Fantasy The Last Judgement

[BELIAL.]

Harrison Rutherford

| Location: | Underground Passage to Throne Room
| With: | Allea, Nik --> Reverie
| Mentions: | Lekiel Hell0NHighWater

Things had progressed quite quickly for the simple, southern man. He’d seen a fair share of depraved monstrosities and dark outlines of humanity in his survival during this whole apocalypse thing; and yet, the fact that things were spiraling into a whole new realm of cruel didn’t leave Harry unscathed. It was safe, albeit claustrophobic, at the base. But at least there, he knew some things for sure.

He was a mechanic, he was soothed by creeping under vehicles and prying with undercarriages.

He liked to drink with his friends, and keep Declan’s daughter entertained.

He liked to make people happy.

In no way was he someone who killed ice zombies.

Ice Zombies! Harry hadn’t ever figured a thing could exist, let alone be right in front of him with purple strips of meat and flesh frozen solid to outstretched arms. He had a pistol on his hip and a rifle around his back. A machete was sheathed, attached to a larger belt. He did a fairly good job of teaming with Nik to cut down these monsters. He remembered faintly, as a child, reading novels and comics about zombies and the bands of people who got together to survive. He thought of it fondly, despite the frostbite teasing at the holes in his jeans.

To fight the cold, he thought back to the events that had happened so recently that they felt like a dream. There would be no more simple times for the man. He had been one of two, if there were others he didn’t know, there were able to escape the base alive. To hear that it was fallen, and that everyone was dead… it had taken a lot of willpower to not break down on the spot. Those people had been family to the man, and like the rest of the people in his life, they were dead as well. At least he had Frankie, someone to hold on to as a reminder of their time at McGuire.

But then of course, their group had split once again. Arriving at the Monolith and being filled in on certain events… leaving a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth that Scott could be so deceiving and evil. Surging ahead, everyone had a singular goal as they dealt with winged demon-beings and hellspawn of the ice: get the hell outta dodge and out of this frosty weather. He had listened to Allea when she spoke, and the other woman Reverie (both seemed to know their craft and trade, moreso with Miss Allea and her affinity with the dead) on their bit of journey in. Harry wanted to be at least somewhat aware of what was ahead… and what kind of retribution he could earn for the fallen of McGuire.

To his surprise, Reverie had fallen through a patch of ice. The whole damn castle was made of ice and full of ice, but Harry hadn’t ever considered that any of it would be thin enough (unless her body being thrown was enough to crack a medium sheet of it). The rest of the group dealt with the ice zombies and Harry raced to the hole. He stood a bit behind Nik, peering over.

“We shouldn’ leave her, even tho’ I believe Miss Reverie can handle herself -- or hope so, at least, it feels sour,” Harry said with his lips pressing into a thin line.

Nik seemed intent on trudging forward, and Harry frowned at the man. Knowing Allea, she’d probably follow after Nik. He treasured the ghostly beauty, even from their short time together, but even now he could guess her intents a bit. Still, couldn’t help but try.

“Do you figure followin’? I can… probably a few tools I got stashed to climb down. ‘Less you wanna head down ‘swell? Makes me feel mighty wrong just leavin’ her alone, ‘specially if she hit her head fiercely.” Harry bit his cheek in thought, despite already having subconsciously made a decision. He slipped his backpack off and rifled through it, hearing the clanking of some hooks. Not entirely impractical, he had mostly grabbed them because it was all on a tray in the hangar before they were ushered out quickly. He pulled them out and smiled cheerily, finding some stray rope as well. It wasn’t very long, but it would be enough to make jumping less of a chore.

“A’ight Miss Allea, you go after our friend there. I’ll make sure Miss Rev’s safe, and we’ll head on ova’ after. Just don’t have too much fun, you hear?” He gave her his signature wink as tied the bits of rope to the hook and secured it, as best as he could, over a nearby stone sculpture that had been destroyed into several (just as heavy) pieces settled into a pile. He hopped over the edge of the ice hole and slid down, feeling the rope slide between his gloved hands. Eventually it went taut, and lucky for Harry, there was only a foot or so between him and the ground. It wasn’t a terribly deep fall, but it was mostly dark aside from the glaring hole in the ceiling.

He yanked it a couple more times after he hit the ground and then moved off, squinting a bit. “Miss Reverie?” He noticed a doorway open, and the shadow of a figure moving through it. He figured best and moved in haste to meet up with it, relieved to see that it was indeed Reverie.

Light opening up, low ghostly candles lit by an eerie blue fire, and illuminating the hallway, Harry saw many grotesque sculptures. Or, rather, he hoped they were sculptures. They looked human, in the worst way.

“What in the god damn…” Harry muttered, running a hand over the back of his head. It was almost breath-taking, in the most wrong way possible. The sculptures ranged in expressions from morbid fear to downright eternal pain, captured in porcelain blue reflections. Hands were outstretched, with fingers cocked and curved like it wasn’t a choice to be frozen in place for eternity. The bodies had wounds, but there was no smell of death in the air, but rather a frostbitten meat smell to the hallway. They looked almost painted on, with rivers of frozen blood seeping from exposed neck wounds and eviscerated midsections.

He stole his gaze back, shaking his head to get closer to Reverie. “Are you okay, miss? Hell of a fall. Nik n’ Miss Allea went ahea’, and I figured we outta see them to the other side.”

Harry took another second to gaze about the hallway. If it weren’t for the sculptures, the hallway reminded him of something familiar.

“You know, this kinda looks somethin’ slaves woudda taken in the way-hey days. Some sorta servant’s passage, you reckon’? Maybe it leads to the same place the rest a ‘em are, above. Whattaya figure?” He scratched his chin. A sudden pinprick of pressure extended from Harry’s forehead to his toes. It seemed to be pointing, in a strange way that pain often faced a direction, toward another doorway at the end of the hall. The headache was sudden, but upon reflection he had noticed a bit of a dull ache as they had entered the big hall above.

He thought nothing of it, and continued to look at Reverie for some guidance.

 

[Chise_Robin_]

Location: McGuire AF Base || MONOFUCK'NLITH
interacting: Hell0NHighWater

Alaska Roberts​

She'd stood there, watching as he emptied the contents of his stomache, taking a moment to calm down. The coffee brown color returned to her tired eyes as she started walking slowly towards him.

Breathe thorugh your mouth was what she wanted to say. no matter how gross it sounds, the smell becomes less intense if you breathe through your mouth.

Instead, she put a hand on his shoulder, and waited until he finished, shaking her head softly when he tried to voice the apology that was already apparent in his eyes.

"Yeah, we should...probably leave." there was not even enough time to answer as his firm grip closed around her wrist, intensifying the difference between their sizes. Rhys started running, pulling the young hunter behind him, his grip reminding her of a parent, scared to death for the safety of his children. he thinks it's his fault a soft voice whispered n her ear as they passed Marcus's corps, lifeless eyes, wide open, followed them out of the base.

***********************************************​

Even though the windows were closed, Alaska's chest hurt everytime she took a breath. She wrapped an old shawl around her shoulders, it belonged to Stella....she thought, and watched for familiar bodies by the road as the RV drove away.

"Snowfall, would you do me a solid? See if there's any water in one of those cabinets?" It had been quite a while since the last time they'd spoken. With a small nod, she made her way to the back of the vehicle, hearing bits and peices of the converstation the blessed was having with the canine.

The RV looked clean enough, some of the supplies that they'd aquired from the convenience store from before they went to the air base were still there, thank goodness for that. Her happiness was beyond measurable when she found out there were bags of coffee -that she, and very wisely stuffed into the bottom of her backpack-

''Goooood heavens we've got rum!'' She'd held the bottle up to show it to mr Depressed pants when...
"Snowfall, did you have any luck finding---FUCK!!" she was flung to the front of the RV as he slammed the brakes, falling forward and almost breaking the bottle. ''SAFE!'' She shouted victoriously, holding her trophy up high when he'd asked if she was alright, and slowly stumbled to her feet sighing. ''Honestly Rhys, next time I'm driv....'' She stood staring from the window at the giant wall, and raised an eyebrow to the blessed that had informed her apologetically that they'd made it.

''Do you think we can get out there?'' a shiver went down her spine as she imagined the cold and she brought the shawl closer to her body. should we wait for them? are they alive? do we follow them? were the thoughts that went through her mind, but instead of asking, she poured some rum into two paper cups and handed one to Rhys before sitting down on the floor of the RV.

Woofus stood up, stretched his hind legsand walked towards her, only to collapse next to the young huntress, his head nestled in her lap. ''Now that i think about it, I think you were speaking in the nightmare.'' she took a sip as she run her fngers through the dog's fur, his only answer was a very calculated 'woof'

''Hey, are you ok?'' Alaska's gentle brown eyes searched the blessed's azure ones for some sort of comfort. It was hard for him, having been the one to orchestrate the expedition. She wanted to tell him that the air base would have been attacked either ways, that probably, he'd actually saved their lives. But she didn't really think he'd want to hear that right now, so she just asked the simple question, leaving the space for him to fill with words if he wanted.

 

[Anise]

KAYDEN JULIAN​

mentioned: @ whole famola
tags: Splooshy sploosh Lakyr , badass witch @ Amara's owner (sorry i forgot your account's name 'xD...pls don't kill meh, luv ya )
ooc: i'm a rusty old busy snail okay, don't judge lmao ..(luv y'all, let's get this party started again) ENJOY!










'They did it, they finally did it-''


His heart, suddenly filled with unexpected relief he hadn't felt for weeks, leapt just the slightest bit, only to be shattered like a frail porcelain vase to millions of pieces again. -A blow so strong it knocked the breath from his lungs and a stinging feeling of something razor-like cutting him alive. He curled inwards a bit, gazing at where the pain originated from.


His expression screwed in shock, his fingers curling in around what kayden thought looked like an old bone splintered at one end.


Out of focus he could see a blurry outline of a bony hand, the weapon nestled in it's tight, unmerciful grip.


A dark silhouette dusted with what looked like tiny gaps between bones, letting stripes of faint light through- was it that the skeleton he'd just cut its whole arm off recovered in only matter of seconds?


His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, then knitted back together again.


The time seemed to have stopped -white flecks dancing, slowly being carried around by a cold, biting wind. Like a fragile ballerina executing a stunningly perfect pirouette in a glittery tutu while a mercenary hiding behind a bush, caressed a dagger in his hands.


Blue eyes brought their full attention to the figure now.


Cut,


At the sight of it's agonizingly familiar features, he exhaled a painful breath, pain surging up his stomach, so powerful along with the stench of this cursed, rotten place, it made him want to gag his insides out and let the birds of pray take care of the mess.


Her,


The dead, fleshless man's jaw hung slightly askew – a result of kayden hitting it with his bow during the combat.


Now staring directly into soulless black pits where eyes of the fallen human once were, Kayden lessened his grip around the bone, one hand reaching behind his back where his fingers traced the side pocket of his backpack, searching for a dagger.


Heart.


Kayden yelped, his eyes fixed on the skeleton, wide open in horror - The bone had bitten deeper into his flesh and the hunter could recognize a content grin on the Bonehead's face when he did it.


He ground his teeth, left hand searching for the blade, the right one trying to prevent the bone from coming out on the other side his left lower part of the stomach.


Cut,


Finally, his fingers recognized the worn hilt of an old shortsword.


Heart,


Kayden brought it around and up,aiming for the foe's head, piercing through its skull with all might.

Out.


It cracked under under the blade's point, making the opponent stagger backwards in surprise, releasing the bone it was holding.


The hunter glared at the skeleton, his eyebrows furrowed. His heart hammering in his chest, the adrenaline rushing through his veins.


He knew that if he were to be attacked again, he most likely wouldn't make it for all his weapons were scattered all over the place-


-out of reach.











Suddenly, the skeleton's fleshless body started spasming violently before it fell limp to the ground, hitting it with a loud thud.

A feel of relief washed over Kayden's features, before he crumpled to his feet,then to the side. Breathing shallow breaths.


The hunter tried standing up but failed in his attempts. He felt heavy, powerless, his limbs as if they were made of rocks tying him firmly to the ground.


His vision blurry, the freckled hunter started gazing down his stomach. Te bone was still sticking out of it. Under it, a pool of crimson red liquid.


The guy slit his eyes, then opened them again.


Blood?


Mine? The words echoed through his head.


The hairs on his neck stood up, a pricking feeling of shivers creeping up his spine. His eyes trailed from Ryan to Amara and back before his vision blurred even more.


In his mind's eye he then saw the whole gang hanging out back at the haunted hotel. He could hear them laughing, cursing, just having a blast.

Posh Nik sipping on a glass of fine vine delicately.

He could taste the burning sensation or a rather obnoxious taste of a first glass of alcohol he'd drank in one go.

Alaska and James' first kiss.

The perplexed feeling he got when he first saw the two brothers together and how it lingered long into the night.

Drunk Penny putting up a silly performance.

He remembered Reverie sneaking up behind him making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up-



Kayden's fingers wrapped around the bone again, being reminded of the pain, before his mind drifted away once more, to the memories of entering a random hotel room with the killer of a pesky bell witch and the conversation that followed.

Like two young owls they kept talking long into the night until their exhausted bodies failed to keep up and shut down. -


His eyes stung-on the verge of tears, yet he tried to suppress his feelings, pain, when out of nowhere…


-''Rhys'' he muttered, his eyes glistening.

The thought of their leader hit him like a brick to his face.


Suddenly, he remembered.

Suddenly, the unwanted memories started flooding in.


- He remembered the bitter taste of betrayal and anger burning through his veins when the man he trusted the most turned his back on them and sent them to the mission.


Rhys gave him a nickname.- His jaw clutched-


-Traitor.


Rhys came up to him right before they left.-


-Traitor.


Rhys...-


-No.


...Was-


-Don't-


...The one-


-Please don't.


...To pull him into a hug first-


-And i was stupid enough not to forgive him.








Suddenly, he was afraid.

Afraid, he would die before he could tell Rhys what he really felt.

Afraid he wouldn't be able to return that hug he was given.

Afraid he'd never be able to hang out not just with Rhys, but with everyone in their little family…







...Death, he 'd lunged for so many times, suddenly became ..






...his worst enemy.







-He looked up at Ryan and Amara, wanting to smile, tell a joke.
Instead, he broke into tears, his voice small, sounding weird even to his own ears.


''I'm scared, Ryan,'' he began,


''I don't want to die. I have to tell Rhys-''


-The boy didn't get to finish his sentence - he started coughing uncontrollably, curling inwards a bit.




He'd never believed he'd say something like that in such a child-like manner he did…





Ashamed and full of regrets.



He was going to die.








Just a child.





Child.




After all-





he was still just a child.

 

[Lakyr]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Well of Souls
Interactions: Anise
Dear Mrs. Psycho [/div][/div][div class=title]Ryan[/div][div class=text]Ryan had been afraid because of this mission. Not of their task itself, but because he knew how close he was to his darkness. Because the constant roar of anger inside him was louder than ever these days and the craving for violence harder to repel. So he had been afraid for the dam to finally break. Afraid of reaching the point of no return which he was inevitably racing towards.

Hell had he been stupid, childish and weak.

Finally letting loose felt so good. The gun he had brought was a joy to play with but he was still getting close and personal in the fight. Smashing, breaking bones with his fists, shooting, hearing his targets splinter, throwing them with his powers. And stopping them, pushing them, crushing them. The only problem was that bones didn't bleed, but that was fine. He finally felt free. But he wasn't aimlessly fighting the things around him, no, he was marching towards the biggest entity and only breaking those that threw their bones at him along the way.

It dragged its massive, long arms, made of hundreds of bones, over the floor. A golem made of skeletal body parts, a despairing, faintly blueish glow coming from somewhere inside it. Looking at it you could feel the voiceless screams of the damned echoing through your body. It was quite literally calling for him. Ryan had a twisted smile of anticipation on his lips as he made his crusade through the room.

The thing's attacks were powerful but too slow. Even for how massive its arms were Ryan could deflect the strikes easily enough and hold them off so that he didn't have to worry about dodging. The shots he fired echoed through the hall, splintering several bones but it was more than obvious that a gun couldn't do enough damage against this mass. Also, the splinters seemed to be pulled back in again, he had to do more damage to it and do so faster if he wanted to hurt it.

Finally free, finally enjoying himself.

Ryan dropped the rifle and grabbed his hammer instead. It was much better for the job. The thing reared back and threw its arm at him with all its power, but he almost stopped the bones in the air without even noticing, rushed forwards and smashed through a part of the monster's leg with his sledgehammer. It sunk down a little, he turned and lashed out at its torso, breaking bones apart, and he saw the ribcage and the source of the glow, felt the screams coursing through his mind. The bones moved to protect that whilst he attacked, turning, flowing around the body basically, and then the creature backed away from him.

Suddenly, Ryan remembered. He dropped the hammer and reached for one of the grenades he had taken with him. With his other hand, he reached out at the air and pulled the demonic creature down to the ground, holding it in place. Some of its bones were crushed and broken as it tried to free itself. This was tough for Ryan, exhausting, but he could keep it locked long enough to slowly walk towards it, and longer if he had to. It freed one of its arms and lashed out at him, but he smashed the bony claw away with his fist, ignoring the bone splinters that dug themselves beneath his skin. Ryan looked at it with a bit of pity before he pulled the grenade's pin and thrust the explosive deep into the body. Then, he pushed, almost threw, the creature as far away from him as he could at that moment.

The explosion was like bellowing thunder louder. So much louder. Bits and piece, sharp bone fragments and shards, flew through the room, endangering everybody too close to the explosion. Ryan easily deflected everything that came shooting at him. Then he saw the creature, still moving, but smaller than before. The ribcage was laid free and cracked at places, it was hurt. It was crawling backward, away from him, but there was a wall. His hammer slowly flew back into his hand as Ryan strode towards the monster.

"That's it already?" he cocked his head as he looked at it, crooked smile, crazed gaze, and something dark in his voice, "Too bad, I had kinda hoped for more. Disappointing." Ryan raised his hammer and then brought it down at the remaining bones, aiming for the ribcage. Once, then twice, and again and again, feeling the screams surging through him, until it was broken and the weak glow was out.

He turned around to look into the rest of the room with a low laugh and the same expression on his face, "Come on, there's gotta be more! You can do bet-" The words stuck in his throat as his eyes fell on Kayden. The young hunter was struggling to get up and stumbled, a bone stuck in his stomach. It was like Ryan got hit by a car, kicked in the guts so hard he wanted to vomit. He realized that he wasn't alone again, realized that he'd lost control. His own internal screaming was back, angry that it was back behind a wall. He had jumped over the edge for a moment. But nothing about that mattered, nothing about him did, right now. He ran to Kaydens side.

The young hunter looked up at him and Ryan met his teary eyes. ''I'm scared, Ryan,'' Ryan kneeled down close to him and put a hand on Kayden's shoulder, feeling his own eyes sting. ''I don't want to die. I have to tell Rhys-'' Ryan started shaking his head, "You're not gonna die, alright? You're not-" he swallowed and tried to keep his firm, "I'm not letting you die, got that?"

"Fuck," he hissed the word as he turned to look up at Amara. He just looked at her, saying nothing, but it said everything. Could she help? She wasn't blessed, but a witch, so maybe? Because he couldn't help, all he was good for was hurting and killing things. If she couldn't help, Ryan would pick Kayden up and carry him wherever he needed to. To anybody who could help. To anybody who could save him. It was the least Ryan could do, after all, if he hadn't lost control, maybe it wouldn't have come to this. The only good thing for Kayden was that Ryan knew not to pull the bone before a capable healer was around.[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div][class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

Location: Near Throne Room
Interactions: Harry BELIAL. + Nik BasiliskVeranda + Reverie Lekiel
OOC: Didn't have time to code, but I wrote words!

The edge of her lip curled, nose scrunched into an open look of distaste. Everything was cold and wet and dark and damp --not to mention completely devoid of any sort of color-- she might have even liked it if the decor wasn't so atrocious. The walls themselves felt as if they breathed magic and she could taste the power radiating around them. It was like breathing in sparks or setting a wet tongue to the positive end of a battery. Dark russet orbs tracked along the side of the walls, noting the ice that infested the very surface of almost everything. It was a miracle at this point that none of them had slipped. Her eyes rolled, tongue clicking softly in disgust at Nik's words. Whatever he saw in that blessed asshole was none of her business, but it didn't mean she outright approved. Survival situations did peculiar things to people so perhaps they were both trying to cling to a sense of normality. If there was one thing the necromancer had learned though, it was that love didn't exist. Not when there was something to gain ---and there was always something to gain. The corner of her mouth pulled into a tight line, gazing out of the corner of her eye as the blond moved in shadowed hues. One of the most toxic things she had ever done in her own life was to ignore the bad in someone because she loved them. It made her wonder if that were the case with the emotionally constipated whitelighter.

Even if it were, that didn't make her sympathize. You couldn't hold much sympathy for the devil, even if he hadn't fallen yet.

Allea turned to Reverie, watching the fellow witch as she took the lead of their small group. There weren't many people she liked, but the white witch had grown on her. Perhaps it was because of their shared understanding of the power that ran through their veins? She thought about that for a moment, wondering just what had come over her. Allea didn't do anything or make friends with anyone unless it benefited her in some way. It was the only way to live. To survive. So when the other witch fell, the knee jerk reaction to reach out and try to catch her was...confusing to say the least. Her muscles tensed, sneakers skidding across a thin patch of ice. She righted herself just before leaning slightly forward in order to peer into the hole.

"Reverie!? You okay, Cher?"
There wasn't a response to that. Something knotted in her gut, causing a more pronounced frown to morph over her features. Was it worry? Was she really worrying about someone other than herself? Allea took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to distance herself from the situation.

“We shouldn’ leave her, even tho’ I believe Miss Reverie can handle herself -- or hope so, at least, it feels sour,” Russet orbs flickered over towards the one who figured himself a southern gentleman. Harry, his name is Harry. Allea closed her eyes for a moment to breathe before shifting her attention back to Nik. He looked genuinely more worried than she did.

"Do you figure followin’? I can… probably a few tools I got stashed to climb down. ‘Less you wanna head down ‘swell? Makes me feel mighty wrong just leavin’ her alone, ‘specially if she hit her head fiercely.” All this altruism was making her nauseous. How on earth had any of them survived this long? Good people died first. There had to be something she has that made her invaluable to warrant this level of concern. Or maybe they're just good people. As impossible as that was...it was enough of a conclusion to make her feel...insecure.

But would she really have just left her?

Yes...

“A’ight Miss Allea, you go after our friend there. I’ll make sure Miss Rev’s safe, and we’ll head on ova’ after. Just don’t have too much fun, you hear?”

Allea fixed her gaze on the other man, realizing that Nik had already began to push forward. It surprised her slightly that he would just charge off towards their objective like that, maybe she had him pegged wrong. Did the affliction from which he suffered impact his empathy? Then again, maybe he was just smarter than she originally thought. She nodded her head towards Harry, watching him for a moment as he got ready to follow Reverie. Such a simple boy, it would be so easy wouldn't it?

"I don't make promises. Just..."

To have him wrapped around your finger, bent to your every whim.

She paused, the words hanging off the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell him to stay safe, to make sure that Reverie made it out alive, but she didn't. To say those things would mean she cared and she couldn't care. Not again.

A useful pawn to a powerful woman.

"Don't keep us waitin' around too long," With that she turned and left, almost running in order to catch up to Nik's longer strides. She wasn't sure what awaited them at the end of the hall and past those towering doors, but she was sure that it wasn't anything good.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/453f8319cbc44803e5e031dff889e54f/tumblr_nc8l7vbRvb1renu7bo1_1280.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #023c7e; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #023c7e; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #023c7e; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:900px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Niklas Voss Isn't Stupid. This Shit Is Whack.
LOCATION — Bullshit McCastle Crap (near the throne room)
BGM — Santigold - Anne
TAGS — Allea Hell0NHighWater
OOC — let's get this party started~[/div]

[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
Niklas had expected exactly one set of footsteps behind him, and he had received only that. Undoubtedly, Harry—who was very much a Henry, and that inside joke that perhaps only he would understand made him smile at this moment—had gone down to rescue Reverie. To lend chivalry to one who would need it, but not want it, in the way that people schism between pride, protecting the ego, and accepting help when necessary.

Reverie was a woman in a tower of her own making; powerful, and removed. He stilled himself with the guilt he felt in shirking off towards their inevitable destination by the simple fact that he was convinced she'd understand. Reverie could see the big picture, from all the way up there, in that ivory tower of her's.

Understand that he knew how capable she was, that she didn't need him, and it would be a stupid play to prolong their frozen excursion.

Niklas was not a stupid boy, despite the stupid mustard-colored beanie he had lodged over his head painting him otherwise. Like a petulant punk off the streets of a frigid Queens burrow; borrowed scarves from an older sister perhaps, lodged around him, dipping him in younger shades.

Perhaps college days throwing snowballs at Diana was something that would be conjured. Frozen down to his bones, eyes narrowed, but soon there'd be a splash of lemon-yellow sun in those eyes as he reeled back his arm for a shot—hitting a car window two blocks over by the power of his tragic aim.

Or nursing a hangover, and nursing a cigarette, on a frosty morning on the steps of Olive's flat. Except in moments like that he'd most likely be in his boxers with a coat barely on his person, a mug of hot chocolate, and an even more bleary-eyed scowl. The image of an incapable man battling last night's crazy antics bled through his mind.

Yet he'd be the one to snag his galoshes to get the crew some orange juice to help kick their brains back into working order. Tracking tread-prints in sticky snow back through the hallway, to give his gifts—like he always did—to the people around him. Sunshine in a bottle, or a cup of juice.

Niklas was not a stupid boy.

He had gotten as far as he had by being a great deal more capable than his immature airs and wayward antics let on. And by being a great deal more afflicted. Here, in this moment, as Allea's steps broke into a run to catch his longer gait, he sucked in the air behind his scarf. Frozen bites of gasps licked at the cracks in his skin. The blond stood perfectly still for a few moments.

And then after what seemed like forever, he turned to look at the petite woman behind him, deep blue eyes flickering like a dimming fire.

"I have...a really bad feeling that whatever's going on is just...too much for us," he said, intimating that 'us' didn't mean 'them', it meant all of them. What they were up against could make a labyrinth and reanimate the dead. It could change the weather, or so that was the theory bobbing along between those that made the decisions around here.

Nik inhaled, a sniffled sort, rifling through his pockets to play his fingers on small stones, coins, and oddities. His clear blue lighter hitched against his thumb and he idled with it.

"I mean, look at this fucking place," with this, the blond stretched out his hand, punctuating the end of his sentence with a short, wry laugh. The kind people give after a hard day, after a series of hard days, and a series of hard weeks, months, years, and decades.

"Can't be helped though. We've been split up six ways to Sunday, weaker for it. Fuck," said the blond, managing to wrangle his scarf below his chin, yield one of the few cigarette stubs he had left, and light it up with a swift click. The orange ochre hues danced over his pale features, and illuminated the colors of the yarn about him. Franklin had used something with a tint, ebbing her own version of sunlight into the red crochet-work.

Like a little woodland Olivia, he thought. But he'd never say it, or else she'd turn as red as a tomato from the compliment, and the confusion due to lack of context. He laughed, something dry again, and walked forward. Every so often, he'd look back, to make sure Allea was within eyeshot.

"Long bloody hallways. Mazes. Zombies. Maggots. Angel bullshit—sometimes, you know," an anxious Niklas was a chatty Niklas, "...I wish I understood this shit like you did. Magic. How to work with it. How it even works. What all this is, or even what it might be. It's like I'm trying to paint by numbers and I'm missing the paints."

With his sentence dying behind a plume of smoke, his indigo gaze rested on Allea's face, and promptly died. Fettered away on a wind that was not there. He wouldn't get any sort of comfort here, he felt. But he would get someone who wanted to keep herself alive at all costs, and that also meant having him still standing gave her a greater chance of survival.

Even if wholly unhelpful, two heads were better than one, if only for the fact he could be a distraction for whatever would come to pass.

And what would come to pass, he didn't know.

Maybe he didn't give her enough credit; maybe she'd say something that would surprise him. Or help him fill in the blocks with paint.

He barely knew her. She barely knew him. Most barely knew him, and the one that did most of all was not his whitelighter partner, nor the State, nor the brother with his important keepsake lighter, nor the alcohol terrorist, nor the forest animal, or any other.

It was the coin in his pocket, that was now somewhere else, and had seen the legion of what he was, within nightmares, with her own two eyes. She had been a part of the chapters of his life, and now she had seen the later stories scrawled in red.

Who was Nik anymore? What had the apocalypse made him into? Was he the man, here, now, smoking a cigarette in the cold, smiling dryly, caked in yarns, talking with someone who probably only tolerated him?

Or was he the other part, the part that he needed right now more than ever, that he felt could carry him through whatever would come to pass. The part that ruined lives, that loved ruining lives, that lived to ruin them.

Where did he end, and it begin?

Ruminating wasn't helping the blond, and he instead curtailed it to offer a sincere smile, and let the smoke wave through his lungs like a calming sea. They were at the end of the line, now. A giant door stood before them, with two statues before it like bookends to another story, perhaps a compendium they shouldn't want to try reading.

Misshapen, but somehow still beautiful, they towered like Reverie's own self-made miles-high island in the sky. They had peculiar markings on their foreheads, like someone had gotten drunk and tried their hand at etching the side of a tree with a shoddy flint knife. At least that's what he thought he was seeing, but at this point, the hat was fighting his tussled blond hair, and creating a situation all its own.

"I've played enough of Olive's old-ass videogames to know where this is going."

The hat dropped, the cigarette was stuck squarely between his teeth, and the scarves were left abandoned. He'd have to apologize to Frankenstein later, if he didn't manage to get to them. If he could apologize later to her, that is.

No one knew what would soon await them.

This could very well be the last chapter of his story, and he would be none the wiser. In this moment, he made peace with whatever God he had long since denounced and spat at, and made peace with a dark God he was sure never listened and had simply been imagined-up by being the goth-broody little twat he was.

But he made his peace, he did. He made his peace, and asked for the people he cared about to be protected. No absolution of sins here; it was far too late for that. But he did ask; he did.

He asked because Niklas was not a stupid boy, and he knew he wasn't afflicted enough for whatever rested behind such a large door, in such a large labyrinth.

Or what rested before it, above them, inert, but looming.

He really wished he was stupid in this moment, maybe being ignorant of the connotations of this place would keep the fight-or-flight signals from throttling his bloodstream. Maybe then he wouldn't be grinding his teeth into his cigarette so hard.

Maybe then he wouldn't be saying stupid prayers for his friends via mental SOS to whatever existed beyond this world.

But Niklas was not, and had never been, a stupid boy.

[/div][/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Dear Mrs. Psycho]

Amara Blackwood

Location: The Well of Souls
Mentions: Just about everyone
Interactions: Elijah, Kayden ( Anise ) and Ryan ( Lakyr )

After her brother left Amara became a closeted madwoman, from the mixed feeling of betrayal and anger of Rhys and the fear and anxiety she was having over her brother and his mission to whatever godforsaken place. She did her best to hid it, knowing Elijah sent some people to watch after her, but occasionally she did slip off going off on a person here or there, or getting caught doing one of her nervous ticks, such as biting her nails, or fidgeting. It was hard trying to keep it in, but everyone in the group was suffering a similar ordeal. Plus the las thing she needed was for everyone to worry over her, or think she was going to blow any second like a ticking time bomb she really was, so she kept pulling together the pieces.

Things got worse when it was soon after revealed that everything Scott had said about the mission was a lie, or well mainly apart from the fact that only certain people can reach it. The danger was just as bad or worse.

The crazed Amara went with the second group after the first, mainly because with the lies, she thought she would kill everyone that was on the Airforce base side. She was so enraged with these people between their lies and her suspicions being right that they would not hesitate to watch their little group burn. Anyways, she was pretty sure everyone agreed.

The second group didn't hesitate to try to catch up with group one, not taking their time in the slightest to hurry and bring them up to speed on recent events at the base, which only took them a day or two.

"ELIJAH!" Amara called out as she ran towards her brother at the sight of him. Once she collided, she hugged him and started rambling on why she was there and even ranted about the base people, especially Scott. "It was a lie. This mission. Scott lied on what was going on. He let it slip around one of us that the mission was a hoax and that everyone can make it to the fortress, but it's just as dangerous or worse...." she went on. Until eventually her big brother got her to calm her nerves and settle down, before they hit the road to the fortress.

It was a long way to the fortress, took many days, even with the infrequent stops. The blizzard still was harsh, and made things plenty difficult. Between the heavy winds and the extreme cold, they stuck to remain inside the vehicles. Amara helped with her spells and incantations, but whatever force was creating it, the closer they got the weaker her defenses became to it.

It took a while, but they finally got to the Fortress and inside the Labyrinth, where the brother and sister duo split up, again, It was just as hard as any other time, but at the time easier, since they new they were going to get out ok. They had their whole team with them. They had people to watch their backs.

After the split, Amara walked with Kayden and Ryan, down a stony path. It was dark, though the torches helped somewhat with the light. It was wet, which probably was from the constant freezing and melting of the snow above ground, dripping through the ceiling. This lasted until they got closer to the Well of Souls, when various bones and skulls added to the decoration through the halls. The sounds of cracking dried up bones from under their feet also added to their environment.

The cracking also must've been the creatures alarm for intruders, or in his/her case food, because when they finally made it to it's den, it was awaiting them. It's eyes piercing it her soul.

The creature didn't spare any time on it's attack, heading for Ryan first as he was the bigger threat of the three. While his attention was set on Ryan, Amara did work on any attacks that may come from behind him. Killing any small targets, that may help at the creatures aid. Any small skeletons the creatures might create to distract. Basically watching Ryan's back from getting killed for not watching his own, until it was all over.

Well, almost.

The creature was dead, but another was also dying. Kayden. (Again.) Watching Ryan and Kayden, she felt for them. They had grown close it seemed. Really cared for one another. It got her thinking about how close her and her brother were, which is why when they looked at her for answers, she knew she had to help, because if it was her brother...…she would want someone to help too.

Rushing over, she knelt down next to the two of them and swung her backpack around. The first thing she found was Calendula, which would have to work for what she needed. It was great for healing would a building tissue, as well as combating viruses and bacteria, so hopefully it was good enough. She was positive though with a speed healing spell, it will work. He would just have to not do to much straining activities for at least 24 hours.

Wasting no time, she crushed up the herb in the baggie and set it to the side for a second. "This will hurt," she stated, as she yanked the bone out of Kayden, no use taking that slow. Chucking the bone away, she quickly grabbed the her herb and sprinkled it on the wound, rubbing it in it as she did so. At the same time, she whispered the strongest healing spell she could think of to help aid in the process and bring the healing properties of Calendula to life.

Within a few minutes, she saw the would start to close up and heal on it own. A sense of pride and accomplishment washed over her. She had done it. Her first saved life.

"I did it," she breathed out with a smile.

code by @Goldieloxx

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

Location: Throne Room
Interactions: Nik BasiliskVeranda
BGM?: Season of the Witch
OOC: Can't even code rn so this is what I've got

Allea ​

The air in this hallway smelt as if it hadn't moved in years, festering like a stagnant pool of water. In the stillness the air itself seemed to suck even the sound of their footfalls into the nothingness. A chill slithered up her veins, wrapping around her nerve endings until paranoia was the only thing she could feel. The further they traveled, the worse the feeling got. It took everything in her not to keep looking over her shoulder or scream into the darkness that followed them as if it were a sentient specter. She had always been used to the darkness, the calming of it, but there was nothing calming about the pitch that pursued them.

"I have...a really bad feeling that whatever's going on is just...too much for us," Amber orbs cut over to the blond, lips pressed into a flat line. She didn't want him to elaborate. He was scared. They all should have been, but he also didn't seem to notice the rot that stuck to the very walls. Ice interwoven with dead flesh and old blood, faces carved into eternal torment. Lost souls. Damned to an infinity held prisoner by a being that fed off of their energy. This was a fate she could never have imagined nor wished on anyone. Allea ran her tongue over the front of her teeth, determined to remain silent about the true nature of this hallway.

"I mean, look at this fucking place," Niklas should count his lucky stars that he couldn't see this because honestly, she wished she couldn't either. Allea sniggered, gaze darting back to focus on where she was walking.

RIP THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES.
Her pace slowed half a step yet refused to look. There was something moving in the corner of her eye, bent at an odd angle, crawling across the wall. Nik didn't react so she didn't either. Allea had become quite good at pretending, but playing pretend could only do so much. Her right fist clenched, long nails biting into the flesh of her palm.

"Can't be helped though. We've been split up six ways to Sunday, weaker for it. Fuck," Her breath caught of half a heartbeat, an invisible hand clasped over her mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces her heart, unloading in an instant. She felt her ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate her lungs. She wanted to run; She needed to freeze. Nik's voice was suddenly so very far away and there were so many of them. The faces and the shadows and the stench of rot and the fear and the screams and the voices and---

YOU'LL ALL DIE DOWN HERE.
"—sometimes, you know....I wish I understood this shit like you did. Magic. How to work with it. How it even works. What all this is, or even what it might be. It's like I'm trying to paint by numbers and I'm missing the paints."

"Magic, Cher, is like wine, and if you ain't used to it it'll make you drunk. There ain't a Goddamned thing about magic that you should wish for. All magic comes with a price and I have paid for this power dearly." She swallowed, forcing herself to remain focused on the living, breathing, human beside her. Allea wasn't usually one to engage in rambling conversation, especially when she had other concerns, but if it kept her from listening to them then she would do the macarena if she had to. "It is an agathokakological force, good and bad all mixed into the same soup." She didn't understand why she was explaining this to him. Though, maybe if he understood then he wouldn't wish for such foolish things. Allea turned her face toward him, angling her head up just a bit in order to meet his gaze, "You have a light," Her left hand rose, tiny beads of light spilling from the palm of her hand and mingling with her own blood, "An' you have a darkness. The deeper you dig, the darker it gets, the more you have to be willing to give up. I would think bein' afflicted an' all you could understand that." The light extinguished itself almost instantly, her hand falling limp to her side.

She let out an uneasy breath, forcing her gaze to move dead center once more, "Anyway, that's the best way I can explain it for now. Reverie could have 'er own interpretation an' I'm sure she'd be more forth coming with ya if ya asked."

DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD.

Her throat suddenly felt dry, arms prickled with goose flesh as invisible fingers reached out from the wall in an attempt to grab her. Without thinking she shuffled closer to Nik, not close enough to touch but close enough that she knew he was there. He was real.

"I've played enough of Olive's old-ass videogames to know where this is going." Allea hummed a flat note in response, staring blankly at the door that loomed before them. Every fiber of her being was telling her that now was the time to run, to get as far away as possible. "I ain't no coward, Charmer, but do ya think we should--"

RUN.

The door opened without either of them touching it. It parted a sliver at a time, taunting them with the idea of entry. She shifted her body weight for a moment, making the mistake of glancing back down the hall. There were....thousands...The fear traveled in Allea's veins but never made it to her facial muscles or skin. Her complexion remained vaguely pale and matte, her eyes as steady as if she were shopping for shoes. The faces looked as if they wanted to eat them alive. A sickness curled in her stomach and she was pushing Nik through the door before she could think better of it. The heavy oak swung shut just as the screams reached her ears. She jumped, wrapping her arms around herself as thousands of hands slammed against the other side of the door. The wood shook, metal hinges rattling but refusing to give. Then, just as quickly as it began it stopped.

In that moment she decided that if she survived this, she was running as far away from these people as she possibly could. In the past two years she had never had so many horrifying experiences as she had within the handful of days around this group.

The necromancer turned slowly in place, facing the throne room itself. It was too dark to see much except for the large throne at the top of a platform surrounded by azure flame. It bathed that section of the room in an eerie blue hue, ironically it reminded her a bit of the descriptions of the Greek Underworld. Her gaze traveled across the giant platform and to the figure sitting upon the icy throne. Shrouded in ebony robes, a monster that oozed magic that it was beginning to make her head spin. She leaned toward Nik, voice barely above a whisper, "Hope you got some ideas, Charmer, 'cause without Reverie or Amara this is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought."

Even that sickeningly sweet southern boy would be a welcome addition at this point. Heck, she'd take Captain Asshole too. Any extra body would have been better than the two of them fighting this alone.

Allea's fingers flexed at her side. Her jaw set, resolve settling into her features. There wasn't anything about this that she could half ass, it was all or nothing. She just had to hope that her all was enough.

 

[BELIAL.]

Penny Vale ​

Location: Throne Room
Mentions: Lich, Lich's Queen, Niylah Cara , Elijah Dear Mrs. Psycho
OOC: go nuts kids we're ending this

Rough, blackened hands clasped around each of the trio. The fingers were elongated, disturbed, almost like claws and dug into flesh like it was soft butter. There was something about dark magic, and the act of necromancy, that contorted flesh and stretched it far past the reach of the living. Penny’s head was lolling, her chin buried into her chest, and the blood that dripped down her eyes bathed the hallway in a red glaze. She wanted to vomit.

They’d been overpowered. The Lich’s queen had waved her hands, and her two minions had gone to work on the three. Penny recalled Elijah and Niylah putting up a good fight, and even Penny getting solid blows in. Somehow, somewhere along the line, it all went wrong. She couldn’t pinpoint where, and well, she could hardly see right now anyway...but the queen had something to do with it. Perhaps they overestimated how otherworldly the vampiress’ blood magic was. They bruised and battered the group; Penny was crying out not for her own pain but to try and taunt and scream at the monsters away from hurting the other two.

The queen seemed interested in something about Penny, perhaps the heavenly scent, and rather than kill them on the spot she had her goons cart the three up to the throne room. It was there that Penny’s memory truly faded, and the rest of the events before. It all blurred together. Just one big pool of blood.

The heavy clanking of the doors grinding against the frozen, stone ground made Penny raise her head a bit. Everything was still heavy. Bloody. She thought she could see someone sitting on the throne.

The queen’s haunting tone rang out. “My lord...Yet more pitiful subjugates try to infiltrate our walls...I have claimed three for your judgement. The blonde one intrigues me… what is it about her scent that seems so… odd?” To emphasize, the queen reached over and grabbed Penny roughly by the roots of her hair. Knotting the blonde locks, she yanked Penny’s head up painfully. She seethed out loud, letting out a small cry at the sudden jerking. Her head began to spin again.

As if physically repulsed, the Lich reeled back. One skeletal appendage waved in the air, and a low hissing emanated from the shroud covering his head. Blue, glowing eyes peered out as it leaned a bit forward.

“What you smell is heaven. A repulsive, nauseating representation of all that we fight against. Foolish woman, mistaking that smell for the one I want-- the smell of Hell. You may as well kill it. Where there is one, more may come. Quickly, dispose of this... cockroach,” It said as it leaned back, but giving slight looks to either side. Penny tried to catch on, but a hot flash of pain ripped down her shoulder-blade. The vampiress, clucking her tongue, let one silver-studded ring that jutted out like a broken bone cascade down Penny’s skin. It cut smoothly, blood dribbling out. Penny cried out again.

The queen leaned in close, chuckling hot air into the blessed’s ear. “I wonder what it will taste like to drain the heavens from your skin. Will it burn? Will it taste sweet?” Penny shuddered, feeling an anger surge in her. Her hands were bound, just as the others. Escape was not an option. This can’t be it.

On a daring move, Penny reared her head forward and smashed the queen in the head. More spinning, more nausea. Penny then spat blood into the cursing woman’s face. When the queen looked back up, there was a new, darkened glow to her eyes and complexion. She snaked out a hand and let her crushing grip force the scream out of Penny’s throat. “I will kill you, and I’ll make your friends watch. Cockroach.”

 

[Lekiel]

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Reverie Lowiezka​

LOCATION — Throne of the Undying Winter King
INTERACTIONS — Harry
MENTIONS — BasiliskVeranda BELIAL. Hell0NHighWater
BGM — It's too late
DESC. — Low loose ponytail, black dress, brown scarf, tights, black heeled ankle boots.[/div][div class=sidedetails2][/div]

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❖ ❖​

She started with more surprise than fright at the sound of her name uttered behind her. Snatching her gaze away from the icy grotesque hall of horrors she blinked tensely into the dimmer shadows of the room half expecting some shade made of dark trickery to come up behind her.

Who the hell calls her Miss Reverie anyway? She hadn't heard that since... a lifetime ago.

When the large frame of one of the erstwhile airbase denizens emerged from the gloom, all blue-eyed and concerned, a rush of mixed emotions flashed across her face. Relief was at the forefront, cause even for the solivagant witch, a warm breathing body was surely better than a dead one.

She looked around, trying to peek over his shoulder as if she half expected another blonde or honey skinned necromancer to come sliding to her rescue. But there was nothing else lurking in the shadows except for the wisps of an overly active imagination. The brunette let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She didn't know why, but she was thankful that Nik or even Allea hadn't come tumbling to her rescue. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind the fact that they hadn't tried to play the galloping white knights assured her that they had what it took to finish this. If not in ability, at least in heart. She'd have done the same for them, they understood that she did. Still a small part within her could not help but be moved that someone actually bothered to be stupid enough to come for her. Her brows set firmly as she turned towards the man. His name was Harry wasn't it?

"You shouldn't have come." It was an insolent comment, tinged with annoyance just enough to be misunderstood for impudent arrogance. It was also Reverie's way of saying thanks... but maybe, just maybe, no thanks.

Harry moved on past the snarky lithe elf to take a look down the hallway. His reaction was similar to hers.

It was a macabre display of ice sculpturing, as if a master crafter had carved those icy blocks to the theme, 'Frozen in Fear'. The fine hairs along her nape stood on end as the witch was suddenly assailed with an intense feeling of overwhelming fear. But it wasn't hers. Dread washed down the desolate hallway as a rush of chilling wind and she thought she could hear the cries of the forsaken victims wail on her spirit. Her head began to throb and her vision threatened to whiteout. A hand clutched at the nearby wall to steady herself, despite the icy cold ice stinging her palms.

“Are you okay, miss? Hell of a fall. Nik n’ Miss Allea went ahea’, and I figured we outta see them to the other side.”

There was just something about his genuine concern and chivalric attitude that set the white witch on edge. But all she could do was to grit her teeth against the headache and hiss out a deep breath. She closed her eyes and blotted out the outside world for a moment, just enough to let the crippling wave pass. Her tawny eyes shot open when her breathing steadied, fixing the polite southerner with a firm gaze.

"Yes, I am fine... Thank you Mister Harry." Despite her snide remark, Reverie winced as she reached up to gingerly prod at the back of her head. Pestiferous as he was, Harry was right. It was quite a fall. She had been very lucky to not have anything broken. But while taking a longer breather would surely do her good, she couldn't stand just staying put while her... friends, yes they are her friends, went up to face whatever horrors lay at the source of their frigid anathema. All the more she felt that Harry shouldn't have come for her. Two lost in the icy labyrinth down here would do the group no good. But what's done was done, they had to move quickly.

“You know, this kinda looks somethin’ slaves woudda taken in the way-hey days. Some sorta servant’s passage, you reckon’? Maybe it leads to the same place the rest a ‘em are, above. Whattaya figure?”

Reverie turned briefly to look at Harry, realizing that he was looking at a particular door down the end of the hall. The same one she had felt that torrent of dread washing from earlier.

"I figure you might be right Mister Harry." Reverie retorted, already moving towards the doorway. Something told her they would find a long winding stairwell behind those closed portals.
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[Hell0NHighWater]

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font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=liltitle] font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size:1em; display:inline-block; [/class] [class=miniBox] min-width:150px; padding:0.5em; border:1px solid #cacaca; height:20px; overflow:hidden; [/class] [div class="container"] [div class="flexcontainer"] [div class="basicsimg"] [div class="flexrow"] [div class="title tabi" style=margin-left:-1px;] Ⅰ.[/div] [div class="title tabii"]Ⅱ.[/div] [div class="title tabiii"]Ⅲ.[/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="persimg"] [/div] [div class="histimg"] [/div] [/div] [div class="flexrow tabflex" style=height:100%;width:100%;margin:auto;justify-content:center;overflow:hidden;align-items:center;] [div class="textbox basicsbox"][div class="scroll basicsscroll"] [div class=miniBox][div class=infobanner] ⋮ [div class=liltitle]Song[/div] ⋮ [div class=liltitle]Interactions[/div]⟿ everyone ⋮ [div class=liltitle]Location[/div]⟿ Monolith ⋮ [/div][/div]
“My lord...Yet more pitiful subjugates try to infiltrate our walls...I have claimed three for your judgement. The blonde one intrigues me… what is it about her scent that seems so… odd?” The fear travelled in Allea's veins but never made it to her facial muscles. She willed her expression to remain still, her eyes as steady as if she were shopping for shoes. She could not afford to let the fear control her. She could not allow herself to feel it. If she did, then it would render her useless like it always did. Watching Penny's limp body being manhandled by creatures --monsters-- far more dangerous than themselves did not help abate the panic. Allea could sense the fear and the panic and the anger pulsating in waves from the man beside her. Haphazard, jutting swirls of emotion that overpowered that sorrowful charm. She gripped his upper arm tightly, digging nails into the flesh, hopeful that it would be enough to keep him still. If he moved, if he spoke, if he made any sound whatsoever then Penny was as good as dead. Neither of them would be fast enough to stop what came next.

“What you smell is heaven. A repulsive, nauseating representation of all that we fight against. Foolish woman, mistaking that smell for the one I want-- the smell of Hell. You may as well kill it. Where there is one, more may come. Quickly, dispose of this... cockroach,” She supposed it was lucky that most monsters prefer to play with their food.

She never would have considered herself the self-sacrificing type. In fact, the idea itself churned her stomach. Allea told herself that she must have been sick, a momentary lapse in sanity that caused her to fumble for the tiny knife attached to her belt. There was no time to draw anything, no time to set up a spell that could give them all time to run. Allea was powerful, but without a conduit for that power it was virtually useless.

“I will kill you, and I’ll make your friends watch. Cockroach.”
Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip, hesitant for only a moment. She didn't have time to self evaluate her stunningly altruistic decision.

"Et per sanguinem meum iurare," The syllables rolled off her tongue with ease, no louder than the whisper of the shadows that began to surround them. She dragged the blade down the center of her palm, expression passive as crimson poured from split flesh. "Constituite diem vires ad opus," there was a waver to the words now, fist clenching as she willed her own blood to pump faster. The realm of blood magic was not something she tinkered with often, she'd like to think that it was a ridiculous waste of self energy. Most spells, the ones with any real power, required the casters own essence. There was always a risk of bleeding yourself dry. It was, in her humble opinion, stupid. Though she could not blame those like Amara who were drawn to it, that particular school of magic was one of the hardest to master. "In huius magicae, quia sanguinem." Allea closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the pull, the spark, of the spell, but it wasn't enough. Using her own blood as a conduit wasn't enough. She needed something stronger. Without the aid of a ritual or the power of another witch, there was only one other way she knew of to focus the kind of magic strong enough to do any real damage.

The Lich rose, a mass of tangled limbs, each one armor plated with a paralyzing goo seeping from black pores. Frighteningly empty eyes settled on where Allea and Nik stood. He must have felt the magic stir the air, churning like stale laundry in a washer. "Little. Witch." It sounded as if the very room had hissed those words at her. "Do you dare try to cast your tricks on me?" It took a step. Then another. Moving awkwardly as if it's limbs were too long and it's body far too frail to support itself. Allea didn't mistake those jerking movements for frailty though, not when she could feel it's own power rising to meet hers. And the Lich did so without a conduit, without a ritual. She had only ever seen Castor King wield forces of power on a whim, never had she witnessed that trait from any other witch. A part of her wondered just what sort of bargain this monster had to make in order to cut those corners so smoothly.

She grit her teeth, bloodied hand reaching back to clasp Nik's hand. She didn't ask for his permission and perhaps that was an error on her part, but the way she saw it there wasn't much time. Souls were not complicated things to manipulate. Pure life and pure death, they were flexible and infinite. Portable batteries, portable conduits. Allea did not enjoy the sting that accompanied the pull, yet her grip on him tightened. She was almost positive that he wouldn't be harmed, wouldn't even know what was really happening unless he chose to fight her. At this point she was betting on Nik to be too focused on the Lich, or on Penny, or on both to yank his hand away before she had finished preparing the spell.

"I don't dabble in parlor tricks." The Queen screamed like her body was rebelling against her existence -eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, her chalky face gaunt and immobile. Penny fell from her grasp as the Queen's hands began to dig into her own head ripping away hair and chunks of flesh. The Lich turned, immobile as his lover reached feebly for him only to turn to ash where she stood. The silence that followed was beyond suffocating. Allea pulled her hand away from Nik's aware that her blood was smeared into the crevasses of his palm. There was a strange moment where she hoped that he would forgive her. "...well that were a bit, innit? pretty gross too...yeuch." The figure was a flash of pale, silvery light, shimmering out of the corner of her eye. It appeared and vanished like a soap bubble and she realized that it was because of this place. So many souls crammed into one area, only the strongest could prove themselves beyond the faded smear of a person.

"It seems I under estimated you, little witch." Her gaze flickered back to the monster, his thin mouth drawn wide and feral. Once again fear found her. It spoke to her in its cackling voice. It told her legs to go weak, her stomach to lurch and her heart to ache. Yet she held her ground under the Lich's gaze. "Not that it matters. Pests should learn their place." A skeleton arm rose, grotesque and leathery like a too old corpse. Magic surged, she could feel it amassing into the center of his palm. Allea's eyes went wide, realizing too late just what he was about to do. Her arms went up to shield herself, ducking her head behind them as if they could protect her. Her eyes squeeze shut and she braced herself, waiting....

.......waiting for something that never came. Slowly, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Everything in the room had stopped. A complete stand still, but the Lich remained in the same position. She was confused until she saw the glinting edge of a blade protruding through the metal plates it wore across its chest. [/div][/div] [div class="tabimg basicstabpic"] [div class="home basicshome"]ALLEA[/div] [/div] [div class="textbox persbox"][div class="scroll persscroll"] The Lich made a garbled nose, a high pitched note of shock mixing in with the watery cry. It most likely did not realize that this is how it would meet its end. Centuries of hellish torment had removed any redeemable humanity from the creature. Not that it would have mattered much in the end. The monster wailed, sliding off the end of the blade. It crumbled to dust before it even hit the ground, purged from forever inhabiting the realm of men. "Follow justice and justice alone, so that you may--"

"Yada Yada Yada, spare me the soliloquies, feathers."

She appeared in the room with the alluring swirl of darkness, shadows crashing and receding in beautiful malevolence. She waltzed on with an effortless saunter, the clicking of her heels echoing across the entirety of the chamber. He supposed that to the naked human eye she must have appeared to them like a goddess, soft features with a harsh severity that spoke volumes about her true nature. Ruby lips curled into a grin that was downright lecherous, the golden rims of her eyes shimmering blood red in the absence of light. He made no outward retort, allowing the sword to vanish from his hands in a flurry of azure flame. "I was hoping that there would be more of a show, shame you stopped it just before it got good."

The hazel appearance of the human eyes he was borrowing threw a dull glance her way. His expression was still, calm, apathetic. "Leave them, Ashmedai. It is by the Lord's Grace that they have been saved today." She snickered openly, tossing tendrils of cinnamon locks over her shoulder, "The Lord's Grace can eat my entire ass."
His sigh was bone deep.
"Who are you an' what do you want?"

His attention moved towards the mortal witch, watching as her stance faltered. The bravery she had shown in the face of danger crumbling just as quickly as a house made of sand. Human acts always marveled him in their tenacity. Capable, but frail, weak, nothing more than children that didn't understand anything without a guiding light. They always questioned. Yet were never satisfied with the answers they received. He did not answer, instead moving towards the poor girl barely clinging to life. "Don't you fucking touch her!"

His head lifted, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. Palms spread out before him, he stopped moving, emanating the universal gesture that he meant no harm. "Emrys." The boy was out of breath, standing between him and the girl laying pone on the ground. His cheeks were flushed and there was a protective glimmer in those blue irises. The boy was a lot taller than the body he currently inhabited and he hoped that that made the human feel more at ease.

"I don't much appreciate bein' ignored, cher. Who, or what, are you?" The willful witch moved beside the mortal standing in his path, though she stood slightly behind him. He could only guess that she was forcing herself not to flee. By the way Ashmedai was leering, he could only suspect that she could smell the girl's fear. The monolith shook, debris crumbling from the walls as the magic that had once held this structure in place had been stripped away.

"Relax, child. I am not here to hurt you." [/div][/div] [div class="tabimg perstabpic" style=background:url(https://thumbs.gfycat.com/BlueSilkyKillifish-size_restricted.gif);background-size:cover;] [div class="home pershome"]RAGUEL[/div] [/div] [div class="textbox histbox"][div class="scroll histscroll"] ''Do you think we can get out there?'' He lifted his gaze out towards the tower, feeling uneasy being this close to it. Even its shadow felt...wrong, unnatural. His shoulders lifted slightly into a shrug, "Well, if there's a way in...there has to be a way out?" He winced a bit at how the statement felt more like a question than a confident answer. Truth was, he didn't know. He wasn't going to risk telling her that though, too much depended on this stupid plan of his and if none of them made it out...he would never forgive himself. He had thought he was doing the right thing, the only thing he could, to keep the group safe. Now he only wondered if he was the only thing putting them all in harms way.
''Now that i think about it, I think you were speaking in the nightmare.'' The whitelighter arched a brow, gaze lingering briefly on the huntress and the canine. Speaking in the nightmare? His brows drew together, confusion lingering in his expression. His lips parted to ask her what she had meant, but thought better of it. Maybe there were some things that were better left to the imagination. The last thing he wanted to associate with a talking dog was...that place.

''Hey, are you ok?''

No.

He was a little worried that no one had come out of the tower yet. Whatever was in there it blocked his ability to sense any of Ryan or Nik's afflictions. He couldn't even feel the soft hum of Penny's blessing. Finding them wasn't going to be easy, but they didn't have any other choice. There was no way in hell he was just going to let them die in there, especially since this whole thing had been his dumb idea. No amount of apology could make him feel better about this whole situation. He wished that he had simply gone alone. But then...they could have died either way given how the air base had turned out.

His lips pressed into a thin line, leaning back in the seat to just stare. The monolith was massive, an entirely far too imposing structure in the middle of nowhere. It made his gut wrench. He should have never have gotten any of them into this.

His hand grazed across the back of his neck, shifting in his seat for a moment before pulling himself into a standing position. "Are those Kayden's?"

Rhys' nose scrunched, mouth pulling a bit crookedly as he shuffled over towards the couple of boxes stacked on one side of a booth. A snort tumbled out of him, shaking his head in amusement as his hand reached out to confirm that they were in fact empty cardboard boxes. Rhys didn't know what the hunter was keeping them around for. Some kind of fort maybe? Perhaps Nik put him up to this --those two together were just absolute terrors. Who knew, maybe they had systematically managed to throw someone down a trash chute. He huffed a bit at the thought. Propping one of the smaller boxes back on top of a larger one, he took a step back to glance over at the greatest state.

"At this point, I think I should just stop questioning the kinds of things that kid gets up to."

The smile fell from his face almost instantly, replaced with a pained expression. His vision blurred. "God, he must fucking hate me." Rhys swallowed around the blockage in his throat, forcing himself to breathe. He would not cry. None of them were dead yet. He still had time. Rhys moved toward the back of the RV, rummaging through some of the cabinets for a box of ammo. Coming away empty, he cursed under his breath before turning toward Alaska. They were going to have to make a run for it. He didn't have enough bullets to blaze a path to wherever the hell the throne room was. IF there was a throne room. The Lich struck him as the kind of being that appreciated feeling powerful though and there was nothing like a throne that really shouted 'I'm compensating'.

"Hope you're up for a nice run, snowfall." He forced a smile, trying to keep the tone upbeat as he headed toward the door. He was half way down the steps when he turned towards Woofus and put up a hand, "Stay." The German Shepard whined, fixing him with a sorrowful stare before sitting down. Rhys smiled softly, "Good boy."

The two left the RV then, and just like Rhys had promised began to run. He didn't take time to look at his surroundings, pushing forward even when he thought his lungs might burst. He couldn't explain how he knew where he was going, or where he was leading them, but he knew the moment he saw it. He felt like he couldn't catch a breath, wheezing as he moved further into the dimly lit vaulted chamber. The first thing he noticed was Penny, on the floor, bleeding, and a figure moving toward her. Not recognizing the man, he stepped in his path without a second thought. From his brief survey he didn't see anyone else mortally wounded, but that didn't mean anything. He could barely steady his breathing enough to take in much of the scene. He would fight for them, all of them, tooth and nail before he allowed himself to collapse. Lungs be damned.

It was what the man said in response to Allea that sent a chill up his spine. He stood there, frozen, glaring, struggling to make sense of the environment. "Well, well, that is a lovely pet you have there, darling. I have to admit, you really know how to pick them." He felt breath fan across his cheek and he moved before he could process, gun out and hammer cocked. The cold metal pressed against the woman's head, "Back the fuck up, lady." She giggled, like he said something amusing, dragging her tongue across her bottom lip.
"He's cute too."
"Ashmedai."
She pouted, but backed away none the less. When he was comfortable with her distance, he lowered his gun slowly, turning his gaze towards the shorter man. The building shook once again and his pulse hammered in his head. This monolith was going to crumble in on top of them. He needed to do something to get them out of here. "Allea," his throat was dry, "I need you to get everyone out--"

"I'm 'fraid there's not time for that, cher." Rhys didn't enjoy the uneasiness to her voice. Nor did he enjoy the prospect of being crushed to death. He watched carefully as the man smiled at him, "Allow me."

One moment the monolith was crumbling in on them and the next, they were outside. He could hear Woofus barking from inside the RV, frantic and excited. The whitelighter turned slowly, meeting each gaze with his own; Allea, Alaska, Reverie, Harry, Kayden, James, Frankie, Amara, Elijah, Nyliah, Ryan, Nik, and Penny. All accounted for. His shoulders slumped, relief almost causing him to sink to his knees. In the distance, the ground trembled as the monolith crumbled to ruin. Azure orbs darted towards the man and woman standing before the group, realizing that perhaps it was too soon to feel relief. The man looked more weathered than he had previously, somehow appearing to have aged twenty years in the span of a second. "What the fuck?" He sounded like he had gone through reverse puberty, even to his own ears, his voice pitched far higher than he had meant for it to come out. The woman gave an amused snort.

"Do you remember, Emrys, what I told you of blessings?"

He stared. His throat felt dry. He didn't move to block him this time as he moved toward Penny, unhurried, clinical. He stooped down, pressing his hand to her cheek almost affectionately yet it looked so detached he couldn't tell if there was any real emotion behind it. "Blessed are those who act justly, who always do what is right--"
"A tool to fight for those who can not, a light against the darkness." Rhys finished his sentence absently, still staring, not wanting to believe, not understanding. The woman he called Ashmedai moved a step towards him, "You've already used too much power, Rag--"
"Raguel." His name left Rhys' lips as a whisper. The man stood from Penny's side, looking again as if he had aged a few years. And Penny, she looked completely fine. As if nothing had hurt her to begin with. Rhys blinked, realizing that he had healed her. Raguel turned back towards Rhys, the two staring at each other for a moment. "You're Raguel, the Archangel." He nodded at the statement, a slight smile pulling at his lips again. "I thought you were..."

"A voice in your head? No, child, I am very real." Rhys' gaze turned toward the woman at his side who was giving Raguel a rather worried look behind his back.
"Then who are you?" She pulled her attention to him faster than he had anticipated, her smile sharper than the edge of a knife. It was unsettling. There was nothing about her that seemed angelic, Rhys realized, watching as her eyes glittered red. Like rubies. It sent a spike of dread shooting straight to the pit of his stomach. The last time he met a red eyed demon...it had torn Nik's arm almost clean off and gave him a few broken ribs. "Ashmedai, Queen of Hell." Rhys' brows rose to his hairline, "More of a Duke at the moment, but we're undergoing some...change in management." He was quiet, looking between them. It was Allea who spoke first, a note of irritation and impatience clinging to her words, "So what is it that ya'll want?"

Ashmedai grinned, "Darling, that, is a very long list."
Raguel didn't miss a beat, "The Last Judgement is upon us, heaven and hell are engaged in an all out war."
"If you haven't noticed sweet cheeks, it's come at quite the price. The fall of civilization, destruction of humanity, armageddon."
Rhys narrowed his eyes at the demon, not really finding her flippant attitude about the whole thing very entertaining, "So what does this have to do with us?"

"Everything."

Rhys...didn't really like the sound of that. [/div][/div] [div class="tabimg histtabpic" style=background:url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/5bd9ae10ec9e71f8f8317b836795b18f/tumblr_no8t92kTuD1qg22hlo1_1280.jpg);background-size:cover;] [div class="home histhome"]RHYS[/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://live.staticflickr.com/7120/7699564540_7cc7fe5ec8_b.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #D5D3D3; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #023c7e; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #D5D3D3; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:770px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯. [/div]



[div class=speakeasy2]Franklin Hates Spiders, Niklas Hates Angels
LOCATION — Bullshit McCastle Crap Throne Room > Not...
BGM — The Church - Under the Milkyway
TAGS — everybody idk
OOC — I'm just moving them and making them confused, basically. Hi, hello.[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦?[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
The last thing the little woodland warrior remembered was spiders. A spider in particular, a long thing with spindling limbs that gnashed and quaked. Its maw dripped viscous fluid, and she dripped bullets into its sticky shell. She remembered Jimmy, James, Jim. She remembered her shotgun, her deft blows, stomping on the heads of web-laden, maggot-encrusted bodies. She remembered making a line for the exit after James. She remembered wishing she had cover; some tree to duck beneath and hide between verdant dips of leaves to scurry. Cover, for fire. Cover, for the hands that reached at her to pull her down to death.

Cover, and then the want was gone, because she was somewhere else.

The last thing the blond remembered was Allea, whisking something from him with her hand on his palm. Blood on that hand, and before that, Penny in danger. And before that, a curious conversation with Allea who seemed plagued by something he couldn't see. And before that, walking. And after that, flight. Fight. But it came on too swiftly, and he wasn't damned enough to do enough.

The problem with Niklas was that he had to be a monster to slay monsters. When he wasn't, he was about as useful as a gun that wouldn't shoot.

The gun Ryan had given him was unused; he had taken to practicing with Frankie, but it hadn't been enough time. There was something in his perception of distance that always kept the ability for him to wield the most devastating and important of weapons at bay. He knew where it came from; a blast near the ear from his youth in the streets of Queens. Psychosomatic, maybe, just to grip the gun he couldn't use would render it yet again, useless. Or perhaps that day it really had pocked a hole in his eardrum, and the only balance he could employ was on his person.

Always taut, fast, and mobile. But the moment something left his hands was the moment it flew off in the wrong direction. The moment of prior had very quickly left his hands, hands not ailed and afflicted enough to hold it, and quickly thereafter the moment had flown. Sped off in the wrong direction. The moment sifted through his fingers like sand, and he was returned next to the others, next to the RV, to hear the excited dog who borderline hated him.

Through his fingers, he had to do something, and he was never strong enough, and Penny was in danger, and Allea—and then the want was gone, because he was somewhere else.

"What the fuck?" Franklin heard the often irritated leader of their group mouth, in words that swept up like twisting leaves. She crinkled her nose, the shotgun still primed and ready in her grasp, and looked around at the others. Soon the shotgun fell slow to her side, and she peered beyond the large red scarf she had knit for herself. Her bright crystal-blue eyes dotted over their faces, and her own expression took a turn to mute embarrassment yet again. She always was a fern-red type of gal, mute in the face of others who stood tall like strong pines.

Here she was, a small thing in reds, with a gun possibly too big for her body, covered in cob-gunk and God-knows-what-else, and with eyes large enough to look like saucers.

"Y-y'all...what i-in the hell jus' happen?" she stuttered, fumbling with her words, "Wuz blastin' bugs doncha' know-knows it, then..." Woofus barked, ending her sentence. Franklin tried to peel what cobwebs she still had on herself off with her hands, and found them sticky. This warranted a grating little grumble.

The short woman furrowed up into her scarf with a disgruntled sound, and took to planting herself next to the RV. She pressed her back to it and held her shotgun in her arms, eyeing the others over the cocoon of yarn.

"I...I don' know nuffin' 'bou—y'all crazier than a gawwdam badger stuck in a—y'all tell me ta' git n' I git, is what, and now I seen a—" she rambled on like a pissed woodland critter chirping out little warning squeaks. The red-haired girl managed to dig her hand into her back pocket, unearth the blunt she had promised the man who had given her sardines, and yanked down her scarf. Within moments she had lit the blunt, and had hunched over to inspect her weapon. The blunt stuck from the side of her mouth, and she scowled like the sun had spit in her eyes.

Frankie was still covered in webbing. This only proved to irritate her more. She shouldn't have come with them. But if she hadn't, she'd have been made into mulch by the maggot-zombies, and she knew it.

Now, there was a beautiful woman with red hair, and a man that kept aging, and people were talking, and she was confused, and she hated spiders. She hated—

"I hate them damn spiders!" she said, her thoughts spinning down, slowly, as the weed siphoned through her senses. She grew calmer, but no, she didn't stop fiddling with her weapon, or being moderately irritated. This was all too much for her to understand, and Franklin hated feeling stupid.

She hated, hated feeling stupid.

Niklas hated feeling left in the dark. More than that, he hated pompous-ass superbeings chit-chatting in half-truths ad infinitum as both he, and the whitelighter, produced the same exact question.
"What the fuck?"
"What the fuck?" parroted the blond with considerably more retained vitriol, who was now rifling through his coat pockets for the last sole cigarette he had on his person. Finding a half-snubbed remnant, he jammed it between his teeth, lit it with his clear blue lighter and gouged the surrounding area with his piercing indigo gaze.

"Do you remember, Emrys, what I told you of blessings?" Niklas quirked a strong brow, and stalked over to Allea, just as Rhys had flooded towards Penny. They both had their paths to clear and people to check on. Niklas trusted his other half with Penny; he knew Rhys wouldn't let that coin slip through both their fingers. And it did absolutely nothing to have two grown adult men clawing their way towards her. They couldn't both be her hero right now. Nik was also, not, a hero, and he never had been.

Clearly, whatever this Benjamin Button motherfucker was talking about wasn't meant for his ears, and he was more intent on helping the witch who had, somehow, in some way, perhaps, pulled the most weight in this fight.

Outside of Old Man Jesus and the red-haired very-not-holy-woman who gave the blond pause, of course.
"Allea, you dead yet?" he asked with a short, curt laugh, looking over her face to rest on her topaz eyes, "No? Good. Means I get to keep annoying you."
"Also, what the fuck?" he asked yet again, into the air, into the breeze, into space, into the cold, through the smoke in his mouth. This would be a day of 'what the fucks' to remember.

He momentarily locked eyes with Franklin who had the blunt she had promised him stuck in her mouth.

"God damn it, Frankie!" he seethed through his smoke, still stooped near Allea.
"I mean it, are you al—" He turned his attention to her yet again, but Franklin had her own barrage of bulleted words to shoot his way. She was scared, and he knew it. But she had also gone back on her promise, which he knew that she knew that he knew. The woodland creature made a grinding groan.
"Wah!? I ain't do nothin', doncha knowsit's mine anyway, haw?!" she barked back, the loudest she had possibly been around the group so far. Niklas' deep blue eyes narrowed to slits and he let out a long, patient, slow-rolling, smoke-filled sigh.

Trying to bring this all together, and trying not to lose his shit. It was time for a roll call while the Peanut Butter Wonder talked to Miss Hell 2068 and some shithead who probably pissed holy water.

"Alaska, Reverie," he said in a low yet audible voice, sweeping his piercing gaze over the rest of their crew, "Harry, Kayden, James—FRANKLIN—" she cocked an eye at him as he rattled off their names, and then she proceeded to burrow into her scarves.

"Amara, Elijah, Niylah, Ryan...Penny," Nik said, jerking his head back to watch the things he did not understand talk to the stupid man he loved who also did things he did not understand, and then the lot of them did things he still did not understand. He was, as always, lost. But Penny, she was alive. If he was lost, and his coin was still with them, that was fine by him.

"Ashmedai, Queen of Hell. More of a Duke at the moment, but we're undergoing some...change in management." The blond snorted and then took to sitting. The ground was cold and damp, but then again, he was cold and damp. The chill seemed it would be dissipating, however, which was good. But the chill he had in his bones looking upon the woman with the rolling red hair and vicious red smile didn't dissipate.

They were pawns in the hands of things they couldn't possibly fully understand. Pawns, and not bishops. But the whitelighter, the peanut butter bandit, the justice-boner worshipping criminal who had stolen his heart, the flawed man with the dark tattoos, oft clenched jaw, and oft gruff exterior, was.

He was something different.

Nik sat back a bit and closed his eyes, nursing the cigarette between his fingers. Ash fell on his red coat. He had lost Frankie's scarf and hat in the mess of things. He tilted his head back, opened his eyes, and looked up at the pale, apathetic sky.

"The Last Judgement is upon us, heaven and hell are engaged in an all out war."
"If you haven't noticed sweet cheeks, it's come at quite the price. The fall of civilization, destruction of humanity, armageddon."
"So what does this have to do with us?" Rhys said, which was exactly what Nik would want to ask, but knew that the question really didn't matter. It was painfully obvious. Emrys was oblivious.

"Everything."

"Of-fucking-course it does," seethed the blond, twisting his cigarette between his fingers to smoke, a scowl on his face, "of-fucking-course."

The blond part-time devil shifted and looked over Penny's face, trying to find her gaze, hoping she'd be fine, and she'd open her eyes, and give him a smile. It seemed Ragu Sauce, as he was now dubbing this creature, and Ash Ketchum, as he was now dubbing the other one, had managed to save them all.

Or something.

"This is the New Years incident all over again," Nik said, referencing something that not a lick of the others but Penny would know. Because he told her. The night his former gaggle of friends became far, far too intoxicated, and dabbled in plenty of things they shouldn't have. They awoke to confusion, and weeks had passed without them saying a word. As the memories came back together, and the story stitched itself into place, they were left to pick up the pieces. Confusion. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal.

They never again went that far, but at times when they got together for another bash, a sinking feeling would overcome them. Henry, not so much, as he was a bit too daft to care. Niklas, definitely not, as he enjoyed causing chaos and Diana all the same.

But that feeling was sweeping the group now, he could feel it. Confusion, hurt, and possibly anger. Betrayal, because they simply did not know what was happening. And at the center of it all was a pasta-sauce bastard, a saucy-devil-minx, and a man who was only just learning his place at the heart of their story.

The blond let his gaze travel to find Rhys' own. Deep blue eyes spelled...well. Nik didn't quite have a word for what he was feeling. Sorrow, maybe. Or fear. Or perhaps, exhaustion. Or all of those wrapped up in the eyes of a now quite-a-great-deal-more afflicted man, who was feeling many complex emotions, behind a too-big red coat, and the failing smokescreen his cigarette provided.

"...Out with it already," half-said the pawn to the old king who no doubt wielded the knight—his knight—in a game of chess that the lot of them didn't even know they were playing.

Niklas was not a stupid boy. But he was an angry one.
[/div][/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[BELIAL.]

Location: Outside the Monolith ruins
Mentions: Rags, Ash, Nik, everyone, Rhys Hell0NHighWater
OOC: HNGNGG

Penny Vale ​

Sunspots broke through her fluttering lids, the pristine white snow reflecting pure daylight into her eyes. This was nothing like the monolith… the throne room… the Lich. They weren’t there anymore, that had to be the case. They had gotten out, hadn’t they? But how? Things were grim the last time Penny recalled, through the open wounds and slices to her flesh. Blood had pooled in front of her eyes but she had been able to fight for an inch of her life. She’d spit in the witch’s face, but she was sure her throat was going to be on display for the frozen statues in the room. A price to pay for fighting against evil, Penny had been willing to go out with a bang. Was there anything in the blessed rulebook that said you could pull a holy grenade and cup it in your chest?

No, but perhaps that was for the better. It seemed there were things in store for Penny-- and thinking back she knew more than ever that that was the case. Nik needed her, the group needed her. If one piece of the puzzle was gone the image would be broken. Everyone was integral to this mission-- this path to survival.

A hand gingerly touched the skin on her cheek, flooding warmth in from her pores. It filled her system in a way familiar, and yet strange. Being healed by a blessed, by Rhys, had been straight to the point and did it’s job. This was stronger and smoother. A well orchestrated flood rather than a stream. Her entire system lifted.

The pain substantially lifted when she opened her eyes, but there was an ache that settled deep into her bones. Her clothes were torn and soaked in blood, but there were no tender rips to her flesh. She was… healed? Coming to, though a bit dizzy, she surveyed the scene. Two new contenders she didn’t recognize, and the monolith in a pile of rubble and ice behind them. She frowned but turned her attention to the scene. She caught the last bit of conversation and using newfound strength she wobbled to her feet.

Her blurry haze swept across the group, drowned in their own hazy glory. Although her body was healed of wounds, it did not let the nerves stop their screaming. Endlessly firing, she felt her limbs weaken as she roused herself to some semblance of coherent. Nik was talking now, he looked at her. She weakly smiled back, but the headache between her temples pulsated at a techno beat.

“...Out with it already,” said Nik and Penny felt his anger; smoldering, blowing. She shook her head, waving a hand to the others.

“A battle of heaven and hell...that has to mean more than pushing us around like shuffleboard pieces. This is about being… what we are,” she said with a gesture to Rhys, “and what else we are.” With a look to Nik and Ryan, she wiped the still-wet blood from her face. Her head lolled a bit between her hands and she measured the weight of her knowledge-- still a bit woozy from the blood loss. From her dipped head, she looked up at the man and the woman; a frustrated sneer on the blonde's face. “Am I on the right track?”

Penny sighed, moving with a shaking hand toward Rhys. She had thought she was okay to stand but it was becoming exhaustive, and he was a nearby rock. “I’m tired, this day hasn’t ended yet... and I’m going with whatever they are saying. I-It’s more sense than I’ve gotten in two years; some semblance of a…. god damn explanation!” Penny didn’t curse, but she was beyond her limits now. Thankful for the save, slighted to be betrayed, and exhausted from the fighting.

 

[Cara]

Interactions: Elijah, Penny & Everyone
OOC: Sorry for being soo late, but on the bright side, I manged to post before Friday this time :3 ^.^

“Idiot... Fucking idiot” was all that Niylah could think of, they walked right into a trap and now they have to find the group they sent to die and bring them back... Before they actually die. She sat in the back of the car looking through the window but not seeing the outside… her eyes were focused on one point of the window but her brain was showing her something else, going back through every paper, note, drawing or anything she ever touched in that base that would help her understand what the fuck was happening.

When the car finally stopped, the joined the first group and headed up to the fortress. Niylah walked in the back, she tried to focus on every smell, turn, shadow… she counted the group, looked behind, tried to memorize the turn they just made, counted the group again… she didn't want to admit it but she was freaking out. All this time she was on the road, nothing that dangerous, although they didn't face any danger yet, but she’s not stupid enough to neglect The warning of the dead owners of the books she spent her free time reading in that freaky base, people missing and never heard from again. She counted the group again, with her eyes, she didn't want to them to think that she was frightened, it was a habit she couldn't get rid of, every hunt she went to with Maya she had to check up on her every turn, every now and then, just to make sure she was alright. Another turn, she looked behind then back to the front again.

.............................

After forever, they were finally in inside the castle, they split up again. This time she went with Penny and Elijah. They went up to yet another hallway when Niylah started having a really bad feeling about the whole idea if them being there right now… it’s okay Niles she though trying to calm her-self down when suddenly a figure appeared at the end of the hallway. “You have got to be joking” Niylah couldn't hold back her comment at the sight of the vampires and her minions

Focus Niles, she shook her head in hopes of finding a good plan to get them out of this mess… okay, doors shut, probably locked so that's a dead end. She shifted her sight to the end of the hallway meeting the eyes of the vampires in the middle, three of them three of us, probably more of them if the doors aren't locked. She fought a lot of vampires before so this shouldn't be a problem. The two soldiers were easy but the red queen was sure strong... if she could lore the soldiers out of the way, Penny and Elijah would probably be able to kill her…

She glanced at Penny and Elijah then put both hands on her daggers, took a deep breath and just as the two vampire soldiers started moving towards them, she pulled her daggers throwing one at one of the vampires and running towards the other, she aimed for the heart but she missed, all these fights with vampires and she never once missed a clear shot like that… but he was too fast, and she missed. Just as she was realizing what has happened the vampire was in front of her kicking her and throwing her hard towards the stairs they just entered from. She landed on her arm covering her face and neck, then leaving no time to think for a plan B, stood up and tried to aim her other dagger at his… where the hell did he go? And she was flying across the room again, normally she would sarcastically comment on how the vampire wasn't "wasting any time in the fight", but this time she couldn't; she wasn't strong enough … hell she wasn't strong at all. The thought sank in as her body hit the Wall then the floor. She tried to multi task, giving orders to her body get the fuck up pull the gun and shoot while trying to breath but there was no time, the vampire was in front of her in over a second pulling her up and almost crushing her throat. She had no idea on what Penny and Elijah were going through, she couldn't see, she couldn't breathe … she just heard their voices, Penny screaming. She tried to fight back so damn hard, managing to escape from the vampires grip and kicking him so damn hard and trying to open her eyes … but the vampire's hand wash back on Niylah's thought again in seconds, she could feel her blood crawling on her neck and hands, then everything went black …

.............................

Blonde, Heaven, Hell, Foolish, Cockroach, Kill…

.............................

Niylah opened her eyes only and jumped up, going directly to defense position, just to see herself along with the rest of the group outside “But… but, there were vampires and we were inside??” she said confused and looking around, wow her head was spinning. "Dang it I wasn't strong enough" She mumbled sitting down, remembering how she got her ass kicked in there. What the hell happened? She passed out half way through the fight and she couldn't remember a thing. She took another look around, everyone seemed there, everyone looked bad as hell but surely not dead, so that’s a win...

 

[Anise]

KAYDEN​

Mentioned: everyone
Interactions: mah dude Lakyr and my stick Hell0NHighWater
ooc: dis is a heavy ton of bullshit, i'm sorry xD '





He tilted his head, his weary gaze trained on the outstretched contortion with what looked like five light brown twigs protruding from it. It was hard for him to really tell for the tears still obscured his view what the moving thing was until it came closer and the well of tears was finally bone dry.



Ryan.



Slowly, with a lot of effort Kayden tried pulling himself up by driving his elbows down into the frozen ground. Feeling his trembling arms would soon give way under his weight, he took Ryan's hand gingerly- when the image, the world around them started twisting as if in a dream. Loud bangs echoing, landscape melting away like snow did in spring. Reality distorting.



Panic overtook him for he felt as if another hell hole had just opened to engulf them all in flames. He clutched onto Ryan's hand as if fearing of loosing him - the only reality he could find at the moment. When-



-''Amara.''



Kayden flung his right hand in her direction, splaying his fingers out, reaching for her hand-but she couldn't be seen, nor heard, or felt.



Then, in the blink of an eye the world stopped spinning around and the ground stopped seeming to sway under their feet.



Now, the picture differed completely from the one just a moment ago. The frame stayed the same. It was the photograph in it that changed, portraying not inevitable doom and the loss of hope anymore, but a reunited family again.



Suddenly seeing familiar faces of people he loved, or at least thought he loved, his head started feeling a bit dizzy. Letting go off Ryan Kayden lost his footing again. Breathing heavily. One hand clutched to his chest he started counting to ten, eyes darting from one figure to another until they squeezed shut with relief. Everyone was there.



Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw Rhys, Nik and Penny talking with some strangers - Nik and Rhys doing most of the talking for Penny was still seeming to be recovering from something. Was she hurt?



His eyes narrowing on the group, he tried to overhear their conversation, soon regretting his nosiness. The nonsense that came out of the two strangers' mouth made his cheeks flush, every once of his body screaming that something was terribly wrong, the two souls of the newcomers' heavily corrupted.



Thank god Nik demanded some answers, but then something unexpected happened. Penny waved a hand to him and Rhys, silencing them.



“A battle of heaven and hell...that has to mean more than pushing us around like shuffleboard pieces. This is about being… what we are, …and what else we are. Am I on the right track?”



Suspense was in the air. It seamed that everyone went still, afraid to move even a single muscle.



Everyone were eager to hear what Penny had to say – while Kayden started to question his own existence. Why were hunters even a thing if heaven sided with hell? Why was their task to kill demons if the hell creatures attended every day tea parties in the gardens of heaven?



Rage started building up with each passing second, his hands trembling a little, yet he remained at his position – like a time bomb ready to explode.




Penny Hands shaking, approached Rhys and went on: “I’m tired, this day hasn’t ended yet... and I’m going with whatever they are saying. I-It’s more sense than I’ve gotten in two years; some semblance of a…. god damn explanation!”



Now Kayden, shook by how quickly she let herself be defeated, scrambled up to his feet and took part in the conversation,



''No, wait! Explain it to us!'' he yelled, his cheeks read with rage.



The strangers continued standing there in mocking silence.



''Explain us!! Tell us why all this shit is happening!!''



Frantically, his hands shaking, he felt his pockets and belt for a weapon or any kind of an object that could be used as one.



Not finding anything, his eyes fell on Rhys, accusing.



''You did this! It's all your fault!'' he yelled in a hurtful voice at a man he once looked up to.



Immediately, he charged for him. Forcefully grabbed his clothes. Lifted him up before flinging him directly into the male stranger.



''Seeing you two together you actually don't look that different,'' he said in a mocking tone, then paused before uttering another cry, ''I thought i could trust you!''

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://live.staticflickr.com/7120/7699564540_7cc7fe5ec8_b.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #D5D3D3; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #023c7e; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #D5D3D3; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:770px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯. [/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Nik Is Mom, Confirmed
LOCATION — Outside the ruins of Elsa's castle, or whatever
BGM — Fake Plastic Trees (Cover by Alexa Melo)
TAGS — Anise BELIAL. Hell0NHighWater {I'm just tagging who be respondin' to, pls chime in}
OOC — hellmorm gave me the tweedledee / tweedledum responses xD ayyyy[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦?[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
Penny waved away his anger and it felt like a line of red had been drawn across his field of vision. Being patient and waiting for answers wasn't something he was very good at. Being measured was also something he wasn't very good at. Being halted when all he wanted to do was crush things between his fists was also something he wasn't very good at.

But these were impulses; long since known and long since reasoned with. He had had to wield them carefully, or else they'd swallow him up and deposit him in his Nightmare. Every thought and feeling had to be siphoned and filtered. His filter was scuttling after all this time. It was scuttling moreso now, as the lexicons they needed were standing right in front of them, offering mediocre syllables.

“A battle of heaven and hell...that has to mean more than pushing us around like shuffleboard pieces. This is about being… what we are, and what else we are.” These are pretty words, he thought. Pretty in the way that something understated was pretty; like a quick glimpse at a color unexpected. He hadn't expected Penny to drive the conversation while the only representatives of heaven and hell stood in their midst. But his admiration died fast; instead, the cigarette resumed its choreographed dance from lips to air.

A smokescreen came up, blotting his acidic stare at the vestiges of good and evil, who were still hardly doing enough to explain just what board they were shuffling on in the first place. There was more to this, there always was, and easy answers would create more difficult questions.

“I’m tired, this day hasn’t ended yet... and I’m going with whatever they are saying. I-It’s more sense than I’ve gotten in two years; some semblance of a…. god damn explanation!” And what fucking explanation is that, exactly?, he wondered. His deep blue eyes found purchase as the smoke died, vying for the ex-detective's eyes to search. To search, and to wonder, hitching like a typewriter in his gaze. This was more complicated.

Penny bowed supine, exhausted from it all, and Nik let out a long, meandering sigh. As if no words would do him any good in this moment, because the words they all needed were not his to give.

He needed nuance like he needed the heady rush of nicotine in his veins. He needed exactitude like he needed his face pressed up against a headboard. He needed specifics like he needed a disgustingly sweet girly drink with far too much vodka in it. More.

He needed more—they all needed more—than whatever it was these two specters in skin-suits could give them. But they were only human, and humans, he guessed, couldn't very well understand the inner-workings of the universe. Yet they tried to, and had tried to, for centuries. Heaven and hell couldn't blame them all for trying.

Niklas let his anger fade and kept it between clenched teeth. No amount of sarcastic, truth-seared humor would get them closer. He let his eyes close slowly, tilting his head to the side as if listening to something beyond them all. And he was; a crow, a thing of night, a warning of the result his extreme emotions would bring. His flavor of madness liked to make itself known, even in times when it shouldn't.

''No, wait! Explain it to us!' Kayden said in a shot-gun of a phrase. Niklas' eyes flicked open, the cigarette hanging from his lips. Here was rage. Here was honest rage. Honest hurt, and honest pain. Kayden said exactly what had to be said, but he knew that look on the young man's face. He knew that tremor of war. It would go beyond; this he knew.

'Explain us!! Tell us why all this shit is happening!!'' with shaking hands the young man yelled out, then sought something in his pockets. Nik took to standing very slowly. Olivia had been this way, at times. One wouldn't have known with just one look at her diminutive brightness, but raw anger took many forms, and not always where you expected. Unfairness had been something she grappled with, and many had been unfair to her.

The blond let smoke wind from his mouth; this was going to escalate.

Niklas had a decision to make. He could be as sarcastic as he always was, or he could man up. He preferred to snarl and coil, or be violently, impossible happy. There were no compromises for the polar sides, at least there shouldn't have been. The weight of being unable to help the people of the past that he had loved was a noose that still choked.

''You did this! It's all your fault!'' No—

That day, he had decided what he was, because it had apparently been decided for him. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't the good guy, he wasn't the type of man who comforted—hell's strange affliction made that dark black spot on his soul painfully clear. He had been this way, for a time. A black slip of a shape across the sprawling murals of wherever he found himself. Red and black, pitch and mire, death and pleasure. Nothing more than that, and nothing less.

But in this case, with this group of people he had adopted as his family, he had found himself warm and bright. Sunny in a brushstroke of smile; what could melt him to tar was rare, and he had to chase it. He was used to chasing it like an addict chases a hit. He still did, but he needed it less and less.

Patience was like a doppled page waiting for someone else's words to take shape; he let them. He hadn't let anyone mark the pages of his life for years. He wasn't sure the others knew the extent. But caring to care and not caring for a thrill had been rare. Now, not so much.

He sought stillness, and had found it, often, and by the grace of whatever he had done to deserve this family, he would give it when he could.

Here, he had to give a stillness, because at this moment someone had broken. Like a snapped canvas, the wood had buckled under the weight of all that was and was not. The gentle colors had bled out in jarring words painted red, black and blue. Then, Kayden had hefted Rhys by some ungodly force of adrenaline, to knock into the angel in their midst.

''Seeing you two together you actually don't look that different," Niklas winced at this, he could almost feel Rhys wincing in turn.

"I thought i could trust you!''
"Kayden," the blond said, rounding his friend with a clear, calm stillness to his gait. Every motion exuding nothing but acceptance; hands raised up, cigarette between his teeth, a slight smile, a soft glimmer in his eyes. There was no token-Nik anger. There was no part-time devil to be found, or intern of hell to be seen. This was Nik as he would've been, as he should've been, as he was when he wasn't being a petulant shithead.

The angel turned, a quick jerk of the head that felt foreign, like something that attempted to imitate the human methods of motion and wasn't quite getting it. "You forget, child, that the pieces are what make the game. And some of them," Angel-fuck's attention flickered toward the rather grim looking detective, "hold more value than others. But that doesn't mean the rest of those pieces are useless. To call them pieces at all is an injustice --humanity with all it has suffered and overcome is far more than just a mere pawn on a chessboard."

That's not going to make this any fucking better, Nik thought. It was a pittance; a placation and not an explanation.

The demon snorted, peering at her rubied nails as if they were more interesting than the conversation at hand. "It's not your job to indulge them, feathers. Humans often believe that their lives hold more importance than they actually do. What's at stake here is more than just some piles of flesh suits. The world, your world, is rotting. And a nasty bunch decided that in order to remove the rot it would be easier so wipe the slate clean. Personally, I wouldn't disagree except---" Dipshit number one gave the red-haired demon a death-glare, halting her words.

"It's not good for business," she continued, as Nik gave an eye-roll as his response.

Nik guessed as much. He said nothing to either of these nothing-answers, and instead, took Kayden into a hug. Not the kind where men float their hands on a shoulder and say stupid phrases to negate the attempt at comfort and understanding. Not the kind that patronizes; the kind that says I get it, and this is some absolute bull.

He had read enough fiction, had seen enough movies, and had known enough of the hypothetical hypocrisies of heaven and hell to know this was always a possibility. But it was still not specific enough. It still wasn't enough. Not for him, nor for the young man he was trying to calm down by being a literal mom, nor anyone else.

The blond held on for a time, in silence. The cigarette had lost itself on the cold earth to smolder. Kayden's words had found purchase. Maybe, in this moment, Nik wasn't just trying to console the young man who was pained beyond all pains. Maybe he was also trying to console himself, because he almost felt the same. Yet he didn't blame their leader. He blamed these two shit-heads for making this entire journey as obfuscated as possible.

They were not making their case very well, either.

From beyond Kayden's shoulder, he raised a strong brow at the pair in their midst, as if to realign Kayden's dagger-filled words. The targets: you. Start talking, or fuck off.

"Let's be mad at tweedledum and tweedledee. They're the only ones who can make sense of this shit-show," the blond said as he stepped back and looked over Kayden's face, "and I'm sure Detective Peanut Butter got roped into this bull without signing-on, either. We're all fucked, but we're fucked together." Classy.

Niklas' gaze didn't move from Kayden's face; hoping in his heart his friend knew he was on his side, that they were all on his side, and that they'd figure it out together. He gave the other man a rough pat on the shoulder, then stooped to find his cigarette. He brushed it off like a heathen and it went back between his lips.

"Well?" he gestured, sarcasm dripping from his movements, "we're waiting." And finally, they spoke some sense.

"It was not the intention to create--"
"More like infect," the demon muttered. Tweedledee cleared his throat, "Angels and Demons are created through exposure to divinity or damnation, but the soul begins as a human. When the gates opened some of those...energies leaked into the earthly plain. Causing the process to move along a bit faster or corrupt unexpectedly."

"That is some abso-fucking-lute bull—" the blond caught his words between his teeth. This meant people were made into something, with exposure due to something else. That was lack of a choice, just like he hadn't been given a choice, just like how Penny hadn't been given a choice, and Ryan, and Rhys, and on and on, forever. Oh, the hubris, to be so very powerful and think this 'process' was ever fine and dandy to start.

These were the specters of mammalian machinations; a type of natural infection. Woops, there goes your free will. The bubonic plague had also been natural. Tweedledum was correct.

Niklas wanted to be mad again. He felt like his decision to be a calming presence and Nik-mom and all other assortments of 'chin up kiddo' or 'we got this' in the form of a man-hug were at complete odds with what he truly, truly wanted to do right now. Which was be very angry. Instead, he sucked on his teeth like he had just eaten a lemon. Metaphorically, he just had.

"Enough preaching, listen and listen well children, if these gates do not close your world will be consumed. Do you understand that? Gone. Destroyed. Nada. Without humans there are no more souls, without souls well...that's a reality I'd hate to think about. So what we need you to do is simple: close the gates."

"Let me see if I got this straight," Nik's voice was incredulousness made manifest. He found his hand on Kayden's shoulder. Tweedledee seemed like a brick fucking wall and no amount of flinging his very tall partner into him was going to do anything, and he didn't want Kayden to try again.

"You're saying some chuckle-fucks decided the planet has an uber version of the Marburg virus, and it needs to be trashed," the blond found a headache coming on, and pressed the bridge of his nose, "Then, they left a bunch of gates open to do just that, and tainted everyone in the process?"

"How'm I doing? Is that about right?" the blond was trying, very, hard, not to be angry. He wasn't sure it was working.

"Sorry, excuse me—back up—"

Niklas stood perfectly still for far too many moments, head tilted to the side, his hand on Kayden's shoulder, his jaw clenching, his eyes closed. Finally, his deep indigo eyes spelled out the torrent of war he had tried to keep Kayden from pursuing further. Molten rage paired with a smile that was too-sweet to match, hitched at the corner. The smoldering cigarette between his teeth burned like his glare.

"Why do we have to solve a problem we didn't create? Why is this our fucking burden? Explain it to me like I'm five." Or don't, fly away and leave us standing here more confused than before.

These were the exactitudes he needed. That they needed. They needed this. And yet, Niklas had the sinking feeling they wouldn't get it.

Not until it was too late.
[/div][/div]
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[BELIAL.]

Penny Vale ​

Location: Ruins of Lich castle
Mentions: BasiliskVeranda Hell0NHighWater
OOC: anGRY MOM

Feeling faint, with only a grasp of strength, she was forced to stagger backward when Kayden roughly grabbed Rhys. She opened her mouth to say something but the blistering headache snipped her tongue right out of her mouth. Holding her body, she masked her horror with a tight-lipped grimace. The kid was upset, for sure, and blaming Rhys. There was some connection between him and the angelic figure... she was sure of it. She faintly remembered the events after the hotel and Rhys carrying her out. Some essence enhancing his regular blessed-ness. Was this the answer all along?

She hadn't meant to be complacent in the steamrolling that was happening to humanity when she wanted to listen to the two newcomers. She wanted to hear them out, and she wanted a glimmer of hope that there was some heavy hand dictating things. If that was the case it meant there was a purpose, a reason, a being. Rather than stumbling blindly with supernatural powers, perhaps there was a meaning behind it all. Some hidden cheat code to unlock the full potential, or to restart the game. But this one came without a manual, and as it happened, there was little method to the madness.

She was glad that Nik went to Kayden's side, to give him some semblance of calm. A buoy in a storm. Nik had a warmth that not even the most unholy of fires could contort into evil. He made sense and injected the very same thoughts that everyone was happening as the angel and demon unraveled their master plan.

Was she upset? It made sense, but that didn't mean it was fair. They were pieces of a game, there was no sugar-coating it with a blow of smoke up the ass. Heaven and Hell had their intentions and humans had that special something that made everything just a little bit more exciting. Was that it? Was it amusing to watch families ripped apart, souls corrupted or loved ones lost to the darkness? The light? Whatever bullpoop they were spewing had a tie to the inevitable fate of her sister. Her twin. What she became was nothing human. Was she fated to follow in a similar path toward obsolescence?

For some reason her mind cleared, hearing Nik express the group-held confusion. Why did they have to bother with this nonsense? Why was it so integral that humans be the ones to pick up the pieces and save the planet? Their home? She was beginning to catch on, slowly but surely. Her emotions weren't masking her thought for some reason, and they simply slipped between her fingers like sand.

"Nik," she breathed; hummed. She met his eyes and shook her head. "I don't think... I don't think that they want us solving a problem we didn't create... but they need us. It's how we've put the whole thing together. A mechanic repairs a car because he knows how, and because he's good at it. The clerk in the front, a brainless intern, doesn't because he has his own talents... his task. They need us to do this... why do you think there's been so much trouble to keep Rhys alive... to keep us alive?" Her tone became bitter, and she snapped her head to the angel and the demon. Another glare in their direction. A heat perfumed her cheeks. There it is...

"You use us, you puppet us and then you demand the world of us...Why? What's so special about humans? We're messy and unfortunate and we care too much about the things we love--" she gave a haggard breath, growing even more annoyed. Irritated. Fed up with the circumstances. "Is that what's so priceless? That we aren't... empty-headed lab rats?"

She straightened up, feeling some of the pain ebb away to the edge of her senses. Walking toward the duo, her hands shook a bit. Penny tucked them into her elbows and crossed her arms indignantly across her chest. She leveled her gaze, flickering between the two. "Why are you here? Both of you." A sneer to the redhead, purely from the stench alone and the tickle that punched her in the gut.

 

[Lekiel]

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box-sizing: border-box; border-bottom: 1px solid #ededed; padding-bottom: 25px; [/class] [class="notherpfp"] --insta-profile-picture: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/42/2f/6a/422f6adca0a45a448c542d3502b10158.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--insta-profile-picture); background-size: 140%; background-position: 50% 5%; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="i"] flex: 1; [/class] [class="l"] position: relative; margin-bottom: 25px; display: flex; align-items: flex-start; [/class] [class="mdpfp"] --profile-picture-for-mood: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bb/46/e7/bb46e762ecf387d1c811b7f10ee6eaf2.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--profile-picture-for-mood); background-size: cover; background-position: 20% 50%; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="mntnspfp"] --profile-picture-for-mentions: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c3/64/fb/c364fb5d95a54435519904a47051ac65.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--profile-picture-for-mentions); background-size: 120%; background-position: 45% 5%; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="ntrctnspfp"] --profile-picture-for-interactions: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0d/04/41/0d044192cc5586881a8c80f262af0e36.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--profile-picture-for-interactions); background-size: 110%; background-position: 50% 10%; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="lctnpfp"] --profile-picture-for-location: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/9f/ad/45/9fad45973deffbb4b188de746de3cb11.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--profile-picture-for-location); background-size: 90%; background-position: 50% 50%; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="tftpfp"] --profile-picture-for-outfit: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3c/d3/c3/3cd3c351362953f1d75eddbe9c1058c1.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--profile-picture-for-outfit); background-size: COVER; background-position: CENTER; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="pstpfp"] --profile-picture-for-your-text-post: url('https://i.pinimg.com/564x/60/dc/1e/60dc1e329fcf4a7f78942b4c5c59ff6c.jpg'); height: 25px; width: 25px; border-radius: 100%; background: var(--profile-picture-for-your-text-post); background-size: 140%; background-position: CENTER; position: relative; margin-right: 10px; [/class] [class="line"] height: 1px; width: 100%; background: #bdbdbd; [/class] [class="home"] height: 21px; width: 20px; background: url('https://i.imgur.com/zfaceu8.png'); background-size: cover; background-position: center; [/class] [class="search"] height: 21.5px; width: 21px; background: url('https://i.imgur.com/K1jPpBO.png'); background-size: cover; background-position: center; [/class] [class="add"] height: 22px; width: 22px; background: url('https://i.imgur.com/jwKfqZH.png'); background-size: cover; 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[div class="container1"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background1"] [div class="phonebar"] [div class="a"] [div class="b"] [div class="signal"][/div] [div class="mobnetwrk"] Vodafone [/div] [div class="wifi"][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="time"] 8:13 P.M. [/div] [div class="c"] [div class="d"] [div class="percentage"] 27% [/div] [div class="battery"] [/div] [div class="charging"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="igbar"] [div class="kcab"][/div] [div class="photo"]Photo[/div] [div class="e"][div class="refresh"][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="igbar_2"] [div class="k"][div class="back"][/div][/div] [div class="photo"]Comments[/div] [div class="e"][div class="dm"][/div][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="border"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="container2"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background2"] [div class="postbar"] [div class="f"] [div class="b"] [div class="bigpfp"][/div] [div class="charging"] fickle_reveries [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="ellipsis"][/div] [/div] [div class="post"][/div] [div class="postoptions"] [div class="f"] [div class="b"] [div class="redheart"][/div] [div class="whiteheart"][/div] [div class="commentsign"][/div] [div class="dmsign"][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="g"] [div class="blackbookmark"][/div] [div class="whitebookmark"][/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="likes"] [div class="h"] [div class="likesafter"] Liked by emma_t and 1,313 others [/div] [div class="likesbefore"] Liked by emma_t and 1,312 others [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="caption"] [div class="username"] fickle_reveries [/div] " As a certain hated someone once
said... [div class="more"]more[/div] [/div] [div class="comments"] [div class="viewcomments"]View all 6 comments[/div] [div class="ago"] 1 JANUARY 2066 [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container3"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background3"] [div class="details"] [div class="j"] [div class="notherpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"] fickle_reveries [/div] " As a certain hated someone once said "
Lekiel [div class="credit"] #Reverie_Lowiezka [/div]
[div class="credit" style="cursor: default;"] #happyFkingBday2u [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mdpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mood[/div] No Easy Way Out [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="mntnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]mentions[/div] Kayden, Rhys, Raguel, Ashmedai, Nik, Penny and everyone else in passing [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="ntrctnspfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]interactions[/div] Anise BasiliskVeranda BELIAL. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="lctnpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]location[/div] This is still fucking cold [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="tftpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]outfit[/div] Low loose ponytail, black dress, brown scarf, tights, black heeled ankle boots. [/div] [/div] [div class="l"] [div class="pstpfp"][/div] [div class="i"] [div class="username"]post[/div] The pounding beat was like a base drum in her ears. A rhythm so loud it drowned all else, but she felt it deep in her bones. Somewhere at the top of the frigid ice cold staircase, resided Fear so profound it terrified her with every step she took; like a deer caught in headlights. Only this time it was the deer who was moving and was unable to stop. She would be smashed across the cold glass, her bowels scattered over a mile, splayed for all to see. The bits of wretched memories and tar-black deeds rank as a putrid gutter that was her throne. But this was all she could do for this fickle place called home which she had finally found in the pulsing red fluids and stretched cardiac muscles of the people she had come to live with, longer than any before.

Her shivering breaths scalded her nostrils, burnt raw from the freezing cold. Each step tore her tendons, pumped boiling oil through her veins. Somewhere along the way, she must've passed Ryan in their frantic attempt to get to the throne room.

They needed her.

Or at least that was what drove the witch forward. Step after step. She daren't look back for fear she'd slip. And it was not her steps that furrowed her brow, but the very essence of palpable evil that pushed back at her strained will. An oppressiveness that was more than what could be seen. It was as if she fought with the weight of this blighted tower. Lost souls reaching out from the walls to draw her back. To cast her down into the abyss from which she had risen.

It took an eternity too long but finally, the final portal stood within reach. Hanging on rusted frozen hinges. A cry escaping her lips as she threw herself against the battered doorway, bashing it open with a crash, unaware that the ceiling was already practically falling all around her. She stumbled off balance across the threshold. Glimpsed a scene that both twisted her stomach in fear and knotted her brow in confusion. People she knew, strung out across the floor. People she did not know. Reverie's legs gave out from under, and her vision was filled with a giant twisted crack as the icy floors shattered beneath her feet. There was no time to scream as she fell face forwards...

And then she crashed into cottony snow.

She stared wide-eyed at the vision of white for a second or more. Not quite comprehending, even as she drew back on her haunches feeling the cold under her thighs eyes squinting in the sudden brightness of an open sky. Wispy flakes floated about her, peppering her dishevelled tawny tresses with white. Her chest heaved, drawing painful breaths back into her tortured lungs.

Where was she? What just happened?! Why are they all here?!

A dry cough shook her frame as she forced herself to take in deeper and slower breaths. Light brown eyes searched about, noting with great relief and undue confusion for the fact that everyone was now around her. Out here somewhere in this winter harrowland. A crumbling tremor in the distance drew her attention and she caught sight of the Lich's bastion as it collapsed into ruin.

What-?

Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention and she finally realised that their group was larger by a couple. A man with streaks of grey in his hair, whose presence seemed like a glaring light. And a woman with a mane of fire. She immediately felt something in her recoil from both of them. One whose warmth glowed so brightly she feared it would expose the crumbling valleys of her soul bare; a light that flattened out all contrast. And another whose blood of vile venom and voice of sweet poison caused her heart to twist in sinful delight. Witches were not known to be greatly sensitive to the golden blessings of light and blackened corruption of shadow. Not without a spell or two. But it was impossible to be aware of the presence of these two and not feel that they were so much more than some minion of hell or harlequin of heaven.

Her breaths had stilled by now. But as Reverie pushed herself to her still shaky feet, she could not help but be drawn into the conversation going on between her companions and the two strangers.

Many things became apparent very early on.

The woman who both intrigued and disgusted her was from one of the larger penthouses in Hotel California. Rhys, on the other hand, had a friend who could sing solo in Cloud Kingdom choir. She felt another pang of betrayal, knowing that the erstwhile detective had once again kept things from them.

What were you expecting? There is no one to blame but yourself for this. You chose to stay.

Reverie swallowed bile before her misplaced trust could rear its ugly head in spiteful protestations. The feeling of powerlessness. Of not being in control. Of allowing someone else tell you where your feet would step tomorrow. It was for this exact reason why she had never stayed in one place for long. Why she had chosen a solitary existence, even if it meant that it could only be called that. An existence.

That was until she had met them. Like a moth to flame, Reverie allowed herself to be tempted by that sweet fix called Life and felt herself wanting more. She sunk too low by now and burnt her wings, she doubted she could just leave without tearing half of herself away. Her hands trembled unwittingly, and she stilled them in the pockets of her dresscoat.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

She was fine with that. Somehow.

But someone else wasn't fine. Someone whose aggrieved tones she'd least expect to hear tore through the cold silence like a stray lightning bolt.

''No, wait! Explain it to us!'

Kayden. Reverie's hazel gaze sought out his youthful face, now contorted with unbridled frustration and resentment as he continued his barrage.

''You did this! It's all your fault!''

Reverie's gaze hardened as she willed herself not to look. She knew how he felt. She'd felt the same thing. But Kayden wasn't her, he'd earned his place. Whereas she only ever stood just past the perimeter, barely willing to step any closer yet resenting the fact that she could not hear what they whispered. What happened to her was only her fault. What happened to him, wasn't...

Then in a rare moment that surprised even herself, she stepped towards the young hunter, wanting to offer him something. She didn't know what didn't know how. Perhaps to tell him that he wasn't the only one with feelings of bitterness. Of being left out in the cold like an unwanted child. But when she stretched out her hand to clutch him, she saw the tremors that shook her alabaster fingers and hesitated. In her doubt, Kayden had taken off. Venting his frustrations on the unwitting whitelighter. She retracted her hand back into her pocket and balled it into a knuckle-white fist.

What followed in the ensuing fallout only set her teeth on edge. Her jawbone ached as she ground her teeth listening to Nik and then later Penny work out some semblance of an explanation from the two.

To Raguel's credit, his tone was rather objective. She'd half expected this celestial goldenblood to sound haughty. Not that she'd met many of his kind before if any, but if they were truly righteous without fault in any way, the whole world shouldn't have fallen into this shitshow. Reverie had never been one to shake a fist in denial towards the clouds. She might consider herself to be rather pragmatic in this regard. The only reason they were all in this mess was that the Board of Directors up above were more interested in the smell of each other's asses than any genuine concern about those below. No she wasn't blaming them. Just making a conclusion based on the evidence that she could see.

Haughty perfection.

Raguel proved different, but nevertheless something about his whole demeanour was met with much unease. He had a certain warmth to him, but even so, a plush pillow could be used to smother the life out of someone. Ashmedai... her ladyship entranced the white witch, so much so that she felt herself almost unable to tear her gaze away from the demoness. In her eyes were the deepest pits of damnation coated in sugar syrup. A twisted entity, one whose motives, despite whatever damn explanation they gave, still remained unclear. But she was the devil you knew.

Raguel and Ashmedai. A terrifying pairing. Who were they to think they could oppose them. To make demands of them? Humans were nothing more than ashes strung together by invisible threads. An unbearable pressure weighed in on Reverie's mind. They were powerless... yet...

"People are only truly without power, when they do not believe they have any."

She despised him with all her gut. The very thought of him pealed her skin and grated her teeth on rusted metal. Each moment the memory of him lingered in her mind spun her vision into a white-hot dizzying rage. But, she'd remembered his callous words for all the truth they bore. Yes... if they were mere stardust in the face of the eternal, why seek them out? And if it was not her, or any of the others, why... Rhys?

"We don't have to solve a problem we didn't create... But we will anyway." Reverie finally spoke, in response to Nik and Penny. Her voice was hoarse and cracked after the prolonged silence. "We will because we have to." The witch's eyes narrowed as she gazed at angel and demon alike.

"But yes, I'd like to know what makes our guts so special too. And if not ours, then at least... his." She nudged her head in the direction of Rhys.

The witch's eyes briefly flickered with intensity as she waited for a reply. She wouldn't be surprised if they were disregarded as nothing more than pawns in their little game. But she'll be damned if she let anyone treat her that way.

Even pawns could become queens when you weren't looking their way. [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="container4"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background4"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar"] [div class="home"][/div] [div class="search"][/div] [div class="add"][/div] [div class="m"][/div] [div class="circlea"][div class="circleb"][div class="circlec"][/div][/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [div class="none"] [div class="container5"] [div class="hidden1"] [div class="hidden2"] [div class="hidden3"] [div class="background5"] [div class="border"][/div] [div class="bottombar_2"] [div class="bigpfp"][/div] [div class="i"][div class="ddcmmnt"]Add a comment...[/div][/div] [/div] [div class="line"][/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div] [/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

xxxx

Location: Ruins of Monolith > Jefferson County, TN

Interactions: Too bad there's not an @ everyone

Music to set the Mood

OOC: Slapped this together, sorry for the wait.

RHYS

''No, wait! Explain it to us!'' Kayden's voice caused the burnett's attention to shift. Molten azure orbs watched as his cheeks flushed in rageful patches and for a moment Rhys could not see the innocence behind the boy's face. ''Explain us!! Tell us why all this shit is happening!!''

Rhys opened his mouth to say something, maybe to help calm the hunter, but it was too late. Kayden's rage had already been redirected like a vengeful gale in an unstoppable storm. There was an edge, an almost hateful heat, in his gaze that caused every muscle in Rhys' body to tense.

''You did this! It's all your fault!''

Kayden was running at him before he could utter anything in his defense. One moment he was standing there and the next he was being thrown back into the angel. It was like being thrown straight into a brick wall and he fell to the snow with a gasping breath. He had no choice but to fight to re-inflate his lungs, laying flat on his back, staring at the bluing sky as his lungs refused to do their damn job. Rhys wheezed, hating the feeling of snow soaking into his clothes.

''Seeing you two together you actually don't look that different,'' Absently, he was aware that the words were meant to be mocking. Leave it to Kayden to shove the knife in deeper, ''I thought I could trust you!'' And twist it.

His throat closed and for a moment, he could feel the burn of tears behind his eyes. He wondered if anyone noticed how pretty the sky was today, how the blue was bright and soft all at once. He wondered if they saw the serenity of the clouds that sailed by, gently passing on toward anyplace the wind wishes them to reach. He wondered if they let their eyes rest upon their white tops and follow the infinite greys that blend so harmoniously with one another, almost bluish. He wondered if they, as he did, imagined them to be Beluga whales swimming through a clean ocean, a happy family, singing, playing, without a single care to the issues of the world below. The corner of his mouth cracked, a hollow broken laugh forced itself from his chest.

It was a ridiculous thought.

"Kayden," Nik's voice broke the beat of silence clearly attempting to rein the hunter in. It wasn't necessary. Rhys could no longer feel the barbs and prongs of bitterness; he could no longer feel anything.

"You use us, you puppet us--" Rhys closed his eyes, finally able to take a deep breath, "and then you demand the world of us--" When he opened them again he continued to stare up at the sky, not really listening as Penny continued her tirade. It had been unfair of him to continue to exist in their lives, yet he didn't want to leave. He had never felt more empty in mind, body or soul, never so bereft of any comfort, never so worthless or disposable, never so wretched and cold. There was no emotion. In a distant part of his mind he wanted to feel the grief that bled from his bones, to be shaking on the floor in anguish. In every single moment of every single day that had past since that bitch ripped his throat out, his soul had asked God why he must still live. He had never gotten a response. He had never known why he was still alive until now. Kyanite irises traveled toward whom he had begun to consider the love of his life, the man's face was painted in a myriad of smeared furies and fears. Niklas had never been very good at hiding his emotions which made the quasi-devil completely readable, but Rhys admired that about him. He had never been very good with expressing his own feelings. It made him a good detective, but a difficult person to have a romantic relationship with.

He showed him how to find beauty in a cruel world.

He had tried so hard to do well, fought for every step; even if it wasn't always in the right direction. He had wanted so bad to fly, to soar among the rest of them. And he had been afraid. So afraid that he would crash. And that he would have to watch it happen. With no way for him to help if he did.

Rhys pulled his gaze away.
He didn't know if it was better to live with knowing he could never be--

"Why? What's so special about humans? We're messy and unfortunate and we care too much about the things we love--" Azure orbs drifted from one member of the group to the next. They were all giants from his position on the ground, untouchable and beyond his reach. Yet each of them seemed to be more human in that moment, experiencing a myriad of emotions that he knew he couldn't fully comprehend.
"Humans have a choice, they are not perfect, but that is precisely why they are special. It is...a quality I have grown to admire." Raguel shifted on his feet, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants-- a disturbingly familiar movement.

"Is that what's so priceless? That we aren't... empty-headed lab rats?"
"In a sense."
Rhys pressed his lips together, finally pushing himself into a sitting position. His clothes were drenched, snow clung to his hair, and he trembled slightly from the cold as it seeped into the very marrow of his bones. It occurred to him that if he didn't remove himself from the ground he might end up getting sick. Yet he didn't seem to have the energy nor care to get up.

"Why are you here? Both of you."
"Is...that a serious question?"
"Ashmedai--" Her name hung in the air like a warning, firm enough to cause her to cross her arms over her chest.
Expression sour, the demon scowled, "Don't give me that look, feathers, I am simply baffled by the sheer lack of whit--"
Raguel turned toward the rest of the group, "We are here to close the gates to hell and in turn, save your world from utter destruction."

There was a lull of silence as everyone seemed to drink in what had just been explained to them. Rhys rubbed his hands together, realizing that his fingers had begun to go numb from exposure to the cold. There was no way he wasn't getting sick from this, he could already picture himself with a cold. Mildly annoyed with the notion of being congested in the near future, he turned to get up and caught sight of something reaching out towards him.

"We don't have to solve a problem we didn't create... But we will anyway." Reverie spoke up and his gaze snapped towards her. The Witch had been rather quiet, but when she spoke it was as if the whole world stopped to listen. There was an enormous weight of silence that blanketed the group for a moment, "We will because we have to."

Raguel seemed to assess her, his head tilting a bit to one side.
"But yes, I'd like to know what makes our guts so special too. And if not ours, then at least... his."

Rhys tensed as she nodded toward him, almost frightened with the realization that he was at the center of this.
"He made a deal." Those four words stopped his heart. Confusion morphed over his features, unable to recall what it was the angel was referring to. He hadn't remembered making any deals--
All trains of thought stopped. He felt a puff of hot air on the shell of his ear.

"What? You mean, you didn't tell them?" Ashmedai purred, her lips brushing against his earlobe, "I'm sure you won't mind if I tell them then," the look she gave him was so completely sinister that it shook him to his core. He had never seen something...that evil before. His skin crawled, the stench of sulfur began to burn his nostrils from the inside out.

"I--Don't--" He grunted, accepting the hand that Raguel held out toward him in order to get to his feet.
Ashmedai was already speaking by the time he moved to interfere, "See, Angels --such as our feathered friend here-- have issues with human guises. They can not take a form that you would call...pleasant. So to compensate they are given a single vessel. Some Angel's never find them, some don't care to look--"

"It was never my intention to look. It is not just to rob a human of it's life---though I suppose the meaning of justice in of itself is subjective." Rhys shot Raguel a mild glare.
"Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, boohoo, sob story, whatever no one cares about your justice boner. The point I am trying to make is that when Rhys died, he promised something. That promise was made at a high stakes table and the wager happened to be your souls." The demoness paced the circumference of the group, her hands clasped behind her back.

"If you don't close the gates, your lives are forfeit and your souls--- erased." She made it sound as if she were reciting some boring fact that everyone knew by heart.

"Good thing that won't happen because," She turned, looping an arm around Rhys' waist. She made an obvious point of pressing herself into him, only because everyone could see that it made him very uncomfortable. "Rhysie, here, will make sure to do well on his promise, won't he?" There was a threat knit into her words that wasn't so subtle.
"I can hear them now: Oh Ashmedai, what oh what was Rhys' promise?" The smile that split across her rubied lips was absolutely shark-like.

"Emrys is my vessel." Raguel interrupted. The angel took a step forward, casting a look at the demon that could almost be considered a glare. Ash frowned slightly before releasing Rhys, moving away from him as if he were a toy she got bored of playing with.
"Not by fucking choice." His cold fury burnt with dangerous intensity. There was one thing he could still feel with frightening, crystal clear, intensity: fury. "I didn't ask you to bless me. I didn't ask you to--"

"You do not get a choice. If you recall, your choices were made the moment you asked me to bring you back to life." The Archangel stood with hard staring eyes that never blinked, "Blessings and Afflictions come in various forms, but the end results are always the same. I ensured long ago that we would be tied to the same thread, that day in the courtroom Emrys Richard Contiello was no longer human. You, I, am the end result. We are the same, it's only a matter of time."

Rhys ran his hand through his close cropped hair three times in quick succession and fixed the angel in a glare that could have frozen the Pacific. He snarled more than spoke, "I refuse to believe that. I refuse to lose everything I care for."

The corner of Raguel's mouth moved into a sympathetic smile, gaze moving from Rhys to Nik and back. "You already have."

"No, I--"
"In the beginning, there was music, sound in time. The heartbeat hummed, a steady faithful beat, eternal harmony. Life flows from that heartbeat and life goes- forming the rhythm of every human soul. Where apathy threatens rhythm, the heartbeat resounds with life. Vitality amplified, Death flatlined, without notes." Raguel paused, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out a tiny blue stone. He held it in the palm of his hand, extending the limb towards the other, "Can you hear the song, Rhys?"

"I told you that I would not give up, we do not give up. Nasty personality trait isn't it?" There was a quirk to the angel's lips that functioned in the same water color blues. "I have cured many injustices, though I have never been able to cure my own."

Rhys swallowed against the lump in his throat, reaching a shaking hand towards the gleaming gemstone. His fingers curled around the object, clutching it tightly in his fist.


Ashmedai glanced up from her nails long enough to give the group, and Rhys, another fake smile, "You have a month to live pretty boy, and that means a month to close those gates forever. Cut the blessings, cut the afflictions, at the source and you all might stand a chance."

"How the fuck are we supposed to do that?"

"Raguel will stop being a human piece of shit and allow the divinity into his soul." She gave Rhys a pointed look, "Then, use your archangel mojo on the gateway. It's a rather simple procedure provided there are no winged rats in the area."

"You say simple, but I ain't sure that's the truth."
"You of all people should know that you can't take a demon at their word, cher." Ashmedai arched a brow mockingly before waving a hand in dismissal, "Though you are completely right. It won't be simple. I'm more than positive Selaphiel will try to stop you."

"My brother will not be a problem so long as Baal does not interfere."
"Well your brother is the one who started this to begin with--"
"Only because our hands were tied--"

That was the breaking point of his patience, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP."
In that moment, he was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. He wasn’t thinking when he let out his boiling antipathy and swung his tight fist, too quick and potent, into Raguel's defined jaw; the impact like thousands of venomous blades piercing apart his clammed fist. Raguel fell to the ground, eyes like saucers and jaw slack. There was no hesitation as Rhys descended on top of him, continuing to slam fist after fist into his face. He raised his hand again to strike but held it like a frozen threat. He was so angry he was shaking. The angel lifted a hand to smear blood away from his mouth.

Rhys leaned back, chest heaving as he fought to calm himself down.
"That was justified."
"Shut up." Rhys drew himself away, barely glancing at his own bloodied knuckles. His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. "I want step by step instructions and I want detailed directions. I do not have time to listen to both of you fucking bicker."

Ashmedai cleared her throat, seemingly nervous, "Head toward California, we'll let you know when we locate it."

His head jerked towards her, "What do you mean 'when you locate it'?" Rhys clenched his jaw, moving towards the demon with clear hostile intent. Ashmedai smiled weakly, moving backward as he advanced. Was she scared?

"Rhys," there was a hand on his arm, soft but firm and insistent. "They're not our enemy, cher. It ain't doin' no one any good if you start beatin' 'em up for the hell of it."
He frowned at the Necromancer, maintaining eye contact until he finally relented. When he turned his focus back to the demon, she was gone. He made a frustrated noise, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Fine. Let's go, we have a long drive ahead of us."

⊰~~⊱​

░ CHAPTER FIVE ░

Vampire Country​

❝ “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. ”

→ relocation
Ending Location: Cor Jesu Monastery, Jefferson County, TN


▻ OBJECTIVES
Survive.

Sure enough, he was sick. Waves of heat coursed through his blood, a cold sweat glistened across his features. The fever had come three days prior and had snow no signs of getting any better. It had taken three days for it to get bad enough that he couldn't hide it anymore. Nik had practically chained him to the passenger seat after he almost ran the RV off the road. And despite Penny's insistence he still refused to sleep in the bed. Rhys was the reason that they were being sent on a suicide mission. He didn't deserve, nor could afford, the luxury of rest when the fate of the lives of everyone he cared for was on the line. He bent over as sharply as if he'd been punched in the stomach, hacking into a closed fist. By slow, torturous degrees, the coughing eased in intensity and then slowly, slowly, passed. Rhys' head felt as if someone had shaken it until his brain had enough trauma for the entire group. Shooting pains stabbed chaotically through his muscles and there was a rather annoying ringing in his ears.

His head fell back against the head rest, reduced to breathing through his mouth. Karma was misery in its finest form.

"Can you turn the radio down a bit, please? I've got this ringing in my ears..." He sounded like Rudolph with the cap on his nose. Groaning, he pressed his head against the passenger window. The glass felt cool against his burning skin and he closed his eyes at the contact.

"HARRY!" Allea's scream jerked him awake, blinking as he tried to reorient himself. The sound of footsteps storming up towards the front of the RV caused him to turn in his seat. Allea rammed into the back of his chair to stop herself. Rhys cursed.

"Allea, what the fuck!?"
"Nik, you've got to stop him!" She was reaching for the blond and Rhys moved to intervene, not wanting her to accidentally run them off the road.
"Allea what--" He stopped, staring at her face. Her eyes were pure white, rolled into the back of her head. She was crying. Shaking.
"You've got to stop him, you're the only one who can get him to listen!" Her nails began to bite into Rhys' arm as he fought to keep her from getting to Nik. His concern grew when she began to babble, the fight slowly leaving her as she slumped in his arms.

And she was out like a light. "I...didn't know she was a prophet." His voice was barely above as whisper, managing to move her over to one of the booths. Harry came storming in followed by Frankie and he gave each of them a nod before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Tugging a blanket out of one of the cabinets, he hobbled off back to his position in the passenger's seat. Curling himself into a weird ball, he wished for death.

It wasn't even an hour later when the first one appeared; A corpse was devoid of skin and pitted by burrowing insects, nailed to a crucifix.
His first impression was that maybe these were warnings left by rival gangs, but then they began to increase in number and frequency.

"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned, squinting at the obstruction in the distance.
The RV wheeled to a stop. The jack knifed tractor trailer barred them from passing, taking up the entire road as one hunk of scorched and twisted metal. His gazed automatically moved towards the row of crucified bodies erected behind it.

"Safe Haven this way, the Lord protects us." He was silent for a moment, curiosity evident in his gaze.

"We should find away around," He coughed a little harder and a lot longer this time, wheezing for air as he finally settled back in his seat.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: url(https://live.staticflickr.com/7120/7699564540_7cc7fe5ec8_b.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #D5D3D3; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #1d1b15; flex: 1; border: 1px solid #023c7e; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; font-size:13px; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speaks] overflow: auto; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 20px; flex: 1; flex-basis: 25%; margin-left: 20px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=blue] background: #D5D3D3; padding: 10px; width:auto; -webkit-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); -moz-box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); box-shadow: 2px 3px 8px -2px rgba(0,0,0,0.33); [/class] [class=speakstoo] font-size:13px; text-align: left; font-weight:100; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; background-color: #eff0f2; color: #272828; line-height:2; font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; padding:30px; max-height:600px; overflow-y: auto; overflow-x:hidden; [/class] [class=speakeasy] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2;[/class] [class=bottoms] font-weight:400; margin-top: 50px; clear:both; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=tops] font-weight:400; margin-bottom: 50px; clear:both; background-color: #040404; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #b9c0ca; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; font-size:12px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-align: center; padding:20px; color: #fff; line-height:2; width:100%; [/class] [class=speakeasy2] font-weight:400; font-family: 'Raleway', sans-serif; border: 1px solid #023c7e; outline: 1px solid #eff0f2; box-sizing: border-box; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #272828; background:#eff0f2; line-height:2; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=whut maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speakstoo maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: auto; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 0px;[/class] [class name=bottoms maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [class name=tops maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class] [div class=whut][div class=biggie][div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭; 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦.[/div]


[div class=speakeasy2]Nik Is Overwhelmed
LOCATION — Outside the ruins of Elsa's castle, or whatever > Cor Jesu Monastery, Jefferson County, TN
BGM — Meg Myers - Running Up That Hill
TAGS — I ain't taggin, do whatcha gotta do.
OOC — such a lovely hellmom post but my internals are roasted. ive been afflicted with The Big Sad[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘶𝘱.[/div][/div]
[div class=speaks][div class=blue][div class=speakstoo]
Rhys was staying on the ground for far too long. Maybe he'd forgotten that despite Kayden being a capable young man, he wasn't capable of crushing the ex-detective into the earth. Maybe he was surprised Kayden had hefted him. Maybe he'd shortly say something like 'Didn't know you had it in you', and end on a dry chuckle. Of course, Kayden was possibly not in the mood for that joke.

Nik's deep blue eyes trailed between the two of them. It would've added a bit of levity; he waited for that joke. It never came. Maybe he didn't want to stand. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he had forgotten that the ground was cold and damp and laying there like a log was a recipe for being turned into a human popsicle.

The blond turned up his chin in one swift movement, as if commanding his partner to stand, by force of will. It was simply a statement of; we stand. We, we stand. There was an expectation of, stand here. Stand here, at the side of the blond, who would offer the man now being threatened by cold, a cigarette; stand.

And yet he didn't do what Nik expected.

"Rhys—"

"Nik," Penny said, searching for his gaze, which must have been made of confusion, battery acid and blue ink, "I don't think... I don't think that they want us solving a problem we didn't create... but they need us. It's how we've put the whole thing together. A mechanic repairs a car because he knows how, and because he's good at it. The clerk in the front, a brainless intern, doesn't because he has his own talents... his task. They need us to do this... why do you think there's been so much trouble to keep Rhys alive... to keep us alive?"

This still sounded like feathered-fucks and fire-skinned dickheads were shirking their responsibilities onto the shoulders of others, he felt. Niklas said as much with a severely angled brow, and a petulant upticked smile. Nik didn't argue with Penny. Instead, he stood like a confused/angry statue, who only moved when he needed to press his cigarette to his lips. If he did anything more, he was sure his skin would erupt in flames, and he'd become war made flesh. Then, he'd do something stupid, like try to destroy anything he could get his hands on.

Anything being Tweedledee and Tweedledum, who were dragging this out like it was a seven part play. That'd have been very stupid.

He still wasn't standing. What, was he playing dead? Niklas' impossible confusion melted behind a screen of smoke. Niklas' impossible heart beat with impossible war for this impossibly drawn-out explanation from impossible otherworldly beings.

It wasn't so simple as 'they need us to do this'. These were powerful things; more powerful than they were. Powerful enough that this dance wasn't necessary, and neither was the involvement of his friends, or the now very damp ex-detective. So why? Niklas' heart knew the answer was that something, something was wrong. Wrong and beyond the linen of what he was staring at in confusion.

Everything about this felt wrong. Like when one looks at an oil painting that's just a little bit off. The colors seem temporary, but they're the right pigments. The oils below have bubbled to the top layer, because fat over lean was apparently quite optional with the piece he was looking at.

"You use us, you puppet us and then you demand the world of us...Why? What's so special about humans? We're messy and unfortunate and we care too much about the things we love--" The corner of Nik's eyelid twitched as he listened to her speak; it wasn't her words that caused the involuntary reaction. It was the impatience to see the artifice beyond, and an agreement with her words. Why? That was a simple, and very large, question.

"Humans have a choice, they are not perfect, but that is precisely why they are special. It is...a quality I have grown to admire." Smoke cascaded from between his teeth like the acid of a viper. Nothing about any of Nik's slight, calculated movements spelled anything but annihilation; confusion had been eaten. It was choreographed death; an allegory of movements. The blade wanted to cut the canvas from the frame. The blade was once a very human man, and now something a bit less. The blade was trying to be patient. The blade found this impossible. And so, the poisoned blade smoked.

"Is that what's so priceless? That we aren't... empty-headed lab rats?" He listened to Penny, his expression every now and then dipping into something mutely pleasant, because he expected she'd wipe the panel clean. She'd make this right. She was always the clever, patient one. She'd make whatever was twisting in his guts stop twisting.

However, the expression often turned acidic; Nik's heart was pumping solvent in his veins. The group was still scraping off the layers, and it wasn't fast enough for the part-time devil.

"In a sense."
"Please get to the point," said the blond, in a voice far too calm. When one's eyes spell danger, and one's tone spells pleasantries, then truly, the eyes win out. The eyes win out, because the mouth is working overtime to keep what's behind the eyes from winning. If Nik could force his mouth into something less cruel and caustic, then maybe the fluid in his veins would stop screaming.

"Why are you here? Both of you."
"Is...that a serious question?"
"Ashmedai--"

This was bickering. This was pointless obfuscation. This was a basilisk smearing itself in words and cranking around a canvas that the survivors stood inside of. Each constriction broke a part of the wooden frame, and the part that was breaking now was held together with a straight pin dipped in warfare-grade botulism. That pin was Niklas Voss. Or perhaps he was the basilisk, trying to break apart the pretenses. He couldn't be sure.

Nik rolled his tongue over the inside of his mouth, over his teeth, tipped his head back, supped on his cigarette, and coiled.

Then, a deep blue gaze went to the whitelighter, who found himself enough to sit in the cold. The blond gave the brunet a glimmered look, blue eyes shifting to the spot beside him. Here, they said. We stand, they said. Are you alright?, they said. They also might have said: let's go. Let's just leave this all behind. But the mouth, the mouth didn't speak. Because if the mouth the blond possessed even attempted to fashion words they'd be bullets from the gun that lived in his throat.

And certainly, the whitelighter wouldn't be the one getting shot.

"Don't give me that look, feathers, I am simply baffled by the sheer lack of whit--" Clearly Tweedledum didn't get Penny's question-beyond-the-question. The attempt to start scraping the years of dingy gunk off of the top frame of where they stood. Or, she didn't quite care about doing anything else but be catty. Niklas was reminded of Percival, and might have smiled at this, given any other circumstance.

"We are here to close the gates to hell and in turn, save your world from utter destruction." And yet; Nik didn't speak, but tilted his head to intimate the two small, damning words. The cigarette came up, as the eyebrow jutted to an incredulous angle. And yet, there's still no explanation. And yet, and yet—the blond's teeth might as well have been serrated at this point, and so his trap stayed shut. Gouging the film free wouldn't make the painting restore itself. It was a painstaking process.

Rhys was rubbing his hands together. Niklas pulled back the metaphorical fangs that anyone with eyes upon his person could see he wanted to pivot into Tweedledum or Tweedledee.

"Do you want some—" Franklin had knit some gloves. She had knit many. The blond jut his gaze off to find her spark of red hair and saw that she was turned away. She was listening, he could tell, even if all he saw was smoke from a spliff and the back of her head. Her ears pricked up to hear the conversation and pull it through a 'Franklin Filter'. They'd all get her interpretation later, he imagined, but for now, she was stewing in it. She was fiddling with her gun, and stewing.

Her venom wasn't a brand he had, but he knew she had it, by the way her shoulders were tensed beyond reason. See Exhibit A: woodland creature realizes it's in danger, and doesn't know how to get out of it, but wants to. See it twitch its ears to listen to the predators talk.

Niklas let out a sigh, it escaped in wisps of payne's grey.

"Frankenstein—" She bristled, and so he didn't continue.

"We don't have to solve a problem we didn't create... But we will anyway." Reverie chimed in, no doubt as malignant about all this as he was, if not moreso.
"We will because we have to." She hated being painted into positions where she didn't have control, or have choice. They were the same in this regard, because it was a compulsion; it terrified to the point of malice. She wanted to spit venom as much as he did, or perhaps flee even moreso. But she was stuck here, with the group, with whatever this menagerie of color-words was concocting itself into.

"But yes, I'd like to know what makes our guts so special too. And if not ours, then at least... his." There it was. He hadn't wanted to ask this question. It would have felt like an accusation to the whitelighter, he thought, from a mouth that was meant only to worship. Perhaps bitch a little bit now and then, or throw some catty phrases, or make a mountain out of a mole hill, but no. There were no razors for that one, and when there were, he hated himself for them. This was not his question to ask, it wasn't.

Because he didn't want to know the answer, not really. That was an exactitude he was fine to ignore for time immemorial.

The blond inhaled through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. He dashed ash to the cold ground. His red coat was the color of what he felt. His conflicted glance was now jutting from whitelighter, to Tweedledum, to Tweedledee.

"He made a deal," the creature said this explicit phrase, and Nik felt his heart explicitly implode in on itself.

But still, he smoked, because asking what deal that was meant asking how to undo whatever it was, how to break Raguel's face into splinters, and if that would make it all better, and if he could do that, and if he wanted to, and he did want to, and these were no longer questions, these were instead run-on-idea bleatings. There was one last question that the indigo eyes bore, outside of; explain.

He managed to say it.

"What deal? Please, contin—" again, Niklas' mouth and tone were calm and lovely, but his eyes were apocalyptic.

"What? You mean, you didn't tell them?" the other creature played out, "I'm sure you won't mind if I tell them then," the look she had on her face was something Nik knew he could mimic but never fully embody. His painting of damnation was still a work in progress. Her's had long since been perfected.

"I--Don't--" For whatever reason, the creature thought Rhys knew what deal had been made. Rhys apparently didn't, because he seemed confused. He was confused enough to take the hand of the other creature, when he was a man capable enough to stand on his own two feet, and make his way over to the blond, who was vibrating with emotions that were strong enough to peel paint. Paint-peeler, or this thing?

When Niklas got to the point where he started seeing sentient entities as objects worthy of disregard, he considered them worthy of being immolated. He'd feel absolutely no guilt if he witnessed it. He'd revel in doing it. Regardless if they were meant to help the group or not, they had kept them on the hook for this long, they'd let this painting sit to rot, and were now playing around exactitudes, still. Still playing at them. Still playing, like children who can't answer a straight fucking question.

Or, like adults who didn't want to tell children an impossible answer...

That idea was the first crack in Nik's carefully guarded armor, an armor made of rage. The hell-kissed creature's explanation laid the second barrage of cracks.

"See, Angels --such as our feathered friend here-- have issues with human guises. They can not take a form that you would call...pleasant. So to compensate they are given a single vessel. Some Angel's never find them, some don't care to look--" A single vessel.

The heaven-kissed creature's explanation crafted several more.

"It was never my intention to look. It is not just to rob a human of it's life---though I suppose the meaning of justice in of itself is subjective."

Niklas' painting was coated in payne's gray, but the oil had started to slick off in chunks if one looked very hard enough at his face. His quietness was not the quiet of anger. It was the quiet of facing an explosion unforeseen, and knowing you're about to die.

Niklas wasn't a stupid man. Rhys, and how he played into all this as the king of this little game, concocted by fuckheads because they wanted to bleach the earth: that was the line of this conversation. That was the crack it was drawing across the panel. That was the paint slipping off, finally. But it was the wrong reveal. It was wrong.

"Uh-huh, yeah, yeah, boohoo, sob story, whatever no one cares about your justice boner. The point I am trying to make is that when Rhys died, he promised something. That promise was made at a high stakes table and the wager happened to be your souls."

The hell-kissed creature's further explanation carved a slab of paint off of his heart and left it in the dirt. When did Rhys make this promise? Had he agreed to—

"If you don't close the gates, your lives are forfeit and your souls--- erased." And here, the hell-bitch was acting like this statement was a drole fact. Niklas' rage tried to fill in the cracks, but this painting restoration reveal was not over, and so the lines yet still lay bare.

"Good thing that won't happen because," the creature wove an arm around his partner's waist, and Nik would have pulled up all the panels of his existence if just to stab his blade into her head and carve her eyes out. If he did that, they wouldn't get exactitudes. If he did that, she'd probably kill him. That was a stupid idea. Nik wasn't a stupid man; but his emotions often made him stupider than he was.

"Rhysie, here, will make sure to do well on his promise, won't he?" Niklas' mind was hopping between ten-thousand diagrams of war, and if it was possible to tear a line of red through her body for even using that pet-name. He used that pet-name. Her mouth wasn't allowed to taste it.

But the cracks came back. The cracks demanded attention. The cracks ached his bones. The paint was sliding off of his skin.

"I can hear them now: Oh Ashmedai, what oh what was Rhys' promise?"
"Emrys is my vessel," the creature who had stolen Niklas' clever retort to the hell-kissed one said. It had stolen them from his very lips. The lips that were now parted, because the words had been ripped out from between them. The blond knelt to pick up his cigarette, which he seemed to have dropped in the process of being emotionally stabbed. The blond smoked. The blond was inert.

The blond, was mentally nowhere to be found.

Franklin was finished fiddling with her gun. Niklas found a hand in his own, a small one. He didn't look at the red-haired woodland girl. She didn't look at him. Yet, like Olive would have, she squeezed his hand, and bore witness to his entire world falling apart. He knew that Rhys had been...changing. He remembered their car ride before they arrived at the hardware emporium.

Something he had said, and what was it? What had he said?

This was not the painting he wanted to see. This was not the painting any of them wanted to see; not the painting they deserved to see. It was a Francisco Goya's Saturn Devouring His Son. That was the painting; the most horrific one to probably ever be crafted. He couldn't feel it; he wasn't able to. He couldn't look at it anymore; and yet he was forced to.

It threatened enough to cleave him back into nothing.

"Not by fucking choice." Franklin squeezed his hand when Rhys spoke, her crystal-blue eyes cast to the ground. She was chewing jerky. The noise was offensive, but grounding.

"I didn't ask you to bless me. I didn't ask you to--"

"You do not get a choice. If you recall, your choices were made the moment you asked me to bring you back to life." Stop.

"Blessings and Afflictions come in various forms, but the end results are always the same. I ensured long ago that we would be tied to the same thread, that day in the courtroom Emrys Richard Contiello was no longer human. You, I, am the end result. We are the same, it's only a matter of time."

Stop, please, God, stop.

"I refuse to believe that. I refuse to lose everything I care for."

"You already have." When Raguel looked between the whitelighter and the part-time devil, the part-time devil might as well have dissolved into colorful pigments.

Niklas was afraid of nearly nothing. No amount of bodily harm would get more than a serrated smile and self-indulgent, maniacal laughter. Battle was fun, because it meant things could die, and his favorite color of paint was the red of blood. He wasn't afraid to injure himself, because if he was wounded, he'd drag down whatever caused it and give it ten times the beating he received. None of this made him afraid.

Not the war, or the demons, or the creatures, or the world's impending doom. The two creatures standing here also didn't implicitly instill fear. At this point, not even the devil of his mind, the thoughts and impulses the affliction bore, scared him. Like being an addict who had gone through sobriety many times, this was old-hat, and he knew he would overcome each lapse. He was also, now, unafraid of being a monster.

But what actually terrified him, to the point where he found his mind siphoning outside of his body, was losing another person he was in love with. That mere idea fondled the trigger of his mental gun. The trigger found purchase, and Rhys' prior death was replaying in his mind's eye like a projectionist on a bender. Then, Diana's death. Then, Rhys' death. Then, Diana's death. Over, and over, and over, and over again.

This, this is what made Niklas Voss, impossibly terrified. And so, he was mute to it.

Franklin's hand kept his body in place, and Rhys' voice kept his mind from recoiling entirely. All he could do was take one small inhale, hold it in the lungs that were caving in on themselves, twist his brows up in mute terror, and feel like he'd been gutted like a fish.

That was all he could do, in the face of watching an unforeseen explosion that would destroy him.

"No, I--"

"In the beginning, there was music, sound in time. The heartbeat hummed, a steady faithful beat, eternal harmony. Life flows from that heartbeat and life goes- forming the rhythm of every human soul. Where apathy threatens rhythm, the heartbeat resounds with life. Vitality amplified, Death flatlined, without notes."

Niklas was no longer listening in full, because he couldn't. The cigarette stuck between his lips had shriveled to ash, and he hadn't noticed.

"I told you that I would not give up, we do not give up. Nasty personality trait isn't it?" That statement sounded strong, like Rhys. He agreed, but he couldn't force himself to speak. It was air. It was nothing. Words were nothing, they were not paint. They were not colors or textures. Vowels and syllables would never be enough to express his thoughts. Let alone the feelings that were strong enough that he needed to float his mind away for a time. Away, and into the air, because to feel them would be violation.

"You have a month to live pretty boy, and that means a month to close those gates forever. Cut the blessings, cut the afflictions, at the source and you all might stand a chance."
"I'm sorry, a fucking what to live—" the blond snarled, but was cut off. Franklin smacked her gums. Niklas' sentience finally took shape and he glared down at her. She held his gaze, didn't stop chewing, and didn't let go of his hand. Franklin was a little genius. Franklin knew what she was doing.

"You of all people should know that you can't take a demon at their word, cher." Allea was speaking. Niklas wasn't hearing everything. He was hearing Franklin chewing, and the sound of his own self-destructing heart. The painting had been peeled back to its true form.

Exactitudes; he had wanted them—the creatures were still speaking. His mind reeled; stop. Please, God, just stop. He looked on at the painting, mute in the face of its exactness. God, make it stop. Just stop talking. The emotions fondled the trigger again, and he grit his teeth in response.

Stop; he had started to say. But Rhys had pulled the words away, had shouted other words, and then let his fists do the talking.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP." It was a wonder to behold; the man he loved pummeling this creature who had just undone all of them, told them of their tied fates, of what they were forced to do, of what Rhys was to be fashioned into while having no say in it, who had torn the metaphorical heart out of Niklas' chest and let it coat the cold ground red.

"Should've kept fucking punching him," the blond managed in less than a whisper. He was shattered. Ash fell on his coat, and Franklin made more sounds that distracted.
"Yer gonna' burn yer' lips off, doncha knows it..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah Frankenstein. Give me a fucking blunt." She did, and it replaced the cigarette butt that had, indeed, threatened to burn his lips off. He couldn't deal with this right now. Frankie-grade weed was his only solution, because if Niklas now did what he wanted to do, which was resume the war in his veins, and launch himself at both offending objects, that would've ended poorly.

If they'd gone by his impulsive inner intimations, everyone would just be raining mayhem and murder down on those that had just waved a paltry contest in the air like the greatest high-stakes game of all time. Ah, but it came with prizes; as if getting to keep their souls was a wonderful prize, and saving the world was a wonderful prize, except colored lovingly by the fact that Rhys would someday be Raguel, and this was apparently unstoppable, because angels only got a single vessel, and that vessel was necessary to stop the impending end of days.

That was not a lovely prize. The weed smoke in his lungs was still not coloring it lovely, despite its best efforts. Apparently, Franklin was seeing the wheels spinning behind Niklas' vacant blue gaze, because she made a critter-sound not unlike a grunt, to get his attention. It wasn't working for her.

Nik looked over the faces of his friends. He loved them, didn't he? He did. Did he want them to lose their souls? He didn't. Smoke filtered from his nose like mist over a statue.

They wouldn't make that trade-off, would they? Their souls, and the earth, for one man's life, which wouldn't be very long-lived since the planet would be wiped clean anyways. Rhys had one month to live, after all. He had only one small, paltry, fucking month. He had died, and he was here, and he had a mission, and he only had one, fucking, month.

Franklin tugged his hand. Niklas was bloodless and unresponsive.

Whatever happened afterwards were nothing-things.

Things said that were plans, but the plans...felt like they didn't matter. It didn't matter for Niklas, because Rhys had one month to live. He had just one month. And so, they were things he cataloged mentally, and made some vague, weed-fueled gestures about, but didn't pay attention to.

He might have even said "We got this", but that was the weed talking, and he couldn't be very sure he even said it at all. Because it was nothing. It was all nothing-things, if Rhys wouldn't be Rhys when they triumphed together and saved the world.

Until it was a something-thing, because now they had to leave.

⛧⛧⛧​

Rhys was sick; laying on the ground like a bump on a log had, indeed, turned him into a human popsicle.

As Rhys always wanted to drive, Nik borderline strapping him in the passenger seat so he could rest was resisted. Niklas didn't accept the resistance, and with as much bedside manner he could afford while still being emotionally obliterated, and very much wanting to comfort the man he loved, Niklas drove. He drove the RV, and he drove carefully. He said very little, except to ask if Rhys was alright.

He did very little except drive, eat Franklin's weed-infused jerky, listen to the radio, and check on the man who was now sick. The man he loved. The man who had one month to—Niklas' brain flatlined. Niklas wasn't processing any of this anymore.

He also knew that Rhys wasn't either.

"Can you turn the radio down a bit, please? I've got this ringing in my ears..."
"Sure thing, princess," the blond turned the volume down on a song that should've made him feel better, but didn't. He cast a cautious glance at the man who looked like he would explode with snot and phlegm at any moment.
"If we were in a fucking normal reality, I'd get you some Vicks VapoRub," Niklas felt a glimmer of spry playfulness creep on, and was now about to test if he even knew how to do that anymore, "старые люди think it's magic. отец swore by it. Caked it on my split lip when Henry hit a baseball into my face."

"Burned like a bitch and a half," Nik was rambling. Nik was trying to create word-barriers to forget all of what just happened, to instill normalness. Nik was trying to be cute and clever. Nik was probably making Rhys' ringing ears worse. Nik shut his mouth.

Rhys started to doze off. The blond drove cautiously, but expediently. He had precious cargo; namely all of them. But this one, especially. This one, that he'd especially wipe an entire playing board off the map for, and have no regrets for any of it. He drove, and did much else, that is until Allea decided to war-cry Harry's name.

"HARRY!" The blond was startled, but maintained focus, until the witch smacked into the back of Rhys' chair. This, the blond would not tolerate.
"Stop fucking around, I will end you—"
"Allea, what the fuck!?"
"Nik, you've got to stop him!" she was reaching for the blond like a cat on meth. Luckily, Rhys intercepted. The blond firmed his hands up on the wheel, still gnashing the jerky that was probably the only thing keeping him inside of his body, at the moment.
"The fuck drugs are you—"

Allea started prophesizing, apparently, as her eyes were dolloped in white, and she was digging into Rhys' arm like a scratching post.

"You've got to stop him, you're the only one who can get him to listen!"
"I'm too high for this," the blond said, shaking his head as he chewed. He turned a corner with a broad sweep, his brows narrowed in violent brushstrokes. He was, indeed, too high for this. But not high enough to keep the painted feelings from creeping on. More jerky, it is.

"I...didn't know she was a prophet."
"Well, fuck, me either—" the whitelighter had already gone, he guessed, to deposit Allea somewhere so she wasn't simply slumped and clinging.

Franklin had followed after Harry to figure out what ruckus was happening and why, her woodland-creature grimace unfurling.
"S'awwrite, in 'ere? S'makin' a fussn' all, doncha know..." Franklin watched as Rhys unceremoniously plopped Allea down into a cot and returned to the front. She looked up at her much taller friend, who had earned her trust and friendship a bit more easily than the others. Because of this, she would babble like a brook, and often wouldn't make a lick of sense in the process.

"Awww shit, Harry. I don't know nuthin' 'bout nothin', but it seems like somethin'. But what kinda' somethin'? Seems a big somethin' if it done knocked er' flat on 'er rear... Shucks, I guess..It is wut it is, and it isn't what it isn't, but sometimes it is what it isn't, doncha know," she said, like pine needles littering the floor, when all she needed was one single leaf to say it all. Then she paused, having heard Rhys earlier, and stared up at the man with a curious expression on her face.

"Wutsa' prophet do?"

Meanwhile, Nik was still driving, and still eating. In fact, he had gone in for a second helping, that of which Franklin had not given him. In fact, he had stolen it. She would be angry later, but angry like a pissed-off squirrel. Which, having been Olive's friend, he knew how to deal with. They were the same flavor of person; just add some pine cones, garble the speech, and give this one the power of being an excellent shot. He could handle her diminutive fury.

Nik opened his mouth to ask if everything was alright, but Rhys was curled up in the fetal position, the blanket swathed over his body. Leaning forward, Nik pulled the blanket up over his shoulder; a small comfort. Then, Nik dug around for his pink sunglasses, placed them on his face, dug into more drug-dried-beef, and hunkered onwards. The sunglasses were a distraction; if he hid his eyes, maybe he didn't have to really see the information he had just learned.

He drove for a while, until he noticed corpses nailed to crucifixes. The blond's weed-addled brain was enjoying none of this.

"You've got to be kidding me."
"Welllll," droned the blond, "this looks like a lovely little neighborhood. I, love, the ambiance," he ended on a flamboyant note, and the ended that note on a deep, nasally scoff. Before them was a tractor trailer, completely obstructing the path forward. The blond leaned forward over the steering wheel and let out a grating sound. The weed-jerky wasn't helping right now. The visages of crucified bodies were starting to freak him out. Crucifixes, on principle, freaked him out.

"Safe Haven this way, the Lord protects us."
"I am definitely way too fucking high for this. We should—"
"We should find away around."
"My fucking thoughts exactly."

Rhys' coughing was getting worse.

"Frankle, do you have anything to keep Princess Phlegm from hacking up a lung?" The woodland creature's pattering could be heard from behind him; it was distinct, like a skitter. Niklas looked back but she wasn't there. Then, he heard the sound of paper, plastic, cloth, and God-knows-what-else being rustled and tossed around. Then, came a heavy thud, and a disgruntled groan.

"NAW," she belted loud enough to rupture eardrums. The blond rolled his eyes, and proceeded to roll the vehicle onwards.

Rhys just kept on coughing. The blond refused the implications of that cough.

If they didn't have anything here—Nik saw another sign, with the same phrasing, with an arrow. Even though every fiber in his body told him not to follow them, and the language on the signs made him instinctively uneasy, he did. Because if whoever at the other end of this series of directions had something that would help Rhys die less quickly than he apparently was already, he would follow them.

He had followed them. Now, with his pink sunglasses on his face, a piece of weed-jerky in his mouth, and a look of pure, unadulterated disgust still yet hidden behind those very same pink sunglasses, he had followed them to a monastery.

"Gross," was all he said, before managing to meander the RV into a spot that made sense.

"Alright, Team America World Police. We're making a truck stop. Detective Peanut Butter needs a fix for whatever bacteria is squatting in his lungs, and you all need to bathe because you smell as bad as you look," Franklin, apparently took offense to this, because he could hear her disagreeing in her feral language, "Let's see if the Lord really does save and protect, blah blah blah."

Nik put the RV in park, fixed his sunglasses, and continued to not process any of what had cracked his brain in half. He stuck another piece of jerky in his mouth, and rounded outside to help his very sick, very male, very tall Princess over the threshold.

Franklin crawled from the vehicle with far too many bags on her back. They dwarfed her; apparently she didn't want to leave any of her things in the RV, for what reason Nik couldn't say. Maybe the human decorations had freaked her out, too.

What she saw hanging out of Nik's mouth sent her tiny mouth into a snarl, and her crystal-blue eyes wild; no longer freaked out.

"H-haw? Is that tha' rest'a my?!—"
"Silence!" Niklas hushed her, ripping the blanket from the passenger's seat to cloak the sick ex-detective like swaddling a baby.
"N-nAW!" Her little fists were clenched, as was her small jaw. Franklin wouldn't stay mad forever, though.
"Frank Zappa, if you don't shut your pie hole I will stuff a can of sardines in it."
"Yaw got more fishies?" Franklin's anger had been distracted already. Sardines were the answer to her little wars.

Niklas looked over the whitelighter, and then looked back at the others. He didn't know what would come to greet them, or what would happen next. But it sure as shit couldn't have been any worse than what they'd just gone through.

He hoped.
[/div][/div]
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[idalie]

Father Cymbeline Creed​

Location: Cor Jesu Monastery
Mentions: AAA!

A dark silhouette kneeled at the altar, lips moving to recite the words of God whilst rolling a rosary between his calloused fingers. Light streamed through the stained glass, wrapping about his shoulders in a coat of many colours. It spilt onto the cold floor, giving life to the chapel during the daylight hours; mesmerising designs of saints and sinners falling underfoot. To have returned to a place of worship and warmth after his travels across the broken land seemed to be fate. It lulled a faithful man into security, a lamb amongst wolves thinking he had found his shepherd.

Creed was half dead when the sisters discovered him, they had brought him back and tended for as long as he needed to recover. A blur of memories, black and white habits which framed the eyes that watched and waited. Surrounded by the scent of frankincense and myrrh, it stuck to the fabric of his clothes, saturated the bedsheets and reminded him of Mass. His dreams were fraught with the past those first few nights and as soon as he could walk, he would spend his hours in a haze. As if his mind was not entirely his own. Parts of the day would go missing, although all concerns were brushed aside as nuns would smile and soothe, “You fell asleep during prayer”.

Often waking with bruises on his arms, sore pin-pricks under his sleeves and occasionally the misbuttoned shirt, Creed’s questions were met with further mysteries. He was a respected Father of the priesthood but that monastery which sat in between hell and nowhere in particular, resembled nothing of what he’d pledged himself to. The growth of this paranoia never seemed to alarm Cymbeline, even though he knew it was a dangerous place to be. As if paralysed in a web, only able to utter warnings to the trees which tapped and crickets that chirped.

One of the Sisters by the name of Miranda had consoled him through his ordeals, brought him back down to Earth when it felt as if all would slip away. It was a misfortune that his days were filled mostly with the words of Sister Loui. She ensured he was preoccupied, dug her nails into his mottled veins to drag him from wandering too far. Encounters with her had been the worst and even though his memory was sketchier by the day, subconsciously he avoided the prim and proper nun.

Cymbeline raised his head from the recitations he whispered, drawing a quick cross over his chest. The Sisters peered from the windows of the chapel, voices quiet and shoes scuffling. New visitors, a cause for kindness and compassion - just as they had offered him. Excitement to hear from the outside world and offer the word of God, yet Miranda never seemed happy at the news; reaching for her rosary, enveloping the crucifix in a hand to hide the Lord’s eyes.

The priest, gaunt in the face but well-groomed, found his feet. He would welcome the strangers with open arms and ward them away with what fear he could muster. It was not the black veins he had arrived with which caused such a numb sensation in his head, he swore it vehemently to be a lie. The marks reminded him of his grief in the way a headstone brings tears to read the name engraved upon it. He refused to forget such a thing, not the smell, nor the pain. How the pews had roared with betrayal and crackled with seared skin.

Adjusting his clerical collar, he knew himself not to be the Father of this house of God but ever retained the instinct. Sister Loui would have no further hand in his wants and needs, that he swore to himself. For he had travelled across the fallen states for more than tricks, but redemption. Confessions would buzz about his skull holding great conversations of every traveller he’d passed, every last rite he’d preformed. Would they give him that much mercy here? Among women of the cloth with no second glance his way?

The Lord reveals deep and secret things; He knows what is in the darkness.​

​

​

code by @spookie spook​

 

[Anise]

Kayden ​

Blood coal-black oozing out of the gashes in his flesh. Eyes trained on the boy's. Hands, locked in a tight grip, braceleting his shoulders like iron restrains, fingertips shielded with razor-sharp nails, digging deeper, hungry for more. Face twisted, contorted, scrunched like a sheet of paper in unearthly grimace that made Kayden shiver in fear.



No. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears welling up stinging the eyelids. Samuel, his friend shall not be remembered by his last hours before the end. Before death. No. His friend will forever stay in his mind in the state he was on that day. It possibly might've been only a dream, too perfect to be true, but he never looked as much at peace as he did that day, that evening. His body illuminated by a soft orange glow of the last rays of sun of the day. Lying on a meadow dotted with early spring flowers, like sweet pastry coated in sugar. His ashen hair braided with daisies into something like a crown of sorts, a halo. His eyes closed, a few stray strands of hair carried by the breeze slowly dancing from side to side, his lips curled up into a faint smile. Tranquility. His whole body, mere existence radiating warmth, light.



Only when a flock of birds break the illusion, interspersing it with the images of his final seconds of existance the brown haired boy awakes and is burying his face in his hands again, hiding the tears.



His menacing grin. Tongue sticking out between his jaws. Then a bang and a thud. Corpse bathing in blood stuck in his brain, painted on the insides of his eyes, never leaving. Never.



He thought dreams would be the best escape ticket yet he was wrong. The safe haven he was searching to run away from others, from himself, from his deeds was nowhere in sight. Not at the hand's reach. The feeling of guilt rose up in his chest again, making his stomach churn. Rhys. But he'd deserved it, hadn't he? After hearing all the blessed guy did. After hearing now all of them were obligated to save the world from the flames of hell engulfing it whole, saving it from inferno otherwise their souls would be destroyed, he deserved it, didn't he? What is a little cold compared to selling your soul to heaven or hell without your permission? They were already doomed, yet doing it without them knowing and then not telling them-



-or wait. Could he had not known it before he found it out from the ginger and the guy he was later thrown at?



Kayden lifted his head. Gazing out the window he rubbed his cheeks dry with the sleeves of his hoodie. Yes, he was still wearing his battle clothes, plastered to his body at places where blood had dried. It bothered him, but not nearly as much as the situation they were in. 3 months. This is how much time they have. 3 months before Rhys-




Read eyed, with purple eyelids from excess crying he remained stillness by the window, unreachable to the outside world from the moment he entered the vehicle till the RV came to a sudden stop with a slight jolt, making him shift his focus to the blond talking. He didn't quite catch the words, his mind still lost in a haze, yet his legs moved from under him, taking him after the others out of the vehicle.



Standing beside it, behind the other people his body froze in place ready to take in new orders.



Without any weapons, vulnerable yet strong, without any emotion, his backpack slung carelessly over his right shoulder, the only thing moving being his hair that was just as Sam's being carried from side to side by the wind.



He took in a deep breath.



After a few days of mulling over unnecessary things, he seemed to have accepted the situation and was ready to deal with some more bullshit.



Not like Kayden he used to be, but like Kayden he'd never thought he'd become...

 

[Chise_Robin_]

Location: uuuuuuuuuh, vampire county?
interacting: Hell0NHighWater BasiliskVeranda Anise

Alaska Roberts​

''The Last Judgement is upon us, heaven and hell are engaged in an all out war."
"If you haven't noticed sweet cheeks, it's come at quite the price. The fall of civilization, destruction of humanity, Armageddon.''

Queen of hell, angels, demons, and Armageddon...... As if the apocalypse wasn't enough already. Music blasting out of the damn radio was the only thing breaking the silence in the RV. Everyone was living their own costume mental breakdown, which frankly was the only reasonable thing to be doing at a time like that.

Bullets clicked, one by one, as she loaded them into her gun absently. Her mind wandering over the events of the past three days.
She'd poured herself a cup of coffee....the last cup of coffee, and gladly enjoyed its smell, which helped cover the smell of sweat and blood that stuck to everyone including herself.

Sleep came to her so easily that night, that even Allea's screaming only managed to get a grunt out of the young hunter, and when the RV stopped, she'd felt she had the first good night's sleep in a century..... Appreciate the good things....cling on to them.

The first sight to greet her eyes the minute she'd jumped out of the RV was the crucified corps ''Great....what's next'' She eyed Frankie in an exasperated look and offered to carry some of her bags, the girl looked like she was buried with them.

Her eye caught Rhys as he coughed and wheezed, we need to find somewhere safe, we need to find somewhere safe.
Kayden's words must have weighed tons on the half angel, and Alaska wasn't able to talk to either of them about it. Everyone, except for Frankie seemed to take on a vow of silence, everyone seemed to be so lost, apathy descended like fog on them, and it was rather calming that no one asked questions this time....It was as if nothing else could surprise them anymore, the apocalypse had taken it's toll on them.

''What do we do now?'' The voice escaping her mouth came softer than she'd anticipated as she now stood in front of Nik, who seemed as lost as everyone else. She regretted the question the minute it came out of her mouth. It wasn't fair, putting anyone in charge, including Rhys. Her chestnut colored eyes disappeared behind shut lids as her fingers closed around the last pack she had in her pocket, and taking it out she handed the afflicted one of the two remaining cigarettes, and put the other between her lips. A mini cloud of smoke surrounded her face as she turned her gaze towards the RV and couldn't help but wonder if they'll make it out alive one more time.
Hope is futile in such situations, and despite that, they couldn't just stand there and wait the apocalypse out.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

xxxx

Location: Jefferson County, TN

Interactions: BELIAL. BasiliskVeranda Chise_Robin_ Anise Lakyr Lekiel idalie Cara


Music to set the Mood

ALLEA

Off-white flecks fell from an ugly, moulting, grey sky. The street was, to the naked eye, abandoned. Vehicles of every kind littered the area like skeletons, left behind by their human owners in blind panic. The ash was piling into soft plush mounds that created an almost off serenity to the desolate scene. The flakes fell slowly, the air was almost still, but the flurries were so thick that they had begun to obscure the view of the seemingly abandoned street. From a dirty, ash crusted, framed window a pair of kyanite eyes narrowed at the stillness. Narrowed at her. She knew those eyes. Allea tried to take a step forward, but something held her in place. The world around her became a blanket of grey, soundless except for her own breath.

“Nik!?” Allea jumped at the sudden yell, hands snapping to her ears. Penny was a flurry of movement charging past her in a haze of blonde and white. Allea turned in place, hands back at her side, watching as she bolted straight into the haze of ash. What was happening? Where was she? Her mouth opened but no sound would leave her. "WHAT THE HELL?!" Ryan's low tenor penetrated the lull of silence, staggering her from it's sheer ferocity.

"Well, it looks like you have big, bad me, right where you want me," Nik's voice filtered through, the murmurs becoming more and more prevalent. People speaking over each other. Amber orbs tracked the abandoned street around her, but it was getting harder and harder to see. There was a pause, a break of blessed silence before another voice began to murmur from behind her. Allea turned her head, jumping as Alaska strolled past. An arms width away. As solid and as real as an apparition. There was something in her hands, a box, but Allea couldn't tell what it was exactly. "I'd expect that from Nik, guess you didn't lose all your sense of humor."

She tried to call her back, tried to reach out, but the huntress had vanished just as quickly as she had appeared.
"That... was fun." Reverie's voice caressed the shell of her ear, hot breath teasing the hairs on the back of her neck. Allea turned. She wasn't there.
“ Yup.. we are dead meat now,” Niylah's voice floated sarcastically through the air, everywhere and nowhere at once.

Her arms folded over her chest, legs threatening to buckle as fear clawed it's way up her spine. Tears began to gloss her vision, air forced itself into her lungs, and her shoulders began to shake. She didn't want to be here --wherever here was-- she wanted out.

"Living without taking some risks would be boring. And with hell on earth, everything's a risk." James sat in the center of the street, attention focused on something that she could not see. Allea managed a step, managed to reach out, eyes widening as her fingers moved right through him. He burst into a cloud of ash. Allea jumped backward, falling on her ass as she pushed herself away from where he had been. The moment her hand touched something wet she froze. Her throat felt tight as she yanked her hand away. Palm coated in crimson. Allea turned her head towards the sound of liquid bubbling, watching in horror as the ground itself began to bleed red. It covered everything. A thousand different voices screamed in unison. She shut her eyes, covered her ears, and prayed for it all to stop.

When she opened her eyes again, it was all gone. The cityscape, the blood, the voices --it was all gone. Before her was a path of bones and dead leaves. She couldn't tell where it lead, but something told her to follow. Bones snapped like twigs, breaking under her weight as she walked. A glint of light caught her attention and what followed was a sickly caw. A bird with grievous eyes and ink stained wings, seemed to float over to her with the swift movement of a wing. It landed on the branch in front of her and cawed once again. She moved forward past the crow she was trying desperately to ignore. Allea could feel it's eyes like knives in her back. It cawed again in mockery, as if it knew she couldn't leave this place. Her jaw clenched, gaze wildly searching for an exit. This was unlike any dream she had ever experienced before. She didn't even remember falling asleep. Had she? It was the only real explanation...but the stench of burning flesh and sound of snapping bones were all too real.

"HARRY!" His name was a plea echoed in her voice though she did not say it. It rocked the forest around her, a powerful gale that uprooted trees and almost blew her off her feet. She shielded her face as the bones and leaves were shoved away in what felt like a fit of rage. Allea gripped at her chest, fighting to keep herself upright. She tired to cast something, make a miracle from nothing, but there was no magic here. When she had faced the Lich she still had her magic, still had this illusion of control, now that it was stripped away she felt naked. Afraid. Vulnerable.

"It's been a while, Ma Poupette. You should have known I was harder to kill." He stood in the middle of the chaos, teeth too white and lips too wide. For what felt like the millionth time her body locked up, entranced by the image of a man who she had hoped to never see again. He looked as he always did, as he was in New Orleans before the hell gates opened. She wasn't sure how that was possible.

Her voice sounded small even to her own ears, "Castor?"

The crow settled itself on his shoulder, head twitching, eyes watching. Her gut curled in on itself. There was suddenly an overwhelming urge to vomit. At first, she thought that the wind had brought in a heavy fog. But it was black. Thicker. Smoke. Flecked with glowing embers and the heat of fire. It began to consume him until he vanished from her sight just like everyone else. Allea turned in a slow circle, disoriented, confused, lost.

Through the suffocating smoke came the cut-out of a man, light seemed to spill from him like sunlight. A beacon. A burning man. He gazed at her with eyes that reminded her of red-hot coals pacified to a bluish hue. He moved as if he were dancing, cutting through the smoke with otherworldly grace. The clash of steel rumbled like thunder, shook the very foundation of the earth. It was then that she realized he wasn't dancing; he was fighting.
"Nik, you've got to stop him!" She pulled her shirt over her nose as her own voice echoed in the distance. Smoke curled through the thin fabric and billowed in dense clouds of sickly scents. Tendrils of it swirled up into her lungs as she breathed in deeply and burned invisible holes of foreshadowed diseases. She choked.

"You've got to stop him, you're the only one who can get him to listen!"

Two winged strangers fought over the edge of the world while the devil sat back and laughed.

The crow cawed once more and the smoke swallowed her whole.

⤫⤫⤫​

Her head throbbed. The pain felt like someone had taken a knife to her skull. She took a slow breath, willing the pain to go away. The rest of the world felt detached, all she could concentrate on was the pain rooted deep in her head. Allea could barely hear the voices chattering around her. Her eyes remained closed, counting the beats of her own heart. When the dryness of her throat finally became too uncomfortable to ignore, she opened her eyes slowly. Relief allowed her muscles to relax, taking in the familiar surroundings of the RV. Pulling herself into a sitting position, her gaze focused briefly on--

"Welcome back to the world of the livin' little lady."
Allea scowled, "Mordecai. I thought you left."

The deceased cowboy flashed her a wicked grin and she could see the gaps of his missing teeth. The ones that he did had were stained yellow presumably from tobacco. "Yew'd have to try harder than that to get rid of me."
Allea got to her feet, rubbing her left shoulder as she attempted to work out a kink in the muscle. "Noted." Her grumbled response was just as dry and cracked as the desert her mouth had become. She pulled a water bottle from the mini fridge, twisting the cap off before chugging half of it. Mentally she was still trying to catch herself up. The visions had started becoming...more real. For a while she had thought they were just dreams, fabrications of the mind. But after the monolith, she was beginning to doubt just how fake they were. It was a grim thought. One she really didn't wish to dwell too long on. Ignoring the supernatural baggage hovering a couple feet away, Allea took the time to look around the RV. No one was here.

"Yer friends are outside."
Her nose crinkled, fixing Mordecai with a glare, "Ain't my friends."
"Could've fooled me." If she knew her fist wouldn't go through him, she might have punched him. To be fair, if she knew she could touch him she might have killed him herself long ago. Allea opened the door to the RV, raising a hand to blot out the sun. It was too bright. She felt like she was going to be sick again, caught in the sweet smoke and burning flames. Shaking her head, she took another breath and reminded herself that it was just a fucked up hallucination. The outline of a tall building came into focus, a cross had been built at the top of the steeple, a church. The atheist inside her sneered a bit before her gaze moved back to the group that had mingled just outside the RV. Probably trying to figure out what to do. Allea opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of the monastery doors swinging open instantly quieted her. A woman, a nun, made her way towards them with palms open.

"Welcome, brothers, sisters. My name is Sister Loui, it is always a pleasure to see new faces in these troubled times." She sounded chipper, pleasant, as if the world hadn't ended. Allea could tell just from the woman's body language that she was trying desperately to appear as nonthreatening as possible. Something about that....didn't quite sit right. But it could also have been because she was greeting an unknown and didn't want to get shot. If that were the case, then this nun had balls of pure brass.

"Oh, dear, are you well?" At the question, Allea's attention was redirected to Rhys. Detective McFury was looking a little under the weather, hanging off of Nik as if the blond were the only thing keeping him on his feet. She heard him wheeze slightly, "No disrespect, Sister, but do you always ask stupid questions?"
Allea fought against the smirk crawling across her face, moving down the few steps to stand between Reverie and Frankie. For half a heartbeat she thought Rhys might get slapped with a ruler.

The irritation bled from Sister Loui's expression, moving her gaze to the rest of the group, "Please, come in. The House of God is open to all. I'll have the Sisters get the rooms ready and I'm sure Father Creed can scrounge up some medication." Her finger's curled around Rhys' forearm as she gently pulled him from Nik's side. Rhys made a reluctant noise, but didn't fight. Maybe he didn't have the strength to. Either way, she used him to lead the rest of the group into the Monastery.