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| [P] The Graye Ball; Private; Cian | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sun May 8, 2011 4:02 pm (753 Views) | |
| Cian Uld | Sat May 21, 2011 5:17 am Post #16 |
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What she wanted from him was actually somewhat enticing, the aged gambler not being a fan of dirtying his own hands. He wasn't accustomed to battle, it wasn't even remotely something he liked to do. It was dirty, unnecessary, and it clouded ones mind. He winced at her tone when she said dolls, however, wondering how exactly that would come around to bite him in the near or far future. "Well I will admit not having to do anything excessively violent sways me a bit more." Though not enough to make him entirely comfortable with the decision, but he would keep that to himself. His eyes narrowed as he thought of how he did indeed push himself into where he was now, through sheer desperation over all else. He feared death more then anything, and he refused to take his step over the edge until he was content with what he had done in his life. And if he knew himself at all, he was well aware that wouldn't be anytime soon. He leaned forward, picking up the weapon and looking it over for a moment before pulling his sleeve back as far as he could now, revealing more ritualistic scars on his arm. Near his shoulder, the mark of a demon was burned as deep as it could be without pressing into his bones. He kept his eyes from the mark, shaking the thought away that there were many more similar marks across his body, marks that kept his soul bound into his body as long as it possibly could be. He made an art out of stubbornly clinging to himself. He slid the blade over the palm of his hand instead, not wanting to break a single mark that was on his arm, pressing his palm onto the orb on the table and letting his blood soak over it before lifting his hand. He closed his eyes, barely distinguishing the words that she spoke while angered as images flashed in front of his eyes, visions of rage and the torture of thousands of lives were he to continue down the path he was walking. Empty threats from a beast in a corner. "It is my nature to question things, y'see. If I didn't, I'd have died hundreds of years ago. To blindly accept a deal that sounds so good is often a way of walking ones-self into the pit." His eyes stopped their sinister glow now as he leaned back, pulling down his sleeve and wrapping a small handkerchief from his pocket around the palm of his hand. The feeling of pain that he should have felt was numbed, the stubborn witch having done awful things to that arm alone to ensure his rituals would be as pleasant as they could be. "Regardless, it is done. I am a bit interested in what you want with me now, in detail. I'm sure you have something in mind that could... prove my worth." He had a feeling he would need to continue to do that, as well. One didn't keep to the living world bound to something else without sacrifice, and he began to truly question if the option of this woman over the demon that held his soul before would really be an upgrade. With a chuckle-filled smile, he shook the idea away. There wasn't much point in worrying about it now, at any rate. |
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| Nicodemus | Sat May 21, 2011 4:41 pm Post #17 |
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Cassie nodded. “I understand.” And she did, to some extent. Still the idea of being questioned infuriated her, but she held a firm grip over her emotions, refusing to let them get away from her again. “And often it is, just another creature handing you a shovel. Lucky you, dear Cian. I’m throwing you a ladder.” Cassandra retrieved her blade as he finished with it, pinching it at the bottom and sliding up firmly. A light smear of blood remained. In her hand, the steel became ethereal, a light forming inside and growing outward. The blood remaining on the blade fizzled, dissipating and sinking into the sword. She let the steel return to its normal state, sheathing it. Cassie picked up the orb in both hands, watching as a new light formed. She touched on it, feeling a pull other than her own. Wrapping her will around the new soul, she formed a shell, locating the bond. Finding the concentrated spot, she released a burst of magic, necromantic energy tightly woven with healing, mixing the negative and positive aspects of life magic, command and banishing. The magic permeated the bond, eroding away at the spiritual control. She felt the struggles of the demon, sending images of punishment and pain. She disregarded the messages, walling them off. Soon enough the messages ceased altogether. She reached out a hand, which glowed with a faint aura. “I can remedy that, if you prefer.” Her tone was more inquisitive, curious how he would react to the offer for help. |
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| Cian Uld | Sun May 22, 2011 2:27 pm Post #18 |
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He smiled grimly at her comment of a ladder, wondering how large said ladder would prove to be. The pit he was in was endless, and for now he was quite sure the ladder wasn't a long one. He'd have to work long and hard to pull himself out of the pit, though he was quite sure if he wanted to keep up his life of living forever, he would never truly bring himself from within the pit. He ground his teeth as quietly as he could, anxiety beginning to well up within him. He always found himself questioning his insanity after he finished it, instead of before. Probably a personality trait that he should have tried to remedy hundreds of years ago instead of just letting it fly free. Wasn't much he could do now, however, beyond try and enjoy whatever would fall into his lap now. With a small smile, he looked towards the door and rose his brow. "I suppose you have a party you need to orchestrate, Lady Bristow. I have a feeling this is more then just a party, from the feeling I'm getting. What needs done?" He slid his chair back and stood up, picking up the mask that he had set upon the desk. He could feel excitement tingling in the tips of his fingers, a smile growing on his face. He was dis-comfortable with what he had just done until the deed itself was done, which was something of interest to him. He had a purpose beyond self-preservation again. His face curled curiously when she offered assistance, and he held out the palm he cut for the orb. It was something of a curiosity that he found amusing, if not extremely interesting. "Tryin' to keep face, or do you actually care for your pawns?" He grinned lightly, looking back towards the door again before placing the mask onto his forehead, waiting for an answer from her before covering his face with it. "Though I have a feelin' you aren't the type to try and keep face. Ownin' my soul means ya don't have to care whether I like ya or not." He raised his brow, watching the wound for a moment. His vision flashed away for a moment, to another memory of him holding another family member close. A cut was open on their throat, questions gurgling from their throat. he closed his eyes, trying to banish the memory once again. I'll miss ye mother. he heard his own voice echo in his head for a moment, a smile absently crossing his face. He wasn't lying, to be sure, though it wasn't the whole truth. He wondered if it was her, or the ritual itself he missed. He had to wonder how far his mind had fallen in the past nine and a half centuries. He chuckled to himself at the thought of it, probably looking quite insane to the woman he just offered his soul to. "Wish I could trade memories too, that'd make this the perfect deal..." He whispered low, but he had a feeling it was quiet enough to hear it. He could hear the party outside now that he was truly listening, wondering what would have happened to him tonight had he not approached the host and instead waited with the rest of the sheep. |
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| Nicodemus | Wed May 25, 2011 12:34 am Post #19 |
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“Your feelings guide you well. Much needs done; this is but the first step in many. I require allies. As many as I am able to garner in the time I have allotted myself.” She smiled genuinely. “And souls are oft in supply among those who care about them little.” Which was true enough. Nobility and corrupt figures were almost always game for anything to extend their lives beyond the normal parameters of their kind. They also made the most effective pawns. The woman took Cian’s hand gingerly, peeling away the handkerchief. “Ahh, you’ve gone and soiled a perfectly functional kerchief.[color]” Her hand glowed, concentrating itself as she stroked her thumb along the wound, sealing it behind each stroke. “There’s a wash bin in the next room over. If you would be so kind, I’d rather not have blood all over the furnishings. Or the guests.[color]” "Though I have a feelin' you aren't the type to try and keep face. Ownin' my soul means ya don't have to care whether I like ya or not." “Glad we both understand that, then.[color]” Despite her words, she couldn’t keep her lighthearted tone from staining the statement with friendliness. Watching the man as he thought to himself, Cassandra allowed him his privacy, keeping quiet and standing, approaching the mantel. She flicked her wrist towards the Graye. It blurred into motion, eagerly putting on its cloak and pulling the hood up, placing the mask on its face. Cassandra followed suit, pulling her hair back and tucking it away. The hood came up and she took up the mask, placing it against her face. [color] |
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8:23 AM Jul 11

