Enjoy the Silence

[Emma]

Children were pathetic things to look at in the first place, but this one was the worst.

She couldn’t be more than four years old, an age when most children shrieked like banshees and ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. But for the past long while, so long I couldn’t even remember when I’d first seen her, she’d simply sat in the corner of a dismal little room, furnished only with two chairs and a mirror. She had raven hair not unlike my own, but done up in silly tight curls that barely reached her chin. Her absurdly chubby face was grubby and dirty, as were her hands, which curiously were scratched as well. But most laughable of all was the dress she wore, if it was even worthy of being called that- a frilly pink abomination, bell-shaped with lacy sleeves and more the kind of thing a doll would wear than a human being. Oddly enough, she seemed to despise the dress just as much as I did, staring down at herself with an uncharacteristically cold stare. That was another oddity about this child- she didn’t appear to have irises. Her eyes were pitch-black, seemingly devoid of soul and emotion.

The bedroom she was in was ornate beyond comparison, even rivalling my own. The floor was deep emerald-green marble shot through with veins of gold, and the ceiling deepest blue with silver representations of the moon, supported by alabaster columns. The bed was a mountain of gold and white silk, with goose-feather pillows, and the furniture, a dresser, a table and chair, and a vanity with a crystal mirror, was of rich ebony. Sitting at the vanity was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Tall with long, rich chestnut hair and jade-green eyes, she was fine and regal and elegant- and at the same time, strangely frightening. As well as the instinctive fear was a strange urge that was so unfamiliar; it took me a moment to place it. After a moment, I realized what it was- the need to please. This woman had to be kept happy under any circumstances. Standing beside the lady was a homely maid- or maybe she only seemed like that, compared to how utterly stunning she was. I only wished I could be so beautiful.

“Who will I be entertaining tonight?” asked the woman in Latin. Her voice was haughty.
“The Count of Ornac, milady,” said the maid as she fixed her mistress’s hair.
“Ugh. Idiot.” She gave a derisive giggle. “Just like my late husband…”
“Milady!” whispered the maid. “The child…”
The beautiful woman stopped laughing immediately. She turned her head slowly, looking at the little girl as if it were a rat that had just entered her room and not a child. Her tone was unspeakably cold. “What’s the girl doing here?”
“Don’t know, milady. She just turned up.” She flashed the pathetic girl a pitying look.
The woman rose from her seat, and began to walk towards the girl in a slow, predatory manner. She leaned down over her, looming intimidatingly as the child quivered under her gaze.
“Lucrezia,” she spat, like it was something exceptionally vile, “GO HOME. You’re supposed to be with your brother!”
Lucrezia looked miserable enough to make me feel sorry for her. Her mouth was turned down, her shoulders sagging, and her eyes had bulged in a way that would have been cute in most children, but was disquieting in her. The woman balked and sharply turned away.
“It’s no good staring. I won’t take you with me. I told you, your brother can look after you.” She scoffed impatiently, sand snatched her hand away. “Lucrezia, this is a court. A proper court. A royal court. I can’t walk around here with a-”
Suddenly she drew her hand away with a scream of disgust, wiping it furiously on a kerchief. “And she’s filthy again! Look at what I’m wearing; how am I supposed to kiss my own daughter goodbye when she’s been rolling in-”
Like a proper lady, she stopped herself from swearing, pressing a hand tightly over her mouth. At the same time, she fixed Lucrezia with a steely glare. The girl’s face I couldn’t read.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” the woman murmured.
The girl just stared back. The woman rubbed her forehead irritably before making a shooing motion, at which the maid quickly took Lucrezia by the arms and tugged her out of the room.

I had no sense of the passage of time, but I felt that it was somehow later. The marble halls were lit with torches, and they were empty. Lucrezia, still in that horrid pink thing, crept slowly along the shadows. I had the oddest compulsion to follow her as she headed for the ornate room her mother had flung her out of. Opening the ebony door softly, she peered inside, and I peered in with her. The room was dark, lit only by a red lantern that did little in the way of illumination. However, I could still make out the figure of Lucrezia’s mother on the bed along with another figure. What they were doing was not difficult to guess. Lucrezia stared, of course, having no idea what she was witnessing. I drew back, uninterested, but then stumbled back in shock as I realized the moans were ones of pain. There was a sickening crack, and then agonized screams from other figure, a man. I doubled back into the room. Lucrezia’s mother had a terrifying grin on her face as she wrestled the wildly thrashing man. She was skinning him alive, revealing shiny flesh as the pearly white sheets were stained with flecks of blood. Something thick was flung into my eyes, and I shut them and tried to rub them, realizing disgustedly that that, too, was blood.

When I opened them, the screaming had not stopped, but now Lucrezia’s mother was looking directly at me. She was no longer smiling, her blood-streaked face completely stoic. But those green eyes that had sparkled so luxuriously were frighteningly cold and angry. I looked down at myself, seeing the polished black shoes, the pink frilly dress now spotted with blood. I looked back up as a hand grasped my shoulder, squeezing it painfully tightly.

My eyes filled with tears as I looked up at Mommy, realizing that I’d made a horrible mistake. I opened my mouth, trying to say, Don’t hurt me, but I couldn’t speak.

And then the door was slammed in my face, knocking me onto my back.

My next sensation was waking up in a bed, streaked with sweat, shaking and gasping violently. The sheets were wound around my arms and legs, momentarily giving me the impression that I was bound, and I flipped out of the bed entirely, viciously ripping the sheets from my body. Still panting for breath, crawling on the floor like a dog, I felt a wave of nausea overcome me, and I vomited noisily right there on the floor. Feeling like a disgusting drunk, I attempted to stand, but my stomach heaved and I was forced to stay down until my stomach had emptied itself. Then I scrabbled for purchase on the wardrobe next to me, and pulled myself up, spitting ‘Brisingr’ as I did. The candles in my room flickered to life, and in the new illumination I stopped to look at myself in the mirror fastened to my dresser.

My skin was sickly pale, my eyes teary. I was shaking violently and uncontrollably. My face was streaked with sweat and vomit, so that locks of dark hair stuck to my cheeks. I had never looked so hideous in my life. At the moment, though, that wasn’t my concern- only that I was myself again. I placed my hands on the mirror, fingers outstretched, staring at my contorted face, my naked body, the surroundings around me. I was the Prophet, the most important woman in Alagaësia. Malandra. Myself. Not an emotionally dead little girl. This was the Cathedral, my Cathedral, not the court of Latinae. But even this realization, this logic that should have been comforting, was not enough to stop the fear and revulsion coursing through me. I wanted to cry, be sick, and scream all at once. I placed my forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, still trembling and hyperventilating, then slowly slid to the floor, collapsing there and curling up.

It took a while for reason to triumph emotion. When it did, I was swept with a wave of new ones- disgust, mostly, at myself. I feared no Rider, king, or god, and yet here I was, brought down to my knees by an ordinary nightmare- a trick of the mind, no matter how cruel. The events, though true, were ones of the past, and utterly unable to have any effect on me. I was Malandra Ramakrishna. Alagaësia was my throne. This thought empowered me. I was Malandra Ramakrishna. I was worshipped like Nyx, and rightfully so. I rose from my ridiculous fetal position, looking towards the crystal windows. It was still night, but I was no longer tired. On top of which, I was stinking and most unattractive. It simply would not do. I stood up shakily, but kept my face set in rigid determination as I pulled the rope that would summon a slave.

A boy appeared, who, after seeing my nakedness, was very careful to fix his gaze on anything in the room except for me. I ordered him to prepare my bath, steaming hot and scented with rose petals. He was obedient but slow, and I spent the time he took to ready the marble tub tapping my foot irritably, impatient but not impatient enough to waste magic doing it instantaneously. Besides, slaves were exceptionally well trained at their duties. A bath I made personally was always somewhat disappointing. When prepared by a slave, it was well worth the wait. Once the final bucket was dumped, the boy stooped to clean my mess and disappeared into one of the cramped servants’ corridors. I allowed myself one more moment of anticipation before finally placing one leg into the steaming water, pausing to enjoy the blazing heat, and then sliding all the way into it with a sigh of pleasure.

I spent the next hour or so lounging shamelessly in the water, blowing bubbles, dunking my head underwater, and fooling around in general. Then, as the water grew cold and my thoughts returned to the nightmare- and my shocking reaction to it- my mood grew dark once more, and I yanked on the bell to summon my cosmetics attendants. Four slaves appeared, all female. I allowed myself to be pulled from the tub and settled myself into a high-backed chair. One slave washed and combed my hair, one attended to my nails, the third covered me with moisturizing berry paste, while the fourth, the youngest, held up a bowl of sweets for me to eat. She was unfamiliar to me, and trembled every time I reached for a chocolate. By then, night was beginning to fail and the light from the windows was deep blue. It was at that point that I heard a knock at my door. I waved at the girl carrying sweets to open it. She approached the ornate doors and opened them, bowing to the person that stepped inside. A Paladin or an Oracle, then.

“Good morning, Your Holiness! Ooh, look at you. Maidservants, chocolates, pedicure… do you have a harem of sex slaves yet, or shall I get one for you?”

I paused with a chocolate-covered strawberry halfway inside my mouth as one of my least favourite Paladins strode into the room. The lilting accented voice, cheery tone and confident gait was very difficult to misplace. Cyprus D’Ellsadro was certainly attractive for a peasant, and she knew it. She wore enormous thigh-high leather boots to show off her impressive leg length, a very small leather skirt, and a lacy black corset to emphasize her bust. Her ash-brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, revealing her smiling face and sparkling blue-green eyes. But the overly tanned skin, the accent, the slightly loping gait- no matter what she believed, she was a commoner through-and-through. And a bloody annoying one to boot. I straightened in my chair as D’Ellsadro approached, leaning against the wardrobe and beaming down at me. Her inane cheeriness in the face of what had just happened made my temper flare. I snapped my fingers at the slave-girls, who quickly cleared their mess and hurried out the door.

“What ‘ave you got to report, D’Ellsadro?” I snapped. “I’m very curious to hear about how tragedy befell two of my men these past few days. A little bird told me you were around to witness everyzing.”
“I was in the neighbourhood. Just in time to see that naughty experiment book it.”
“Oh, so he’s still alive then? Where did he run off to?”
D’Ellsadro paused, suddenly looking uncertain. “Well, he DID leave pretty suddenly… and he’s good at hiding!”
“In other words; you ‘ave no idea. You are useless.”
Cyprus turned slightly to narrow her eyes at me, pouting her lips. “Don’t blame this on me, you ugly hag. Your serum isn’t working so good for me anymore.”
I folded my arms and closed my eyes, settling back in the chair. “And my Paladins?”
“Long story short, turns out Castillon tracked Relian’s experiment to Carvala. After a battle of the ages, he was defeated. Later, Sadean, desperate for revenge, lost his vocal cords in his over-eagerness. But Castillon was a terrible Paladin anyway, and Sadean’s still alive! So all’s well that ends well!”
“Are you so sure about that?”
“Eh?”

I raised one hand and, muttering the words of the ancient language under my breath, extended the nails of my left hand into long, elegant blades that I traced along D’Ellsadro’s cheekbones. She froze on the spot; mouth pressed into a thin line, and then winced as I began to cut along her cheeks. Blood streamed forth from the two slits in her cheeks as I twirled two other fingers and stabbed them into one of the Paladin’s shoulders, pinning her against the wall. D’Ellsadro uttered a pained cry and grabbed at the nails, attempting to wrench them out of her, but I held her fast by embedding two other nail spears into her previously unhurt shoulder. I then watched as she squirmed, helpless, for a few seconds, utterly alike to a rat caught in a trap.

“I was wondering, just between us girls…” I hissed, stepping out of the chair. The berry paste clung to my curves, and juices streamed down my body. “why? Why did I bother to invest my precious time and money on a lying, pathetic, backwater piece of shit like you? The job your duty, is to bring back escaped patients so I can instruct them further on the nuances of pain. Disappoint me again and I shall-”

I paused, tilting my head and taking a step back from D’Ellsadro. She had changed. Her lips were pulled back into an enormous snarl, revealing pointed fangs where there had once been perfectly straight, human teeth. Her eyes, as well, were unusually feral with their dilated pupils. I stepped closer, observing the change in the Paladin. She had pressed herself even further against the wall, where she trembled violently, obviously dying to leap on me and shred me to pieces. Perhaps the serum really wasn’t working out for her anymore. Her body must have gotten used to the dosage. I retracted my nails, sending the werewolf crashing to the floor. The shock knocked her out of her partial transformation, leaving her confused and motionless. I stepped back into the tub to scrub the paste off of my body, only pausing to give one sneering, contemptuous look at D’Ellsadro as she struggled to climb to her feet.

“You stink like an animal, D’Ellsadro. Go wash yourself, and meet me in the dungeons.”

Characters Used;; Malandra Ramakrishna with Cyprus D'Ellsadro
Words;; 2685
Muse;; Uhhh... good. o.O
Thoughts;; Muahaha, I haz an EVIL plan for this thread. Please look in the RP Discussion board if you want to jump in before making a post. >.>

[Elloria]

Raiden pressed himself flat against a building as the Cathedral acolytes he had been following walked past mere feet from him. In the midst of the group was another beggar picked up from the streets to endure Yawata no Kami only knew in the bowels of the Cathedral. Raiden glared at the group as it passed, surprised that they could not feel the intensity of his gaze – or his fury. Yes, he was positively seething with fury. He could count on one hand the number of times he had failed in a mission set to him by Kazan-sama. Twice – once when some Hunter had stolen his kill (which really was still a success because the targets were dead) and this mission. He had gotten careless, distracted by the inhuman beauty of the Prophet Malandra Ramakrishna. He had allowed the desires of his body to interfere with a mission that his lord considered crucial. And that was utterly unacceptable. When the spell he had been placed under had finally been dispelled, allowing him to remember what had truly happened on his first visit to the Tears of Leona…well, it had not been a pleasant experience for anyone around him. By that time, Kazan-sama was already in Carvala to continue his courtship of Princess Leilani. It was to be an extended stay this time – somewhere around a month, Kazan-sama had said. That would be plenty of time. Because Raiden would not screw up this time. As far as he was concerned, this mission had never been completed. And a Hiroisora never left a mission unfinished.

Thus, he was back in this thrice-damned city doing what he should have done the first time around – figure out what in the name of Yawata no Kami was going on the Cathedral of Leona. The group was a sufficient distance ahead that Raiden slipped out of this particular building’s shadow and started slinking along behind them. He had completely disconnected from his natural personality. There was the cold anger that weighed his heart and slowed its beats, but that was not of the laid-back, loving, lecherous bodyguard. He would not be taken so easily this time, his mind hidden from the world by a blinding blizzard. He had stripped away the top layer of his normal outfit. Now he was in the sleek, quiet uniform of the assassin clan – hood pulled up and low over his face, mask firmly in place just below his eyes, weapons securely strapped to his body to minimize clanking, all material a mottled mix of black and dark grey to blend with the shadows. Raiden followed the group in its winding trek towards the Cathedral – pausing with them as they inspected various vagrants, easily hiding in the shadows if one glanced back to see if they were being followed. The moon was full this night, but even that was not enough to reveal him to his prey. The approach to the Cathedral, however, would offer little in the way of cover and this was where it would be tricky. He could either continue following them or find a way to outstrip them and arrive first. He soon opted for the first choice. The Paladins would escort the group in – leaving the doors briefly unattended. So long as he kept low to the ground and slunk along as he had been doing so far, he should be able to get in. The stairs, at least, would afford him more shadows to move in before reaching the doors.

Raiden wasn’t disappointed upon arriving just behind the group of acolytes. The Paladins did not notice him behind the acolytes and destitute. They simply ushered the group in and closed the doors behind them…or door, rather, for Raiden rushed forward and drew a blade to wedge between door and frame. So far, so good. He waited a few more moments before slowly pulling the door open while replacing the dagger in its sheath, sending a silent thanks to Yawata no Kami for the well-oiled hinges. He peered through the small crack, noting that there was very little in the way of light and less in the way of people. Nothing stirred and his well-trained ears heard nothing either, so he opened the door far enough for his body to slip through before closing it behind him. He glanced around once more. There was the large statue of Nyx in the center. To its left would be the corridor where he had been caught the first time around. What better place would be there to start? Sticking to the wall, he circled around the main entrance until he was behind the pillars holding up the second floor balcony and trotting over to the door that was his current goal.

He made it to the door without incident and carefully tested the handle. It turned without resistance, causing Raiden to pause. The silence in the Cathedral was eerie, but nearly absolute. The sputter of candles, a slight draft whistling quietly through the columns…no footsteps, no hushed breathing, no swish of moving cloth – that was all. Pulling out a black-bladed tanto, he quickly opened the passage door to reveal…nothing threatening. No magical alarms appeared to have gone off and the corridor was empty. Still, he was especially cautious as he moved further – leaving the door just slightly open behind him to facilitate a rapid escape if necessary. He needed to be out of here long before daybreak, but he was fairly confident he could achieve that. So, taking a deep breath, he proceeded down the corridor.

Several hours later:
This…was not going to go as quickly or smoothly as Raiden had imagined. He was deep under the Cathedral now, in catacombs far deeper and ominous than he had anticipated. The light from torches was few and far between, allowing him to easily slip from sight whenever Paladins and acolytes would make an appearance. He had lost track of how many side passages he had briefly explored as well as the number of cages he had come across – how many humans he had seen dragged down into the bowels of these dungeons screaming and crying by sadistic Paladins, without any hope of escape. And still his path continued downward. He had long since stopped turning down side paths because they had inevitably led to room after cavernous room filled with cages uncountable, filled with screams of pain and misery. It was very distracting, not to mention nauseating. The smells alone had nearly knocked him unconscious and he was certain his ears would start bleeding if he went into one more holding room.

He paused. The floor had finally leveled out and a short way ahead was an archway. Through it he could see a large, circular room. There appeared to be passage after passage leading off to Yawata no Kami could only tell, each hidden by a door. He moved forward and hovered in the shadow of the archway. This was different. There was a low sound filling the air, like the hum of bees or the purr of a tiger. It took Raiden several moments to realize it was chanting. But it was in a language he had never heard before. While it would be ideal to go down one of those passages and see what exactly was going on, the likelihood of his being caught would rise exponentially if he did. Still…he couldn’t leave this area utterly uninvestigated. And directly across from him was a door that was slightly ajar. It was undoubtedly his best option. Eyes flitting all around, he darted across the wide open space and slipped through the door, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. The relief was short-lived. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe this kami-forsaken room he was in. It reeked of death and decay – of the evil and unwholesome things that Yawata no Kami rejected. What in the world were these people trying to achieve that resulted in so much death that the stench was permanent? He was rooted to the spot by the sheer horror of the implications, shattering the calm of his assassin persona. The sound of the door opening behind him resulted in Raiden wildly spinning around and dropping into a defensive crouch, wondering how many he would have to fight and kill in order to escape this time.

[dantieduurden]

Leviathan was more then happy to be in the bowls of the cathedral. It was like a full course meal all wrapped up and never ending. All the pain and misery that was down their was unimaginable. The fact that it came from a temple of the goddess was the most astounding to him still. " If only there were a few people who would so hatred down here, and not such weak things like fear." Leviathan laughed as his magnificent black wings slowly began to stretch out. Slowly the seven foot tall demon in disguise as that of an angel got up, his close cut hair staying put as his chiseled body began its slow decent to the door that was left slightly ajar. As he got closer his demonic eyes saw the outline of a human like figure. " And what should I do with you hmm? Shall you cause pain and misery?" Leviathan asked the man hiding in the shadow. " If so you better hide right over there under the pile of dead bodies, otherwise the torches will find you." Leviathan said to the figure, not really caring about it as he shut the door completely. " Out of all the things why is it the paladins job to have all the fun. It would be so much more fun if Malandra were to come down this time, then at least I wouldn't be talking to people with no brains of their own." Slowly Leviathan turned towards the figure and said with a big grin showing off his demonic teeth, " You better make your life worth it, otherwise I may have to take back my favor." And with that Leviathan let the door go, his claws leaving a permanent burn in the wood, and began walking to the entrance to the dungeons. Hopefully someone of interest would come down here.

While Leviathan waited he started thinking of the deals he had in place, and all the souls he had in his realm doing his bidden, it was such a lovely thought. " Maybe they should have the slaves torture the slaves here and watch. Yes that sounds utterly delightful." Leviathan thought to himself as he looked at a paladin walking down the stairs. " Well aren't you a looker." Leviathan said as he glided over to her, slowly dragging his nails across her face bring a slight burning sensation do to his demonic nature to were his claws were. " I don't have the time for this Leviathan, I must make preparations." The paladin said to Leviathan and all but tried to push him off of her. " Well as long as your preparations have to do with feeding me I guess I can let you go for now." Leviathan said as he pulled his hand away. " Just remember I own you just like I own many others, one day I will come collect your debt and that day I can see is fast approaching." Leviathan said with a laugh as the paladin started rushing deeper into the dungeons. " Fear what a delicious and remarkable thing it is." Leviathan said with a smile as he fed of the fear the woman had gotten from his words. If only she knew the truth.