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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Listen to your Elders ==
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| − | Moon waits on the lookout... knowing of the lights, feeling the power behind him, as Selina works her sorcery, bending the essence of the world to her will. Somehow, it feels... familiar. Being on lookout for her. Knowing she is working her magic.
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| − | Something done a thousand times before.
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| − | Throughout the ages.
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| − | Protect her, keep her safe, don't let them get to her. She works her magic, you dirty your hands.
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| − | And then... something else.
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| − | A scent he can't quite place, and yet, just as familiar. A wind unlike any ruffles the trees, a storm of leaves all around Moon... confounding his senses. Coming from Nowhere and everywhere.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Unrelaxed in his guard, the tree makes for an uncomfortable seat as Seven Moon waits. The feeling of familiarity in the situation, of waiting and watching while she does this sort of thing, scrapes on his already frayed nerves. No where, with no one, has he been in this situation. Yet here and now, looming in the darkness over her, it feels as though they had done this a thousand times before.
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| − | It makes him shudder.
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| − | But it doesn't distract him so much that he can't feel the change upon the wind. Moon's ears twitch, his nostrils flare. The branch he's made his outpost in dips soundlessly as he pulls himself to his feet and casts about into the night. Dark. Too dark to see anything but the gently swaying shadows of other trees around him.
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| − | Closing his for a moment, Moon focuses upon the beast within him - something done more in these past few days than ever done before. He calls upon it's ears to pluck the hidden whispers on the wind. He calls upon it's nose to sniff out the danger lurking in the night. He calls it's eyes to pierce through the veil of shadow. Opening his senses to the hound, he opens moonlit eyes to the world again and makes another search across the trees.
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| − | Illusion: It doesn't exist. The world is as it should be.
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| − | But Moon's mind is not in it.
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| − | And even though that is different from before... it is still it. Moon had seen that before... dreams of the old geezer. A way to show him things he could not possibly imagine, a way to open his horizons. A way to train. This is just the same...
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> The moment the realization struck him, Moon was out of the tree and dropping to the ground. His heavy boots landing among the leaves as lightly as the patter of raindrops, he quickly pressed himself into the shadow of the trunk and peered again, tasted the wind again.
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| − | <i>Wrong. Wrong, wrong, <b>wrong!</b></i>
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| − | His lips curled into a disgusted sneer. Like fucking hell they were going to sneak up on him again.
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| − | He danced away out of the underbush and moved up behind Selina softly, whispering as loudly as he dared over her chant. "Somethin' is out there, Angel."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Not daring to take her concentration off her spell for more than the barest of instants, Selina nods sharply, then resumes chanting. The spell was about over, after all. Just a few more seconds.
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| − | Illusion: And as he says that to her... she turns around, vanishing in a whirlwind of black feathers, obscuring the trees around him, the forest around him, everything...
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| − | Everything but the moonlight, alone in a whirlwind of black feathers...
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Shocked for a moment, Moon steps back from where the Dark Angel had stood and only blackness greets him now. Back, into further darkness; a black feathered oblivion with only Luna's face to peer down and greet him. The Lunar swerves back and forth, peering over his shoulder into the endless depths around him.
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| − | <i>The fuck she just do?</i>
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| − | "This ain't a good fuckin' joke," he snarls, the hair on the back of his neck beginning to rise as he stooped into a ready crouch.
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> "No, it is not."
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| − | Comes the voice. Old. Hectic. Curmudgeon.
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| − | Above Moon, looms a shadow. A shadow and nothing more. Opening its wings against the Moon.
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| − | A sillhouette as familiar to him as any. All that he knew... the old curmudgeon as he would only appear in those visions.
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| − | "You took too long to get here. Too long. Slow."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> <i>Can't be...</i>
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| − | But it was. Ragged black wings stretched across the silver plate in the sky. Flowing death-robes whipping in an unseen wind. Sillouette and nothing more, but he'd know that outline if he were high on opium and dancing on the Dons.
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| − | "Oh so <i>now</i> you decide you're gonna show up, you old sack of bones," he growled, but it was a friendly a growl. a <i>relieved</i> growl. "What? Got tired of your right hand keepin' ya company till I bring you that fucking psychopathic piece of nasty red-haired ass you've been pining for and decided you'd check up on me?"
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> "Thought I would not need to worry about brats with so much to do, but you had troubles. So I had to look away from my... duties. My duties! I am a very busy man, Moon, a <i>very busy man!</i>. Crow. Things to crow at! Have to crow, things to crow, things to do, places to be." That tone again. The sort that makes things begin to shake. That one where he goes after Moon to beat him, the type where you go out of his way until he forgets. What tends to not take too long. "Careless, careless, careless <i>careless!</i>." He shakes his head.
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| − | "Where was I...?"
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| − | "Oh, <i>careless</i>! Too careless. What was it this time, too busy chasing another prostitute to notice an attack?"
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| − | The staute on his desk crackled when Moon received the fatal blow. Almost broken, and he had been trying since then.
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| − | "I try to tell you, but you never ever listen, do you? <i>Focus!</i>"
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| − | "Begins with this. Stop letting everyone around you think you are insane. That DOESN'T HELP! Talk with your mind, not with your body. Not your body, your <i>mind!</i> Your mind, your mind..." He moves trembling, tense, angry, presenting a hand to Moon as if the world was on it,
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| − | "... <i>think</i>!"
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Yeah? Sure sweet of ya to wait until after I almost fuckin' died ta show up..." he snarls under his breath, but says it no louder. He knew that tone and had seen how the Father dealt out punishment for it; seen bodies torn apart like fresh bread or twisted into freakish story-teller creatures. Moon himself had been knocked around by the old creep enough to know that the bastard could bruise him if he wanted and that was enough to keep his tongue on a leash. Even this far away, he never knew if the old geezer could hear him or touch him. Few were the times Father of Crows chose to meet him in this fashion and he hadn't yet been able to strike a blow against the young Lunar. Moon wasn't about to take any chances though.
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| − | Not that it really mattered. The old boy was on a roll again. Moon sighed and slunk, stuffing his hands into his pockets and waiting for the nut-job to finish screaming at himself. Sometimes he wondered if any of the other Lunars in the wild had to put up with half the insane shit he did on a daily basis.
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| − | "A'ite!" he forced in when it didn't seem like the older Lunar would stop his rambling soon enough. "So I fucked up, so what? Didn't need ya to go screwing with my head to tell me that. What the hell are you doing here?"
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> A nervous wave of his sillhouette and the feathers vanished into nothingness, becoming so many crow-eyes looking at Moon in the dark..."Trying to see, of course! If you had been broken, been pierced, been wounded, been killed, been destroyed... it would be no good! NO GOOD AT ALL!"
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| − | "... Do you understand? No good, no good, I had to KNOW! Without it, I wouldn't know, and without it I wouldn't have an agent, and without you I wouldn't know!"
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| − | Nevous hands go to his head. The silhouette barely changes. "And you are <i>still</i> not using it! Speak with your _mind_, else everyone around you will think you insane! And you are sane! Those like us can never be insane, we are sane! Speak with your <i>mind</i> Seventh Moon! With your soul, with your graces, with your shard, with the silver tatoos spinning on your mind..."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> <i>Aw, shit... I forgot about that...</i>
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| − | He sighed and closed his eyes, shut off his senses from the world around him. It was always hard to tell with the old bastard was trying to tell him something or just being a kook again. This time, Moon had guessed wrong, which meant the Dark Angel was probably standing somewhere near by listening to him talk to the grass about wanking off. Yeah, that'll look great.
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| − | Everything faded; the sounds of the night, the flow of the wind, even the feel of the clothes against his skin. He floated in a barren void of sensation for a moment, until it came. A picture of canine perfection, broad chested and white-fanged. On heavy paws, it loped out of the darkness and pounced upon him; pounced <i>into</i> him. Animal and man as one. And for the first time in a long time, a feeling of utter rightness filled Moon.
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| − | But like hell he was going to let the old geezer know that.
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| − | "There," the Moon-hound barked up to the hovering crow, padding back and forth as he eyed the bird hungrily. "Ya happy now? All nice 'n echoy on the inside. So whats this about? You didn't do all this just to make sure I wasn't dead. Wadda ya want?"
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> "I did to make sure you were alive! Alive, you see. Not dead."
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| − | The voice comes with satisfaction. Warmth, even. That would be a compliment from a father, the tone alone, the little he let out on his ramblings...
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| − | "And you are using your mind now. Proves you are alive! And sane! We should always be sane!"
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| − | Hands to his mouth, a moment waving them about. A moment stopping to cock his head to the side. A sillhouette high above Moon, looking like a shadow play. "So?"
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| − | He asks, as if he had asked a question that had not been answered. "What about it? I have places to be, things to do... where is the red-haired harridan?" His voice ticks with anger... anger? As he mentions. "Did you get her? And allies? And her?"
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> The hound and Moon both stop their pacing. The hound sits and chews for fleas. Moon just frowns up at the older Lunar.
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| − | "I've... had problems," he answers carefully, scratching an itch on his stomach. There was a flea jumping bellow his shirt and it was driving him crazy. "Almost had the bitch, but she got away. Now I'm shackin' up with this other pale lady. Dark Angel, remember hearing about her? We're both lookin' for her."
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| − | He suddenly realized how much the old crazy would probably throw a fit if he found out Selina wanted the Vestal too, and quickly added. "I mean, she's helpin' me, and I'm gonna help her with somethin' else when we're done. Y'know, tradin' favors?"
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> "Dark Angel. Grave Dragoness. Selina. Moranine."
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| − | "Yes, yes, I remember. Too well, too well. Better than I rememeber some others, maybe better than I remember light or words. Not better than ice, but there is never enough ice. Stained red, every time I close my eyes, every time... I remember that they come for me, that they come for you."
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| − | Crows fly all around Moon and the dog. They crow, ominously. "Strong, though. Good, good, good..."His lines begin to get more coehrent... now if only he can hold that line... long enough before the Moon changes again and he loses it! Moon always changing in half, rectangular, square...
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| − | "What hurt you so?"
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Watching the crows circle past them, the hound growled and rose from it's haunches. With a sudden lunge, it snatched one of the shadowy birds from the air, crushing it's insubstational body between it's big teeth. Dropping it's screeching, flailing pray to the ground, the big dog began to slowly rip bites of feather and shadow-flesh from the bird.
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| − | Moon felt much of the same way. Why did he have to keep asking about that?
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| − | Fur began to grow across Moon's skin, thick and black, sprouting in patches until it blotted him out into the darkness and left only his eyes behind. Eyes that turned away from the elder Lunar.
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| − | "It was a something. I dunno. This thing with a mask. Doesn't matter. Ain't letting nothing like that happen again" his voice trailing away, Moon's eyes slowly began to expand, to pale. Two moons. Then three. Then more. Seven small moons gleamed in a halo around the huskys head as it looked up from it's meal, dark red stains on it's maw. When it spoke, it growled and Moons voice echoed somewhere over it. "I could use help. I gotta request ta make, Father."
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> "Something with a mask. Something dead? We only see dead things around..."
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| − | "Dead things are like lobsters. Remember the restaurant? Always think of lobsters. Always think of food. We are predators, we have to think of food! You break the hsell. Within, tender, tender meat... tender like the flesh of a god, tender like the soul of a man... you break it, and eat. Bite and gnaw until it is gone. Just like a lobster. Just think of lobsters. We need to do it. We are hunters. Hunters need lobsters. NEED it!"
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| − | Hand hitting one another, fingers on his lips as he thinks of flavor... then he stops, and the eyesless silhouette looks down. "Make it. As long as they aren't lobsters. The lobsters are mine. You go kill some dead things and gnaw on what comes out. But not on my lobsters."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> <i>Sima Sweet Thighs</i>
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| − | The hound rolled it's pale eyes until the blue vanished and only pure white remained. Above him, the seven moons rolled as well, until seven eyes stared disgustedly at the Father.
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| − | <i>How the fuck do ya pick people like this, goddess? Do ya just throw a rock and see who ya nail?</i>
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| − | This was getting ridiculous. This was always ridiculous, but this time it was even worse.
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| − | "Yeah, yeah, great. You can have all the fuckin' lobsters you want. Help me out and I'll even get ya some dipping sauce," the Moon-hound shook it's fur out and stepped closer to the crow. "Listen, <i>please</i> listen. The angel's gotta a plan, a'ite? We're gonna stir up some trouble and make a lotta noise until someone takes notice. But there's only gonna be two of us. Now, that's nice an' cozy, but there's only so much we can do on our own"
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| − | The Moon-hound paused a moment. He hoped Selina wouldn't be mad latter. She had said it might help, but was pointless to think about if they couldn't contact the old nut-case. Well
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| − | "It would help a lot if you could send some people down here, ya know? Not to us, just to make trouble too. Get 'um chasing after several people instead of just the two of us.
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| − | "Y'know, ta give"<i>Fuckin' hell</i> "Give 'um more than one lobster to hunt."
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| − | <b>Father of Crows:</b> "The dead are the lobster. I am not using the lobster. I am using wolves. I am using crows. I am using ravens. Ravens to tell of my designs, crows to warn of their coming, wolves to hunt... a pack. You will have a pack.I will let the pack out, to hunt. To make... trouble. They will love it, when they hear it. You always taught them to make trouble. Trouble, trouble, trouble... no wonder, you always did it. But them and more, several packs... all the packs wiill cause trouble."
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| − | And then... he gets up.
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| − | He was standing upright, but he seems to.... rise. Rise. More... greater... his voic now smooth, direct.
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| − | "And you are on a war, alpha male. Dress the part."
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| − | "Places to be, things to do. Too many. Packs and lobsters. And sauce."
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| − | A smile.
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| − | "And when you see Moranine, tell her I will pay my debt. In blood, as it should be."
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| − | ... And then, the mirage unravels... and Moon is back at the clearing. The unnatural wind remains, as a thousand little spirits of ice vanish from sight... leaving a silver egg in front of Moon and Selina.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> He stared ahead blindly at first, empty blue eyes still lost somewhere else. Seeing, hearing, feeling nothing... until the black curtain of the illusion fell away completely and reality came roaring back to him.
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| − | "Oh damn, damn, <i>damn!</i>"
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| − | Swaying on his feet against the sudden assault to his inhumanly enhanced senses, Seventh Moon clutched his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, praying for silence, wishing he had an extra hand to cover his nose from the gut-churning mixture of scents wafting to him.
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| − | He'd forgotten about <i>this</i> part too...
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| − | The ringing in his ears was beginning to abait and his eyes stopped throbbing in pain, but the scents were still overpowering. One above the rest, haunting in the sheer wrongness of it, perpetuating every inch of the clearing. The same foulness he had gotten a wiff of back in the Spire, in the shack as he and the angel made love.
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| − | <i>Fuck, I hope thats not me...</i>
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| − | Clutching his stomach instead of his eyes now, Moon looked up and Selina and gave her woozy smile. "Well, the old crazy is gonna send help after all..."
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| − | Going to and already did. Moon stared down at the silvery egg on the ground between them. Dress the part, the crank-case had said. Of course, he had also said a lot of things.
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| − | "Y'know," Moon sighed as he reached for the egg. "If there's lobster in that thing, I'm gonna be very disappointed."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> The spell'd ended not too long ago, and she'd watched him. Watched him talk to himself, or something she didn't see. Selina was half-tempted to dive into the Trance and find out what it was, exactly. If something was dematerialized and messing with it, at the very least, it could mess with her as well.
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| − | But in the end, she sat down on the springy turf and watched, wings folded pensively. She supposed she looked no better when the Lover came to her, in sleep. Not that it'd happened for a long time. Not often, since she'd disassociated herself from the rutting old ghost.
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| − | "I wonder what kind of help." She says -- not really asking -- in almost a mutter as she regards him, then looks at the egg.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Dunno. Said somethin' about letting the packs out to hunt," stooping down near the egg, like a child who had just found something odd that might have teeth, leaned in ever so slowly with an outstretched finger to prod it. "But not fuckin' mean my pack. Swear if that that pile of dust sends my gang out of the city, I'll tear off his shriveled balls and feed 'um to him."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> <i>Ah ha.</i>
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| − | "He probably has some sort of plan. Every loony old Exalt does." Selina demurrs, laying down on the grass and sighing as her wings open beneath her. She crosses her arms over her chest. "The rest of them know, now. And they'll come. They'd better."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "The rest of 'um?"
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| − | As his finger touched the smooth surface, there was a faint click like a lock coming undone or an egg-shell being shattered. Moon scrambled back as the large silver oval suddenly split open into several sleek petals that pealed back from one another and unfurled into a perfect white lotus flower on the grass. At it's heart, a small treasure trove sat waiting.
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| − | And the most important of the prizes sat carefully folded at the top of the pile.
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| − | "Oh hell <i>yes!</i>" Moon was on the fresh clothing in an instant, peeling out of his stained and tattered shirt as he whooped cheerfully. Snatching up the new shirt from the egg, he brought it to his nose and breathed deeply. He could feel the silk and it smelled freshly cleaned. Moon smiled into the cloth. "Sheeyit... thanks, ya old freak..."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Alex, Cael." Selina's voice seemed to narrow to a point, colder as she spoke the last name. "Vorpal." With a dismissive hmph, she shakes her head, looking up into the sky. "I have grabbed them by the throat and forced them to look this way."
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| − | Tilting her head up a bit, she looks at Moon, blinking curiously as he scoops the shirt out of the egg and puts it on. Really, she hadn't done it correctly the first time. There would be time to rectify that. "He gave you...clothing?"
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Oh yeah" That's right. That's what all her chanting had been for. Moon was too excited about digging into the gifts the Father had sent him to think to be embarrassed for forgetting that.
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| − | He did wonder if they would get their message from Selina the same way he got one from Father of Crows. Somehow, he suspected having the Dark Angel poking around in your head wouldn't be that much more pleasant than having a crazy ass old man doing it. "So they're on their way?"
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| − | Dropping onto the ground, he began to tug at the laces of his boots and kick them off into the grass. "Heh, clothes, yeah some other stuff here too. Here," he leaned over and snatched up a lumpy brown satchel that leaned against the pile of clothing, tossing it to her casual before he went back to changing into the new outfit. Gray and white. Those were his <i>colors!</i>
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| − | Happy, he takes his gifts, his prizes, knowing what to do, his master’s madness aside. Happy, him and Selina spend the night, knowing the darkness is all around them. But knowing one is darkness, and the other shines in it... sleep comes... and so do dreams.
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| − | <b>Red Ice:</b> Caged.
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| − | Hanging atop of a great hall. Of ice, red as a trollop’s lips. Red as loins after lovemaking. Red as blood. The chain is the pull she feels to it... to home. And this imitation of it still generates the same warmth.
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| − | All around her, in every shadow and reflection of ice, their faces – handsome men and women, crying, pleading, begging... watching. Selina herself, crippled.
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| − | Wingless.
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| − | Her cage, she sees it then. Made of her own wings. And blood. And the blood and guilty and sin... every sin against the Immaculate dragons she ever commited, every killing, every overconfident spur, and every self-demeaning moment. Her own feathers, her own bones, her own sins.
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| − | A caged songbird to sing on her throne room... and there she stands, on a throne of a hundred pillows, sipping a chalice of blood while so many of those pleading pretties lay knocked out at her feet, or watching her admirably... your mistress.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> No wings. Reflexively she twitches them...but they aren't there. They're around her, but not connected. Selina's gaze moves from one simpering toy to the next, until finally it alights upon the Lover herself. She feels the pull of longing. And fear.
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| − | And <b>fury.</b>
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| − | A hiss, venomous in its intensity, escapes her red lips as she moves sinuously within the cage of her own wings, long pale blonde hair swaying behind her, running over the back without wing roots to impede it as her hands flex as if clawed. A captured serpent, tethered out of striking distance. Not that striking would ever bring down this one.
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| − | "...You."
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| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> The souls eye her curiously, moaning in desire. For their mistress, mostly... wanting to see Selina with her as well. All for their mistress. They plead, they beg... and the Lover smiles, moving her chalice slightly.... "I see time has not improved your manners, my pretty angel."
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| − | And as she says so... it draws Selina in. Her power, her majesty... her beauty. More beautiful than any faerie princess that ever fell to the Dark Angel's blade. A form perfect, alluring, more sexual than the Dark Angel at her most lustful... a mere bait of her eyelashes making Selina's thigs water. "You miss home? They miss you."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Turquoise eyes widen at that, then narrow down to sultry suggestion as she drinks in the sight of the Lover, fury draining. How she wants to press against her. Almost unbearable, is that feeling. Her voice comes out in a rough purr. "And you like me that way...don't you?"
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| − | Chest heaving, Selina shakes her head suddenly, then draws back from the front of the cage. Still attracted, but aware of it now. "They do." Her voice seems hoarser now.
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| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "Of course I do. I always did. You look always so... <i>ravishing</i> like this." Her smile shifts, as she shifts her weight on the throne, and all the spirits around hold their breaths for it. "You grew so much from the hurt, wounded girl I took under my wing. From the young lady who walked into my Monstrance. Nexus makes you ripe, my Dark Angel."
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| − | | |
| − | The very sound of the word <i>Nexus</i> seems to bring everything back... every hurt, wound, humilliation, every time she dirtied herself in the River Harlot...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Shame wells up inside her, burning, festering, mixing with rage and hopelessness. They'd always wanted the little Solar Accursed to spread her legs. They'd always wanted to hurt her. Animal fury rising, Selina gasps and stumbles back a pace at the memories, ashamed eyes not meeting anyone's glance as she hugs herself. "It...did..." Her voice is still lustful, but a shamed lust. A dirtied one.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "Ripe. Hungry. I know what you are thinking now... you killed many like this, didn't you? Letting it out. My Dark Angel has always been so, so emotional. Such dark emotions wanting out." She shifts her weight again, walking towards her, now... every step seeming to shake the silence of the throne room, every step making the ice shine, her gaze burning over Selina's flesh, almost taking Selina to heaven simply by trailing her eyes over the leotard-clad assassin...
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| − | | |
| − | ... and then she stops, and her mien seems a little more... serious. Sedate, once again, as she was every time she was not playing with her pretties. "How has the assignament been so far, Dark Angel?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Nnnmmm..." Selina whimpers as her mistress walks closer, trembling from desire as it banishes the shame, eyes almost seeming to glitter. "Y-yes. Not like...like...Pale Angel." Her tone becomes a sneer, if one tainted by mounting desire. "Too cowardly to even have them."
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| − | | |
| − | At the cusp, Selina retreats, breathing hard and watching the Deathlord warily. "It goes well. I will reduce the Bishop's army to tatters and rags. His deathknights already hunt me individually -- vulnerable."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "My other angel. She is... interesting. She has them honed as a fine blade. You have yours rampant as a wyld storm. You two are wonderful, in your own ways."
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| − | | |
| − | She smiles, and her smiles seems to brush against Selina's neck from afar... "Nothing like your wickedness. Nothing like your darkness, my Angel."
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| − | | |
| − | She drinks as Selina speaks, then, resuming her sedate expression, her Orichalcum armor glinting on the red reflections, cocks her head to the side, "I knew you would do it well. It makes you want, does it not? To coat yourself on their blood? To want to come to me in it? That is what your Pale counterpart will never have. How wicked you are."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "<i>I am Windia's <b>bane</b></i>..." Selina says quickly, voice suddenly echoing with sensuously malevolent tones, then the assassin shrinks back at the sound of it, adding quietly "And she is <I>not.</i>"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> The Deathlord chuckles. "Are you? You seem to concerned with it for that. You want to be their ruler, not their bane."
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| − | | |
| − | Then, her eyes grow red, red as the ice, piercing Selina's soul. "What about your... <i>other</i> companions?" She says, with only the slightest tinge of a threat, an edge of danger so natural to a Deathlord's voice...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Selina's hackles rise at that, and she steps back against the cage, looking away for a moment, then gazing back to the Lover. "...what about them? They...know of me and her, if that is what you mean. But they are of no threat yet."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> The souls wail as she looks around her... some come closer to the mistress as she walks almost below Selina's cage, but a momentaneous black glow in her form keeps them away in fear. But they come close to Selina... touching her feathers, touching her sin, pleading for her to touch the mistress, to go to the mistress, for them, to take her with them...
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| − | | |
| − | The Lover, on the other hand, simply shakes her head. "Tell me of them. Each and every one of them. And your partner... tell me of her. You two had never met... I see she made... an impression, on my renegade angel."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Yes. She was quite the renegade. There was that. But Selina didn't bring the matter any further, instead moving forward to the limits her cage will allow, snarling softly at the souls with predatory canines barred. Then, satisfied, her gaze settles on the Lover once more. "There is the boy...but I would think you know of him. A Solar. There is another Solar as well, he has an airship at his disposal, and he is...off helping the Pale Angel heal her wounds. I do not know much about Cael, unfortunately. And then there is...Seventh Moon. A Lunar. He travels with me to help destroy the Bishop's forces. And for his own reasons."
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| − | | |
| − | Eyes narrowing, she looks at the souls floating around her, almost daring them to touch her, razored grin flashing in the light. "And the Pale Angel is a tease. I have decided that I have no time for her games any longer."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "Of course I know the boy. I sent you after him, did I not? And you took him... away. Not to Red Ice, but to Windia. The Pale Angel tells me that it was to ensure the boy's loyalty, but I see she had... other reasons." She says, her face... deep as the ocean. Holding something back. Many things back.
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| − | | |
| − | "Tell me of them. The boy and Cael, the infamous rogue of the northern sky. And of Seventh Moon... not a famous figure, yet one I had heard about... I want to know of them. From my Dark Angel's eyes."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "He is useful as bait." Selina says, not a shred of lie there. But only a half-truth, she tells, at least for now. She can hold back things as well. "They want him and his sword, and they are drawn out to their destruction."
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| − | | |
| − | "The boy is eager to avenge his family and kingdom. He's inexperienced and brash, and easily manipulated."
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| − | | |
| − | <I>Though I will not do that.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Going to the next, Selina shrugs, defensive. "You appear to know more of Cael than I...his words and inflection are weapons which he throws at his foes, and that is all I know of the man that you have not already heard. I was not long around him."
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| − | | |
| − | Then the topic moves to Seventh Moon, and Selina hesitates. Not wanting to reveal her doings with him. Not especially what they did in that house, having bottled up her own conflicted feelings from it. Not wanting to share with the mistress she refused to serve under save for payment. "Seventh Moon is...what you would expect of a Wyld God in a city. He is brash, rough, and has an eye for women."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> She looks up to your cage, and up... and to the chain connecting, bonding it to the ceiling. A chain of your Monstrance. A chain of your Monstrance, holding you to Red Ice on a cage of your Black Wings and your sin.
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| − | | |
| − | She shakes her head. "I thought you would be a pretty songbird, for me... but you truly have distanced. You keep so much back from me, so much..."
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| − | | |
| − | "My wicked Dark Angel, do you believe anything you keep back from me, I will not know? Do you believe anything you do not want me to see, I will not see?"
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| − | | |
| − | She smiles once again, her body seeming to be shrouded in lust, in such a great lust... "Do you want to stop singing?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Then why ask me." Selina says slowly, looking at the Lover full on. "You profit from my shame that much? Yes, he had me. I gave myself to him like the whore I am. Do you really wish to hear from my lips that water found its level again?" The last sentence is bitter, and almost snarled out. Funny, she didn't feel ashamed about it at all back then, but that is a vague memory almost forgotten right now. All she can feel for it is <b>dirty</b>. For herself, not because of Moon. Always because of herself.
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| − | | |
| − | "But I am also the Dark Angel." Selina says softer, as if meeting the Lover's perceived threat. Not head on, just trying to make her reconsider. "What whelp can replace me?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> <i>"None"</i>
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| − | | |
| − | She says, a broad grin on her face. A gesture of her hands, and your cage begins to... collapse. To collapse on itself, sending everything to Selina's back... rooting inside her column again, giving her back her wings... and her sins. And everything comes back, each and every time that makes her feel herself a whore. Each and every moment goes through her as her cage once again becomes part of her flesh, letting her fly and be free.
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| − | | |
| − | "And yes. I know of what you mean when you speak, but I want you to sing, anyway. To sing each and every thing for me. To admit, my Dark Angel. To confess to your mistress, renegade as you are..."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> As her wings reform on her back, she glides down to the floor, standing on the solid ground once again. The sin rushes through her...but not all one way. She feels so much more wicked now. The shame's melted away. "So cruel a mistress, wanting me to feel pain for your enjoyment." Turquoise eyes stare at the Lover, then flicker to the souls, those pitiful things. "And pleasure as well."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "You think I want you to suffer?" She laughs in delight, light catching her orichalcum wrappings in a thousand different hues, as she looks at her pretties all around her, sedate, calm...
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| − | | |
| − | "You are the one bringing suffering upon yourself, Dark Angel. Perfect darkness, but you reject it. Shame is something to simply throw away. You are a renegade... out of your own whim." She grins then... mockingly. "It is painful only because you wish it so. Now, pleasure... of course." She stands there... seeming to be taller than Selina. She always seemed taller... and more beautiful, and more desirable, catching the eyes and the lust of all...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Eyeing the Lover with some desire again, Selina intakes a shakey breath. "Again...I would not be the Dark Angel if I did not...would I?" However, Selina does not advance. Let the Lover come to her, if that is what she wants. Or apply herself more strongly.
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| − | | |
| − | "What of pleasure?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "What of <i>pleasure?</i>" She explodes in lust. An alabaster angel, her countless veils moving to the eerie wind of her pretties' moaning... expression sedate, her eyes going through the leotard, through Selina's heart and soul. "What is not pleasure in my company, my Dark Angel? The pleasure of going through a man. Of covering yourself in blood. Of hearing the ripping of flesh and the cracking of bones. The pleasure of having a man pounding inside you or a woman between your thighs. You had your face between mine once... did you forget?"
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| − | | |
| − | She cannot possibly forget; And the very memory of it makes Selina's own thighs water. "If you had not forsaken your mistress... everything would be pleasure."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> For a moment, Selina doesn't really feel anything. Everything goes white, multicolored, indescribable as she is hit by the full force of the Lover's allure. Shivering, she totters, weak-kneed, breathing raggedly as her drooping wings tremble from the strain which she is being subjected to. No resistance is possible.
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| − | | |
| − | "How could I <i><b>not</b></i> remember?" Selina says with a gasp, falling to her knees and resisting the urge to shame herself in front of that harridan. And she feels it in the back of her mind, rising to meet the Lover's passion with its own, full force as a winter gale, but a hundred times hotter. A thousand. The echo in her voice returns, grander this time, majestic and terrible in its allure to match the Lover's. Or so it seems.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>"And yours, darling, between <b>mine</b>."</i> The voice vibrates the room like the drums of apocolypse, then it's gone.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> The tall, wiry woman walks up to Selina... slowly.
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| − | | |
| − | Each step echoing loudly on the throne room, and for that moment, only the two of them were there. Only the two of them. And no other.
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| − | | |
| − | Pale, but warm, hands hold Selina's face, her mere touch bringing shivers. "Yes. You were wonderful. I want you back, my Dark Angel. Back on my fold, back on your home, back on my bed... your face there once again."
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| − | | |
| − | Dark veils part, and a robe of Sable and Cerulean lifts, letting Selina see her subtly-curved legs, and her so lightly-covered thighs... "Take off your dark piece. Let me see you." It is an absolute order - it breaks no argument. "And then, tell me what you want."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Selina moves into the flow of removing her leotard, undoing it at the back of her neck, then sliding out of it. With all the grace and timidity of a virgin...and all the promise of a sinful seductress, making sure her mistress beholds every curve. She lightly tosses it on the ground, breathing hard, then moves up to the Lover, eyes half-open with wickedness behind them, breaths misting hot in the cold air as her wings perk interestedly. "What I want?" Selina says innocently, too innocently, feeling the hands on her face as she rubs up against her Deathlord, looks up naughtily and nuzzles the taller woman's neck, demeanor like a child given too much candy and wondering how to eat it all. "To have you again, Mistress of Sighs."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> A kiss.
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| − | | |
| − | With inhuman skill, with inhuman lust....
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| − | | |
| − | Hands run down her pale body, so naked and defenseless now... so lightly, goosebumps upon her flesh. A single touch between Selina's legs, and it comes... strong, powerful, blinding in pleasure.
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| − | | |
| − | Her mistress smiles, breaking the kiss, and her tone becomes serious, once again. "You will kill all the Bishop's creatures, and earn your jade for it. And be paid as you always do for splashing your hands in blood." Her voice begins to rise... "You will manipulate the boy," she states, as her hands bring another. As she begins to push Selina to her knees..."You will bring this Lunar to me. Him, the windwraith. And the manipulated boy. You know what to say. How to say it. And you will say so."
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| − | | |
| − | On her knees, Selina has her face moved between the Lover's legs, gently... "Otherwise... I would leave it up to your imagination, wouldn't I? But maybe... hmmm, your son. Has he ever met his father, Dark Angel?" Her smile is... wicked, as she pets Selina's long hair... "Have you seen how much he is like his father already? How much his touch will sully women like it did with you? Like father, like son... all it must need is a little push. A little touch, and a little whisper, to make burning green blood wake up. To meet up the father he has within him... it only takes his touch." She moves Selina's head away, and smiles down. "Do you understand, my pretty Dark Angel?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Selina's breath leaves her for a few moments...coming back, she gulps in a lungful of air, then exhales heavily, then breathes in again, panting on her knees. "It is...not tha...that simple..." She gasps out between breaths, looking up. "It'll awaken...anyway. You know this... But...I will bring them if I can."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> She comes down with Selina... taller than Selina, something so rare... kissing her, deeply, feeling her own taste, Selina's own taste... and whispers. Her whispers are hot, confidence, acceptance. Warming the darkest parts of her soul, and saying she understand. She wants. "I know I can stop it. Or bring it out, if I want. So promise me. Promise me you will bring them. Promise he you will corrupt him. Do it, and all will be safe for you. Do not..."
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| − | | |
| − | "Have I ever lied to you, my pretty?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I will bring them..." Selina says uncertainly, casting her gaze downwards. "And I will try to corrupt him. But if nothing comes of it..."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears:</b> "Then..." The Lover says, lifting Selina's face to meet hers'...
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| − | | |
| − | "We will see, won't we?" Another kiss. Her body pressing against her Dark Angel's.
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| − | | |
| − | Making both lose themselves in pleasure, her threats covering the lust, the sin on her wings dirtying the Dark Angel and feeding her heat's fire... until all goes white... and she wakes up.
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| − | | |
| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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