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Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-15-2014


Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-15-2014

Arteo and Chance
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Once upon a time there lived a creature like no other, and this very soul was on the hunt, even as the rest of the city busied itself with usual errands. Chance Arden felt the pulse, the shivering vibrations that danced about the nightlife, and with each shifting step, the Fae breathed in whatever life present in a silent inhale; tasting the emotional currents like a strong and bitter sip of black coffee. Something changed, by what, she wasn't sure - though her thoughts were far from the last several hours of her life, distanced and subdued so new images could play a feverish consciousness. Close, so close, there beat the strained heart of one of her own. But, that wasn't quite it. A lesser, not quite as realized as the blond divinity, this other beast could only be assumed something inadequate of her company. Only the voice spoke then and with its encouraging quips, Chance was steered towards the park.

So her striking steps echoed through heavily trafficked streets, accompanied by a form clothed only in a simple white dress. The lack of shoes didn't really register with the Fae when she moved through the masses, nor did their concerned faces at the various maroon stains decorating her garb, because once set in her plans, nothing would interfere. So without incidence the female glided along sidewalks and streets until she had divided from the crowds and came to a slowed pace just near the front of the park. The archway above the entrance gave her some pause so she could read the dedicated message, but only briefly did the female find herself stopped. Once finished, her tracking commenced and with strange azure hues like spot lights, she laid her sights on the source of her curiosity.

"Oh, a broken butterfly."

Snickering, Chance stepped closer to hover over the twitching body of the stranger, who stared vacantly out into the dark wood line that surrounded their lone meeting place. Really, it was fortunate no one had done something terrible to the woman on the ground, though it looked to the greater Fae something had left her prone in an almost broken state. Pity such things happened in this day and age, but this was a lesson to the sheep; be weary of wolves. Funny really that the biggest and baddest of the hounds would stumble across the faint throb of energy, and wicked intent played the elegant features of the golden crowned Caetos as she knelt to rest beside the heaving body of Arteo. "Now who would be so cruel to you, to leave you like trash on the street, without a way to care for yourself?" A hand reached to push away tawny strands from the clammy visage, exposing those golden orbs that remained unblinking.

"Does it hurt, Pet?" But the fallen didn't speak in response to Chance's soft tones, instead continuing to silent mouth words at no one in particular. Now the blond didn't know what to do about the other female, because despite having no real need for the baggage, she was inclined to at least do away with her. So her hand jerked back and formed a fist, balled and without remorse, prepared to make a smashing introduction with the portrait of Arteo of the wood. Only, Loe was talking again, and the entity had a good point in its protests; this little keepsake could come in useful if Chance dedicated the time to cracking its will. "That's so farfetched..." Came a mumbled comment, but she obliged the other inhabitant of her otherworldly frame and rose to her feet once more. The body on the ground stirred and flopped onto it's back, breathing hardly more than gulps for air, though inaudible in nature. Only the incessant quaking of a tight chest gave the conscious creature above a hint at the struggle her prey was going through.

"Fine, fine. I take her then. No idea what I'll do with her, but I'll take her with me." And with that, Chance Arden swooped low to grab the shaking arms of the other female and with a jerk, she lifted the dead weight with ease. Now carrying her prisoner, or hostage, or whatever she was, the Fae turned back to exit the park and once more be on her merry way. Of what deeds she planned, there was no hint outside the Cheshire grin dotting her lips, but rare was there a time her luminous blue irises allowed others to read whatever malicious plans were being formed in that angelic cranium of hers. "And with every moonlit stroll, another set of concerns pop up. Really, can't I just wander around without something strange happening?"

Step in to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

Chance Arden had carried the dead weight for what seemed like hours, going about her usual business without so much as a peep from the passenger who seemed rather loopy in the clutches of her captor. The greater Fae didn't mind the silence, counting it a blessing based on what she would eventually find herself doing to the poor girl; whatever came to pass wouldn't be anything close to those story book fairy tales. If one thing was certain, the golden crowned Vereaux descendant wasn't typical in her methods of manipulation, and subtlety was a dying art when it came to receiving answers. So the two would trek through the more civilized neck of the city with only passing glances from the populace, but after a certain district came into view, even those stopped entirely. Chance really enjoyed venturing into the seedier sides of town because those who dwell in the dark alcoves and back alleys knew how to keep their business to themselves - and they never interfered.

A stretch of abandoned business front sprung into view from behind taller tenements and quick did her pace go from a slow gait to a run, almost entirely unseen by whatever straggling vagrants were present and accounted for. The dilapidated warehouses loomed over the street the woman took to and with cargo in tow, the Fae slipped Arteo through one busted set of window panes, to which she'd crawl through after her charge; shameless in that white dress of hers. It ripped on the glass and Chance noted a series of gashes decorating her thighs where she had crammed through the small hole, but those weren't at all important in the wake of this strange gathering. Just herself and the still dazed Nymph, which was enough for a grand party, so long as the blond played host.

Empty - that was the warehouse she had chosen, distanced from the street walkers and druggies who clung to the old rules of the city; where fair was fair, so long as you weren't caught. No, she needed privacy and what was assured was how remote the location proved to be, which gave a satisfied grin reason to spread over the feminine features of the monster. Alone at last, with nothing in mind but good old fashioned fun and games; could she ask for anything more? Arteo was literally dragged at this point, one arm in a clenched fist of the taller female as she strode forward over dusty, damp floors, and like a rag doll, the Nymph just bopped along through the grime until they came to the far wall across from the entrance they had used. Only then was there release for the tawny haired figure, left unattended in a crumpled heap while Chance began casting sheaths of shadow at all the exposed portions of the establishment. There would be no peeping, and no light for her victim to see by, which would prove better for the gentle psyche of the girl.

"Now, let me say this now as a disclaimer to all acts performed during the show: You asked for it. Can't go taking a nap in the middle of the park without attracting attention, that's for sure. It's only fair you understand how disappointed I am in you, as a fellow Fae, that you would drop like a brick in the public's eye. How shameful, Butterfly... Mind if I call you that? Well, never you mind. You just need to be a bit more coherent for me, and we can start." A slither of obsidian moved through the clashing shroud of night that fell over them, a snake in imaginary grass, with a snapping maw that hissed and spit freely. The Obtenebration came to settle like a weight on top of the panting body on the floor, and with a gentle shove, it wormed its way into her open maw - slipping along the windpipe to settle lower, like a knot in the Nymphs stomach. This must have been enough to frighten the girl awake, which was reassuring for Chance at least, and Arteo gagged violently against the lodged entity inhabiting her throat. It would dissipate and return back to the other female, who couldn't shake that malicious grin that painted her otherwise angelic portrait.

"Oh, you're awake. Wonderful. You and I have much to speak of, and I need to do a bit of investigating, if you don't mind..."

Now, Arteo had been wracked by the Malkavians derangement for some time now, and her recollection of whatever else happened was lacking; now she felt cold, and her sides were scraped and raw from where her body had been dragged, and there was mud in her hair in moist clumps. Sniffling, the Nymph opened her glowing hues and tried to make out the details of her settings, though the thick darkness didn't let up around her, save the faint illumination her eyes provided - and a strange set of blue oculars in the distance. There was ten feet or so between the two women, and Arteo could only guess she had been taken by someone, but her mind wasn't entirely present in the deduction process; not after her last ordeal. Instead she could only roll a weak tongue against her upper lip, wetting the parched muscles before managed to croak out something of a question. "Wh-what.."

"Oh, this? This place? This random stranger? I guess that's me. But this new world you've found yourself in? It's fun. Really, we're going to have a great time. Like I said, this is all in the name of science!" A cackle erupted from the darkness, spitting his heinous intent in the laughter, like the sound had been laced with rusty razor blades. Just a terrible noise, far from the usual lyrical tones Chance possessed, this was a monstrous collection of words that couldn't have possibly been from the Caetos herself. Instead it came from the other inhabitant of the slender frame, the shadow that resided in her subconscious like a moody tenant. "Just trust me, Precious, and you'll see..."

And then the silence struck, taking whatever reply Arteo would have made and casting it aside in an all consuming wave of obsidian. Hundreds upon hundreds of slithering bodies erupted over the downed Nymph and her screams came as the smallest, most feeble coughs; unable even to express the terror that wracked her fragile body when her clothing was stripped away by the legions of tentacles, and the exposed skin was prodded at like the serpentine appendages were testing fresh meat. Chance simply watched, her azure hues haunting in their unblinking nature, situation on the messy task at hand - dismantling the other creature to figure out just how resilient she proved to be. So it began with funneling onyx beings, their weight forcing them against the skin of the Nymph until they were quite literally tunneling their weight through the gentle natured Fae. More coughs, sputters even as blood came up from the blocked passages in her torso. Pain. Just pain met her senses.

"Still breathing?" But this wasn't a pausing point as the tendrils found holes to violate and occupy, forcing their way through the canals and restricted spaces in the shell of Arteo, nestling within her punctures abdomen like a festering infection that refused to let up. The brown haired female was choking on her own fluids, blood and bile hiccuping up through the pleading, constricting windpipe, unable to stop the flood of her life force coming up yet not giving her much in way of room to work around the endless juices. Her eyes shifted and lids shuddered, flickering like the beams of dying fireflies in the perpetual night that covered the warehouse floor. Still, there would be more as the tentacles dug deep to dislocate and un-socket her joints, to which the unnatural Obetenbration would briskly pull from. Off came the arms in sharp pops, sluggishly dragged from their own inhabitant, leaving in their wake massive holes in a tortured girl. Crimson appeared black in the lack of light, so how badly the building reeked of death was the only inclination of how terrible the scene really was; but that's how Chance liked it.


Soon the legs became detached as well, leaving only a squirming stump in vivid display, nude and writhing in terrible torment among filth and spilled vitae. A delicious victory really, because as Chance closed the gap that separated the two, she could see Arteo still fighting to survive like a fish out of water; no air, no blood... but still going. A fucking battery, faint green light came to cast itself along the injuries and in marvelous synchronization, her limbs began to drag back to their usual positioning, to which the supernatural body began processing the mending needed. "Oh my, you certainly are very, VERY durable." Skin stitched while ligaments and bones realigned to collect and re-sync, muscles wrapping neatly into place among the other gathered components, all while silent tears flooded shutter fly orbs. "And still you cry. Think of this as something good to know. You're a fucking beast, you are... LOOK!" Chance pointed one slender set of digits at the holes in the abdomen of the Nymph, her face showing signs of shock she didn't know she was able to make. The wounds were gradually stopping themselves up and the blood that had been gargling in throat was swallowed back to be streamed once more through throbbing veins.

"How would I even kill you? I mean, besides... You know." Shaking golden tresses out, the darkness slipped backwards to the standing woman and was once more absorbed into her person, as though the entire attack had been little more than a dream. "But this is good. Good for me, good for you maybe. Well, mostly good for me. You're in rather poor luck if you thought you were going to be able to leave." Leaning down to jerk the Nymph to standing, she ended up just holding the creature in a dangling fashion, which worked well enough for the Vereaux female. "So you'll be my battery and I'll use you as I see fit. Right?"

"N-no I..."

But it was too late as Chance forced the other female to lock lips with her, and in this Chance could taste the bitter blood collected in that shallow mouth, which she licked at with a slick tongue, gathering collected pools from beyond the entrance of the other woman's mouth. A short lived treat, it ended soon after and with it, the blond cast Arteo back to the ground where she belonged. "And done. See? So easy."

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-15-2014

Chance and Loe
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Chance had been active most of the day, and as night stole the surrounding streets, she knew just where her last location to visit was. Taking the short cut through a winding back alley, the blond Fae came to a halt at the end of the passage with her gaze stirring over the imprint in graffiti that plastered the wall before her. Intense was the amount of concentration it took, but slowly the portal began to show, ebbing into existence with each passing second. Finally before the woman was a gateway into seeming obsidian, and quickly did the Caetos trek beyond the entrance, taking to avoiding the threshold with one fluid movement. Having never been inside the religious site, it was at first almost breath taking, but she continued to walk through the pewed aisle until she was standing before the massive statue in the recesses of the establishment.

Build to tower over the deity worshipers was the image of Thalia and Falador, their bodies entwined in a gentle embrace, forever together in that natural balance imposed on their forms. Sexually explicit, sure, but only to those who didn't fully know the tales of the two lovers - Chance had learned them in her years studying, knew every small details of the two Gods, and respected such dedication. Thalia was the female, with beautiful and divine appearance that brought even the most well sculpted Fae to shame. Falador was the male in all his masculine glory, a true God among the typical image of the dominant figure. Together, they were bound by fate to keep the scales from tipping, so always would the two be entwined in their struggling sex; No matter the cost, they would protect and serve the Fae race for all time.

Humbled by the image, Chance moved to one knee in a kneel and steadily caught herself with a palm face down against the marble floors. Silence was all that met the woman as her breathing slowed and her strange hues closed in respect of the figures of her creators, but her mind was a buzz of questions. Things needed to be sorted, saved even, because if she was left to thrash against her own resolve for much longer, the blond would surly sink farther into the madness that ate at her brain. "I'm sorry I was never strong enough to come before now. I was always taught I couldn't, and I thought coming would be disrespectful..." There would be no response from the sculpture shadowing her crouched body, but she gave it time to sink in. Everything began to make more sense, if only for the time she was within the walls of the temple, because here no judgement would be cast. Gods did not look down on their chosen race, and Thalia would not argue Chance's actions, no matter how cruel or unnecessary they had been in her time.

"I'm frightened of what I am becoming and I don't know what to do. Every day is a struggle with the beast, and no matter how hard I fight to salvage whatever I was before, I am just reminded how selfish I am. It talks to me, and says all the right things at all the right times... And I am weak. A fool caught in some conspiracy I know nothing of. I don't even know why I'm here because if you thought to help me, you would have long before done so. Wouldn't you? Or am I just a cast off that you never considered your own?" Every pained thought was relentless, with no pause from a very different Chance then was known by this city. Maybe channeling something deep beneath the usually malicious veneer, this woman was searching; trying to find the truth under all the lies. There had been so many, it was impossible to dwell on each, but the current list was something she didn't soon shy from. Not here, not in front of the creators.

"I bed a demon and I am so sorry for doing so now, because it hurts to remind myself of him. It hurts to think how our union is failed from the start and I pray to you now, keep him safe. From the Morandori, from the world... From me. Don't let him fall victim to what I become because I won't be able to forgive such cruelty. I am mad, and I know it, but I am not entirely gone. I still know what happens and I feel the small pangs in my gut when I do bad things... But I can't stop. I can't stop myself. I just don't know how, or maybe I just can't go back to being in constant pain..." Her soft murmurs were barely audible to anyone listening, but it was assumed that didn't matter. Her chosen deities would hear no matter the volume or the commitment to the words. "I never had a chance to succeed in your homeland. Arcadia held nothing but misfortune for me, but I have an opportunity here. I can do great things, even if my methods are questionable! Just don't let me fall from grace."

"I almost lost my wings the other day, and all I can think as I plead here is how wonderful that small turn of events was. I can't lose my ties to the race. They are the only anchor I have when everything else is cast off." Slumping where she rest, both hands now gripped the ground, tearing at the decorated floor with inhuman strength. Changing, that's what she was doing, forced to swallow back whatever words were trying to billow forth from tortured soul. This must have been just what the entity within wanted though, signs of weakness to the resolve of it's host, and as quickly as Chance had fallen to full praying position, she was reminded of the other inhabitant of her soul. A small whimper was all she could manage before collapsing before the two Gods in their eternal love, a cosmic joke if there was any.

Love. What a foolish concept.

Within the great depths of her mind was the towering labyrinth where all her past encounters were locks away. Every memory and happy recollection stored in a database of emotional tie ins that served to remind the Fae of her true self; but now as she stood on the banks of that secret garden, an island in a miasma of self, she could hear familiar laughter and was soon dreading everything about the locale. So she turned and began to run, into the walled hideaway and away from the phantom that pursued her through it's green entrance - deep into the site of truth and down the path of her personal history. Feet bare and pounding at imaginary turf, she wanted to call out for help, anything or anyone to assist her in her greatest time of need, but there was not a sound. Just that immediate lack thereof that seemed to warp what the woman knew and how she perceived things.

So this was her hell, forever to run from shadows, paranoid of what would await her if she ever came to stop.

But even the mighty beast needed to rest and after what seemed endless time, she collapsed into the greenery and was left to gulp the stale air of the garden prison. Her swirling blue hues engulfed the scene she found herself in, all the detail captured but not to be remembered in time to come, just a setting for the inevitable. Collecting herself to firmly plant her rear on the ground, the Caetos brought shaking knees to her bosom and clung to the appendages with a miserable expression on her otherwise divine features. Foot steps echoed from all sides and her head lowered to bury itself in her propped legs, because as she would freely admit then, she was frightened of just who had managed to get her in this most secret of locations.


Of course it was the being, in all it's mystery and presence, kept within the whispering of something distant. Never would she see its face it seemed, especially as she hid her own from sight, because to gaze upon that level of phantasm evil would surly break her mind to an extent she was unable to come back from. "Please, no..." Fighting her self and the building curiosity that lay within that shell of a girl, Chance kept tucked within herself in fetal position, rocking gently as though this could comfort her in her madness. "N-not now, not now."

"I only come to congratulate you."

"Liar! Liar, you have nothing to say but the worst. Your intention... They aren't lost on me! I know! I always have!"

"On two beautiful children. Do you worry for them? Are they in your thoughts? Or are you only focused on that cretin who takes to your sheets?" That snickering sound as the unknown being laughed, it was enough to steal a sob from the Fae, hinting at how true the words spoken were. "But you know I come to save you. Save them. He isn't to be trusted, this demon you bed. Just another in a long line of them. He wants to hurt them. He wants to hurt you."

"How do you know?" Breathed the Fae where she was, whatever gap between the two now feeling to be less than a foot or so. "How could you ever know?"

"I am the one that watches while you sleep, the eyes in the back of your head. I will take care of you, Chance, even when you are unable to care for yourself. I saved your wings, and I will save your soul." A pause before it asked in a purr of impressing vocals, "And I love you Chance. No one will love you like I do. I need you. And you need me as well. So stop hiding and show me your face, for I will meet once and for all with the woman who had taken me as her own. Show me yourself. Chance Vereaux, show me yourself!"



And with the screams still ringing in tipped ears, her legs dropped from her chest and her face raised to exposed the blue eyed female, her blond hair falling in sheets around her shoulders and down her back. "You will be my greatest mistake." Spoke the female in her pained existence, tears freely caught on lashes too dark for such light locks. "I will never be happy and you are the reason why."

"You are safe. I have done this for you." Suddenly the shadows of the area began to collect into a form, a humanoid body without any distinction besides the outline of a male, but whatever would have rested within thought edges appeared only as darkness. A void where substance may have been, and she found herself intently lost in it's endless black. "I have made you everything you could ever hope to be. Ruthless. Fearless. Painless. I saved you from yourself when you were the worst enemy you had... So accept me now. Here I am, here for you, so accept me."

"But if I do... What happens to me? Where do I go? Will I be lost?"

"Never. You will be saved from yourself. Saved, Chance. Don't you want to be saved?" The figure before her leaned down and caressed tear stained cheeks with the back of his hand, causing the Fae to shiver and shy back slightly in confusion. "I am giving you the opportunity to live. Will you not take it?"


"Just say you love me back. It's all I ask. To hear it once, from those lips, that you love me."

"I love you."

And all at once came the crash of the private garden, all it's plant strewn walls erupting into surging flames that licked and spread over its entirety. Chance scrambled away from the heat, confused and unable to cope with all the destruction that came to ensue, but her shadow partner simply followed and wrapped abyssal arms around her to keep her close. "Away with the past. Long live Chance Vereaux, true heir to the lineage."

What had been a beautiful and lush maze of inner thoughts was now an inferno, fed by the malicious and eternally wicked depths of the creature that resided in Chance. Up in smoke, that was the life of the woman, along with key memories of just why she had ended up the way she was then; the embodiment of evil. Keen stares were shared between the Fae and the shadow as it held her in its grasp, just a void of abyssal presence that refused to explain itself or what its real intentions were - but one thing seemed a constant in the raging fires that roared around the two: The female didn't have the strength to fight off the coming advances of the phantasm. But did she need to at this point when whatever reasons to do so were lost in the licking flames and warm caress of the darkness? Heavy lids blinked at the entity, and in whispers, she asked what first came to surface in what had once been a buzzing brain.

"Who are you?"

"You may call me Loe. I'm sure that is enough for now."

"King..." She breathed, the word a sour taste in the mouth of the Caetos, like she had been sucking lemon juices from ripe fruit for a length of time. Swallowing she dragged herself away from the grip he had been trying to keep and stumbled away towards the hedge walls where the fires swelled and worked their path of destruction. "Stop this... Whatever this is, stop it now. Stop burning the garden. I.." A palm moved to cover her features, her azure hues snuffed into closing as thoughts became harder to grasp; whatever grip she held was slipping like sand through clutched fist and Chance couldn't afford to lose any more. "Just t-tell me what you want!"

"But we were going to do away with all this baggage, Chance. This place is no sanctuary. Just a prison you always crawl back to when you're in pain. It's time to say goodbye to this past and say hello to your potential. Don't be so hasty in your choices. Think about the positives, like how good you'll feel when those shackles are shed. No more pain or suffering at the hands of the Incubus, no worry fear about exposing what you truly are..."

"Please..." The Fae let her hands drop from his portrait and locking her eyes on the masculine figure before her, she extended her reaches outwards to it. "Just come back inside where its warm. Stop the fire, theres no need for it. Just take me as you wanted, I'm yours... But the memories, those are mine. All of them. They're not yours and they never will be..." Swallowing once more, the woman could feel flames dancing near her heels and her back was bared to heat; intense energy bursts that crackled and popped as whatever imaginary greenery was being overwhelmed. "But we can make something for you. Memories. We can share them if you want."

"Do you know what you offer me?"

"No, not really. I just know I want to be Chance Arden in every aspect, not Chance Vereaux or Chance anything else title-wise. I want to be what I've always been, and what I do with that..." Shaking her head to free blond quills from her gaze, her stoic veneer once more inhabited angelic details, reserved in its almost constant manner. "And you can have me when the time comes. When the end comes and I've done everything I could in the time allotted me, you will have me, Loe. Everything will be yours."

"Is this a contract, Fae?"

"Yes, Demon. This will be our contract."

Laughter echoed from the void lifeform as it closed the gap once more and forcefully took the woman's jaw in its grip. Leaning in close to speak, though without a source for the sound, the entity began to shift into something more recognizable. Icy blue hues met Chance's while mauve strands hung over fair skinned features, their longer relatives tied back in a loose pony tail - A looming figure as nude as she was, with grinning lips identical to Enerus. A replica formed by the creature now rested inches from the female, intently taking in her body while she tried not to do the same. The Fae instead focused on the eyes of the phantasm as if hoping to see a familiar light behind them, but there would be nothing of the sort - it wasn't able to mimic the aura her mate exuded and that made all the difference to the blond. "And we shall seal this in typical fashion? I took this body for you, since it appears to be what you truly want inside you."

"You will never be him... But it will do for the purposes."

The Eneru copy leaned closer and tried to brush his lips against the females, but she again found herself shaking her head as a spill of tears left tracks down her heated cheeks. "And I don't even get a kiss?" It asked, puzzled by the unwilling participant he had caught trapped, but he didn't dwell on such trivial details of their arrangement. "Maybe one day I will be so lucky."

"I doubt it." And the flames died to smoldering embers around the couple, left with no fuel to continue their rampaging pace, dying with each silent second that passed. Moving closer to Loe, Chance buried her features in the nude chest that smelled like her mate on the otherwise; the true Eneru who remained so far away, she couldn't even comprehend the distance. But he was still present in her memories, safe from whatever destructive force had tried to tear that much away from her, and for that small amount of mercy, she'd let the darkness take her. "Just do what you want to me..."

"I plan to." Came a soothing coo from the body double, his body still acting as a brace for the weak female. "And you, you will be queen."

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-16-2014

Chance and Marquee
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[/b]Chance was also a sinister being of pride, but as much as that one sin was worth, she had six other strongly defined flaws under her belt. This male, whoever he was, meant as little to her as the bathwater she'd use. A means to an end, that's all she could see him being, and his pleasantries were almost entirely wasted; but she played face - ever the benevolent and hospitable figure in the public eye, it was like a game. How long could she deal with those who annoyed her before she was at her limit and thrashing the place with those shadow appendages that followed her? The answer was always surprising since in most recent times, she had been on good behavior. Everyone could thank Eneru for how calm and placid the Fae remained, if that was what others wanted from her. "Much appreciated, of course."

"Have a good evening, Silky." She lazily added as he made his exit, and as quickly as he parted, she was standing nude around the outside of the bath. Her body glowing with malevolent energy, that bruise shaded aura pulsing with each beat of her material heart, her strange hues cast their flickering illumination as the company she had ordered marched into the dimly lit room. Glancing over her shoulder, a coy smile played those lush lips as a hand was raised and it's digits gave a beckoning roll to the fellows behind her. Of course there was no faltering, no questions to be asked, no pause even. Just a group of men taking turns to climb into the bath that Chance found herself lowered in. Some chose to sit on the outside of the pool with just their feet soaked, while other's half managed to settle with her in the steamy water, getting disgustingly close to the nude Fae.

"So what do you like?" One asked calmly, a toothy grin added to his suggestive glances. Really, the whole lot of them seemed rather focused on the form of the Caetos, and she was pleased by the attention, even if it was a waste of their time. Getting her all hot and bothered was silly, because the sooner she hit that peak, the faster they'd die; and she wanted her meal to be a long and delicate ordeal. Her bare thighs shifted under the water's surface, defined by the light her vision cast as Chance looked down, studying forms that surrounded her own with a sick fascination and need for detail. "Anything you need?" Another asked softly as a pair of hands moved to massage the shoulders of the woman, which received a well deserved whimper from the creatures.

Even the most evil of beings had needs, after all.

"So you all work here, yeah?" Chance raised one pale hand and tipped the wrist playfully, indicating her thoughts on the men present. "Together?"

"Hey! I'm not gay!" One seemed necessary to share with the Faerie, and she shrugged in response, turning her sights to him.

"Have proof?"

The man blushed, and that was enough to make the woman laugh softly, almost mocking the reaction given. "I'd fuck you! Get these fags outta the way and I'll prove it!" Making motions to shoo his fellows away from Chance, the dark haired Arab loomed over the now alone creature in the water. Soon lowering to join her in the pool, his face was blanketed in obvious lust, but he was fighting it; grins and narrowed lids the only real expressions given by the stranger.

"I've fucked gay men before. I'm not convinced." Chance breathed, her body leaning in towards the dinner treat, lips placed firmly to his ear. "But I kid. I know you're not gay. Just pathetic. You're not man enough to fuck me..." Cruel whispers vacated the female, embodiments of the presence she exuded - she wanted to make him mad.

Only, he mimicked her, his hand freely scaling her body with curious digits. Lips to Chance's ear, the stranger obviously didn't care to play the game, and gave his own retort with a subtle statement. "I'm pretty sure your aura won't work on me, Precious. Did you forget Halloween?"

Suddenly a wave of red light flooded the room and with it came the screams of the other men, their bodies bursting with violent crackles; similar to popcorn, they engorged then fizzled out, fried to a crisp. Chance reeled back, her body turning as the obsidian tendrils that licked and swayed at her body rose to shield her from whatever gamma rays the other Fae was putting off. Crawling from the bath, the blond coughed hard and blood met the hands that covered her mouth, forcing more layers of her protective barrier to form and solidify in attempts to keep out the energy the Morandori was pushing towards her. "Oh fuck me..." She mumbled as waves of nausea wracked her, a headache worse than any she'd ever felt gripping her skull like a vice.

"I bet you remember me now!" Marquee shouted after the Caetos, rising from the water as his glamour dropped entirely. Tall and tanned with neatly trimmed facial hair and blazing maroon irises, he was indeed another Fae, though obviously not a Vereaux. A squared hand moved to slick back his ebony curls, dark brows raised slightly as the Faeren worked to spread more of that crimson light from his person, a lashing of the distinctly paranormal energy. "I am utterly disappointed you'd forget me after that talk we had. I know it was brief, but really, our kind should learn to never forget a face." With a splash, he was out of the water and waltzing to the blooming sculpture of the aura Chance tried to keep him out with, arm outstretched to reach right through the darkness.

"What do you want?" Chance asked sleepily, barely able to stand as a hand penetrated the shield, groping blindly at her bare form until he had her neck in clenched fist. Snapping her teeth onto his hand, she stumbled out again, sending shockwaves of darkness towards the Morandori. "This seems quite a waste of resources, Marquee."

"It is, really." The tendrils hit the male hard and he braced his bare feet into the flooring so not to knock over. "I'm one with the mountains, Chance. This act is tiresome." His weight remained centered so even as the tentacles of obtenebration grappled him, he didn't budge from the place he'd taken to standing after the gust of magic. "Why not come out and play with me for a little while?"

"If I were to report this to the council, they'd have your head." The blond closed her eyes and eased herself backwards, slow steps because of the sickness she felt, until her back hit the far wall, leaving a good 10 feet between herself and Marquee Morandori, the attacker she hadn't expected. "Your glamour is very good. I didn't even know you weren't human..."

"Yeah, well, when you're not a cage for demons, you have the opportunity to evolve." Tearing at the tendrils of energy, they snapped and howled, dissipating with their serpentine hisses cutting through the otherwise quiet room. "But you decided you were better off with whatever this is... And guess what? You'll never get to be a grown up Fae." Feigning a pout, he'd closed the gap between the two easily, and found himself with a hand outstretched to stroke the younger Fae's cheek. "Forever youthful in your naivete, never able to fully mature. Even Fortune will get that far, but you won't. How strange. How weird."

"You have no idea what I'll become." Chance chuckled, her vision returning to lock on the dark skinned creature before her, face turning away slightly from the hand he chose to touch her with. "And I promise you, it's not going to be pretty."

If words were venom, Chance would feel a splash of poison to her beautiful face when Marquee laughed, and the male retorted with the most snide of expression donning his noble visage, "Is that how you scare the kids? Give them a few good bed time oogy boogies about how FUCKING GROSS you are? Really, you tactless piece of shit, willing to spread your sorry legs for anyone..." His hand shot up when his voice rose to a dull roar, and with widened eyes, he clamped that massive fist over the blond's windpipe and lifted her upward so delicate form was crushed and held dangling from some several feet off the ground. "ANYTHING, CHANCE VEREAUX! Even now you bed a demon, and you expect me to listen to petty threats of you turning me over to the council?! HAH! Get a clue, Princess."

Hissing, the hundreds of obsidian appendages all rose and lashed at the greater Fae, but he simply sent another pulse of that radiating heat, and the darkness seemed to shrivel back into the female once more, drained of it's potency. Without much control over the situation, the woman let herself remain still in the clutches of the Morandori, a humored smirk covering delicate features in between her winces. There was little to break through that thick skull of the creature, and his insults were cast to the atmosphere like they had been nothing at all. "Oh? You seem jealous." The fist tightened and she stifled a gag, though the sound was turned into a cruel bout of laughter. Even in the face of possible death, Chance Arden didn't budge; a rock, an island, she was untouchable in the labyrinth of her madness.

"Of a filthy hellspawn? Of something so worthless as a fuck toy? You stupid whore. You know nothing."

"Could have fooled me.." Chance choked out with another chuckle, her luminous eyes matched by the small fires of Marquees luminous hues. "Tell me what... You want then. Halloween." Trying to swallow, she found herself unable to perform even that simple action, left to collect pools of saliva behind her slightly parted lips. Breathing was now near impossible and she gulped back air when it was available, a dizziness to match the nausea catching up to her perception of the situation. But she remained cocky, sneering at the patriarch of the opposing clan, unashamed of Eneru or her life choices thusfar. Her only thoughts remained firmly connected to just why she had been graced with the visit from her adversary.

"I remember Halloween." A collected response and the hand at the Fae's neck lessened it's tyranny for the time, simply holding her prone while he continued. "And I remember offering you something. Do you remember?"

"I don't want your dic-"

Quick as she had uttered the response, Marquee's unoccupied fist swung into Chance's portrait, catching the Fae with a cold cock to her lips. Skin split, and in such, blood began to dribble from freshly made wounds in that lovely visage. It received a sharp cry and a stifled whimper, shutting the blond up for the time. It wasn't any time to joke, but this all seemed too much for the Faerie, this male waltzing in to take what he thought was his. Glamour flickering, there was a contrasted blur of skeletal wings attached to the female's back, appearing only briefly before they once more were hidden behind the obscure veil of the umbra. There was never a time she chose to allow the appendages to show, even when hit in the face with the force of a mach truck. The wall behind her was crumbling, but her weight held it up for the most part, save the bits of ceiling that had began falling away. Apparently she made a good brace for impact, because without her seemingly fragile frame, the damage would have been far worse.

"I'll ask again. Do you remember?"

"Still don't want your dick." And another pounding fist fall struck the woman, only this time it hit her in the midsection, and with the blow came a hacking cough that sent blood flying from her crimson painted maw. Eyes shutting, they briefly remained blind to Marquee, holding back impending tears she refused to let fall. "Fuck.."

"Why are you so hell bent on pissing me off? Everything you do, everyone you associate with, everything you fucking are... All attempts to make me mad. I'm a patient man, so fucking patient I waited all this time for a response, and what do you give me? Jokes." He paused to take a few steps away from the wall, dragging Chance along for the ride until his arm made a winding turn upwards like a cruel windmill, going full circle until it slammed the injured Fae down onto the concrete floor. That did damage, the ground crumbling like loose dirt, leaving an impact crater as deep as a grave and as wide as a small sedan. "I came here for the answer, Chance Arden. Chance Vereaux. Chance, you fucking bitch!"

At the bottom of a dark hole there lay Chance, clinging to consciousness with little in hope of help; she had no friends after all. Really, she just had Eneru, but even he was too busy saving the world to be of any good then. Her eyes flickered, though not from blinking this time, instead that inner light seemed to be receiving just as much of a snuff as she was. Such things happened around Marquee, an individual who possessed something of a unique ability among her kind. He had been sapping her of her strength since the moment he'd shown up, even without her realizing it, and he amplified the stolen force into something horrific. The fact he hadn't killed her was political, nothing more or less, but he'd hurt her as much as he wanted because he wasn't about to take silence as the answer. Chance gave him just that, not a word to share with the fellow as her usual smirk forced itself over battered features.

"This alliance could better the clans, better the nation! All you need to do is agree, Chance. All the pain stops, and you needn't see me again until we leave for Arcadia. Once there, you'll be free. Isn't that what you always wanted? Freedom?" Playing at the blonds weaknesses, he was trying to coax out the words. He needed a promise. Really, he needed a contract, and without it, he'd have nothing but a broken girl in a hole. Having no energy to heal herself, she could only imagine what great deal of pain she had inflicted on others who suffered similar fates by her hands. A cruel twist on things, the Caetos barked a laugh and allowed darkness to swarm her pale body for maybe the last time.

"Don't you fucking run!" Snapped the Morandori as he tried to clamber down to pull Chance out, but it was too late; leaving only the dribbled fluids of her lifeforce behind, the blond Fae was gone. Blinked away with that last reserve of energy, it was almost impossible to say if she would survive the travel time, but one thing was certain - the female hadn't given Marquee what he wanted, and she never would. Even death wasn't enough for her to go back to slavery, for the greater good or otherwise.

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-16-2014

Teague and Kade
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Wading through the dust bowl hadn’t seemed to bother Teague one bit, her crunching steps leading the way through sand speckled gusts. Following behind in an awkward, unprepared fashion was Kade, her long lashes forced to squint through the oncoming sheets of storm bits. “Can we stop yet?” The taller blonde managed to call out without gagging, trying to tug at her red headed companion’s heart strings with the tone. The words fell on deaf ears. Countless hours would pass with the duo seeing and hearing nothing beyond the raging tide of sand in the otherwise hollow desert backdrop. It wasn’t until the sun vanished like a snuffed candle that the two set up a small camp at the base of what could be passed off as a hill. Teague had once preached the importance to having your back against something when you sleep, if only to give you one side not to have to worry about.

Kade knew better. Teague barely slept as it was, so she could work without the fourth side blocked off. At least that was her general hope.

A fire was sparked by the dutiful youth while letting the masked woman have space and time to recollect herself, which meant Teague would turn away from Kade entirely to stealthily remove her head gear; an attempt to get out as much sand as possible before it would be dutifully worn again. Even after the good deal of time they had traveled together, neither made mention of the secrecy behind Teague’s actions, though Kade couldn’t help respecting the wishes of her friend. Never looking, she honestly didn’t know what Teague looked like beneath her mask, save for the messy tuft of fire engine red that poked out in all angles.

"Do we still have those cans of soup?"

Static cut through their relative silence as a reply was made, monotonous through the scattered mechanized garble. “Probably not.” Shifting back to face the small campfire, the dark garbed creature rummaged through her pack for a moment or so before adding, “And we’re out of rice as well. What does that leave you with?”

"Eh…" Kade made a disgusted face before listing her goods. "Some of that dried rat meat, a can of mushroom soup, and two of those weird army rations." Outside of crumbs, that was what they had left after their journey through the wastes, meaning the pair would need to get lucky sooner or later. A town was the goal, but even seeing a rat or a bird would be a blessing.

"Just throw the meat in the soup for now. We’ll hold off on the MREs." It was implied they would be needing those last two meals for their next camp out, though it didn’t put Kade at ease knowing they now had a deadline to work from. Even so, her attention returned to cooking, where the materials were mixed unceremoniously in their half caved cooking pot for the few moments it took to heat up.

"Do you remember which way to go?"

Teague shrugged, as though that was enough.

"I mean, you’ve been this way before, so you know whether or not we’re close to a town, right?" Kade picked idly at the peeling leather of her boot, unable to look at her companion while asking such probing questions. Something about doing so made her uncomfortable, though why, she wasn’t entirely sure.

"We’re close enough. Have I steered you wrong yet?" Teague, as per usual, had no inflection to her words while they were streamed through the helmet. Just static and a steady monotone. Initially it had been bothersome to Kade to be forced to listen to such a strange collection of robotic sounds, but months later, she couldn’t see someone speaking without it. Even in her mind, she seemed to relate her own speech to that of her friend’s, keeping her voice soft, smooth and stripped of emotion.


"Then trust me when I say we’re close. We’ll have you bathed and cleaned up in no time. Might even have enough to barter with to get you a mask." All of which Teague said to entice the girl, as though this distant town was actually an oasis in the desert. To Kade, it would be - Anything was better than wandering for days at a time.

"Alright, alright. I think the soup’s done, too."

"Good. I’m starving." And beyond the campsite was a stretch of endless night, seemingly untouched by neighboring light sources… At least for the moment.


Dinner came and went quietly, finished with a signal from Kade for Teague to hand over her plate. They didn’t make idle chatter, or even bother with any sort of conversation, instead taking to opposite sides of the campsite for the time being to do what was needed. The more experienced of the two continued to breathe audibly through her mask, which created a distant wind tunnel sound to break the silence. Even as her energy was drained and her attention seemed to wander, a hidden gaze continued to bounce back to the blonde. It was second nature for Teague to keep an eye on her young companion, fear from somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach implying that one quiet night would bring a wave of misery over their situation. It only took one slip up, and their days of carefree travel were coming to an end. Call it a hunch, she’d have said if she could find a way to share the news with Kade.

Maybe it was paranoia kicking in.

"I think I might get some sleep." Teague spoke up after a lengthy amount of silence, catching Kade’s unwrapped hands brushing back what was left of once long hair. A shame to see the blonde this way, stripped of what she had once valued above everything else. Teague had never been a vain woman, but in the eyes of most, she wasn’t a woman at all. Just how she liked it; safe beneath filthy black garb and a glitchy filtration mask. There was no safety for women where they were, in this world, so she did nothing to draw attention to what she considered her greatest flaw. A strange way to live, but a safer one in the long run. “You only need to watch for a while. Helmet’s gonna wake me up in an hour or so.” That said, Teague shifted away and curled into a ball, knees to her chest against the back side of the hill.

Green hues flickered from the sleeping body to the fire, questioning if she could also manage a nap, but decided against it. The last thing Kade wanted to do was wake up after Teague, and receive the ‘we always need a lookout’ lecture. It wasn’t a highlight of their trip. Instead to keep busy, the blonde retrieved a wooden lump from her pocket, and fished around for her pocket knife. It wasn’t like they had any board games floating around - so she made do whittling to pass time. Of course, no one had really bothered to teach Kade just how to whittle correctly, so her tiny figurines were often ugly blobs of jagged wood. 'It's a learning process' Teague said after the first few failed creations. 'No one starts perfect.'

"Yeah…" Kade grumbled at the memory, letting out a deep breath to push back her bangs. "Practice makes perfect." If left to her own devices, she’d have been finished with the newest addition by the time Teague came to, but that wasn’t going to happen as something in the darkness clapped like thunder. A strange foreign sound, it jostled the young woman, who straightened her posture and strained to see through the pitch backdrop. The smell of sulfur wafted closer after a moment or two, causing her to place a hand on Teague in a desperate attempt to wake her up.

"T-teague… Teague, someone’s out there. Teague, wake up!” Kade couldn’t bring herself to look away from what distant shapes could be made out, the grinding of tires on sand now noticeable, as well as hoots and hollers from carnal voices. “Teague, we have to go.” Shooting up like a spring, the slender youth stuffed all their loose belongings they had scattered around the fire into her bag, and reluctantly kicked her companion in her exposed calf. “TEAGUE!” This seemed to finally rouse the other woman, who gave a static-y whine, and scrambled to her feet with visible wincing.

“Are you insane? I said-“

"Listen, Teague. What do you hear?" The howls of strangers continued, with headlights below their, off to the far right. A roar of an engine shattered the atmosphere once more, eagerly replacing their quiet evening with a newfound sense of panic. "Teague, we have to go. We can’t stay, not when people are coming and-"

"Where’s my gun?" Hands at her side, the helmeted woman motioned that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. "I’m not going to freak out about this, but give me the gun.” Her garbled filtration device seemed to be leaking a bit of her emotions because Kade could have sworn, in that moment, Teague sounded furious. So, dutifully, the blonde rummaged for the weapons and produced it for her friend as quickly as could be expected, and then backed off.

"But can we not stay here? They saw the fire, I know they did." Kade’s chin tipped upwards as an indicator they should get to climbing. At the very least, they’d have a perch to wait on. After a nod was shared between the duo, they made an about face, and started their slow wrap around the hill - headed away from the strangers for a few moments to find where they could easily begin their climb up the slope. It didn’t take long after that for the two women to reach the top, surprisingly well camouflaged among the small boulders, and patchy bushes growing in at their base. As Kade took a spot looking over the edge, she remained mindful of her exposure.

Teague didn’t seem to care one way or the other if they saw her mask, and openly gazed down at the scene like a white noise producing sentinel. If they shot at her, it wouldn’t be the first time, and sure wouldn’t be the last. “What are they looking for?” The red haired woman asked quietly, a crackle following the words. It wasn’t intended to be answered; they’d need to watch and find out. They were high enough up that even the visual’s in Teague masks couldn’t make out faces, but the sounds echoed through the open terrain.[/sub]

Perception was Teague’s only real advantage over Kade. It had taken time to hone it, to interpret the truth behind the lie they lived, so every new adventure could be seen through the eyes of someone fit to handle the situation. She wasn’t a hero like her younger comrade tended to claim when times got tough, and the only solution was to shoot loose and from the hip, but she sure as hell wouldn’t put up with the anarchist mentality many of the survivors seemed to favor. If it wasn’t for Kade stumbling into her life, she may have strapped her trench coat with explosives and did a number on one of the bigger nests of filth, but there wasn’t an option to do that now. Her baggage ensured she was always on her toes, unable to be angry and reckless and guilt-ridden anymore. She could only continue to march onward with the setting sun, a blonde girl in tow as her means to retribution. “I think they’re done picking at our leftovers.”

Kade nodded once in agreement, noting as the pack of thugs gathered back up into their trucks and headed off once more with obnoxious revs of their motors as a big ‘fuck you’ to whoever else was nearby. Sometimes Kade imagined coming across other travelers that weren’t after what they had, but she had learned her lesson. She wouldn’t be hurt like that again, certainly not with Teague by her side. Uneasily the tall blonde rose to her feet and began dusting off the accumulated dirt, less weary of their surroundings now that the noise had died down. “Where are they going?” Sniffing as the dust wafted, Kade stifled an awkward sneeze before adding, “They seemed like they were headed back to their place. Wanna follow the tracks and see if it’s a town?”

"Is that the type of town you’d want to be seen in?"

"Well, no." Kade’s features shifted to a small frown. "I just thought you might want to investigate."

"It’s not our job to keep tabs on tailgaters. If they had seen us- no- seen you, there wouldn’t be much investigating to do. Only takes one whiff of a woman to draw out all the scum within twenty square miles, but you fucking know that, Kade. Why even ask me?” Maybe it was for the best that the youth couldn’t see Teague’s expression, which seemed awash with a foreign pain. It wasn’t a pretty sight to think back on how they met, and she would sooner die than see the other woman in a situation similar. “Now make sure you have all the things because we’re going. Got it?” A gloved hand waved away the argument before it happened, letting it be clear there was no discussing it. So, Kade simply slinked off and did what was asked of her, trotting back with the bags and a very unpleasant scowl.

"Lead the way, your majesty.” The blonde hissed as Teague snatched her duffel and shook her head. “Take us wherever it is YOUR heart desires.”

"Kade, are you fucking serious right now?!" The helmet wearing firecracker spun on heel to face her counterpart, live wire static of her mask popping angrily. "Did you fall and hit your head? When I found you, you had been beaten so badly, you couldn’t see or hear! I don’t even know how many men fucked you, and I don’t know how you even got out of there alive, but you did, and I had to nurse you to health with the thought that even the slightest mention of you to anyone else could bring them back. I know they’re looking for you, and I know if they find you, they won’t make it easy, or fucking pretty. How dare you cop an attitude with me because I won’t let you wander off, and find fuck knows what! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING FOR THAT THEY-“

The popping of shots fired stopped the rant immediately, leaving Kade visibly startled by the sound. Neither wanted to say it, but they knew what was happening without having to see it first hand.

"They found someone." Kade breathed as their two figures descended down the rocky slope, naked to the pitch of the darkness surrounding them. "If we had followed, we could have helped…”

"Don’t even start with that again. Not now. Not when it’s time to put on your big girl pants.”

"Teague, I’m serious! If we had just followed them from a safe distance, we would know where to go. They’re going to kill people because we were fighting about what could happen."

"You don’t know that." Swallowing with a strange fizzle, Teague jogged ahead a bit and tried to make out the distant backdrop. Some of the shadow variants stood out, but only the lights in the far distant were any real indicator of what they were headed towards. "We’ll skirt it first, see how many stopped there. If we’re lucky, it’s not the whole caravan."

But when had they ever been lucky?

The duo moved silently across the sands, tight to their weapons with ears open to what may be happening. Someone must’ve been angry judging by the yelling, but even Teague couldn’t make out much of the dialogue. Something about knocking someone up, or out? Was this just a weird case of gang rivalry, and the two women were better off not trying to intervene? Kade touched her arm as they enclosed on the parked vehicle, motioning to where the strangers were fighting in front of it’s glaringly bright lights. Didn’t look much like one group belonged with the other, so the conflict may have been what was initially assumed. Partially wanting to warn Kade to wait in the rear, she tugged at the blonde to fall back, but was surprised to find her friend resistant. This had to be a joke, though it wasn’t funny in the slightest, and it took all the older woman’s willpower to keep from dragging her. Kade was still moving though, and there didn’t seem to be a point she decided to stop. Gun in hand, she strode forward with Teague motioning for her to stop, and then shouted at the top of her lungs, “WE HAVE YOU FUCKING SURROUNDED, SO DROP YOUR FUCKING GUNS!”

So much for just surveying.

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-17-2014

Chance and Loe
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Now, it’s hard to really assume one knew Chance Arden, but it was safe to believe not knowing her was well enough in your favor. She wasn’t exactly an icon of her age, notorious instead of well introduced, with each winding story a presentation of her utter cruelty vice any semblance of good nature. This wasn’t something the creature really questioned, being she’d gone so long in the lime light as a bad girl, and this sort of ideology carried expectations with it. Content to revel in her darker nature, hardly could you find a place in this Goddess forsaken galaxy that didn’t have a whisper of her deeds on its inhabitants lips. With her accomplishments came sick pride, a bubbling swell in the bosom of the beast that refused to be quelled, which only fueled the excessiveness of the Fae. To Chance, it was all in good fun, after all.

Not to say she couldn’t see the madness at face value; really, she would always be cognizant of her misdeeds. Killing was a sport, hunting a privilege and blood lust was acceptable. Who could deny her a passion so strong, the kiss of immortality trying to catch up to her always fleeting image, blond and furious in sexual deviancy with demons nipping at her heels? Staple of the Fae, a glorious image of beauty and sensuality, Chance was no different in several aspects of her linage. What stood out and really popped was her carnal urges, things most Fae could easily tie down and tuck away, but Chance seemed unable to hide. The woman ate when she wanted to eat, she fucked when the mood was right (which was always) and she murdered without a sense of remorse humanity might expect from the race that dominated the galaxy with looks alone. Were they the most powerful collection of creatures the cosmos could provide? Probably not; but they were damn good at getting you naked, which was half the issue when it came to power struggles.

Catch them at their most vulnerable and you will succeed in two things: Dominance and advantage.

Now though, this was a quiet time. Nothing seemed to take precedence over her enjoying a cocktail and mingling with the interplanetary individuals that roamed the interior of the back. Various grifters tried to pass their wares in their current conversations; a few working girls of various ethnicities did the same, peddling their erotic thoughts and adventurous offers of off landers. Chance licked her lips appreciatively with the swarm of collective noise, enthralled by the petty human nature of the galactic gathering. Just another cantina, populated by the loners and miscreants of the planet, with little mentioned when it came to war or politics or her least favorite subject: The Regals. She still had a bone to pick with that Micah prick, because some hundred or so years ago, he made a bitch of her. Not directly, no, because that would have put some stifle to her booming ego. Instead, he’d been the indirect reason she had found herself on the trek with Fiona the cocky little idiot who had been dead set on the Ocean key.

Now let’s face it, Chance could give two shits less about that mythical bullshit, because she was made of the very magic the artifact claimed to hold. Maybe not to the same extent, but to enough of a degree that she was satisfied never to search for relic. But Fiona had been a convincing girl, full of promise and confusion, entirely the better for the manipulative Fae girl to play with. That all changed when the party reached a certain barren rock; her, Fiona and the captive Daedalus. The prisoner ended up breaking off and running for the hills, Fiona vanished in the night in pursuit of that silly Key and Chance had been left to collect and regroup on her own, which ultimately gave her reason to all together quite the trek. Fuck ethics and resolve, fuck appreciation for lost magicks and fuck Micah Regal for coming out of this whole situation a hero. She had thought of the Paris bombings much in her recent meanderings, because of how much the world had changed in just one night.

Night sky had been alight with the bombardment, splendid and frightening, causing the populace of the area to flee in a panicked manner as if the Earth had finally met its end. She hadn’t followed up on the entirety of the aftermath, but the streets had been a wonderful place to wander in the following morning, strewn with corpses and carnage the likes she hadn’t even given herself the honor of causing. Such things aroused her, which may have been why her mind often fluttered back to the pile of bodies and debris that hid the once beautiful Parisian streets. Something about screaming innocence and fading strength just brought a lazy growl to her throat. This bar wasn’t special, didn’t have a damn thing to it that stood out, but the creature was all the more at home in such a setting because of its mundane roots. They didn’t recognize her here, a rare thing indeed – which made the hunt a tad easier.

Swirling irises fell on a skinny boy in the back, one who’d shamelessly tracked her movements from the moment she entered the establishment, and there was a flash of teeth. A smile to some, but to her kind, it was a blaring statement of their unquestioned dominance; as if to say ‘These are my fangs, made to sink into flesh, and I’m not afraid to use them’. Pristine ivory incisors were met by a flash of pink muscle as she ran a skilled tongue across the length of exposed maw, her lips curled in a playful smile that seemed to beg for company. She could send sultry looks across that smoky room without a single care in the world, knowing full well she’d leave this city full and content, no matter the cost. Insatiable and cunning, Chance had all the time in the universe to woo this current victim, but she needed just a night – never longer, if she knew what was good for her.

She’d made that mistake once, the choice to settle for just one man, and he had ended up dead.

This was Chance’s brittle heart breaking, stomped by the foot of a vengeful God and a territorial Goddess, hell-bent on showing her the true light. This was when every shred of her morality and conscience seemed to get sucked up into that abyssal wave of darkness she carried inside her, hidden under layer upon layer of malice and discontent. This was heartache, weighted and oppressive like a weight on her chest, choking out the last of her old self. Rebirth in the form of disregard; Chance stopped caring the minute her lovers heart stopped, and in such, she had become whole. No more reliance, entirely self-sufficient, the monster had come out on top swinging. And now, she was hungry, and this male of no more than twenty or so had made enough obscene gestures across the room to cement his position in her bed. What could she say? Underneath his thinly painted veneer of tattoos and ragged clothing, she saw the presence of fear – and that caused her half exposed thighs to rustle beneath the hem of her skirt.

If only for a night, she’d make him aware of the face of the Goddess.

Rising from her seat, the Fae sauntered towards the man, all sashay and sass, her eyes never leaving his person. That’s what made her strange to most, even with the presence of a heavily glamoured outer appearance; those irises were a marvel unto themselves. Blues and greens, all mashing into a swirl, but the colors never mixed, instead segmented and stark against the whites of her eyes. They created the wicked hands of an otherworldly clock, moving in slow ticks around her pupils with each passing second, counting down how long her victims had to live. When she reached her target, a hand immediately raised to brush against the stubble of his cheek, fingers delicate against the thick hair of his scruff. With his gaze met by her own, she wanted to impress her prowess through the locked stare, seeking holes in the thin layer of resistance humans possessed to her kind.

“You look hurt, Baby. Let me kiss it better.” A beginning to an end, Chance was a greedy lover, expecting complete compliance with her wants, so whatever he’d hoped to include in their meeting was cast away the minute her words came. Maybe it was how she presented herself, with a tight fit outfit of fine fabrics imported from far off lands or the golden cascade of her endless blond locks that danced about bare shoulders, but she must have done something right by how quite her partner was in receiving the comment. Finally he mustered his own flashing smile, though his demeanor was a cautious one, like he was weary of such an approach. Chance didn’t mind subtleties when it came to the hunt, nor did she exclude foreplay in her usual game. Actually, the Fae was interested in just how he’d play a part in all this discrete flirting. Pouting lush lips in his response, the female took a moment accept what was being said, eager to please and even more inclined to lure in the current prey of her chasing games.

“I have a room if you’re interested.”

“Always.” Chance replied with flash of her grinning incisors, knowing full well just what he expected.

Life was a game of conquest, and Chance was on top of her game.

The night was a warm reminder of home, if only briefly, and as Chance’s body arched in crescent fashion, it was clear the electricity in the air was endless. Her victim, flavor of the evening, was straddled and bucking beneath her weight with a thin veneer of sweat casting a pleasant sheen over his features. Nameless, she’d remember the boy by his sounds, all guttural and desperate in his attempts to keep up with the Fae’s feverish pace. The world would not know this decadence, but a select few could see the image of the woman in her natural state first hand. Not entirely showing, her glamour still hiding dark and disfigured wings, but her body… It pulsed and shimmered in the dimly lit chamber.

But like all good things, there was an end to be found after climax.

Chance’s voice chocked out a whimper, depraved and haunting, before the shadowed figure of her torso shivered into submission. Beneath came a very similar response, growled out in addition to the pressure of twisting inner muscles tightening along the connection between them, and all at once the two collapsed into a panting pile among the sheets. Sweat kept the fabric clingy and Chance’s eyes adjusted after reopening to stare off at the far wall; though her hands delicately traced over the curve of pectorals and biceps with fluid grace. Between the two strangers, she was the least likely to speak amid the damp nest of juices and foreign bed spreads, but she managed something of a smirk as she heard him trying to strike conversation.

“That was amazing. I don’t know what you did, or who you are, but I feel changed somehow.” Honesty shone through the words of praise, like the boy meant what he said, but Chance didn’t really find herself overly impressed by statements involving her performance. Once you knew you were good, the string of awe inspired questions and comments grew tiresome. Besides, the Fae didn’t find the act endearing as she might have with someone she cared for; hence it had been a very long time since she’d had a mate. A one night stand was all this boy would be, with his smug grins and sheepish hands – nothing about him screamed ‘keep me,’ so Chance knew there was only one step left to their transaction.


Rolling away as if ready to settle in for sleep, the Fae found herself flat on her back to the side of her partner, oculars swirling in that usual fashion while her attention waned from his words. Inside her chest cavity, a stirring of inner power began to work its way towards the surface and every second that passed furthered the strange cycle of transformation. Her heart beats quickened and the dark pupils amid a menagerie of color were quickly swallowed up until all that remained were peeking pin pricks in seas of blue and green. Swallowing, Chance turned herself onto her side to face the chattering fellow and with an almost carefree tone, the Fae asked, “Do you dream?” It wasn’t something uncommon for Chance to question, being she often wanted to know various things of her victims before they were taken care of; especially of their dreaming habits.

She was not human now, nor was she ever human, so the way mortals dreamed often caused the Fae to think long and hard on the subject. That was where they came from after all, where Arcadia lay beyond the hedge and the veil, a place Chance could never get to herself. She had given up many things in her long years, things others often took for granted, but a place among her people was something the Caetos had assured she never receive – a fact the female seemed to be over in most regards. That is, unless she was among humans, to which she’d ask her questions regarding their sleeping habits and their dreams in hopes of seeing the motherland through their inexperienced eyes. The boy was silent though, like he didn’t know how to answer her, but she knew better; his demeanor gave him away.

“You don’t dream, do you?”

“No, not usually. I can’t remember them if I do.” Another bout of honesty and another dead end for Chance Arden. Neither seemed to want to follow up with any more fun facts, and her companion for the evening, obviously fatigued from their performance, was trying to break the tension with a smile. Eventually she rolled onto her other side and blandly stated, “My dreams are strange. They don’t share or show guidance. They only show Loe.” Finding herself standing, she padded across the worn carpeting and began to gather her clothing, neatly piling it after folding each garment. Tucking the clothes inside a dresser drawer, it was obvious she didn’t want the material to partake in the next steps of her captive’s short existence; blood never did wash out. She had learned this the hard way over years of the same game.


Laughing, she realized he’d have no idea just who or what she meant when she spoke of Loe. So, like any good hostess, Chance arranged the meeting with muted pride. Shadows seem to widen and spread along the walls and furniture, easing upwards to snuff the lights in a show of their prowess while Chance answered in her soft and lyrical vocals. “Loe is every dark intention I’ve ever had. Like having a conscience for some, he allows me existence without boundaries. Humans would turn to their morals, but I don’t have such shackles. Not now.” A breathe of smoke escaped the blond as a wave of supernatural night encased the small hotel room, gripping the two present occupants in forced darkness. Clicking her tongue, her eyes shifted downwards to cast their eerie glow on the floor and countless writhing appendages that slithered along its face; enjoyment evident by the smile she bore. “He wants to meet you. Can you hear him calling?”

The flickering mass with all its appendages hissed in contentment as it mounted the bed and the male seemed utterly shocked as countless suckering tendrils found their way to his arms and legs. Wrapping to bind, tight and cold, they engulfed the boy in the same fashion the ocean would was over a ship wrecked survivor and were only then met with the muffled cries of terror he emitted. Sometimes things would get messy when victims struggled, but now, the Caetos was free to consume and devour in a leisurely fashion; sharing only a few suckling quivers before the tattooed stranger was entirely gone from this existence. The plane of the fleshlands, where humanity and other such creatures existed, was a harvesting dimension for other more exotic creatures of the multiverse. This boy didn’t know it yet, but death here would have been a godsent compared to the horrors he’d find in the abyss.

Chance would give anything to find a home in the abyss.

--- o ---

Morning light had woken the Fae in her own room, but she kept still in the covers of her bed, continuing to attempt dreams. Nothing came, not today, but the familiar whispers in her tipped ears acknowledged it was awake. With her lids shut, she could see the form it took lying next to her on the bed, entirely black and male but featureless. A phantom, hulking and savage and dangerous, but all the same hers to some extent. The Caetos had grown quite a bit since she first accepted the parasite, and with each year came new developments in its character, nature and physique – meaning as she changed, it did as well. Eventually she knew a face would be present on the blank veneer of its head, but instead of excitement, genuine fear ate at her. The body it chose was familiar, as was the voice, so when there came a face…

It would be his.

“Admit it, you’re afraid you’ll love me as if I were him.”

But Chance didn’t answer her questioning shadow, instead shifting to remove herself from the sheets. It wasn’t his business how she felt, just as it hadn’t been her business why it would choose the Demon form she had memorized and stored in the back of her mind. “We should get moving. Do a bit of exploring.” If only to kill the topic at hand, the subject change hinted at their reasons for being here. She could feel Regal close, somewhere on this shit hole of a planet, and that meant she needed to prepare for whatever came with that little meet and greet. Loe dissipated back into the Fae as a shadow might shrink when the lights were brightened, existing as the incorporeal voice he had once been content to be, carried in the mind of a killer.

“As you wish.”

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-17-2014

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Fuck, it was hot.

A hand moved to sweep back sweaty quills of tawny blond hair, tucking the pigment up and away from his already sand blown eyes. He smelled like he’d been walking for a week in his heavy leather attire, and that wasn’t a total untruth; really, there got to be a time when Dakota wasn’t really sure just how long he’d been traveling, and that implied it had been long enough to be ‘too long’. Under the beating sun and through a dry and arid desert, the male had shuffled and dragged his ass forward until he could feel grains of sand in his teeth – which he’d subconsciously been grinding – and tasted salt. His own overheated marinade rising from in his duster to perfume the air was nauseating to say the least, but not because he couldn’t stomach how grimy he was. It was more due to how little he’d had to drink in the past day and a half, and with dehydration came the stomach cramps and dry mouth.

This wasn’t the vacation Dakota had been hoping for, that was sure.

Still, a hazy shape on the horizon beckoned the traveler, and with it came a surge of overwhelming need; there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the town ahead was his only real hope for survival in an otherwise inhospitable landscape. Blinking furiously as a stagnant gust of hot air swept over the area, his steps drove him forward, inch by inch in the direction of the collected settlement – and for what seemed like hours, he was as silent as the godforsaken sand pit he had initially stumbled upon. But to be honest, he was here for a reason. One didn’t simply choose to venture into the barren wasteland without reasons. Dakota was looking for someone, though who, he wasn’t sure. How could he be? A hunter for hire rarely was given enough information to hint at true motive or meaning behind why they were getting paid, but this usually meant other details were lacking. The who in this case was Dakota’s main concern, but even he knew better than to fret over a trivial issue like that.

He’d know just who when he saw them. The description had been enough for the male to create a rather accurate mental image of the target, and it wasn’t like he’d been born yesterday – he could find them with his training. If only this terrible desert wasn’t in the way, and each step reminded him how miserable his past few days had been. But so close… He was literally within a mile or so of whatever terrible settlement he’s stumbled upon, and his body was shaking violently. Dammit, just a tad further – just gotta get within eyeshot and someone will help out. Only, it was then his knees buckled violently beneath him and his weathered form crashed into the sand. Fuckin’ hell. Barking a growl from parched throat, his vocals came out strangled and in the defeat he found on the ground, Dakota writhed piteously. A list of things he should have done all swam through muddled thoughts, supplies he should have splurged on and places he should have checked first, but it was in vain. Really, he seemed to have dug his own grave this time.

“Stupid fuckin’ planet…” He mumbled softly while rolling onto his back, fatigue catching up like fire to his coat tails, and cobalt hues flickered open to stare vacantly upwards. There was a feeling of emasculating realization that struck the cowboy and in that, a set of digits moved to tip the brim of his Stetson lower on his visage, hiding it from the beating warmth of the sun above. At least if this was the end of his story, he’d go out with his boots on and a smile plastered to grizzly features – an act that seemed to spit in the face of whatever cruel creator had stuck him in the middle of nowhere without an escape rope to rely on. And that fucking town! It was so close and he couldn’t muster the energy to drag his happy ass up and start again; he could sprint that distance and die happy in the company of civilization… If only he had the strength.

“Wasted time…” Dakota croaked softly to no one in particular, content to berate himself in what he thought to be his final moments. “An’ I got nothin’ to show fer it.” Maybe he was right in a way, because no matter how much he had accomplished in his days, there was always more to strive for, and he wanted that opportunity. Jesus save his wretched soul, he had pride and dying like this was a real bruiser for it. Sneering, the man billowed and gave a snort then once more rolled over to heave himself back into a shaky stance. Wiping sand from his unshaken face, his body began the tedious trek towards the awaiting town, crunching audibly with each rigid step. This was it, that one last try to make it to help, and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least make a go of it.

Now the likelihood Dakota would be found wasn’t all that improbable considering he’d stuck as close to the ‘main road’ as was allowed without being easy pickings for bandits and thugs. Still, truth was the man didn’t assume anything when it came to the generosity of strangers. How could he? If he’d been a little less law abiding and a bit more adventurous, he’d have made a wonderful pirate of sorts; and it fit well with his usual kill or be killed outlook on most things. That is, so long as the intended wasn’t female. Dakota could not, nay, would not ever strike a woman, let alone introduce her to the end of his gun – though he wasn’t above empty threats. Trudging sleepily along the arid dust trail had lost any sort of nostalgic value the cowboy may have associated with his upbringing, stripping it of sentimental value after that first tumble he’d taken. Now a bit more bruised and something close to dead, he could swear he heard someone talking… Shouting even.

That was definitely a shout in his direction.

Careful not to spin around too quickly in case his lightheadedness got the better of him, his sand swept visage slowly glanced back to the voices, and in such, realized there were quite a few of them – whoever these people were. Swallowing remnants of saliva to try and quench his thirst, Dakota swiveled a bit and focused on the male who’d addressed him as the band of individuals came closer; seemed familiar somehow. Maybe a case of déjà vu as it was. All the same, this was just what Dakota had hoped to come across shy of a town proper and in such, a smile peeled over chapped lips towards the approaching strangers. “Ya caught me at a bad time I s’pose. Don’t look all that well off, do I?” A rhetorical question in response to maybe ease the tension. It was obvious by the wrinkles in the fabric of his clothes and the dirt that seemed to encase his knees that the cowboy had seen better days.

But for what attention he could afford to allot Micah, it was short lived by the closing in of the seemingly alien female. Dark hair, pale skin – things that triggered a small snort from the male as she came to a stop near him. As a whole, the group didn’t strike Dakota as trouble; at least not in the sense they were looking to cause him harm. Still, there was unease to be felt when it came to the overbearing presence of the ghostly woman and Dakota heeded the warning by backing up a few steps. Might have seemed rude, may have been considered cautious – it didn’t matter so long as they didn’t find it threatening. “I am in fact alive. Are you?” With the sun beating down as it was, Dakota quickly dropped the thoughts plaguing his subconscious concerning the woman’s race since he’d yet to come across a Vampire who traipsed about in the daylight.

But the galaxy was a rather large place, and the universe even larger.

Looking away hesitantly, he found his cobalt hues resting on his worn out jeans and the mess on their front, which was quickly swept over by equally dirty hands. It’d been a rough couple of days and now was something of an opportunity for Dakota, much unlike the lonesome hiking he’d done on his own for the past however long. It wasn’t as if Dakota saw himself as a loner, but in recent time (which would be the months after Chance made her mark on his life) Dakota had taken to doing things on his own. If you couldn’t trust one attractive woman, could he trust another? Maybe. She seemed rather stoic in her observation of the cowboy so whatever she was thinking would remain hidden behind a lovely mask of unimpressed features. Not entirely comfortable with how unreadable she was, Dakota figured continuing his story would break the ice.

“Came out this way to make some cash but I didn’ figure this place to be so…” Grasping for words and coming up blank, he simply added, “Big.” Truthfully a walk as long as his had probably been an indicator that Dakota should turn back, but as stubborn as a mule when his work ethic was involved, he hadn’t. Instead he found himself being evaluated and sized up by some strange band of travelers while his mind struggled to cling to consciousness. He was tired. He smelled like something dead, which far be it from him to make comparisons in his state, but was not always the case. Actually, they’d caught him at one of the lowest points he could remember aside from maybe one evening he ended up face down on the floor of a bar with a broken jaw. Never hit on a married woman, especially when her husband was twice your size and willing to make a mess of you.

Dakota had learned quite a bit in his youth.

Now he was older, a bit worn from wear and tear, but still competent enough to swallow his pride briefly to get to the point. “You folks headin’ anywhere in particular? I could use the company and I’m curious what all is going on with you lot.” He didn’t know what they had just been through, couldn’t fathom the internal struggles the crew faced nor did he come from the direction where destruction and chaos was all that remained of a town. No, he’d missed quite the adventure it seemed, but now he was hoping to get a piece of the action – if only for a few hours. They had to be close to civilization, he could see the buildings jutting into the backdrop of clear sky, but it was iffy whether or not he’d make it alone.

“That is of course if you don’t mind an ol’ dog like me taggin’ along with you.”

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-18-2014


Name; Odile Carrington Watts
Alias; The Raven Maven
Age; 28
Gender; Female
Height; 5' 6"
Weight; 135lbs
Build; Narrow, slender. Long limbs, tapered waist, classic hourglass figure, though petite proportions. Dainty, possibly frail.
Hair; Very dark brunette, long, often worn as a brain down her back.
Eyes; A crisp, clear blue.
Ethnicity; WASP-y
Nature; Autocrat, Confidant, Deviant, Fanatic, Judge, Plotter.
Demeanor; Critic, Survivor, Sycophant.
Summary; A peculiar specimen of porcelain flesh, she hides her face with the mask of a plague doctor. Wishing only to alleviate her patient's sickness, Odile's remedies often do more harm than good. Her methods drove her to seek - and in time find - a niche market for her personal brand of curative medicine. No one leaves her care suffering the same disease; that is the guarantee.

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-26-2014

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He only hit her when he was tired.

Blood welled from the injury like a leaky faucet, her busted lip split at the seam. Warm vitae dribbled out to coat the side of her face she had fallen on, dragged towards the ground so it could splatter old, dusty linoleum. The floors were ancient, pre-fallout tile that barely held to the cement anymore, and he had promised he would re-spackle them time after time. There had been a lot of promises to pass his lips over the course of their relationship. Always a new line for every night of the week. Sometimes things were so bad, he just reopened previously scabbed over splits and cuts. He never held back when he hit her. He gave her as much muscle and sinew and sweat and rage he could package in a punch, and he followed it up with strikes against her fallen figure until whatever demon had him possessed needed a break.

Then he was on his knees, praying. Begging. Trying to worm his way out of responsibility.

Following her to the floor, he was on his knees to scoop her up in shaky arms. "I'm sorry, baby! I'm so sorry!"

His lips brushed her battered features, wet with tears so every affectionate motion against the bloodied flesh stung, unintentionally putting salt in her wounds. She wasn't coherent to his words, but she knew the gist of them. Nothing about letting her leave. Nothing about giving her freedom. Always empty promises pertaining to his great changes. Eventually, he would cease to be an abusive fuck. God would help him through these hard times. His family mattered the most to him.

Kismet mattered the most to him.

This event may have been one of many clear representations of the hell the woman lived in, day and night struggling to be as quiet as a mouse and as obedient as a slave. Otherwise, she was faced with more excuses to why her face was the perfect punching bag. It wasn't a glamorous start, and it surely didn't make her envious of other women in her shoes, but the wastes had a way on men. Made them meaner than they were meant to be. Wore them down, and ground their passions and beliefs into pulp. Kismet didn't pretend to know what had happened to make him so angry, but she could see how it could end up this way. After so many years, she knew the signs and she combated them to the best of her ability, but there was always a fear.

Eventually, as his abuse escalated, he would reach a point he couldn't stop himself.

"You're gonna kill me.." Kismet forced out through blood and bile and accumulated spit. "Dale, you're gonna be the death of me!"

His sobs wracked his body as he tightened his grip around her shoulders, burying his face in mats of blond hair. "I know, baby, I know! I don't wanna but I can't stop myself!"

And despite everything, Kismet rested her chin on the top of his head and let him cry it out. She just let him whine and moan and self pity himself away because in the end, this was all she knew out of this life.

"Sir, I don't think I'm understandin' what yer askin' me." Dale leaned against the wooden cattle fence that kept the cows (all four of them) pinned. Idly, rough fingers dragged across the stubble on his chin. "You wanna take Kissy with ya? But why? Sounds like yer running a whore house, and my girl ain't a whore!"

William Callahan was far larger than Dale, with shoulders squared and a jaw like a nutcracker. "Mr. Ryder, I came today looking to find employees, and your 'girl' can barely move. You beat her so bad, she can't fucking see! Tell me a whore house is the important issue here!" As he grew angrier, his shape seemed to expand, and as he finished, William had overshadowed the other male like a desert obelisk. "Now, go pack up her things. She isn't staying with you." Turning from Dale, he made back towards the small house to retrieve the crumbled mess they had been discussing.

"I ain' gonna let you take her!"

There was a second William Callahan questioned whether he should pull his pistol at the comment. The second passed quick. Turning back to Dale Ryder, William unloaded a single shot that moved loud and fast to blow a hole the size of a fist out the backside of his head. "I didn't ask." Placing the gun in it's holster once again, the ebony giant shook his head and spit towards the fresh corpse. "Guess I'll pack up her things myself."

Daddy Callahan wasn't just Cashmere's father. He was every woman in the Bordello's guardian, and he did his best to ensure they each had a place to sleep, food to eat, and a job they were comfortable with. Kismet arrived on a Tuesday and soon found herself with several options she hadn't expected when it came to future careers. Of course, she could be a courtesan, but there were also options better suited for the less attractive women. Children needed a teacher, and whores tended to have a lot of children over the years. There were positions for maids and janitorial work, as well as a gardener who took care of the crops they grew on site. The Desert Rose even had a cook, and it took a lot of thought from Kismet before she decided on what she really wanted to do.

"I'm gonna be a very special whore." Kismet explained to Daddy Callahan one evening at dinner. They would eat in the patron's bar room more often than not, as that was where they had the most space to fit the entirety of the staff. "I'm going to be a high class whore."

By then, her injuries had healed, and one could see Kismet would have no problems with this claimed title. Still, the disappointment was noticeable on Daddy's features. "You sure? You know there are plenty of things to do that don't involve selling yourself."

"I know, but I think I will be good at it." Standing abruptly, Kismet smoothed her dress and curtsied towards the room with a beaming smile. "I'll make every man in the desert happy. I think I can do it."

"Sweetheart, it ain't your job to make men happy." William tried to seem genial, but this sort of talk was always taxing. "Now, you know it'd be nicer grooming the horses or baking the bread. What about those things?"

"B-but maybe if I do this, they'll go back home to their wives and treat them right! Maybe they won't need to take home all their anger! If they're happy, they're not gonna swing at them! I could do a good job!"

"I didn't mean it like that. I know you think-"

Kismet snorted through clenched features, doing her very best not to cry. "I'm going to do it and none of you can stop me!"

From that day on, Kismet worked weekends and only weekends - and she was considered one of the most valuable assets at the Desert Rose because of her dutiful demeanor. She had a tolerance towards men other prostitutes wouldn't touch. It was the least she could do. What happened if they had women at home who carried that weight?

Kismet wouldn't let them suffer alone.

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-29-2014

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The hand in hers felt small. Fragile. Taiga focused on the fingers, wrinkled with age. The nails long and decorated, but brittle from the years of smoking. The way it grasped her own, and how it the grip weakened. Gulping, the Fae did her best not to shed the tears that were inevitable, instead forcing a smile across her unchanged lips. "I won't tell her."

The elder in the bed nodded, decrepit with eyes closed in a desperate attempt to keep from wasting energy. There wasn't much time left. "She can't know. Not yet. But in time, they'll know... You'll find me there."

"I'm going to miss you." Taiga choked out, saline leaking as her emotions betrayed her. "I-I don't know what to do with myself. It feels like I'm replacing you. I couldn't do that, you know I couldn't!"

"I'll be there, Taiga. It will still be me... Just a different package."

Taiga swallowed and nodded, rubbing the back of the other woman's hand. "Okay."

"I love you."

"Always. I promise, always." Leaning in, she pressed wet kisses to the dying human's lips. "I will never stop loving you."

The two met a few months after Aithley's divorce was finalized.

The two lived in a townhouse in Cambridge, with a small dog named Rupert. The garden grew sage and thyme and rosemary, and Aithley loved to cook. Their nights were wild and loud because they would argue about everything, and follow the conflict with love making in their embroidered cotton sheets. Taiga kissed her neck, her throat, her finger tips and her thighs. She loved to kiss the other woman even when Aithley was mad, even when she screamed and threw various knick knacks across the room. In the midst of broken glass and a shivering Pomeranian, Taiga just grabbed the broom and swept up the mess. Even when she was angrier than she wanted to admit, the Fae loved her deeply. Truly.

She died early, a car crash, leaving behind two children Taiga was told to 'stay the fuck away' from.

Asher had a habit of getting into fights. Not with Taiga, but with anyone who looked at Taiga. Impulsive, volatile, and somewhat off kilter, this was an incarnation that sometimes scared the Fae. There was a loss in her eyes the Watcher didn't recognize, and it came out when she drank, which was often. They crawled through taverns and pubs and back streets clubs most of the time, fucking in secret where they could potentially get caught. There was always a sense of danger when they met, and Taiga would come back from working months at a time to a tirade of kisses and promises. Promises there would be less to worry about, that the bills would get paid this time around, and that no matter what, she would be better. Things would work out.

Asher had three abortions before Taiga persuaded her to keep the fourth one, even though she had no part in it's creation. A healthy boy was brought into the family, but shortly afterwards, Asher gave the infant up for adoption so she could continue living her unsteady lifestyle. Taiga found her after she overdosed, covered in vomit and sores, with nothing to her name but debt. The Fae paid what was owed and returned to the shadows, left to wait out the remaining years until the Goddess was reborn.

Taiga met Ansley at the ballet, after the show. Graceful and soft spoken, she was the closest in appearance to Aisling, and loved to dance to anything with a beat. Taiga would watch the grueling work, hours on end, mesmerized by how simple every swivel and pirouette seemed. They were a very reserved couple, and their relationship was kept quiet among their friends and family. Taiga was still working under Nic, but she did her best to be at every show with a bouquet for her beloved. When Ansley was put under contract with the Carrington troupe, she was happier than Taiga could ever hope to make her, and the new found opportunities brought upon a space between them Taiga couldn't cross.

They only saw one another in private after a few months, and towards the end of her career, Ansley had met a man who could give her something the Fae couldn't. Quietly, Taiga accepted being let go in favor of a family, and wished them the best. At 71, Ansley died peacefully in her sleep. The funeral hosted a great deal of guests, and a wing of the ballet academy she had trained at was named in her honor. Taiga first met the young Aiyane at the wake, and mentioned that her grandmother had been the most important woman in her life.

"Because you hadn't met me yet!" The seven year old exclaimed, and the Fae laughed with a nod.

"Maybe you're right."

Aiyane worked in television, starring on a show called Sculpt the Future. She was a well documented psychic with a gift few could argue, though she had been housed in the archives on cable channels, and she didn't understand why no one wanted to give her more than the barest recognition. "If they had me prime time, I would be raking in the viewers! Audiences, no, viewership loves me! What the fuck is their issue?" They sat together in the park, their shoulders uncovered to catch the last rays of the September sun.

"Maybe they're afraid of the backlash." Taiga offered, an arm around her mate's waist. "You know how the conservatives can get."

"Paranoid? Afraid? Hypocritical?" Rubbing her brow, she sighed deeply. "If I was the messiah, they'd be all for supernatural showmanship, but because I'm a woman, I'm suddenly some rambling crone."

"Fuck 'em."

"Yeah! I'll fucking show them! Fuck them!"

Aiyane wrote three books, starred in a movie, and had her own line of cosmetics. When she passed, she was a very wealthy woman, proving not all psychics were old white men with cheap parlor tricks. Taiga personally escorted several Westboro Baptist church protesters from her funeral, and acted as head pallbearer.

"You're a bit rough for me." Ashton said as teeth dragged against the shaft of his cock. The pain was centralized, intimate, and it made his slender frame quake beneath her hands. Taiga hadn't been with a man in probably a century at this point, so she quietly pulled away and offered a pouting apology.

"I'll be gentler, sweetheart." Returning to the act, she throated his thick girth with closed lids, picturing his expression in the forefront of her mind. She gagged twice, muscles constricting around the head of his manhood as he came, which hit the back of her throat with an alien bitterness.

They were the perfect couple in some aspects, appearing proper and prim for parties and social events. He worked as a Lawyer, and in this scenario, Taiga was the merry homemaker. The Goddess' gift ensured he won his cases, and he was considered one of the best prosecutors in his field. Together, they learned to adapt to a lifestyle suited for a man of his caliber. In such, he asked for many things the incarnations before him hadn't looked for, like a marriage and children. The first was easily done, signing paperwork she had never seen before in her long lifetime, and would likely never see again, but the latter was difficult to explain. Initially, Ashton didn't seem to accept that she wasn't able to carry his children, but they eventually came to the agreement that a surrogate would the right compromise. Both of their children with born through invitrofertilization from the same surrogate mother, and they were a happy family unit for the time they all lived under the same roof.

Taiga watched her adopted children grow into beautiful adults, a composer and a software engineer, and when her husband died of a heart attack in his early sixties, she shared with them that she would be needing to return to her previous life. After hours of discussion and arguments, the two agreed it was for the best that she move along, as it was already a huge topic of discussion that she hadn't aged in all the time she had been with Ashton. She remained in contact with her children until they too passed, and by then, they had started families of their own.

Aisling's legacy grew larger every generation.

When Taiga found Aindrea, she was a portrait artist for a magazine. It was a dying industry, but Aindrea had told Taiga it made her feel like she was carrying on a craft that let her see into the souls of her subjects. The two lived in Venice next to a series of canals that fed into the murky depths of the city that had already flooded, and they traveled everywhere on foot. Taiga put her motorcycle in storage for the time they were living in their flat, and though she loved the city and the people, she found this a quieter life than her last few had been. At times, she would ask Aindrea when she planned to move, or where she would like to go, but the other woman was happy just to remain on the riverfront. Even when Aindrea died of Leukemia, she specified that her ashes were to be spread across the canal next to their home so she could 'return to where she belonged'.

Ashleigh loved horror movies, and Taiga met her during horror week in Toronto. They discussed who did the best movie portrayal of Dracula over coffee and ended up sleeping together in a Holiday Inn. They were friends more than they were lovers, and they told goofy stories when they went out to the bars about how they had been soul mates, and that their past lives all interconnected. As she had promised, Taiga never confirmed this to Ashleigh, but the descriptions were always so clear, she had a hard time not doing so. These talents of soothsaying were wasted on working odd jobs and throw away employment, but the Fae always made sure to keep a roof over the other woman's head. When they became room mates, they were constantly together aside from when Taiga had to leave for assignment, but even on those trips, they were always in contact. There were even times she would bring Ashleigh along to see what she did for a living, which the other woman deemed 'Boring and borderline stalkerish'.

When Taiga received the call that Ashleigh had passed away, she broke every rule there was to the Watcher guidelines in attempts to try and understand what had happened. Her beautiful young partner was on a slab of metal with a white sheet covering everything but her face, which was still in it's frozen death expression. There had been a gas leak in their apartment, and while she was sleeping, Ashleigh had been poisoned. The coroner ensured the Fae it had been painless, and that despite the loss, Taiga shouldn't blame herself. Of course, the Watcher did just that. She had gotten into the habit of blaming herself for the avoidable, especially when it came to Aisling's reincarnations.

Asrelle found Taiga after she first made the journey from Earth to the new Terran colony of Isis. They didn't share names for several days, merely seeing one another in passing at the resort's bar. Asrelle was a columnist reporting on the civilian immigration movement, and Taiga was watching Nic stake out some two bit cheat who had conned the Morandori out of a fortune or two. They discussed their lives rather openly, and as Asrelle explained over her mojito, "Things are hectic, but I manage. At least I know there is another soul out there dealing with the same sort of bullshit."

Taiga loved her smile, her laugh, and her intellect. She was a heavy hitter, and went where the story took her, which sounded familiar in ways the Fae could relate to. A life on the road with stories to write. They dated for many years before they were committed, and when they finally decided to move in with one another, Taiga discovered Asrelle had started hormone treatments. "I just don't feel complete yet." Asrelle explained to a very confused Fae. "I want to be myself."

Asrelle kept his name, but soon looked as masculine and thick as they had hoped to. Taiga supported her partner through the entire change, though often found herself missing the old version of her mate, even if she didn't say as much. At this point, the Watcher had come to terms with the brevity of her relationships, and was guilty of dreaming of a future incarnation even while the past one continued to live and work. They had a fulfilling relationship, but towards the end, Taiga was scarce around. When Asrelle passed, they were noted as one of the most talented writers living on Isis. in her eulogy, she called Asrelle 'Brave and independent, without any fear of being criticized' because that was the truest description she could think of.

Space had been a strange place for Taiga, and she was always seeking humanity to keep herself from losing touch with the dreaming. The most recent incarnation's name was Aisley, and she was a criminal. A drug runner, to be precise. Stashing exports on a cargo vessel, she was in charge of insuring the goods made their way from point A to point B without the authorities catching wind of operations. Taiga had no idea of this for the first eleven months of their relationship, thinking naively that the other woman was a travel agent, and worked odd months. Even at her age, she could still be lied to, and at every turn, Aisley lied. Whether it be about where she was going or what she was doing, it didn't matter; she made sure Taiga was always second guessing her. Even after their lives took them from Isis to Tokyo, and then from Earth back to the far reaches of space, Aisley didn't bother giving the Fae the full story.

"If you needed to know, I'd tell you."

Aisley was finally caught in the outer reaches of the Quatro Relion sector with enough narcotics on board her ship to dope up the entire space station she had docked at. Taiga only visited her a handful of times, and through those visits, learned the other woman didn't even love her. Even their relationship had been a hustle. Taiga left the last incarnation of Aisling to rot in her cell, held behind enough security clearances that even the Fae would've had issues with breaking her out - but sometimes, it was best to let them sleep in the bed they made.

After all, the Goddess would be reborn soon enough, and that would be where Taiga would go.[/sub]

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 11-29-2014


Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-03-2014

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<font color="1979e6]"I'll shoot you dead in your tracks!"[/font] Kade lied though she didn't have a gun to keep her word with.<font color="1979e6] "I swear on every shallow grave I've ever filled, I'll blast that ugly mug off your fucking shoulders!"[/font]

Again, more lies. Kade wasn't even a good liar.

"So fucking shoot me. Why haven't you?"

Fuck. The voice in the darkness was mocking her, using a tone she didn't like that oozed with condescending amusement. it buried itself deep beneath her skin, past her dirty bruised exterior to sit in the pit of her stomach like an ulcer. The feeling burned with every passing second. <font color="1979e6]"Don't fucking test me!"[/font]

"If this was a test, you'd have lost."
<font color="1979e6]
"Fuck you!"[/font]

A figure approached from the shadows, all gaunt and whiskery with a smile across his chapped lips. "Ain't very ladylike to fuck on a first date. Who taught you to spit venom like that?"

Uneasily, Kade kept her hand on her hip, though the menace to her voice had dribbled away as soon as he started moving in. <font color="1979e6]"Ain't none of your business... Now keep your distance!"[/font]

"You're all tough when you're yellin' when you got fifteen feet between us, but you gonna be so tough in a minute when I get to you?" He worked all sorts of slow, taking his time with his creeping steps as his comments were rattled out. "You could run, I s'pose. Might even outrun me. Who really knows?" Kade couldn't tell if she had backed up, but it seemed to take him forever to get within range, all the while making chit chat. "Wasting time, you know. If you were gonna run, you woulda done better to start when you first heard me-"


Skull caving under the force of her blow, Kade hit him again for good measure, tire iron firm in her grip even as a spray of brain matter splashed her arms and chest. His body went down heavy, a loud thud reminiscent to the first strike ringing through the cool night air. Arms were shaking while she stood there, the weapon still in hand while her tongue moved to swipe something coppery from her lips. "Thanks for the warning, asshole..." The blonde dropped to her knees to rummage through his pockets, and upon finding little of value, she did discover a small note crumpled in an empty cigarette case.

I love when you stop by. Thank you for the flower. I have never been given a flower before. You are very sweet. I hope you are safe on the road. I will miss you.

Kismet Vereaux

Took her several tries to read the entirety of the scribbled message, and while it was written with better penmanship than most wastelanders were capable of, Kade didn't read so well. It was a testament to her patience she could read at all, but scavengers needed to know the very basics or they were liable to poison themselves why drinking something toxic. It wasn't the contents of the letter that stood out to the woman, but the signature at the bottom, which was unmistakable despite the last name being wrong. A mix of guilt and disgust seeped through her conscious as Kade tried to make heads or tails of the information.
<font color="1979e6]
"Please tell me I didn't kill your boyfriend."[/font] Kade mouthed while rocking on the heels of her boots, staring from the letter to the corpse.<font color="1979e6] "Fuck."[/font]

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-03-2014


Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-03-2014

[Image: ErHoZi6.png]

Gale winds brushed pale cheeks as the landscape opened up and introduced a rugged tundra, with glacial reflections catching the moon light like jellyfish within stark white seas. A hand of equally fair skinned digits reached up and brushed stray strands of silver hair from the vision of a woman treading through snow, each step crushing deep into the thick layers, compacting the ivory waste for temporary recognition. Until it snowed again, tracks could be followed and used in case she became lost in the snow; but why was she here, in the place of her child hood? Metallic grey hues ventured further off in the distance, to the huts and plumes of contrasting smoke that belched soundlessly from their tops, and a frown formed on her delicate features. She was still moving, traversing the plane, but a hidden fear seemed to bloom deep within that chest of scars. It was violently growing, expanding with each motion forward, until Cheswick found herself gasping loudly and buckling to her knees with a sob.

The snow, as crisp and clean as it had seemed, was tainted. Red spotches decorated the collective, deep and sinking deeper as they made to soak through the top most levels, with a smell so coppery, it was offensive to the creatures senses. Her hands violently shook where they had embedded themselves, fingers clawing at the given elements until it was crushed and melting against her abnormally hot skin. Vision didn’t tear from the scene, the portrait of her peers and kin, the acts done to them so atrocious that a battle hardy Wendigo such as she couldn’t cope with what had been offered by the discovery. Only now, she wasn’t that scarred mess anymore. Gaze lowered to her hands, child’s hands, while the streaming tears were muffled by the heavy fabric of her scarf.

From a distance, in the rundown village of huts and small fires and pelts of various kinds, one would see the lone child that howled piteously into the endless cold of night.

O – O – O

“-Shouldn’t be sleepin’ here. It ain’t safe, ye know.”

Beneath a bundle of old, dirty newspapers and other discarded trash, the Garou tried to ignore whoever had been trying to rouse her. After a few moments, and many unsuccessful efforts to block them out, Cheswick thought better of her temporary bed and rose from the garbage with a grunt of sorts. At full height, the creature stood taller than most, at least six feet and gaunt like a wanderer was often assumed to be. Her features were soft, sculpted for aesthetics, yet the girl seemed without reason to offer a smile to her company in the alley. <font color="8c8e91]“…ég veit.”[/font] She mumbled as her scarf was rewrapped over thin lips, and the coat she wore was given a good yank to straighten the material. Anyone who knew Cheswick could understand why she was so bundled usually, but with the city warming up towards summer time heat, her choice in attire may have seemed odd.

All the same, without anything more for the homeless individual now taking her place across the strewn refuse, the silver haired Wendigo shook out her dulled mane and proceeded off towards the inner city via the sidewalks leading towards her usual dive. Cutting across the street without a glance back at the honking commuters yelling profanities, her mind remained elsewhere; dreams were just dreams. She kept her hands pocketed for the adventure through downtown, jingling the various trinkets and baubles she had managed to collect while on the road. Her pack, which had been helpful for some months, seemed to want nothing more with this portion of Gaia, thus she made her way alone for no other reason than being comfortable doing so. It wasn’t like Cheswick was a stranger to being the lone wolf – but it did sometimes take her back to the past, and to why she was alone in the first place.

Etienne had once sat her down with others of their kin to watch some silly movie, and while the idea was cute, it seemed too relatable at the time and she had hated it. Something about a cavewoman and her difference in appearance from her tribe and how they cast her out to be alone, but she found a mate, and then lost him to a tragic accident. Cheswick was that woman, in another day and time, with no home to return to and a collective of other Garou who didn’t quite understand her tribe. Her pack was dead, and those she chose to move with at times were just the fill-ins for winter months; yet she didn’t look for more than what she had already found.

What point was there in replacing the past?

Cheswick would never give up being Wendigo because it was ingrained in her spirit. Her powers and her abilities and her very life all gave light to this, and yet, she could exist for as long as she wanted without acknowledging the fact. Without a trigger for that gun, no shots were fired. Alone, Cheswick lived the quiet life and there was no real shame in that. Her scars, the countless she possessed over her figure, were proof enough of her prowess, so why did she need to continue the charade? A quick flick of her tongue wet her chapped lips while her travels were coming to a close, with a familiar business front exposed to the wolf from her position on the other opposite street. With a dip through a neighboring alleyway, she spilled forth to venture towards the doorway of One Night Stand and pulled a previously mauled hand from her pocket to get the door.

The minute it opened, she felt a ping of regret from coming. Everything looked the same, but the faces were different, and no one she knew was actually present. The tiniest bit of hope had been that Braelin would be here, waiting for her, but it was dashed instantly by the lack of his presence. Not that she didn’t know from the lack of smells relating to him; she could tell two blocks away that he was nowhere near the bar… But she still wanted him to be.

Passing the lawman and the robot towards the stairs, there was no welcoming party for her, and there was plenty of reasons to ignore them if there was. Up the stairs she went, two at a time, until the ascent put her at the landing and let her stalk silently down to the room she had been renting for years now. Pulling what could be considered a key from her pocket, the shifter jammed it into the lock and jiggled it with a few snuffs of her nose before getting it to open and produce her habitat just as she had left it. A bare mattress similar to what the other rooms had, but stripped of decorations and void of detail. The door clicked shut behind her as she moved beyond it to the location of the pillows and sheets, all ripped and tangled and woven into a giant nest on the ground.

Her home lay there, in tatters, but it was missing her family. Her pile would never be home without that. If she was more familiar with crying, Cheswick may have considered the warm tears on her cheeks normal because of her current feelings, but it was all foreign to her sleepy mental state, so she just let them fall before stripping off her heavy winter wear and curling into a ball in the nest. <font color="8c8e91]“Enginn. Enginn..”[/font] For now she would sleep, if only to escape what clawed at her insides and demanded to be addressed someday. Elsewhere, a boy with red hair held the heart of a beast in his hands, and couldn’t do a thing to change that.

Not now, not ever.

Kat's Blurbs [Read only] - Kat - 12-03-2014