looking for this?" a masculine voice called out from behind her, and the Demon stood straight with her fingers grasping the edge of the desk she had been going through. "We thought you might come here."

She turned around slowly. Hell, she didn't want to kill anyone. It's been a long time since she's had to do anything to defend herself, and she wasn't quite sure what alerted the hunters. Why are they still bothering her? Hadn't she been out of sight and out of mind enough to appease their frail human insecurities? The hunter duo is made up of Mark and James, and they come from a legacy of hunters. Best friends. Practically like brothers. Mark was the all brawn and no brains of the two, and James was the brawn and brains. They were both extremely cute, too, which was a shame.

"I just want the book, boys. There's no need to fight. I haven't done anything to anyone for at least a decade. Just give me the book and I'll leave. You'll never see me again." As she attempted a feat of diplomacy to two zealous hunters, it apparently elicited some laughter from the pair of men.

Mark nudged James, "Hey, she said that she's trying to change to be a better Demon! We should let her go. Don't you think?" They carried this conversational, a sarcastic one, among themselves with James chiming in, "You know, now that I think about it - you're right. Everyone deserves a second chance. She's only murdered hundreds of thousands of humans in her lifespan." More laughter. They were two very arrogant assholes who got lucky a few times. The pair were currently investigating a rise in Demonic activity in their area for the last week. It just so happens to be the same week in which Vatzja decided to be here. Hapless luck.

"Murder is a bit of a harsh word," she stated as her eyes ventured about her surroundings. Vatzja looked for divine traps, of which were very popular for holding a Demon at bay. They were trying to trick her, but she didn't know how. "Did you guys think this through? Are you sure you have the right demon that is causing your problems? Because, I mean, I can find that demon for you. It's not me."

"You're the only demon in town," James pointed out.

"That's impossible. I can't be the only one in town because I just got here, and I haven't done anything at all." She stepped forward just a little bit, and the two stood still in their places. Her eyes narrowed slightly, "You've trapped me in this room," she concluded. Still, she pressed forward, inching closer until she could feel something invisible radiating divinely between them.

"You didn't think we would come unprepared, did you?"

"I'm afraid you've made a mistake, however," she began as one heel crossed the threshold. "I'm not some low-level demon, dears. I am much, much worse than that. I am the demoness of pestilence and decay; of sickness, of plague. I am Ofilira, the Withering Lady." The men could not believe their eyes as the woman's svelte fingers reached up and grabbed the book from Mark's frozen hand.

James attempted to do something at least, as he muttered Latin nonsense into her ears. It tickled her, really. It was too late, however, as the demon's nature was beginning to reel its ugly head. She could hear the whispering of Lucifer, his beguiling words tempting her to send the hunter souls to him. They were a pest anyway. "I tried to tell you to let me be, but you're arrogant and unreasonable. But now I can't stop it," she just about growled. She kind of just swatted James away while advancing into Mark's personal space until he was against the wall.

With the book in one hand and Mark's back against the wall, she grabbed his jawline with her other fingers and pulled his head in close to hers. They both locked eyes. There were two beings at work within Vatzja, her monster and her "human" side. This person had attempted to kill her. To trick her. To send her back home where she didn't want to go.

He was raised just a bit off of the ground where he kicked and his hands clawed for the fingers that held him in place. I can't go home. I can't," and against her better judgment, she pushed her mouth closer to his, which had been forced open by her fingers, and began to suck the lifeforce from his body. His skin was starting to wrinkle and turn pale. It's been a while since she has tasted the human soul, and it was an addiction she had worked hard to fight.

Until now. She couldn't stop herself, even if she truly wanted to.

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