тħe мeeтıиg øf тħe тħяee, νeıłeđ вч αитıqυıтч тeα.

Nameless Assailant:  

Antiquity Tea: A cafe opened only within the past couple of years and yet had grown to become one of a few prosperous businesses in such a short time, rumors circulate of some outside influence and yet none have been validated even with persistent questioning of the owners. The cafe itself gains its name from its styling. Extravagant pointed arches obviously influenced by the gothic styling of the city itself line it's exterior whilst it's namesake comes from the fine furniture which has been used to decorate the interior. From masonry to carpentry, what could be classed as works of fine art are used as nothing more then what they were initially intended providing a place to meet and dine not only for the elite and wealthy, but also the common man whom could easily afford the prices of the lesser items which were for sale.

The first pawn had been moved, but what would be the response?

Obsidian hues remained cast upon the Ivory tower has he had come to call it, the manor where the new mayoress of Tia had taken residence after seizing the moment and the city away from it's people. The results of such a bloody battle will still prominent among the city streets, Tia already being home to the living dead as they wandered the streets perhaps finding kinship with the sleeping dead whom littered the streets displaying for all to see their premature extinguished lives given for a cause that was now all but lost. What little moonlight escaping the overcast skies striking the building, outlining it's frame whilst the windows providing little lit keyholes into the would of the powerful. But what of the common man whom was still in mourning at the passing of kinship fighting a cause for the good of the people? Would they accept the new ruler despite the bodies of the fallen which had littered the streets? It was arrogant of her to think that taking control of a city would be so easy. Whilst the people still bitter of how the power which they fought for was wrestled away from their grasp, the mumbling of those that passed him on the street whilst entranced in conversation with the other would suggest otherwise.

αωαıтıиg мч łαđч

Beloved Marishka: Thunder rolled in the distance as Xyllan walked down the scorched path. It had felt like days sense he had tasted the cool life giving gift of water, and longer still since that last meal. Lighting flashed and he could make the faint outline of what appeared to be a castle, beautiful but foreboding. Briefly wondered were he was, or for that matter who he was, that old Mystic he had seen only told him the road and his name nothing more. Making way, finally reaching the castles gates and collapsed as exhaustion claimed his body. The Golden Geisha, as she was known stepped through the Keep doors and gazed at the form leaning on the gates. The Mistress would be arriving soon. Feeling her presence coming closer. And here was fresh blood for her Queen. Smiling softly walking towards the gate and opened the side he was not leaning on.

Beloved Marishka's garb was simple, her Lady wanted nothing in her way when she gazed on those beautiful to her sight or in the way when she fed. Strapless and wrapped almost like a second skin of golden silk around her breasts and the expanse between ribs and hips was bare where an ankle length spans of silk wrapped loosely around her then fell in panels no wider then 3 or 4 inches each. So each step, movement, bend showed flesh clear up to hips. It also showed there was nothing beneath the alluring panels. Kneeling down, touching the man's shoulders and whispered to his mind and ears. "Sir... are you all right?" If he bothered to look up, her eyes were the color of moon spun emeralds, seeming to shine even when the moon snuck behind the clouds. And her lips were plump as if hard kissed recently, though there was a permanence to their ripeness that may lead him to believe they were luscious all the time.

Xyllan did not look up his mind was being consumed by the thirst he had been feeling build in the last few weeks. Rising to his feet slowly staggering with the effort "I ...am..." his eyes were filled with hunger and hate.

ᴇνᴇɴ тнᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ нᴀνᴇ тнᴇıʀ sтσʀıᴇs тσ тᴇʟʟ [νᴀмρıʀᴇ тᴀνᴇʀɴ]

Malice: Histories are written by war, and told by the tongues that survive them.

For as long as anyone could remember, there had always been a Tavern at the crossroads, always been a place to drown their day and temper their troubles with copious amounts of mead. When the door groaned then, and swung inward as if their town were now a western, not a single soul stirred from their revelry; for travellers were as frequent here, as the clouds that perpetually seemed to smother the sun. A rhythmic tapping sound heralded the stranger's arrival, as a cane slowly navigated the labyrinth of tables and legs; propelling the weary features of its owner not toward the bar, but instead the source of the commotion that now infested the room's interior. A raucous youth, draped in a melodramatic cape and surrounded by a host of his peers, was already mid-boast when the old man entered, and as he neared, he discerned the closing statements of, what had undoubtedly been a far longer claim. “I was there when the towers fell, their nine spires turned to shards, and dust. I fought alongside giants, like Delioncourt, and Darkness, whose armies tore these lands apart, and struck terror into the hearts of their foes."

Edging ever closer, like a boat born toward the shore, the stranger allowed himself a smile, a brief and ugly thing upon cankered lips such as his; as names older than the books that held them danced anew within the air, evoking awe for one brilliant fleeting moment, before they were lost again amongst the pages of time. Fortunately though, one of the more astute of the youth's admirers dared to voice the nagging question that had suddenly sprung up within his mind “But those battles happened thousands of years ago, how could anyone still be alive from those days?”, a valid question, whose answer the stranger had long known, before ever he had entered the establishment. The youth, however, seemed excited by the prospect of someone challenging his tale, almost as if he'd been eagerly anticipating its arrival; and with an exaggerated flourish of his cloak, he flashed his fangs and announced “Ah ha, well you see, I am a vampire!”. This revelation, the stranger realized, was the highlight of the creature's performance, because even as surprise coursed like a wave across the onlookers' faces, so too did human curiosity keep them strapped to their seats; allowing the vampire to continue its seductive story, and in doing so, secure their next meal when the evening waned.

тнᴇ sтᴀʀs ᴀωᴀıт υs [σσc]

This past year has been a definitive trial of sorrow, patience and character. I have survived it, not unscathed, and hold dear a mere few who have been my guide through Hell, as it is.  A future awaits, with fortune and wonder... I hope; I am stronger and perceive things around me far more clearly than ever. Indeed, if it weren't for my dear friends and my partner, this confidence and strength would never have been given life again. 

 The most beautiful, precious flower of all, is love. 

Colours shed a different smell; the aroma of hope, entwined with the after-taste of memories, endless.

A wonderful new year to you all. May it be what you make of it. ;) ♥

I would like to formally welcome the stalkers.  Peewee Herman fingers and creepy kisses  to you all, you make me feel so damn important I could simply gasp from the excitement and give myself a pat on the back for the self-esteem boost from such flattery (no, I think I shall pass). You make up 50% of the fan base I would rather throw in the trash, of course where you belong next to the kleenex tissues I used during your departures =)

How about you take what little pride and morale you should have left, fuck off and go sulk in the corner! If you're looking for sympathy from myself or Andrew aka Drew | Adrin Eitan, Koshiro Kiri, Lao'Taun--  you can find the word -sympathy' in the Dictionary between shit and syphilis.

Life is too short for cliches and you just don't exist anywhere near my wave length. 

To my love, life partner and Master, -- every step of our way, has been worth every ounce of tribulation and elation. You are everything to me and more. Through our honesty, commitment and communication with added respect, reverence and honour; no moment has ever been wasted, the tears are now as wine, and the moment our hearts entwined, it was a moment that bonded us together forever.

σмɴᴇıтʏ [ʏυɢнσsнı мᴀтᴇʀɴᴀ cнᴀɴʏσsᴀ]

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.

тнᴇ sᴘσıʟs σғ ωᴀʀ

Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa
Urthosha's Place

Lao'Taun: Returning to the Lorenz System made for time to conduct repairs to the Leviathan. It was customary at the end of every major campaign for personnel who had served to be permitted shore-leave, it was popular among the humanoids, others utilized the time for breeding or other affairs of their respective sections of the Umarian Astral Raquamothla. Kithugha-Damaudan City was primarily Norian, along with a mixture of other humanoid citizens - it was a bustling metropolis within the centre of the Chanyosa's Habitat Sector. High-speed trams zipped through tunnels from station to station moving passengers between locations within the city, Massive markets sprawled across the open squares between the massive oblisks of skyscrape-like structures that were embedded right into the Chanyosa herself. Lights zipped past the tinted windows of the tram car as it zipped through one of the elevated tunnels, blasting past several of the larger buildings within the city as it headed towards the Y'phur Promenade which had views of the Ute'ghaquatha Anatsha Conglomerate's Production Bays where the majority of non-leviathan vessels were produced.

The tram car doors opened at the terminal, and as the passengers began to disembark a young boy began to tug at his mother's sleeve as he looked back at a robed figure who carried a large twenty inch UAC Dedicated Designer's Pad (UDDP). The young boy, tugged over and over.."Mum...Mum....That man...That is..."  Noticing the young boy, Lao'Taun raised his right hand, and motioned for the young boy to be quiet and then tugged his hood a bit more to help shield his face. The young boy's blue eyes widened in response and he gave a bit of a nod, looking back over and over as the rarely seen Luminary darted off into the crowded terminal. There was plenty of more direct ways Lao'Taun could of taken, or even had arranged an escort - it would of just disrupted the city, and after the bloody victories that were scored he seen no reason to provide that type of pomp and circumstance over something so trivial as tea and a view.

ᴀтʀᴀ'ʟᴀмıᴀ [тнᴇ ᴅᴀʀκвᴀɴᴇ ʟᴇɢᴀcʏ]

"Is there justice in this, to balance the world's inequity, or benefit to outweigh its loss? I have retrieved from the darkness the years and the things that were lost to me, they are held now in the light of my dreams, and my path is finally... clear."

What was given can always be taken back… it was the way of all things when taken for granted or abused by foolish and cowardly action; such as this was never a toleration of the cult known as Darkbane- though only those truly imbued with the blood could know this, that of the first and second generations who were given the blood of Pandora upon initiation as well as the scourge of the ‘Malum Singultus’ commonly known as the ‘Death Rattle’ a grueling procedure than involved the branding of both body and soul then running the gauntlet of the clan and partaking in the tests set out before the leaders of the cult- fight to the death with other recruiting members; it was simply live or die to prove your worth before the eyes of Pandora. The history is long and scandalous filled with loyalty, twists and betrayals… just like any other saga is has its triumphs and setbacks one thing that cannot be disputed is that the name still lives on this day.

Even as a child Satrina had an unnerving fetish for torture and blood. An insatiable madness that inspired her interest in the dark arts of thaumaturgy and genetic alterations; to alter the living & undead creatures into ghastly abominations using her potent abilities of magickal prowess and knowledge and use her ‘pets’ against the legions of her 'adopted' father and mother. She was a dangerous sorceress even then but she began to crave something more, a far darker purpose in her existence… destruction. Not just for her parents but also everything above, below and within. The complete obliteration of hell, void, earth and heaven… and it was this thirst which aided her in the means of breaking from the underworld and entering the world, known as Eden. (Yahoo 'Romance' aka Mance).

sᴀтʀıɴᴀ ᴇıтᴀɴ─κıʀı [вıσɢʀᴀρнʏ]

...his orchid of immortal bloom.

Shadows mix and merge beneath the crimson sky, coalescing to form those perfect trysts of light and plethora danced and merged to form that perfect darkness this realm knew so well. There was naught left but the ruins of those bitter memories; perhaps some too had been good, though days and years were long it was hardly like she knew what happiness was... when coming back to this place under the shadows of the Empire? There was nothing like looking on the crumbs, of the unholy and divine knew of her conquests, oceans of blood sweeping over the land. But, was she the only one remaining to perceive such greatness or lust for power? In the end did it really even matter, for who was there to grace it or embrace it, besides the ghosts that haunted the darkness behind those cold, stygian eyes? Perhaps it was more disturbing this barely caused a flinch on that perfect pale facade, emotions unstirred as those eyes scathed the abandoned vestiges, untouched, reserved, poised. A soft muted scoff emitted twixt those crimson-arches of lips, sweet breath stirring the elements while long rivulets of ravenesque tresses flowed, shaking... shaking in disbelief of all that this family had seen, reduced to nothing and the scapes of its lands inhibited by peasants and the lepers known to her, as mankind.

. |‡| . MINUTIAE . |‡|. “When darkness is at its darkest, a star shines its brightest.”

||GENERALE—

☩ Birth Name: Xae'Za'afiel Sheitânii.
☩ Known Name: Satrina Sheitânii Eitan Kiri.
☩ Formally known as: Atra'Lamia Darkbane.
☩ Primary Title(s): Aester (Empress) of Lorenz.
☩ Secondary Title(s): Imperial Concubine [Lao'Taun].
☩ Previous Title(s): Sovereign of the StarSide, Maest of the LCV Voltian, Queen of Eden|Tenaria, The Scourge of Ayenee.
☩ Pseudonyme(s): The Bringer of Pestilence, The Black Widow, The Dark (or Black)  Orchid.
☩ Visible Age: 20 years old.
☩ Date of Birth: [unknown].
☩ Gender: Female.
☩ Visible Ethnicity: Oriental Human-esque.
☩ Affiliation: None.
☩ Religion: [unknown].
☩ Common Language(s): Norian-Espra|Latin|Enochian|Saatthan|Ske'kell-stha|English.
☩ Nature: Vindictive, Cunning, Manipulative & Seductive.
☩ Periodic Timeframe: From the Fall of the Gardens of Eden -- Futuristic Ayenee|Nova Surrune|Lorenz|Elysium Spiral.

ωнᴇɴ ᴀ ωσмᴀɴ ıs ғσυɴᴅ!

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.

1. тнᴇσᴅıcʏ [ғᴀıтн νs ғᴀтᴇ]

Shadows... that was all that soothed the carousel of swirling emotions which blended with the darkness, only to entwine and writhe with the mitigated light seeping from behind the door from the hallway beneath. Amber-gilded spectrums that strove to reach out, in failing hope to warm a cold heart. There was no such thing as physical light, piercing the ice on the exterior. Cold as she may appear, or this merciless calculating killer silent in thought and complexity—she was awash with the mystery of emotion, those of loss, regret and vengeance. Those three emotions, or much rather, emotional adheres to the poison of her wrath... was enough to melt the thickest of glaciers, a thousand years over, or a millennia of ice ages. There was something more potent that the passions of revenge, hatred and contempt. One emotion that toppled all three like the Towers of Babel, rendering all to nothing but rust, then slowly casting to the dust of entropy. Nothing wilted here however, not even the last dying light procured by the overture of unnatural illumination from behind the metallic door. That cursed luminosity, the only guarantee of enlightenment not faltering, not dying. It installed a false sense of endurance and patience, Satrina could cry a thousand rivers had she permitted herself to do so; but no, it was not the flow of salt and water required to wash away these sins like the baptismal of Jordan. It was swallowed, caught as a lump to the throat before skin hardened, emotions frozen, and her eyes clouded to the darkness of bereavement, and even in those moments of dark solitude, faith had not been abandoned, for there was still that firm grasp on belief.

Hope... Satrina near scoffed at the sentiment of that word, a word that many had fallen upon like spears jutting outwards from the force of an unknown enemy. The knife constantly at the back concealed behind the multitudes of smiling faces, courteous in their treasons, polite in their declarations of spite, sweet in their transgressions of malice. All the while, the poker face remaining, unmoved and unchallenged by perhaps the greatest trial left yet to face, do or die, succeed or fail. No in-betweens’ remained... the liminal refused to play neutral. The final chess piece played near to perfection from the opposition, yet what was the message yet to be portrayed? What was the lesson, reason or cause that made sense of it all, no justice in the chaos of the Commonwealths loss? It was this waiting game the provoked intemperance of frustration, eating into Satrina’s essence like the worm to its carcass... lifeless. In the silences of seclusion, when her eyes were closed in search for answers, only to hear the static signals of white noise and scrambled frequencies. Sometimes there was nothing but the crawling of the primal darkness of empty space, or the scuttling... reminiscent to dead flesh crawling with parasitic life. Conundrums of symbolic quandaries, enigmas and senselessness, a mind clouded with the visions of the Lorenzian firmament turning from the amethystine hues mixed with cobalt and saffron to blackness. Ash falling like rain and the sorrows of its people were not even enough to spare her own tears; for not all lives were spared let alone saved. Forced upon death-kneel, to kiss the earth that already was dampened with the stains of blood.