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Kalanna Rai
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 Posted: Fri Dec 07, 2007 10:46 pm Post subject: ILS: Paradise City- Story Thread |
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This is an Interactive Linear Story. If you'd like to participate in it please post your comments and suggestions in the discussion thread. This thread is just for the story itself so enjoy the read.
Warning: This is rated 17+ for mature content and themes! Reader discretion is advised.
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Paradise City
Prologue: The City Alone
He said turn me around
And take me back to the start
I must be losing my mind
"Are you blind?!"
I've seen it all a million times
-Paradise City by Guns N' Roses
Paradise City is anything but. It's a rotting cesspool of humanity where poisons are plotted in posh penthouses by trust fund debutantes sick of waiting for their inheritance. In the sleazy back alleys, souls are sold for an ounce of coke or whatever fix you crave. On the dim street corners, innocence is lost for a fist full of dollars. And sirens scream across the night as the blood of violent crime paints the streets red.
Then, at three a.m., the City will go quiet. That's when the Demons crawl forth from their shadowed Lairs to scrape the remains of humanity off the ground and make deals they cannot keep for Souls they cannot lose. You see Paradise City is on the front lines between heaven and hell. There's a demon in every shadow and a shadow in almost every human heart in the city. The Angels who call this place home are hard pressed...because there's precious little faith to go around.
Not to say there aren’t good people, there are, struggling to live their daily lives. They can all sense that their city is dying around them, rotting despite the facade the wealthy maintain. But very few, if any, mortals realize that the corruption and decay are being caused by powers divine, infernal, and paranormal. Indeed, mention the word 'angel' to them and they'll think you're from some church group...not Heaven.
They are simple, down to earth souls. They're trying to raise 2.5 children, and trying to do it well with decent standards of living. They live homes in the western suburbs, the upper middle class world of two car garages and PTA meetings. They walk friendly dogs and struggle with bills and try not to piss too many people off per day. They're as normal and fallible as the next person and maybe it's that which allows them to hold their ground against the outside forces.
Contrasting that is the East Side, a haven of clubs both shady and cutting edge. It's the kind of place that's only one step above the slums, the kind of place where you move if you're working two jobs and can still afford a little trouble in your life. It's not wonderful but it's the kind of place where people say they spent their 'character building years'. It's in the here that most of your paranormal residents can be found...those that can keep a steady job and a low profile that is.
You find bars that cater only to the Fair Folk, underground clubs run by vampires, and even the dens of werewolves disguised as run down apartments. It's also here that many angels live because of it's proximity to where they work. Though there are few churches in the east side, there's quite a lot of holy ground in the rundown parks and cemeteries. The angels make due with what they're given and watch as the East Side is slowly giving way under the pressure of it's neighbors.
Surrounding much of the city are the slums known only as The Rot. It's here that babies are swapped for rocks of crack and peepshows are advertised in garish neon. The tenants lean together like broken old women, huddling for warmth against the cold. It's pained in a rainbow of graffiti, all covered in uniform filth. The streets and walls are stained with blood and the cops don't venture in alone.
Street gangs and ruffians hold sway and nobody is ever without a weapon of some kind. The demons, both minor and not, stalk the shadows and boldly walk the streets. Here those paranormal residents who cannot control themselves prey upon those who cannot rise above the soul-crushing poverty. The Unseelie Court and the Brotherhood of Shadows are at war over servants and corpses while the demons take the souls left behind. To be alone, at night, in The Rot is to know the face of evil.
In the center of the city, amid a few parks and low buildings, rise the towers of Downtown, the home of big business. Massive corporate headquarters rear steel and glass heads eighty stories in the air. Men and women in power suits hold business lunches and teleconferences while overlooking the urban sprawl from a bird's eye view.
There are shops and attractions, all manner of such. It's the hub of the city and all roads lead here, both good and bad. It's here the honest people struggle to make a buck while the dastardly and dishonest take two more from unguarded pockets. Here hearts beat cooler and heads prevail as money is the only universal language spoken.
And then there's Northside, with it's dazzling displays of wealth and power. Here the idle rich live in mansions built onto the side of a mountain. Here they look down over the city at their feet, smoking cigars and drinking expensive liquor. Here a few philanthropists war with their arrogant neighbors and do good deeds no matter who looks down their nose at them afterward.
A city within a city, security is tight and walls protect them with gates tightly shut. In Northside, elegance is valued over integrity and the veneer of good manners is worth more than an honest heart. It's a posh world of shadow killers and those who would buy their way into heaven if possible. It's a place where demons are embraced and hidden away while angels are shunned for the truth they bring.
Yes, welcome to Paradise City. Don't say you weren't warned...
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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| Posted: Fri Dec 07, 2007 10:57 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter One: The Honeypot, like a rat to the slaughter
Madame Taraneh Parvenah lay reclining resplendently on her chaise lounge, in her suites of her beautiful sprawling Northside Mansion, The Honeypot. She’d had The Honeypot built two years ago and the beautiful white marble grand foyer, immaculately kept grounds, elegantly refined sitting rooms and her own set of suites which occupied the entire second floor (and both wings) had only taken 6 months to build. It never failed to impress the young Madame just how much could be done if the right money was waved around and the right secrets kept (or not).
Each of her 22 girls (known as the Bees) had their own set of private rooms and they shared 5 common areas used for entertaining ‘guests’. They also had a full wait-staff including maids, chefs and butlers, catering to the needs of each girl 24/7. It had quickly become the aim of every girl in The Rot, not to mention many of the Paradise City debutantes, to become one of the Bees. Every girl was well looked after, was given her independence and an allowance to spend as she would, knowing well that at the age of 30 each women was given the choice to either retire (with a considerable pension) or take over one of Madame Tara’s lesser establishments. The prospect of netting one of the regular Joes as a sugar daddy, with the blessings of Madame Tara, was also an alluring prospect. A night spent with the right man could lead to a life of luxury and privileges, unlike any they could expect to gain through any other means. Of course it was a given that they would provide Tara with any ‘helpful’ information they may come across along the way.
Madame Taraneh Parvenah looked after her girls very well, she was a realist and was quite aware of the fact that the weaker of her sex could fall prey to the wrong man. Was it her fault if she considered the wrong man to be any that earned under $150,000? No. She cautioned her girls well and taught them every lesson she’d had to learn the long way. She gave her Bees everything they needed and was the sponsor of many of the small family businesses down in The Rot. Not to mention the other financial endeavours she was party too. She took very personally any threat to one of her girls or those she considered her ‘people’. She smiled to herself and almost chuckled out loud at the thought that she, Madame Taraneh Parvenah, was the neck that controlled many of the finest and well-to-do ‘heads’ in the Downtown. Madame Tara had a reputation as a fierce businesswoman and at just 26 was also one of the most feared everything she had come into had been earned or hard won. Madame T looked after her own. This was also what had led to her current appointment.
Madame Tara exhaled quietly, regaining her well-known Ice Queen composure. Her beautiful raven hair spread out behind her, spilling over the amethyst pillows and reaching to trail onto the floor. Her royal blue silk robe covered her body strategically and the glimpses of her naked flesh tantalised the man who sat in the wing chair opposite. She uncrossed her legs and slid one up underneath the other, using her perfectly toned figure to its best advantage. Throwing one arm back over her head, she played with the fringe on the pillows behind her and used the positioning of the other to place her breasts just so.
‘So, what you are saying, is that you think that it is your right to take money from people in exchange for protection?’
She reached a perfectly manicured hand over to the end table and played her fingers across the rows of chocolate, lined up in perfectly straight lines on the blue and white patterned fine china. Choosing by memory of feel alone, she selected one and holding it between two fingers, she slowly brought the sweet to her lips.
Tenderly biting into it, she raised her amber eyes to her guest. Holding his focus she chewed and swallowed, following up with a gentle lick of her lips. Biting her bottom lip between her teeth she pushed herself into an upright position. Not once removing her eyes from him she took a long draught of wine from her glass.
‘Is that what you are saying?’ She lent forward, her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands.
The large man in the seat in front of her shifted uncomfortably. He ran a finger around his collar and swallowed. His lime green pinstripe suit, that had seemed so modern and trendy when preparing for this appointment, no longer seemed so. In these suites, decorated to reflect feminine style and elegance, the suit was gaudy and inappropriate. Her presence itself was physically unnerving, with glimpses of her tan skin making him feel light headed.
Pull it together Paulino, he chided himself, it’s just a broad. He ran a hand through his short gel spiked hair, took a breath and began to speak.
‘Well, Ms Paravenah, you see it’s like this...’
The woman had raised her hand silently after his first words, halting his speech with a gesture.
‘It’s Madame, Madame Paravenah.’ She shook her head at him, smiling gently, as if admonishing a small child. ‘Continue.’
‘You see, Ma’m, er, Madame, it’s like this. Those people they could get ripped off by someone who meant to do them harm. By paying us a small amount they can rest easy in the knowledge they are looked after.’
He had regained his confidence with his speech, speaking to her as if to an idiot. Treating her like she was a simpleton and all because she was female. Tara laughed to herself and revelled in the knowledge that, once again, a man had underestimated her.
Reaching forward he placed a hand on her knee, caressing it roughly, Tara froze and placed her hand over his. Turning his hand palm up she ran her fingers lightly across it and watched his eyes. Taking his fingers between her own she curled his hand up into a fist.
‘Oh rest assured Sir, my people are always looked after. They have no need of a Knight in white armour, not when they have their Princess AND the Dragon.’
She ran her nails quickly across his exposed wrist, leaving a thin line of red behind. So faint was it that he hadn’t even noticed as she used her other hand to indicate towards her PA standing in the shadows.
‘This is my PA, he will take care of this little situation for me. My time is precious and can’t be spent in moments such as these.’
Rising from her seat, she let her hand trail along the back of his arm and up over his shoulders, walking into the room beyond. Her long hair cascaded down her back as she walked and tickled the exposed flesh behind her knees.
While Tara contemplated investing in a new rug, the noises behind her grew in volume from soft murmurs, as of voices consulting, to screams of fear. The sounds of the door opening and closing in quick succession gave her the signal and she turned, facing the room once more.
Re-entering the room she looked over at where her PA Dragon lounged in the chair. Long legs crossed at the ankles he idly tapped a cigar on his palm, his brown fedora dipped down low over one eye and a lazy smile playing on his face. He ran a hand across the front of his immaculately tailored suit and winked at her cheekily, she took a moment to pretend at being affronted, before allowing a smile. Lying back onto her lounge she yawned and stretched. Maybe she had time for a quick nap before her dinner date with the Senator?
As if in answer to her thoughts Lisette entered the room and passed her a chenille throw. How was it that she always knew exactly what Tara wanted? She mused. Must be good breeding. She was a good hire - that’s for sure.
De-licious, De-lightful, De-lovely, she sang to herself preparing to snuggle down into the blankets. Casting a glance at her PA, who quickly averted his eyes elsewhere, she slipped off her robe and let the chenille caress her skin.
Dragon rose, inspecting the vacant chair and grabbing up a pillow as he turned to leave the room.
‘It is always such a pain when they struggle, it does so mess things up...’ His rich British timbre filled the room and his musky aftershave lingered long after he had closed the door.
Tara slipped into a peaceful sleep.
***
After she had taken the time to dress with excruciating care for her dinner date, Tara decided to visit the girls. She paused, observing her reflection in the mirror in the upstairs foyer of the Old Manor house.
Her beautifully embroidered ruby red dress perfectly set off the brown hues of her skin and a very few touches of make up, including a deep red lipstick completed the ensemble. Tara very seldom bothered with accessories and had been told by her girls, that even completely covered, she was very much naked.
Sex on legs, Daniella had called her.
Slipping on her red Jimmy Choo’s she sashayed down the marble staircase like a siren from a 50s film. She could almost hear the music playing in the background, the jazz beat echoing the movement of each hip, reaching fever pitch as she got to the bottom of the stairs. The Senator stood below, eyes raised as she approached, staring as if at the Holy Mother descending from Heaven (although one with considerably more sex appeal).
Her Marilyn-eque entrance was ruined when she found herself suddenly dizzy and she was forced to grab out at the balustrade.
Then, as if dreaming, she found herself standing in the shadows of a large elm tree. There before her a magnificent being stood, his face illuminated by some inner fire, his every feature visible and moving in its beauty.
Hearing a scuffling noise, as of movement, away to her right – Tara turned. There facing off against the Michelangelo was a figure that seemed far too flawed by comparison.
As the two came together with a resounding cry, Tara found herself standing once again on the balustrade the Senator still gazing adoringly.
Regaining her composure she continued her descent, knowing through past experience that barely a moment had passed and nothing untoward would have been noticed by anyone else.
Taking the arm of Senator Drew Lenardson, Madame Taraneh Paravenah relented to a kiss on the cheek, emerging into the night with the image of a great battle burnt onto her consciousness.
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Elsewhere in the city, something powerful was stalking it's prey...
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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| Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2008 12:37 am Post subject: |
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Cold Blooded Bastard
"Where is he?" His voice was hard and hissed through fully extended fangs, the reflected gleam of which was seen in the huge, terrified eyes of his victim. The creature squirmed in Bastin's grip, but Bastin's fingers were fisted into it's flesh as if the skin were a garmet of poor cloth. "Well?" Bastin demanded again, slamming the creature into the wall to emphasize his words.
"I...d..d..don't k...k..know! I..I'm j..just the m..messenger! I..I've never e..even s..s...seen h...HIM!" It's stammers halted as Bastin pressed his face close. He took a deep breath, eyes closing as he analyzed the aroma.
Opening his eyes a wide smile crossed his angelic face, making his long fangs seem perverse at the least. "Liar." He whispered sibilantly. His wings, wide and black, rustled in the night wind. "I can smell the scent of the Silver Blood upon you. And since it's not myself I'm smelling...it has to be him." He slammed the creature again. "Where. Is. He? Last chance minion."
The creature's bowels let go as it whimpered. "H...he..he'll kill me!"
Bastin laughed. "Oh...and I'm just going to let you walk away? I think not. Even were you not a servant of my most hated foe...you are a demon. I have absolutely no qualms about what I will do to you...once you give me the information I seek." The demon gave a shrill scream as divine power burned into it, the scent of it's shock and fear a heady vintage for Bastin.
"What in the hells are you!"
Bastin lifted the creature off the wall with one hand firmly gripped in it's flesh. With the other it produced a sword forged in heaven and bourn only by Archangels charged with the gravest of duties. "I am that which Heaven forgets and Hell looks upon in wonder. I am...myself."
A scream like no other split the night and the shadows on the wall painted a grusome picture accentuated with spattered blood. A few moments later, Bastin exited the alleyway shaking his hands. A trace of black blood lingered and he licked it away delicately, pulling a face as he did so. "Ug...charcoal flavored. What does a damned angel have to do in this town for decent food...kill someone?"
He realized how corney that sounded and rolled his eyes. "Great...just great." Jamming his hands in his pockets and willing his wings away he moved swiftly through the crowds. He was relieved when his wings faded seemlessly into nothingness. Like his fangs they appeared under duress but at night sometimes he couldn't get rid of them. Someone jostled him, no doubt looking for his nonexistant wallet to steal, and it was all he could do not to smash their face against the concrete.
He needed food before he ripped out the throat of some innocent not that too many of them existed this deep in The Rot. Luckily he knew a place where food was just a request away. A grim hardened look settled on his angelic features as he headed for the East Side. He'd hate himself in the morning.
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There was no sign to mark the club. It was one of those places you either knew about or didn't. The two bouncers who were discreetly tucked away didn't so much as bat an eye at Bastin as he passed them and walked down the steps toward the entrance. Here a long line stretched into the tunnels that ran along, an abandoned subway extension. He walked past those waiting in the line, coming to another bouncer.
Again he walked past without issue, much to the protest of a few in line. Their protests were cut off as the heavy steel door slammed shut and the music pulsed around him. He moved through the lush hallway and was suddenly at the top of some stairs that descended to the dance floor. It was filled with wildly gyrating bodies, as usual. He rolled his eyes and descended into the fray.
He hated the press of bodies as he manuvered his way through them. Hands reached out from everyone, human and not alike all striving to touch him for reasons they couldn't comprehend. He had to smile as one bold vampyress reached out to caress his chest and pulled her hand away quickly, the scent of charred flesh in the air. A cross was burnt into her palm, matching the cross Bastin wore on a silver chain around his neck. He grinned at her as he passed, his mouth slipping close to her ear.
"True faith bitch."
Finally he made it across the floor and up the steps on the other side where booths and tables were scattered around and mixed with couches and piles of pillows. Some of these were occupied but Bastin ignored them, heading for a door with a crystal handel at the very back. Opening it he walked down a small hallway and into a room with a two-way mirror. Looking through it he gazed down at the dance floor and waited.
Soon enough the door opened again to admit a slim woman. "Sebastine, that time again already?" He turned and looked at her, his scarlet hair falling into eyes the color of blue murder. Suddenly her hands were on both sides of his face, her kiss deep and longing. She pulled back and searched his eyes before pulling away. "Damn, no good. One of these days I will seduce you."
With a sardonic smile he took the glass goblet of blood from her deftly. "Unlikely." He downed it quickly and handed it back to her before walking back to the mirror. "I'm just here for my usual."
"Uh-huh. What do you have for payment?" He flipped her the rolled up skin of the demon from earlier and her eyes widened. "Real demon skin? What kind is it?" Bastin shrugged.
"Damned if I know. I'm a little out of date on these things. They come out with so many new breeds it's hard to keep up. I'm sure one of the angels could tell you." Mystik glared at him.
"You're funny, you know that. An angel would run me through without a second thought." She snapped her fingers a few times, summoning another girl. After whispering to her she waved the girl off and walked over to stand next to him.
"Full crowd tonight. Usual mix too."
"Not as many humans around as their used to be...willing ones at least."
"You go after those who arn't willing and you know I'll hit you like a ton of bricks." It was then that the servent girl returned with a basket. Mystik took it from her and handed it to Bastin who examined the contents...three packs of Medical Blood type O. He pocketed them and turned to leave.
"Sebastine. You wouldn't really...I mean if I go down what will you do for gossip and blood?"
Bastin turned and grinned at her. "I'd probably have to start doing all those things I'm too lazy to do. Like get them for myself." And with that he walked out, heading for his home in an abandoned church eight blocks away.
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He was almost home, just passing Heartland Park, when something made him stop and peer into the shadows. His brows wrinkled and a smile lit his features. "By the pricking in my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Now what had moved into his neighborhood?
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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| Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2008 12:38 am Post subject: |
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A Battle in Heartland
Albert stood and faced the blackness of the street ahead of him. People wandered in aimless patterns. Junkies looking for smack, nerds and insecure losers seeking the warmth of a hooker’s body. The poor and misguided miscreants of society were out in droves. Albert mused as a woman and man walked down an alley way. For as little as twenty bucks a whore would take to her knees and tend to your personal affairs, and never mind the broken glass cutting into her flesh. There were children to feed, rent to pay, habits to support. The Rot was the place to come when you were short in both cash and respect. Five minutes and the whore returned to her corner, but the man never walked back out. Perhaps she had killed him rather than please him? It was possible. Anything imaginable happened here, even some things that should never be imagined were likely to occur. They happened every night..
If it weren’t for his vendetta, Albert would move on. He would leave this simmering cesspool of degradation and filth and find a happier, saner place to live. But, as happiness was found in the destruction of evil spirits, he remained. He thought back to the chimes, and the pleasant feelings that they produced. Orgasmic delight had never been experienced by him, but he was sure that the feelings that he felt were quite similar, if not the same. Only he didn’t have to worry about a wet spot afterwards.
Albert began to walk. He had no fear for his life, his soul. The hookers had nothing to offer him. He possessed great loathing for the peddlers of chemicals that altered your mood. They with their poisons that created traps within the mind and body, enslaving all those that tried everything until they found the one drug that they could not live without. He would kill these men and women if he were given the choice, but the White only gave him permission to protect himself, and destroy the fallen and forsaken who crawled up out of the depths of hell. Albert was no Constantine, but they had their similarities none the less. He had never died, but had he taken the time to consider it, he would have found that he had never truly lived either.
His feet carried him away from the Rot, towards Heartland Park. One of the more upscale areas in the day, it became a gathering place for the demons at night. Perhaps he would get lucky tonight? Find a pair or even trio of entities deserving of death? Perhaps. Most likely he would spend a few hours sitting on a bench, unobtrusive and unobserved until dawn came. Then he could return home and rest. Prepare for another night.
Whether they knew he was coming or not, he saw no creatures of evil on his wandering. He had almost given up any hope of action this evening. Then, as he entered the park, there was a disturbance in the air. There, before him, seemingly materializing before his very eyes, was a woman of such profound beauty that even he, with all his efforts and training, could not help but become aroused. He quickly pictured his bleeding father, driving out the lustful thoughts that threatened to overcome his mind.
She turned and put her finger to her luscious lips, and then pointed into the park. Albert walked to her, glancing in the direction that she had pointed. When he was close enough to whisper and be heard, he spoke to her.
“Hello madam. Do we know one another?” She seemed familiar to him, but he was unsure why. She merely nodded a negation, and pointed again.
They began to walk in the direction that she was gesturing towards. Step by step, as if compelled to come, they approached a large elm. She looked startled as two figures came out of the dark, both with anger and hatred etched over their faces. They circled one another, waiting, trying to force the other to attack.
He looked at the aura’s of the two, and found one to be a shocking mass of deepest black and purest white. The other was not there. This was a demon. He reached to draw his sword, forged by the smiths of heaven itself. Supposedly the hand of God himself had blessed this blade. A shaman had told him that, just before Albert had struck him dead. The shaman had been possessed by a spirit of darkness. There was naught else that Albert could have done, although he would have preferred to have left the old man alive. He may have had more knowledge to offer. Albert would have to wait for his own death before he would ever know. The lady once again signaled for Albert to desist from doing anything. He shoved he sword back into it’s scabbard gently, leaving it unlocked and readily accessible should he have need of it.
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Bastin circled warily, eying the demon up and down. A smile suffused his pale countenance with all the charm of an executioner with a bloody axe. "You've picked a poor place to linger hellion."
The demon eyed him back, flesh rippling as it's true nature attempted to break free of it's stolen flesh. "And what will you do about it vampire? Surely our interests are mutual?"
Bastin laughed, harsh and hollow as a December breeze. "The only thing mutual is our hatred. You know damn well I'm more than I seem. Your hesitation suggests you must be less than you appear." That did it. The demon's form began to shift. With a smile Bastin hurled himself toward it, singing a song with no words that no one could fail to understand. It was the song of an angel in battle, a requiem for the demon. With a roar like a wounded tiger the demon charged, mortal flesh falling behind as it did so.
Bastin suddenly found himself grappling with something nearly twice his height. He recognized the overall breed, an Infernal, but not the sub-class. It's snapping jaws were inches from his own face, his hands locked in a grip against it's talons. It's tail lashed at him and his wings ripped free to buffet it's face. He smiled up at it and suddenly broke his grip, ducking under as the beast lost balance for a moment.
Quick as a flash his sword was in his hands and moving swiftly upwards, splitting the creature from groin to collar. He whirled and made a second slash, this one gouging the demon from shoulder to massive shoulder. It fell backward, it's black blood dousing Sebastine as it did. He stood there for a few moments, breathing in ragged huffs, sword still at the ready. Finally he relaxed and turned to stare into the darkness toward the two figures shrouded within it.
"It's alright...you can come out." Slowly the figures resolved into a beautiful woman and a man with an aura Bastin hadn't seen since the last of the Christian Crusades. He was about to speak when the woman pointed and shouted out a warning. Bastin whirled just in time to miss being riven in two by the demon's claws. With a pound of his wings he sprang skyward, the remains of his much abused shirt trailing down after him.
His eyes narrowed and his voice was cold between his fangs. "I don't know how you did that demon but I'm not in the habit of leaving things half finished." He rose a little higher then folded his wings and plummeted from the sky, sword glowing white hot with divine power as it split the air. He hit the demon from above with the sound like a small bomb going off, accompanied by a brilliant flash of light.
When the dust settled and everyone's eyes were clear again, they saw Bastin was standing in a small crater, leaning on his sword like it was a cane. In his free hand he held the demon's head at eye level and was staring at it. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth...blood from the demon who's head he held. He dropped the head to the ground, as a child does a toy that he no longer finds amusing.
Albert turned towards the mysterious lady. “Wow, did you see that? Such immense strength, such power.” He looked, but she was no longer there. Where had she gone to? He would worry about this later. For now, there was still the blood soaked being to be concerned with. He had no idea if he was in danger or not. He chose not to draw his weapon, thinking that a sign of open aggressiveness was a sure way to ruin the ability to communicate openly.
He looked towards the demon? angel?, and asked, “What are you?”
Bastin responded in an emotionless voice, "I am that which Heaven forgets and Hell looks upon in wonder. I am...myself."
Albert smiled. ”Thanks for being so vague. Are you going to kill me?”
Bastin laughed, filling the park with the sound. “The question Paladin, is are you going to kill me?”
Albert was taken aback by this response. Here was a being that seemed equal to, if not superior to him, (as far as he was concerned), and he was wondering if Albert was going to kill him? ”Why would I have need of doing that? I would understand what you have done here first, so as to ascertain whether you are friend or foe. Why kill one another when there are many others that we can destroy, possibly together.”
Bastin studied the paladin for a moment, considering what this may mean to him. The possibilities were endless, and the Paladin may prove to be very useful to him, if not as an ally, then perhaps as a meal? ”There is more to this existence beyond the killing of that which is unholy and accursed. There is also penance and punishment for the wrongs we avengers wreak in out attempts at righteousness.” Bastin raised a bloodied hand to his mouth and licked the demon blood off it. “I am an example of failure, Paladin. Learn my lessons if you are wise.”
Albert pondered what lesson was to be acknowledged right now, and just couldn’t see it. "Are you saying that you kill for atonement and for justice?”
“I must kill to survive, such is my punishment….such is my price. Pardon me if I sound maudlin, you’ve caught me in the moonlight.”
”Do you know what became of the lady that was here beside me, the one that saved your life?”
Bastin laughed again, leaving Albert confused as to the source of his mirth. “She did not save my life. She merely spared me a wounding. Few things in this existence can kill me...an Infernal is not one of them. As for the lady...she was never here in the first place. A fair illusion."
"Ah, I see. You are blessed to have such illusions to spare you discomfort then. Perhaps another night would be better to converse? One where your mood and appetite are not so strongly affected?"
Bastin regarded the Paladin with a weary look. "No night is a good time for you to converse with me, Paladin. Seek me in daylight. I live not far from here. Indeed, should you wish, you may return with me to my home and wait for the sun to rise. Your choice."
Albert stood, considering the invitation. There were a lot of questions that remained unasked. He would love to get some answers. But could this being be trusted? He hardly knew him. The only thing that he did know was that there were no signs of open hostility right now. What would happen if Albert fell asleep though?
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2008 12:41 am Post subject: |
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The Decision
12:30 am.
Taking in the sepulchral visage of Bastin, Albert leant heavily upon his sword. Inspecting the features of this winged man he felt that tonight might be the night fate finally guided his steps in the right direction. "So, if it isn't really safe for me to talk with you at night, why should I tempt fate and spend it in your residence?"
"I never said it was not safe. I merely said night is not a good time for conversations. I tend to regress upon myself. Give me a moment if you will." The being seemed to freeze momentarily, his every feature stilled as though he was no longer real but had taken the form of a marble statue. His eyes closed and this was the last trace of movement for a long while.
Patiently Albert waited, he had perfected the art of patience long ago and found himself in a pose long familiar. Turning introspectively inward Albert wondered to himself exactly what it is that Bastin was doing, what he may have been pondering and why.
It was mere moments later that Bastin seemed to come back to life and resumed where he had left off. "Better. I think I can stop speaking archaically now. You'll have to excuse me, I've been around." Bastin smiled ruefully at the Paladin, traces of irony visible in his dark eyes.
"What are you, really? I see a torment flowing within and around you, but I can't understand what you are. Can you at least answer me that before I decide what your intentions are?" Albert found himself faltering in his speech and slipped back into a habit he had long fought to overcome yet found himself embracing once again, hesitancy. "I...I am Albert by the way."
"How do I put this politely Albert?" Bastin put away his sword and sighed. Then with a laugh he spread his arms outwards, rock star style. "Well, no easy way to say it. I'm Bastin, one damned angel seeking redemption for a single mistake. Fucked up or what?"
Albert was rather shocked at this revelation, but gathered his composure quickly. Recounting all that he knew of lore, Albert made the next jump in logic and voiced his conclusions. "That is why you are slaying demons? To buy your atonement? Very well, I think that you would not harm a guardian of the white, not if you wished to retain what payment you have already earned. I shall accompany you to your abode, and I shall wait there for a more convenient time to converse with you. I would offer you my aid, should you accept it."
Bastin laughed, wrapping his black wings around him as one would a cloak. "Now you've got me all wrong Paladin. I'm not killing demons to pay for my sins. I'm killing them because they hate me and because they're the one thing I CAN kill and not feel guilty about." He shrugged gracefully. "Not that I give much of a shit about guilt any more."
Running his hands through his hair Bastin went on. "It's interesting that we end up meeting though. Perhaps the only two with true Faith left in this forsaken hole." He snapped his fingers as a sudden realization hit him. "The woman. Why was she here? I believe I know who she is and if one such as she has true Faith then I might as well hang up my wings now and sink my fangs into something young, innocent, and off limits."
Albert was startled by the sudden switch in subject. What the hell does he mean by that? "I see that there is much for me to understand about you. I know nothing of this woman though. Perhaps you can enlighten me as to who, or what, she is?"
"That woman is the whore of Babylon, the Jezebel of the modern age." He grinned at Albert. "You haven't been in Paradise long have you, my friend?"
Albert shrugged. "Long enough, but I don't really spend much time in the company of the mortals that abide in all this filth and evil. A harlot? How do you think she fits in with any of this?"
Bastin ran his hands through his hair again. "Shit, damned if I know. Well...poor choice of words. Still...knowing Taraneh Paravenah...it could be anything. That woman has her finger in more pies than some of the Master vamps I know...and they've been at it for centuries, Paladin."
Albert grew more confused than ever, pondering how this chance meeting with a damned angel and a mysterious woman had anything to do with his life, his quest. "I need to find out more about how we all fit together, Bastin. Is this Divine intervention that brings us together or simply a chance meeting? What do you think of the matter?"
Bastin stifled a snort. "I can tell you for certain it's not Divine Intervention...well not on my part. I cannot say for you two, perhaps you were guided to meet me. But the only thing that lead me here was weakness. I needed a fix tonight and some information. I've got the information and I'll get the fix when I get home. Neither of which are actually helpful but..."
Bastin grinned again and suppressed a chuckle. "Wait a moment...it might just be Himself. I've just realized something. Do you have any paper?"
Albert searched through his trench coat, finally finding a slip of paper. He handed it over to Bastin curiously. "Here you go."
Taking it, Bastin dipped a sharp nail in some of the still tacky blood and began to laboriously write down an address. He handed the paper to Albert with a smile. "That is the address of the Honeypot. You'll find your mystery woman there. I suggest you ask for her by name and whatever you do...don't mention me."
Albert looked at the address. It appeared to be of a house in the Uppercrust parts of Paradise. Assuming from what Bastin has says that it harbors harlots that deal in sins of the flesh, he found himself strangely reluctant to comply with the request of his new acquaintance. "Okay, well, I hope that God understands why I am doing this. I guess that I shall head there now. Won't she know that I talked with you though? She was here, she spoke to us both. What does she have against you?"
Again Bastin rolled his wings in a shrug of sorts. "She's got nothing against me...that I know of. Then again I may have upset dealings of hers in the past. I don't do mortal crossover well. However, Tara likes power and I'm certainly not inclined to give her any over me...if you realize what I'm saying." With that he stepped back and spread his wings.
"Oh...and Albert...If this is Divine Intervention God will understand." Bastin suddenly smiled wickedly. "If it's not...welcome to failure." With that he gave a pound of his wings and vanished into the inky depths of the night sky.
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Albert watched Bastin fly off into the darkness of the night sky. He understood a bit more, and he was thankful for the cryptic warning that Bastin gave him. He would be sure to come up with an alias as he wandered towards Tara's home. A guardian he might be, but he was still weak to those that would try to use him for ill. He realized that he must use caution when dealing with this woman.
Albert smiled to himself as he thought over Bastin's last words. If God would forgive him for entering the house, what else might he be forgiven for, if it furthered his cause? He bit his lip, and thought of his parents, remembering the vows that he had made, and why he had made them. He would not fail their memory now, not when he stood to gain so much at last.
------------------
As Bastin landed outside his home he glanced back over his shoulder toward the park and sighed. "I'm going to hate myself for letting him go alone in the morning...yet why do I feel the urge to bring popcorn and watch?"
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Thu Jan 24, 2008 12:43 am Post subject: |
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The Meeting
0300 am
Tara came back to herself to find the Senator had pressed his advantage. She tried to disentangle herself from his arms, yet the usual protestations that normally dissuaded the man no longer seemed to work. His grip on her tightened further and he ground against her, pushing her into the wall behind.
Tara suddenly realised, in a flash of fear that this time he wouldn’t stop no matter what she did. Tara struggled against him, raking him across the face with her nails as he reached up to grab her sleeve. He tore the flimsy material of her dress and exposed the long lean stretch of skin from her right shoulder to her waist. He struggled to undo his zipper while holding her still and it was as he lent backwards to do so that Tara caught sight of his eyes.
The pupils had become extremely dilated and she could no longer see any colour in them other than black. His teeth began to elongate and she felt the bile of terror rise. He leant over her, menace in every aspect of his demeanour and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to stifle the cries that threatened to spill over her lips.
A rustling breeze and the smell of tobacco heralded the arrival of relief. Dragon landed softly behind the couple, champagne in hand and felt a growl rise in the back of his throat at the sight that met his eyes. Damn her, he thought, she knows what games she plays yet she continues despite my warnings! Throwing the glasses of champagne aside he advanced, silently stalking towards his victim.
Tara felt a release of pressure and opened her eyes to find Dragon peering down at her, a look of anger in his eyes, the Senator held before him in one hand, treated with as much disdain as an eagle shows to a mouse.
Scrabbling to her feet Tara regained her composure and attempted to look Dragon in the eyes. She felt herself shying away from meeting their steely gaze and looked instead at the Senator.
The clean-cut good ol’ boy from Minnesota had turned into a ravening beast, claws protruding from his hands and his countenance resembling that of one from Hell. She struggled to figure out what had happened here while she had been ‘gone’. A scathing British voice cut through her reverie.
‘Where did you find this one, in The Rot? Can’t you keep those pretty little knees together long enough to use your brain?’
‘How dare you! Its, I... Dragon, I was... ‘ The angry words faltered on her lips as her thoughts travelled back to the encounter in the Park.
‘I.. He.. Nothing you can say will prove to me that you are nothing more than a whore with bad judgement! You know better than to let yourself fall prey to one such as this!’ The anger of Dragons words was reflected in the shaking that he was giving, what had been, the Senator. ‘Do you even know when this happened or weren’t you paying attention?’
Dragons ire was fanned by the very fact that he himself had checked the politician out after his first visit to the Honeypot and had declared him ‘safe’, somehow in the interim the stupid man had gotten himself infected.
‘Have you nothing to say? What if I hadn’t come in time?’
‘You always come in time....’ Tara murmured under her breath. ‘Projecting, Dragon, I was projecting again.’
She wandered to a bench and sat, the dimly lit courtyard fading away from her eyes. The figures in the shadows, one dark haired and the other light, the monstrosity that had been attacking, or was it retreating?
‘Lets get you upstairs.’ Dragon disposed of the vampire deftly, its flesh melting into nothingness and the residue blowing away on the wind. Taking Tara by the arm, in a move more angry parent than Personal Assistant, he helped her inside and upstairs to her suites.
Almost throwing her onto the settee he stormed through her rooms like a thundercloud, slamming shut windows and drawing curtains.
‘So often I have told you the perils that lurk out there, all this time and still you cannot help but put yourself in danger! Projecting or not – I don’t care, if you want to finish the task you have been set we cannot afford distractions. You are no longer an empty headed Girl Taraneh, use the little wisdom you have and get some perspective!’
Dragons’ words sliced through Tara like a knife and she bit her lip. Her cool facade slid back into place and she began to take charge, annoyed at his presumptions.
‘You dare to speak to me like I am yours to command? You forget yourself Dragon, never speak to me in such a way again or you shall see yourself gone!’
Dragon fell back into the pattern long established between them and his whole posture changed from warrior to sheepish jokester.
‘What exactly did you see, Tara? It might help if you tell me and we can figure out what this means?’
Tara quickly recounted her projection to Dragon and he settled into his chair, his fedora spinning lazily around on his finger, as he asked her questions and had her go over parts of the tale again and again. Tara almost became dizzy with it all and at eventually threw her hands up in disgust.
‘Enough Dragon, enough! Anything to be had from it has been had already! I am tired and it is late, I want nothing more than to sleep. Rest is for the wicked – so why do I get none?’ Dragon took his cue from her, quickly flipping out a cigar and lighting it up as she began to prepare herself for bed.
A knocking on the door disturbed them soon after. Tara was in the middle of her ablutions and she quickly slipped into her silk robe (comfort at any cost was her mantra). On her words of permission one of the Bees slipped in and announced that a gentleman had come calling. Dragon stalked away muttering obscenities under his breath, momentarily losing his preferred accent and falling back into a language long dead.
Gathering her thoughts quickly she knew that there was only two people this could be and hoped it wasn’t one in particular. Tara was glad to see that it wasn’t the dark fellow but was still unsettled by the appearance of the other one anyway. There was something that she couldn’t quite place about him.
He possessed an indefinable quality, an air of restlessness and the look about the eyes of being rather jaded, this was the thing that struck her first. Later she noticed the shock of white hair that tumbled down his back unbound in straight lines, to fall at his waist and the strong spread of his shoulders.
‘I am fixing a pot of tea, would you care for some? It is finest Maldovian and very delicious.’
Albert looked up from the seat he had been shown to and once again looked upon the beauty from the park.
‘Tea would be pleasant, thank you.’
Sighing Tara turned and passed him a teacup, it had a delicate rose pattern and screamed expensive - yet she loved the way the tiny little petals gently unfolded much more than the fact it cost more than most people earned in a year. Regaining control of a mood that had suddenly turned whimsical for no apparent reason, Tara abruptly switched demeanour and topic.
'What do you want from Me?'
Albert saw such a startling change in the womans aura that he took a seond glance at her. So pale and barely perceptible, it shimmered slightly, the pulsing had flashed of peace and then anger, as if she were unable to decide if she were going to attack or befriend him. Albert recalled the words of Bastin, could he trust her with his name?
"My name is Anthony, Anthony Poe. It is a pleasure to meet you and you are?" He switched the tea to his left hand and extended his right, in a gentlemanly manner.
'Do you think me a fool, Sir?'
Tara sat herself down in a chair and as if by magic Dragon appeared behind her, scowling menacingly at Albert, seemingly appraising his status as a threat. Albert was taken aback by the obvious hostility of the man before him.
.
'It is obvious you come here knowing full well my name, for how else would you have found me?'
Dragon laughed sardonically, seeming to take his cue from his mistress’s words and left to settle against the mantle.
"Okay, well, you see, ma'am, I spoke with you earlier tonight, and it is of this meeting that I wished to speak. Another saw you too, and it was from him that I learnt your name and residence. You will forgive me for allowing you the courtesy of revealing your own name, Taraneh Paravenah?" Perhaps I have been foolish, coming here? Albert thought.
'It is not mine to forgive you Anthony, it is plain to me that you first need to forgive yourself.’ Some inate part of Tara couldn’t help but react to the self-depreciating attitude of the gentlemen seated before her.
"I am sure that I know not of what you mean, Lady Paravenah. I see no reason for a lack of civility between you and I, in what manner have I offended you?"
Albert was growing more and more uneasy. Was this woman always so prepared to lash out at others? He was uncomfortable with all the deceptions that he had to employ and surely if they continued, he would find a hole within this tangled web that he weaved and fall through. What worried him most were the consequences.
"Do you remember being in the park earlier this evening, for but a few minutes?"
'Of course I do, I am not addle Brained! It is of this that you wish to speak, you are wondering why I was there of course.'
"Yes. Do you know why you were there?"
Dragon leaned over the back of her chair and whispered into her ear in full view of the Paladin.
'His name is McClellan, Albert McClellan. Mid thirties, parents killed when mother refused to bear demon spawn - was just 13 himself, swore vengenance and was blessed with divine gifts.. Make of it what you will, Taraneh.'
Tara took a sip from her teacup and perused the man in front of her. Taking her time, she eventually lowered the cup and smiled gently at him. Thousands of words lay unspoken on her lips, her thoughts rushed at the speed of light and she sought her next words. It was Dragon who said it for her, his British accent sending the words out in a beautifully mocking tone towards the Paladin.
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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NeverNeverGirl
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| Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 2:50 am Post subject: |
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The Damned and the Harlot
"Albert, such a common name. I would go by something else also were I called such. What do you want here? Tara and I grow weary. No more bullshit! Speak more lies, and you may as well leave now having said naught." Tara glanced appreciatively at Dragon, then returned her icy eyes to Albert.
"I have been honest with all, except my name. Honestly, what is in a name? If fate did not draw us together for some reason, placing us in the park at the same time, then does it truly matter what I am called? For in that case, we should never meet again, and my name would mean nothing to you as your memory of me faded. Forgive me for being guarded with my true identity." Albert wondered what response, and from whom, his words would bring forth.
Tara spoke, to Albert's great relief, but his small glimpse of hope was shattered at her words. "Paladin, I am tired. I do not have the desire to entertain more liars this evening. Good night to you." Barely had the words escaped her lips before she was standing, her tea put aside as so many forgotten lovers. She carried herself with grace to her sleeping chambers. Dragon smiled at him. "I believe that you can find your own way out, yes?"
Albert stood. He was confused at the treatment that he had received, yet, he believed that he understood one thing: It was chance that they had met, and nothing good would come from it. He sighed, hoping that nothing ill was waiting for him. She was very attractive, whatever else she may have been. He would hate to have to kill her and Dragon for such a triviality as his name.
Tara waited several minutes after Albert departed before nodding to her PA. "Dragon, follow him, see what you can learn of him. Perhaps we shall meet again, for I almost feel that we are not through with him. Perhaps God has finally given me a chance at redemption, through this paladin, Albert." Dragon bowed to her. "As you wish, Tara, but don't hope that God is through with you just yet." He turned and walked out after his prey.
As the door shut behind Dragon Tara let out a sigh. Taking a deep draught from her tea cup she slipped out of the patio doors and wandered onto the balcony. The air, while murky and heavy with the pollutions of the city in most other areas, was here light and sweetened with the perfumes drifting up from her gardens below.
Standing there Tara looked out over the vista of lights before her, the city resembled nothing so much as a fairy world from up here yet she knew the relaity was very far from that.
As she began to ponder the recent events and the meeting with the Paladin, Tara suddenly smelt something that reminded her of nothing so much as the cinema. A feeling of being observed swept over her and the hairs on her neck rose with a shiver.
Turning Tara could make out the silhouette of Dragon lingering under the branches of a tree overhanging the balcony. Walking forwards she spoke to him, her voice low and puzzled. "Dragon, why are you lurking in the shadows like that?"
"Hum, I've never been accused of lurking before. Sneaking yes and brooding. Oh most definetely brooding. But not lurking." Tossing his empty popcorn bag away, Bastin stepped out of the shadows with a smirk on his face causing Tara to step back towards the railing, an involuntary defensive action.
"You. Who are you? Why are you here?" Her eyes gleamed as she studied him.
"I am that which heaven forgets and hell looks upon in wonder. I am...myself. And as for what I am doing here tonight. I sent a dove in to the lair of the spider speaking false words. Now the spider smiles in fury and a dragon tails the dove. I supposed I could pay my respects to the queen harlot before night ends." His wings flicked a bit in the night and he noticed Tara following them with her eyes for a moment before they returned to his face.
A sardonic smile pasted itself on the womans fair visage. "Oh is he your puppet? How sweet. Can you make him dance too?" Her words dripped honeyed sarcasm, ruby lips never loosing their smile. She was goading him but it was too near dawn for Bastin to be drawn by such plays.
"I would not call a paladin a puppet and, unlike you, I pull no strings and make none dance. I dance to music played for my ears alone." He cocked his head to the side as if to emphasize the point, the soft night breeze playing with his crimson locks. His wings wrapped tight to his body as he stood with folded arms across from Tara.
She brushed past him and entered her home, and he caught her glancing back at him as he moved to lean nonchalantly against the railing, arms still folded. Then, without another thought to his presence, she began to disrobe, another set of clothing laying draped over a chair and awaiting her body to fill them. "I always preferred to climb trees," she said so softly only his unnatural senses could have heard her. "dancing never quite did it for me."
Bastin extended his wings and folded them again, trying to banish the restless feeling that was building in them. Dawn was nearing, but not so close he had to dash off yet. He extended them again and stared at them. "Climbing lacks appeal I'm afraid. I suppose I'm quite jaded to my usual means of locomotion," he folded his wings with a snap. "Walking." He finished with a half laugh. He turned his eyes toward the twilight heavens, averting them from Tara's nearly nude form. "And please...lust was never my sin. Keep your wiles to yourself woman."
Tara looked sharply up at Bastin, profiled in the last starlight, then back down at the clothing she was gathering to put on. "Seduction was the last thing on my mind," she said with a soft laugh.
Suddenly he was standing there gazing at the obvious oppulance of her room. The grandiose, but tasteful, decor and furnishings that screamed comfort and luxury. It was easy to see from the tight lines of his face that he didn't approve of the expense shown. "Lucky me then," he said returning his midnight blue gaze to her. "I've had my fill of such pettiness for one night. Indeed you're almost refreshing in your refraining. But then I smell vamp on you." His look turned dangerous as he hissed his words at her. "How many have you courted this evening?"
Not waiting for her response and unable to stand the excesses of her chambers any longer, he returned to the balcony and sat on the rail, one leg stretched out infront of him, the other bent so he could rest an arm on his knee. "Do you so lust for power that you would stoop to the Embrace? The kiss of the demon mother and her damned lover?"
"Death came courting me tonight. Ashes are all that remain." Tara replied in a low but firm voice. Sitting down at her vanity, she picked up a silver backed brush and arranged her hair into a loose ponytail. Then she took a soft cloth and removed all of her 'warpaint', leaving not a trace of makeup on her features. "I desire no power a demon kiss would grant," she told her reflection. "What of your own desires?"
With his hair flung forward to hide much of his face, Bastin lifted a long finger to gently touch one of the fangs that were slightly extended within his mouth, a grim smile revealing the little pleasure he took from the action. "I was a rather unwilling party to my own Turning. All I desire is to regain that which I've lost." His smile faded as his hand fell away from a face he upturned towards the sky, gauging the dwindling time left before dawn.
Tara rose from her vanity and slowly walked out on the balcony until she was standing next to him. "With all the vampyer attacks lately it's hard to imagine my life without struggle. All I wanted has been lost as well...but to Time."
Her words caused Bastin to gaze at her sharply, his words slow and deliberate. "Time is something I understand well. I seem to have more than I ever wanted now that all I possess is empty of joy." Suddenly he leaned toward Tara and inhaled deeply, savoring the bloodscent that still clung to her. "Interesting. That's a rather rare bloodline who's scent still clings to you. Where might you have come by a set of those fangs?"
Tara shivered slightly, a human reaction to something so inhuman being too close for comfort. "Somewhere between Dinner and Dessert, a Senator I was entertaining 'changed'. Lucky for me Dragon showed up when he did." She laughed loudly. "Risk is something I don't normally indulge in without prior knowledge. Crystal chandeliers, expensive champagne, and blood sucking monsters...it was certainly a night to remember."
Bastin didn't so much as flinch when Tara emphasized the words 'blood sucking monsters' even though he knew there was implied insult to him. Instead he leaned even closer, so close he was almost touching the top of her head, and with closed eyes to focus his senses better he inhaled deeply again. The scent invaded his nostrils and he knew he could not be uncertain of it's origins, uncertain of the bloodline. His fangs dropped to their full, lethal length as a sudden killing rage overtook him. Luckily though dawn was too near for it to last long, just long enough for him to hiss through his fangs. "The bastard."
Faster than the eye could follow, Bastin was on his feet and staring down at a suddenly fragile seeming Tara. A bit of a mocking smile played on his face as he spoke down to her. "I feel sorry for you. The last time my foe moved this openly in the world, I became what I am. What hope have you?" He suddenly swept into a bow remniscent of ages long past, courtly and elegant with his wings sweeping grandly a low laugh betraying the fact he was not paying her any deference. "I must take my leave of you now," he said straightening. "The sky has turned the color of raw meat and I must away before something truely dreadful happens."
He turned to the sky, then turned back and locked eyes with Tara. Not to mesmerize or ensorcel or bespell, but simply to drive his point home. "I caution you to stay well away from the nighttime shadows. And call off your pet. The paladin is mine for now."
"Dragon is no pet," Tara spat vehemently back at him. "Best you mark that Fangboy, he's under no orders of mine." With that she turned and gracefully walked back into her rooms, the door shutting with a soft click behind her. As if a simple lock could keep Bastin out.
Looking at the french doors he couldn't help but chuckle. His voice, however, was all buisness and cold as granite. "Call me Fangboy again and I'll do something that will make my better half disown me." And with that final statement he took to the skies like a streak of black. A single ebony feather remained behind, resting on the balcony...a bleak reminder...
------------------------------
Bastin only barely made it back to the sanctity of his home, not twenty minutes before the sun rose. Already he was in agoney as the brilliant tendrils of the first light touched his pale flesh. Slamming open the doors, he sent them slamming shut behind him with a gust of wind from his wings, staggering deeper into the renovated church that served as his home on Earth.
He didn't get very far before brilliant light poured through the stained glass windows, a single spotlight of it coming through the east-facing circular window above the doors and illuminating him fully. He gritted his teeth as his 'better half pushed forward' a breif moment shared between the two halves of the same being. For a moment, Bastin felt the utter disgust and loathing he held for himself, shoving arrogance and equal distaste back.
As his split soul battered itself, his body underwent changes, from shadow to sun dwelling. The ebony color of his wings slowly drained away, like ink from a bottle, to be replaced by a buff creme threaded with tawny gold. His marble pale skin became an even golden tan, the tan of a man who was forever standing in sunlight. His hair, the color of fresh blood, turned the color of a wheat field with a kiss of strawberry roan to draw the eye. And the final transformation, as the stain on his soul retreated to the depths, his eyes went from midnight to midday. Blue murder to sky blue.
Slowly, this new Sebastine forced himself to stand fully in the light of the new day, limbs shaking slightly as he bowed his head before his god, cross glimmering with a brilliant light. "I give thanks that I might see another sunrise. I repent what dark deeds I have done and will do yet again when night falls. And I seek your guidance for the day."
Before the words had fully left his mouth, he felt something press against the barriers the marked the edge of the sacred ground that had been given to his keeping. His blue eyes glittered and he retrived his sword. "Thy will be done." And Seb went forward into the dawn to face battle.
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NeverNeverGirl
Honored Citizen
Joined: 18 Jun 2007
Topics: 68
Posts: 1216
Location: dreaming away of tomorrows to come
Items
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| Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 2:52 am Post subject: |
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Unholy Revelations
Seb blinked his eyes in the early morning sun as the sounds of clashing steel greeted his ears. There, fighting between the gateposts, was the young paladin, blade flashing in the dawn. Opposite him was a creature garbed in black, something that was once a man but no longer could be called such. The ruddy blade it wielded wavered each time the paladin's blessed weapon impacted upon it but managed to hold firm, twisting only slightly in it's master's grip. Seb was impressed by the paladin's technique, a blend of old and new world styles that was surprisingly effective given the man's hampered space.
Sweat rolled down his brow, his white hair sticking to forehead and temples as his eyes blazed in concentration. His injuries were slight, too minor to do more than barely note, while his foe was streaming dark maroon. The sight sickened Seb, who took a step forward from his doorway. His keen eyes picked out the tremor in the paladin's muscles, the slight slowing of his blows. He was exhausted. If he didn't defeat his foe soon, sheer lack of energy would do him in. It was time to end this.
Seb gently struck his blade against the flagstones of the path, a pure sweet note ringing in the morning air and drawing the eyes of the combatants. He raised the blade slowly as the combat stopped and he held their full attention. Deliberately he pointed it at Albert and smiled. "You are welcome." His smile faded as the blade swung toward the dark one, his voice hard and cold. "You are not. Leave now."
For a moment the dark one paused then, as if realizing it had failed, it turned and bolted into the fading shadows. The paladin sheathed his blade, nodding thanks as he sagged against the gate post. Walking up, Seb lent him a shoulder. "He was draining your energy, I'm surprised you're on your feet. Come, you can rest here for the day."
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Bastin grinned ruthlessly as he held the paladin aloft. Obviously Albert wasn't too keen on flying but it was the swiftest way to reach the Honeypot...and the one least likely to announce their arrival to the world. It was a strain, flying wasn't his strong suit at night, but it wasn't beyond him. Sighting the balcony from the night before, he swooped down and aimed to land them both on it. Then the sounds of conflict reached his keen ears, causing him to pause and hover. "It seems we are not the first visitors...the harlot seems beset by an unwelcome suitor."
Diving down he dropped Albert onto the stone, the paladin landing on his feet and drawing his blade smoothly. Bastin followed suit, folding his wings tightly. They both peered into the room to see Tara dodging and ducking around the shambles of her fine furnishings, hurling whatever came into reach at another of those darkened servants such as Albert had faced that morning. "Well...shall we?" Bastin asked with a raised eyebrow, knowing the paladin would insist on action.
They burst into the room at the same moment, silent and grim as the dim lights of the room danced on the edges of their swords. For a moment action froze as the balance of power shifted. Tara held a single Desiel heeled boot in her hand, poised to throw as a flash of fear went through her eyes. Her assailant’s lips peeled back over slightly pointed teeth in a silent snarl, the courage the action gave him dying when Bastin's own grim smile displayed fangs more than an inch long.
Albert suddenly went into action, his blade lunging forward while Bastin sprang upward to cut from above. The boot Tara expertly hurled drove it's spike-like heel into the cheek of the attacker as he dodged Albert's blow and parried Bastin's. For a moment the three of them traded blows while objects continued to rain down upon them whenever Tara found something else she could throw with any effect. It was a stalemate, maneuverability favoring the lone attacker who didn't have to coordinate his attacks on the fly. He adopted Tara's earlier strategy of avoid, evade, and used his weapon to block the few blows that did manage to near his body.
He was slowly working his way to the door when a roar from the entrance announced the arrival of Dragon. The distraction he provided made the assailant hesitate for a split second, a second that cost him his life as Bastin and Albert both sent powerful blows his direction. Albert's split him from crotch to shoulder while Bastin's struck off his head, sending a spray of blood across the wall. As the body slumped to the ground, Dragon moved to stand before Tara protectively.
The three men stared at each other, none of them keen on the idea of being the first to lower their blade...
Albert spoke to Tara awkwardly, "Ummm, hello again Tara. Please forgive me for my earlier deception. I was given...poor advice." Albert looked to Bastin with a gleam of malice in his eyes.
Bastin raised his hand. "That was my bad. What did you expect? I'm damned for heaven's sake! So sue me paladin. "
'Deception? That implies a chance that you wouldn't be found out. The moment you breathed near Dragon he knew your darkest thoughts.' Tara spoke to Albert in her "I'm so much better than you" voice, making him feel slightly ashamed, and angry.
"Well, okay, I wasn't aware that HE would be here. I don't anything about any of you." Albert was about to continue, but Bastin cut him off.
Bastin arches eyebrow and grinned nastily. "Hmmm...really? Pretty boy knows all MY darkest thoughts too?"
'You are, perhaps, the exception Fangboy.' Tara replied to Bastin's query.
With a hiss Bastin raised his blade, then thought of a better retort. "Care to take them for a spin? I'll make an exception after tonight..."
Dragon grinned from behind Tara's shoulder... 'She may just like it..'
"No doubt Dragon. No doubt..." Bastin replied back.
"This isn't getting us anywhere, Dragon, Bastin. I see a lot of coincidences, like all three of us dealing with demon attacks within the last day, and I would like some help in understanding why US." Albert was looking from Bastin to Dragon to Tara and back to Bastin. He wondered if this was all just coincidence or if there was a meaning.
"I never help matters...damn it I should have brought the popcorn again!" Bastin looked around the wreck of an apartment, before taking a seat and putting his feet up.
"What do you mean, should have brought popcorn again? What, did you watch the little fiasco that you initiated last night?" Albert looked at the smug smile on Bastin's face, then towards the heavens, muttering heavily under his breath.
'When she puts on a show, Tara makes it worth watching.' Dragon moved out of range of Tara's hand, nimbly stepping away.
Bastin snickered at Albert. "Temper, temper paladin. And I've seen better Dragon."
"Anyways, Tara, I am deeply apologetic for attempting to lie to you this morning. Can we start anew?" Albert recognized that if he continued to address Bastin or Dragon things were never going to go anywhere. He had to get someone thinking in this group.
'Its okay', Tara sighed. It had been a long night and she was over it. 'What exactly is going on here?'
Bastin laughed, causing everyone to turn to look at him. "What? Why are you all staring at me?"
'You have popcorn in your teeth...' Dragon chuckled at his own joke.
Bastin idly picked at a fang, pulling clear a long bone shard. "Whoopsie. I guess I bit deeper than I thought. My bad...again. As for what is going on here...give me a moment." Bastin stood and inhaled deeply. Then wandered over to the body and knelt beside it. After another sniff, he lapped some of the blood from the cooling corpse. Hissing through extended fangs, he stood swiftly and stalked back to Tara. "Hold still."
Dragon made a purely instinctual step in front of Tara. He had drawn his sword with a fluid grace before she had even registered Bastin's comment. "Move Dragon unless you can tell me why that man's blood sings of silver." Bastin pulled his own blade, his eyes pits of murderous blue. "I won't harm her...it's not in my best interests."
'Burns silver?' Tara stepped sideways past Dragon. Their moves had begun to resemble a hypnotic rhythm of dance... 'Do you mean...'
Before a reaction can be made, Bastin's tongue touches Tara's throat, tracing her jugular. He steps back quickly, shaking his head. "Lucky us...no marks." He sheathed his sword and returned to stand over the body. "Keep her away from me Paladin. I've got to think."
"What, you expect her to attack you or something?" Albert stepped between Tara and Bastin, wondering what was going to happen next.
Bastin shook his head again, like a man beset by flies. "No...she's of no danger to me...the reverse does not apply. Her blood...it calls." He moved further away, a hand moving up to his cross which had begun to glow. "He wants you so very badly...you are in grave danger."
Tara had thrown her hand to her throat at Bastin's silken caress. She stepped toward him as he moved away, her other hand attempting to shove Albert out of her path.
"So many years I have tracked him...to find him drawn out by you is unthinkable. Yet it also makes perfect sense." Bastin turned to face the group, only to find Albert's efforts at keeping Tara at bay had failed, for Tara stood face to face with him. "Get back woman!"
'I tire of this game Fang, give me your kiss and end it now..' Tara tilted her neck gracefully to the side as she tempted and goaded Bastin.
"Cain...her blood is...NO! I will not be damned doubly!" Bastin closed his eyes as Tara put her hand to his chest. The two stood still as statues, locked together by Tara's touch. They stood mesmerized, their eyes locked, Bastin's body tense, Tara's as still as the surrounding night. Albert and Dragon stood silently, watching the two, both wondering what they should do, if anything, but remaining inactive. [I] What the hell is wrong with them? What is going to happen? What should I do? [I] Albert was used to seeing demons, killing them, and then not thinking of anything else but finding his next victim. Everything that had been happening was more than he was used to dealing with. It wasn't as if he had ever spoken to God. He had merely gotten God's blessing, and a weapon that was equally blessed. This was outside his realm of understanding.
Albert decided that something must be done, so he stepped forward towards the two. Just as he got within arms reach, Bastin's arm struck out with preternatural speed, striking Albert hard in the chest. He then grasped Tara by the hair, pulling her head back to better expose her neck, bringing her slowly towards his sharp fangs. Drawn by the link between them, the unknown bond of a hereditary line or something more powerful, Tara reached forward and stroked Bastin's face, causing him to lose his grip on her throat.
'Well is the love-fest over or what?' Dragon grabbed the Paladin by the arm and pulled him to his feet. 'What the hell just happened here?'
"You were there watching it with me, why don't you tell me?" Albert took a breath, pain shooting through his sternum, which he feared was cracked. "Stupid vamp can't control his actions when he is entranced."
Bastin's cross grew ever brighter as he muttered something low. "Who's entranced boy? You have no idea what I'm doing...and trying not to do..."
A figure emerged from the shadows, hands clapping in sardonic applause, a smug smile on his face. 'And the lovers kissed and they lived happily freaking after...' His smarmy accent caused the group to turn towards the figure... Bastin's words cut through the silence.
"You'd like me to love her, or even lust after her. But lust was never my sin..." A smile warped Bastin's lips as he addressed the newcomer. "Tell your master I'm waiting. He can quit hiding whenever he likes. Or did you not think I could smell Him on you?"
Dragon was at the messengers side in a flash, sword drawn and at his throat. 'Demon scum, think we are afraid of your kind?'
'Whatever, like I care. I have a message for you....' The demon glanced at all assembled, never considering the blade that bit into his flesh as he did so. His eyes came to rest on Bastin last. 'It has come to be that she is She, and all that await her shall rise again...'
"No..." The word is soft and torn from Bastin as he looked from Tara to the messenger and back.
"Screw all this," Albert said as he pulled his blade, slicing off the demons head, sparks shooting out from between his and Dragons immobile weapon. "What the hell was that supposed to mean? Bastin, Bastin! When are we going to get some bloody answers, seeing as how you seem to have some clue as to what is going on here!"
Before anyone could guess what was about to happen, Bastin caught hold of Tara and sunk his fangs in deep, then pulled back, changed his angle and bit again. The result was four puncture wounds in the shape of a cross. "I'd rather be damned than see it again..."
Dragon and Albert flew at Bastin, tackling him and wresting Tara from his grip. Bastin stood like a man beaten, a single tear rolling from his eye, but his cross was still in place...and his flesh did not burn.
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Tara lay on the ground unconscious. Albert squatted behind her, running his fingers over the wounds that Bastin had inflicted. He looked towards Bastin, who was being restrained by Dragon, though without much effort. There seemed to be no fight in Bastin, who just hung limply in the not so gentle grasp of Dragon. Bastin didn't even look up as Albert spoke to him. "What the hell did you just do?"
Bastin spoke quietly, in a voice barely audible to those near him, "I marked her."
"You better not have bloodsucker!" Anger welled up in Dragon's voice, his grip on Bastin's shoulder’s increasing in pressure.
Albert checked Tara's rapidly failing pulse. In reaction to Albert's motion, Bastin spoke again. "She won't have one much longer unless I am allowed to close the wound."
"You will do no such thing! You will stay away from her! You understand me?" Dragon turned his head in Albert's direction. "Do something paladin."
Albert shook his head sadly. "This is beyond my abilities, Dragon. How do we know that you won't do something stupid again, Bastin? How can you expect us to trust you after what you just did?"
"You don't know, that is the risk of trusting someone." Bastin spoke a little more loudly, "And what I did was not stupid, it was the only thing that I could do. You don't have time to waste. She'll die without my intervention."
Dragon released Bastin, defeated. "Help her, you're her only hope." Bastin fell to the floor as Dragon stepped away.
Albert pulled his sword, grimacing with pain as the weight of it tugged at his broken ribs. "Know this, Bastin. You harm her any further, and I will make sure that your head and body part ways."
Bastin's laughter trickled out to the room’s occupants as he looked at Albert. "Paladin, in this condition I am of very little danger. Hold her still if you must feel useful. You're threat is wasted however. Though death would truly be a blessing, this is not the hour, nor are you the means, for my departure from this plane."
Albert laid his sword close at hand, then cradled Tara's head within both his hands. With great effort, Bastin rose and approached Tara's body. Dragon slouched against the wall as he watched, defeated. Every step that brought Bastin nearer to Tara seemed to drag him lower, until finally he stood stooped over her still form. He slowly dropped to one knee, his head moving towards Tara's neck. With two quick swipes of his tongue the wounds were closed. He moved away from her, each step slow and deliberate, as if it pained him to move from her side. He collapsed in the nearest chair, looking exhausted.
Albert moved one hand to gently place Tara's hair over her neck, hiding the already healing wounds. He looked at her peaceful face, then turned on Bastin. "Now, what is going on? Why have you done this to her?"
Bastin smirked at Albert. "I already told you, I marked her. It's for her protection, really."
Albert said nothing, his gaze not leaving Bastin's. "I don't understand why you have done this. Can you please elaborate and cease being vague?"
Bastin sighed, “A mark is not something that is done lightly. It is like a vampiric 'no trespassing' sign. If anyone should try to bite her, they are going to get a nasty psychic shock. The shape of the mark will add it's own pain too."
"Fine, but what possessed you to find this necessary?"
"Because, Cain was sending his minions. To break that mark, he'll have to come himself. I doubt that there is yet another alive that would be capable of doing it." Bastin raised his hands in an empty gesture. "What else could I have done? You allowed her to get near me! The only other option I had was to let us all be damned and give her what she wanted."
"And what did Tara want from you? From all that I have seen, she doesn't seem to like you that much." Albert looked at Tara again, who had not stirred or shown any sign of being okay. Dragon however, pulled himself out of his slump and stated matter of factly, "The blood has outted.”
"Indeed, Dragon it has. It wasn't what Tara wanted, it was what Lilith wanted. She cares for me far more than I care for her." Bastin moved his gaze towards Dragon, who had begun to approach Tara.
"There is a legacy, paladin," spoke Dragon, "that few know of."
"Yes, I wish that I knew nothing of it," replied Bastin, his hands moving to hold his head.
"Tara is of the line of Lilith," began Dragon. "She who was the first wife of Adam, the scion of damnation, the original seductress. I have guarded the line for an eon on the orders of my Master. I was charged with killing the first in whom the blood rises. I have slain no one yet."
Bastin's eyebrows perked in interest. "Sammael still has a stake in this then?"
"Indeed he does, Fangs."
Bastin hissed through his teeth. Call me Fangs again and I swear that I'll go feral on you, Dragon. I'm in no mood or condition for insults."
"I protected her for so long, and this long toothed bastard.." Dragon's words were cut off as Bastin laughed, his eyes traveling from Tara to Dragon.
"Oh, isn't that just rich! Welcome to the club Dragon, yet another pawn in her game!" Bastin continued chuckling, tears coming to his eyes from his laughter.
"So, you have to kill her? Why did you plead for Bastin to save her then?" Albert looked at Dragon, the sight of Bastin laughing making him ill at ease.
"Do not question me, paladin! You know not to who you speak!" With rapid grace, Dragon bent low, scooping Tara off the ground. He turned away from Bastin and Albert and began to carry Tara to her private chambers.
"You better go with them, paladin. I'm not fit company right now."
Bastin waited until they were gone and no sign of their return was given. Then, mustering the last of his fading strength, he rose from the chair. Turning wearily towards the french doors, he made it only to the balcony before sinking to his knees.Turning a face stained with tears of blood to the sky, he asked a single question. In that single question, that single word, was contained the world of his pain. "Why?" As he waited, defeated in the darkness, wings spread behind him like a torn cape, no answer was forthcoming. The damned were not to know the will of God.
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