No god or demon shod in flesh of majesty could ever see half the sights my eyes have ‘seen’.
STATIONED: Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa
DESTINATION: Daiyu Okiya en-route to Private Military UAR Space Docks
SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: [UAR HSC or HCP Required]
Disturbed by the oscillations within the atmosphere, repulsive forces stirring within the incensed evening in translucent energy waves. Cylindrical x Phasmatodean in shape, sleek and black with opaque tinted bioalloy windows pulled up beside where Satrina stood beneath the pallid, shifting light hoovering half a meter to Satrina’s height. The anti-gravity lifters positioned beneath the body, steadily lowering the Silhouette XI-D towards the ground. Suspension sustained, position above-ground without making contact with the ground, the craft hung poignant, as if suspended by the thinnest of threads, or upon the palm of divinity’s hand. Noticing that the driver wore a uniform accustomed to the UAR, and who returned her look with a raised brow and a blank expression that deemed an, 'ask nothing’ approach. Not even daring to grace the form of the ‘Imperial Concubine’ with his admiring eyes-- opting to instead to focus forwards, gloved hands firmly gripping the wheel, whistling to himself as the left-hand side door rose with a subdued ‘hiss’.
Decompression sound and another uniformed officer appeared with a flabbergasted illustration clearly painted on the canvas of his clean shaven face that was instantly met with Satrina’s reflectionless stare that appeared to devour all light and life. "Ah... " faltering for a moment being unsure how or what to refer to her as. Stuttering for a second then finding articulate means to communicate while he was met with the rise of a slender ebony eyebrow and the sweeping motion of her hand suggesting silence was the better selected option. Sinisterly smirking, not applying the usual means to permit understanding of her native dialect, further from the immusical humanoid clatter and granting him and the driver the true sounds of the Insectoid/Arachnidan. High-pitched, shattering to the ear-drums akin to the tiny splinters of glass shards perforating inner devices to the scarlet ruptures of haemorrhage. Head tilting, to cause midnight tresses to tumble, a cold and callous frost filtering over Satrina’s countenance. Though lips did not move to offer a soothing and kind word, multiple sensory modes with the immunity to all ultrasound deterrents-- rose at first like the cruel desert winds, gradually escalating in multiple tones from the melodious to the cacophonous.
Increasing, causing the winds to shift to unfurled talons raking against the elements, jarringly... an unkindness of ravens blackening the sky in the fugue of their death-like shadows. Sauntering closer to the vehicle, lips widening to a malignant simper, pheromones in delicious sweetened deliriums. Stygian eyes fixed on the soldier who obviously didn't know how to address the immediate problem other than covering his ears while a dark ichor dripping between his fingers and dripped done the length of forearm. Ceasing the tortuous onomatopoeia then elegantly sliding swathed form across the leather upholstery, sumptuous in its luxury. The mind was guarded, less mundane things were permitted to float on the surface of the psychic pall; a comfortable less cluttered memory tugging on the emotions-- this was of formal duty and militant tasks of maintaining chaos through force, and from force, conquest. It was an interesting trick, somewhat a bit too human for her taste—to share a picture in the guise of an actual memory like a photograph and expect to exhume any sense of nostalgia or feeble sentiment, as oppose to something more exact and precise; always the games of predator to the confused rodent.
Thoughts interrupted by the smell of cigarette smoke and the fresh air through the open skylights. There was nothing quite like the pungent aroma’s of smoke and blood. This scented smoke that invoked silk-shrouded depths of anonymous opium’s... along with a poisoned consoling, and this meaningless susurrus of invested cajoling. The slow flush of fervid mist spread across the frontal lobes of intellect, blocking out the intrusions of hival chorale-- diluted rapture from lungs light as gossamer webs to the breadth and depth of tempting splendour. So drab this reality was, presented cheaply.... not even revivified in prismatic hues were the terrible scenes unfurling across a horizon gravid with lethal possibilities and endless screams. Reaching across adjacent, sensual form swept up and over the solider, left hand reaching to grace the landscapes of muscular chest only to furl around the packet of cigarettes. Extracting one with a swift pluck of wrist and refined hand, eyes never leaving the others glances. Dahlia-inflamed lips parting like the unfolding of angelic wings yet devils lurked, on the apex of silvered poisonous tongue and the cigarette which hung to the seductions of those lips ushered towards the glistening of his flame.
STATIONED: Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa
DESTINATION: Daiyu Okiya en-route to Private Military UAR Space Docks
SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: [UAR HSC or HCP Required]
Disturbed by the oscillations within the atmosphere, repulsive forces stirring within the incensed evening in translucent energy waves. Cylindrical x Phasmatodean in shape, sleek and black with opaque tinted bioalloy windows pulled up beside where Satrina stood beneath the pallid, shifting light hoovering half a meter to Satrina’s height. The anti-gravity lifters positioned beneath the body, steadily lowering the Silhouette XI-D towards the ground. Suspension sustained, position above-ground without making contact with the ground, the craft hung poignant, as if suspended by the thinnest of threads, or upon the palm of divinity’s hand. Noticing that the driver wore a uniform accustomed to the UAR, and who returned her look with a raised brow and a blank expression that deemed an, 'ask nothing’ approach. Not even daring to grace the form of the ‘Imperial Concubine’ with his admiring eyes-- opting to instead to focus forwards, gloved hands firmly gripping the wheel, whistling to himself as the left-hand side door rose with a subdued ‘hiss’.
Decompression sound and another uniformed officer appeared with a flabbergasted illustration clearly painted on the canvas of his clean shaven face that was instantly met with Satrina’s reflectionless stare that appeared to devour all light and life. "Ah... " faltering for a moment being unsure how or what to refer to her as. Stuttering for a second then finding articulate means to communicate while he was met with the rise of a slender ebony eyebrow and the sweeping motion of her hand suggesting silence was the better selected option. Sinisterly smirking, not applying the usual means to permit understanding of her native dialect, further from the immusical humanoid clatter and granting him and the driver the true sounds of the Insectoid/Arachnidan. High-pitched, shattering to the ear-drums akin to the tiny splinters of glass shards perforating inner devices to the scarlet ruptures of haemorrhage. Head tilting, to cause midnight tresses to tumble, a cold and callous frost filtering over Satrina’s countenance. Though lips did not move to offer a soothing and kind word, multiple sensory modes with the immunity to all ultrasound deterrents-- rose at first like the cruel desert winds, gradually escalating in multiple tones from the melodious to the cacophonous.
Increasing, causing the winds to shift to unfurled talons raking against the elements, jarringly... an unkindness of ravens blackening the sky in the fugue of their death-like shadows. Sauntering closer to the vehicle, lips widening to a malignant simper, pheromones in delicious sweetened deliriums. Stygian eyes fixed on the soldier who obviously didn't know how to address the immediate problem other than covering his ears while a dark ichor dripping between his fingers and dripped done the length of forearm. Ceasing the tortuous onomatopoeia then elegantly sliding swathed form across the leather upholstery, sumptuous in its luxury. The mind was guarded, less mundane things were permitted to float on the surface of the psychic pall; a comfortable less cluttered memory tugging on the emotions-- this was of formal duty and militant tasks of maintaining chaos through force, and from force, conquest. It was an interesting trick, somewhat a bit too human for her taste—to share a picture in the guise of an actual memory like a photograph and expect to exhume any sense of nostalgia or feeble sentiment, as oppose to something more exact and precise; always the games of predator to the confused rodent.
Thoughts interrupted by the smell of cigarette smoke and the fresh air through the open skylights. There was nothing quite like the pungent aroma’s of smoke and blood. This scented smoke that invoked silk-shrouded depths of anonymous opium’s... along with a poisoned consoling, and this meaningless susurrus of invested cajoling. The slow flush of fervid mist spread across the frontal lobes of intellect, blocking out the intrusions of hival chorale-- diluted rapture from lungs light as gossamer webs to the breadth and depth of tempting splendour. So drab this reality was, presented cheaply.... not even revivified in prismatic hues were the terrible scenes unfurling across a horizon gravid with lethal possibilities and endless screams. Reaching across adjacent, sensual form swept up and over the solider, left hand reaching to grace the landscapes of muscular chest only to furl around the packet of cigarettes. Extracting one with a swift pluck of wrist and refined hand, eyes never leaving the others glances. Dahlia-inflamed lips parting like the unfolding of angelic wings yet devils lurked, on the apex of silvered poisonous tongue and the cigarette which hung to the seductions of those lips ushered towards the glistening of his flame.
Using simple observation, absorption of information and the manner of inhalation and exhalation only to plume smoke in a more symbolic and sexual manner. Taking a inhalation of the cigarette without actually drawing the pungent plumes fully within. Keeping the vapours within mouth and out of the lungs, dropping jaw wantonly, and enticing tongue to the back pressed against palate-- gesticulating slightly with a sinful suggestive roll. Sensuously, apertures parted revealing the lush full pillow of lower lustrous lip... as if to blow upwards, to stir a couple of wayward strands away from the perfection of her features and angling the smoke towards her nose. Articulately, impelling serpentine appendage forward from the back of mouth, creating a thicker vaporous cloud of smoke, breathing in through the nose in a slow and calm manner... draconian in ritualistic reverie (symbolic of the ‘Black Leviathan of the Seven Stars’... to drown lusts in illimitable seas of wickedness.)
So promiscuously intricate and necrotic...
So promiscuously intricate and necrotic...
The venture had been somewhat ‘clinical’ and ‘formal’ but it suited the means of her ends and didn’t provoke further interactions to coax the chauffeur and escort. It simply didn’t interest Satrina to do so. Less desire to temperate the flesh, it showed a lack of control or taste, something well observed throughout the course of the evening, on many cellular levels. Ah, but how the Devils watch and wait, hiding behind false smiles or in the thin virtues of naked flesh; their minds obsessing with assumptions and mislead imaginations, either due from the fires of passions or the coldness of unrequited advances. How icy the lover’s limbs be with florid no longer is the kiss that marks them amorous. Covetousness, the punishment of lust in all its crude design, nor the erotic pleasures picked from virgin vines— what a pity the apple had already been ravaged by the white worm and the decay of its ever-lingering taint a bruise upon its painted perfect flesh.
Grotesqueries’ embonpoint in orient-baroque streams of scarlet light, in dazzling array of a bloody and blooming field of flora; a world as dark and depraved as it was beautiful in its own immoral and voracious way. Statuesque features turning, streaks of ruby-red sparkling in the captured lenses of her eyes, as if the jewels themselves were caught in the dark trappestine aphelions. Glory had been accomplished, demise, the inebriation of appellation raised to joyous celebrations in reflect. Deep wells of eyes no thirst would ever drain, such myths naught but dust, ash and charred cinders filtered through the grains of time, and yet still some remained where life had fed upon the dying, and the dying left to feed upon the dead. ‘Bìyuèxiūhuā Jie’ [The Hiding Moon Festival] the phantasmagoric consummation of etiolate worm-eaten flesh, ingestion itself had been a cannibalistic/necrotic rite this evening, by symbology means of eating ‘living’ or ‘raw’ cuisine.
Hovering in the charcoal shadows, Lanterns and paper luminaries decorated even the massive oceanic vats, silently, viewing the chasms of striated confluence... florescence; a beauteous obscenity. "You really shouldn’t miss the ceremonies and celebrations in honour of Hēi'àn huózhe [‘Darkness Alive’], Lagx ur sha Sluga', Baftu'ag Bftathk O'thhug?” [Lady of the Spider, Beloved Black Orchid] Ushered in guttural tone, though subdued to the hival symphonies that swarmed within unsure throat; perhaps too hopefully that Satrina’s plans would change? Again denial would be seen, "Regretfully...nevertheless, my attentions, reverentially are placed elsewhere and have no time for paper lights and pretty flowers," replying with the gaze of a thousand ebonized daggers through the seismic breech of voids and with a voice equally matched to its necrotic toxins, "Enjoy." Rapturous breath mingled with the molten smoke in spectral spirals and sylph-coalesces; the catafalque of ghost-like ornamental fans cooling the dragon's wrath. Poised as a Goddess, or a woman who held her disposition redoubtable countless times. Unemotional from attempts at temptation, such fruits had already been presented before and declined many-fold, yet he addressed Satrina.
Lleering towards monologues with ‘hidden’ proposal; and the fact in reply she remained unmoved even if picturesque features scathed the offerings with a burning infliction. There was nothing of attraction, magnetism, sentiment or anything to suggest the wantonness of a fickle woman, deceived by the illusions of sensuality, in truth Satrina only concerned herself with that of her own sanguine pursuits. Distant murmurs of answer signal... unfailing recommendation not to pursue those perfumed charnels or the intoxicating writhe of empty lovers ... perilous in its luring, contrary to his intention to hide it. Meanwhile, forgetful of the danger, entrapped within spellbinding fragrances singing into his brain similar to some narcotic wine. Sleek physique leaning in towards with seductive invitation, insidious decrees, melodies through the veins flushed of unquenchable fires. Conflagration of heat where touch lingered in crimson welts, where fingers raked painfully, splayed to grace and touch in razor-incisions, traversing upwards against the hardened plate of rippled masculinity in undulant brazen slithering motions.
Sliding bio-membrane clad structure across the upholstery, petite in comparison when it came to size and physical type, diminutive. The Umarian Raquamothla was powerfully built, however his tone was submissive to her beguiling and charms. "When I am gone, so too shall the cosmos be consumed by fire," alluring rejoinder uttered in union with the inch by inch advance. Slow and calculating... predatory in sexual prowess, ever confident in marvel beneath the liquid black of garments. Clutching the male specimen by the shoulder with sharp-nailed fingers in sync with full poppy-crimson mouth curled into a vixenish simper...Bio-Synthetic membranes of attire melted away with the dissipated shadows, leaving nothing but the gentle glow of lunar-pale achromatic skin tones, the elegance of shapely outlines, and supple curves. Pale peaks of fragrant mounds skimmed tantalizingly against his chest when her arms pinned him down dominantly. Displaying the strength and sensuality sculptured in the solemn, superb, inevitable lines of divine lasciviousness with enough musculature tone to exhibit physical fortitude, and scores of years of combat upon battlefields. Oracular mirrors appeared benighted, pupilless in obsidian shades, little by little dimmed behind dulcet-lidded ebony lashes; sultrily for an instant perchance caught in some tantric trance.
Grip strengthened in a manner that nails pierced through cloth and skin like a honed stiletto daggers, pheromones disguised by sweet and honeyed floral imbues floating about resembling sinuous veils. Filling the soul with dark and mournful pleasures beyond normal capacity. Moving astride to greet twixt sinful thighs straddling and clamping roughly against his lap... shielded core only centimeters from fearless arousal. when venom-laced lips pursed, head tilt to proceed, exhaling sultry stimulation of the senses, in breath play. Billowed piquant spirals of exhalation alternated artistically between faint evocative suggestions, deviously ravenous on the delicate flesh of lobe (prior to licking at earlobe using the zenith of ‘skilled’ serpentine tongue). Leisurely descending in trail of tiny bites down the column of throat-- not even the chastest or the adept hands of a warrior could stay from those exhilarating fields. Rough palms ravishing the shiny luster of second skin, smooth beneath the calloused if war-torn caress exploring the firmness athletic and agile limbs. Liberty in languid accolade, tracing over taut landscapes of swathed thigh only to have his hand assailed... grappled in the potent clutches of finger armour.
Betrayals are forever the sweet wine of loathing; they eternally encompass the heart and soul with bitter regrets and sorrowful pangs. Useless. A promise broken... but time elapses all promises eventually. Forever is such a brief glitch in oblivion, for some forever is a short period subject to their life span, and for others it is a prolonged torment. This was not a manner of passing fancy, or supping the fetid waters of the communal well-- it was just another fly being spun in yet another web. Tongue flicking over the lower appendage of carmine, lustrous now in the overture of wavering light as umbration danced along with the secrets trapped within. In the tradition of those eyes gleaming in the mitigated light- wearing conquests like a tiara of twisted stars towards the centres of countless skies ... a trophy of unrivalled heritage and complexities. Warming to this, licentious acquaintance, for his affections bore desire only for her form, in declared and venerated nepotism. Yet, even in that worshiping adoration and deification of lust; his touch would be denied.
The ‘Black Orchid’ was not his to claim, to touch, nor were her lips his to taste, but he was certainly there to be discarded... just as she deemed fitting to the occasion... in salutations to the darkness and oblivion. Flawless elongated incisors, extracted to award a sweet and subtle poison, opalescent like the louche of absinthe or the whites of pearls-- resplendent with a rather enchanting pas de deux gleaming with a nefarious invite. Obvious she was blessed with powerful looks of deception, bestowing great disfavour on those who would bequeath such consideration or reward to imprudent in request— the act or expression of pleasure should never leave no path untaken. Many times Satrina had brought destruction with seduction; the wines that fuelled the pendulum trysts over a bed of satin or the black silken webs of the void were just one tool to wrap the heart or the adulation that had brought men and nations upon death-kneel. A superior complex, a need for ecstatic rendezvous that excelled far beyond yet flesh and fantasy. Soon, an excruciating demonstration of what was desired on the tongue, delights and horrors would unleashed by the gracious sweet submission.
Sacrificially blessed by savage altars and not just by a woman who bathed in the warm sanguine tributary of enemies but bore no prejudice between any relation. Nocturnal balneation, hitherto unremarked amid the Orchid’s vicious natures-- and just as she could have done lovingly, it was declined, preferring callous digits cruel in design pressed against his forehead, compelling his head harshly backwards against the black leather interior. Fangs extracted sadistically, driven with swift force to perforate the amberous skin of neck, akin to a peach warmed by the summer's heat. The deed not only imbibing but also injecting the virulent poisons as trails of blood spilled past blossoming lips, like spilt wine.
Grotesqueries’ embonpoint in orient-baroque streams of scarlet light, in dazzling array of a bloody and blooming field of flora; a world as dark and depraved as it was beautiful in its own immoral and voracious way. Statuesque features turning, streaks of ruby-red sparkling in the captured lenses of her eyes, as if the jewels themselves were caught in the dark trappestine aphelions. Glory had been accomplished, demise, the inebriation of appellation raised to joyous celebrations in reflect. Deep wells of eyes no thirst would ever drain, such myths naught but dust, ash and charred cinders filtered through the grains of time, and yet still some remained where life had fed upon the dying, and the dying left to feed upon the dead. ‘Bìyuèxiūhuā Jie’ [The Hiding Moon Festival] the phantasmagoric consummation of etiolate worm-eaten flesh, ingestion itself had been a cannibalistic/necrotic rite this evening, by symbology means of eating ‘living’ or ‘raw’ cuisine.
Hovering in the charcoal shadows, Lanterns and paper luminaries decorated even the massive oceanic vats, silently, viewing the chasms of striated confluence... florescence; a beauteous obscenity. "You really shouldn’t miss the ceremonies and celebrations in honour of Hēi'àn huózhe [‘Darkness Alive’], Lagx ur sha Sluga', Baftu'ag Bftathk O'thhug?” [Lady of the Spider, Beloved Black Orchid] Ushered in guttural tone, though subdued to the hival symphonies that swarmed within unsure throat; perhaps too hopefully that Satrina’s plans would change? Again denial would be seen, "Regretfully...nevertheless, my attentions, reverentially are placed elsewhere and have no time for paper lights and pretty flowers," replying with the gaze of a thousand ebonized daggers through the seismic breech of voids and with a voice equally matched to its necrotic toxins, "Enjoy." Rapturous breath mingled with the molten smoke in spectral spirals and sylph-coalesces; the catafalque of ghost-like ornamental fans cooling the dragon's wrath. Poised as a Goddess, or a woman who held her disposition redoubtable countless times. Unemotional from attempts at temptation, such fruits had already been presented before and declined many-fold, yet he addressed Satrina.
Lleering towards monologues with ‘hidden’ proposal; and the fact in reply she remained unmoved even if picturesque features scathed the offerings with a burning infliction. There was nothing of attraction, magnetism, sentiment or anything to suggest the wantonness of a fickle woman, deceived by the illusions of sensuality, in truth Satrina only concerned herself with that of her own sanguine pursuits. Distant murmurs of answer signal... unfailing recommendation not to pursue those perfumed charnels or the intoxicating writhe of empty lovers ... perilous in its luring, contrary to his intention to hide it. Meanwhile, forgetful of the danger, entrapped within spellbinding fragrances singing into his brain similar to some narcotic wine. Sleek physique leaning in towards with seductive invitation, insidious decrees, melodies through the veins flushed of unquenchable fires. Conflagration of heat where touch lingered in crimson welts, where fingers raked painfully, splayed to grace and touch in razor-incisions, traversing upwards against the hardened plate of rippled masculinity in undulant brazen slithering motions.
Sliding bio-membrane clad structure across the upholstery, petite in comparison when it came to size and physical type, diminutive. The Umarian Raquamothla was powerfully built, however his tone was submissive to her beguiling and charms. "When I am gone, so too shall the cosmos be consumed by fire," alluring rejoinder uttered in union with the inch by inch advance. Slow and calculating... predatory in sexual prowess, ever confident in marvel beneath the liquid black of garments. Clutching the male specimen by the shoulder with sharp-nailed fingers in sync with full poppy-crimson mouth curled into a vixenish simper...Bio-Synthetic membranes of attire melted away with the dissipated shadows, leaving nothing but the gentle glow of lunar-pale achromatic skin tones, the elegance of shapely outlines, and supple curves. Pale peaks of fragrant mounds skimmed tantalizingly against his chest when her arms pinned him down dominantly. Displaying the strength and sensuality sculptured in the solemn, superb, inevitable lines of divine lasciviousness with enough musculature tone to exhibit physical fortitude, and scores of years of combat upon battlefields. Oracular mirrors appeared benighted, pupilless in obsidian shades, little by little dimmed behind dulcet-lidded ebony lashes; sultrily for an instant perchance caught in some tantric trance.
Grip strengthened in a manner that nails pierced through cloth and skin like a honed stiletto daggers, pheromones disguised by sweet and honeyed floral imbues floating about resembling sinuous veils. Filling the soul with dark and mournful pleasures beyond normal capacity. Moving astride to greet twixt sinful thighs straddling and clamping roughly against his lap... shielded core only centimeters from fearless arousal. when venom-laced lips pursed, head tilt to proceed, exhaling sultry stimulation of the senses, in breath play. Billowed piquant spirals of exhalation alternated artistically between faint evocative suggestions, deviously ravenous on the delicate flesh of lobe (prior to licking at earlobe using the zenith of ‘skilled’ serpentine tongue). Leisurely descending in trail of tiny bites down the column of throat-- not even the chastest or the adept hands of a warrior could stay from those exhilarating fields. Rough palms ravishing the shiny luster of second skin, smooth beneath the calloused if war-torn caress exploring the firmness athletic and agile limbs. Liberty in languid accolade, tracing over taut landscapes of swathed thigh only to have his hand assailed... grappled in the potent clutches of finger armour.
Betrayals are forever the sweet wine of loathing; they eternally encompass the heart and soul with bitter regrets and sorrowful pangs. Useless. A promise broken... but time elapses all promises eventually. Forever is such a brief glitch in oblivion, for some forever is a short period subject to their life span, and for others it is a prolonged torment. This was not a manner of passing fancy, or supping the fetid waters of the communal well-- it was just another fly being spun in yet another web. Tongue flicking over the lower appendage of carmine, lustrous now in the overture of wavering light as umbration danced along with the secrets trapped within. In the tradition of those eyes gleaming in the mitigated light- wearing conquests like a tiara of twisted stars towards the centres of countless skies ... a trophy of unrivalled heritage and complexities. Warming to this, licentious acquaintance, for his affections bore desire only for her form, in declared and venerated nepotism. Yet, even in that worshiping adoration and deification of lust; his touch would be denied.
The ‘Black Orchid’ was not his to claim, to touch, nor were her lips his to taste, but he was certainly there to be discarded... just as she deemed fitting to the occasion... in salutations to the darkness and oblivion. Flawless elongated incisors, extracted to award a sweet and subtle poison, opalescent like the louche of absinthe or the whites of pearls-- resplendent with a rather enchanting pas de deux gleaming with a nefarious invite. Obvious she was blessed with powerful looks of deception, bestowing great disfavour on those who would bequeath such consideration or reward to imprudent in request— the act or expression of pleasure should never leave no path untaken. Many times Satrina had brought destruction with seduction; the wines that fuelled the pendulum trysts over a bed of satin or the black silken webs of the void were just one tool to wrap the heart or the adulation that had brought men and nations upon death-kneel. A superior complex, a need for ecstatic rendezvous that excelled far beyond yet flesh and fantasy. Soon, an excruciating demonstration of what was desired on the tongue, delights and horrors would unleashed by the gracious sweet submission.
Sacrificially blessed by savage altars and not just by a woman who bathed in the warm sanguine tributary of enemies but bore no prejudice between any relation. Nocturnal balneation, hitherto unremarked amid the Orchid’s vicious natures-- and just as she could have done lovingly, it was declined, preferring callous digits cruel in design pressed against his forehead, compelling his head harshly backwards against the black leather interior. Fangs extracted sadistically, driven with swift force to perforate the amberous skin of neck, akin to a peach warmed by the summer's heat. The deed not only imbibing but also injecting the virulent poisons as trails of blood spilled past blossoming lips, like spilt wine.
The Celestial ‘Architect’ treads brightly where the bones of unknown things lie...
Dark, ardent, pulsing vintages oozed over crimson lips, coppery malodorous nectars bursting on the senses-- tasting leisurely though negligent to the gifts of her sensual dark kiss though in its purpose tit was more to mock- his fate wasn't to be one of mercy. Whether it was by abhorrence alone or the poison that bitterly waltzed to coat the tongue with an invigorating tang, the mordant saliva that plunged souls into oblivion without remorse, carrying them on the psychopomp wings of vertigo, to the very shores of Death. Enjoy, indeed! Tangible semblances, 'in sanguine fœdus' [a covenant ratified in blood]. Thick sibilant black ichors relished- florets of ebony petals decorating alabaster valleys of ornate complexion and death-lilies. Demise, should never come on dispassionate swift wings, instead sweetly adrift on abysmal sea- for there was much reverence in the taking of a life.
There is something quite beautiful and sacred in taking a life?
The defeated man pinned like a scrutinized insect beneath glass, the glorified, the crucified, and the exiled. Intoxicating it is to stare into the infinite chasms, where she almost felt at home, seized in freeze-fame within frozen pits of terror. Asphyxiating, left hand obscuring clammy lips, muffling while cooing voice sung a soft lullaby intermingled within a vibrated hiss, honeyed poison softly ushered before soliloquy heralding the departure ... "Sssssssh!... Tha tuiaft shas ut tlu'us ut nus thia'tag su ftathuna gu's u' giats; us ut tha''uag su gghaftft un sha ftftuug! Bias us ut gaash ghhu thftaunt a'a'xshung, ru' us ut a ftagh, nus lianuthnans, su gua... ftias una shas aftft nan ghuftft satsa...." ["The soul that is spirit is not cursed to become dirt or dust; it is carried to dwell in the blood! But it is death who claims everything, for it is a law, not punishment, to die... but one that all men will taste..."]
Drawn by the perfumes of capitulation, relinquished avid nostalgia— portrait of the raging madness drawn from the dense shades of spires and cathedrals by persuaded enticements. Called to feast by infernos of iniquity, to fill the hollowness of depleted and forgotten years; and with that wine comes their life. Their souls, their memories: the intimate, the personal things, the secrets, and the common, everyday things: all. Heartlessness her bejewelled rosaries, terror her unholy laurels, blood her glistening rubies, everything inverted by a faith that fell so short of faithlessness. Sacrifice... a precious amulet that garnished palate and svelte form in embellishments of infernal pearls. Apotropaic, it almost burned belligerently like seething brand eternally to taunt recollection. It all was for nothing.... in the end of schemes of smothered screams. Bodily heat sucked from the victim in paroxysm, entropy stealing the very quintessence of life, extracting the contact of pores and needle like hooks infiltrate veins causing parasitic synapses [via Envenomation].
Dappled shades swirling to form void-like tendrils from the patches of darkness and shadow within the vehicles passenger compartment, even the driver took the liberty to conceal them behind black glass. Umbral spider webs entwining around the victim comparable to the ‘Darkness Living’ ceremony—since his eyes wished to observe it. Temperature rapidly declining whereas conjured frosted phantoms churned in the visible louche pangs of eupnea, saturating the area amid compassionless auroral fires (so cold is the flame that it blisters even steel and stone). Exsanguination. Mortiferous energies sucking away at the life force extorted , vitae enriching throat while the streams of knowledge flowed vehemently; the soldiers experiences past and present. Retracting dual tiers from the sweet coffers of jugular, any residues of rapacious indulgence dissolve and imbibed through stoma cells leaving no trace of the sumptuous feasting her lips quite entertained.
Caustic corrosives of intricate and biogenetical constructed venoms—accelerated apoptosis fervently swarming inner structures in dominant and vicious cellular warfare; DNA fragmentation, invading visceral tissues, symbiotic to consume from the interior to the exterior . Sickly broiling sounds of aerated putrescine and cadaverine, instantaneously protein hydrolysis instigating flesh to bubble, writhing from the volatile chemical amalgamations of amino acids and enzymes. Blistering veins exploded beneath the splitting membranes of humanoid masquerades, liquefying bone and the marrow to a thin consistency, in a matter of minutes. Greedily the adhesive webs of his bonds lapped at the dissolving cadaver’s gaping vistas where flaying tissue peeled, oozing emission dripped like molten ‘burnished’ wax and the copious secretions dissolve till nothing remained of his existence, apart from the combines sweet-musky scent of effluvium, copper and night-blooming flora.
An enigmatic immaculate state washed over feverish stature, voluptuousness descent unreceptive over rubescent lips, painted by the scarlet rhapsodies of syrupy liqueurs. Sensuous droop eyelids, which were akin to the petals of some exotic flower when they folded beneath a sultry velvet evening. Argent-armour clawed finger rising to wipe at the corner of Satrina’s mouth, turning to place herself right where the soldier had been sitting, plucking the packet of cigarette’s from what remained of his uniform. Placing another twixt embouchements, rapping on the back of the window where the driver instantly produced a light so that the cigarette began to glow, a small ruby eye of some grotto-dwelling chimera; nacre-grey vapour fumed in gyrate spirals of incense from a Voudoun altar of dark sorcery, beneath the frankincense flames of some alien giant sun. Long lissom leg crossed elegantly over the other, 9inch black stiletto’s complimenting the perfect symmetry of silky smooth, well formed shapely calf, curvaceous with just the slightest afterglow of natural sheen.
Impatiently gesturing with the flick of hand that attention may return forwards and not over the decorous eye-catching tribulations to treasure with wonderment – soon vanished behind a mantle of black. Bending forwards, where slender arms and lustrous lengths of hair inventively concealed her unabashed nakedness. Using the built-in BioCrypted datapad, gaining system access to the Sakruagna Docks after entering a series of security codes, passwords and visual confirmations of identity Satrina finally gained access, requesting the construct platforms required to successfully complete the goals that had been set into motion.
▌BioEncrypted | Cellular Scanners [active]
YUGHOSHI MATERNA CHANYOSA
To: Sakruagna. Docks -- Magista Directorate [Private Hangar #514 MG-SS]
Activate all facilities fully operational and on standby in preparation for DDV-I0X upgrades and launch. Include schematics and logistic systems activated. Place all advanced Laboratory and Engineer Operations online, MWD|VD|JD Drive Enhance Modules online, Capacitor Power Storage Advancement online. Guard presence also requested.
Immediately, not next week.
Daiaghsa't ur Da'knatt
Integrity and Sovereignty
Magistra Satrina Sheitanii ▌
The rather exclusive hovercraft, slowly passing through each security grid. Curious soldiers and Imperial Guards-- manning the gates looking in through heavily tinted spectrums, only to be dismayed at not being able to see who the vehicle passengers. Eventually coming to a complete halt just before the hangar bay whose doors were sealed closed and several arthropod guards. Multiple limbs fully covered in heavy plated exoskeleton armours, razored mandibles chittering amongst themselves... compound pupilless black eyes pinned harshly at the appearance of the craft. The last final ‘hiss’ resounding from the charged electromagnetic lifters, gravimetric disruptors deployed enabling a steady suspended levitation.
The wounds of archaic sensuality succumb to nothing, except for the memoirs of existence, and even then, their very essence remains potent, mysterious and completely unreachable.
Lao'Taun:
—| Betixt the stars, where mercy is granted in the silence of death
CLUSTERED WHISPERS UTTERED WITHIN DIMENSIONS OF ABSOLUTE TERROR
Tauangnei Observatory
The Chanyosa's vast size, that of a small moon left room for many places undiscovered. Clandestine of the walk of most of her occupants that rarely ventured beyond their habitable spaces. Among these jewels was the Tauangnei Observatory, one of the few places where transparent sections of the Yughoshi's exterior permitted a clear and undistorted view of space. Winding dark staircases curled about crystalline pillars that stretched upwards connecting deck after deck of observable vista. The swirling orb of Lorenz, beheld within the dark star painted expanse disrupted only by the visible plasmatic plumes of the nearby nebula.
Upon the eleventh level, the resounding buzz of the swarm echoed within the cavernous interior that could be consider an amphitheater beset to view the spectacles of the astral space. Dark clouds of insects assembled and began to anneal and fuse back into the humanoid-likeness of the celestial leige. Within moments the host of the emissary was completed, and beheld within reflected perfection upon the transparent panes. Sculpted musculature partially exposed beneath and between the black gloss of Chothakek's armor which had only grown to encompass part of his chest.
A deep aesthetic exhale beheld little emotion, intensity circulated within the reflected image of his eyes only briefly before he lowered his head, masculine and harsh tone tainted the words
"Since when is it we are expected to hold social hour with the less fortunate?" His question appeared to go unanswered, nothing moved besides the slow crawling turn of the sphere visible below. The warm light of the planetoid touched upon the exposed areas of his flesh. The reflection within the pane distorted and where one stood there was now two.
A chuckle emerged from lightly stained lips as the reflection clarified. "The less fortunate? You mean the misguided." The form of the Chrystalian beheld the emissary through the reflection in the pane. "It is not surprising, nor should it be. Some never learn about the company they keep." Blue eyes caressed with energetic flows captured the arrogance of the man's form.
Once more the image shifted, and the voice that came spoke harshly in scorn of the other. Beheld within the visage of the savior himself, the warm glow of the planet he built from ash to prime beheld him once more, crystalline gaze locked from beneath the cowl of firy red. "Do not be so quick to blame. You're always so quick to..letting your personal nonsense get in the way. Still daft, Nira...still impossibly obtuse." Adrin's form shifted, stepping slightly to the side. "To have an organization divided though is a concern, especially one with such a distinguished history. It should be labeled for what it is, it's own cultivated blasphemy...it would be wise to find ways to ensure it does not spread. Stand by Satrina, she will do what is needed, effectively as she has always done." The slender tips of the manifestient's ears twitched as he gazed upon Lorenz.
A third and final time, the flicker of distortion flooded around the Celestial Leige. His posture rigid, and his head didn't lift as the deep soothing tone of the peacekeeper joined. "So easy to rush to the cleansing, it would be unwise to seek resolution through conflict." Falcon looked from Nira to Adrin and then fell silent.
"You all talk too much..." Lao'Taun said, head raising as a dark smile painted his lips. "Sometimes I wonder what I seen in you. I forge my own path though, of you only one seemed to make even the remote similarity to sense and even then it was tinge about as dark as childish war games fought between children in a forest." The mangle of voices, rumbled between them as they argued and discussed. "Shut up!" he issued, head raising and with a loud thunderous pop, like a sonic boom the likeness of the three were reabsorbed. "The mandate is unfailing...Id much rather see bodies dangling from the lamp posts, marred and disemboweled through rage than listening to anymore of this cutesy nonsense. -- If there are those who believe they work above the UAR or outside of it's reach it is those who must be conquered next. Intestines pulled and twisted about barbed poles only so they can be served at victory's banquet." He scoffed, turning from the translucent pane he walked away, looking back towards the sprawl of one of the Chanyosa's urban capital district. "Filthy..." he issued, thankful his flesh renewed upon reformation. "If there are to be those who work outside of my reach, it is time my hand is sent reaching." Within the deep recesses of his being emotion and thought were translated to energy and orders chirped through more secure channels.
As arranged, a single soldier stood with the requested drop. Each step the celestial liege took the more the symbiont armor changed, curling about him to form the black naval-style uniform with ribbed dark cobalt panels that was generally worn when off the Chanyosa. The flooding flow of the open trench style jacket elongating and washing out behind him as he walked past the soldier, grabbing the duffel bag, along with the cigarette that hung from the soldier's lips. He took a drag, the end of the cigarette glowing brightly as he inhaled. He then exhaled, silver streams of smoke rising upwards from his mouth and nostrils. "Disgusting habit.." he issued, flicking the lit cigarette so it landed at the soldier's feet. Two more steps and he literally had passed the edge of the observation deck, falling feet first towards the city street far below. [Myothe] The air around him rushed, and flowed only as the electrogravitic field around his form shifted, providing control which would eventually slow his descent towards the entrance to the docks below.
—| Behind closed doors is such a limited concept, for only the eyes weaklings is limited by metal and glass.
THAT WHICH IS OF MY GARDEN
Exotic flowers are only as lush as the nutrient medium in which they grow. Even when the car was in transit, he had eyes to which he could see. Clearly such a display was bestowed upon his gaze willingly, immaculate flesh exposed as rivers of vitae licked upon polished leather. With distance such things were given the thought they were due, stirring aggression, hunger and the need to distribute violence as they were the outlets and expressions of his more pleasure driven nature. Temptation perhaps was not a weak suit, as had been displayed within the walls of the Jade House. Lao'Taun was no fool though, polished boots resounding against the floor as he entered the main dock facility from the street entrance. She'd be along soon, once she cleaned up her mess.
Tauangnei Observatory
The Chanyosa's vast size, that of a small moon left room for many places undiscovered. Clandestine of the walk of most of her occupants that rarely ventured beyond their habitable spaces. Among these jewels was the Tauangnei Observatory, one of the few places where transparent sections of the Yughoshi's exterior permitted a clear and undistorted view of space. Winding dark staircases curled about crystalline pillars that stretched upwards connecting deck after deck of observable vista. The swirling orb of Lorenz, beheld within the dark star painted expanse disrupted only by the visible plasmatic plumes of the nearby nebula.
Upon the eleventh level, the resounding buzz of the swarm echoed within the cavernous interior that could be consider an amphitheater beset to view the spectacles of the astral space. Dark clouds of insects assembled and began to anneal and fuse back into the humanoid-likeness of the celestial leige. Within moments the host of the emissary was completed, and beheld within reflected perfection upon the transparent panes. Sculpted musculature partially exposed beneath and between the black gloss of Chothakek's armor which had only grown to encompass part of his chest.
A deep aesthetic exhale beheld little emotion, intensity circulated within the reflected image of his eyes only briefly before he lowered his head, masculine and harsh tone tainted the words
"Since when is it we are expected to hold social hour with the less fortunate?" His question appeared to go unanswered, nothing moved besides the slow crawling turn of the sphere visible below. The warm light of the planetoid touched upon the exposed areas of his flesh. The reflection within the pane distorted and where one stood there was now two.
A chuckle emerged from lightly stained lips as the reflection clarified. "The less fortunate? You mean the misguided." The form of the Chrystalian beheld the emissary through the reflection in the pane. "It is not surprising, nor should it be. Some never learn about the company they keep." Blue eyes caressed with energetic flows captured the arrogance of the man's form.
Once more the image shifted, and the voice that came spoke harshly in scorn of the other. Beheld within the visage of the savior himself, the warm glow of the planet he built from ash to prime beheld him once more, crystalline gaze locked from beneath the cowl of firy red. "Do not be so quick to blame. You're always so quick to..letting your personal nonsense get in the way. Still daft, Nira...still impossibly obtuse." Adrin's form shifted, stepping slightly to the side. "To have an organization divided though is a concern, especially one with such a distinguished history. It should be labeled for what it is, it's own cultivated blasphemy...it would be wise to find ways to ensure it does not spread. Stand by Satrina, she will do what is needed, effectively as she has always done." The slender tips of the manifestient's ears twitched as he gazed upon Lorenz.
A third and final time, the flicker of distortion flooded around the Celestial Leige. His posture rigid, and his head didn't lift as the deep soothing tone of the peacekeeper joined. "So easy to rush to the cleansing, it would be unwise to seek resolution through conflict." Falcon looked from Nira to Adrin and then fell silent.
"You all talk too much..." Lao'Taun said, head raising as a dark smile painted his lips. "Sometimes I wonder what I seen in you. I forge my own path though, of you only one seemed to make even the remote similarity to sense and even then it was tinge about as dark as childish war games fought between children in a forest." The mangle of voices, rumbled between them as they argued and discussed. "Shut up!" he issued, head raising and with a loud thunderous pop, like a sonic boom the likeness of the three were reabsorbed. "The mandate is unfailing...Id much rather see bodies dangling from the lamp posts, marred and disemboweled through rage than listening to anymore of this cutesy nonsense. -- If there are those who believe they work above the UAR or outside of it's reach it is those who must be conquered next. Intestines pulled and twisted about barbed poles only so they can be served at victory's banquet." He scoffed, turning from the translucent pane he walked away, looking back towards the sprawl of one of the Chanyosa's urban capital district. "Filthy..." he issued, thankful his flesh renewed upon reformation. "If there are to be those who work outside of my reach, it is time my hand is sent reaching." Within the deep recesses of his being emotion and thought were translated to energy and orders chirped through more secure channels.
As arranged, a single soldier stood with the requested drop. Each step the celestial liege took the more the symbiont armor changed, curling about him to form the black naval-style uniform with ribbed dark cobalt panels that was generally worn when off the Chanyosa. The flooding flow of the open trench style jacket elongating and washing out behind him as he walked past the soldier, grabbing the duffel bag, along with the cigarette that hung from the soldier's lips. He took a drag, the end of the cigarette glowing brightly as he inhaled. He then exhaled, silver streams of smoke rising upwards from his mouth and nostrils. "Disgusting habit.." he issued, flicking the lit cigarette so it landed at the soldier's feet. Two more steps and he literally had passed the edge of the observation deck, falling feet first towards the city street far below. [Myothe] The air around him rushed, and flowed only as the electrogravitic field around his form shifted, providing control which would eventually slow his descent towards the entrance to the docks below.
—| Behind closed doors is such a limited concept, for only the eyes weaklings is limited by metal and glass.
THAT WHICH IS OF MY GARDEN
Exotic flowers are only as lush as the nutrient medium in which they grow. Even when the car was in transit, he had eyes to which he could see. Clearly such a display was bestowed upon his gaze willingly, immaculate flesh exposed as rivers of vitae licked upon polished leather. With distance such things were given the thought they were due, stirring aggression, hunger and the need to distribute violence as they were the outlets and expressions of his more pleasure driven nature. Temptation perhaps was not a weak suit, as had been displayed within the walls of the Jade House. Lao'Taun was no fool though, polished boots resounding against the floor as he entered the main dock facility from the street entrance. She'd be along soon, once she cleaned up her mess.
Satrina:
Subtle and manifold are the webs of the void-walkers, who pull on the chosen strings from birth to death and from death to death, throughout many lives.
It seemed for the moment her presence demanded attention concerning the 'heart' of the problem made in her own silent observations and gathered information. From within the compartment of the stationary vehicle, shadows swarmed and wrapped around the form as if to carry it away to the compounds of yet another brewing issue. Fading away from the corporeal stage of matters at hand, dagger-effulgence of her gaze focusing on the armed guards. Plethora-silk gossamer swept over arms in a cloak of darkness to conceal the flesh from closer scrutinies that would bring carnal thoughts to the minds of those not worthy to see let alone receive the rewards of such, treats. It would only be minutes of her absence... that she doubted would hardly go noticed let alone missed.
THE PRICE OF DISLOYALTY: THE UNBROKEN
THE.HEART.OF.THE.MAGISTRATE
The SI Clergy Magistra Megiste knelt before the woman standing before the colossal volumetric displays, murmuring into the back of her throat like a scolded pet, "I am always at your service, Thrice Ascended-Illustrious. Always" There were no eunuch guards or magistrate present inside the lavish antechambers, which was not that unusual, they were for decoration just like the over-sized wrought black gold candelabrums that decorated the rather lavish ‘heart’ of the magistrates central systems. "And so polite as well!" Satrina retorted distantly with a reticent laugh. "I entrust you've had a pleasurable sojourn at the courtesy of the Celestial Luminary here upon the Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa?"
"The Umarian Astral Raquamothla never failed to bring me joy and comfort”, the Clergy stated in truth and sincerity. "That's good to hear. I like hearing positive words. We should have more of that in this place, amongst us... pitiful, unworthy sinners.” Remained silent, the kneeling woman shifted uncomfortably beneath the lengths of cloak that trailed across the floor behind her, perfectly fanned blackness against the scarlet carpet. She'd always admired the ‘Black Orchid’, an opinion that had her far from the marginal respects held among the other judicial benches, but the tête-à-tête technique displayed by Satrina was dangerously comfortable and Megiste knew even partaking in such a hospitable heart-to-heart with the wrong word could mean an excursion to the purge pits or worse.
"Do you foresee the silent blackness between all the stars and all the heavens?" Satrina asked in mysterious silky tones. “For all time, Thrice Ascended-Illustrious”, Megiste said in a dulcet subservient tone. "How may I serve you?" This time Satrina did not rejoin with any dialect or the satin-symphonies of her voice, instead svelte physique moved away from the screen. With a wavered gesture of dainty hand to reveal the unoccupied hangar and the ominous silhouette of some cryptid-arachnidan shaped vessel draped in the obscurity of pale darkness and eclipsed lights that streamed from above. Silence... so complete was that reception from the lack of sound where within ears she heard the reverberations of pulsating heartbeat, the throbbing dull echoes singing within her mind. “Such a shame, it had come to... well... this!”
Realizing with an infinitesimal flowering of terror that the birdsong had fallen taciturn as well and there was no place in which to neither hide nor divert it. Maintaining resolute eyes upon the ground where form appeared pitiful in comparison to the woman before her that moved with this supernal ethereal grace towards the screen as if she was going to step through it and appear elsewhere in full glory, unrestrained. A waft of flowered fields or the blossoms of some far-flung garden aroused the clergy’s nostrils, drawing back the pheromone signature of perfume, tapping on the senses and the psyche. Then within not even a blink of the eye, faster than one could even draw breath Satrina was there looming over her like the effective she was... "From this zenith I could take off your head without having to raise a finger let alone occupy this tarnished space to do so," Satrina said in the same undisturbed unpoetic sarcasm.
"I believe you could”, Megiste replied maintaining her breathing as steady as possible with legs trembling slightly beneath the fold of her form, and was uncertain in the quake was from anxiety, fear or admiration. "I have spoken to Scahrossar, this evening”, there was now something else in the connotation of the velveteen venom that dripped ever so cordially from the silvered tongue, and even in those gestures and virtues of demeanour Megiste replied nothing else but silence. A bug trapped beneath the glass of a microscope. "Currently, at this present time your chambers are also being searched, by Magistrate law I am supposed to inform you prior to such intended violations. However, since you’ve blatantly ignored my requests to be reinstated, or, at least to process the information as per request and as per your position...”
Timbre and stature darkening in response to the subject, and the inkling of hints behind it suggesting boldly in which direction this interlude was venturing, and with inflection of husky yet feminine tones and accent that grated along the honeycomb to demonstrate indeed the poison within the honey, “You’ve left me no choice by to act via the law in which you do reside, that renders you shackled to the law of the UAR, with no rights and no privileges.” The sworn Magistra of the Waa'at ur sha Vuug inhaled deeply, so deep that the air burned her lungs from the incense smoke that rose to offer blessings and perhaps to hide the shit and filth cloaked by the scent of ctholzan-rose.... so resolutely hushed were those twitching apertures tense with uneasiness.
"Oh Megiste, poor dear! Has the black cat got your tongue, or do you have something to tell me, servant of the UAR? May I need remind you just on whose court you stand?" For the first time, Megiste looked up and directly into the eyes of The Black Orchid, highest representative of the celestial court, supreme authority in the Magistrate, and considered conduit to the ‘Living Darkness’. And saw something she recognized. "Nothing you don't already know, Thrice Ascended-Illustrious", the woman spoke softly, the gentle passive and submissive tones like the nightshade blossoms traversing the nocturnal tides with its somnolent mourning. Smiling tenderly, Satrina retrieved something out of a feathered lined pocket of her synthetic robe that concealed only in part the china-white porcelain flawlessness of firm tones. Bare curves seemingly sentient in their own majesty at the cajole and caress of shadow and the sword that fit seductively to the contour of upper thigh.
Megiste had no doubt that the Thrice Ascended-Illustrious fully knew what crimes had been committed, the dark webs and networks were vast within the UAR and the Yughoshi and that political secrets and agendas were generally treated with the utmost severity of the law, by whatever iron fist deemed deserving enough. An expression of shock drifted over the woman’s face, and even shadowed through the lengths of her moonlight blonde hair so sophisticated in its kept state; it was obvious the woman had pride not just in herself, but also the uniform in which she wore and displayed for the entire UAR public and military to look upon and act in respect-- for the history it held and had earned in the past. Not merely because it was the final embodiment of Megiste's doom, but because she had chosen the wrong choice of action and had charged others to follow in her incorrect and misguided steps.
... and they, yet to take responsibility for their own actions or be branded for what they were. "Show me how faithful you are, Megiste, show me that your words are not just words, but your conviction makes resolute the error!" the towering form of The Black Orchid loomed above, that same strange smile still written across those sanguine lips. "Talk.” Spat with a sense of intolerance, along with the discourtesy of being handled ever so unceremoniously. “I already know about the separations and the reasons thus declared behind said actions. I also know of the blunders of carelessly handled missions and the sabotage of those who have remained faithful that it places the entire faction of the Harpies at risk, even though their vowels are unbroken, their faithfulness will not be unrewarded."
Megiste knew that no matter what she said it wouldn't matter. Her fate would have been decided already, and the confession no more than an amusement. Whether she begged, pleaded, threatened or cajoled, it would still end her up in the purge pits or the final act of Seppuku. Nothing mattered now; but on the contrary, nothing was illicit. Through the pounding noise of heartbeat, there surfaced the realization that her voice was free to say what was wished, in this last confession.
So she began to talk....
It seemed for the moment her presence demanded attention concerning the 'heart' of the problem made in her own silent observations and gathered information. From within the compartment of the stationary vehicle, shadows swarmed and wrapped around the form as if to carry it away to the compounds of yet another brewing issue. Fading away from the corporeal stage of matters at hand, dagger-effulgence of her gaze focusing on the armed guards. Plethora-silk gossamer swept over arms in a cloak of darkness to conceal the flesh from closer scrutinies that would bring carnal thoughts to the minds of those not worthy to see let alone receive the rewards of such, treats. It would only be minutes of her absence... that she doubted would hardly go noticed let alone missed.
THE PRICE OF DISLOYALTY: THE UNBROKEN
THE.HEART.OF.THE.MAGISTRATE
The SI Clergy Magistra Megiste knelt before the woman standing before the colossal volumetric displays, murmuring into the back of her throat like a scolded pet, "I am always at your service, Thrice Ascended-Illustrious. Always" There were no eunuch guards or magistrate present inside the lavish antechambers, which was not that unusual, they were for decoration just like the over-sized wrought black gold candelabrums that decorated the rather lavish ‘heart’ of the magistrates central systems. "And so polite as well!" Satrina retorted distantly with a reticent laugh. "I entrust you've had a pleasurable sojourn at the courtesy of the Celestial Luminary here upon the Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa?"
"The Umarian Astral Raquamothla never failed to bring me joy and comfort”, the Clergy stated in truth and sincerity. "That's good to hear. I like hearing positive words. We should have more of that in this place, amongst us... pitiful, unworthy sinners.” Remained silent, the kneeling woman shifted uncomfortably beneath the lengths of cloak that trailed across the floor behind her, perfectly fanned blackness against the scarlet carpet. She'd always admired the ‘Black Orchid’, an opinion that had her far from the marginal respects held among the other judicial benches, but the tête-à-tête technique displayed by Satrina was dangerously comfortable and Megiste knew even partaking in such a hospitable heart-to-heart with the wrong word could mean an excursion to the purge pits or worse.
"Do you foresee the silent blackness between all the stars and all the heavens?" Satrina asked in mysterious silky tones. “For all time, Thrice Ascended-Illustrious”, Megiste said in a dulcet subservient tone. "How may I serve you?" This time Satrina did not rejoin with any dialect or the satin-symphonies of her voice, instead svelte physique moved away from the screen. With a wavered gesture of dainty hand to reveal the unoccupied hangar and the ominous silhouette of some cryptid-arachnidan shaped vessel draped in the obscurity of pale darkness and eclipsed lights that streamed from above. Silence... so complete was that reception from the lack of sound where within ears she heard the reverberations of pulsating heartbeat, the throbbing dull echoes singing within her mind. “Such a shame, it had come to... well... this!”
Realizing with an infinitesimal flowering of terror that the birdsong had fallen taciturn as well and there was no place in which to neither hide nor divert it. Maintaining resolute eyes upon the ground where form appeared pitiful in comparison to the woman before her that moved with this supernal ethereal grace towards the screen as if she was going to step through it and appear elsewhere in full glory, unrestrained. A waft of flowered fields or the blossoms of some far-flung garden aroused the clergy’s nostrils, drawing back the pheromone signature of perfume, tapping on the senses and the psyche. Then within not even a blink of the eye, faster than one could even draw breath Satrina was there looming over her like the effective she was... "From this zenith I could take off your head without having to raise a finger let alone occupy this tarnished space to do so," Satrina said in the same undisturbed unpoetic sarcasm.
"I believe you could”, Megiste replied maintaining her breathing as steady as possible with legs trembling slightly beneath the fold of her form, and was uncertain in the quake was from anxiety, fear or admiration. "I have spoken to Scahrossar, this evening”, there was now something else in the connotation of the velveteen venom that dripped ever so cordially from the silvered tongue, and even in those gestures and virtues of demeanour Megiste replied nothing else but silence. A bug trapped beneath the glass of a microscope. "Currently, at this present time your chambers are also being searched, by Magistrate law I am supposed to inform you prior to such intended violations. However, since you’ve blatantly ignored my requests to be reinstated, or, at least to process the information as per request and as per your position...”
Timbre and stature darkening in response to the subject, and the inkling of hints behind it suggesting boldly in which direction this interlude was venturing, and with inflection of husky yet feminine tones and accent that grated along the honeycomb to demonstrate indeed the poison within the honey, “You’ve left me no choice by to act via the law in which you do reside, that renders you shackled to the law of the UAR, with no rights and no privileges.” The sworn Magistra of the Waa'at ur sha Vuug inhaled deeply, so deep that the air burned her lungs from the incense smoke that rose to offer blessings and perhaps to hide the shit and filth cloaked by the scent of ctholzan-rose.... so resolutely hushed were those twitching apertures tense with uneasiness.
"Oh Megiste, poor dear! Has the black cat got your tongue, or do you have something to tell me, servant of the UAR? May I need remind you just on whose court you stand?" For the first time, Megiste looked up and directly into the eyes of The Black Orchid, highest representative of the celestial court, supreme authority in the Magistrate, and considered conduit to the ‘Living Darkness’. And saw something she recognized. "Nothing you don't already know, Thrice Ascended-Illustrious", the woman spoke softly, the gentle passive and submissive tones like the nightshade blossoms traversing the nocturnal tides with its somnolent mourning. Smiling tenderly, Satrina retrieved something out of a feathered lined pocket of her synthetic robe that concealed only in part the china-white porcelain flawlessness of firm tones. Bare curves seemingly sentient in their own majesty at the cajole and caress of shadow and the sword that fit seductively to the contour of upper thigh.
Megiste had no doubt that the Thrice Ascended-Illustrious fully knew what crimes had been committed, the dark webs and networks were vast within the UAR and the Yughoshi and that political secrets and agendas were generally treated with the utmost severity of the law, by whatever iron fist deemed deserving enough. An expression of shock drifted over the woman’s face, and even shadowed through the lengths of her moonlight blonde hair so sophisticated in its kept state; it was obvious the woman had pride not just in herself, but also the uniform in which she wore and displayed for the entire UAR public and military to look upon and act in respect-- for the history it held and had earned in the past. Not merely because it was the final embodiment of Megiste's doom, but because she had chosen the wrong choice of action and had charged others to follow in her incorrect and misguided steps.
... and they, yet to take responsibility for their own actions or be branded for what they were. "Show me how faithful you are, Megiste, show me that your words are not just words, but your conviction makes resolute the error!" the towering form of The Black Orchid loomed above, that same strange smile still written across those sanguine lips. "Talk.” Spat with a sense of intolerance, along with the discourtesy of being handled ever so unceremoniously. “I already know about the separations and the reasons thus declared behind said actions. I also know of the blunders of carelessly handled missions and the sabotage of those who have remained faithful that it places the entire faction of the Harpies at risk, even though their vowels are unbroken, their faithfulness will not be unrewarded."
Megiste knew that no matter what she said it wouldn't matter. Her fate would have been decided already, and the confession no more than an amusement. Whether she begged, pleaded, threatened or cajoled, it would still end her up in the purge pits or the final act of Seppuku. Nothing mattered now; but on the contrary, nothing was illicit. Through the pounding noise of heartbeat, there surfaced the realization that her voice was free to say what was wished, in this last confession.
So she began to talk....
In the silence Megiste spoke of pain and punishment, of the fracture between body and spirit and the idealisms that nobody could possibly fulfil unless they explored all facets of existence. She spoke of the heavenly visions encountered outside herself and the hellish aftermath of the fall back to reality when all had been left to the rot of disloyalty. She confessed the constant, infinite, unyielding frustration with the Magistrate’s insistence on denying itself the divine imperative to be nothing more than insubordinate animals. At some point, through the fugue of quiet panic, realizing she had stood up and was looking Satrina’s face only to see it void of any response other than listening, until dialogue ceased, falling tersely wordless like the last page had turned and the book was closed with a forceful shudder.
Feeling clean yet empty, like anything Satrina did would be an afterthought to a life already ended, that should have been ended in the realization of its failure. A dull and uncomprehending mind could even figure it out, failure meant ones death, whether by mission or one’s own hand—defeat was not an option. Even if the transgression was not entirely hers, the fact was the attempt at trying to secrete it was initially just as bad at the offence and crime of it. Dishonour meant death, to any Magistra. "Do you know what is going to happen to you, faithful one?" ‘Faithful’ a rhyme sung to the cynical choirs and even the vibration if the word caused the spires to convulse and quaver, not just an accusation but a condemnation. "I will die!" Megiste said sorrowfully and regretfully. "Candidly”, uttered back through the voidic spirals of the Daiaghsa't ur Da'knatt, assertive and cold.
There was no sign; no laser outline, no shimmer and nothing that indicated a change. Satrina merely gave a short grunt of satisfaction, and as if melded to the darkness of porous membranes, the volumetric display switched to the [offline] status leaving both women alone within the confines of the SI chambers. "Your excommunication has been decided, acolyte", spoken with the utmost direction of following courses of action. "You are but the flame of a candle now snuffed twixt the fingers, a curse unto your own darkness, one forgotten to the tomes of time. Unremembered. For such is the way of our laws. I shall hope you do not disappoint me in this, your final act." Eminence not suggested by feeble uttered discourse, but by the very impression staining the ambiance—potent and overwhelming.
It forced the woman back to the position of obeisance by the compelling pressure from the top of cranium to the gnarled perforation of imperceptible claws on shoulders, digging in to the very bone and even beyond the core of the soul as if to rip it out from the roots. "Contrary to what you might believe, I am extremely devoted... but I am also not merciful and I know nothing of forgiveness.” Stated in only in passing while looking over the arch of shoulder, momentum fluid while circling around the female in a predatory indifference, intangible amorphous figures appeared almost in all places at once and moved in widdershins in pursuit of their beloved mistress. Megiste nodded, unable to tear her gaze from the writhing tenuous swarm that percolated and bleed from ever visible fissure of the buildings structure.
Feeling nauseated, disorientated and light-headed, the Magistra was compelled and chastised as shadows coiled around limbs to form the shackles in which she had bound herself by admitting self-indulgences to parade failure as if it was a diamond choker around slender throat. “This is the greatest and darkest path you shall ever have to walk, acolyte. For you will walk blindfolded, chained to that of your shame and unsupported through the gaping obsidian maws of the eternal blackness. But in doing this final act, you will learn courage, understand it and even honour it, unlike what you accomplished, in life!” A feigned tender hand shrewdly placed on the shoulders of the suppressed, and even though the presence was visibly seen, other influences weighed heavy on the ruined.
Munificence the immusical revelation of the celestial choirs in lachrymose, “You have served me and the UAR well in the past, despite your indiscretions... and you WILL serve me again even better in your end." Insidious and apathetic in the necrotic suspiration of position. "Thrice Ascended-Illustrious, I... well, what is there to say? I serve", Megiste affirmed, and bowed her head even lower so the streams of gold fall to conceal the gently trickled of crystalline tears, and with the subservient nuance of sombre acquiescence. "So you will!" fateful last words spoken, nothing of sorrowful farewells or joyous hymns that previously ricocheted from the inner sanctums of the SI chambers.
Only three of the other Magistra had ever seen this particular chamber with its wavering umbilical cords and jubilant sighs, not since the death of Magistra Abnukta Crataeis. Reflectionless eyes cast downwards; there was no requirement for the ritual procedures that came with this dishonour— produced in the silvery reflections of the grinning wakizashi.
An agonizing feat was faith and dedication, something many claimed to have and yet so very few actually possessed it, not in the ascendancy that the Magistrate were alleged to hold sacrosanct. Proficient and sturdy hand of Megiste held the blade with a portion of white linen wrapped around the razor-sharp edges of the short sword so that it did not cut her hand, taint the act of obligation or cause flaw in the grip so that the incisions would be considered an abomination of devotion . Held towards stomach and with a balanced force utilized by both hands it was plunged deep into the abdomen. Whetted muted pummel smothered by the Goetic blessings as the sanguine sunset leapt, seeping through the whites of robes where blade corrupted flesh.
Blood bubbling, seething and weaving in pain, to one wild dirge where the fallen faded petals' weight upon the rouged and rolling surge. Not even the wounded whimper or the agonizing vocalized shimmers within emerald eyes portrayed the true depths of expression. A look was unique and not one endearing to that of war or the battlefield; it was one of religious and metaphysical capitulation, a feminine grace to an act of a fanatic. Last Blood of the Scarlet Meadows. Cutting from left to right horizontally—it required strength that in truth not many had certainly not in the constructs of the Magistrate where loyalty appeared somehow questionable. Chorded monotones accompanied the final deed, grotesque sinews dripped from the opening fissures in rubbery threads pulsating with life as they steamed from hitting the cold air.
Gurgling, rupturing, dripping... the breath was borrowed, the soul was bought. And so too was the body delivered by the coup de grace with the instance of singing metal of her Shas Eisalodai: Uchigatana, expressive in the grinning silver pools of its forging. Form slightly turned diagonal in stance as eloquent blade poised, then rising to only fall like a splinter of lightning towards the bowed nape of neck with a swift and meticulous mastery. Dakikubi in this case had not administered traditionally or as quickly as it should have been, the pleasure of the art was far too sweet not to enjoy; but with sweet there was always the sour. And in some cases where sentimental values were caught in the mix, revenge would thus be taken.
Skillfully, the blade would not greet the quarters of a complete sever, the beheading, done in a manner of taste and respect, leaving only a fragment of connection of the head to the neck. A delicate sliver of flesh left attached leaving it to hang in frontal position as if embraced to a more dignified death rather than one of a lifetimes disgrace. Life as we all know, is bitter-sweet, and once done, once said, so it is for eternity; wipe it off the scrolls or tell the jury to overlook it, but once it is done, it is done no time to shed a tear. Satrina wouldn’t be injudicious enough to betray her feelings at any time, but she also did not scrutinize or question to the mechanics which had been for countless years, divine law. Law that was no longer the scathe of the sword as it slid deftly back to the position of Satrina’s thigh.
Stepping over the broken effigy of what now looked no more than a shattered doll hanging limp amongst the crushed satins of red rose petals—towards the ‘Atemporal Hivemind’ connecting through the inviscid flow of the spiral tapestry, mentally manipulations seeking the weak points and exploiting them via the sapient and quantum omissions in the sentient DNA structures of the outer surfaces. Contagions penetrating the AI|SI nucleus, the desensitization of natural defences occurring as neuromuscular transmissions were blocked and then depolarizing the plasma membranes of the muscle fibres that held together the massive bio-mainframe [basilisk potency].
Walls appearing to waver, physical forms taking new and meaningless shapes as this continued in interwoven spirals. Ominous static crackling of blackened, now visible veins, nebulous potency in defiance of any reality, sparks of midnight ebony flittering and cracking like whips… highly charged particles cancelling electromagnetic fields, rendering all divisions to authoritarian immobilization. In the dispatch in accordance and in sync with such workings, scanning status positions of those [offline] ensuring that the communication relays of every [online] and [offline] Magistra would be received and not blissfully ignored. The message would give no ultimatum but if faction could no longer coexist then it was advisable they comply or depart the asylum of the Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa.
Quote
▌ENCRYPTED MESSAGE: ATEMPORAL HIVEMIND—RELAY OPEN NETWORK TRANSMISSION
To: ALL IDLE MAGISTRATE OFFICALS, AGENTS AND RELATED OFFICES
Taking all into consideration, and that in the performing of duty, there is no friendship which to be considered only commitment, loyalty and faithfulness. Actions have occurred that any could call neither subjective nor honourable. Should you wish to continue with divisions and the fall of factions, then by Magistrate law you are to resign your positions since you have abandoned you duty. It is my responsibility to tend to this gaping wound within the Magistrate and I shall either attend to it by ruthless cauterization or decapitation before the slow but sure diminishing. Dedicated lifetimes of faithful operation dissipated for nothing. Nowadays an enervated concoction brewed by the throng of bickering fecal eating scarabs bathing in the stale piss of subordination.
Of course, I am sure there is a residuum of honest and worthy effort as I am sure there is all the flowery justifications, but I simply can't swallow most of the post-Cysthianain garbage. In consequence, in fear and faithlessness you all had run a thousand miles, I do hope your faith and actions will be justified before the Magistrates Court. A dishonour most of you should have had swords drawn, and plunged yourselves upon them when you fell from grace.
Choose your path wisely, vestals.
Yours, under the sign of the Black Seal.
Death is the Last Honour
Thrice-Ascended Illustrious- Grand Mastra Satrina Sheitanii ▌
Darkness churned beneath the black crystalline diaphanous surface of the awe-inspiring dark matriarch’s flesh. Various hues of midnight intermingling with shadows creating a gyrating hive of arcane erudition relaying such frank and blunted expectations. Programming continuously all that tasty information into arcane mind- streams of the constant matrix of Magistrate networks, ‘Arcane Grids’ relaying as well the final act of the Megiste, telemetry graphics depicted it in graphic detail as the ambient signals of the all the Magistra fleets vitals flashed in bright red as all stations switched to [inoperative].
Turning back, murmuring a sharp litany, eyes laden with tempest and eclipse as the antechamber lights dimmed to the same dark vermillion luminosity that gave the lengths of her sable like the embers seen through darkest wine, unextinguished burning in the blood-hue iridescence. Stature draped in a manner which made Satrina’s captivatingly callipygous beauty stood out above the rest, unrivalled. Motion with the flowing grace of a sibilant snake-charmer, more shadows gathering strength from their ancient and unbroken brooding-- with all the influence and all the sopor of a deep despair; subterranean as death and hollow as limbo. The earth has grown abysmal beneath them, and the air full of unseen precipitate gulfs. Back to where all her attentions should be placed and should never have faltered.
STATIONED: Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa
DESTINATION: Sakruagna. Docks -- Magista Directorate [Private Hangar #514 MG-SS]
DESTINATION: Sakruagna. Docks -- Magista Directorate [Private Hangar #514 MG-SS]
SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: [UAR HSC or HCP Required]
Impalpably with the gusty strands through shattered liminal and between formless gates she dwelled henceforward as a shadow within shadows. Where laces of metamorphic shadows fell and shifted, over materializing embodiment crafted back to flesh and bone. The engineers of the void had this rather distinctive look and presence; clad rather less conservative but in no way disrespectful to the mystery that should remain that of the resolute blossom whose perfumes were for the select and not the tastes of beggar or ‘common’ muse. Ornate and elegant, after all it is what gave cause to her ‘initial’ position. Creamy statuesque sharp high cheekbone accents seemed flush with new-life, a glow of vivacity to the chromatic complexion giving a rose-water illumination along facial arches decorated beneath the mantles of midnight.
Poignant, gliding across the diminished leathers as the computerized drone of the hovercrafts door lifted to allow Satrina’s exit. Placid zephyrs playing with the strands of hair, tossing them back in ethereal kisses where then cold wind-talons raked as if to flay the beauty away from sinew only to be starved of desires and such primordial pleasures. Manicured brow arching while glancing over the armoured guards, their veritable 'savage images' of vicious sub-species glimmering in the approach of stygian mirrors casting back the horror of their forms but too admiring the brutal savagery of the race—deemed beautiful in its own rights. Sexual prowess, serpentine tribal-like rhythms swung in cavorting voodoo sways, the sybaritic flounce of the ‘Celestial Inamorata’ prospered.
Stiletto heels clicking across the smooth tarmacadam in a suave and relatively cheery gait, body following the motion of hips in metrical swing from the firm derrière, hips and steadily upwards to the shoulders in such confidence it oozed from the very sexual allure and ambiance that clung erotically in temporal aromatic redolence. Satrina sensed him close; the very winds gave away the scent of incomparability-- The passion of the impossible, the pride of lust immortal, for the scandalous indignation and pain of canonization in scarlet worlds. Imperatrix of the Raquamothla gardens, exotic flowers of manifold petals, herself like the pale lilies of Paradise, the amaranth whose perfect and immortal beauty the seraphim so often ponder; fierce and splendid like the endless night.
Entering prominently through the bay doors which one of the guards was so polite to oblige, being granted a nod in passing, perhaps it was wise for them, that their bioacoustics or subterranean anthropogenic high-pitched resonation didn’t bleed through the swarm hivals and transcended across the Chanyosa through the very spires themselves. Within the confidential confines of the hangar, the dim greenish volumetric lights that bled across the emptiness causing a sickly verdancy over the steel patina of the accents. Retractable umbilicals hanging from above, the logistics, engineering and other artificial mechanisms all synchronised to the various hums and vibrational. Audible sounds of sharply-honed points against the polished floors. Stepping over the diagonal hydraulic lines and the way right hand rose to trace across the console of the schematic terminal to caress.
A single string of prompt commands, scrolling manually through the menu’s entering security codes and sequences upon the touch screen, DDV-I0X Vespula [engineering activate reconstruct] [power grid active] [optimization upgrades scanning] [Power Conduits automatic] [regeneration process active] ensuring that all other grids and devices were in standby mode and ready to provide optimization for the required mission of the vessel that would soon be revealed. Leaning over the display, observing the power grids and the computerized processes that would be first to be transformed. Indeed nothing was as it appeared to be, the signs and signals had been there with the twists and turns-- though it was highly doubtful any of them would be able to figure it out.
Lao'Taun: ?|The Limits of Infinity exist only within the confines of the unexplained, you can measure the universe trice over, but this timeless desire lays trapped within the confinements of circumstance.
Sakruagna Docking Facility
The size of Sakruagna was massive, hundreds of internalized docking bays housing ships of importance to the highest levels of the U.A.R including the Hand of Lao'Taun and the Magistra. It was a secure facility, and often when ships were loading or unloading it was a busy place -- the rest of the time it beheld a vacant solitude. It seemed quieter than usual, his armoured boots resounding against the polished marble flooring as he walked down one of the corridors overlooking the bay where the Telyua was docked. His reflection distorted as he continued forwards heading towards the tram terminal so he could head to the Magistra's dock area.
The faint scent of Nyshakrlzhao interlaced with the normally recycled sterilized air of the Chanyosa's internal environmental system. His nostrils flared, as that the vapours grew stronger and stronger and it became obvious that the very vessel had been opened, that blood had been spilt and death had been bestowed. As his boot-falls echoed down the hallway, the lights began to flicker causing him to tense. He turned his head to look out into the bay but his view was obstructed, inky violet streams of Nyshakrlzhao had coated the view-port, much like an artist's canvas. Arching splatters washed from the floor upwards, the soles of his boots sticking within the coagulating vitae for a few more steps before he dropped the duffel bag to the ground. He took an unneeded aesthetic breath, the fumes of death and sweet virginal sacrifice stirred him, the very flow of the air down the passageway brushing over his skin carrying the tales of movement that remained out of sight. When he seen the severed torso hung upon the wall, the mark of the Kekigolehotu didn't bring much surprise to him - the virgin status of the members of that order were exclusive - a valuable part of the Hand of Lau'Taun. Lao'Taun grinned as he looked upon the torso, knowing that the Nyshakrlzhao female had at least died in the line of service. The air shifted, pressures adjusting once more, as if the docks themselves were taking a breath. Lao'Taun could feel he wasn't alone. Something was there, something waiting for him. His gloved fingers befell the forehead of the slain member of the Kekigolehotu which had been impaled upon one of the hook-like aesthetics on the railing, tips moving downwards to close the lids of the already empty portals that had remained frozen within the final moments of ferocity.
Lao'Taun smirked as his attempts to raise the mindhive failed, the lack of communications actually made him chuckle. "So, a child has once more been sent to do the work of an adult. I do appreciate the attempt to redecorate the docking zone though, but somehow I just don't see hot purple being in season very long." His voice echoed down the seemingly empty corridor as he took a few more steps forwards. A short pressurized hiss coming from behind him as the locks on Godsmourn's containment cylinder. "I prefer green myself. It tends to show off well on the inner armour of the hull. I figure that will be your colour, was your mother's anyway. Seems your family would of been better off going into the interior decorating field rather than the military." The Celestial Luminary's smirk faded as the faint sound of air rushing through a spiracle could be heard, giving away the position of the Cyiasich Monstrosity that had come for him. A large carapace armoured appendage swung down from above, cleaving with it's razor sharp claw towards the side of his neck seeking to behead him. Having already anticipated from where the strike was coming from, Lao'Taun shifted back sharply, right hand reaching up to grab Godsmourn's hilt and drag the legendary monomolecular blade from it's containment cylinder. The blade sung, vibrating as it moved through the air cleaving in an upwards arch to meet the incoming appendage.
When the monomolecular blade slipped through the armoured carapace like butter the bright green acidic blood poured from the gaping hole that remained behind. The acidic slurry began to almost immediately react with the alloys in the corridor and ineffectively against Lao'Taun's symbiotic armor that presently still mimicked the uniform and jacket. The vapors from the acid and the reacting metals quickly plume to fill the corridor as the massive monstrosity lowered itself from the ceiling, it's towering carapace armoured form and jointed appendages retreating back a few paces as it reared its self upwards releasing a high pitched squeal as it prepared for battle.
Several Minutes Later
Sakruagna Docking Facility
Magistra Docking Sector
The Hanger access doors opened to the corridor, revealing the obvious silhouette of the Celestial Liege. His duffle bag tossed in skidding along the floor towards where the rest of the cargo was stacked. When he moved forwards, the light shifted to reveal his battle-torn form. The marks of victory gashed brazen and muscular architecture marred by debris and soot. In places the symbiont had died and fallen off him. Hair soaked in toxic blood that dripped down his face and landed on the floor as he continued forwards creating small smouldering drips that created small geysers of steam in the metal floor. The emissary form had ruggedly withstood the pummelling, and had eventually manoeuvred him to victory. Each hard step quickened forwards [Myothe] as his electrogravitic field shifted, almost at a run he jammed his right foot downwards lifting off the floor of the bay and leaping up assisted by the field to land on the terminal platform where Satrina was.
He landed hard, Godsmourn still clutched in his right hand. From beneath soaked dark blue cowl his nebulous orbs reflected her image. His form still heaved, chest architecture tightening and relaxing which seemed to surge through his form. His eyes narrowed, caustic and steaming with the heated aftermath of victorious conflict. He didn't speak, facial expression stoic despite the fires within his gaze. He closed the distance between them in one long step, coming to almost touching her when he brought his lips to her ear, nothing but a deep hot breath escaped his lips. The violent sweetness of pheromone laced toxins dripping from the opened maw.
Sakruagna Docking Facility
The size of Sakruagna was massive, hundreds of internalized docking bays housing ships of importance to the highest levels of the U.A.R including the Hand of Lao'Taun and the Magistra. It was a secure facility, and often when ships were loading or unloading it was a busy place -- the rest of the time it beheld a vacant solitude. It seemed quieter than usual, his armoured boots resounding against the polished marble flooring as he walked down one of the corridors overlooking the bay where the Telyua was docked. His reflection distorted as he continued forwards heading towards the tram terminal so he could head to the Magistra's dock area.
The faint scent of Nyshakrlzhao interlaced with the normally recycled sterilized air of the Chanyosa's internal environmental system. His nostrils flared, as that the vapours grew stronger and stronger and it became obvious that the very vessel had been opened, that blood had been spilt and death had been bestowed. As his boot-falls echoed down the hallway, the lights began to flicker causing him to tense. He turned his head to look out into the bay but his view was obstructed, inky violet streams of Nyshakrlzhao had coated the view-port, much like an artist's canvas. Arching splatters washed from the floor upwards, the soles of his boots sticking within the coagulating vitae for a few more steps before he dropped the duffel bag to the ground. He took an unneeded aesthetic breath, the fumes of death and sweet virginal sacrifice stirred him, the very flow of the air down the passageway brushing over his skin carrying the tales of movement that remained out of sight. When he seen the severed torso hung upon the wall, the mark of the Kekigolehotu didn't bring much surprise to him - the virgin status of the members of that order were exclusive - a valuable part of the Hand of Lau'Taun. Lao'Taun grinned as he looked upon the torso, knowing that the Nyshakrlzhao female had at least died in the line of service. The air shifted, pressures adjusting once more, as if the docks themselves were taking a breath. Lao'Taun could feel he wasn't alone. Something was there, something waiting for him. His gloved fingers befell the forehead of the slain member of the Kekigolehotu which had been impaled upon one of the hook-like aesthetics on the railing, tips moving downwards to close the lids of the already empty portals that had remained frozen within the final moments of ferocity.
Lao'Taun smirked as his attempts to raise the mindhive failed, the lack of communications actually made him chuckle. "So, a child has once more been sent to do the work of an adult. I do appreciate the attempt to redecorate the docking zone though, but somehow I just don't see hot purple being in season very long." His voice echoed down the seemingly empty corridor as he took a few more steps forwards. A short pressurized hiss coming from behind him as the locks on Godsmourn's containment cylinder. "I prefer green myself. It tends to show off well on the inner armour of the hull. I figure that will be your colour, was your mother's anyway. Seems your family would of been better off going into the interior decorating field rather than the military." The Celestial Luminary's smirk faded as the faint sound of air rushing through a spiracle could be heard, giving away the position of the Cyiasich Monstrosity that had come for him. A large carapace armoured appendage swung down from above, cleaving with it's razor sharp claw towards the side of his neck seeking to behead him. Having already anticipated from where the strike was coming from, Lao'Taun shifted back sharply, right hand reaching up to grab Godsmourn's hilt and drag the legendary monomolecular blade from it's containment cylinder. The blade sung, vibrating as it moved through the air cleaving in an upwards arch to meet the incoming appendage.
When the monomolecular blade slipped through the armoured carapace like butter the bright green acidic blood poured from the gaping hole that remained behind. The acidic slurry began to almost immediately react with the alloys in the corridor and ineffectively against Lao'Taun's symbiotic armor that presently still mimicked the uniform and jacket. The vapors from the acid and the reacting metals quickly plume to fill the corridor as the massive monstrosity lowered itself from the ceiling, it's towering carapace armoured form and jointed appendages retreating back a few paces as it reared its self upwards releasing a high pitched squeal as it prepared for battle.
Several Minutes Later
Sakruagna Docking Facility
Magistra Docking Sector
The Hanger access doors opened to the corridor, revealing the obvious silhouette of the Celestial Liege. His duffle bag tossed in skidding along the floor towards where the rest of the cargo was stacked. When he moved forwards, the light shifted to reveal his battle-torn form. The marks of victory gashed brazen and muscular architecture marred by debris and soot. In places the symbiont had died and fallen off him. Hair soaked in toxic blood that dripped down his face and landed on the floor as he continued forwards creating small smouldering drips that created small geysers of steam in the metal floor. The emissary form had ruggedly withstood the pummelling, and had eventually manoeuvred him to victory. Each hard step quickened forwards [Myothe] as his electrogravitic field shifted, almost at a run he jammed his right foot downwards lifting off the floor of the bay and leaping up assisted by the field to land on the terminal platform where Satrina was.
He landed hard, Godsmourn still clutched in his right hand. From beneath soaked dark blue cowl his nebulous orbs reflected her image. His form still heaved, chest architecture tightening and relaxing which seemed to surge through his form. His eyes narrowed, caustic and steaming with the heated aftermath of victorious conflict. He didn't speak, facial expression stoic despite the fires within his gaze. He closed the distance between them in one long step, coming to almost touching her when he brought his lips to her ear, nothing but a deep hot breath escaped his lips. The violent sweetness of pheromone laced toxins dripping from the opened maw.
Satrina: The service port on the exterior of the DDV-I0X Vespula and the ships computer were prompted to link through the main logistics terminal, technical reconfiguration and engineering grids. Creating an inventory of what components, processors, thrusters, capacity units in conjunction with any replacement or out-of-date parts were needed. All Vespula Class T-IV craft had this port by the rear engineering hatch. Noticing on the main console that the overall status of the ships structural integrity was 22% which was considerably down especially when considering what the ‘Magistra Interceptors’ had been designed and intended for. Elongated digits tapping against the patina surface of the black mirrored tablet, scanning and thoroughly checking the interfaces-- running electronic and energy grid upgrades. Fitting the rigs ancillary current router then increasing the power grids and reducing the CPU which was required for all power upgrades.
“Database accessed, inventory of optimization upgrades are on standby for injection.” Replied the main AI terminal in decadent, deeply melancholic and disembodied voice, “Initiate upgrade transfer sequence.” Satrina spoke in a rather sudden suppressed tone awaiting the anticipation for the thrill, since usually typically if anything was going to malfunction; it was during the technical and logistic side of the advancements and implants not the actual improvements to the structure as well as the capacity volumes. Bringing up the blueprint of the craft, the multi-level structure displaying itself in hologramic dimensional proportions before her, “Transfer to DDV-10X to CCA-9N7, hull class of Tech III Arach-Class: Chernaya.” Chosen simply for its punching power abilities, the purpose being well set to motion and not to contemplations, focus on your one purpose.
“Initiating; please standby for recalibration of the Vespula cerebral scan settings as you are linked to DDV-10X and transfer to CCA-9N7.” Serenely replied the AI: Narea in its submissive and satin-seductive tones, as metal gears creaked and sprang to life with cautious and careful handling, dissecting a vessel wasn’t a brief procedure, all the modules were properly disengaged and offline, nanomechanically reforming the base structures to enforce the overall concept of its customized design. Inquisitively, the AI queried, “Would you like to view the current modules that are fitted to your Vespula while you wait?” Pondering for a moment, figure shifting in the feline lean of her form against the terminal, shifting to allow the partial front of coat to billow open revealing the tones of naked opalesque skin tones and curvilinear where light and shadows seductively lingered and bled to greet the other.
Thinking for a second before deciding, “Yes, beget the current list of modules both integral and those in the hangar; sort in descending order. If power grid need is equal to another, sort by CPU need in descending order.” Visual lists appearing with defined clarity in the frontal lobes of her psyche, infused through the stored memory of the actual interceptor itself. This time, however, the current integrated modules that were capable of being built-in to a hull class of the Scorpion designed fighter-craft were displayed. Divisions being scanned and modified section by section, scans sweeping down in rapid flashes of verdant and vermillion hues, those which came online and those which went offline in order to be adjusted and modulated.
The listed units and components incorporated were not limited to just: high tracking frigate guns – shield hardeners and darning – combat drones – armor hardeners and rapid restoration – warp core stabilizers (decreasing considerably the chance of being jammed coming out of warping) – warp core disruptors (which do the opposite to jamming) – saturation fields – shield boosters – MWD Afterburner – sensor booster – EM|Thermal damage reflectors – FTL Sequence scramblers – directional scanners – ECM modules 3-4 – Energy Neutralizing Battery – Sensor dampening. The prototype cloaking device (possible for the above to move at full speed and warp around while cloaked even through the veils) about to be transferred by software uplink from the personal files of Satrina was exclusive and distinctive to her own designs.
“Initiate prototype cloaking modules. Fit the warp core stabilizer with an expanded probe launcher in preparation for a new installation. Uplink software: Crypsis—ChromatophoreXI.” Aiding in the transfiguration along with the expansion of the reconfiguration system which was required as well for the amount of data being inaugurated, “Confirmed. Modifying current fitting of Vespula DDV-10X to Chernaya CCA-9N7; this process should take 2 hours 45 minutes and 39 seconds including system scans and analysis.” Just before the initial technical process and sequences had been completed, “All technical processes have been successful. Sequences initiated and integrated. Please Standby.” AI:Narea, with an elegant austere, her voice resonated throughout the hangar, lights flickering to the insipidness of dimensionless lighting indicating that internal configurations were currently active within the hangar.
Energetic vibrations synchronizing with the vibrant industrious whorl of the #514 MG-SS biocybernetic terminals; like the hum of wasps, it carried throughout the chamber in ceaseless waves of pulsating emanations. Burnished burning lanterns turning to watch the VDU monitors closely as the streams of mathematical encryptions flooded the screens, loading into the correct nodes and units. Eyes focused with direct scrutiny over the Vespula’s current fitting, codex equations flashing across peripheral vision... “Central processors synapses, prepare for neuronal encoding.” Reiterant ringing, closing eyes at the initial flooding sensations that surged throughout, “Transfer control systems to code: 71X9R7-28E-34Z1-6L once all sequences have been activated.” Spectral harmonies shifted through the drone like resonation of the ‘Atemporal HiveMind’ conglomerating now with a low escalating cacophonous ritualistic heartbeat. Ghostly voices of the vestals haemorrhaging from every confined cold and shadowy fissure within the building— coiling... caressing... coercing.
The clomp of his boots on the aesthetic polished floor, the heady misted bouquet of viscid, caustic with a hint of coppery fragrances, only the harbingers of his presence sent an array of elucidations through the attentive mind and the heightened senses of her own sanguine raptures. There was something however ‘different’ in the regularity, tempo and stride that shook the very foundations of the Yughoshi. Both figures illumined in the sullen crimson light and the looming of darkness where chaotic masses of the hival mind swarmed throughout the very vein. ‘The Celestial Architect’ whose very contours were tainted with the nightmarish menace of the ichors he had slain. “Transfer module and thruster control of Chernaya CCA-9N7. Pilot data process BioEncryption signature |bio-key user:| Xae'Za'afiel Sheitânii-Khunzag |alias:| Satrina Eitan-Kiri |gender:| female |species:| Z'ash'cherian -- Saatthan decent |pilot authorization code:| 71X9R7-28E-34Z1-6L. Dock verification #514 MG-SS. After sequence has been completed inform the Umarian District Flight Control and the Yughoshi Chanyosa Traffic Control of data updates. Prepare reconstruction bay once modification has been fully finalised and confirmed.”
Unswayed in a tone that was reverberant through the caverns of the soul. More than aware as the distance betwixt herself and Lao’Taun came to an abrupt close, however, Satrina did not shift nor weaken in the insinuation of darker things nor untested to make a careless riposte. An arrival flanked by breath and sword, alongside his stature behind where Satrina stood that brought barely any space to separate. Her expression holding the picturesque allure of a fugitive face veiling all that was aspired... ”Memory clings closer for the perished sun, the blood of wounded dignity that stains your sleeves like the dead leaves of autumn adrift on the cold breath of winter. By you I am betrayed, to all these scathing memories”, speech hardly more than a whisper, failing on a mournful cadence almost inaudible to the perceptions.
“All commands have been entered into the system, awaiting completion confirmations. All data modules have been update will notify all both Flight Controls of upgrades. Will provide reports on completion of all charges.” Eerie dialogues of the AI’s dialogue pierced and reflected the pliancy of humanity's misery, along with its burdens of a phantoms vain desire. Lao’Taun, standing directly behind her with Godsmourn to the right, and terminals directly in front, there was little place to go (at least tangible and physical to the flesh that rendered most to the languid tedium of encounter). Heat of bellicose infused breath playing along the bare arch of throat, caressing down the lengths where elegance defined that of aromatics in opiate fragrance of natural designs. Enraged exhalation with sharpening tips, shuddering a little not out of fear or any preconceived meanderings other than her own mechanisms for subtle manipulations which enabled to press slightly back against him, eyelids fluttered, and Satrina gave him a brief and almost furtive glance.
Violence mixed with saccharine intoxication, apocrine glands; the scent of outside the range of conscious detection via olfactory nerves, detected by sultry musky odour that tapered on the heightened senses of her particular species. But not overly prone to the subtle methods of enticement, entrapment or seductions utilizing scent as no doubt many had been, it was simply like the scent of a rose to the Z'ash'cherian . Nonetheless, there was the anathemic muscularity of strength, power and the aroma’s of a fresh kill that certainly worked wonders to the appeal. Cerise apertures curved into a sedate smirk, that soon faded rather quickly as the AI chimed back in with a relayed message from the Yughoshi Chanyosa Traffic Control, instantly playing it through the hangar comms.
To: The Dark Orchid, Imperial Concubine
From: Yughoshi Chanyosa Traffic Control
Re: Approach Contact 764-Delta
Your elegance, an unidentified starship is on approach. All recorded data is being transmitted with this message. Please advise instruction.
An exquisite little moue of disgust traversed scarlet lips, viewing the data with a delicate roll of the eyes—and pondering how interesting things could be getting or disastrous, depending on the action, reaction and perceptions of things.
▌ To: Yughoshi Chanyosa Traffic Control
From: The Dark Orchid, Imperial Concubine
Re: Approach Contact 764-Delta
Signature and identity confirmed. Envoy to the Sakruagna Docking Facility, Magistra Docking Sector. Please inform Cyan Nightbane that all shields and weaponry must be deactivated and offline, and that clearance will only authorize a shuttle or craft of similar proportions to dock, as this is a militant zone and not a fucking holiday resort. Weaponry and shield deactivation is not a request but an ordered compliance that will not be wavered in regards to non UAR and Magistra vessels. I will ensure an escort awaits his arrival. ▌
Lao'Taun:
The only more prestigeous role than designing a starship, especially a warship is the effective ability to command one. To mold and shape a technological behemoth that would wield power in the name of the Raquamothla was noteworthy to say the least - words never formed though within the silence. Charged potentials, like those released within the explosions that had been witnessed at Ayenee seemed to be fueled upon a march smaller scale, a burning unfathomable urge to consume and devour created a tension, tightly strung within the deepest of guts. The smoldering embers of battle reignited with the sparks of desire and lust. He pressed forwards, to close the distance between her and him in a single forceful and brazen movement guided without the boring chatter of expectation and proposition to mean to force her up against the console.
The warmth of flesh and silk as she pressed back against him, while luxurious it only tempted violence. The assassination attempt had left a feeling of urgency, the pressing resolve to which he was known to get the affairs of his rule in quick order before further liberties could be taken by the isolated pocket of supporters of a growing concern, Minori's warning didn't need further confirmation of an actual meeting anymore. [The Dark Minstrel] The sweet aromatic scent of venom tinged his breath, potent neurotoxins intermixed with the arosing cocktail of MDM-like compounds that made up one of his more potent of chemicals mixed with his saliva. Hot, purely asthetic breaths washed from him in an unnatural rhythm, as his lips barely scathed the side of her neck, the points of retractable fangs showing as he leaned in. [Vesper] The silent link laid silent, but emotion and power surged through it in pulsations of demand and allure.
Gashes along his chest and side became more exposed as the symbiont's damaged areas continued to flake away. It allowed the warm blood-like streams to flow freely, and with her form pressed against his the streams with surely make contact with the flawless pale of her flesh. [Decadent Eucharist] the blackish-purple liquid bubbled and gurgled as it flowed, hissing popping as it's caustic streams sought to burn and entice nerve endings with the sweet exotic spectra of pain should it be permitted free flow off him and down the course of the back her thighs.
Left hand grabbed for flesh, in a robust, commanding yet lustful manner. Each handful of breast and then rump done so as if he wished to devour her. He made these moves charged with victory, a sense of force and domination. He had set to claim her. A woman actually worth claiming, a woman who was more effective within war and made saucy bitches like those chained to thrones appear as trash within the eyes of the Celestial Luminary. He had slain the monstrosity who had been sent to remove him and now he sought his prize, toned and potent form pressing against her with ardency, his lips spread apart, toxin dripping fangs bound for her neck. He knew she was resistance and while unable to be laid to peace, such chemicals would undoubtedly still bring havoc and desire to paramount levels.
His right hand still gripped upon godsmourn, blunt flat of the blade brought to rest it's cold metal against the exposed flesh beneath the rise of her breasts.
Even as he moved, teams belonging to the Hand of Lao'Taun closed on the facility. The response, the hype about the failed attempt on his life was as far from his interests as they could come. Unlike with Xantlicha he didn't disable Swarm or Mythoe, his weaponization remained. It was evident as fluxuations within the electrogravitic field began to short and drain the console he had her pressed against.
Satrina: The
Yughoshi... when evening heavens usually divided to lashings of black
rivulet and tongue; when gentle songs of darkness procured, schismatic
and fervent to the tremors of expectancy that murmur longingly to the
mantles of desire. These things here were not so. When self-professed
quiet-types harp over aversions, and the woes of the heart and other
lesser frailties spilled foetid appraisals over dark shores of solace.
Silences of golden rule grew tarnished with evident contradiction, and
the caustic odour of endless inconsistencies blessed the wrist of the
harbinger. Rendered sightless by one’s own faculty or lack thereof and
the aptitude for denial for deeper-seated things—like perfumes and
ecstasy?
Perhaps
feeble things such as perfumes and ecstasy, but both were beheld with a
sick darkness. It plumed through the rising jagged teeth and menagerie
of shadows as they rose triumphantly. Where darkness was cleft with
plethoric flames that pulsated in the whirls and waves of energetic
vibrations, already present in the stoic corners and tapering the walls
of the hanger. A whiplash of wintriness... for true wickedness has
neither eyes nor use for love. There was an accompaniment to this
austere sensation traversed, not just the closure of emotions nor the
mind in its calculating foray.
A
grandiose and maleficent kindle, wreathed in the seductive allure of
beauty, comparable to notes of discord-- stricken razors or skeletal
blades upon strings of cured, weeping flesh. Black, caustic ichors
dripped down the curves of Satrina’s statuette physique, toxins that no
less would have caused death and liquefaction to all of lesser breeding,
fortitudes and immunities. A nefarious and erotic spur that neither
mind nor love had met in regard for higher things outside of loyalty,
for sure, that was not an invisible commodity of allegiance.
Fetid
sensuality crept over flesh, in floods of decadence and death spells,
embraces made of web and whisper fell away to odious eloquence. Trails
of lust, the forgotten sense, of touch and spar, to neither dutifully
fence away; with a shriek or bittersweet whimper. Sword placed beneath
breasts and above the delicate decline diaphragm, the shadows all leaped
about her in the gossamers of their charnel secretions. “Oh!”... Satrina
thought. Chilly voice rose and fell within the mind like the
undulations of swarms seeking to smother the moon in devouring flights
across the firmament of nocturnity...
“It is not desire they get fed, it is hate they wish to have… called: revenge.” Blood,
reminiscent to ancient ominous sunsets and imperial wines, in libations
poured over skin from moonstone cups from the fleshless hands of
spectral servitors. How they so lovingly lapped, drinking, feasting on
those polluted waters, and through the course of that evening all that
had been accomplished was disgust. Satrina beyond acquiescence and she
wasn’t about to endure it. Reverent fantasmagoric pomps, deferring
murmurs of such resurrections of sentiment from what should have
remained ‘dead’ or at least clandestine to the cynical regrets of other
places and other lives.
Rosewater
cheeks took on a phantom flush, voidic orbs sparkles with the gleam
similar to mortuary tapers. Chrysalid and deathlike, perceptions and
heightened senses loomed, whose tongues licked the air resembling
fleeting petals of whetted nuances-- analogous to tints of fluttering
obsidian and crystalline... stirred to intermingle with the austere
rivulets of sin. Akin to a naked flower as it unfolded with a fervent
arching sigh. Illusory grace seeped in malice, permeating the air with
unique fragrant desires alien to the senses of most.
Multitudes
of rusted souls corroded above the tempest, flaking to dust before
blinded eyes and trailing down, only to fall deep into the abyss. Bathed
in lust and violence, a heart not revived enough to embrace his wake,
nor succumb to the drowning of those emanations like the weaker species
of women with their colourless petals reeking of sex and cheap perfume. A
perverse adoration, incontestably... ”There are terrifying
depths in our natures, so it seems, something that only our kind can
truly ever know. But if you need to place weapon towards me, it would
serve you wise to promptly apply it.”
Shifting
slightly in position which brought right shoulder turned in toward and
head to place cheek closer to his lips and also nigrescent eyes cast
askance to look upon Lao’Taun."The apparitions of beauty that
were once held aloft by powerful tyrants have always been deluded to
empires. Fallen? No, but certainly quiet! Pamper these fickle embryos of
upstarts and usurps? ...and in the miasmic whispers of confusion, found
only in the cracked and brittle arms of some effigy, vacant and
displaced....” A smirk ventured across Satrina’s apertures, weaving words both splendorous and pertinacious.
“Therein
he crawls, vague and solitary, for he is truly alone-- in the absence
of imperial requisition. He loves not, for he is, by his very nature and
existence, unrequited; perchance never truly satisfied, ever?” Rhetorical
questions that were not designed at all to be answered, but instead to
twist within the heart and mind nails and thorns, utilizing bitter words
naissance by poisonous wine. To some of lesser intellects, speech was
naught but a trivial gallantry, but to the cunning mind, speech was
wrought with consummate sorceries and immeasurable allure.
“Whereas
she has quite had her fill of it, amongst the vulgar egos, the foolish
and treacherous with false honours and loyalties-- and I am not just
talking about those within the Magistra." At the least of
response, shadow-mobled flames to coerce the senses, the eroticism of
violence... and like a sweet narcotic to one such as her, in turn it
spurred her own rejoinder to rouse the shadowy pyres. Impulses surged
throughout at the stimulus of burning and flesh corrosion—it seemed with
a fugitive uncapturable fire in infernal pursuit. But too with the
release of his caustic flow over once flawless flesh came other
offerings.
Roused
accolades of Satrina’s own salutations of acidic vitae [Caustic Blood:
Sluga''t Wuna] that would indeed return such toxic blessings to
smouldering libertines of their, bond. A virulent hiss escaping twixt
rubiescent embouchements to match the sizzling effervesce of flesh
splitting to the bone. Sweet pain that brought a ‘flushed’ twinge and a
feverish hell-fire throughout Satrina’s central nervous system. But,
just like all things, pain passes and turns into the dull throb of yet
another aftermath; and this one had all the potential to end similar to
all the others.
”How
tardily the torpid heart remembers pain, and affection itself, nothing
more than aureate stars far away on seas refulgent with darkness!” Capricious
was the many-needled coldness of words, all had been for nothing, all
served a purpose that she knew would fall like the ashes of worlds
crushed beneath his boot heel—for that was the whole purpose of them, as
they wove their intricacies around other spheres for one should never
misjudge a voidic weaver let alone one of her capabilities... “Would you my-- silence have? Than have it.” It was a ‘simple’ question, the only one spoken that gave signal to be answered by response of his own.
It
bore no inkling of revenge, no alarming or threatening verses; nothing
at all to indicate uneasiness, fear or brutalizing agony that would have
already had most screaming in their torments. All it conjured was a
dead unnerving calmness as the lights dimmed and flickered from the
massive fluxes of energies that dance and weaved about the hangar and
their forms. Impressionable amounts of forces and influences... neither
one could ignore as she stepped more towards the weapon than against
the muscular foundations of his form.
OOC
Credits: Credit to Lao'Taun aka Drew for this roleplay, regardless of how short-lived it was. Always a pleasure to write at your side. And as you quote often.... "Forever Forwards"
