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Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii

Nobody really cares if you're miserable, so you might as well be happy.

0 · 847 views · located in Earth 2040

a character in “Mystics: Rise of Disception”, originally authored by Layla, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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[url=SongUrl]Song Title[/url] | Artist || [url=SongUrl]Song Title[/url] | Artist || [url=SongUrl]Song Title[/url] | Artist






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FA E NAME
Laíra'alethya Celessí Æthiriel

H U M A N NAME
Aurélia Bellerose

NICKNAME/S
Laira, Rawr, Ra

AGE
111

COURT
Seelie

NATIONALITY
Syreli || Hidden in the deepest depths of the world's oceans in what mortals know as the Mariana Trench, Syrel is the third largest Fae settlement in the underwater realm and the largest of the Western Pacifc holdings. Neither light nor human eyes have ever penetrated the Seelie territory, as many of its inhabitants are highly sensitive to sunlight.

The majority of Merpeople in Syrel, that is, those possessing the bodies of fish and man, are descended from Kaia'raen Emrys, who was the first Asrai. Nearly all Syreli are of mixed-blood, as unlike some underwater communities, Syrel is home to all types of Water Fae, though Merfolk and Shapeshifters represent the majority. Most have fair skin, dark hair and blue or grey eyes.

SEXUALITY
Mates for life

DIALOGUE COLOUR
Dialogue: #78C7C7
Thoughts: #008080










































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SPECIES
There is often a fragment of truth in mortals' recapitulation of Faerie tales, The Little Mermaid being one of them. Once upon a time, a water nymph by the name of Kaia'raen Emrys fell in love with a mortal, the human slave of an honoured delegate and the greatest Unseelie Elf to have ever lived. The foreseeable tragedy of this tale seemed obvious to all but the enamoured pair, who sought to desert a community opposed to Fae and human relations beyond that of master and slave. Yet it was not this taboo that would doom them but the fragments of truth describing the Merfolk to be so breathtakingly beautiful that a single glimpse of them would render any mortal mad, as they pined all their lives for something that could only be found at the bottom of the ocean.

The Dark Elf succumbed to a comparable insanity, wanting nothing more than Kaia'raen's devotion. When he discovered her heart belonged to his servant, a powerless human who wielded no title or strength, he cursed the woman he claimed to love, and every daughter borne to her. Thus the first Asrai were forged, mermaids christened Ashrays for their deliquescence to water when struck with light. For generations, they were confined to the Aphotic zone, the darkest caverns of the ocean, where no light could penetrate.

The Nix, Neck, Nicor or Nokken are less of a species than an immunity to a condition, being definitive products of innumerable variations of Water Fae exclusive to Syrel. They are descendants of Kaia'Raen, who was originally one of many Naiads, water nymphs with the heads and torsos of human girls and the lower bodies of fish, singing songs to enchant mortals and Fae alike. To allow them control over their transfiguration, the Asrai or Ashrays bred with aquatic Shapeshifters who possessed the forms of beast and man, like Kelpies, Selkies and dragons. However, despite countless millenniums of cross-breeding, most are born Asrai, confined to Syrel where no light exists and limited to venturing above the surface only at night. though the mutation manifests only in their female offspring.

Nixies are the minority whose paternal blood runs strong enough to overwhelm the preeminent curse in their veins so that they are born Shapeshifters. Their name is derived of the Mer word, "nigh," meaning, to wash or cleanse and to be made pure again. They are essentially cured of the debilitation and will never birth an Asrai. For this, they are highly prized in Syrel, as only one in every two hundred mermaids are born Nix, if that. They resemble half-humans and half-fish like their brothers and sisters, though they possess the capacity of the former to alter their form and the weakness of the latter that ultimately becomes their strength: the ability to turn to water.

ABILITIES
The Nixie are water personified, moving with a grace and stealth impressive even for creatures of the ocean. Unlike Asrai, they may choose when and if they should become water, and are able to manipulate the shape in which they take should they so choose. Consider it to be liquid floating in space, unfettered by the rules of gravity that demands that water must always fall. However, although they are able to resemble a structure in this form, they can neither grasp a solid form nor be grasped by it.

They are shapeshifting water spirits able to possess the forms of humans and animals, although any shape not inherent to their own can only be worn for a limited time. Their gift for transfiguration allows them only to imitate the bodies of other beings, but never their minds. Therefore, although a Nix could wear the appearance of a falcon and even the shape of their vocal cords to allow them to sound like one, they could not fly if they did not already know how. Contrary to some myths, Nixie cannot alter clothes, and their capacity to shapeshift is strictly limited to their own biological matter. Water reveals their true forms, and forces them to return to their Mer or liquid identities.

The Nixie possess a number of true or original forms that may be alternated without being subject to time limits, though only two may be used underwater. One is liquid and the second their true human face. Their legs turn immediately to tails when in contact with liquid and vice versa, but their upper bodies remain the same unless consciously manipulated. Although Nixies cannot transform into other magic creatures, due to many of their paternal ancestors being Kelpies, they are able to take on the forms of brook horses, white beasts resembling unicorns.

Like all Merfolk, Nixes have the ability to breathe underwater and protect others from drowning with a kiss. However, being Water Fae, they weaken the longer they are away from it. Although Laira's melodies do not have the hypnotic quality inherent to Naiads and Asrai, she does still have a mesmerising voice, albeit not a typically magical one. They have an exceptional ability to sense the state of the ocean and of those with which they have a special bond, their ability growing stronger with the connection, be it by blood or choice. Because of this, Laira experiences her twin brother's pain and joy as if it were her own and is as aware of his whereabouts as she is of the placement of her hand with her eyes closed.

The Syreli in particular have superior night vision and though Nixie will not turn to foam, they are still sensitive to heat sunlight. They are more vulnerable to heat stroke, dehydration, sunburn and other afflictions of the sun. A Nixie exposed to sunlight and dry land for an extended period of time will ultimately die.



























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HISTORY
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OTHER
Answer Here {Anything else to add}

So begins...

Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Blaidd Drewg
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#, as written by Layla
Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii


"If you frown too hard, you'll turn into a coconut tree," a breathless voice warned. "Then you'll turn into a potato and die."

The woman giggled to herself, her limbs tangled in crimson, silk linen sheets. Her eyes of sultry blue stared at nothing and everything; at something beyond the blankness of the towering ceiling and at something closer than her heart. The deadly, cloy, intoxicating scents of Wolfsbane, Nightshade and Foxglove drenched the room in its heaviness; painting the whites of the Witch's dilated eyes red. Her fingers curled limply around her soft golden locks as she began to Awaken.

She'd been Pathworking for some time now, wandering in the luminescence between the Spirit World and the Mortal World. Days had passed, possibly weeks, but she felt none of it. It was ironic, really, as she was probably closer to Hell than anything else - she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything at that moment, really - except that she was drifting like a leaf, back down to Earth.

The Witch of Nobility had spoken to Blaidd, her Familiar, in the depths of the misty Spirit World. At least, she thought she had, she couldn't bring herself to care enough to make sure. Perhaps she'd tugged on the wrong strings and had instead called her Daimion a potato, in that case - hahaha. She briefly wondered what Suyag would've said had she told him to fix his gloomy demenour - "Don't be obnoxious. I am the epitome of perfection." Oh yes, she could imagine him saying such a thing. Clearly, the Vampire had a superiority complex. But what would've been worse was if she'd accused Lord Manacia of frowning too much and of being a plant. Not that she'd be lying, of course; the skeleton needed to lighten up. He was worse than a coconut tree - he was a reversed mermaid. There, she'd thought it. She'd probably accidentally projected it. She'd probably wake up dead.

"Oh lord, I'm funny," she mumbled out loud, blinking the thickness of the trance from her eyes. Wiggling her legs, Zarya planted her dainty feet on the floor and dragged herself to a wobbly stand. She didn't wish to awaken from the dizzying float of her Flying Ointment but alas, life must go on. Her thoughts were jumbled, not unusually cheerful and, well, if she'd not been a Witch, she would've been a drug addict.

Okay, she was.

Zarya yawned, a strangely feminine sound. She had no idea where she was but this was not her shirt. The buttoned up - or rather, was supposed to be buttoned up but was left presently left open - shirt slipped over both shoulders, the length of it reaching past her knees to her ankles. Definitely not her shirt. What did it matter, clothes were tiresome and she'd wander the world naked if it didn't mean being arrested. Not that she'd stay arrested for very long, of course. And she couldn't, for the life of her, imagine anyone asexual enough to want her to put a shirt on. Please, she was the sexiest Witch alive. One day she would create the greatest spell of all time and she would name it 'The Emperor's Robes.' It would allow her to wear nothing but appear to be fully clothed to "sensitive eyes." Yes, that sounded like a grand idea.

"I'm a genius!" she shouted.

Clapping her hands together twice, Zarya commanded, "Jyel seff lie masure!" Suddenly, a humongous bag that was almost as big as her and certainly twice as heavy appeared before her. Zarya clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and stuck a hand in the large velvet-blue bag. Taking out a glass globe filled with what appeared to be the wings of a dragon made of snow beating against the isolated wind of the sphere, Zarya called, "Daimion," as she shook the globe furiously. Light burst from her body until all she was was but the Sun. Zarya's glowing form shattered until it disappeared into the void.

Wobbling from the momentum of the Teleportation spell or her trance-inducing herbs, Zarya found herself exactly where she'd wished to be. Well, almost.

"Why, hello, Sir Dwarf. I see you have the pleasure of my very tushy behind. How's it hanging?" she sing-songed. "Get it? Hanging? These things?" Zarya wiggled her finger at the bonds that strapped the creature to his bed - the same creature she was currently sitting on. Laughing, Zarya jumped off the man, still clothed in someone else's garments with nothing underneath but what might've passed off as a panties if they'd been bigger.

"Daimion!" she called cheerfully as she leaped into said Warlock's arms. Zarya snuggled her head into the folds of his iridescent clothing, that were unnaturally soft as usual. The Warlock was significantly taller than her but it didn't matter, he was adorable. "How have you been, my little pumpkin?" Of course, the small blonde calling the seven foot man "little pumpkin." Yes, that made a world of sense.

Zarya laughed at seemingly nothing but everything was funny right now. Placing her wrists to the back of Daimion's neck, Zarya pulled him down to press her lips firmly against his. Her hands roamed over whatever skin they could find but Daimion's clothes were stupid. She was feeling deprived. How long had it been since she'd pressed her naked skin against another? Her Gancanagh blood disapproved; she was hungry.

Pulling herself from her Warlock, Zarya blinked her dilated pupils slowly. Yes, more. More, more, more. Her gigantic bag of spheres had been teleported with her - fantastic. Zarya reached into the deep bag, burying half her body in the endless piles of Magick. "Aha!" she exclaimed, pulling two empty spheres of glass from the midst. Holding the fragile globes tenderly in her palms, Zarya envisioned Blaidd and Suyag, pouring their essence into the globes until one contained a swirl of blood and the other of sleek, deadly wolves. "Cresae," she said, her Russian accent as thick as it always was.

Suyag and Blaidd would evaporate and reappear before her - at least, she hoped they would. Zarya's mind was foggy and - what is the meaning of life? Zarya waited a few moments, too exhausted to observe if the two Nobilities had appeared. The world tilted, or rather, she tittered off balance and stared at her imaginary friends. Perhaps her brew had been a little too strong this time. No, it could never be too strong, not until the day Blaidd turned bald and Suyagg became a Vegan - "Hahaha."

Zarya rolled her neck before pitter pattering barefooted across the floor to a nearby chair. The supposedly sexy Witch sat upon the chair, wiggling her bottom before turning her sultry gaze towards Daimion. A corner of her crimson lips tilted upwards as she whispered in her breathy, Russian-laced voice, "Put it in here," she commanded, pointing at her mouth. "I'm hungry."

She was also vegetarian.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Scarlet Lagorúthel
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Life flickered in and around the eyes of Th'drago, as the dragon bore itself deep within the conscious and subconscious mind of the elf before them. Every little secret, to the most open of ideas and words were open to him; everything laid bare. From the time that he was a child, to the moment he was taken into Daimion's 'care' was absorbed into its mind, and eaten. It had found a small link between the elf and Scarlet, then, and watched as it pulsed back to her. '<Interesting,>' it whispered to Daimion, who was busy keeping the path between them open with his own magicks. 'Your other "master will be wishing to have his hands upon this one, it would seem.' At a nod from the warlock, however, the serpent sped off into the deeper reassesses of the elf's mind, corrupting it, and ultimately brainwashing him, but still kept the link between father and daughter strong. No doubt that the elf maiden could feel such a thing, and perhaps a small glimpse at the taint which was spreading through him.

The serpent had just returned, coiling itself at the base of the warlock's brain stem, when the appearance of a large bag made him groan slightly, a headache forming between his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he waited for only a brief second before, sure enough, Zarya appeared, but upon the elf's chest. Although it had been some time since his last run in with the Seductress, a spark erupted within him, and a longing desire blossomed beneath his breast. It was quickly quashed, however, by the serpent, who had growled slowly, saying, 'You have too much on your plate before you can even think about dessert.' It was the truth, even if his body had silenced itself, but a hard truth was still better than anything right now. Even though his desires for her were evident, he did not need her right now. Unfortunately for him, she kissed him after calling the elf a 'dwarf' to its face. The effect of her kiss was like fire melting the ice from his bones, making him feel more alive. He wanted her then and there, but knew it would have to wait.

'Little "Pumpkin"?' The serpent within him laughed its booming laughter, mocking him completely. The warlock cared little for the pet names the succubus had given him, only the physical exertions that would follow such meaningless foreplay. What had surprised the both of them, completely and utterly, was her bold statement of of wanting Daimion to place himself within her mouth. Only a lesser man would be helpless not to do as she had ordered, but he had far surpassed the lesser men of this world, and stood among the greatest. Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, he began to mutter to himself whilst waving his other hand at the wall behind her. A large void-portal swirled into existence, then, and shadowy hands slithered out to take the bag, along with its contents, to the pocket dimension he had constructed for her all those years ago. "They will be within your chambers," he said softly, slowly, as the portal closed.

Bending over, he gently lifted her with a single arm, cradling her close to his chest as though she were his child. In a way, some, here, would believe this to be a truth, but those who would foolishly believe so would be dooming themselves. She never did care for being treated as a child, but if she continues to act the way that she has been acting, then that is exactly how she will be treated. Several imps appeared in various forms, each chatting up at the warlock in their own respective languages. "<Peace,>" he said, quieting them down. One of the imp appeared upon his shoulder, whispering the words that the vampire lord had said to it. "Prepare his gateway, then," his reply was booming, echoing within the small enclosed space, "and drain the elf of half his blood. It shall be presented the the vampire lord upon his arrival. Afterwards, ask my lord Manacia if he will accept a gift in the form of a living body. Tell him that the one to be presented has a strong link to one of the Mystics that had escaped." He was sure it would peak his lord's interest, and at the elf's yell of pain, he grinned his most evil of grins.

"My dear Zarya," he said softly, the features upon his face had smoothed suddenly, while his magicks explored her physical form, causing small shocks here and there, "How I have missed you." A long kiss had followed his statement, before he reluctantly pulled himself away. Turning his head, still carrying her lithe form, shocking her body here and there, he walked the few metres down the corridor, and watched as one of the more magnificent gateways were being erected in the center of the chamber. It was cover in blood red rubies, signifying the fact that it was made only for vampires, but if a non-vampire were to cross it, they would be completely drained of blood by the guardians within. He had no desire to find out what those guardians were, however, because he had left that up to Suyag upon the first day of its creation. It was the same with the others, but with his master, he had taken upon himself to bind a single creature within it, another Lich King.

His attention was drawn back to the witch, however, and he whispered, "Let us retire to my personal chambers. We have some time before they complete the portal, and call for Lord Suyag to invite him here." Power arched around them, as he held her closer, reshaping the world about them into a bed chamber. The chamber had a single piece of furniture, which was made up of the highest qualities of materials, as well as encompassing most of the room. The sheets, pillows, and blankets were made up of the same iridescent cloth that he wore over his form, but the mattress itself was made up of a red fabric that would only grow softer and dryer if liquids were splashed upon it. "You are hungry, I take it." It was a statement more than a question, and he tossed her into the centre of the bed. Once her body settled, he appeared next to her in only his small clothes. "Then allow me to sate that hunger," his whisper became a slight tease, as his hand and magicks began their exploration. Soon, he would sate his own desires and lusts, but for now, he would need to prepare her for the inevitable, as it would be a while until anyone would see them again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii
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#, as written by Layla
Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii


Zarya jumped. The ear-piercing roar reverberated against the walls, causing the world around the source to vibrate with a droning energy - it gave Zarya a headache. Groaning, she sat up slowly, her legs still tucked around Daimion's hips. She rolled her eyes, pressing her fingers against her temples. Sometimes it really sucked being so sensitive to what the eyes could not see, it made her irritable and miserable. She did not remember the feeling of not hurting for pain was all she knew. It didn't matter, one had to be optimistic; afterall, she was very much used to such pains.

Running her fingers through Daimion's hair, she grinned, "Think he'll join us?"

Extracting herself from the warmth of her Warlock's large frame, Zarya tugged on Daimion's lower lip with her teeth before kissing him one last time - for now. Zarya untangled the wildness of her hair with ease. It was not difficult, untangling silk. She drew herself from the large mattress. Pressing her index and middle fingers together and folding her other three, she began to draw a rectangular frame slightly larger than her on thin air. Glowing lines traced her finger tip and a mirror began to ripple into existence. Zarya stepped through with ease, as casually as if she did this on a daily basis. When she stepped out from the other side of the liquid mirror, she was clad in a dark red dress that revealed her naked back and her crimson wings. Her Gancanagh heritage left her with a pair of sunset-kissed fairy wings, translucent and feather light. They were smooth, like silk, with an intricate network of patterns that made the small, fragile bones of her wings. She could have them disappear at will but it made her uncomfortable to do so, although she'd long become used to her lack of comfort. It was difficult to feel at ease when it felt as if you were missing a limb. Her wings, especially the edges, were 'chipped' in some places, as if she'd been burnt or torn - which she had been, actually. Apparently, it was not normal for a Witch to sprout baby wings on her 13th birthday. It had taken her a decade to master a spell which made them disappear, somewhat. Her half Gancanagh father failed to reveal his Fae bloodline, causing Zarya much inconvenience. The townsfolk had dragged her into the middle of the town square, chained her and attempted to saw her wings off, crush their web of delicate bones, set them aflame, sizzle them away with acid and attach her body to one horse and each wing to another, sending the creatures in separate directions. It did nothing but cause her great, everlasting pain.

Zarya turned her back away from Daimion, greatly disliking the thought of him seeing them. She was a confident Witch, of course. Always. But her wings were the one part of her she did not like - they were hideous, as far as she was concerned. The damage the humans had done was irreparable, she'd tried and she had to admit - sometimes she deeply wished they'd succeeded in ripping her wings from her spine. She'd always believed in standing tall and not letting silly emotions hold you back, however. If you were afraid of something - like the world seeing her shameful wings - you did not let it hold you back from living. She was feeling braver than usual today, which was something otherworldly all on its own, and so decided to wear her heritage on display.

Besides, Gancawitch was a funny word.

"Silly, Suyag," she said casually, painting a well practiced smile on her face. "Always one for melodrama, don't you think?"

Slipping from her Warlock's room, Zarya followed the dreadful, although beautiful, blood-stained pulse of Suyag's energy to find his tall, brooding frame. Although not as massive as Daimion, the Blood God was significantly taller than her. She didn't mind, the taller the better. Zarya gazed through her lashes at him the silver ring around her dilated pupils glinting in the lighting as she tilted the corners of her lips to a seductive smirk. "Suyag, my bloodthirsty Vampire. Is that how you Vampires attract potential mates? By the obnoxious loudness of your roars? Manly, really. I'm utterly captivated," she purred in her Russian accent.

Zarya tilted her head to the side, her blonde locks brushing past her hips as they fell from her shoulders to reveal her smooth neck. Zarya trailed a suggestive hand over her body, lingering at her exposed neck. She'd admit that the Vampires intrigued her and she wished to have a taste of them. Or rather, she wished for them to have a taste of her. Curiosity, that was all. What did being drained feel like? Hell? Heaven? Both? She'd lain with Vampires before, of course, but she'd never allowed them to drink from her. There was only one Vampire she would ever offer her blood to and that was Suyag - he had the greatest power of all bloodsuckers, after all. It would aid her in her ascend to the top. Alas, she half believed Suyag to be asexual. Not that she cared, of course, for it did not matter. She did not care for one's orientation - she was irresistible to all.

"Ah, push it - push it good. Ah, push it - p-push it real good. Hey! Ow! Push it good!" her iMind sang in her ear through the new sort of Mind Wi-Fi Apple had invented just this year. Zarya had a fondness for the 1900s and Salt N Pepa were one of her many likes. Zarya tugged on the 'Answer' string in her mind. "What?" she asked all too cheerfully.

"We've found them," announced the raspy voice of a man who'd smoked too many cigarettes - Ivann.

"Found what? Your manhood? Please, tell me more, tell me more. Does it have a car?" she sing-songed sarcastically. Okay, she was being unreasonably frisky but she had both Daimion and Suyag in one room. There was much to be done.

"The group of Mystics you were searching for? We're sending you the coordinates." A download bar appeared in Zarya's mind. "Unless you already know where they are?"

Zarya raised a perfectly arched brow at both Warlock and Vampire - they probably did but she'd been asleep for possibly an entire month. "Cocaine. Heroin. The usual, you know? I think I might've burnt a few thousand brain cells or two. I knew I never should've slept with that Werewolf - even if he'd promised a land of chocolate. I currently have a Vampire and Warlock waiting my "assistance." You know, taking off clothes and all that jazz. Very tiring job, if I may say so myself."

"What do you wish of me, my Queen?" asked the man on the other end, pointedly ignoring her speech.

"Just your body, baby. On my waist, through my hair. I think about it when you touch me there," she sang more breathlessly than usual. It looked rather unusual, her seemingly talking to thin air.

"I will await your orders, my lady," Ivann said quickly before disconnecting.

Zarya laughed, a feminine sound full of warmth - Ivann was such a funny guy.

"Where were we?" she continued with a fond smile, her blue eyes drifting over the men before her. "Right, breakfast." Zarya curled a lock of hair around her finger before opening a portal with her fingers into - well, she wasn't sure but it smelled like a cafe, looked like a cafe and... It probably wasn't a cafe.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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Edzard Killian
-Warning: Please do not take any information in this post (the information about WWII) too seriously-

"Hehe...checkmate!" High pitched laughter shrilled inside the cold room. A male with snow white hair knocked over the board and picked up a fallen pawn with his slender fingers "Ah, I win against myself once again..." Throwing the piece away and watched as it collided with the wall, a dull sound echoed in the dark. Faking his voice, the male chuckled mockingly "And the crowd goes wild~ The awesome me has defeated Fate!"

The male finally stood up to pick up another piece on the ground. This time, it was a knight. A bitter glint suddenly flashed in his red eyes as he crushed the wooden chess piece with his fist. "Hah! Like Fate can defeat the awesome me~" He moved to the nightstand to light up the candle, its dimmed light made the male's face appeared to be almost ghost-ish. Picked up a small piece of metal that had been laid on the table, the male traced his finger lightly across the cool material

"Edzard Killian - 32 years old - Major General of the Prussian Army - Killed in action" The male - now could be identified as Edzard Killian spoke softly. Snorted and put the cross down, Edzard looked at himself in the mirror. Who would have guessed that young, talented General was a demon? His death had hit the Army hard... Prussia had fallen shortly after that. However, Edzard supposed he should have seen it coming. He had lived long enough to know which countries would rise and which countries would fall. It was one of the reasons why Edzard chose to 'kill' himself and allow himself to take up another identity. Even so, it had hurt when he was forced to abandon the country he loved, the country that had raised him and sheltered him. Now, as a mere sign of respect, Edzard had forced himself to wear his military clothes - maybe it was a reminder for him about what he had lost... maybe it was something else. But... for whatever reasons, Edzard hadn't been able to discard it and now, looking at the swastika symbol, Edzard felt oddly comforted. Even someone as awesome as him needed to be reminded of the past once in a while.

Running his right hand through his white hair, Edzard smirked as the hair was smoothened stylishly. Ah, how he loved his hair. Of course, people who were as awesome as himself could not go out without a good hairstyle, correct? He yawned and put on his leather black gloves - the smooth material felt warm under his touch. Maybe his gloves were warm, maybe it was his hands that were cold. He breathed out hot air, the white smoke lingered in front of his face just a fraction longer than normal air. Chuckling again, Edzard walked to the window and pulled out the black curtains.

'BAD CHOICE!' His mind screamed as his sensitive eyes were assaulted by the bright, warm sun light. Closing the curtains and looked away, Edzard used his free hands to massage his eyes. Oh right, new mental note: Never look into the sunlight after spending an entire night playing chess in the dark. Grumbling about how the sun had destroyed his awesome image, Edzard visibly sighed in relief as the cool air returned to his room. Another note to self, he should really never open that damned window. Living in the dark was so much better than living under the bright sunlight.

Looking at the wall clock, Edzard's eyebrow twitched. It was almost time for him to get out of his room. He wondered if anything interesting would happen around here soon. It was rather boring lately. Checking himself out in the mirror one last time, the demon let his lips curl into a mischievous smile. Who should he annoy today? It had been a long time since he had seen that damned, wannabe Warlock so maybe this was the perfect time to pay that jerk a visit and to show him that he could never be as good as his awesome self. Or maybe he could pay his lovely Zarya a visit... God knew that it had been a long time since he had seen her beautiful face... or enjoyed her warmth.

Too busy thinking how to annoy his self-exclaimed rival, Edzard's eyes suddenly landed on a stack of paper in front of him. Picking a paper up, the Wild Card examined it carefully. "Oh, come ooooonnnn... you again? Why do you keep haunting me? Can you just... take a day off or something?" Edzard complained loudly to the pile of paperwork. Damned! He thought he had finished them yesterday. Why did they just keep breeding like rabbits anyway? It was so annoying...

Edzard's eyes locked into the burning candle as he childishly wanted to burn all his burden into a black, smoky pile. However, fortunately for him, reasons won at last and with an audible thump, Edzard dropped himself on his seat, groaning like a spoiled child. Why was the awesome him the only person who had to do so much paperwork? Oh, right, it was because he was the only person who did what he liked. Looking at a paper with a red 'Mission Report' stamped on it, Edzard dropped his head on the table with another 'thump'. This would take forever to finish. He sooooo didn't have time for this.

Sighing loudly again, Edzard glanced at the pile of paper and picked up a random paper and muttered "Mission Report, don't care... I can do that later..." Tossing it beside without even caring, Edzard continued to pick another one up "Mission Report...again..." Repeating his previous actions, Edzard continued to discard the paper carelessly and read another one "Ooooh? Interesting... those damned Mystics have finally decided to make their moves, huh?" Pursing his lips, Edzard put the important paper on top of another, surprisingly much smaller and neater pile.

He continued the process of throwing away the 'useless papers' and keeping the important ones until his room had become a mess of flying notes and reports. Finally, with his paperwork 'marvelously' done, Edzard stood up, pleased with himself. He was the best. Stepping on the papers to get out of his room, the demon decided to leave the mess for his servants to clean up. They always did that after all, no need for him to get himself dirty by wasting his precious time cleaning his mess.

Slamming the wooden door shut, Edzard's face fell when he realized he was alone in the empty Hall. Where was everyone anyway? Were they having fun without the awesome him? That was so mean. Looking at his pocket watch, Edzard cursed loudly. Damnit! He was running late on schedule... again! Hastily smoothened his clothes, the demon faintly remembered that there would be something interesting event at that wannabe Warlock's castle. Maybe he should go there and join them... That would be funny. And besides, what was more awesome than an awesome entrance done by a very awesome demon such as himself?

Making up his mind, Edzard allowed his body to turn into thin, gray smoke and began to drift to Daimion's castle. In his smoky form, the demon recognized sluggishly the face of the Blood God - the only one vampire in the world that could slightly (just barely, mind you) match his awesomeness, the face of his rival - Daimion the 'great...not', Edzard thought with a smirk and of course, the face of his one and only love - Zarya. But, wait a second, what was she doing here? Had that jerk managed to seduce her? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Edzard heard himself corrected that she had probably come here on her own but he ignored that part completely. Returned to his human form, Edzard dropped a knee on the stone floor dramatically and stood up, eyes shone mischievously. Dusting himself, the Wild Card gave a mocking two finger salute to the rest of the people inside the room "The awesome me is here... Yo, what's up?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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With lust filled eyes, the warlock stared down at the lithe figure of his lover, watching her squirm excitedly. She was one of the few females that would actually spark a human response they had called "LOVE", but that was an absurdity we would not dream upon. The woman beneath him wanted him for his body, and he needed to, had to, accept that as a reality. Eventually, she may "love" him with the human emotion, but for now, their relationship was mostly physical. His thoughts would go on, but a great roar echoed within the chamber, signalling the entrance of Lord Suyag. 'Really?' His mind questioned to himself, 'Of all the times he would announce himself, he would do so during our coupling.' The demon within his mind chuckled at his mind's words and voiced, '<You do not wish to keep the Vampire lord waiting, but you will need to greet him with something more appropriate than your small clothes.>'

The serpent was rarely wrong, however, but before he could return the jibe, Zarya had pulled his head down his a small tease and a long kiss. Daimion had long wished for her kisses to last forever, but that would mean shirking his abilities towards his ruler, and he would never do that. Sighing to himself, his eyes followed the witch as she summoned a dress for herself. 'My poor Zarya,' his mind whispered, staring with disgust upon her shattered wings, 'How they have hurt you so.' He would have taken her far from this world, after he had listened to her tales of torture by the hands of feared humans. Alas, she would not allow him to do so, and before he could voice his concern for her, she had vanished. A small chuckle escaped his lips then, causing him to vanish from the bed, only to appear next to it wearing his own clothing made up of the same iridescent material that covered the bed before him. "<Such audacity,>" he chuckled to himself, "<Oh how I do enjoy her company,>" and vanished from the room as well.

He appeared next to the seductress at the end of her trying to charm the vampire before them. His eyes rolled in their sockets at her antics, and knew it was foolish to even try and be jealous, as she would only tease him for it. She was chattering to them both when he summoned an imp to his side, "<Take item number 401163 to my estate.>" The imp bobbed its head before vanishing down a corridor, and, turning back to the two before him, he had a sinking feeling that there was an unwanted presence gaining entry. His fears were confirmed as smoke began to form in front of them, condensing itself into that of a man. Before it could form completely, he reached behind the witch, and, with a twist of his wrist, masked the imperfections that marred her back. "The awesome me is here," a groan erupted from his throat, and was echoed by the serpent, '<Why does it have to be him?>' Turning slowly, he spied the Demon of Nobility, wearing his usual German officer get-up.

"Edzard," Daimion hissed slowly, using his most thickest accent to make it sound as though he had said "lizard" instead, "Do you always have to show up without an invitation? No matter," he stood up straight, eyes become darker than pitch, and cracks had appeared upon his face. Flecks of skin drifted from it, as his canines began to elongate. If one were to look at the patches where skin had flecked away, one would see a darkness that had no name. A struggle within the giant's body soon erupted, causing him to shake and vibrate violently as he sought for control. The warlock had only one rule for everyone to follow, and had made it clear that if any were to break it, he would rain his wrath upon them. This rule even stretched towards their king, but only Zarya was not enamored by it, and that rule was a simple one to follow: Do not intrude where one is not wanted nor asked upon.

The face of the giant grew thunderous, but gradually, his skin became whole while his eyes stayed darker than pitch. "Someone always breaks my rule," he grumbled softly. With a raised hand, he said aloud, "Guards, attend to your master." The floor beneath them rumbled, as a dozen holes began to appear, and six foot tall automatons began to pour out of them. They each carried a single short sword and a silver shield with the image of a black dragon burning a temple emboldened the centre. They had surrounded him, Zarya, and Suyag protectively, but at his word, they converged on the demon, aiming their swords at him. They had encircled him then, as a massive portal erupted behind them. Two colossus stepped through the portal, one made up of pure copper, the other made up of shining steel. The one of copper had a massive whip in its hands, while the other carried a ballista in its hands. Each step they took was a small earthquake, making the warlock lift his lover into the air just as she created a portal into the human world. "My dear Zarya," he said, gently closing the portal before them, "You mustn't go there, you will only ruin your appetite." Turning to the vampire, he lowered his head slowly, "Suyag, forgive me for not greeting you properly, but we must leave this place. It has grown unpleasant," his eyes drifted over to Edzard, disgust had plainly etched its way into his facial features.

"To all present here," Daimion's voice boomed within and without the facility, "Prepare everything for mass transportation to Site Beta, and begin sequences to transport Edzard," again it sounded as though he had said 'lizard', "off site." Turning towards the colossus and the automatons he said, "When you have escorted him to his portal, transport yourselves to Site Omega for decontamination procedures." The same imp from before had appeared then, carrying two items, a dark green bottle with a red liquid sloshing inside and a silver briefcase. He thanked the imp for the two items, and took them after setting his lover back onto the floor. "Ah," he started, making the imp turn back, "Transport the elf to my Lord Manacia's castle, and explain the elf's situation towards one of the Mystics, then report to Site Beta." The imp bowed, then, allowing him to return to the pair before him, completely ignoring the other. "My apologies," he bowed low to the two, "This will not take long. Power erupted around them, focusing in the space between them, pushing outwards, until it encompassed the three of them. His own spell made certain that no other magicks would try to enter the spell he had enacted, and allowed him to transport all three of them safely to one of his many estates. "Shall we go then?" He asked it in a rhetorical fashion, as the world about them faded out.

As the world faded back, and the magicks subsided, the warlock collapsed into a chair. Sweat had beaded his forehead, and his breathing became labored. "<Gods,>" he whispered to himself, "<I need a vacation.>" Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small kerchief, and wiped the sweat from his face. Before them laid a long table with a white silk cloth atop it. Lit candles were held in golden holders, showering the silver platters of various foods and drinks in a warm, golden glow. Beyond the candle light, however, was absolute darkness, which never bothered the warlock in the least. He stood up slowly, then, walking towards Zarya, he handed the silver briefcase to her. Leaning down, he whispered, "My gift to you, my darling succubus. A new pair of wings crafted to mirror what should have been yours." He stood up slowly, a pained look appeared upon his features, "Please," he began, "Sit and dine to your hearts content." In his hands, he held up the dark green bottle towards Suyag. "A gift suited for a lord of your standing. Fresh elven blood, over one hundred years in age. It was taken from one who is physically fit, and Italian born." He set the bottle down onto the table, and placed a silver chalice next to it. "If you will sit on my right, my lord Vampire," a golden, high backed chair, covered in blood rubies like the portal, appeared to his right, whereas an ivory chair covered in fine silks and pearls appeared on his left. "We have much to discuss, and not enough time to dally."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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#, as written by Layla
"The awesome me is here... Yo, what's up?"

Zarya smirked at the sound of the familiar voice. She turned her sultry gaze of iridescent blue from the Vampire to the Demon, although her attention remained all-encompassing. The Witch was many things: reckless, lazy, never serious and pointedly unaware when it came to matters of the heart - but trusting and defenceless she was not. Behind those slow to blink, dilated eyes was a woman of keen deception and observation. She'd masked her utter disgust for her "clients" as a young woman with those ocean-filled eyes and she'd be damned if she were to ever lose her facade. Let them believe she was an incapable child with womanly assets who knew nothing but how to please a man, woman and everything in between.

It was not as if her reputation could get any worse.

Zarya felt her sunset wings fade into temporary non-existence and she shuddered at the sudden loss of what felt to be her limbs. She drew her eyes upwards to stare at Daimion, although she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor, a careful mask of nonchalance shielding her thoughts. Was he ashamed of her disfigurement? Did he find her distasteful? Had he been too disgusted by her broken wings? A spark of anger rippled down her spine and she wound her fingers tightly together. She had not expected much from the Warlock of Nobility but she'd... What? Thought he'd like you all the same? Beauty is the only thing you got right and truly, you don't even have that.

The Witch pursed her lips, practicing a smile that looked more to be a grimace. Her heart felt as if it had ripped itself from the veins that held it in place to pound against her ribcage. The feeling was strange yet suspiciously familiar. Did she feel - mother of Witches forbid it - hurt? Was this what emotional pain felt like? Yes, it was. She recognised it from her visions and the droning misery of the people that surrounded her. But this felt different - heavier and more central somehow. It suffocated her as if she were drowning into oblivion. What did it mean? Why was it there? Was she absorbing the agony of someone else? Yes, that must have been the reason.

"Edzard. Do you always have to show up without an invitation? No matter," the Warlock spoke. Her consciousness shirked away, their tangled auras separating as she drew her aura of moonlit silver, midnight and day blue into herself. She appeared to be emotionally compromised; a tedious chore she would soon have to fix. She tilted her head to the side at the sight of Th'Drago's cracking face. His eyes were obsidian, the dark colour covering the whites of his eyes - and she'd thought her irises were unusually large. It was abnormal for a Warlock to possess such strange skills of transformation but Th'Drago was unusual himself. He was most likely the most powerful Warlock alive and possibly, of all time. Perhaps he'd mastered the art of shapeshifting - removing her wings was as far as she'd ever gotten. Zarya had never paid attention during her long past Shapeshifting classes. Her tutor was a boring old lady with a sickly British accent. The woman barely spoke Russian. She'd also, unfortunately, been Zarya's English teacher.

"Guards, attend to your master." Zarya raised her brows at the large automans that protected them from Edzard - what was the point? The Demon was harmless. At least, he'd never hurt her but why would he? She supposed he viewed her as a pretty face of no threat. Everyone did.

"Ooo, a fight. Background music, anyone?" Zarya ran her fingers over an invisible guitar she'd made of the Air's energies, the sounds of the Magic-made electric guitar filling the space or lack thereof. "Think twice before you touch my girl. Come around I'll let you feel the burn. Think twice before you touch my girl. Come around no more," she sang, laughing as she tasted the crackling anger and jealousy that oozed from both men. It tasted of lovely Paprika, anise and pepper. Oh, she could bathe in this all day long.

"My dear Zarya. You mustn't go there, you will only ruin your appetite," Th'Drago spoke gently. Zarya raised a brow, watching her portal to a red light district close. He was right, it would've. She found the sight of prostitutes bitter, reminding herself of what she'd once done for food and shelter. Not that her occupation had changed very much since then. She'd merely traded money for power. But Th'Drago's advice merely made her wish to reopen the portal and go through, if just to spite him. That was strange - she'd never much cared for spite.

"Suyag, forgive me for not greeting you properly, but we must leave this place. It has grown unpleasant."

Zarya found herself by a candlelit dinner shortly after but it seemed she did not need the portal to ruin her appetite, she'd done it all on her own. She watched as Th'Drago wiped his sweating brow and watched as he placed a silver briefcase in her hands. "My gift to you, my darling succubus. A new pair of wings crafted to mirror what should have been yours," he whispered in her ear.

Her expression remained passive as she stared at the briefcase as if she did not know what to do with it. Although, honestly, she didn't. Her heart was undecided, one half clenching viciously as if it no longer wished to beat and the other expanding like it would explode from her breast. A mixture of hurt and relief filled her. Beautiful wings - that's what she often found herself wishing for. Actually, no. No wings was what she normally found herself wishing for. It was... Kind and considerate of Dai- the Warlock to give her such a gift. Yet it pained her to think he did not like her the way she was. That he could not accept her flaws -

And that she could not accept her own.

"Thank you," she said cheerily, slipping a lovely smile over her frown as one would slip a mask over their eyes. "Now I may flutter about, rolling in pollen and living in houses made of flower petals. That's every woman's dream."

Zarya pulled out a chair further from the two men and sat daintily on it, as if it might break under her slim frame. You never knew how much breasts and backsides could weigh.

"We have much to discuss, and not enough time to dally," Th'Dargo spoke in his masculine voice. Zarya could not quite bring herself to concentrate as her mind persisted in its wandering. She never should have revealed her wings to him, she did not understand why she did. Why did she care, anyway? Everyone had a role to play in the world and hers was that of a lover, she was to do as her "clients" wished. If Th'Dargo wanted her scars fixed, her scars would be fixed. She would never reach the top this way.

Staring into the abyss beyond the dinner table, Zarya felt a headache pressing against her skull like a box of shrinking walls had been placed over her head. She frowned, pressing her palms against her temples as she leaned her elbows against the table.

"Excuse me," she said, standing gingerly from her chair. No, she would not get far enough. Visions could not be stopped and they cared not for her wellbeing nor for her prayers of delay. "Don't let me bite my tongue," she said quickly before darkness descended upon her, the shadows and inky blackness drawing themselves into her body like ants to honey. Her legs crumbled beneath her as her pupils shrunk into non-existence, her eyes of glowing silver and blue staring into a beautiful sky that did not exist.

___________________________


"Daimion," I croak, stumbling as I press my palm against my abdomen. My dress is clings to me in tatters, sliced through where my blood seeps through my fingers. The shadows cling to me like an abusive lover who does not wish to see me go. The world tilts, tipping from side to side like the contraptions they once had in the past - roller coasters, they were called. "Edzard?"

Silence answers.

The debris beneath my bare feet slices through my flesh but it is non-existent compared to the gash that burns through my stomach. I lean against a wall, sliding down to stare at the ill numbness above. My breathing is deep and ravaged, yet they could not be deep enough. My lungs might sizzle away and my abdomen might shred should I breathe too hard so I draw shallow breaths. It is not hard to do for I do not think oxygen exists anymore. I do not think anything exists anymore.

"Please, help me," groans a muffled voice. I roll my head to the side to find myself staring into dirt-clad eyes of what must once have been warm brown. The woman's limbs twist at awkward angles, her face disfigured, as if a bomb had been embedded in her face. Perhaps there had been. She clutches a wee child to her body and I could vomit at the sight of the warped child but there is nothing in me to spill and I fear if I so much as speak, my insides will rip themselves apart.

"Please, just save my daughter," the woman whimpers. She still has the strength to shield her dead child and I find myself marvelling her resilience but what am I to do? Does she believe I can go any further than she? Yes, I could - but only by a few inches. My body is numb and I can no longer feel the agony of it or my left arm that rests uselessly to the side. This is not too bad of a way to die, I suppose.

"Okay," I manage to whisper, so softly I do not think she hears - but she does and her eyes fade into blindness as her Spirit flies to wherever Spirits go. There is a contented smile on her face and I'm not quite sure why I promised such a thing. I could not carry a dead child with me for a hundred miles and beyond. No, I could not carry myself a meter, even if I'd wanted to - which I don't.

I close my eyes, so I may go the way I came - in darkness. There are no blue skies of wonder for me to see.

I imagine Blaidd and his love of money, and I would laugh if I could remember how. I imagine Edzard and his egotistical attitude, and I cannot help but regret everything I have ever said to him. In fact, I regret it all. But I imagine Daimion's hearty laugh and loving eyes and his iridescent bed, anyway. Even though I do not think I have the right to. But I clutch the images to me and sew them to my Spirit so I may bring them with me to wherever I go. Maybe Hell - maybe I will see them there. I think of others, I think of him - until I tire of thinking. Until I tire of it all.

It is the tenderness that breaks our hearts. The loveliness that leaves us stranded on the shore, watching the boats sail away. It is the sweetness that makes us want to reach out and touch the soft skin of another person. And it is the grace that comes to us, undeserving though we may be.

Somewhere in the pain there is pleasure, and that is the most awful part, perhaps.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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When Suyag first arrived he had been tempted by Zarya, though he was there solely for bussiness. She was good at charming. Diplomacy was the same and diplomacy was something that was very good for gaining allies. It always proved to be a greater tool for alliances than force did. When Daimion requested that they go to somewhere more quite but he disagreed. "You two must come too." He told the witch and the demon. Picking up the bottle of rare blood he sat down in the golden chair. There was something that seemed mysterious about the chair though that may have been because Suyag just simply did not like gold in general, the same with gems. He cleared his throat beforeing speaking.

"Before we start I will toss out why I came. I am preparing for war. A war that will decide the fate of this world. I will launch it with or without you support though the support of my fellow nobiles would be much apprechiated. I request that you, Edzard, and Zarya will join me for this war. In return I will grant you whatever you shall desire. As for you Edzard, I have promised Europe in return as well as two trillion Euros to rebuild. The humans will know and fear us as they will realize that losing the war is inevitable. So what is it?" He finished with the final question. He wondered of what kind of price the others would set for the alliances.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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Zarya was gone. Not "teleported" gone, but, rather, she had fled into the inky blackness that surrounded them. In her place, however, was the demon Edzard. His own eyes had become darker than pitch again, and his skin began to flake away. This time, however, he did little to reign it in. The vampire was prattling on about how he was going to fight a war, and wanted, no, he practically demanded their allegiance. Only the desperate, or the foolhardy, would demand such things. "...I will grant you whatever you shall desire." At these words, he began to laugh a booming, hollow laugh, causing the skin about his lips to crumble and fall away, revealing decayed flesh and silvered fangs. "You wish to grant my desired wish?" He couldn't help it, the warlock doubled over with laughter, the skin about his eyes cracking as he squeezed them shut. Eventually, he calmed down, and placed himself within his own chair. "Forgive me, my lord Suyag, but you cannot grant my desires anymore than you can call the moon god Su'en down from his high perch to dance with. However," his expression changed immediately to a sobered, but hard visage. The laughter had faded from his eyes, and with only the cracks in his skin to reveal that he had indeed laughed, it would appear to the onlooker that he had never done so.

"However," the giant continued, "peer into the darkness on my right for a moment." His right arm stretched out, and at a snap of his fingers, light erupted in a small area on his right. In the centre of the light was a single glass case, and in it, a glowing red light trapped within a vial. Standing upon his own feet, which had begun to change into claws, he moved to take the vial. Once in hand, the warlock returned to the table, and placed it in front of the vampire lord. "This is a vial of Dark Blood," he explained, "It is an artificially produced blood that was designed to allow lesser vampires the ability to walk in the sun like a normal human. A small sample, about 5ccs worth, is to be injected into the subject and allowed approximately twenty minutes for it to take full effect. They are, then, given a time limit of about two to three hours, before the Dark Blood is inert." The hair atop his head was falling away, and his tone of voice took on a hollowed echo that boomed around them, even though he was speaking as any would with someone in arms length.

"This is a gift, Suyag," he continued, ignoring the fact that his skin was falling away, revealing decayed flesh and silvered bones beneath it. He was changing, becoming something that even his Lord Manacia had little control over, and the fact that the demon Edzard was here only made it worse. '<Zarya,>' his mind whimpered softly, 'Where are you?>' To the vampire, he narrowed his darkened eyes, and continued with, "A gift for whatever you wish to do with it. However," a single silvered claw was raised near his left cheek, "However, it is not a gift signifying that I will join you in your wars. I have my own part to play, and when the final battle comes, I'll stand with you. I serve my lord Manacia, as you well know, Suyag, and I will not betray him." He sat down, then, as the skin upon his face fell away entirely, revealing a blackened skull grinning with silvered fangs. The skull then began to change its shape, becoming more of a western dragon's skull, while the rest of his form became much larger, emanating a sickly black aura as it grew into a draconic humanoid.

'<Where are you Zarya?>'

------------------------

Th'drago

'<Zarya,>' came the whisperings and whimperings of Daimion, as they both watched her lithe form run from the warlock. He could feel his partner's anguish, and felt his body begin to change. The serpent demon began to take matters into its own claws, and unwrapped itself from the base of the giant's brain stem. It oozed onto the floor, becoming a green mist, and dashed off towards the darkness. It did not take long to find the body of Zarya leaning against a wall, conscious, but breathing hard. "You disappoint me, Zarya," he said, shaping his misted body into a mirror image of Daimion's, but with emerald eyes. "He sees you as yourself, and wishes for your happiness, but you have the gall to run at the one gift he thought would make you smile. Daimion knows of your history, and how you have lost your wings. He is hurting every time you have them out in the open. They are an imperfection, yes, but he has not turned away from you after you first revealed them to him. No, instead, he felt terrible, and begged to hear your story. Afterwards, he gave you his heart, but what did you do with it, lovely Zarya?" his tone became one of disgust, then, making him spit off into the distance, "You gave it back! Do you have any idea how much that hurts him, even to this day?" The image of the warlock shifted, then, causing its head to whip back in the direction of his partner.

Curses ensued from the misted lips. Harsh and vile words that coated the air, causing it to burn between them. Th'drago's form became draconic, a dragon humanoid, but more terrible. Misted bones jutted from its back and joints of various sizes, the emerald eyes had become void of color, and it grew until it touched the ceiling. "He is in pain," he continued, "Did you know that he had one love before you? A blue dragon name Chenguang. She died fighting with him, causing him to go berserk. Friend, foe, bystanders, all died at his hands. His king, Manacia, had to use much of his strength to contain him, stop him from destroying anymore of his allies and resources. I believe it was the only time that both Mystic and Noble worked together, however briefly, to stop his rampage." His own claws clasped each other to emphasize his point.

"When he met you, he felt at peace, and began to feel the human emotion of 'love' once more. The madness that held him was gone when he took you into his bed. He loves you, Zarya," Th'drago's form began to waver, vanishing very slowly, looking upon her with dispassionate eyes, "but do you love him?" The mist wavered, lazily drifting around her, then slowly, it began to drift back towards Daimion, inviting her to join him.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii
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#, as written by Layla
Blue skies snapped wide open. Zarya's heart pounded against its cage, shaking her entire body with its ferocity. Her eyes searched the darkness as the vision filled her thoughts, very nearly bursting at the seams. She pressed a palm to still her heart, or to give herself a comforting half hug, she wasn't sure and it didn't quite matter. She curled her knees to her chest and her head on her knees. A curtain of gold fell over her shoulders to shield her face - she was grateful because she wasn't quite yet ready to pour a mask over her horror.

She was going to die.

Zarya knew better by now that her visions always, always came true. She could do everything in her power to avoid it, she would, and it would happen all the same. There was to be a war - or a terrorist attack she'd been caught in the midst of. Something would happen between her and Daimion - would she betray him? It appeared she was to feel sympathy for humans. Well, perhaps, anyway. Dying made one feel many strange things, including love for cockroaches.

"You disappoint me, Zarya. He sees you as yourself, and wishes for your happiness, but you have the gall to run at the one gift he thought would make you smile. Daimion knows of your history, and how you have lost your wings. He is hurting every time you have them out in the open. They are an imperfection, yes, but he has not turned away from you after you first revealed them to him. No, instead, he felt terrible, and begged to hear your story. Afterwards, he gave you his heart, but what did you do with it, lovely Zarya?" growled an otherworldly voice.

Zarya's limbs froze, as if chilled by the very presence. She lifted her head - slowly, gingerly - to find herself looking at green ash. She furrowed her brows - was it a ghost? Well, what did she expect? If imps existed, surely ghosts of Dragons did as well. It did not feel to be a Spirit, as she'd seen many of those, being sensitive to the world's energies. But this felt different - crueler and more existent than a solid being or at the very least, as. Her preoccupation with its strangeness nearly made her ignore its words but she grasped them from the air before they drifted too far away. Daimion. How did it know Daimion? A fierce protectiveness slithered over her skin as she reached instinctively for the intricate pendant of Aozora that rested on a white gold chain around her neck. Did it wish to harm her Warlock? No, he appeared to care for him? You have strange friends, she mused. Why had she not been introduced to this lovely friend of his? Oh, she could see why.

"You gave it back! Do you have any idea how much that hurts him, even to this day?" She did not understand what he was speaking of. No, it did not understand what it was speaking of. Her relationship with Daimion was purely physical - he loved her no more than he loved a particularly entertaining and attractive plaything. She was not offended by it, of course. For if she hadn't been an attractive plaything, she would've died long ago. She expected nothing more from him and he did not of her. They'd made it clear from the start, had they not?

"He is in pain," it continued. Zarya stilled once again, before deciding to fiddle with the cold pendant that pressed against her skin. She poked the pointed ends of it to her flesh and went through her routine of identifying the emotions she kept so tightly sealed in the mightiest of chests. Worry, sadness, confusion. "Did you know that he had one love before you?" Of course he'd one love before her. More, most likely - because she meant nothing to him. No, the creature of mist was causing her much puzzlement. How did it know so much about Daimion, anyway? Was it telepathic? "A blue dragon name Chenguang. She died fighting with him, causing him to go berserk. Friend, foe, bystanders, all died at his hands. His king, Manacia, had to use much of his strength to contain him, stop him from destroying anymore of his allies and resources. I believe it was the only time that both Mystic and Noble worked together, however briefly, to stop his rampage."

"When he met you, he felt at peace, and began to feel the human emotion of 'love' once more. The madness that held him was gone when he took you into his bed. He loves you, Zarya, but do you love him?" it asked before disappearing from whence it came. Love? Whatever did it mean? She would not know love if it slapped her across the head and stabbed her in the abdomen. Perhaps that was what the vision had meant - that she would die in the hands of this 'love?' Would Daimion kill her? Would she killed herself? Did it mean she was sleeping with too few people? Did she need to give herself to more? Was she to fall from power? Was Daimion to die? Was that what it had all meant? That Daimion would be killed by a person who 'loved' him? By the green mist? None of it made sense and yet, everything did. She needed to share the beds of more and he needed to stop trusting the green ghost.

Zarya stood carefully, patting her maroon dress to clear it of whatever inky darkness it had gathered. Thoughts of her vision and death had temporarily slipped from her mind. She walked, reluctantly towards the pull of Daimion's energy of emerald and gold. It felt rather strange today - perhaps he was unwell.

"Daimion," she called. "I apologise for-"

A draconic skeleton stood in her path, its aura of emerald and gold reaching for her. Zarya's eyes widened for a fraction of a minute before she realised - of course, he could shapeshift. She'd just never realised the multitude of things he could shape shift into. Reaching a hand upwards towards the humongous creature that loomed over her, Zarya tilted her head to the side and ran her fingers over his demonic form. He was rather beautiful, in a strange way. His beauty had always been strange, though. More otherworldly than the otherworldly creatures they, supposedly, were.

"My lord," she said, curtsying before placing a kiss upon whatever part of him she could reach at her height. She'd mastered the art of pulling herself higher - either by gripping his body and lifting herself or by standing on the very tips of her toes. He was very, very tall. It was rather attractive, to be quite honest. "You should not trust cucumber-coloured mist. It looks quite like that brilliant emerald that shines upon your throat... In fact, it looks exactly like it," she mused, squinting to see it better. It shone against the darkness - which made it significantly easier for her. Yes, it felt the same as well. "Why do you carry a leprechaun's ghost with you, my dearest?"

Pausing, she lowered her toes to press her feet to the ground. Zarya watched her Draconic Warlock through her thick lashes and asked, "Do you love me, Daimion?" Running her hands absently over his large form, she thought of what the mist had said. "How do you know? Why would you?" Did love feel like a combination of L, O, V and E? Did it have the same sharp edges, smooth bends and warm crevices of safety? Did it balance dangerously in midair and did it stab one's chest and cushion one's soul as it ripped it apart? No, she would never feel it. It sounded to be a disease.

"Would it please you for me to replace my wings?" Reaching behind her back, she touched the edges of her sunset wings that had glowed into existence. "Does one rip them out and sew a new pair in?" she asked in puzzlement. She would gladly replace her wings if it meant staying in Daimion's favour but she was suspicious of the silver case. The last time anyone had tried to pry her wings off - okay, that was her - they'd bled profusely and stayed sore enough to keep her confined to bed for nearly a month.

She did not know how, she did not believe she should and she did not think she could, but she asked, anyway, "Do you want me to love you?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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Weariness had set in the giant's bones, as the last of his skin fell away. The clothing he had worn was in tatters now, and he appeared more asexual than a male. A choker upon his neck was exposed, revealing a very large emerald in its centre, which began to glow fiercely as a green mist had entered it, pulsating as though it had a heart beat. The draconic head turned towards the two in front of him, saying, "You have what you came for, you will leave now." A doorway opened up behind them, revealing a long tunnel into the unknown. "Think where you wish to go, and it will take you there," he said slowly, receding into the inky darkness that clung to the outside of the light, trying to ooze its way in. Every flame lit was being snuffed out slowly, causing the darkness to crawl closer to the duo, but the skeletal dragon did not seem to care, as it, too, vanished into the darkness.

He was alone for what seemed to be an eternity, until an unknown creature began to crawl upon its form. Looking down, he muttered, "Zarya, where have you been?" She didn't seem to take notice to his words, as she kissed his boney neck tenderly. "You should not trust cucumber-coloured mist. It looks quite like that brilliant emerald that shines upon your throat... In fact, it looks exactly like it," A claw touched the choker, wondering how long the enchantment he wove about it had disappeared. "Why do you carry a leprechaun's ghost with you, my dearest?" The massive head drew itself back in order to see her better before replying with, "That is Th'drago," he rumbled slowly, "A dear friend, as well as a demon. He is housed within this body, and I share it with him as an equal." Their came a grunt within the back of his mind, but did not say anything more. '<Did you go to her?>' Silence. '<Did you find her for me?>' Again, only silence greeted him. He had to turn his attention back towards her, then, in order to listen to her speak more.

"Do you love me, Daimion?" Those words became like ice, piercing his own blackened heart. A part of him longed to feel such emotions, but the stronger part of him squashed such longings, and instead turned towards the logic side of the world. "How do you know? Why would you?" These questions were cascading upon his mind, tearing away his reasoning's of the world. He was a half human in this world, and still was, despite asking the serpent demon to make him wholly a Daemon. He had desired that at one point, but have come to terms with the fact that he can only suppress that side of him, as to just remove it. Unfortunately, such human emotions, like 'love' and 'fear', sometimes bubble to the surface. He enjoyed the former, but had trouble contemplating the latter. Love was an emotion the humans he had observed used to raise their offspring, and the dragoness Chenguang was used for that sort of experiment. Fear, on the other hand, was one he had to lock away, as it caused his body to become still, his heart freeze, and his mind's thoughts to disperse completely.

She began to speak of her wings, then, and instantly, the silver briefcase was next to them. The warlocks form began to shrink, then, as he relaxed with Zarya near him. Skin had begun to grow over his flesh, causing the silvered bones to recede beneath his flesh. The silver briefcase opened up as his head became normal once more. Reaching into the case, he pulled out a vial with a silver liquid within it. "These are nanobots," he began to explain, "They will replicate your wings, after I have poured it upon your back," the vial was replaced back into the case, his own arms wrapping around her form, pressing her against him. He felt cold in the darkness, and wanted her near him.

"Do you want me to love you?" The question surprised him, and before Daimion could respond, his arms had quickly enveloped her, almost crushing her against his chest. A hand had gently tilted her head back, whereupon he pressed his own lips to hers. "Yes."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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Edzard Killian

'Being dragged by someone else... is not fun at all' Edzard concluded with a groan as he was dropped on the floor with a loud 'thump', his head hit the cold stone and he laid there, massaging his sore head and back. His visit had not gone as well as he had expected and the moment the colossus appeared, the demon knew he should have just waited for an invitation. However, what was done, is done and there was no way he could go back to change things. Giving his rival a sneer, Edzard rolled to a side, prepared to dodge the massive whip of the huge creature in front of him... only to be held forcefully and teleported to this who-knows-where place by Suyag the Vampire King.

Giving another groan, Edzard pushed himself back up. His eyes had lost his sparkles as he observed the scene in front of him. Daimion was giving other people's gifts. 'Most likely to weasel his way into others' hearts' Edzard thought with another distasteful sigh. Refusing to take a seat, the demon let his eyes wander around the room, taking in every single detail he could see and some others that he couldn't see. A worried glint made its way into his ruby-like eyes as Zarya stood up. She seemed a little shaken. Perhaps she was going to have a vision soon. What should he do? Should he chase after her? Edzard didn't want to pity anyone, even if that someone was Zarya. Pity did not help anyone. Pity did not help him when he was burnt alive after all. Edzard was sure Zarya did not want his pity. She was strong and that was why he had loved her.

Taking a step forward when the Witch disappeared, Edzard bit his lips and forced himself to look away. That damned Warlock won this time. Next time, he would win this fight. Clenching his teeth, Edzard forced himself to pay attention to the words the Vampire King was speaking, the words and sentences kept escaping him as he remembered Zarya and her pain-filled expression. He had been there when she had one of her vision and truth to be told, it scared him than he dared to admit. She had to go through this thing every once in a while? Zarya was truly a very, very strong woman.

"... Edzard, and Zarya will join me for this war. In return I will grant you whatever you shall desire. As for you Edzard, I have promised Europe in return as well as two trillion Euros to rebuild. The humans will know and fear us as they will realize that losing the war is inevitable. So what is it?"

Hmm? What was Suyag talking about? Oh, right, the war. Alliance. Taking another step forward, Edzard leaned against the table and tapped it patiently, deep in thoughts. An alliance with the vampires...Would it help his kind? Demons were not greatly appreciated, Edzard knew. Unlike vampires, even in today's legends, were called beautiful yet deadly creatures. 'and they do not sparkle' the demon thought with a quiet snicker. However, on the other hand, demons were feared and despised among people. They were called the evillest creatures, they were cursed and spitted upon. If the Vampire King was to win this war and the supernatural really were revealed, what would happen to his kind?

Would they be destroyed? Or would they be worshiped? Would they be ignored in the way that humans liked to ignore things that they did not want to see or to believe it was real? Edzard was not naive... not anymore. Wars were cruel and wars were harsh. There would be deaths and there would be pain and suffering. However, if he agreed, he could have Europe but only if the Vampire won this gamble. What guaranteed that he would win? Was his force this strong? And if so, why did Suyag need his help in the first place? Actually, if Suyag thought he could win against the world, he wouldn't even need anyone's help. But then again, if he agreed to form an alliance, how many percents of winning would Suyag have? Was it safe to do this? How would his Lord - Lord Manacia think of this act? Would he consider this an act of betrayal? Edzard pursed his lips, another question kept popping in his mind. Would the Vampire King really do what he promised? Or would he betray the demon kind?

Drumming his fingers on the table, Edzard frowned. He would need time for this. The benefits of his kind had to be first before his own selfish desire. The demon cleared his throat and spoke clearly but slowly, all trace of playfulness vanished in his blood red eyes. All that left was the Major General that was both manipulative and cruel. "You have stated a very intriguing offer, Suyag Deaslamoaned the Vampire King. However, even though I wish I could give you a quick decision, at last, I cannot. I acknowledge this proposition and I shall give you my answer in a day."

Tucking a lock of white hair back behind his ears, Edzard shifted his gaze and looked at Daimion the Warlock who was now in another form seriously. To be perfectly honest, Edzard did not care much which form the other was in, dragon or warlock, the creature in front of him was still his rival through and through. They may not be rivals in their ideals and loyalty to their Lord. However, it would be a day when Hell froze over and over again that Edzard admitted that Daimion had won Zarya's love. His posture was stiff and uncharacteristically serious as he opened his mouth to speak, his chest tightened with a phantom pain when he looked at Zarya. He would hold back for now. She was still hurting because of her vision and like he had said, Edzard would not shelter her like she was some kind of glass. No, the demon respected her and loved her because of her strength and it would forever remain this way "Would you mind sending someone to escort me out of this place, Daimion Shadowsoul? I have a lot to think about right now"

Ignoring the sound of his heart shattered when his sharp ears picked up the words from Zarya "Do you want me to love you?" How he would trade anything for her to speak those words to him. Closing his eyes when the Warlock pressed a firm kiss into his love's soft lips, Edzard looked away and decided to target Suyag so that he would not have to notice the sickening display of affection. "One last piece of advice, Blood God... and this advice is for free... Your arrogance will be your downfall..." Chuckling at the irony of his own sentence, Edzard smirked 'Hah, and like I should be the one to tell him that' Shrugging his shoulder, Edzard gave a soft whisper, hoping that Zarya would hear him "Come to my awesome place tonight if you can, please?" Stuffing his hands into his pocket, Edzard waited for Daimion to call someone to escort him out. He was not going to be dragged again.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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#, as written by Layla
Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii


"Yes," he whispered against her lips. Zarya returned the kiss, allowing herself some time to gather her thoughts. Well, it was easier said than done. What did two do when they were in love? Feed pigeons on park benches? Bring one another bouquets of Forget-Me-Nots? Declare their undying love before a religious altar? Despite common belief of Witches being nasty, evil things - many of them continued to practice the worship of the God and Goddess. Zarya was not one of them, mostly, as technology and her own power had long replaced her reliance upon "higher beings." But still, she drew upon the silver and liquid gold that flooded from the skies, cloaked in Magic the humans could not see, and asked for guidance.

She did not think she could love Daimion, or anyone else but herself for that matter. She was incapable of such human emotions. No, Witches loved. She was merely handicapped in weakness - yes, that was it. But it mattered not what she truly felt, as long as she appeared to be in love. I love Daimion, I love Daimion, she reminded herself. She'd observed the actions of others and their downfalls for nearly a century. Love was a strange thing - capable of ruining the mightiest of warriors and raising the weakest of servants. She'd admit it was rather intriguing and it would be well worth it to conduct some personal research. What harm could love do to one such as herself, anyway?

"I l-" she began.

"Come to my awesome place tonight if you can, please?" asked a voice, close to her ear. Zarya could not help but smirk, which made her head hurt and in turn, reminded her of her vision. If she was to die, she would do all that she wished without care for consequence. Who knew, perhaps she'd soon drink from the fountain of immortality and stay young for eternity. Perhaps, her vision of death at an age no older than what she was at the present, would actually be several millenniums into the future. Witches aged slowly and her Fae blood made her age even slower - but not immortal. But she was sure men of power like Edzard and Daimion could create for her a body of eternal youth. Zarya smiled, however strained in was. Yes, she would be optimistic and convince herself life was not quite so marvellous. She did not want to live quite so desperately, she told herself. There was no use in fearing the inevitable.

Zarya struggled not to think of her accursed visions as a useless form of torture.

Turning rather abruptly from both Demon and Warlock, the Witch walked briskly to the dimly lit dining table. She sat upon the chair of jewelled white and watched Suyag closely. Her eyes had been known to drown souls and pour lust but she cared not for drowning Suyag in her - yet. She was much more interested in the snippets of conversation she'd heard.

"You wish to reveal our existence to the world?" she asked, resting her head delicately upon her fist. She stared into the Blood King's eyes as if doing so would give her the key to his mind. "There are billions of them and very few of us," she stated nonchalantly. She would thread carefully - the Vampire was not one she wished to provoke and she would do well in staying far from his list of enemies. The Witches respected her and she in turn, watched over them. Witches were not all cruel and some, despite their capacity for power, would not bring harm so quickly upon one of their "own," a category in which Vampires fell under. The Bloodsuckers, on the other hand, would tear their soft throats in a heartbeat.

"They will not take well to our known presence," she said, choosing each word with care. "Some of your Vampires, my Witches, Daimion's Warlocks, Edzard's Demons and Blaidd's Werewolves have human lives. They," she paused. "Empathise with some humans." Zarya lifted her head and subtly ran her fingers over Aozora as she placed her open palms on the table - I am harmless as I am weak. See only my pretty face and the body I offer you. I am unarmed and of no threat to you. I am easily manipulated and as foolish as a woman can be, she thought repeatedly. Zarya felt for the locked power she kept within her core, the power she'd trapped to avoid detection; her weak appearance served her well.

Smiling lazily - ditzy, sensual, foolish - Zarya released more of her Gancanagh toxins, pouring their addictive tastes into her skin. "Suyag," she purred, trailing her fingers over his cheek. Her body pulsed as her skin warmed, sending heated tingles through the Vampire's body. "Do you truly wish to wage war? You will tire of such games. You do not want war - not when you can spend your efforts on other activities," she whispered, keeping her sultry gaze upon the Vampire. The walls pressed against her skull, making her head spin with what was now becoming a migraine. She kept her pain bound in chains as the tragedies of Suyag's life threatened to shove her defences aside to flood into her consciousness. Her limbs remained relaxed, her smile lazy and her eyes drowsy with affection. "Are you not thirsty, my dear?" she asked, tilting her head to expose her ivory skin and the veins that pulsed within.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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They were all against their destinies, with the exception of Blaidd but he was hired. The humans were parasites let loose upon the world, parasites that spread like wildfire that threatened to only consume. His only option left, his last choice of an ally, was Lord Manacia. Undead armies could turn the tide of a war greatly being that they do not have type of need. The war would most likely take a year to set up. Alliances needed to be broken, religions had to go to war, and economic depressions needed to come to full effect before the war started. This was merely planning for an eventuality.

Zarya now offered her blood to Suyag, claiming that he did not truley wish for bloodshed. How could he not with all that they did? With every passing moment her skin smelled even more irresistable. As he leaned in closer to bite his large fangs in to her neck he thought deeply of what was going on. If he did this his drive for war would be gone. Then he thought of Güzela. He thought of how she died, how the humans killed her when Suyag was weak and helpless. His anger rose and he swiftly retreated from Zarya's neck before he sank he fangs in. "War is all I know." With that he walked away into the shadows, disapearing into the darkness.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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The lingering touch of the witch was upon Daimion for only the briefest of moments after their kiss, making him body yearn for more. She had stepped back to speak words that would more than likely set his mind ablaze, but as he watched, she hesitated when the demon spoke out with his own invitation, "Come to my awesome place tonight if you can, please?" His eyes narrowed at the words, then, and a low growl emanated from deep within his throat. The giant was not known for his jealousy, as it was a trivial human emotion that caused only inconveniences on his part, but he was, however, known for his terrible wrath for when things go wrong. Before anyone can see his wrath, or rather, those still breathing and have yet to witness such events, normally find themselves alone without the immense presence of himself. It is because he does not enjoy his human emotions, as they tend to get in the way of progress.

The nails on his right hand became like silvered claws, and grew to nearly ten centimetres long. They glistened in the failing candle light, practically crying out for blood, any blood, so long as it was red and warm. "<Soon,>" he promised their voices, calming them down to a slight hum, "<Blood will flow soon.>" Upon peering towards the trio before him, he had noticed Zarya speaking of the war Suyag had wanted, throwing her counter argument into his face, practically demeaning him in front of everyone. A grim smile creased his face, then, which only grew when the serpent within him snickered at the sight. 'Oh how the mighty have fallen,' it only laughed harder when the giant agreed. Darkened shadows rose up around his neck, suddenly, as he remembered that the choker was exposed to the world. The wrapped themselves around it, and the gem, shielding the light from the world.

A small sigh of relief escaped his lips, when he held up his clawed hand in front of him to see if the glow reverberated off of it. No light appeared, and he was grateful, but upon looking up, he noticed the witch offering her neck, her life blood, to the vampire. His eyes grew dark, then, darker than before. Even his own aura became darker than pitch, pulsing as though it had its own heart. He could feel his own skin tearing once more at the thought of the vampire's venom infecting her system, and readied his own magicks that would combat the deadly venom, causing it to become inert within her system. The bite never came, however, and the magick fled from him, causing his body to slump against the chair. He was exhausted, but had a few more items to address before he could rest fully. A hatred had begun to blossom beneath his chest, then, and it confused him greatly. He did not care for the vampire, nor his dealings in the human world, but what he had done this evening angered him greatly, and he would deal with the creature eventually. For now, however, there was the matter of the demon to attend to.

"Edzard," Daimion called out to the demon, "walk through the portal behind you," a single claw pointed at the opened door, revealing magicks of the most profane. "Simply step through, think of a place you wish to be, and begone from my presence until you are given an invitation into my facilities." He was still angry about the intrusion he had caused earlier that day, and would not forget it anytime soon. The arrogant creature before him disgusted the warlock, of which he would have been gladdened to exterminate, if it weren't for the fact that his lord had forbidden him from even trying. "I will be at Site Beta if you have need of me, Zarya," he said suddenly, extending a small strand of energy toward here, asking her to read the archaic lettering's before her. Any other person, beyond those who were like themselves, would only gain a large enough headache that would cause their eyes to blur. Ultimately, the being that tried to read the strand, when it was not intended to be read by them, would find that it could not be read.

The words on the strand spoke softly to her, then, saying, "The Nevada Desert," before erupting into a black flame, vanishing completely. The warlock stood up, then, and walked towards the shadows behind him. "I shall meet you there, then," he called, allowing the inky blackness to cover his form completely. Words, then, erupted all around the two, and nowhere at the same time. It vibrated between a soft growl and a loud booming call, and as it did so, the air within the room began to swirl, as a vortex appeared in the center of the room, absorbing the shadows until nothing was left except for themselves, the table, chairs, doorway, and the now cold food upon the table.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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#, as written by Layla
"I will join you," she said hastily, a millisecond too quick. Suyag had melted into the shadows and she only prayed he heard her. Running her fingers through her hair, Zarya pressed her teeth into her lower lip, splitting the soft skin to allow blood to trickle onto her tongue. Her blood did not taste like blood - being not quite ordinary blood. It flowed like warm honey and tasted like it, too, with saccharine vanilla undertones and a bittersweet aftertaste; smelling faintly of sugared roses and jasmines. Glaring profusely at the darkness, Zarya reached for her iMind with a single thought. Message Suyag Deaslamoaned. Her eyes melted into silver as a network of imperceptible wires glowed in its depths, scrolling through a multitude of complex coding to reach Suyag. She did not believe his head was a literal computer or that he had an entire operating system downloaded into his brain matter but surely, he at least had one of those old-fashioend phones.

"Suyag, the Nobility must stand together. You are right - humans are but tiresome cockroaches: unseemly, monstrous and repulsive. My people are burnt at stakes, skinned, held captive, deprived, abused, humiliated and worse. Humans do not deserve to hold such prominence over the world. Survival of the fittest, as they say, and we are indomitable. Our power is greater and the world is rightfully ours. We must no longer cower in the shadows - it is their turn to run.

The Witches and Warlocks will stand by you. We will aid you in your efforts with our Magic and our connections with the world. Where Lord Manacia stands, we do. So if His Excellency agrees to this, we will undoubtedly stand behind you both. It is difficult in our world to find loyalty but, Suyag, I do hope you will trust me as I do you."


Zarya's fingers stilled upon her levitating keyboard of translucent light. Send. The silver of her eyes shrunk and her sultry blue irises returned as her pupils expanded, the ring of silver encircling them. It would be wise of her to join, to stay in Lord Manacia and Suyag's good graces and to be kept in the light. She'd never been a lover of mystery or suspense - perhaps, in that respect, her ability to see the future was beneficial - and did not long to be anywhere near it. She did not want to guess and anticipate the moves of those who would join the side of the Vampire. It would be easier, if not more dangerous, for her to stand by the Nobility. She had her people to protect - and Heavens knew if Suyag's Vampires would attack her Witches and Warlocks. As they say, "You are either with us, or against us."

"I will be at Site Beta if you have need of me, Zarya," Daimion said. Zarya's eyelids fluttered shut, open, shut and open with an unnerving slowness. Words drifted from her Warlock to spin around her head, the letterings warping and ever-changing. "The Nevada Desert," they whispered so only she could hear, before bursting into emptiness. Zarya tiled her head to the side, watching the giant as the world swirled around them.

When they came to a standstill, Zarya curtsied respectfully before Daimion. It was unusual and utterly uncharacteristic - as she normally kissed him farewell. But her mind was much too preoccupied with other thoughts regarding the war, her plans and her vision of her death. Besides, she felt she needed to limit her lying, if possible. What did he kisses mean? They'd always been the equivalent of handshakes to her. Alright, they felt a lot better but they'd never meant anything. Did Daimion mean anything more than just another of her steps on her staircase to the top? Smiling sadly, Zarya placed her small hand over Daimion's large one. "Take care," she whispered. Few knew the exact moments of their deaths and she did not know when her vision would manifest, only that it would. She wished her visions were like videos viewed on iMinds - with the date, time and place clearly written in the bottom right hand corner. Pausing, she touched his cheek with a gentle hand and said with meaning, "Thank you for everything you've done for me. You deserve happiness and I wish you well. I hope, one day, you may find someone worthy of your love."

Taking a step back from Daimion, she curled her fingers around her pendant. "Jyel," she breathed. Her body glowed silver, an invisible wind lifting her blonde hair. Her body of light shattered and reappeared in a grimy alleyway. Her teleportation skills were vague, to say the least. Message Edzard Killian, she commanded her iMind.

"Meet me by the ice-cream stand in the United States, Florida, Miami Beach," she messaged. Following her instructions was easier said than done, seeing as there were about a million ice-cream stands. She paid little attention to detail, unless it was absolutely required of her. Edzard would find her - she assumed he would. Message Ivann, she thought. Ivann - or Ivanov, her reluctant, personal Warlock assistant was the most trustworthy of all her people. Of course, he was her brother.

"It's time," she spoke aloud.

"Which 'It's time' is this and what time do you refer to? That time, this time or in time? Which of your many time's is it now and what time would you like for it to be time?" he mumbled. the background noise from his end suggesting a very busy schedule and really terrible two-handed driving skills. Zarya could almost see him roll his eyes.

"That time. This time. The time in which hams are canned," she explained.

"How many cans do you need?" he asked.

"Plastic cans. Not metal. Five thousand."

"You're kidding."

"Nope," Zarya replied, popping her P.

"Why?" he asked.

"I am vegetarian," she said, as if that explained the meaning of life.

"Exactly. You're vegetarian," Ivann said gruffly. "Watch it!" he yelled, the screech of his glider evident in the background.

"Yes, but some people like ham and if ham does not exist, what will I can?"

"Other things. Fruits, tuna, corn."

"Yes, but a can of ham can never be replaced. Besides, I like ham costumes," she said. Zarya strolled to a railing that overlooked crashing waves. Pressing her palms onto the warm metal, she pulled herself onto the horizontal pole. Ah, what a comfy seat - Zarya, you genius. At least it was right next to an ice-cream stand.

"You want to save the ham," Ivann said slowly. "Don't make me shoot you!" he yelled, pounding the horn on his steering wheel.

"Yes," Zarya said.

"Your factory could crumble. You could be ground into Zarya meat," he reasoned.

"Lucky for them, I've been told I taste amazing," she replied.

"You're being an idiot," Ivann said before disconnecting the call. Zarya rolled her eyes, her brother could be so melodramatic at times. Swinging her legs over the flimsy ledge, Zarya squinted at the sunlight. Salespeople ushered about, offering samples; children giggled and couples proclaimed their undying love for one another. It was a symphony of human life and for the first time, Zarya found herself wishing to be a part of their music.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Daimion "Th'Drago" Shadowsoul Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Naja Nato DeLotus Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii Character Portrait: Edzard Killian
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#, as written by Layla
Here's the thing about Dragons: I know absolutely nothing whatsoever about them, the Queen mused, braiding her long hair of spun gold. Zarya raised a delicate brow, staring pointedly at the ferocious beast who smelled of brimstone and strangely enough, unicorns. Then again, unicorns smelled terrible, the wretched things. She'd entered her study, expecting to find racoons nestling in her books and potions, only to find this giant creature pressing its abnormally large head against her ceiling. "You are not a racoon," she said slowly.

"Nay, child. I am no wee beast," it spoke. It spoke. Well, of course it did, Zarya. What kind of self-respecting, paper-sniffing, trashcan-smelling mythical Dragon does not talk? Perhaps, more shocking than that, it had called her a child. She was not a child by any means. Not if her breasts and hips had anything to say about it.

"I am one hundred and twenty two years old," she explained curtly. The Dragon roared in short bursts - a Dragon's version of laughter, she supposed. Close enough. Settling its amusement, the Dragon looked deeply into Zarya's eyes of ocean blue, as if searching for the answers to the mysteries of the universe. And the meaning of life is: 42. It's silver scales rippled as it flexed its bulging muscles, huffing its large nostrils at the Witch. Zarya pursed her lips - she was not amused.

"Are you going to eat me?" she asked, settling for frankness.

"Is that your desire?"

"Not really, no. The Witch's Formal is coming up, and it's not going to plan itself, so this is a rather bad time for me. Can we reschedule?" Zarya took a step back, her boots sinking into the lush red carpeting of her office. She really did not wish to run in her new boots - they were really, really nice boots. Heavens, was that a fleck of dust on her babies' polished surface of ultimate beauty? Well, at least if she died today, she'd die wearing the sexiest boots in the world. She could live with that.

"There you are," a raspy voice filled with testosterone boomed. Zarya turned to watch her brother stroll into the room. Why, of course her soulless Faery brother would know the creepy white Dragon. Smoke trickled from Ivann's parted lips and Zarya found herself wondering, as per usual, why the Faery bothered to smoke when human substances like nicotine left him unaffected. Ivann dropped to one knee before Zarya, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand as he stubbed his burning cigarette in Zarya's Persian rug.

"It's called an ash tray," the Witch said gruffly.

"It's called Magic," Ivann replied with a shrug. With a snap of his fingers, the crumpled cigarette disappeared, leaving her floor ash and burn-free. He stood, ruffling his sister's hair, to her disdain. Ivann's part sister was obnoxious, narcissistic and infuriating but, admittedly, adorable; but he'd take his life before he ever called her "cute." She'd skin him alive and feed his body parts to her hounds. The Gancanagh turned to the Dragon, bowing his head respectfully. "Thank you for responding to our requests, General Loganach," he said.

"'tis not a problem, Ivann. Yer can drop de formalities, auld mucker." An Irish Dragon. Charming. General Loganach extended his left wing to pat Ivann on the back.

"Watch the-!" Zarya began, gawking as her ancient potions crashed to the floor, setting parts of her carpet aflame as it burnt holes through the wooden floor beneath, causing black smoke to rise into the ceiling. Those potions had taken her decades to find and fortunes and lives to obtain, yet they'd been so carelessly destroyed. Ah well, at least her boots were safe. Priorities, priorities.

"This is my sister, Lady Zarya Anzhelovna Liza-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm forgettin' 'er name as yer sayin' it. I 'av no patience for long Russian names such as these." General Loganach shivered, his bones rippling beneath his thick skin as he Transformed. The large figure shrunk into that of a grey-haired man dressed in blissful, ecstatic nothingness. Loganach rubbed his neck before stretching, his muscles bulging as he twisted his body about. Ivann watched Zarya watch Loganach, rolling his eyes and slipping his own shirt over his head to hand to the Dragon-human.

"I don't want to see you shirtless," Zarya complained, glaring at Ivanov. Well, at least Dragon-boy's not wearing any pants. Hey, she had a healthy appreciation for the male anatomy. As if reading her mind, Ivann pulled a pair of jeans from seemingly nowhere and handed it to the now transformed beast. Zarya growled a threat, before watching Loganach slip on his human clothes. Yes, she could get used to this. "You really must introduce me to more of these friends of yours, brother." In reply, Ivann snorted.

"What is wrong with these human curtains?" Loganoch asked with annoyance, struggling to wear the jeans over his head. Apparently his human form favoured the British accent, rather than Irish.

"Would you like some help?" Zarya purred in her thick Russian-English.

"No, he wouldn't," Ivann replied for him. God, she hated that guy. "They go over your legs, Logan."

"Ah, I see." Logan pulled the jeans over his lovely, flawless, muscled legs and wonderful, a- No, why was he clothed? Oh cruel was the world to hide such beauty. "Zari? Zoro? Zara? Zarya? Zay? Zargo?" Baby, you can call me anything.

"Zarya," Ivann stated before nudging his sister none too gently. Zarya narrowed her blue eyes at him before turning her sultry gaze to full blast, drowning Logan in her gaze.

"Zarrrrya," she purred.

Logan looked at her incredulously, then, rubbing his eyes, said, "I need my glasses." Of course, of course the Dragon had a vision impairment. Ivann pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket and handed them to the tall, grey-haired man without a word. "Thank you, lad," Logan said, slipping on the spectacles. Did he not realise modern technology had long surpassed spectacles? One could have cameras implanted beneath their corneas if they so wished.

"General Loganach of the Fifth Ard, at your service, milady," the Dragon said, saluting towards the sky as some Dragons did.

"Oh, right now?" Zarya asked, reaching for the glowing blue circle that undid her entire dress. Ivann slapped her hand away.

"He's your new bodyguard, Zar."

"I don't need a-" He was really, really good looking. "It appears I have a sudden need for protection due to the immense growth in danger."

"I will protect you with my life, Lady Zarya," Logan said seriously. "My life is your brothers, for I owe my continuing existence to his bravery." Of course.

Two months ago, she'd met with Edzard by an ice-cream stand - which he'd found surprisingly quickly. She'd asked him if he'd planned to join Suyag in his war against humanity, to which he'd simply said "Yes." Zarya had replied with a vague "Okay," before disappearing to some ungodly, underground fighting ring. She'd been doing nothing but gathering people and information for the past two months, as well as spreading them about to wherever she saw fit. She'd spent unladylike amounts of time in drug-induced trances and in the beds of countless men and women. She'd not spoken to Daimion or Edzard in the past two months, although she'd sent "messengers" to stalk them "for their own protection." It was all a load of unicorn fur, and she knew, they knew it for what it was. She did not wish to confront Daimion on his feelings, nor did she wish to know of Edzard's. At least, that's what she tried to distract herself with. She'd spoken to Lord Manacia and Suyag a handful of times - mostly to report on the progress of her Witches and Warlocks and to sing, "Praise the Nobility!" Only one politician had killed himself out of desperation for her touch in the past two months. It was an improvement from a dozen a week. She'd been "busy," and no one could argue that she was not doing her job. She bedded and manipulated - it was in her job description.

No, really, it was.

The Mystics had been causing quite a bit of trouble for the Nobility - she did not mind. "It's fun," she'd explained when asked what she thought of the destruction of her "plans." Zarya was lighthearted, perhaps too much so and besides, she liked Naja the Creeper. An old man who could read minds - who didn't want that? She hoped to meet him in person one day, and meet him she would. In fact, she might materialise in his shower, dressed as a potato.

Because that would definitely get him going.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii
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#, as written by Layla
"What is this?" Logan asked incredulously, staring at the wall with a knob. He poked at the gap between the wall and its frame, attempting to wiggle it from its hinges. It was such a strange contraption.

"It's a door, Logan," Ivann explained patiently.

Zarya laughed. "Haha, oh Heavens, oh God, stop it," she breathed, grasping her abdomen as she doubled over in fits of laughter.

"I don't understand," Logan said, his brows furrowing in puzzlement.

"It's a door. You open it." To demonstrate, Logan walked over and turned the sphere-shaped knob - the wall opened. The Shifter jumped back in surprise, bending his limbs in preparation for an attack. "You just turn this," Ivann explained, closing the door and turning the handle again. "And it opens," he said, pulling the door open once again.

"What is this Magic and who is its abominable Sorceress?" The grey-haired man took a cautious step back, fully expecting the "door" to implode.

"This crazy thing called wood and this ferocious creature called a carpenter," Zarya said in between laughs. Ivann narrowed his eyes, throwing her a warning glance which she dismissed with a well-practiced cackle. "I have to show Manic-Manny this. He'll flip!"

"You will do no such thing. Logan is a respected General, not a new toy of your distasteful collection," Ivann said sternly. Unlike himself, his sister used her powers carelessly, seducing and manipulating for her own entertainment. She held none of the responsibilities he did as the Dark Queen's right wing Fae. Her lack of registered citizenship meant that the rules of the Fae world and its creatures did not apply to her. She was ultimately the most reckless, immature and dangerous Gancanagh in history and admittedly, also the cutest. Zarya was horrible, selfish, unthinking and childish but she was just so cute. As if to emphasise his thoughts, Zarya popped a lollipop into her mouth - the useless things she used her Magic for - and curled her crimson lips into a kitten-like smile. If Ivann had a spoon, he would just eat her.

"Let's go!" Zarya announced cheerfully, bouncing on her feet as she pulled a crystal sphere from her shelf. She shook it furiously, thinking of Lord Manacia's sulking figure as she did. In a nauseating blur, they appeared before Lord Manacia's imposing fortress. The building gleamed dangerously as it towered over the three figures at the foot of it. Logan pursed his lips, staring at the tall monstrosity. It was impossible difficult to resist the urge to Transform into a Dragon and curl his large body around the castle spire.

Zarya tapped her lower lip as she stared at the heavy wooden doors - "How will we enter?"

"It's called a door," Ivann said as he reached forward to nudge the doors open. Of course, why would Lord Manacia require a lock? Not only was his fortress in the middle of nowhere, it was also horrifically frightening with its clouds of inky darkness and aura of pure evil. There were only two sorts of creatures who would enter his domain: those that were unfathomably powerful, those who were idiots or those who wished to die in the worst possible way. Okay, that was three. It was not her fault if she was no good with numbers - only engineers knew how to add two and one. What did that even make? Twenty-one?

Slipping past her brother to enter the dark fortress, Zarya skipped cheerfully through the gloomy halls.

"Why is she so cheerful?" Logan whispered to Ivann.

"She has boobs," Ivann said and Logan nodded as if that explained everything. Honestly, the humans were tainting Ivann's pure Fae tongue with strange words such as "boobs" and "Yoda." Wait, they meant the same thing, right?

"Manny!!!" Zarya sing-songed, twirling as she burst into the room which contained the leader of the Nobility. She'd never been the most formal but this was an entirely new level of obnoxiously happy, even for her. "Look what I fou-" The Witch caught sight of the addition of another dark creature who did not look like an imp, no siree. "-ound..." she trailed off.

Well, this was awkward.

Zarya gawked at the hooden creature that oozed power - lord, what was wrong with his fashion sense? It appeared Lord Manacia had also acquired a new freakishly frightening - although strangely arousing - form. Although, she would've gone for a more forest green rather than limestone green, it simply did not do his undead bone parlour any favours. As Zarya scrutinised the two creatures' fashion choices, Ivann studied the creature who was not Manacia carefully. His power was rather electric and distracting and Ivann found himself distrusting him immediately. The Fae cared not for human authority or the politics of their paranormal worlds - the Dark Order mattered not to him as they mattered not to his Queen. But he could sense a formidable opponent when he was near one and this dark creature was not a mere page boy. Manacia's body language further proved this; it was quite possible that the cloaked stranger was of higher rank than even the leader of the Nobility. Ivann inclined his head a fraction of a centimetre, as close to anything a Fae of his rank would do to acknowledge the presence of someone of power. It was the equivalent of a respectful handshake in the Fae realms.

Meanwhile, Logan was opening and closing, opening and closing, one of Manacia's doors. These contraptions were so strange.

"What are those dreadful shoes?" Zarya asked in the end, settling for what mattered most: this creature's change of wardrobe. His cloak alone was at least a millennium out of fashion. "You are in desperate need of a trim, oddly attractive, although horrifically unfashionable Mermaid."

Ivann stared past the far right hand corner of the room so his eyes would have something to do as his mind wandered to more interesting topics as he said, "He's a High Elder."

"Well, damn." Zarya assessed the figure before her with new eyes - suddenly, his shoes looked so much more fitting. Isn't this wonderfully awkward? The Witch of the Nobility wondered what she was to do before curtsying demurely. Well, as demurely as a few strips of cloth for a dress could be. She moved her slim legs in a way that drew one's attention to her immensely classy boots. For the second time that day, Zarya wondered if she was going to die and decided she death dressed the way she was would not be so bad, after all. They were a fantastic pair of boots.

"Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii, Witch of the Nobility, at your bed- on your bed- in your bed- I mean, nowhere near it," she corrected hastily. Ivann rolled his eyes, internally smacking his head against the wall.

"She means 'at your service,'" Ivann said.

"No, I don-" Zarya began before cutting herself off when Ivann hovered his foot over her pristine boots. "You wouldn't!" she gasped.

"Oh yes I would, young, inexperienced, abnormally female Gancanagh," the blonde man said, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow on his perfect face. God, she hated him.

"What is this?" asked Logan from a distance, pressing a button that switched off the lights of the room. "HELP! I'M BLIND!" he yelled frantically. Ivann sighed, turning the lights back on with a snap of his fingers. "It's called electricity, General Loganach," he explained as if he were speaking to a child. Not technically, he was. Logan nodded, satisfied, returning to the fascinating door he opened and closed repeatedly.

"So, well, I guess we're done here! Ha. Ha. Ha," Zarya laughed nervously, taking a step back from the High Elder. Perhaps he was a mind reader as Naja was rumoured to be - she did not wish to find out. Think sad thoughts and distract him with it, she told herself. Unicorns, unicorns, unicorns, she repeated, thinking of the horrible-smelling, terrible-looking, overly-happy monstrosities. "Well, it's late!" It was eight in the morning. "Guess we'd better get going. Pizza to devour, unicorns to assassinate, toads to talk to - all that jazz, you know? It's that time of the month where... Squirrels. Talk."

"But you said you were free the whole day," Logan added helpfully.

"Light travels faster than sound - that's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak," Zarya mumbled.

Haha, irony. God, she was funny.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii
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Angel turned when he felt the presence of another enter Manacia's estate.

"Hmm, I might as well sit here and wait then," Angel stated firmly as he stood and waited for the individuals to appear.

It annoyed him to no end when he saw the creature that entered into his vision. The sight of her disgusted him beyond belief. The clothes she wore let alone the way she carried herself made him more annoyed. He crossed his arms and watched her, listening to all she had to say, commenting on his looks and how he dressed. He looked at Manacia and shook his head.

"Is this how your subordinates act? No wonder you aren't getting anything done."

He turned to Zarya and walked slowly over to her, moving a strand of her hair from her face before his hand gripped her throat tightly.

"Witch, it would be wise not to anger me. There is a meeting to be held here," he said tightening his grip, "and if you are to be a part of this unorganized group of villains, you are going to stay put."

He tossed the female to the side and looked at her "brother" and the one who was clearly new to being "human".

"This just WILL NOT do. You all treat this as some sort of game and I will NOT tolerate insubordination. I am holding YOU accountable Alisarrian for this unruly behavior."

Angel glared at Manacia and sighed, "but then again I will punish them myself."

His eyes shot straight to Zarya, but he did not say a word as he felt the presence of another.

"You called and slowly they come. This surely will not do. My subordinates come without hesitation."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Suyag Deaslamoaned Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii
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#, as written by Layla
"Well, isn't he delightful?" Zarya mumbled, rubbing her sore neck. At least she'd not crashed into the wall - finally, those acrobatic classes had come to use. She smirked at Lord Manacia's counter-threat, then shook her head in disapproval. She much preferred keeping a low profile - well, not including modelling for Playboy Magazine - and allowing others to toss her around. Zarya is weak, Zarya is good. Zarya loves her masters as she should. Zarya is clever, Zarya is small. Zarya is nothing, nothing at all. Zarya is powerless, Zarya is dumb. Zarya's inferior and is too frail to harm. The Witch pulled her power deeper into her core, binding them with a thousand ropes of duct tape to keep them from escaping.

"WHERE IS THAT INSUFFERABLE WARLOCK?!" Lord Manacia boomed. Zarya bower her head, letting her blonde hair cascade over her shoulder to shield her smirk. Her glamour stayed firmly in place, rendering her iridescent wings of sunset-crimson non-existent, her golden hair a human blonde and her silver eyes like moonlit orbs, blue. Other Fae and some more powerful and gifted individuals would be able to see through her glamour. A Fae's true form was painfully dazzling, making those who were weaker wish to throw themselves at the Faerie's feet and beg for forgiveness. They were Gods in their own right and a terrible, terrible beauty.

Ivann leaned against a wall, his pitch black eyes flecked with silver like stars in a galaxy flicking over the High Elder's figure. He blinked slowly, familiarising himself with the creature's patterns of power and braiding them into what he already knew. Angel, that was the name it went by. He found the fight between Lord Manacia and Angel rather... Cute. He did not, however, find Angel's tossing of his sister cute in the least. For a brief spark of a moment, he'd considered winding strings of Winter around the creature, of pulling it taught and slicing the thing to pieces. It was a reckless thought and it did not obey logic - it appeared his sister was making him rather volatile and un-Fae-like.

More than anything, he disliked the way Angel had called her 'Witch.' It was deeply offensive and impossibly inaccurate. It was true, Zarya was only a quarter Fae but Fae blood was stronger than anything else, overruling most other lineage. He disliked the dirty creatures of this bleak Earth and he would sooner take Zarya to the Faerie realms and keep her there for an eternity but he'd promised to give her the choice. "It will make her more sympathetic to our kind," the Queen's advisor had said. Still, Zarya was no mere Witch - she was barely even Witch, although she did not yet know that. He'd get around to telling her she was more a quarter Witch than a quarter Gancanagh some day, some time... Probably never. Looking at her true form that glowed so radiantly beneath her disguise now, he knew with a certainty that she belonged to the Fae and their realms. She was a sunflower in a rose garden and a rift of light in the empty darkness of the Earth. Her glowing, sparkling blood that tasted of honey and smelled of vanilla and otherworldly flowers was further proof of that.

She did not belong here.

The Shapeshifter, Logan, had inched closer to Zarya after Angel's show of careless and unnecessary power. He now tucked Zarya behind him so her back was to the wall, as he watched Lord Manacia and the High Elder wearily. He sniffed the air, cringing at the bittersweet taste of Vampire. He was aware of whom the High Elder was and bowed respectfully, although he made no efforts to lower his head and disguise his distrust. He shielded Ivann's sister's body with his own, knowing he'd sooner die than allow her to be harmed again. He'd been so distracted by the accursed wall that was named a "door" that he'd not noticed the High Elder's growing violence of thought towards Zarya.

Meanwhile, the Witch was smirking, subtly appraising Logan's well-toned back and the muscles that rippled beneath his blissfully tight shirt as he moved. But, although he meant well and his back was easy on the eyes, he was also significantly tall and he was blocking Zarya's view of Lord Manacia and the creepy High Elder - the Creep, that would be his name. Zarya stepped a little to the side, so Logan's body only shielded a part of hers. Honestly, the Creep treated his "subordinates" as if they were mere cattle. She was much too shapely and attractive to be a cow. She was more of an adorable kitten.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Alisarrian "Lord Manacia" Timura Character Portrait: Zarya Anzhelovna Lizavetskii
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Angel looked at the towering Manacia and simply shrugged.

"Suit yourself, I'm merely a messenger, and you will do well to remember that. Just as quickly as you were placed in this position can it be taken away from you and you be ripped asunder and reaped. Your idle threats mean nothing to me Manacia, but I have grown tired of talking to you. Summon the rest of your pathetic underlings immediately. The Dark Order wishes to know what they plan to do to assist you in your 'great' conquest."

Angel sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked over at the girl who called herself the Nobility Witch. Such insubordination would be punished and Angel would see to it. He could not attack them full outright, but he would have to get permission from the Dark Order to take steps of punishment. There were certain laws that they had to follow and Angel was not above them, though he enjoyed twisting them to his benefit. He smirked at Alisarrian and simply walked over to the head of the U shaped table.

"Your subordinates really do need more training Manacia. I'm just saying...."

Angel winked playfully at Manacia while waiting for the others to arrive.