Virulent: The Eastern side of the city was predominately technologists, and the
coming settlers who had come from the former Chrystalian Republic now that they
had fallen under the rule of the true Chrystalis. The Western Half of the city
however, the last place where the sun's piercing rays had reached after the
magnificent towers of Castle Ayenee VI at the center of the City and the Portal
District, where critical connections back to Ayenee, Tenaria, and the other
Olde realms had been opened to allow for easy travel to what had now been
described as the new frontier, the lands of opportunity - Ayemvu. New The
Western side of New Ayenee bore the tapestries of the Lorenzian Empire, and its
powerful allies that had savagely pounded a path across the old realms which
had ended with their Emperor's rise to Chancellor.
Virulent: Towering Spires of Temples devoted to the Esprarthiquayito and the
mages who had solemnly swore their lives to serving the Manifestient and his
workings since long before even the first Castle Ayenee had been built by
Varsinax. Looming barracks, stables, and armories thinned out into the military
yards that were still flooding with inbound soldiers from the old realms
sprawled outwards towards the traditional rise of A-frame homes and the
spiraling dance of smoke from their chimneys that scented the air of
maple-wood, and cherry. The dark places of the expectant Darkbanes laid
outwards towards the frontiers, joining the dirt roadways that lead towards
Ferrai and the infamous Iron Dove Tavern and Inn owned by the Eitan himself.
Virulent: The words of one Chrystalian Nira, the late Aestaesys of Chrystalia had
given birth to the thing he had threatened for decades, the beginning of mass immigrations
from the old realms to the new, bearing conquers such as the Darkbane. Their
Queen, Atra, already at work within the realms along with her legendary Warlord
Malice. The massive sprawling metropolis, the jewel and capital of the realms
Ayenee had been reborn, right in the middle of the realms that had once been
forsaken as savage and uninhabitable. Even some of the rears of legends such as
Armand DeLeon and Varsinax himself had managed their way through the portals to
the new lands.
Virulent: The faint rays of the sun filtered through the panes of stain-glass arcs reflected in the polished stone floors of the Castle. The footfalls of the guard, the crackle of fires within the fireplaces were all the echoing murmurs from which one could draw sentiment. Sentiment that a Chancellor now turned Emperor found himself cultivating as he looked out the massive window out over the Eastern side of the City, watching as cranes swung to carry beams up the sides of one of the buildings still under construction as construction mecha acted as guides to ensure that the heavy beams didn't smash into one of the electronic billboards that was advertising the 'First Landing' concert that was being held at the Ryuusei Ampitheatre by Asune Thunder, one of the Chrystalian bands whose lead vocalist was Yuurei Daithilus, the son of Tisou and Reina.
Virulent: Olde Lorenz had been left in good hands, the fashioned works of the
Eitans that had never traversed to the new realms. Adrin had yet to visit the
planet that had been so rightfully named after the magnificent Empire he had
built beyond the portals. It would come in time, when New Ayenee was fully
settled and the things which needed to come to fruition did so. He bore little
regret in his life, save for the two instances that were enough for one man to
carry - and both revolved around the single Achilles heel of most, the heart.
He had come a long way from the sobbing mess that had curled up at the base of
Kendra's grave on Killiper, he had come a long way from the single mistake
which would not even be named in his thoughts, one that needed to now be
undone.
Virulent: It was just one of many thoughts that loomed as the last of the mist
had been seared away by the daylight, the automated tinting of the western
district windows darkened to harbor the precious children of Unya within. But,
they were not alone -- humans had come, tired of the silence of Varsinax and
the Darkfire, they too wanted a piece of the new frontier. Many others followed
as well, the melting pot of technology and tradition, of races that were near
myths within their own right -- they had been dreamed, wide awake.
Virulent: The place was wondrous, the magnificent city was the heart of a new
movement and a new age. It however was not the place for the meeting which had
awaited the mere droning on of decades that had passed since the last, decades
that had been spent preparing. The story itself, the rise -- it was the lure,
the fashioned mechanic that would be like honey in the water to draw forth the
Queen of Darkness, surely she could not allow such a thing to go unchecked. Not
within Ayenee, no, that would be too tempting to the poorly orchestrated
attempts that had left his poor miserable scouts twitching. Within the special
place within space and time, there in which the construct had been fashioned
for the previous and now the current meeting. Hope, the marred makeup of the
Harlot of Torment was something that was now spoken of freely as if it was the
solution to all of life's ails -- solutions that were truly handled by those of
a higher nature, like them who could truly shape the workings of fate.
Virulent: Within that place, that isolated and ever shifting pocket, a replica of
the Iron Dove awaited them. Two glasses of merlot sat waiting on the bartop,
the door open along with it the path in which would be followed by only one.
Had it been anyone else, it would of been like the Venus Flytrap, set to
consume the bones of the less fortune taffard who had made the effort only to
fall to the tyrant within. This meeting however, represented the bonds of
somethings which even war and the fall of realms that could not touch - two of
the only surviving that could even be seen as equals.
Virulent: Within, the complex was made simple - visage as always, muscular form
hidden beneath the blackened stretch of synthetic fabric and niranium plate and
atlanteum meshing, accented in the armlets, gauntlets and pauldrons which
marked it as one of the lesser armors produced within Lorenz. Military-style
overcoat hung ankle length, which wavered slowly back and forth as he moved to
send the corked bottle of wine sliding down the bar to have it come to a halt
between the two already poured glasses. This summons, the mere second part of
that which had already lured his counterpart to the new realms was the simplest
parts -- it was time to talk, time to put the pieces on the board and expedite
the vast plans of opportunistic venture which would sate the longing hearts for
battle and enterprise. A fortune upon which that these, entities had thrived
upon and made a game of sorts in its own sick way. One which had left even them
weary of it, and it was no secret. So much had been born within secret - love,
war, prosperity and the thrill of life itself. Opportunities now knocked, a
chance that unity would be as mutually beneficial as separation, if not more.
Cards that had been held since his scouts had first come to the realms to toy
with the locals.
Virulent: It was insanely uncanny how different the true being was from the
facsimiles that had been made, a man who had learned to abhor things such as
the jingle of the beaded strands which hung from the hips of the well dressed
whores that had conquered so many of his counterparts in the old realms, the
one who had attempted her play upon him had been exiled without so much of a
second glance as he grew tired of the bother and annoyance of being forced to
listen to the clucking of a hen -- something one of his lesser, Nira could of
learned and utilized that would of perhaps kept the man alive. Oh the bitches
had come, they had tried -- but he had never given them more than a chuckle
between moving his legions across the realms, for a single reason -- he had
learned his lessons decades before within the halls of Ayon, the place where
the games had become - the twists of words and shadows, that now finally could
bear resolution in the light of opportunity.
Virulent: He also differed from them in thinking, Adrin was known for his
diplomacy, while at the same time his hand was heavy, and bore the sword rather
easily. His Wyvrenblades had left a mark on so many royal families, it was just
shy of the games that Nira had played with the hearts of those who had followed
the Regime. The opinions of the Eitan varied so widely some even had believed
him to be more than a single man. Tales of butchering, genocidal rampages and
twisted schemes that had left enemies trembling in the wake of his sprawling
hordes conflicted with the cheers and love the people of Ayenee had for their
Chancellor who brought order in the shadow of Varsinax's foolish endeavors of
wine and women. That was there opinions, then there was his, his and the empty
waiting seat at the other glass that glanced to as he moved to stand center on
the service side of the bar to his own.
Virulent: This fancy woven construct, within the shifting emptiness of some abyss
was perhaps the beginning of the end, the place where fate would play its hand
and shape the things to come. The Manifestient, sipped from his glass, his
crystalline eyes watching the 'door', awaiting that solitary moment before the
masks were bound to come out, the walls to go up and the next set of plays were
to be called.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
The banners snapped and crackled in the harsh arctic winds which howled,
gnashing around the blackened swarm of conjured fiends. Horrors not even the
sickest of imaginations could ever create in frenzied bloody hand-painted
portraits scribbled upon stone asylum walls- haunted figures crafted by the
vilest and most twisted of minds ever to have stained the lands with their
vicious insanities. Not even hell itself had creatures to the likes of these,
hankering for the thick, crimson ichors of all that fell within their path.
This was a force that would not bend itself to any mortal or material law,
where evil even had ethics of attack on those who inspired its wrath, rules set
down over the land of men long before man even walked the earth, where silent
guardian sat crouched on the spires of conscience and guilt with golden
tridents. A millennia where evil itself had been chained to the wrists of the
gilded ones, 'The Venom of God’ (her father) himself was even thought to be
beautiful a moment before he had been cast down, rebelling against the only law
the universe abided- chaos existed but only behind closed doors.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Armies that had marched these same beaten tracks usually left those pagans to their lives, the mundane existence of toiling over lands to grow their crops. Produce to sell just to feed the starving children tugging at dirtied shirts or sullied aprons for a crumb of stale bread. For the shepherds who brought in the sheep on the evening tide only to have those defenceless lambs slaughtered by the coming of wolves. This was no different, no prejudice granted by taxes, riches or land; it was barely a target simply because it was in her way-- she whom walked with the darkness moved naught for no mortal, immortal or God; she was something far beyond this characterization of metaphor. Gathering masses rising behind her, goliaths silhouetted against the falling hues of burnt vermillion and cardinal august: lustrous colours bleeding out sacred golden filigrees of sunlight, snuffing the lands with behemothic shadows; as if to unlace the very light- akin to whore’s tattered gown then discover that she is not a natural blonde.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Tinting to hues more suitable for carnage for even the sky appeared as if it was rupturing by the might of those towering Goetic banners bearing the sigils of death and disease for with it came a new era of pestilence- one never seen by the eyes of man or Gods. A new dawn was rising, a dawn that would only be suffocated by its own bitter end for this was no longer about the fight, this was now all about destruction; the reversal of life and everything that stood between it, purgatory, heaven and hell (should one believe in such things, for Atra no longer did). The barriers no longer held her at bay like they once had for they had grown frail by the sinister deeds of mankind and those left behind on the planar spheres... those whom declared faithfulness and loyalty to her only to later stamp their own marks of shame on her milky white flesh. Nor was this any longer about payment of dues long overdue, revenge or retribution, a soul had to possess emotion to carry with them such heavy crosses. Let them all play their own Nazarene, bringing to themselves salvation for it would be her hand holding the blade to their throats to welcome them.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Chiselled chin turning indistinctly to the East, no commands needed to be spoken to demand her legions to divide, a single thought implanted into the mainframe of her minions psyches, informing them to take the villages and cities in every quarter of the watchtowers. Since her new armies worked on the identical instinct of insect colonies, a single mind, thousands persistently communicating at the same time relentlessly without pause or moments thought. A formulated plan constant in their minds, to feed and gather food without rest or slumber- and it was much the same to destroy other colonies that stood in opposition; it was simple in strategy: insect against man, the same as it had always been, though of course with an odd difference. Evolution played its hand, with a little help from one who held absolutely no regard for nature’s physics for it had always been about the change from one predator to another, it was not her fault she had softened at the hands of time, Ayenee, as infertile as she was.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Having only returned from a somewhat, interesting meeting with the Overlord, Varsinax himself- of proposals, promises and ‘gifts’, even that had dispersed the delusion of clinging to the false hope of glory and re-creation. Silence, was a bittersweet tool to be used and abused when Atra saw fit, but respects at been paid of her summoning, despite the frivolities of son and King. A new plan had been set to motion, that these lands were not so lawless and transient, instead pliable like clay to the hands of the sculpture, and death could come slowly or swiftly, even for the dead in quiet crypts to the agnostic. However, it was the non-conformer who would perish this day; a choice was not granted to roll the dice, to do or die. Their blades of hate grinned with macabre silver smiles in the puce liminal hour- where even the skies ruptured to the slaughter. Reflecting every single droplet of blood as it trickled along razor-edged teeth; maddened from the mayhem laced in broken bodies and streams of inflamed vermillion. Only one of twisted mind could marvel in such scenes of destruction and death- only one of like-mind to her majesty could ever comprehend the magnitude of intention behind mass genocide; the method in the madness... the honey as it is to the bee, and so too the sting.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Beckon they may with words, trinkets and whispers of her name to appease her unsated thirst- whatever intentions they thought she had they would only be gravely disappointed at Atra’s lack of assiduousness in riposting the favour of acknowledgment. The quietening was always the most disturbing sound of stillness, how it eventually decreased into nothing but that unnerving ‘dead’™ passivity. Calm before the storm. It was already apparent that she had the Ayenee Lords and Barons quivering in her boots only to be met by the vehemence of Malice, cowering before him like snivelling whelps before severed from existence by ‘Fiendwrath’... thrown to the ire of snapping brazier flames and the hungry void which awaited. Atra was yet to formulate a thought on how she perceived those who had managed by the graces of whatever Gods they clumsily prayed to.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: In time they would all fade and flutter away like the stars. The presence of Atrox brought nothing but a stoic redundant snicker, always playing and weaving about in the shadows only to produce butterflies and pipe dreams. She knew he would not bother her, no less now he sought easier conquests like he had done so in the past. At least now he would pester some other indolent, dull creature and leave her to bigger and darker futures without his stale essence and infantile memory. Just as Pandora had wiped him from the name of Darkbane, Atra erased him from reminiscence. The acknowledgement of Pandora’s favour in regards to seducing his frail loyalty, removing him from Atra’s affections didn’t serve a kind penance in the evisceration of Pandora- the DEAD Goddess was forced to death-kneel to bemoan the severed Achilles' heel that was the leftover scraps her clan. What better justice could be relished than forcing one to admit to their ineffectual failures, a disappointed mother wounded like a beast by the hunter before being ended brutally by blade and gauntlet... the fact still brought a smile to the cerise lips of Atra.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Attention snapping back to the forces marching before, scattering themselves to the quarters of the country marked by blazing fires and the eruption of screams. Already the slaughter had started, and there Atra was high upon a ridge enjoying the fruits already sampled. The black leather of her attire constricting, moaning like a lover in conquest at the turn of svelte thigh and slender waist; knees digging in deeper against the carved pelt of her mounts saddle while feeling the warmth of the beast’ s inner fire permeating through the thick covering of armor and adornment. Gloved hands tightening around the studded leather of reigns, pulling them back only to compel the mounts head to rise as a copious tendril of anxious exhalation burst into the oncoming coolness of the descending gloaming. Lashing wreathes of onyx danced in whip-song round the frame of her pale visage, thriving over her diminutive shoulders like gorgon-vipers striking out to assail the elements in rebelliousness-- flaying over those feminine curves like thousands of tongue to caress the pelage of black leather tourniquet.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: First glance, Atra wanted to appreciate the scenery unfurling before her- how those massive giants trampled everything in its wake, an abysmal tsunami of darkness, ascending only to crush in one colossal siege. The cordons were no protection, giving them nothing of salvation or hope for it all would be crushed at the hands of her soldiers. Even the sickly sweet echoes of bones snapping, veins ruptured exploded into the sounds of carnage. Crackling fire, screams of mercy brought little but music to her ears. It was only then that Atra decided to grace the pleading with her ravenesque wings, or the cries of children reaching out to their dead or dying mothers. Indiscriminately they would all perish, and with it the bodies would be strung from every tree, mountain crag and even along the blood stained roads leading into the other cities... all would know who this realm was ruled by pure evil and unbiased chaos.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Into the hellish roar her steed plundered, hooves assaulting the earth in heavy thuds, raping the soil of all its nutrients as it extracted all life-force and energy at its gait. Black hocks pounding only to rise and leap over the falling barricades which surrounded the outside of the village, burning to silvery ash then whisked away by the teeth of grinning winds. Right hand unsheathing the decorated, elaborate sword from her side, artistically sweeping it from side to side as Atra carved her path through the multitudes of faltering men that dared stand against them in meagre attempt to liberate themselves. At least they attempted to fight against them, losing or not, most just crumbled and fell. For those able to defend themselves against the skilled blade of this warbeasts and soldiers, they were captured. Armies had to be replenished and in doing this, Atra’s numbers would never falter. One soldier defeated, another ten stood in his place. If they were not good enough to fight, then any survivors were impaled along the cities beaten tracks, to serve as a reminder that once what was faltered... had since returned.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Cruel apertures blossomed at the splatters of vitae against them and her features, along with the banners of bloodied conquests, so too did her attire glimmer with that sheen of painted glory. Enjoyment of smashing babies against the rocky walls of the village, to stringing them high from the masts of steeples so they dangled and swung like perverted chimes in the wind so that it whistled through their busted mouths and through the beaten facial fractures- infants made the best affect on the hearts of heroes. O’ how it made their hearts bleed in sorrow, it was those tears that Atra drank from stained burnt skulls while they spat curses before being fed to the quivering spawn of failed experiments. Black blobs of liquid that oozed along the ground, massive leeches whose mouths constantly demanding to be fed, many rows of jagged teeth grinding against the limbs of victims while they squirmed in terrifying agonies. Atra’s collection of insignificant pets never ended, particularly where the corrupted imagination was concerned.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Armies moved onwards, harvesting all in the path of its capacity, moving across the countryside like a sick abattoir of sinful fetishes. Ruze in its command now as she broke away from the mass of marching feet and pounding of bones against shields, they knew of the purpose first initialized at the attack and it had not changed nor differed in its reason. A single phrase implanted in his mind from the mind , a simple command, one that not even an animal or insect could confuse itself with. “Extinguish ALL life, turn the skies to black, rape the earth, and turn the mountains into dust. Do this in the name of The Dark Goddess. Do it in the name of Atra’Lamia!” With that, she snapped at the reigns of her mount- directing it towards the direction of East, returning back to the Temple. Hooves thundering beneath her taut form slightly held from the comfort of saddle, knees bent with bodice clinging to the arched nape of her juggernaut mount. Reigns held tight in her grasp while waterfalls of melanoid rubied obsidian flowed behind her sleek, sinuous structure. Attentions resting on the bristling of feathered ravenesque wings. Old friends always return fast, never to the tainted walls of another’s parlour- perchance that too would be a lesson drifted to the ears and eyes of those who chose to watch from afar or some far-flung star; from time to time she felt his eyes burn upon her form, actions and deeds.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Armies that had marched these same beaten tracks usually left those pagans to their lives, the mundane existence of toiling over lands to grow their crops. Produce to sell just to feed the starving children tugging at dirtied shirts or sullied aprons for a crumb of stale bread. For the shepherds who brought in the sheep on the evening tide only to have those defenceless lambs slaughtered by the coming of wolves. This was no different, no prejudice granted by taxes, riches or land; it was barely a target simply because it was in her way-- she whom walked with the darkness moved naught for no mortal, immortal or God; she was something far beyond this characterization of metaphor. Gathering masses rising behind her, goliaths silhouetted against the falling hues of burnt vermillion and cardinal august: lustrous colours bleeding out sacred golden filigrees of sunlight, snuffing the lands with behemothic shadows; as if to unlace the very light- akin to whore’s tattered gown then discover that she is not a natural blonde.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Tinting to hues more suitable for carnage for even the sky appeared as if it was rupturing by the might of those towering Goetic banners bearing the sigils of death and disease for with it came a new era of pestilence- one never seen by the eyes of man or Gods. A new dawn was rising, a dawn that would only be suffocated by its own bitter end for this was no longer about the fight, this was now all about destruction; the reversal of life and everything that stood between it, purgatory, heaven and hell (should one believe in such things, for Atra no longer did). The barriers no longer held her at bay like they once had for they had grown frail by the sinister deeds of mankind and those left behind on the planar spheres... those whom declared faithfulness and loyalty to her only to later stamp their own marks of shame on her milky white flesh. Nor was this any longer about payment of dues long overdue, revenge or retribution, a soul had to possess emotion to carry with them such heavy crosses. Let them all play their own Nazarene, bringing to themselves salvation for it would be her hand holding the blade to their throats to welcome them.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Chiselled chin turning indistinctly to the East, no commands needed to be spoken to demand her legions to divide, a single thought implanted into the mainframe of her minions psyches, informing them to take the villages and cities in every quarter of the watchtowers. Since her new armies worked on the identical instinct of insect colonies, a single mind, thousands persistently communicating at the same time relentlessly without pause or moments thought. A formulated plan constant in their minds, to feed and gather food without rest or slumber- and it was much the same to destroy other colonies that stood in opposition; it was simple in strategy: insect against man, the same as it had always been, though of course with an odd difference. Evolution played its hand, with a little help from one who held absolutely no regard for nature’s physics for it had always been about the change from one predator to another, it was not her fault she had softened at the hands of time, Ayenee, as infertile as she was.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Having only returned from a somewhat, interesting meeting with the Overlord, Varsinax himself- of proposals, promises and ‘gifts’, even that had dispersed the delusion of clinging to the false hope of glory and re-creation. Silence, was a bittersweet tool to be used and abused when Atra saw fit, but respects at been paid of her summoning, despite the frivolities of son and King. A new plan had been set to motion, that these lands were not so lawless and transient, instead pliable like clay to the hands of the sculpture, and death could come slowly or swiftly, even for the dead in quiet crypts to the agnostic. However, it was the non-conformer who would perish this day; a choice was not granted to roll the dice, to do or die. Their blades of hate grinned with macabre silver smiles in the puce liminal hour- where even the skies ruptured to the slaughter. Reflecting every single droplet of blood as it trickled along razor-edged teeth; maddened from the mayhem laced in broken bodies and streams of inflamed vermillion. Only one of twisted mind could marvel in such scenes of destruction and death- only one of like-mind to her majesty could ever comprehend the magnitude of intention behind mass genocide; the method in the madness... the honey as it is to the bee, and so too the sting.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Beckon they may with words, trinkets and whispers of her name to appease her unsated thirst- whatever intentions they thought she had they would only be gravely disappointed at Atra’s lack of assiduousness in riposting the favour of acknowledgment. The quietening was always the most disturbing sound of stillness, how it eventually decreased into nothing but that unnerving ‘dead’™ passivity. Calm before the storm. It was already apparent that she had the Ayenee Lords and Barons quivering in her boots only to be met by the vehemence of Malice, cowering before him like snivelling whelps before severed from existence by ‘Fiendwrath’... thrown to the ire of snapping brazier flames and the hungry void which awaited. Atra was yet to formulate a thought on how she perceived those who had managed by the graces of whatever Gods they clumsily prayed to.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: In time they would all fade and flutter away like the stars. The presence of Atrox brought nothing but a stoic redundant snicker, always playing and weaving about in the shadows only to produce butterflies and pipe dreams. She knew he would not bother her, no less now he sought easier conquests like he had done so in the past. At least now he would pester some other indolent, dull creature and leave her to bigger and darker futures without his stale essence and infantile memory. Just as Pandora had wiped him from the name of Darkbane, Atra erased him from reminiscence. The acknowledgement of Pandora’s favour in regards to seducing his frail loyalty, removing him from Atra’s affections didn’t serve a kind penance in the evisceration of Pandora- the DEAD Goddess was forced to death-kneel to bemoan the severed Achilles' heel that was the leftover scraps her clan. What better justice could be relished than forcing one to admit to their ineffectual failures, a disappointed mother wounded like a beast by the hunter before being ended brutally by blade and gauntlet... the fact still brought a smile to the cerise lips of Atra.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Attention snapping back to the forces marching before, scattering themselves to the quarters of the country marked by blazing fires and the eruption of screams. Already the slaughter had started, and there Atra was high upon a ridge enjoying the fruits already sampled. The black leather of her attire constricting, moaning like a lover in conquest at the turn of svelte thigh and slender waist; knees digging in deeper against the carved pelt of her mounts saddle while feeling the warmth of the beast’ s inner fire permeating through the thick covering of armor and adornment. Gloved hands tightening around the studded leather of reigns, pulling them back only to compel the mounts head to rise as a copious tendril of anxious exhalation burst into the oncoming coolness of the descending gloaming. Lashing wreathes of onyx danced in whip-song round the frame of her pale visage, thriving over her diminutive shoulders like gorgon-vipers striking out to assail the elements in rebelliousness-- flaying over those feminine curves like thousands of tongue to caress the pelage of black leather tourniquet.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: First glance, Atra wanted to appreciate the scenery unfurling before her- how those massive giants trampled everything in its wake, an abysmal tsunami of darkness, ascending only to crush in one colossal siege. The cordons were no protection, giving them nothing of salvation or hope for it all would be crushed at the hands of her soldiers. Even the sickly sweet echoes of bones snapping, veins ruptured exploded into the sounds of carnage. Crackling fire, screams of mercy brought little but music to her ears. It was only then that Atra decided to grace the pleading with her ravenesque wings, or the cries of children reaching out to their dead or dying mothers. Indiscriminately they would all perish, and with it the bodies would be strung from every tree, mountain crag and even along the blood stained roads leading into the other cities... all would know who this realm was ruled by pure evil and unbiased chaos.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Into the hellish roar her steed plundered, hooves assaulting the earth in heavy thuds, raping the soil of all its nutrients as it extracted all life-force and energy at its gait. Black hocks pounding only to rise and leap over the falling barricades which surrounded the outside of the village, burning to silvery ash then whisked away by the teeth of grinning winds. Right hand unsheathing the decorated, elaborate sword from her side, artistically sweeping it from side to side as Atra carved her path through the multitudes of faltering men that dared stand against them in meagre attempt to liberate themselves. At least they attempted to fight against them, losing or not, most just crumbled and fell. For those able to defend themselves against the skilled blade of this warbeasts and soldiers, they were captured. Armies had to be replenished and in doing this, Atra’s numbers would never falter. One soldier defeated, another ten stood in his place. If they were not good enough to fight, then any survivors were impaled along the cities beaten tracks, to serve as a reminder that once what was faltered... had since returned.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Cruel apertures blossomed at the splatters of vitae against them and her features, along with the banners of bloodied conquests, so too did her attire glimmer with that sheen of painted glory. Enjoyment of smashing babies against the rocky walls of the village, to stringing them high from the masts of steeples so they dangled and swung like perverted chimes in the wind so that it whistled through their busted mouths and through the beaten facial fractures- infants made the best affect on the hearts of heroes. O’ how it made their hearts bleed in sorrow, it was those tears that Atra drank from stained burnt skulls while they spat curses before being fed to the quivering spawn of failed experiments. Black blobs of liquid that oozed along the ground, massive leeches whose mouths constantly demanding to be fed, many rows of jagged teeth grinding against the limbs of victims while they squirmed in terrifying agonies. Atra’s collection of insignificant pets never ended, particularly where the corrupted imagination was concerned.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Armies moved onwards, harvesting all in the path of its capacity, moving across the countryside like a sick abattoir of sinful fetishes. Ruze in its command now as she broke away from the mass of marching feet and pounding of bones against shields, they knew of the purpose first initialized at the attack and it had not changed nor differed in its reason. A single phrase implanted in his mind from the mind , a simple command, one that not even an animal or insect could confuse itself with. “Extinguish ALL life, turn the skies to black, rape the earth, and turn the mountains into dust. Do this in the name of The Dark Goddess. Do it in the name of Atra’Lamia!” With that, she snapped at the reigns of her mount- directing it towards the direction of East, returning back to the Temple. Hooves thundering beneath her taut form slightly held from the comfort of saddle, knees bent with bodice clinging to the arched nape of her juggernaut mount. Reigns held tight in her grasp while waterfalls of melanoid rubied obsidian flowed behind her sleek, sinuous structure. Attentions resting on the bristling of feathered ravenesque wings. Old friends always return fast, never to the tainted walls of another’s parlour- perchance that too would be a lesson drifted to the ears and eyes of those who chose to watch from afar or some far-flung star; from time to time she felt his eyes burn upon her form, actions and deeds.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
However, Atra knowing, one day all would live to regret, and die with
that regret garland around their throats like red roses. Atra’Lamia did not
need to observe that her companion was that of Uriel, or the murmured words
travelling on the unfurled winds of discord to her perceptions... the
earth-melded creature known as Adaghar. Another long acquired in the lands
of Aoyn many years before, long after the aftermath of the twilight wars, and
Ayenee left to its burnt crimson decay."...My Return... or
my artful seductions? Speak not of death precious Ayenee, unless you wish to
see death... for I bring you storms of discouragement” The words were not said
to any particular person or deity, but they certainly were ushered to any who
cared or dared to listen. Not words of a promise, but the oath of action.
Arriving at the black obsidian gates of the temple and instantly dismounting in
one fluid and graceful motion, dialogue uttered, distinctly feminine-
but held no real identity other than the cacophony of enchanted silver harps,
brushing harpy-wings on stone. For some it would be, strange, unnoticeable
while for an extreme select few, they would know who spoke them and whose
presence was within the temple raking armoured fingernails down the granite of
their tombs. A hint of manipulation here, a razor-adorned touches there, in the
shadows as they raked along facial contours. For now the focus was on the woman
striding into the temple with a direct purpose. Thorny-kisses, darkened wishes
and all would be revealed, in its due time. “Worlds of pain, stones and
graves, tombs and milestones. Skies of crimson, seas of blood... all but
ruins of the crumbled world you once knew.”
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Atra’s words melodious in lilt,
prompt and articulate- Choirs of
verses extending from the mass, implanting their decay towards the mind willing
to listen, willing to understand, willing to be silent; but hard to ignore, for
the first triad, when they sang, all universe motioned to silence. “What happens when you roses turn to thorns? Blood weaker than piss and
water painting a mark, a crest of shame. Who will you turn to when there is no
one left to turn to because I won't be there!" Halting instantly in
sauntered gait, slender ravenesque brow furrowing at he own words while left
hand clutched the parchment in death-grip. Nigrescent eyes closed in her halt. Allowing the sensation of the
cardinal salutations to sink in through the pores of her mocha-milky
complexion, moisten the wayward strands of her hair. Wind-swept obsidian tussled
in ringlets of iridescent black, slowly turning a resplendent illumination of phosphorous swirling in a pond of
midnight. Even the piceous hues of her leather seemed to gleam with a light
none were familiar with, glistening in the sleekness of downpour and
perceptions that assumptions had been somewhat correct. “Adrin”
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
For a moment, she though not to bother gracing her eyes with his face once
more, perhaps curiosity got the better of her? Or was the opportunity to drive
the dagger in deeper and gloat at the sound of a dying dove? She doubted he
would reward her with such an entertainment. Snickering to herself, eyes
casting downwards like lances to the weapons at her side, her beloved shadow
scimitars before simply side-stepping into the shadows and using the umbra as
the main entrance to the place between places; or as fondly as he like to refer
to it as. Even upon her arrival, where darkness parted and elegantly Atra
sauntered, rapturous and sensual in pendulum sway... feeling him there, on the
other side of the doors before her, the sensation sweet, just to delicious to
delay the moment any further than what had already been delayed- time had
passed, it never ceased for none. Right hand rising to push the door open, and
step inside so that atramentous eyes met instantly to his crystalline pools,
greeted with a smirk that caused her face to illume with the sinister beauty
she was well famed for.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Stepping inside, not even bothering to look around the room or study it,
stepping purposefully to the table where he sat, black eyes pinned to his and
never leaving in gaze or blink- the only inkling of emotion was the slight arch
of her left ravenesque brow, questioning of his presence and why she bothered
to place hers before him. Without further delay, an albeit contrary to the
quandary of hypocrisy and ironic instances that were more of a slap in the face
that what his words could ever be, so thus, promptly she spoke in formal
intonation “So, what has caused to sway your eyes to once again turn to Ayenee?
I thought you would be busy conquering stars and spheres of the future and not
plague yourself with these places of bygones!” more of a rhetorical question
than an actual asked query, no doubt Adrin would usher riddles or something so
obscure it could be hidden in multitudes of scenarios and charades... so, she
leaned back, crossing slender arms against chest, waiting with almost baited
breath.
Virulent: Adrin couldn't help but to shake his head as she came on with her ever-so formal debut. "For a second there, I honestly thought I was going to answer that question. I figure if you talk to the wind, it might whisper an answer to you." That same smile, stretched the corners of his cheeks upwards as he lifted as his armored digits forced the other goblet across the table before he picked up his own, taking a sip of the contents - which in this case was indeed Merlot, a hefty change from the muddled mess they had consumed in their previous encounter. He could of shucked the husk from a cob with the look he gave briefly before setting his glass back on the polished wood tabletop. "I could ask the same question, but if I had went to all this trouble to discuss the weather, I would of met you in a place a little less...." The walls began to shift, the door moving to the ceiling above them, this was part of the construct it was much like pulling a thread attached to something, and inturn that something being the structure and its components were put into less than worldly motion. "...Interesting.."
Virulent: The introduction was less than he would of liked, questions that ment
nothing to either party being posed like the mundane conversations held by
those who had nothing but their wineskin and who they managed to take home from
the Tavern to worry about. On their level nothing was simple, the more simple
it was - the more complex it would be in the end. It had been that way for as
long as he could remember. "This new world, it is an orchard that has just
come to ripeness. The picking is good if you know where to go with those we
have entrusted for so long to bring forth the bounty." They had spilled
turmoil over Greater Aoyn before, played with some of the so called greatest
Warlords of their time -- and now the game was about to begin again, the
peices, the reasons so ornately displayed upon the table that had been laid out
by those he had sent as scouts, the lessers he had sent to purposely toy with
the locals, and had succeeded rather nicely in doing so. Even some alliances,
fresh through the gate were ready and forged thanks to those who had come
before. The arrivals of his own legions was mere the icing upon the cake.
Virulent: He shifted slightly, boot pushing the chair across from him out in
offering. "No doubt you and yours are hungry for the bloodshed that
awaits, the thrills of the only bride of the warrior's heart - battle. We both
know that if we wanted, we could leave this world barren, taint its oceans so
red that it could be seen from the metal bohemoths that have perplexed you in
our more rescent encounters." Adrin was just setting the stage, that which
he had prepared to broker was that which predessors like Varsinax could of only
dreamed. "Ruining a world, would bear little fruit for our futures as
Ayen, and the other realms have become like the old Wyrms, sleeping and deviod
of challenge and the cycles which used to respawn oppertunity on a frequent
basis."
Virulent: Adrin had never been one to map things out to a fullness, there was
always the front end, and everything else which complexly was woven behind it.
It was what had granted him titles, ranks that most would of envied, he was the
strategist that had more than once had been called upon for the multi-realm
wars which had raged during the previous ages. He however had at his
fingertips, one thing that he knew that perplexed her -- the technology, there
pure advancement that had been perfected and honed in the Chrystalian sects of
his making. "I however want to expand your vision, to see the fullness of
what is truely before us here. This world, this spinning sphere is one of many
like it...and I have the ability to ensure our hand extends far beyond
it." The smile faded from his lips as he took a sip from his wine goblet,
"This orchard, leads to many others like it -- knowing where and how to
move troops, learning the lay of the land and then the universe beyond it is
something that would take eons from where you stand. But should a mutually
beneficial union come to be held -- you're single realm view could indeed
become as universal as the sights that my eyes have witnessed now first
hand."
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Atra smirked, how the sharp edge of mouth came up to greet cheekbone
which only accentuated her features, honed and carved artistically. Adrin’s
words were only merely musical, like the harp whose strings are plucked
according to the tune... however it was such a music Atra was not overly fond
of. Retorting to his comment of questions the breezing of the wind to caress
the perceptions, “I do not speak to the winds, their tongues are languid of old
ballads and old wars most have forgotten and care naught to remember... if you
wanted a trip down memory lane, mine is far older and longer than any somnolent
lingers plumes of air. I didn’t think you so frivolous, Adrin to beckon the
elements to coerce your wisdoms.” Black eyes nonchalantly sweeping across
the room as it shifted and contorted to the will of ‘The Weaver’, blasé in his
approach or mechanisms for whatever purpose they served, she had been here
before so less inclined to marvel at the complexities of its reasoning.
“Oh Adrin, I am sure we could term more interesting things than this room or
the weather, should I choose to indulge it, which in this particular case I
shall refrain and therefore still the tongue to not chill your...happy
moment.” Slender arms crossed tighter across bodice of trenchant leather,
to where digits were not far rested from above the hilts of her blades tapping
against them rhythmically, as if they had yet to serve their true
purpose.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Listening pensively, the way her head
delinked in an angular tilt, lengthy rivulets cascading with the motion to
sweep over shoulder and fall like darkness itself, silky and iridescent in the
mitigation between natural and artificial luminosity. “I have no love for this
world, and until I was again summoned to her fruitless and barren thighs, I was
quite satisfied where I was, which was indeed a new world, fresher than the
staleness of lies and filth- its shores ripe for whatever fingers searched to
pluck its fruits, and even more sweeter yet for the bite. But, just for some
wine for thought, it is all the same; just the names and places change...
however it is all the same decrepit foulness, as it always has been.” The
‘game’ was indeed about to be played, had he forgotten? Perhaps some memories
do die when one wishes to hide beneath obscurities and double spoken speeches
of wars and grandeurs, of coming days of new rulings... an era of rebirth? Nay,
it has all been said and done, the sands in the hourglass of retribution had
been turned, and now they trickled with little to do, but to place the knights
and pawns upon the board and see whose ‘King’ would discover himself in the
position of ‘checkmate’.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Dark refulgence’s cast downwards like
stricken daggers towards the chair, and more those lips transpired to the
‘Towers of Venus’, just as smug in his position, she was in hers despite his
hold of technologies and advanced systems far from where her eyes cared to
delve... but it was not all that foreign to Atra now, just as his slights and
nature was not. “I need not a seat to supplant myself my dear, for perhaps I
plan not to loiter long enough to bore you with my antidotes or poisons. I
merely came to see, and thus have... what else is there to share?” lithe
shoulders shifted upwards, shrugging off the tenseness that rippled along her
spine, a reaction that forever came in the fray of conflict. “I was, however
summoned to Ayenee by my son, Ladislas and Varsinax, who at least had the
decency to pose a straight-forward question and not tippy-toe around me like a
ballerina on hot coals. I respond better to less clandestine deceptions or
strategies.” Taking a deep sign and softly shaking her head, before looking
downwards to the floor with left brow arching regally... “Our thirst is never
sated Adrin, and it stretches further than this wasted, raped and abused piece
of rock that every Lord still wishes to fight over... still. Fighting over the
scraps of Varsinax, like hungry dogs scrapping over a bone white with age. Yet
you all still think there is meat worth enough to pave a path of glory, and
claim it betwixt your teeth”- again shaking her head. “There is nothing here I
want, nothing it has to offer me that I have not seen a thousand times before
and under far brighter suns and stars.”
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Changing position of her stance from
leaning against some form of structure that no doubt too would contort, bend
and twist from reality to that of more surreal transcendences... again Atra
spoke, though this time from the salacious husky dulcet tones of perfumed
cynic’s and opium, oozing the sensuality of her essences. “We both know what we
wanted? We could leave this world barren.... my dear, there seems to be a few
we’s when really there is only I’s left in the equations of our conquests and
failures, there has always been more I’s as opposed to we’s!” Arms unfolding,
hip taking a dip in erect stance to loosen her posture and perhaps some of the
acid that came with the words which surged throughout her form. Smiling at him
now, perhaps one of the most honest emotions Atra clearly ever expressed, not
feigned behind the savagery of her natures, but one that was more enlightened
from gnosis and simply not reaching for the stars or pondering like a peasant
if they were indeed pinpricks in the blanket of the gods and their gentle
omnipotent light shined down to offer comfort in times of darkness. “Oh my
dear, my vision has expanded.... but you showed me this all those years ago, to
broaden my horizons and place singular thought aside in order to select the
sweeter delicacies from the spectrum of existence.”
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Chuckling softly, slightly amused by
her words and the bittersweet aroma’s of its scorn... “I could not possibly be
more enlightened, than what I am right at this moment, here in this little
pocket of yours that I entertain for what perversities that I call...morbid
curiosity. “It is a strange world we live in now, much has changed but
even now the elemental factors remain of: instinct, fear, envy, rage. These are
not to be mastered by any less than an expert of character and then they are
only kept at bay, not destroyed and such self-mastery is rare; true to its
nature it does not reveal itself proudly but remains difficult to see.” Of
course Atra did not know technology as Adrin presented it, his forces were
beyond her comprehensions, perhaps at times even made her edgy- but she was not
a stranger completely to other genetics and advanced systems, much knowledge
had been acquired from Valucre, namely Hell’s Gates which was the Mecca and
powerhouse of all Terrenus; a realm which her cold eyes were fixated
upon. Time had been spent and served well with the Tech-Mages of Hell’s
Gates and Davfalcon... still... it was here that once again Atra found herself,
entertaining something of s shattered glass heart and the orchestrated hand who
still strove to dig the shards in, to see how beautifully she would bleed.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
“Anyway, how could they know the
absoluteness of eternity's maw spread wide before them until they themselves
crumple before it, crushed inward by an oppressive vastness so profound that it
threatens to grind away what little sanity mortals come equipped with. Add to
this blackness- flawless, unbroken, and such darkness that one’s eyes might as
well not exist. There is no light of hope far above at the surface to claw your
way up to. There is no surface. There is nothing. Nothingness... a single word
most take for granted.” Allowing the mantle of darkness to cloak her face from
his vision, looking down whilst watching the variations of his work flash
across the page of her mind, though this time her posture nor stance tottered
or staggered, remaining perfect still save for her head in a bowed position.
“My kind, toss worlds across the universe like stones upon the water only to
laugh at the ripples it causes for a moment and then the peaceful calm, my view
is not singular nor placed to just one, for I can guarantee you, much the same
as you can guarantee me that I have seen worlds you could only dream. But if
you wish to dance around this, it shall be for the last time.”
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: Taking only but a few steps towards his direction, right hand digging
into the depths of her Garou-skinned coat to retrieve a single piece of
parchment, then sliding it towards him, “That is what I came here for, since
you speak of bounty and orchards of ripeness, that piece of paper serves you
better than I. For I am content with my place on the battle field, and that is
where I shall return, old men’s thrones and stale castles of feigned fineries,
shameful perfume and wetted lusts on any whore who knocks on the opportunistic
door certainly does not interest me- nor do I intend to humor and entertain its
wiles .”
“Nothingness,
a word most take for granted, so adrift in lives where every second is laden
with surroundings and substance. So few understand... so very few ...and
how could they? For to them it has been metaphoric, symbolic, religious- an
allergy to make excuses for their failures. But soon their nothingness finds
new footing, and then sometimes they fall to the true nothingness that greets
them with ever widening maws. The difference is, nothingness- what I feel... it
is not symbolic nor abstract, but very emblematic to being lifted so high only
to be cut down”, cutting her moment of sentimental reverie, snickering at her
profundity and the uselessness and fleeting shadows.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Slowly removing her hand away from
the table, and pivoting fluidly upon the heel “Things are as they should be, as
they have woven to be, perhaps now we can both find our solaces in the shades
of tomorrow”, Atra knew the parchment meant absolutely nothing, the words
barely worth more than its declarations of rule and wishes from a man most
these days had little respect for, but it was a means that perhaps she
supported or simply didn’t care either way; it wasn’t a contested move nor an
amicable one. What was to be expected in the days coming however was that
Ayenee could not remain without rule, and a firm hand to guide her- perhaps his
task would find its resolve best in the hands of Adrin for it certainly
wouldn’t be worse off.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Darkbane had always ruled the East of
Ayenee, and cast its great shadow over the lands... and that wasn’t about to
change anytime in the future. Valucre had been taxing on her, patience waned
and the taint of Ggatho still tugged on the chords of her being, ad thoughts
drifted towards Selena and leaving her in Tia in her moment of need, all for
what to attend some macabre parody of a circus and proposals of nuptials and
threats.... jovial to say the least. Finally, finding the desire to ascend chin
upwards bringing her eyes to his and the smirk which had been displayed for the
moment was vacant from visage and the glow of achromatic skin more visible in
the expressionless canvas waiting yet to portray something of emotion.... both
played their cards well, and the walls that surrounded them both, artistically
belligerent in their structures.
Virulent: Adrin shook his head, her
words were like blanks fired from a pistol when it came to his position there,
not even the most amicable of attempts even phased him. For once, there was no
digging forces that could penetrate the air the man had, his presence was
ambient within that space - it surrounded her like the atmosphere itself.
"The walls of those dark towers are forbidding to so many, yet to me they
are as translucent as the crying kings who still mourn the lives I took from
them." The Tavern seemed to stretch, shifting and bending around them as
he began to manipulate the weave. The matter, or well the matter of fact at
least was still something she had strategically avoided, if things were how
they were supposed to be - the destiny of all the realms was a boring. That is
exactly what it had become. The game under the rules of Varsinax had become
this mind numbing symphony that had sung the realms right to sleep. Adrin held
the cure for such entropy, the frontier, and as much as she spoke on about how
much she didn't need he - he knew full well she did.
Virulent: The Walls of the Tavern had
stretched to the capacity of their weave and he had let it go, the walls made a
shattering crack as they shifted back into normal position. It was all for
amusement, parlor tricks out of the fact that she wanted to keep the fissad of
business as usual up. His crystalline orbs sparked with ambition, centered on
her form as she posed herself before him. "If this is how life should be,
why is it you are not holding your head as high as you used to? Why must it
have to be a game with you? Maybe ...Maybe I should finally lose it and unravel
it all? Would that then be things as they should be too? Our thirst never
sated, could it be that you're just too weak to try and sate it? We have a
chance ...New Ayenee, Ayemvu holds far more potential then you could even
fathom. This is not the scraps of Varsinax..Hes too timid to even set foot. Too
afraid I might be right and there is work to be done." He rose from the
chair, as he did the bar between them began to rot, crumble. The wood heaved
and cracked as the strands from which it had been made were tugged and twisted,
manipulated within like the strings to a puppet. Crystalline eyes clouded,
seeding plumes of inky blackness filled those orbs with peered at her now with
a look that they had never held for her. Judgment.
Virulent: His arms streched outwards
and then snapped inwards, fingers plucking upon his weave, like the master
musician, it brought more destruction. The walls rattled and broke, stone fell
and wood aged and became dust. The nebulous swirls of superheated gases outside
within the pocket universe spun and danced. "Queen of Ayenee...Are you an
antique? Something which has gathered dust upon Varsinax's shelf?" His
form drew back from her, drifting upwards from the floor as gravity began to
fail. The merlot drifted upwards in crimson bubbles that split and bounced off
the breaking roof as he continued to pull the threads of the tavern apart.
"Are alive? Are you really a Queen? Are you so dense you cannot imagine a
world, a time, a universe worth taking up arms for?" The rolling gaseous
plumes began to grow faint, the blackness drifting inwards around them and the
Tavern. "I am your Emperor, I am your liege. I am to you what only the
most lucid of dreamers could dream of me. Unlike Varsinax I have no time for
whores, no time for pleasing feudal lords who are but rats within my
maze..." His facial features tightened, and that was when he let go. The
walls, the roof, it all drifted outwards, leaving upon the drifting platform,
his synthetic leather overcoat fluttered as currents of atmosphere rushed and
raced around them. "It is time for the powers of Ayenee to forge together
in union. It is time for us to take this new charge, together."
Virulent: "The worlds crumble
without us...they crumble under our hands, either way they crumble. At least,
existence does not have to be the empty entropy plagued sleep - for our
symphonies sing louder then those who have tried to control the realms in the
past. Our majesty unmatched, and our people's reverence and loyalty far
superior then any of these children could ever dream. Join me..." He
offered, the darkness then descended around them. The gaseous plumes grew dark
and extinguished. "Join me, or fade into the darkness to be
remembered." He showed her, the very thing she had been devoid of,
compassion. His presence within the darkness surrounded her, his voice echoed
from one direction and then another. The warmth of power, the multitudes of the
Manifestient rippled like the surface of a pond, as the very Chrystalis itself
became exposed from within him. Spiraling weaves of blue tore upwards in
helical formations suddenly providing light within the blackness. He poured
himself, his true self there within the place he had made just for her.
Crescent shaped wings of woven energy tore upwards from behind him, curling
forwards high above his head where they came to point. Where the bar had once
been, now illuminated before them was a single pedestal.
Virulent: The rarity of what sat upon
the pedestal would of brought any within Ayenee to their enlightenment. Two
Wyvrenblades, the arms of the Daithilus Amelliaus - the ones legends themselves
had been built upon laid there, along with the second crown of Ayenee. "This
the brokerage I offer, and I have went to lengths that you will never know to
see it through. Join me..Lead Ayenee to rebirth, and let our enemies crumble
upon the fields at our might. Let us make this last effort together, for the
sake of ourselves and those who have given their entire existances to serve
us." Upon the blades were their names 'Fames' (Famine), and the other
'Bellum' (War). A single black silk tapestry with a rose on it was entwined
between them where the crown sat. 'bellum internecinum' was scrolled in gold
thread across the tapestry. He looked towards her, the streaming font of the
Chrystalis weave still alighting the blackness from within him. Its tendrils
pouring from him and reaching out into the unending nothingness which surrounded
them. He had sacrificed, and now their time had come again.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina: A dark
smile plumed across her saccharine lips, so tempting to the taste and perfect
in the way they arched like seraphimic wings—poppied and sensual, lustrous in
the licks of mitigated gloom from above reflecting across their sheen.
Sentiments and feelings... confusion forming numerous conflictive maelstroms
within her mind; the heart half wanting to accept it rather than never know, or
to push him aside and forever and curse her own black heart for the never
knowing... never knowing something of his warmth and fervour. Always being a
rational one, the blizzards of odium enough to freeze the fires of Tartarus a
thousand times over; the mind far more potent than the heart, happenstance for
her mechanisms and calculating thought—and yet all these defences were shut
down in the instance Adrin’s tears adorned her skin. Energies struggling for
dominance or to ascend in other ways, fluctuating in static surges outwardly in
ripples of ephemeral waves to caress and weave throughout her own physique and
aura; for if one denies feelings, they always manifest themselves in other
ways, through other channels and means of conduit; denial is never a safe device
to apply when other things less explainable and more powerful are at
sway.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
The cradle of her thoughts faded away from all
decode unable to decipher them or place them into prospective, clouding amidst
the ebony vapors, retreating to the obscurity of her inner darkness, but only
for a flicker in the time she stood before her. A somber Babel, where myth,
necromancy, science and romance were all intermingling compounds, cinders and
primordial dust, all commingled into a complex string of undecipherable
equation. Her thoughts would be that of her own. Not of Darkbane and
not of duty or titles that sat upon her head like a crown of thorns.
Starless gazes briefly fluttering past each of the faces, lashes tinted like
the knifed-wings of the ebony butterfly, adorned in the sanctifications of
kohl. Highlighted, by the void-dance rippling on the midnight tide behind those
frozen cold mirrors- not menacingly, not any look in particular that could be
interpreted as threatening or non-threatening; but emotion rippled there behind
the obsidian walls and thaumaturge mirrors where his face shimmered and
implanted himself within Atra’s mind, of new things to consider.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
It was a sensation so foreign, so complex in its
reasoning and its desires. Shifting to amore, splayed digits danced along the
masculine scapes of his physique, exploring the structure of his cheek to
jawline. Ivories pinched together, accentuating the tenseness of her own
chiselled jaw causing the decline of ravenesque brow into a slight furrow
eclipsing her beauty. Adrin’s articulations, so alien and foreign in
delineation and affection broke the belligerence- causing her eyes to open in a
flash of blackness and swirling stars... attempting to step back, though not
being able to find the ground, as if everything had fallen away... leaving
nothing but the cosmos beneath her footing.”I only came back to that filth to
find you. I excruciatingly awaited your return till Ayenee no longer held
substance for me. Till duty had it that I moved on, for little can be done with
insects too determined to devour themself and I welcomed the order because so
much became empty without your presence, here...Adrin. I have for countless
millennia watched their destruction and conducted my own,,, and for what?...”
His name rolled off her tongue as if it was honey, chimed to the lyrical
intonations of voice and lilt—the sweetest of elixirs that could poison
basilisks or tempt even the most chivalrous of knights.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
It was here that her posture shifted, becoming more
tense or more agitated, not at the situation presenting itself and the words
that for countless eons she had waited to hear, but more with the raging storms
that hit against the foundations of obsidian and the webs that had been spun to
deceive began to fray and tear away the facade, eroding it to the vulnerability
of hearts and passions for something more than just the death her blades had
wrought. “Meus labiae oratoris plures lacuna quod plures specialis , totus
praeter unus. Unus ut est a vomica quod decorus bona ut meus vita” [“My lips
have spoken many words and many secrets, all except one. One that is a curse
and a beautiful blessing to my life”]... the only words that could be found
that she permitted to surface; whereas a whole sequence of others remained,
clandestine. The dark muse sang in the voidic choirs and wreaths of dark
matter, an opiate cadence, but something else broke from beneath its shackles
and prisons—“ A lot can happen in the moments of time, but I am not far
removed from judicious deliberation. I am not all that insane... and my hints
and your suggestions are both more than blunt my love, but then impertinence
has never been my strongest advantage where you are concerned, some chains will
never be removed for it keeps me reminded of who I am before the facelessness,
the lost girl you knew to the woman you found.”
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Since footing could not be found backwards, perhaps forwards was the only path
in which to move? Finding absolutely
no motion to pull away, as if her feet were magnetized and the only possible
thing was to accept this submission of her own heart and the offering of his?
The fact he had spoken a name so very few knew spoke volumes in itself, a side
of her that no one else knew. Hand continued with its trajectory, though its
caress did not follow a road of pain or demise unlike many adventures it found
extracting viscera and souls... it was gentler, as if her wish was not to break
the perfection of his skin. Yet, it came with the shaking of its restraints,
for pleasantries or affection was not hers to give and considered such things
frivolous and only for the weak. The mind trapped its own excuses and
fallacies... did he feel the tremble beneath his feet as if the world began to
shift of its axis? It seemed both had slain their kin and done things that
mortals quaked beneath their beds fearing the darkness, or the very omnipotent
wings of those akin to her essence? Forever questioning everything, forever
seeking and eternally knowing, the advance of the ALL, the observations across
the scapes of time like the paradoxical webs shimmering between two eternities
of nocturnity. Here they both stood nothing now between them, as if on the
stage beneath the stars of fate. What a profundity, this emotion called ‘love’,
how typically false it was in the hands of gods and mortals... was loathing
more of a real feeling than love? Loathing permeated everything that Atra had
laid witness to, and the only one true emotion that could not be mistaken for
anything else. But there it was now trickling to the surface...
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Secrets are always unfurled when one can no longer
hide, and even though her attempts were profound and convincing enough, the
augmentation of those energies simply manifested in other ways. Hers was the
gentle caress that explored his face and blessed her in the salt of his tears
and digits wiped them. Capturing the rhombus-like moisture as it shimmered in
illumed prisms bejewelled by glass dome above. His tears, more precious than
any diamond and in all due discernments, they were... more prized than any
jewel. Adrin’s hand graced hers, complimenting the tenderness that even its
faintness surprised the action that came from nowhere-- the most divine of
emotion, untainted...unrestrained... unchained. Taking a single step
inwards, despite the emotions at variance, quarrelling amongst themselves to
the dominance of the situation Atra allowed action not thought to take control
of this moment only her acceptance, forgiveness and devotion. Her eyes studied
his emotion, head tilting delicately in surveillance – having witnessed many
cry from sorrow, pain, guilt, selfishness, avarice but never truly for love.
With Adrin’s hand upon hers, her flesh was not clammy or cold, it was temperate
not the cold stone of steel attributed for the flames within caused warmth to
permeate- the light of her essence fanning the fires to temperate summer,
matching the passions hidden beneath the flesh.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
A deep inhalation taken, causing bodice to rise and
fall with the weight of the words Atra was about to divulge, "For an
eternity I have silenced this and fought raging wars within myself...hating
you, destroyed my will to carry on! What did I have left my love, when you were
gone?" words lingered in a hissed whisper, spiralling in the billowing
winds raking ethereal fingers through her silken hair, perhaps tendrils from
those which Adrin’s emotions provoked or something deeper from within her own
essence. Emotion. One of the rawest energies whether negative or positive that
channels the streams from the core through to action, rivers or current that
sparked from the interior—darkness surging beneath as it finally caused a crack
upon the surface of her flawless visage. A side of her began to present
itself, one never thought to exist in the blackness of the void, opening within
the heart of that darkness phosphorescence more resplendent that the
conflagrations of the celestial towers, brighter than any sun in its purity of
white light; an eidola of solar flambeaus like the ferocity of a thousand suns.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
What was this, tugging upon frayed strands;
something of consequence or that which was nothing at all and simply needed to
be pushed aside? No, not this time, even though confusion and angst tugged upon
the memory strings—like the plucked the strings of a violin; the tune almost
chaotic yet sonorous comparable to the great heavenly choirs. Winds unfurled,
harshly raking the manifestation of the void and the physical against their
frames. Zero space in-between where nothing existed, only the will of a thought
and the constant imbibing of the thought-essence {egregore} of the
equation...her equation unravelling the bonds of ‘The Gauntlet’. Quintessence
remained motionless, the continuum existing due to a property of ‘density’;
analogous to presence and solidarity of matter. Transformed solution with no
physically distinct metric fields inside the void, each point differing from
the other, though now existing simply due to the constituents of ordinary
corporeal substances, except that the quantum wave function of the part of the
ether outside the ‘void’ and that which extends over the entire interior of the
lightcone which formed in the onyx-depths of Atra’s life-force.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Atra’s emotions came forth with the storm. Violent
turbulence wracked the glass dome and blackness spilled across the sky like
lampwick and ink. Ripping open with an invisible blade, a jagged wound; broken
and bleeding which twisted out of the darkened heavens in a great appearing
whirlwind. Lightning crackled, discharged with great fury, illuminating the
underbelly of the endless seeming beast of a tempest in dazzling. Seeds of
whispers rose upon the talons of wind-song, faint hums and drowned out my
symphonies of modulation (voice of legion). A multitude of harmonious voices,
all seemingly to speak as if they were one and the same, a song of songs that
ruptured from the heart. Thunder rolled, a wave vibrating through the upper
reaches of the atmosphere and a sudden swirling vortex opening to reveal the
blazing heavens spinning in the center a vast eternity of blackness.“I am not
turning away from you anymore Adrin, to leave you here, alone.” Elements
collided, emerging from the varying shades of immaculate fluorescence and
shadow. Wispy garlands {swarming} {slinking} {creeping} awakening to the
scintillating lucent-hued ornamental tendrils entwining within the ashen ruins;
of crystal and moonfire.
Atra'Lamia|Satrina:
Here.... gentle words fell like
spring rain, mellifluous... they chimed from lips that had never spoken nor
woven and eidolon of love, while digits with his caressed his striking
features, her eyes searching for his... “How I am afraid to weep, lest my
sorrow make pallid your vision... and it waver into nothingness but the stains
of my dried tears and you not here. I would rather not lose your vision, words,
your thoughts and your expressions unto me, or, your protestations of love and
endearments in my sorrows... from one lover declared and unto her beloved
retorted, such has always been as a dream, to me. I was always too far from you
to reach me, my darkness to cold to your heart and little other than dreams
brought us together. You do not need my forgiveness my love; it is I who
needs yours.”
OOC
Credits: Thank you Virulent|Adrin Eitan aka Drew for the exchange of writing, always a pleasure.