full of imperfections -- cyprus

[mortis]

hey you always
seem to catch me when i'm lying about the stupidest
of things, okay, stand there while i stab you in the back
with the words, i never never should have taken this so far

- - - - - - - - - -

There was nothing for Mortis to do today, and it was slowly driving him up the wall. He had slept in since he had been out so late 'entertaining' one of the girls training in a lower Essence. He quite enjoyed these little trysts, but unfortunately he had nothing to do for the day. He had been walking around the Cathedral for the past hour and was ready to cheerfully tear his hair from his skull.

In the main room, he looked up at the altar with a slight smile. This religion made his life possible, and he loved it so. Nothing could amount to it in his opinion. Mortis kept himself from stretching like a well fed cat and instead turned around to lazily walk toward the door. If he didn't find something to do soon he was going to have to go 'out'. And he hated leaving the Cathedral.

- - - - - - - - - -

tag;; emma/cyprus
outfit;; black clothing and a robe.
status;; done
notes;; absolutely sucks, but I should get better once he has someone to talk to. haha
song credit;;
template credit;; me.

[Emma]

The clank of metal reverberated around the room, closely followed by the blood gush.

In the empty silence that followed, I heard Malandra give a low chuckle, and I knew that today, I had pleased the mistress. Poised on all fours and hovering over the body of the Seer that could have become an Oracle this very day, I settled back on my knees, tearing the mace from her flesh. I rent more muscle and shattered more bone as I did so, much to my delight. But she was dead now, and felt nothing. The Seer was on her back, spread-eagled, her eyes and mouth still wide in shock as they had been when she’d witnessed the fall of my weapon. Her dark chocolate hair obscured half of her face.

“Is a pity,” Malandra murmured, her Frankish accent turning perfectly ordinary words into things of beauty. “So young and beautiful. But she was never ze sharpest knife in ze drawer, no?”
“That’s the third one this month, Doctor,” came an Oracle’s haggard whisper, likely thanking his stars that he hadn’t made the mistake of defying the Hand as this Seer had just done. “And this one was a niece of Lord Sarethi!”
“C’est la vie. It was ‘er choice. Well done, Cyprus. Do be a dear and dispose of zis woman. Eloquently, if you please. Goddess forbid someone finds her.”

I’d been hovering over the corpse as they spoke; gazing with enthusiasm at the lifeless dark eyes and still form of the woman I’d just killed. At Malandra’s voice, however, my ears pricked and I immediately set to work removing the insignificant little creature from her sight. I was in the Hall of Prophecy, where all Oracles-to-be were tested, surrounded by five senior Oracles and Malandra Ramakrishna herself. This particular ceremony had not ended well, with the woman shrieking about blasphemy. Eager to please as always, I hefted the corpse and, with a shallow bow, left the Prophet and her Hall.

The woman was slight, and so not a problem for me to carry. Naturally, for the sake of discretion, I took a private hall that was reserved for the Hand only. On top of that, I was on the third of the Cathedral’s four levels, and anyone wandering around here that wasn’t at least somewhat close to the Hand was swiftly booted out. All outsiders that managed to make it to the fourth floor received a far harsher punishment. Whenever I wasn’t hunting down runaways, removing minor annoyances here at the Cathedral was what my duties consisted of. The suspicious disposal of bodies wasn’t even the half of it.

As I walked down the empty marbled hallway, I saw a man gazing up at a statuette of Nyx, a grin curling his lip. I immediately recognized him as Mortis Ryden, a near-middle-aged Oracle who was much more of the type the Hand had need for than the Seer I’d just murdered. A manipulative bastard to the bone, women fell like dominoes at his feet. Good looks and a sly tongue was what he had- two things that had pushed Malandra to the top, which was why she kept an eye on him. Uninterested in making conversation, I kept walking, head held high and corpse tucked firmly against my shoulder.

Words;; 550
Muse;; Good at first, but then it sucked!
Thoughts;; ... tiny, but it could have been worse, I suppose.

[mortis]

hey you always
seem to catch me when i'm lying about the stupidest
of things, okay, stand there while i stab you in the back
with the words, i never never should have taken this so far

- - - - - - - - - -

The silence was deafening and Mortis was ready to leave when the doors opened. He didn't turn around at first, but he didn't hear footsteps. This meant one of two things. Either there was someone scared of him who decided that going in the same room was a bad idea, or...

Mortis turned around, and the latter of his suspicions was confirmed. "Cyprus! You look gorgeous, as always. That corpse really brings out the color in your eyes." He grinned, already amused. Cyprus was one of the paladins in the Hand, and one of the only women who didn't fall all over themselves in his presence. It made her a fun target in his opinion. She didn't seem like she understood the intricacies of courtship, so his flirting probably came off as annoying.

Mortis held his arms out as she kept walking across the floor, grin on his face. Internally though, he was analyzing what was in front of him. The robes on the body denoted a Seer, and were quite bloody. Murdered, most likely. Probably by Cyprus herself, but by order of someone higher. Malandra, no doubt; Cyprus would slay a room of Seers for that woman's approval. "Would you like any help?" he asked, his tone light and joking, but really wondering what this woman did to piss off the boss.

- - - - - - - - - -

tag;; emma/cyprus
outfit;; black clothing and a robe.
status;; done
notes;; absolutely sucks, but I should get better once he has someone to talk to. haha
song credit;;
template credit;; me.

[Emma]

As I’d suspected, much to my distaste, the peasant did turn around to greet me.

I did not slow my pace nor turn around to look at Ryden, and I kept my face impassive. Hopefully, I would lose him among the pillars. His complimenting my eyes was nothing short of unimpressive, and I felt my first, primal nature becoming irritated. I just wanted to toss the body and be done with it, and all humans. However, I soon heard the gentle swoosh of his black robes’ movement and audible footsteps coming after me. At least he knew that. No one in the Hand was supposed to sneak around the Cathedral. Everyone was too harshly trained to kill intruders, as some people learned the hard way.

With no small amount of effort, I turned to look at Ryden. My deep brown locks hung over one eye, and I was clothed in a sky blue dress with a sash of the same colour wrapped around my waist that emphasized my curves. The skirt just barely reached the floor, revealing my bare feet. Due to my lack of care, though, it was not in factory condition. One strap was missing, and the other had fallen off my shoulder. On top of that, it and my face were spattered with blood. I could taste it on my lips. Ryden watched me with a knowing half-smile, his bearing patient and welcoming.

I decided to make him wait, then. I had not stopped walking, as we were very near the crematory. The rows of pillars receded, revealing an enormous stone door with the symbol of Nyx painted intricately across it. Without saying a word, I grabbed it, cranked the knob until I heard a series of clicks, and opened it. A massive oven lay open inside. I shifted the woman’s position so that I was carrying her bridal-style, and carefully laid her within. Then, with a kiss on her forehead and a few hand gestures meant to send the dead to their eternal rest with their maker, I shut the oven, pulled a lever, and let her burn.

“Mortis,” I said finally, after a minute or two of watching the Seer’s body blacken. The smell of burning flesh and hair assaulted my nose, but I had learned to ignore it. Laying my hand across the lever, I tossed my head back and looked at Ryden with a coy smile. “And to what do I owe this dubious pleasure?”

Standing so close to him, I took a moment to look Ryden over a bit more thoroughly. Everyone in the Cathedral except the Prophet was either a peasant or a fool, and I almost never spared them second glances. With his height and looks, I could see why Ryden attracted so many women, but it took more than a pretty face and poetic words to attract my interest. I was not above fooling around with such people- in fact; I greatly enjoyed it- but never more. And I usually grew tired of them after a week or so.

Words;; 510
Muse;; Kinda stunted.
Thoughts;; I couldn't do much in this post and I have trouble getting into Cyprus's head, so. D=