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Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
The SuperHero RPG :: The Superhero RPG Universe aka Roleplay Section :: North America :: United States of America :: Other Cities
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Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 8th 2012, 5:23 pm
The Alaskan alps, grand to some and horrifyingly desolate to others; this monolithic landscape housed more than just the staple amount of mammalian critters, beneath the ice and stone churned a fire like none other, the burning ambitions of an organization bent on manipulation and control. Beneath the snow covered alps, tucked away into the underbelly of a rocky cliff-face was the entry to Dominus, one of several in fact but the large cold steel door was the most noticeable. The base was almost indistinguishable amongst the darkened rock and blustering blizzards and it was no wonder that only a few unlucky hunters had managed to stumble upon it...an unknowing mistake that would more often than not cost their lives. The stark white headquarters was bustling with activity, scientists hastily strolled to and fro whilst armed troopers marched throughout the base, nothing missing their trained eyes. All was relatively 'normal' that day, some men dawdling around on their coffee breaks whilst others chatted about the recent attacks on New York...typical of a human working space. This atmosphere however was completely shattered once a certain man had stomped through the base, a white haired woman rushing after him with words flooding out of her lips like poison.
"Salt! What part of our deal do you not understand? She's now my pet. MY PET! You can't just take her away from me like that..", the woman growled with a slight southern twang, her voice was unwavering and full of equal amounts of malice and subtle panic.
"Don't you ever shut your fucking mouth?", slurred the man known as Salt. A strange grin was plastered onto his greasy face, like he had come out of a restaurant fully satisfied, "Oh don't tell me..You're simply jealous that that kid of yours gets to fuck the little whore instead. Wow Skyler, you are quite a twisted woman", the man giggled, a horrid wheezing noise escaping his chunky throat and polluting the air with his tobacco tainted breath.
The woman stopped, her fists clenched to the point of turning white...any mention of her biological son often had that result."Lilia is my toy! Not yours. Not his. Not any fucking creeper in this place okay?", the woman seethed between clenched teeth, roughly yanking the sleeve of the man halfway down the hallway of 'Ward C'. "If I find her not in the condition I last saw her in I'm gonna tear that worthless sack of yours off." she uttered, making cutting motion with her hand right in front of the man's face.
"Whatever bitch.." Salt mumbled, narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose at the very thought of his manhood getting attacked like so. "You should be happy I'm setting them up together..." he sneered, inching away from the fuming woman in an attempt to get out of her manic reach. "This is Eric's chance to feel like a man. You know, fuck around with some little slut and ahoot things. Now why would his 'beloved' mother want to stop that aye?" he chuckled before swiveling on his heel and storming off in the direction of a young female scientist, rubbing his hands in delight.
The white haired woman stood still, the man's words shaking her to her very core.
***
A single female figure sat still in the middle of a large white room, her legs clenched together and folded underneath her body with her dainty hands propped onto her skinny thighs. Her pale slender fingers were interlaced together, scraping at the skin of her knuckles as she waited, the growing sense of dread building up in the core of her petite body. Her clothes matched the stark white of the interior in which she waited, the only noticeable things being her pale beige underskirt and the startling sky blue eyes. The girl swallowed, blinking twice in an attempt to get the dry air out of her eyes. Her breathing was gradually becoming quicker, every rise and fall of her chest a bit more panicked than the last. This girl, with all of her ethereal beauty and innocence was as equally dangerous as she was timid and it made sense that the horrid man who forced her into this room shackled her pale bony wrists together with particularly intricate looking handcuffs. She was none other than Lilia Ivanov, Dominus' prima ballerina and surrogate daughter to Skyler Snowden, infamous doctor and now agent of Dominus.
The whimpering teenager did not know why she had been shoved into the room, all she knew was that her guardian was not happy at all with the turn of events, speaking angry English words to Franklin Salters before he eagerly tossed the girl into the sterile space. She would not cry however. Her 'mother' told her to be strong so any apparent threat of her doe eyes leaking with moisture was thwarted by biting her tongue...to the point that it bled. Her forced composure quickly broke when the handle of the door began to turn. A whole manner of thoughts ran through her head, threatening to make her anxiety even worse. Was it a pack of troopers wanting to waste away their hours on her frail body? Was it scientists hoping to prod her body with needles to discover the reason for her power? Was it a friend coming to save her?
The terrifying thoughts were frozen in place once the door swung open, resulting in a sharp gasp to escape her peachy lips.
It was not who she thought it would be.
"Salt! What part of our deal do you not understand? She's now my pet. MY PET! You can't just take her away from me like that..", the woman growled with a slight southern twang, her voice was unwavering and full of equal amounts of malice and subtle panic.
"Don't you ever shut your fucking mouth?", slurred the man known as Salt. A strange grin was plastered onto his greasy face, like he had come out of a restaurant fully satisfied, "Oh don't tell me..You're simply jealous that that kid of yours gets to fuck the little whore instead. Wow Skyler, you are quite a twisted woman", the man giggled, a horrid wheezing noise escaping his chunky throat and polluting the air with his tobacco tainted breath.
The woman stopped, her fists clenched to the point of turning white...any mention of her biological son often had that result."Lilia is my toy! Not yours. Not his. Not any fucking creeper in this place okay?", the woman seethed between clenched teeth, roughly yanking the sleeve of the man halfway down the hallway of 'Ward C'. "If I find her not in the condition I last saw her in I'm gonna tear that worthless sack of yours off." she uttered, making cutting motion with her hand right in front of the man's face.
"Whatever bitch.." Salt mumbled, narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose at the very thought of his manhood getting attacked like so. "You should be happy I'm setting them up together..." he sneered, inching away from the fuming woman in an attempt to get out of her manic reach. "This is Eric's chance to feel like a man. You know, fuck around with some little slut and ahoot things. Now why would his 'beloved' mother want to stop that aye?" he chuckled before swiveling on his heel and storming off in the direction of a young female scientist, rubbing his hands in delight.
The white haired woman stood still, the man's words shaking her to her very core.
***
A single female figure sat still in the middle of a large white room, her legs clenched together and folded underneath her body with her dainty hands propped onto her skinny thighs. Her pale slender fingers were interlaced together, scraping at the skin of her knuckles as she waited, the growing sense of dread building up in the core of her petite body. Her clothes matched the stark white of the interior in which she waited, the only noticeable things being her pale beige underskirt and the startling sky blue eyes. The girl swallowed, blinking twice in an attempt to get the dry air out of her eyes. Her breathing was gradually becoming quicker, every rise and fall of her chest a bit more panicked than the last. This girl, with all of her ethereal beauty and innocence was as equally dangerous as she was timid and it made sense that the horrid man who forced her into this room shackled her pale bony wrists together with particularly intricate looking handcuffs. She was none other than Lilia Ivanov, Dominus' prima ballerina and surrogate daughter to Skyler Snowden, infamous doctor and now agent of Dominus.
The whimpering teenager did not know why she had been shoved into the room, all she knew was that her guardian was not happy at all with the turn of events, speaking angry English words to Franklin Salters before he eagerly tossed the girl into the sterile space. She would not cry however. Her 'mother' told her to be strong so any apparent threat of her doe eyes leaking with moisture was thwarted by biting her tongue...to the point that it bled. Her forced composure quickly broke when the handle of the door began to turn. A whole manner of thoughts ran through her head, threatening to make her anxiety even worse. Was it a pack of troopers wanting to waste away their hours on her frail body? Was it scientists hoping to prod her body with needles to discover the reason for her power? Was it a friend coming to save her?
The terrifying thoughts were frozen in place once the door swung open, resulting in a sharp gasp to escape her peachy lips.
It was not who she thought it would be.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : Hard as diamonds, soft as silk
Warnings :
Number of posts : 309
Location : Australia
Age : 31
Registration date : 2012-05-24
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 9th 2012, 8:17 am
Many days had passed since Eric had gone on an excursion with Lilia and his mother. Since then, he had only caught glimpses of both of them, or at the most exchanged glances. In their absence however, his days would be spent with a different company. The Blacksmith had since graduated from his imprisonment and enslavement. Resentment towards the fact he had been treated as such burned brightly within him, but these embers were gradually cooled by words of praise, promises of greatness and the illusion of freedom. He now wore the Dominus uniform with some modicum of pride, having even been given his own personalized insignia: a white anvil with a winged Ourobouros serpent coiled around it. He was given his own quarters, significantly more spacious and luxurious than the cramped workshop he was forced to sleep in during his captivity. He could now roam the halls freely, and though he had long work days, his unrestricted access to all of the base's accomodations was more than worth it. This was by far the best job he'd ever had.
Franklin Salters had been assigned to him as his handler. Blacksmith didn't like the man; he was the most unpleasant, foul-smelling, dirty and depraved individual he had ever met. But for all his faults, at least he seemed to accept him. At least he gave him the respect he felt he deserved. Salt was not a strict man, and was far more easy-going than Eric had thought he would be.
He was headed towards the training room, where Salt said he had a gift waiting for him. Eric was apprehensive; even though Salt had been more friendly to him as of late, he still didn't trust him. Nor did he like the man's tone. 'A present' was waiting for him, which could be anything ranging from a five-course dinner with a supermodel to some humiliating rite of initiation. What Eric feared the most however was that he would forced to confront his mother, and that his identity as her son would be revealed to her. He didn't want that. No, that would have to wait for the right moment. He had planned to climb the ladder of the organization, eventually outranking his mother. Then he would take her pet from her, free the poor girl and take her under his wing, while robbing his mother of all she held dear. Ms. Snowden was uncharacteristically nice to Etoile sometimes, usually when Frank was out of sight, but this didn't fool Eric. Lilia was her slave just as much as she was Salter's, and property of Dominus. She had been in his thoughts quite often, her form and her predicament having been the subject of many of his daydreams and nightmares respectively.
Upon entering the room and figuring out exactly what his 'gift' was to be, Eric uttered a simple "Ah..".
Should have guessed. That pig of a man never failed to raise the bar futher in regards to depravity. Then again, at least he was consistent in his blatant rejection of morality and any form of sympathy towards his fellow human beings. However, none of that mattered to Eric when he stood face to face with the girl who had seized his heart without knowledge.
Eric clenched his teeth and scowled as he unravelled the mystery of Salt's present. To be reunited with the girl in the very place where weeks ago he had been forced to skewer her with blades and beat her within an inch of his life. A reminder of the atrocities he was forced to inflict upon her, and the shameful pleasure he had experienced in doing so. Was it Franklin's intent to make him relive that moment? To further embrace the bliss of absolute power over another could give him? He didn't know, but if it were so he sure as hell didn't want to give him the pleasure of giving in to it.
"So this is what you meant, Franklin. A present, already unwrapped and ripe for the taking. Has your signature written all over it." He mused, speaking to himself, expecting Franklin Salters to be surveiling him, listening to his every word.
The black of his uniform and his hair contrasted with the stark whiteness of the room and Lilia's attire and appearance. A solitary raven treading upon the marble floor of a sacred temple, defiling it with every step taken. Eric approached the ballerina, his expression hidden behind a veil of gloom and severity of a grave nature. He held no illusions about the gravity of the situation. He held little autonomy here, again subjected to the will of his handler and thrust into a depraved and degenerate scenario in which he was to play the role of the devil. It wasn't unlikely at all for him to be forced to torture the girl again, or perhaps even violate her fragile form for the pleasure of the scenario's director; the defiler and debaser who would use Eric as a tool to slate his lust which had grown beyond the flesh and into the realm of mental abuse.
When he had reached the girl, he kneeled down in front of her and held up her chin with his right hand forcing her to look him straight in the eyes and see the face of her tormentor. She was beautiful, even when reduced to this state. In tears, shivering from confusion and fear for what was to come, it only did more justice to her appearance, prodding at Eric's heart to awaken any and all feelings of paternal nature; the wish to protect, to own, to hold dear.
"Ты меня ненавидишь?" He asked in her native language. He had learned earlier that this was the only language she spoke fluently and understood clearly at present, her English being rather poor.
Franklin Salters had been assigned to him as his handler. Blacksmith didn't like the man; he was the most unpleasant, foul-smelling, dirty and depraved individual he had ever met. But for all his faults, at least he seemed to accept him. At least he gave him the respect he felt he deserved. Salt was not a strict man, and was far more easy-going than Eric had thought he would be.
He was headed towards the training room, where Salt said he had a gift waiting for him. Eric was apprehensive; even though Salt had been more friendly to him as of late, he still didn't trust him. Nor did he like the man's tone. 'A present' was waiting for him, which could be anything ranging from a five-course dinner with a supermodel to some humiliating rite of initiation. What Eric feared the most however was that he would forced to confront his mother, and that his identity as her son would be revealed to her. He didn't want that. No, that would have to wait for the right moment. He had planned to climb the ladder of the organization, eventually outranking his mother. Then he would take her pet from her, free the poor girl and take her under his wing, while robbing his mother of all she held dear. Ms. Snowden was uncharacteristically nice to Etoile sometimes, usually when Frank was out of sight, but this didn't fool Eric. Lilia was her slave just as much as she was Salter's, and property of Dominus. She had been in his thoughts quite often, her form and her predicament having been the subject of many of his daydreams and nightmares respectively.
Upon entering the room and figuring out exactly what his 'gift' was to be, Eric uttered a simple "Ah..".
Should have guessed. That pig of a man never failed to raise the bar futher in regards to depravity. Then again, at least he was consistent in his blatant rejection of morality and any form of sympathy towards his fellow human beings. However, none of that mattered to Eric when he stood face to face with the girl who had seized his heart without knowledge.
Eric clenched his teeth and scowled as he unravelled the mystery of Salt's present. To be reunited with the girl in the very place where weeks ago he had been forced to skewer her with blades and beat her within an inch of his life. A reminder of the atrocities he was forced to inflict upon her, and the shameful pleasure he had experienced in doing so. Was it Franklin's intent to make him relive that moment? To further embrace the bliss of absolute power over another could give him? He didn't know, but if it were so he sure as hell didn't want to give him the pleasure of giving in to it.
"So this is what you meant, Franklin. A present, already unwrapped and ripe for the taking. Has your signature written all over it." He mused, speaking to himself, expecting Franklin Salters to be surveiling him, listening to his every word.
The black of his uniform and his hair contrasted with the stark whiteness of the room and Lilia's attire and appearance. A solitary raven treading upon the marble floor of a sacred temple, defiling it with every step taken. Eric approached the ballerina, his expression hidden behind a veil of gloom and severity of a grave nature. He held no illusions about the gravity of the situation. He held little autonomy here, again subjected to the will of his handler and thrust into a depraved and degenerate scenario in which he was to play the role of the devil. It wasn't unlikely at all for him to be forced to torture the girl again, or perhaps even violate her fragile form for the pleasure of the scenario's director; the defiler and debaser who would use Eric as a tool to slate his lust which had grown beyond the flesh and into the realm of mental abuse.
When he had reached the girl, he kneeled down in front of her and held up her chin with his right hand forcing her to look him straight in the eyes and see the face of her tormentor. She was beautiful, even when reduced to this state. In tears, shivering from confusion and fear for what was to come, it only did more justice to her appearance, prodding at Eric's heart to awaken any and all feelings of paternal nature; the wish to protect, to own, to hold dear.
"Ты меня ненавидишь?" He asked in her native language. He had learned earlier that this was the only language she spoke fluently and understood clearly at present, her English being rather poor.
Blacksmith- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.
Warnings :
Number of posts : 47
Registration date : 2012-01-14
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 11th 2012, 12:21 am
The pale white steel door swung open, ushering in a cool sweep of air that kissed her face before the dark figure entered the room. Lilia tensed up, sharply inhaling as the familiar sight of the Dominus uniform attracted her wary gaze; black and grey with the insignia printed onto the left breast pocket, causing a meek whimper to escape her peachy lips. This uniform was something drilled into her nightmares; thrown into a messy pile alongside her own clothing whilst she committed an act she would much rather prefer to wipe out of her mind. These men and their uniforms were specters that haunted the suffocating alleyways of her traumatized conscious and because of this the trembling terror from the mere sight of such a thing seemed justified, that is until she saw who was wearing it. Her fear turned into concern when she noticed that HE was wearing the uniform. The young man, the one who assaulted her all those week back, otherwise known as Eric or Blacksmith was the intruder...the man sent to commit whatever unknown act he'd been sent to do. The instance her glistening blue eyes met his own a low, meek snivel escaped her visage, making it quite obvious that the ballerina was now terrified as she was worried.
Eric could not of come to torture her again, she had attempted with all of her fragile might to pave the way for some forgiveness during their mission in the amusement park and it seemed highly unlikely he still wished to harm her...and yet she did not know why she was so terrified, so utterly helpless under his cold gaze. Her lips quivered, not daring to make a sound as he gripped her face, the only movement she could manage was to instinctively jerk back, it was not uncommon for her tormenters to demand a kiss or something even worse. Although such thoughts were dashed from her mind when he began speaking, speaking in a language she was most comfortable with...although this first proper conversation strter was far from what many would deem appropriate. She clenched her jaw the instant the question was asked 'did she hate him?', her mind was racing and for a few seconds she day their frozen, averting her gaze as she slowly swallowed...scared of what her answer would result in if she gave him the wring answer. He was such a cold person, but she could feel his pain and inner turmoil and yet she could not forgive his harsh treatment of Skyler, to the ballerina it seemed so unwarranted and rude. She stared blankly at his chest, slowly shaking her head and whispering a "no..", shuffling in her spot hoping not to incur his wrath.
There was a cold silence, her breathing becoming sharper and much more tense...why was Eric here? Was he here to tear away her virtue whilst Skyler was away? Was he here to test his ever-growing abilities on her body. Before she could force another shallow breath to escape her lips the intercom hidden in the roof overhead crackled with life, an all too familiar sneering drawl penetrated the atmosphere within the room, eliciting a terrified yelp to escape Lilia's lips. It was Salt.
"Well technically you'll have to unwrap her if you want the good bits...", cackled the sick man from places unknown...it was merely his haunting voice causing the trembling girl to shudder in fear. "No one's gonna watch Blacksmith...do with her whatever you wish. Just look at that poor little miserable face of her's, don't you just want to kiss it?", Salt gleamed, his voice wheezing with excitement as he let his imagination run free. "C'mon I heard reports the little slut showed you up on that white haired Bitch's excursion to the themepark. This is your time to show her whose really the powerful one...she's metahuman trash. Oh and if you really want to make her scream you shou - ", his eerie monologue was cut short, insantly followed by a shrill hum that rang for a few seconds before dissapearing. The lights were soon to follow, plunging the white room into a murky darkness, that allowed only the basic outlines of their figures to be seen.
Lilia whimpered, now even more terrified with her predicament, her lips shuddering in fear as her eyes desperately scanned for any source of light to comfort her. It was a sad fact that the teenager was still scare of the dark, living all of those years in her suffocating cell, forced to please the sick fantasies of her tormenters in the pitch black of her room or under the constricting enfolds of a blindfold...whenever it was dark her anxiety became worse, her natural fears of her body coming under siege filling her frantic mind with dread. Not only was she surrounded by shadows but she was also in te company of a male whose objectives her unknown. Had Salt done this on purpose to further traumatize her? No one was going to see Eric commit any crime and neither would they walk in on him considering that the automatic doors were also more than likely affected by the blackout. Lilia shuddered, her petite body tensing up in fear as her senses became in tune with this horrible darkness. She could hear his breathing, he was so close and that frightened her even further, she was unable to push him away nor clamber back and hide in the corner of the room..her current state was at the whim of the blacksmith.
Her breathing quickened and desperate sniffles were ushered from Lilia as she quietly began to sob, this room had a habit of tearing her psychological defenses down and forcing her to revert back into the very thing thing was her most obvious weakness when not in diamond form. She was just a helpless, weak and terrified girl who was once more tossed into the sick games of an organization she despised. Her mind was racing, how would she ever convince Eric not to hurt her, if he planned to, in this black prison? Her lips trembled, she choked on her words more than once but the meek, whispery voice managed to utter a few words in the ballerina's native tongue before the emotions once more took control..
"...Please...don't hurt me.."
Eric could not of come to torture her again, she had attempted with all of her fragile might to pave the way for some forgiveness during their mission in the amusement park and it seemed highly unlikely he still wished to harm her...and yet she did not know why she was so terrified, so utterly helpless under his cold gaze. Her lips quivered, not daring to make a sound as he gripped her face, the only movement she could manage was to instinctively jerk back, it was not uncommon for her tormenters to demand a kiss or something even worse. Although such thoughts were dashed from her mind when he began speaking, speaking in a language she was most comfortable with...although this first proper conversation strter was far from what many would deem appropriate. She clenched her jaw the instant the question was asked 'did she hate him?', her mind was racing and for a few seconds she day their frozen, averting her gaze as she slowly swallowed...scared of what her answer would result in if she gave him the wring answer. He was such a cold person, but she could feel his pain and inner turmoil and yet she could not forgive his harsh treatment of Skyler, to the ballerina it seemed so unwarranted and rude. She stared blankly at his chest, slowly shaking her head and whispering a "no..", shuffling in her spot hoping not to incur his wrath.
There was a cold silence, her breathing becoming sharper and much more tense...why was Eric here? Was he here to tear away her virtue whilst Skyler was away? Was he here to test his ever-growing abilities on her body. Before she could force another shallow breath to escape her lips the intercom hidden in the roof overhead crackled with life, an all too familiar sneering drawl penetrated the atmosphere within the room, eliciting a terrified yelp to escape Lilia's lips. It was Salt.
"Well technically you'll have to unwrap her if you want the good bits...", cackled the sick man from places unknown...it was merely his haunting voice causing the trembling girl to shudder in fear. "No one's gonna watch Blacksmith...do with her whatever you wish. Just look at that poor little miserable face of her's, don't you just want to kiss it?", Salt gleamed, his voice wheezing with excitement as he let his imagination run free. "C'mon I heard reports the little slut showed you up on that white haired Bitch's excursion to the themepark. This is your time to show her whose really the powerful one...she's metahuman trash. Oh and if you really want to make her scream you shou - ", his eerie monologue was cut short, insantly followed by a shrill hum that rang for a few seconds before dissapearing. The lights were soon to follow, plunging the white room into a murky darkness, that allowed only the basic outlines of their figures to be seen.
Lilia whimpered, now even more terrified with her predicament, her lips shuddering in fear as her eyes desperately scanned for any source of light to comfort her. It was a sad fact that the teenager was still scare of the dark, living all of those years in her suffocating cell, forced to please the sick fantasies of her tormenters in the pitch black of her room or under the constricting enfolds of a blindfold...whenever it was dark her anxiety became worse, her natural fears of her body coming under siege filling her frantic mind with dread. Not only was she surrounded by shadows but she was also in te company of a male whose objectives her unknown. Had Salt done this on purpose to further traumatize her? No one was going to see Eric commit any crime and neither would they walk in on him considering that the automatic doors were also more than likely affected by the blackout. Lilia shuddered, her petite body tensing up in fear as her senses became in tune with this horrible darkness. She could hear his breathing, he was so close and that frightened her even further, she was unable to push him away nor clamber back and hide in the corner of the room..her current state was at the whim of the blacksmith.
Her breathing quickened and desperate sniffles were ushered from Lilia as she quietly began to sob, this room had a habit of tearing her psychological defenses down and forcing her to revert back into the very thing thing was her most obvious weakness when not in diamond form. She was just a helpless, weak and terrified girl who was once more tossed into the sick games of an organization she despised. Her mind was racing, how would she ever convince Eric not to hurt her, if he planned to, in this black prison? Her lips trembled, she choked on her words more than once but the meek, whispery voice managed to utter a few words in the ballerina's native tongue before the emotions once more took control..
"...Please...don't hurt me.."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : Hard as diamonds, soft as silk
Warnings :
Number of posts : 309
Location : Australia
Age : 31
Registration date : 2012-05-24
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 11th 2012, 3:38 pm
"no" she whispered softly. Her lips said no, but everything about her, from her posture to her moist eyes screamed of doubt and fear. If she didn't hate him, she was sure as hell frightened of him. That's right. Their first introductory moments together hadn't really made that great an impression on either of them. She had bludgeoned his face with her bare hands while she was in diamond-form, whereas he had later retaliated by beating her to an inch of her life and impaled her limbs with thin swords in this very room. Yeah, she had every right to be frightened of him, especially considering her already traumatic history with the room and men in general. Eric had heard all about Salt's exploits by now, and the abuse this frail, pretty girl had been put through already. Abuse that could and would break her mind eventually, given a little more time. How did she put up with it all, he wondered as he stared deep in her eyes, still holding her chin. For a moment his usual facade of discontent and ire crumbled, and his face showed genuine compassion and sadness.
It wasn't to last long. As the voice of his handler, the girl's tormentor echoed boisterously through the room, the scowl returned to his face, and he relinquished his grip on the girl's face. He turned around defiantly in the direction of where he now knew the observer's room lay hidden behind a secret window.
His words stung as usual, as behind the thick layers of depraved maleficence rested some small source of truth. In the instant he pulled her face to his, the thought of kissing her had arisen, though he had instantly rejected it. He could take her if he wanted, but he wouldn't have deserved it. He wasn't worthy of it, he thought, and Salt attempted to convince him otherwise.
He told him she was trash, that he should have his way with her, exploit her body to his heart's content. The man even tried to play on Blacksmith's feelings of inadequacy when his abilities were compared to Lilia's, the difference between their powers being so blatantly clear. The truth that he was nothing when compared to her, and even most agents and troopers of the organization presented itself every time he had to look at her. It hurt his pride, and was indeed one of the greatest tools of manipulation Salt had to play him with. But before his words could do any more harm, sway Eric to darker corners of his mind, the radio transmission was abruptly cut off, and the room cast into darkness.
It startled Eric only a little, and he quickly recovered from the scare. But Lilia broke down into even more of a mess than before, and seemed not to be taking the sudden descent of darkness very well. Before breaking down into tears the ballerina uttered a few words in Russian that Eric couldn't quite understand, though the implication was clear enough. She was scared of him, and what she thought he would do to her now. The fact she thought so badly of him almost angered him, but his knowledge of her unique predicament and history of abuse quickly extinguished the flame of rage that threatened to well up in him, replacing it with self-loathing and pity for the sad little heap of humanity that sat before him. He took a few steps back and observed the girl for a minute, his mind thinking of what he could do to console her, or at least distract her.
Slowly he walked around her, and sat down behind her so that their backs were connected. He leaned back a little, his every motion slow and controlled as if he hadn't a care in the world, and time to spare.
"It's just a blackout, you know? Nothing to be afraid of." He said, his tone oddly relaxed and comforting. "When I was little, I used to be scared of thunder. I'd hide underneath my bedsheets, wishing desperately for the thunder the stop. I thought if I wished hard enough, it might actually work. You know, the power of believing." Eric chuckled softly.
"Turns out that's mostly wrong, but not completely. Some people can make things happen just by wanting it. It's really cool."
A small light formed in Eric's hands as he began to project his focused will and knowledge of weaponry into reality, willing his tool into existence.
"But even then, you can't have everything. Can't have your cake and eat it too, you know what I mean?"
The light subsided and left a handgun with mounted flashlight in its wake.
"I can make anything, as long as it can hurt people. It's not like I want to, but that's just how it works."
He took the gun in his hand and shoved it over to Lilia's side, giving her both a source of light and a means to end his. He had done it without giving it much thought, but even as he realized what he had given her he didn't much care. He was more curious than scared to find out what she would do with the tool given to her.
It wasn't to last long. As the voice of his handler, the girl's tormentor echoed boisterously through the room, the scowl returned to his face, and he relinquished his grip on the girl's face. He turned around defiantly in the direction of where he now knew the observer's room lay hidden behind a secret window.
His words stung as usual, as behind the thick layers of depraved maleficence rested some small source of truth. In the instant he pulled her face to his, the thought of kissing her had arisen, though he had instantly rejected it. He could take her if he wanted, but he wouldn't have deserved it. He wasn't worthy of it, he thought, and Salt attempted to convince him otherwise.
He told him she was trash, that he should have his way with her, exploit her body to his heart's content. The man even tried to play on Blacksmith's feelings of inadequacy when his abilities were compared to Lilia's, the difference between their powers being so blatantly clear. The truth that he was nothing when compared to her, and even most agents and troopers of the organization presented itself every time he had to look at her. It hurt his pride, and was indeed one of the greatest tools of manipulation Salt had to play him with. But before his words could do any more harm, sway Eric to darker corners of his mind, the radio transmission was abruptly cut off, and the room cast into darkness.
It startled Eric only a little, and he quickly recovered from the scare. But Lilia broke down into even more of a mess than before, and seemed not to be taking the sudden descent of darkness very well. Before breaking down into tears the ballerina uttered a few words in Russian that Eric couldn't quite understand, though the implication was clear enough. She was scared of him, and what she thought he would do to her now. The fact she thought so badly of him almost angered him, but his knowledge of her unique predicament and history of abuse quickly extinguished the flame of rage that threatened to well up in him, replacing it with self-loathing and pity for the sad little heap of humanity that sat before him. He took a few steps back and observed the girl for a minute, his mind thinking of what he could do to console her, or at least distract her.
Slowly he walked around her, and sat down behind her so that their backs were connected. He leaned back a little, his every motion slow and controlled as if he hadn't a care in the world, and time to spare.
"It's just a blackout, you know? Nothing to be afraid of." He said, his tone oddly relaxed and comforting. "When I was little, I used to be scared of thunder. I'd hide underneath my bedsheets, wishing desperately for the thunder the stop. I thought if I wished hard enough, it might actually work. You know, the power of believing." Eric chuckled softly.
"Turns out that's mostly wrong, but not completely. Some people can make things happen just by wanting it. It's really cool."
A small light formed in Eric's hands as he began to project his focused will and knowledge of weaponry into reality, willing his tool into existence.
"But even then, you can't have everything. Can't have your cake and eat it too, you know what I mean?"
The light subsided and left a handgun with mounted flashlight in its wake.
"I can make anything, as long as it can hurt people. It's not like I want to, but that's just how it works."
He took the gun in his hand and shoved it over to Lilia's side, giving her both a source of light and a means to end his. He had done it without giving it much thought, but even as he realized what he had given her he didn't much care. He was more curious than scared to find out what she would do with the tool given to her.
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Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 12th 2012, 2:53 am
The girl sat frozen, not daring to make any movements as she sat helpless under the scrutinizing gaze of Eric. Lilia's whole body shivered in discomfort, beads of moisture slowly beginning to form on her pale brow as she allowed the young man the space to do whatever he wanted in the dark. She was prepared for the worst and the only thing stopping her stifled sobs from turning into uncontrollable crying was the fact that she had once more resorted to biting her tongue, something which had quickly resulted with her taste-buds becoming overwhelmed with the peculiar metallic taste of blood. Her breathing quickened when his measured footsteps snapped the cold tense atmosphere around them, forcing the shivering girl to elicit a few sniveling whimpers as her terror took hold. It was only until he sat right behind her, with their backs touching and shoulder blades caressing one another did the young agent let out a muffled yelp, flinching as his warm body made contact with her own. She was expecting the worst and feeling him so close to her in a manner that was not threatening even further confused her.
Lilia sharply inhaled, clenching her jaw as she awaited whatever it is that her brooding tormenter had planned for their little stay in the darkness. It was only until his voice rang calm and clear throughout the space did the ballerina let out a relieved sigh. He did not sound angry nor was his voice unwavering or muffled...Eric was speaking to her like he thought she could understand, as if the surprisingly gentle English that rolled of his tongue could bring the fragile Russian some peace... and to an extent it was actually working. What was he saying? Why was he so calm? Why wasn't he beating her up or raping her like all the other men who visited this room? She could only grasp a few words, 'thunder', 'cake' and 'hurt' were just a few and she blinked at the shadowy concrete flooring hoping to make sense of this one way conversation.
A gentle glow emanated from behind her whilst he spoke, it was mesmerizing as it was ethereal, like he had caught the faintest wisp of the light of a star and released it into the small room. Such a thing was impossible however and when the custom forged weapon was shoved over to her side she scrunched her brow, confused with his strange little gift. He summoned forth a source of light for her and she was now easily capable of discerning the outlines of the room alongside the minute details of the white stocking she wore. She could not help but smile now that the suffocating blackness had been quelled. Smile until she noticed the second feature of the item he had handed her...a gun. What was he doing? Expecting her to shoot him? Is that what he was saying in English? She brushed the sole of her shoe against the object, shuffling the weapon so that the trajectory of any possible bullet would miss their bodies. Lilia was not like the other agents, she disliked firearms, they were noisy and soulless creations only meant to do one thing and one thing only. Kill.
The light from the torch was a welcome asset and she quickly brushed away the moisture from her eyes using her shoulder as she became accustomed to this new setting. What do I do now...?, the fragile beauty asked herself, positioning her body so that it nestled into the curve of Eric's much more broader back. She swallowed, unsure of whether striking any conversation was worth the time it would take for them to understand one another. He had not done anything she initially thought he would've; he had not screamed at her, hit her or torn the clothes off her body...the boy had given her a source of comfort and the mere thought of her earlier assumptions left a bad taste in her mouth. "Thank you..", she whispered in English, her light melodic accent adding a welcome touch to the distinct phrase of gratitude.
Lilia paused. Gnawing on the edge of her lip as the thought of what to do then consumed her and after a momentary silence of trying to work out the polite way of dealing with things she finally made up her mind. Taking in a deep breath the ballerina gazed into the softly illuminated space in front of her, taking one last berth before she plunged into the world of attempted English with someone she had yet to label as a friend or foe. "...My name is Lilia...it's uhh...very nice to meet you..", she mumbled in her first attempt at introducing herself in English. All of those days sitting in the loungeroom with Skyler, learning English whilst watching funny american shows should of payed off and hopefully her meager skills in the art of English vernacular was enough for the young American man to understand. They never properly introduced themselves to the other and for a girl raised with a strict set of manners such a thing was seemingly necessary to start any form of mutual understanding..
Lilia sharply inhaled, clenching her jaw as she awaited whatever it is that her brooding tormenter had planned for their little stay in the darkness. It was only until his voice rang calm and clear throughout the space did the ballerina let out a relieved sigh. He did not sound angry nor was his voice unwavering or muffled...Eric was speaking to her like he thought she could understand, as if the surprisingly gentle English that rolled of his tongue could bring the fragile Russian some peace... and to an extent it was actually working. What was he saying? Why was he so calm? Why wasn't he beating her up or raping her like all the other men who visited this room? She could only grasp a few words, 'thunder', 'cake' and 'hurt' were just a few and she blinked at the shadowy concrete flooring hoping to make sense of this one way conversation.
A gentle glow emanated from behind her whilst he spoke, it was mesmerizing as it was ethereal, like he had caught the faintest wisp of the light of a star and released it into the small room. Such a thing was impossible however and when the custom forged weapon was shoved over to her side she scrunched her brow, confused with his strange little gift. He summoned forth a source of light for her and she was now easily capable of discerning the outlines of the room alongside the minute details of the white stocking she wore. She could not help but smile now that the suffocating blackness had been quelled. Smile until she noticed the second feature of the item he had handed her...a gun. What was he doing? Expecting her to shoot him? Is that what he was saying in English? She brushed the sole of her shoe against the object, shuffling the weapon so that the trajectory of any possible bullet would miss their bodies. Lilia was not like the other agents, she disliked firearms, they were noisy and soulless creations only meant to do one thing and one thing only. Kill.
The light from the torch was a welcome asset and she quickly brushed away the moisture from her eyes using her shoulder as she became accustomed to this new setting. What do I do now...?, the fragile beauty asked herself, positioning her body so that it nestled into the curve of Eric's much more broader back. She swallowed, unsure of whether striking any conversation was worth the time it would take for them to understand one another. He had not done anything she initially thought he would've; he had not screamed at her, hit her or torn the clothes off her body...the boy had given her a source of comfort and the mere thought of her earlier assumptions left a bad taste in her mouth. "Thank you..", she whispered in English, her light melodic accent adding a welcome touch to the distinct phrase of gratitude.
Lilia paused. Gnawing on the edge of her lip as the thought of what to do then consumed her and after a momentary silence of trying to work out the polite way of dealing with things she finally made up her mind. Taking in a deep breath the ballerina gazed into the softly illuminated space in front of her, taking one last berth before she plunged into the world of attempted English with someone she had yet to label as a friend or foe. "...My name is Lilia...it's uhh...very nice to meet you..", she mumbled in her first attempt at introducing herself in English. All of those days sitting in the loungeroom with Skyler, learning English whilst watching funny american shows should of payed off and hopefully her meager skills in the art of English vernacular was enough for the young American man to understand. They never properly introduced themselves to the other and for a girl raised with a strict set of manners such a thing was seemingly necessary to start any form of mutual understanding..
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
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Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 12th 2012, 2:20 pm
The awkwardness with which the girl made an attempt to introduce herself elicited a chuckle from the blacksmith. Her English really wasn't that good, but the fact she tried actually made him happy.
"Well, it's nice to meet you too. My name is Eric. Eric Sno..Atman. Eric Atman."
He quickly corrected himself, almost having slipped up on revealing his true parentage. He knew that to most, such a thing wouldn't matter, but Lilia knew his mother. She knew her better than he did even. But if she knew he was related to the very woman who has claimed her as her 'pet', as Salt told him, he might lose her trust entirely. He wasn't willing to risk that. No, she shouldn't know. Nobody needed to know. If word came out that Skyler Snowden was his mother the troopers would have even less respect of him. They'd think the only reason he was her was because of her, that she'd pulled favors to keep him alive in the organization. And that wasn't true. He was here because he was useful. They needed him, needed his talents. And that's why he belonged here.
And if his mother actually found out; Eric didn't know how she'd react. So far she had only threatened him, and made clear to him she didn't like him one bit. It was obvious she didn't know yet. Eric wanted it to remain that way, forever if possible.
The slip-up created a short silence, which he quickly tried to fill up again with more fluff-talk. "I'm sorry for hurting you before. I had to. I don't want to hurt you." Eric spoke slowly, making sure to pronounce each word perfectly so that the girl might understand better. It may have sounded a little condescending, but the purpose of his baby-talk was pure enough.
"Well, it's nice to meet you too. My name is Eric. Eric Sno..Atman. Eric Atman."
He quickly corrected himself, almost having slipped up on revealing his true parentage. He knew that to most, such a thing wouldn't matter, but Lilia knew his mother. She knew her better than he did even. But if she knew he was related to the very woman who has claimed her as her 'pet', as Salt told him, he might lose her trust entirely. He wasn't willing to risk that. No, she shouldn't know. Nobody needed to know. If word came out that Skyler Snowden was his mother the troopers would have even less respect of him. They'd think the only reason he was her was because of her, that she'd pulled favors to keep him alive in the organization. And that wasn't true. He was here because he was useful. They needed him, needed his talents. And that's why he belonged here.
And if his mother actually found out; Eric didn't know how she'd react. So far she had only threatened him, and made clear to him she didn't like him one bit. It was obvious she didn't know yet. Eric wanted it to remain that way, forever if possible.
The slip-up created a short silence, which he quickly tried to fill up again with more fluff-talk. "I'm sorry for hurting you before. I had to. I don't want to hurt you." Eric spoke slowly, making sure to pronounce each word perfectly so that the girl might understand better. It may have sounded a little condescending, but the purpose of his baby-talk was pure enough.
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Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 13th 2012, 5:35 am
Eric responded. The handcuffed ballerina let out a sigh of relief, satisfied that her meagre english could at least provide some conversation with the mysterious young man. Eric Atman, or 'Antman' as she heard it, was an interesting name resulting in the girl's lips to curl into a little grin, happy that she had at least crossed that first awkward barrier of introducing themselves. Taking in a another deep breath the girl's cerulean eyes gazed over the gentle glow of the torchlight against the interior of the room, for a place that had tormented her mind, body and soul she actually felt relatively comfortable with the little source of light. "Eric Antman..." she cooed, the gentle melodic lullaby of her voice caressing the stark environment they sat in. The silence truly was something that cushioned the awkwardness between the two but the teenager welcomed it, letting the soft rises and falls of their breathing fill her senses with a peculiar rhythm.
Eric spoke, his words were slow and drawled out, like the language adults use when speaking with toddlers and for a moment she believed he was attempting a hybrid Russian-english before realising he was merely speaking slowly to try and help her understand. The tone of his voice, the familiar words like 'sorry' and 'hurt' allowed the ballerina some scope into what he was saying...he was apologising. The ballerina pursed her lips, recalling the wounds laid out on her fragile body as she stroked the a shimmering scar on the palm of her dainty palm. This was where he plunged his sword through her, that and her thighs...but it was a mere scratch compared to the horrendous marks scouring the rest of her pale body. Taking in a deep breath Lilia closed her eyes, clearing her mind of any possible memories of the abuse laid out onto her.
"It's..it's okay...", she whispered, knowing full well that this young man was not the same monster that Salt was. In a sense he was like her, young, lost and hurt...he may not show it but she could sense it, taste the internal struggles that wracked his soul.
It was quiet, hopefully her forgiveness was being processed or at least reflected upon, he was the first man to apologise for anything and in retrospect his actions were nothing compared to other torture she had experienced. Taking this as her cue the ballerina arced her back, stretching the tense muscles that lined her dainty shoulders and petite form. Shuffling her feet from underneath her, Lilia sat cross legged as she ever so slowly leaned her body back into his broader form, nestling her head between his shoulder blades as she sighed..getting comfortable for what could possibly be a very long stay inside the locked room..
Eric spoke, his words were slow and drawled out, like the language adults use when speaking with toddlers and for a moment she believed he was attempting a hybrid Russian-english before realising he was merely speaking slowly to try and help her understand. The tone of his voice, the familiar words like 'sorry' and 'hurt' allowed the ballerina some scope into what he was saying...he was apologising. The ballerina pursed her lips, recalling the wounds laid out on her fragile body as she stroked the a shimmering scar on the palm of her dainty palm. This was where he plunged his sword through her, that and her thighs...but it was a mere scratch compared to the horrendous marks scouring the rest of her pale body. Taking in a deep breath Lilia closed her eyes, clearing her mind of any possible memories of the abuse laid out onto her.
"It's..it's okay...", she whispered, knowing full well that this young man was not the same monster that Salt was. In a sense he was like her, young, lost and hurt...he may not show it but she could sense it, taste the internal struggles that wracked his soul.
It was quiet, hopefully her forgiveness was being processed or at least reflected upon, he was the first man to apologise for anything and in retrospect his actions were nothing compared to other torture she had experienced. Taking this as her cue the ballerina arced her back, stretching the tense muscles that lined her dainty shoulders and petite form. Shuffling her feet from underneath her, Lilia sat cross legged as she ever so slowly leaned her body back into his broader form, nestling her head between his shoulder blades as she sighed..getting comfortable for what could possibly be a very long stay inside the locked room..
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
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Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 15th 2012, 4:51 am
Eric was going to correct Lilia's pronunciation of his surname, but managed to stop himself from making such a patronising remark. This really wasn't the best timing to lecture her on proper pronunciation of names and words that were completely foreign to her. Besides, the way she said it, so full of...love? No, he must've been mistaken. The deprivation of light had gotten to him, making him hear things. He once learned that communication is 90% body language, and speech plays a far smaller role that one would initially think. He was just hearing things, that's right.
The young man's doubts only increased when, upon hearing his apologies, Lilia whispered soft words of forgiveness. He had never heard sweeter words. Despite his insistence that the act had been unavoidable, that his hand had been forced by survival instinct, Eric had carried the guilt for all these weeks. He had begun to reconsider his actions, even those unrelated to the event. Had it been wrong of him to join a gang and operated as their personal arms manufacturer? Was he evil for cooperating with this shadowy organisation that had abducted him and inflicted so much pain on this girl, and most likely many others?
But now he had been absolved from sin, freed from doubt and guilt. He was free again.
Lilia leaned into his back and nestled her head on his shoulder; she had surrendered herself to him completely.
And for that brief moment, Eric did no longer feel alone on this world.
The young man's doubts only increased when, upon hearing his apologies, Lilia whispered soft words of forgiveness. He had never heard sweeter words. Despite his insistence that the act had been unavoidable, that his hand had been forced by survival instinct, Eric had carried the guilt for all these weeks. He had begun to reconsider his actions, even those unrelated to the event. Had it been wrong of him to join a gang and operated as their personal arms manufacturer? Was he evil for cooperating with this shadowy organisation that had abducted him and inflicted so much pain on this girl, and most likely many others?
But now he had been absolved from sin, freed from doubt and guilt. He was free again.
Lilia leaned into his back and nestled her head on his shoulder; she had surrendered herself to him completely.
And for that brief moment, Eric did no longer feel alone on this world.
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Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 15th 2012, 6:07 am
The low hum of a backup generator buzzed to life in the hallways outside, it was a meager source of light compared to what was normally operating but enough that very faint glow edged it's way under the door. This resurgence of power was unfortunately only operating in the major areas within the base and no sign of life seemed to sputter back into the training room. They were still without proper light and the lack of air-conditioning was causing slight slivers of perspiration to form on Lilia's small frame. The rising humidity, dull lighting and the constant melody of their combined breathing created a rather peculiar situation. It was true that the ballerina was an exceedingly kind and lovable girl but there was a nagging urgency that panicked in the unreachable pits of her soul, its shrill voice wracking her conscious with fear and doubt. Could she really trust this boy? Would his hormones take charge like the rest of her tormentors? Did Skyler know of her current situation? Such questions flicked across her mind, threatening to disrupt the relative comfort she was experiencing against Eric's form.
Closing her eyes and pursing her peachy lips into a thin line the young agent attempted to clear her mind of everything that would derail her current state of peace. The thoughts of her silver haired guardian and all of the fun moments they shared was the recurring theme that crossed her mind. This meditation on what was good and true lasted for a fairly impressive amount of time and it was only until several minutes had passed did the harsh reality return.
Shadowy outlines of three pairs of feet flickered around the soft shaft of light creeping underneath the door, familiar voices sniggered and muttered behind the closed door, penetrating the comfortable silence the two young agents were currently enjoying. These voices were familiar, too familiar. Lilia strained her ears, hoping the owners of these words were not who she thought it would be...praying that it was merely the maintenance man or some other placid Dominus employee. But she was wrong. Her name was spoken, her name mixed with feral English words and it was then that the dormant terror returned, causing the meek girl to insinctively curl into a ball, her breathing becoming quicker and much more shallow...her body was naturally reacting to the threat that lurked behind the door..
"Hey do you think she's alone or something? I heard Salters had thrown her in there for Smithy" a voice harshly whispered, the sound of something scraping against the cold, hard metal rung into the room.
"How the fuck should I know? I haven't seen that tight little body of hers in ages.."
"I know right! That dominatrix bitch is one fucking lucky lady...why would Salt even give our little slut away like that? , the sound of metal against metal rang through the room. The door began to heave off its automatic hinges.
"Heh did you hear that Lilia's mistress is apparently Smithy's mum? How fucked up is that? Mother and son fucking the same cherry.."
"...I don't think he's even done anything with her yet. Fucking pussy wasting a good opportunity..", something was pressed against the handle of the door. Lilia whimpered.
"He was obviously not at last year's Christmas party, remember that outfit Salt put on her? Best shit ever...and then she had to dance with that other metawhore.." there was a pause, something was beginning to breach the lock on the door, "Yeah just push it there. We should probably lock it once we get inside...don't want Division K walking in on us..", the voices all chuckled in unison.
"Fuck man, I'm keen for some little ballerina pussy. Haven't had her in my diet after she left and that firegirl died... , a popping sound is heard, the door moans from the forced pressure.
"C'mon wait in line! She wasn't here for my birthday last week so I get first call!", a low buzz emanates from within the lock on the door: "Fuck yes! See that boys, that is how you break into a room..", there was sarcastic sneering and a confident laugh. Lilia was hyperventilating, not these three...anyone but these three. The most foul, deranged and twisted agents to ever tarnish her young body..the mere sound of their voices had her frozen in her spot, limbs trembled with fear for the incoming arrival...
The door swung open and three silhouettes forced their way into the dark room, slamming the door after they had entered. Three demons. Three men whose loyalty existed only to Franklin Salters and their personal desires...three men who haunted her nightmares and the darkest crevices of her fragile mind. She could not understand them but their malevolent sneering gazes was more than enough to elicit panicked whimpers to escape her dry throat.
"Aww shit! Smithy's already here, haha getting her warmed up for us aye?"
Had Eric planned this all along?
Closing her eyes and pursing her peachy lips into a thin line the young agent attempted to clear her mind of everything that would derail her current state of peace. The thoughts of her silver haired guardian and all of the fun moments they shared was the recurring theme that crossed her mind. This meditation on what was good and true lasted for a fairly impressive amount of time and it was only until several minutes had passed did the harsh reality return.
Shadowy outlines of three pairs of feet flickered around the soft shaft of light creeping underneath the door, familiar voices sniggered and muttered behind the closed door, penetrating the comfortable silence the two young agents were currently enjoying. These voices were familiar, too familiar. Lilia strained her ears, hoping the owners of these words were not who she thought it would be...praying that it was merely the maintenance man or some other placid Dominus employee. But she was wrong. Her name was spoken, her name mixed with feral English words and it was then that the dormant terror returned, causing the meek girl to insinctively curl into a ball, her breathing becoming quicker and much more shallow...her body was naturally reacting to the threat that lurked behind the door..
"Hey do you think she's alone or something? I heard Salters had thrown her in there for Smithy" a voice harshly whispered, the sound of something scraping against the cold, hard metal rung into the room.
"How the fuck should I know? I haven't seen that tight little body of hers in ages.."
"I know right! That dominatrix bitch is one fucking lucky lady...why would Salt even give our little slut away like that? , the sound of metal against metal rang through the room. The door began to heave off its automatic hinges.
"Heh did you hear that Lilia's mistress is apparently Smithy's mum? How fucked up is that? Mother and son fucking the same cherry.."
"...I don't think he's even done anything with her yet. Fucking pussy wasting a good opportunity..", something was pressed against the handle of the door. Lilia whimpered.
"He was obviously not at last year's Christmas party, remember that outfit Salt put on her? Best shit ever...and then she had to dance with that other metawhore.." there was a pause, something was beginning to breach the lock on the door, "Yeah just push it there. We should probably lock it once we get inside...don't want Division K walking in on us..", the voices all chuckled in unison.
"Fuck man, I'm keen for some little ballerina pussy. Haven't had her in my diet after she left and that firegirl died... , a popping sound is heard, the door moans from the forced pressure.
"C'mon wait in line! She wasn't here for my birthday last week so I get first call!", a low buzz emanates from within the lock on the door: "Fuck yes! See that boys, that is how you break into a room..", there was sarcastic sneering and a confident laugh. Lilia was hyperventilating, not these three...anyone but these three. The most foul, deranged and twisted agents to ever tarnish her young body..the mere sound of their voices had her frozen in her spot, limbs trembled with fear for the incoming arrival...
The door swung open and three silhouettes forced their way into the dark room, slamming the door after they had entered. Three demons. Three men whose loyalty existed only to Franklin Salters and their personal desires...three men who haunted her nightmares and the darkest crevices of her fragile mind. She could not understand them but their malevolent sneering gazes was more than enough to elicit panicked whimpers to escape her dry throat.
"Aww shit! Smithy's already here, haha getting her warmed up for us aye?"
Had Eric planned this all along?
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
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Quote : Hard as diamonds, soft as silk
Warnings :
Number of posts : 309
Location : Australia
Age : 31
Registration date : 2012-05-24
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 17th 2012, 3:38 pm
His uniform stuck to his body, having grown moist from transpiration. The air around them was stale and unwelcoming, the smell of their combined body odors invaded his nostrils. Despite that, they sat huddled up against each other, back to back, bodies entwined. And frankly, Eric couldn't care less. For once he was exactly where he wanted to be. But as all things come to pass, this rare moment of tranquility and contentment would be short-lived, and would make place for a myriad of negative and turbulent emotions.
Eric's eyes snapped open when the soft humming of the backup generator started, and light returned to the hallway beyond the room he was in. He jumped up from his position when footsteps and voices approached, unsure of what to expect. Would it be Salt and his cronies, come to retrieve their plaything, to take her from him?
When the voices became louder, and them to whom they belonged approached the door, Eric and Lilia could hear precisely what they were saying.
Lilia's response was to curl up in a ball, a whimpering little mess of feelings, fearing the prospect of becoming a will-less meat-puppet once again. To be at the mercy of these vile, depraved men, mockeries of human nature, reflections of all we hold as evil.
Eric's response however, though defiant in nature and showing of a previously hidden determination and heart, was far less wise. Their insulting him, his mother, and most of all their blatant disregard for Lilia's feelings, had ignited a fuse within him. And while it may have been within his nature to lash out to any and all who criticized or ridiculed him, this only applied to those weaker then him. These men were trained killers, armed with state of the art experimental military equipment.
Equipment he had been making for the last few weeks. With a flash of light, Eric instantly had himself armed with an exact copy of the standard Dominus laser-rifle, which he promptly began to wave around at them in a threatening manner while telling them to...well, fuck off.
"Shut your filthy mouths you vicious mongrels! Get the fuck out of here before I end your miserable lives! She was given to me, you have no fucking right to take her!" Eric yelled, the programming that regulated his feelings for the sake of his survival having crashed and burned down.
Eric's eyes snapped open when the soft humming of the backup generator started, and light returned to the hallway beyond the room he was in. He jumped up from his position when footsteps and voices approached, unsure of what to expect. Would it be Salt and his cronies, come to retrieve their plaything, to take her from him?
When the voices became louder, and them to whom they belonged approached the door, Eric and Lilia could hear precisely what they were saying.
Lilia's response was to curl up in a ball, a whimpering little mess of feelings, fearing the prospect of becoming a will-less meat-puppet once again. To be at the mercy of these vile, depraved men, mockeries of human nature, reflections of all we hold as evil.
Eric's response however, though defiant in nature and showing of a previously hidden determination and heart, was far less wise. Their insulting him, his mother, and most of all their blatant disregard for Lilia's feelings, had ignited a fuse within him. And while it may have been within his nature to lash out to any and all who criticized or ridiculed him, this only applied to those weaker then him. These men were trained killers, armed with state of the art experimental military equipment.
Equipment he had been making for the last few weeks. With a flash of light, Eric instantly had himself armed with an exact copy of the standard Dominus laser-rifle, which he promptly began to wave around at them in a threatening manner while telling them to...well, fuck off.
"Shut your filthy mouths you vicious mongrels! Get the fuck out of here before I end your miserable lives! She was given to me, you have no fucking right to take her!" Eric yelled, the programming that regulated his feelings for the sake of his survival having crashed and burned down.
Blacksmith- Status :
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Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.
Warnings :
Number of posts : 47
Registration date : 2012-01-14
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 17th 2012, 5:53 pm
Lilia stared helplessly, watching as Eric valiantly albeit foolishly stepped forward to confront the three agents. She should have told him to stop, why didn't she beg him to halt his hopeless advance against three men far more superior than he was...the girl could only manage to tearfully spread her fingers out to him...desperate to take him away from the three vile offenders, but her body refused to move; left in a state of dread as she witnessed Eric and all of his 'bravery' face the trio of agents. "No...", her voice cracked, panicky from the stress of merely having the boy go against these men, he was foolish, silly to think he could hurt them...everytime she attempted to repel them in the past their vicious assaults had only become more violent and relentless and the girl had the scars to prove it. She knew full well what they were capable of.
The tallest man, possibly in his late twenties was her most avid 'fan', a vile, foul-mouthed Franklin Salters Fanboy who often subjected the ballerina to a whole array of horrid situations. This man enjoyed tormenting her and merely seeing the girl in such a state of shock had his hormones racing, the primal urge to dominate bubbled in the core of his tainted soul and no idiotic wannabe was going to stand in his way."Smithy! Didn't your mother ever tell you to share?", the man deviously said, enjoying the irony of his comment, completely unfazed with the weapon pointed at him."C'mon a little pussy like you ain't shit, you and your 'weapons' can go suck on my left nut!", he cackled, stepping forward fearlessly until the barrel of the weapon touched his chest, "Salt ain't gonna protect you here kid..", and with that a reinforced kneecap rammed upwards into Eric's manhood, a shameful move that had the young man instantly crumple to his feet. "LOOK AT YOU NOW 'BLACKSMITH', WHERE'S YOUR MUMMY? SCARED YOU HAVE TO SHARE YOUR LITTLE GIRLFRIEND NOW?" the man hollered, the steel cap boot swinging into Eric's stomach. The groans of pain had all the men chuckling, such a pitiful excuse for a man they thought...even worse was the fact that he was a metahuman. The grinning man leaned downwards, making sure Eric caught his gaze and in a malicious, mocking tone the man uttered words that fully embodied the evil that wracked his morality, "Oh you better believe me..this little slut of yours is Dominus property. She's no better than the men's toilet down the hallway. I will make sure you're conscious enough to her her scream and cry, calling for help when help is cradling his balls. You better enjoy the show.."
With a swift nod of his head at his two accomplices, the man instantly stalked over to the quivering ballerina leaving Eric's body in the 'care' of the two other agents who eagerly pummeled the young man like a ragdoll. Lilia on the other hand was left helpless, silently sobbing as she witnesse the sheer brutality against the young man...all because he tried protecting her. The young agents limbs were weak, her eyes bubbling with hot tears that painted her face with the utter hopelessness she was feeling at that moment. She could feel the man's breath against her skin as he leaned downwards, inspecting the goods that he had yearned to enjoy for all those months without any proper entertainment...and now she was back. The girl who fulfilled all of his demented desires. The mere fact that she was already shackled sent his urges on a high, she was giftwrapped for his taking and he salivated in vile joy as his hands eagerly traversed what was not his to touch.
"It's been too long, I've had to resort to all your old cellmates to get me off while you were away...too bad they're all dead now.", he whispered in Lilia's ear, letting his tongue caress the soft milky flesh of her cheek before continuing his horrid monologue,"You weren't even here for my birthday last week...you've always been there for my birthday.." his words were like sewerage plunging into the depths of her pure waters, poisoning her mind with utter disgust and dread. She could not understand him, she never could but why would she in the first place when her body shook with fear, her heart was beating til it hurt and her mind was crumbling...every lingering touch on her body brought more shame, more anguish and more terror.
"Why are you wearing clothes? You know I hate that..", the horrid creature uttered, making quick work of her once spotless and clean outfit with his knife, leaving her as bare as the day she was born. Lilia was exposed to these vile men and she hated that, her skin was flushed with utter shame for being abused like so...and yet that wasn't the worst part. All of the scars that marked her pale skin were now completely visible to Eric, her shameful past was now open for him to see...she felt ugly. She felt like a piece of meat. No matter where she escaped to, no matter who was there protecting her, was she always going to have this role forced onto her? Was there no end to this hell?
***
They never stopped. There was no end to the depraved acts they eagerly laid out onto her. Every action was a well placed movement aiming to elicit more pain and terror for her and giddy pleasure for the monstrous trio. She tried to scream for help, but her voice was a strangled sobbing mess of sound. She called for Skyler, but her voice never penetrated the exterior of the room. She screamed for Eric, equally terrified that he had died all that while praying that he had survived and did not have the horror of witnessing what was happening to her. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days as she was relentlessy tortured in the worst way a teenage girl could possibly be tortured. Her heart was screaming for rest whilst her tongue screamed for mercy, the shackles on her wrists cutting deep into her veins leaving her a sobbing, bleeding mess. She fell in and out of consciousness, their vicious assault on her form always bringing her back for another round of torture. She pleaded for release, begged for death rather than go through with this...but her voice fell on deaf ears. It always did.
***
Time was at a standstill. Two forms lay broken and bleeding in the dark room that only ever brought pain. The demons had fled back into the metal maze, their sins washed away with the light that embraced their exit from the room. Satisfaction was all they felt, the group effort had payed off and the trio walked away with heads high and bodies buzzing with adrenaline. They had left Eric a bleeding, bruise corpse...keeping the poor young man conscious enough to make him watch their beastly assault, their defilement of purity in human form and their ecstatic joy of tearing away what was not theirs.
The girl on the other was left to die. Her flesh had been torn at and her petite form was but a broken fragment of what it had been before the assault. She was covered in blood and filth, her mind drifting between the realms of life and death...it was hopeless, her body was rendered into nothing more than a pile of broken bones and a shattered mind. Her body hurt, there was no part of her form that did not burn with terror and grief. Every inch of her pale soft skin had been repeatedly defiled by the three men. Blood trickled down the length of her bare legs, the red liquid screaming a silent ballad for the innocence that was torn away...for the life that had been shredded in those hours of twisted glee and ecstasy and for the obliteration of a soul that had only begun to slowly bloom into beauty...only to be torn away like a flower in a hurricane..
Was there no end to this hell?
The tallest man, possibly in his late twenties was her most avid 'fan', a vile, foul-mouthed Franklin Salters Fanboy who often subjected the ballerina to a whole array of horrid situations. This man enjoyed tormenting her and merely seeing the girl in such a state of shock had his hormones racing, the primal urge to dominate bubbled in the core of his tainted soul and no idiotic wannabe was going to stand in his way."Smithy! Didn't your mother ever tell you to share?", the man deviously said, enjoying the irony of his comment, completely unfazed with the weapon pointed at him."C'mon a little pussy like you ain't shit, you and your 'weapons' can go suck on my left nut!", he cackled, stepping forward fearlessly until the barrel of the weapon touched his chest, "Salt ain't gonna protect you here kid..", and with that a reinforced kneecap rammed upwards into Eric's manhood, a shameful move that had the young man instantly crumple to his feet. "LOOK AT YOU NOW 'BLACKSMITH', WHERE'S YOUR MUMMY? SCARED YOU HAVE TO SHARE YOUR LITTLE GIRLFRIEND NOW?" the man hollered, the steel cap boot swinging into Eric's stomach. The groans of pain had all the men chuckling, such a pitiful excuse for a man they thought...even worse was the fact that he was a metahuman. The grinning man leaned downwards, making sure Eric caught his gaze and in a malicious, mocking tone the man uttered words that fully embodied the evil that wracked his morality, "Oh you better believe me..this little slut of yours is Dominus property. She's no better than the men's toilet down the hallway. I will make sure you're conscious enough to her her scream and cry, calling for help when help is cradling his balls. You better enjoy the show.."
With a swift nod of his head at his two accomplices, the man instantly stalked over to the quivering ballerina leaving Eric's body in the 'care' of the two other agents who eagerly pummeled the young man like a ragdoll. Lilia on the other hand was left helpless, silently sobbing as she witnesse the sheer brutality against the young man...all because he tried protecting her. The young agents limbs were weak, her eyes bubbling with hot tears that painted her face with the utter hopelessness she was feeling at that moment. She could feel the man's breath against her skin as he leaned downwards, inspecting the goods that he had yearned to enjoy for all those months without any proper entertainment...and now she was back. The girl who fulfilled all of his demented desires. The mere fact that she was already shackled sent his urges on a high, she was giftwrapped for his taking and he salivated in vile joy as his hands eagerly traversed what was not his to touch.
"It's been too long, I've had to resort to all your old cellmates to get me off while you were away...too bad they're all dead now.", he whispered in Lilia's ear, letting his tongue caress the soft milky flesh of her cheek before continuing his horrid monologue,"You weren't even here for my birthday last week...you've always been there for my birthday.." his words were like sewerage plunging into the depths of her pure waters, poisoning her mind with utter disgust and dread. She could not understand him, she never could but why would she in the first place when her body shook with fear, her heart was beating til it hurt and her mind was crumbling...every lingering touch on her body brought more shame, more anguish and more terror.
"Why are you wearing clothes? You know I hate that..", the horrid creature uttered, making quick work of her once spotless and clean outfit with his knife, leaving her as bare as the day she was born. Lilia was exposed to these vile men and she hated that, her skin was flushed with utter shame for being abused like so...and yet that wasn't the worst part. All of the scars that marked her pale skin were now completely visible to Eric, her shameful past was now open for him to see...she felt ugly. She felt like a piece of meat. No matter where she escaped to, no matter who was there protecting her, was she always going to have this role forced onto her? Was there no end to this hell?
***
They never stopped. There was no end to the depraved acts they eagerly laid out onto her. Every action was a well placed movement aiming to elicit more pain and terror for her and giddy pleasure for the monstrous trio. She tried to scream for help, but her voice was a strangled sobbing mess of sound. She called for Skyler, but her voice never penetrated the exterior of the room. She screamed for Eric, equally terrified that he had died all that while praying that he had survived and did not have the horror of witnessing what was happening to her. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days as she was relentlessy tortured in the worst way a teenage girl could possibly be tortured. Her heart was screaming for rest whilst her tongue screamed for mercy, the shackles on her wrists cutting deep into her veins leaving her a sobbing, bleeding mess. She fell in and out of consciousness, their vicious assault on her form always bringing her back for another round of torture. She pleaded for release, begged for death rather than go through with this...but her voice fell on deaf ears. It always did.
***
Time was at a standstill. Two forms lay broken and bleeding in the dark room that only ever brought pain. The demons had fled back into the metal maze, their sins washed away with the light that embraced their exit from the room. Satisfaction was all they felt, the group effort had payed off and the trio walked away with heads high and bodies buzzing with adrenaline. They had left Eric a bleeding, bruise corpse...keeping the poor young man conscious enough to make him watch their beastly assault, their defilement of purity in human form and their ecstatic joy of tearing away what was not theirs.
The girl on the other was left to die. Her flesh had been torn at and her petite form was but a broken fragment of what it had been before the assault. She was covered in blood and filth, her mind drifting between the realms of life and death...it was hopeless, her body was rendered into nothing more than a pile of broken bones and a shattered mind. Her body hurt, there was no part of her form that did not burn with terror and grief. Every inch of her pale soft skin had been repeatedly defiled by the three men. Blood trickled down the length of her bare legs, the red liquid screaming a silent ballad for the innocence that was torn away...for the life that had been shredded in those hours of twisted glee and ecstasy and for the obliteration of a soul that had only begun to slowly bloom into beauty...only to be torn away like a flower in a hurricane..
Was there no end to this hell?
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : Hard as diamonds, soft as silk
Warnings :
Number of posts : 309
Location : Australia
Age : 31
Registration date : 2012-05-24
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 17th 2012, 6:05 pm
OOC: [Well wasn't that brutal? Bet you peepz totally didn't expect that one, didya? Ok, maybe you did. Morbid little fuckers.
I think that by going through all this, our protagonist just earned back the right to self-narrate. Probably not much comfort, considering he's half-dead....again. But still, gesture's gotta mean something to him. Or not, seeing as he's not really aware of the self-narration since it's more of a literary technique than an actual....oh what the hell, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I mean, why am I even writing this little OOC segment in the first place, and in the voice of Jack Maroon to boot. Man, this shit is wack. Let's just get back to mister pouty being bloody, bruised and beaten. Right. Sounds like a plan.]
BIC:
My ears are ringing. I've fallen down, blown to the ground by the concussive force of the explosion. What explosion? The guards posted at my door, or at least where there used to be a door, are dead. What guards? There's no one else. I gather up the strength to move and crawl towards the remains of my desk, seeking refuge from the chaos. Hiding again? A moment to catch my breath. I try to collect my thoughts, get back to my senses. You're already there. Panic's hit me pretty hard, and I'm breathing heavily. You're barely breathing. I try to suppress a sob, but fail miserably. You coward. You really are a coward, aren't you, boy?
What a fucking mess. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. It was going to be great. My life was going to be so much better.
I thought I'd make things different. Thought I'd earn the respect I deserved; use my powers of armament-materialization to become real big. I thought I had it all figured out. Join a gang in post-Necrodium New York and help them rise to power. Expand operations, reform organization to cater to the needs of high profile clients. Cheap weaponry, assassinations, bodyguards. I wanted to get into the industry, find a niche in the market, exploit it with my god-given little cheat against reality.And now I'm here, sitting upon the wreckage of my hopes and dreams. Here again.
I'm staring out at an endless void, sitting on marble rock floating through the vast expanse of...me. That's what this is, I think. All that is, was and could ever be...me. Me.
My hair is wet, dripping blood down into eternity. That's probably because of the wounds. I'm wearing the tattered Dominus uniform, with my emblem ripped off.
I see a fire far away in the distance, accompanied the faint sound of a hammer pounding on steel. I've dreamt of that sound before I think. It sounds very familiar, resonating throughout this world that is supposed to represent the entirety of my being, growing ever louder as my consciousness fixates on it.
There is nothing but empty space and me. Everything is else is a but a thought, a specter of my imagination, run out of control. That's what my power is too. I dream of greatness, of holding power above other men, and being feared and respected for it. I dream of strength, and my mind conjures up the means to this end; a means to power. Tools made for destroying, tools that can pave my way to glory. Weapons. Weapons..
And yet I fail. Why do I fail? Perhaps it is not the weapons that are weak, but it is I who am simply unable to wield them.
You fail because you lack imagination. You fail because you are afraid of what you can do.
That booming voice, masculine and full of strength stampedes through the darkness, the distant flame growing and brightening as it speaks truth. A hammer, beating on hot steel, shaping it, molding it to its will, revealing the weak spots and straightening them out. I've never shot a man. Let alone cut one. Maybe I've punched a few people, roughed them up. But that was more play than combat. Not once have I wielded my weapons to fight. Fight for what?
To fight for....for what I want. For what's precious to me.
And what's that?
The girl springs up in my mind, her radiant beauty, meek kindness and that gentle loving voice that could yank his heart from the chest if it but desired to. Then conquer her, protect her. Make her yours.
How am I supposed to do that? She's beyond my reach, she doesn't even speak my language, and, and, she's what got me in this mess in the first place! She nearly killed me, and I forgave her. Now I try to protect her, and I die again? What's there to gain?
Is that really it?
Images of the girl being desecrated, memories of being bloodied, beaten and humiliated. Pain inflicted on my body on mind, torture in its crudest and most debased form. They took what I wanted; took it and warped it into something vile, defiled my dream, shattered my hope. And now.....now....now all is lost...
Then fight for it.
How?
You do what you do best.
And what's that supposed to mean? I should make weapons for other people? Find allies? Have them kill my enemies?
No. You do what you've always done.
And what's then, praytell? I know damn well what I can do. I just make weapons, no, I replicate them from memory and materialize them into this world. It's not fucking rocket science!
You dream a dream, and with your hands forge the means to make that dream a reality. And then you take it in your hands and make it so.
.......
I want to make them pay for what they did.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Slowly the world around me regains form, and the light enters my eyes. This is the Dominus medical wing. I've been here before. I'm in the hospital ward, lying in a bed. I'm still hurt pretty badly. Can't move. Don't want to. Hurts too much. My mind is dulled, and I can't form coherent thoughts. Not even fully remember anything, or feel strongly about it. Just...curiosity. What happened afterwards? Is Lilia alright? Did I die?
No, I didn't. I'm right here. I.....
I drift back into merciful slumber, resting my mind from the storm that has passed. And preparing it for the one that is to come.
I think that by going through all this, our protagonist just earned back the right to self-narrate. Probably not much comfort, considering he's half-dead....again. But still, gesture's gotta mean something to him. Or not, seeing as he's not really aware of the self-narration since it's more of a literary technique than an actual....oh what the hell, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I mean, why am I even writing this little OOC segment in the first place, and in the voice of Jack Maroon to boot. Man, this shit is wack. Let's just get back to mister pouty being bloody, bruised and beaten. Right. Sounds like a plan.]
BIC:
The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.
-Ferdinand Foch
-Ferdinand Foch
My ears are ringing. I've fallen down, blown to the ground by the concussive force of the explosion. What explosion? The guards posted at my door, or at least where there used to be a door, are dead. What guards? There's no one else. I gather up the strength to move and crawl towards the remains of my desk, seeking refuge from the chaos. Hiding again? A moment to catch my breath. I try to collect my thoughts, get back to my senses. You're already there. Panic's hit me pretty hard, and I'm breathing heavily. You're barely breathing. I try to suppress a sob, but fail miserably. You coward. You really are a coward, aren't you, boy?
What a fucking mess. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. It was going to be great. My life was going to be so much better.
I thought I'd make things different. Thought I'd earn the respect I deserved; use my powers of armament-materialization to become real big. I thought I had it all figured out. Join a gang in post-Necrodium New York and help them rise to power. Expand operations, reform organization to cater to the needs of high profile clients. Cheap weaponry, assassinations, bodyguards. I wanted to get into the industry, find a niche in the market, exploit it with my god-given little cheat against reality.And now I'm here, sitting upon the wreckage of my hopes and dreams. Here again.
I'm staring out at an endless void, sitting on marble rock floating through the vast expanse of...me. That's what this is, I think. All that is, was and could ever be...me. Me.
My hair is wet, dripping blood down into eternity. That's probably because of the wounds. I'm wearing the tattered Dominus uniform, with my emblem ripped off.
I see a fire far away in the distance, accompanied the faint sound of a hammer pounding on steel. I've dreamt of that sound before I think. It sounds very familiar, resonating throughout this world that is supposed to represent the entirety of my being, growing ever louder as my consciousness fixates on it.
There is nothing but empty space and me. Everything is else is a but a thought, a specter of my imagination, run out of control. That's what my power is too. I dream of greatness, of holding power above other men, and being feared and respected for it. I dream of strength, and my mind conjures up the means to this end; a means to power. Tools made for destroying, tools that can pave my way to glory. Weapons. Weapons..
And yet I fail. Why do I fail? Perhaps it is not the weapons that are weak, but it is I who am simply unable to wield them.
You fail because you lack imagination. You fail because you are afraid of what you can do.
That booming voice, masculine and full of strength stampedes through the darkness, the distant flame growing and brightening as it speaks truth. A hammer, beating on hot steel, shaping it, molding it to its will, revealing the weak spots and straightening them out. I've never shot a man. Let alone cut one. Maybe I've punched a few people, roughed them up. But that was more play than combat. Not once have I wielded my weapons to fight. Fight for what?
To fight for....for what I want. For what's precious to me.
And what's that?
The girl springs up in my mind, her radiant beauty, meek kindness and that gentle loving voice that could yank his heart from the chest if it but desired to. Then conquer her, protect her. Make her yours.
How am I supposed to do that? She's beyond my reach, she doesn't even speak my language, and, and, she's what got me in this mess in the first place! She nearly killed me, and I forgave her. Now I try to protect her, and I die again? What's there to gain?
Is that really it?
Images of the girl being desecrated, memories of being bloodied, beaten and humiliated. Pain inflicted on my body on mind, torture in its crudest and most debased form. They took what I wanted; took it and warped it into something vile, defiled my dream, shattered my hope. And now.....now....now all is lost...
Then fight for it.
How?
You do what you do best.
And what's that supposed to mean? I should make weapons for other people? Find allies? Have them kill my enemies?
No. You do what you've always done.
And what's then, praytell? I know damn well what I can do. I just make weapons, no, I replicate them from memory and materialize them into this world. It's not fucking rocket science!
You dream a dream, and with your hands forge the means to make that dream a reality. And then you take it in your hands and make it so.
.......
I want to make them pay for what they did.
Then kill them. Kill them all.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Slowly the world around me regains form, and the light enters my eyes. This is the Dominus medical wing. I've been here before. I'm in the hospital ward, lying in a bed. I'm still hurt pretty badly. Can't move. Don't want to. Hurts too much. My mind is dulled, and I can't form coherent thoughts. Not even fully remember anything, or feel strongly about it. Just...curiosity. What happened afterwards? Is Lilia alright? Did I die?
No, I didn't. I'm right here. I.....
I drift back into merciful slumber, resting my mind from the storm that has passed. And preparing it for the one that is to come.
Blacksmith- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.
Warnings :
Number of posts : 47
Registration date : 2012-01-14
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Chellizard November 18th 2012, 9:32 am
Vacation without Lilia felt.. wrong, but after the first twelve hours of reading in the library with Uncle Cornelius, she felt better. Amelie was a handful, but she was a fun child to be around. So bossy and flamboyant. Despite Skyler having fun, she kept her mind lingering on the thought of Eric and Lilia being alone together. If she was right, Eric wouldn't hurt Lilia. Not on purpose, at least. Eric still shared flesh and blood with Skyler, and by extension, part of her personality. At least, that's what Skyler believed. The three long days were agonizingly slow, even if they were filled with fun and enlightenment from Uncle Cornelius. On the last day, he insisted on giving presents to Lilia and Eric. Yes, Skyler had told Uncle Corn the story of her long lost child, and that ripped his heart a bit, and she even witnessed a tear slide down his cheek. It was odd, but she loved being with her actual family for once. Her blood relatives, people who knew the magic in her veins.
"Well, it's back to Alaska, Uncle Corn," she said, sighing as she plucked herself from a large leather recliner. She dusted her skirt and shrugged a backpack around her shoulders. "Before you go, I have something for both of your children, my dear," he said, his cheery tone never breaking while his beard flicked as if it had a mind of it's own. He shuffled around the desk he was sitting at and presented a crystalline Ballerina figurine, and an older looking pocket watch and chain. "I hope they like their gifts; you can tell them you purchased them from an old thrift shop.. No need getting Uncle Corn involved in this mess." He laughed, and Amelié chirped from her perch about her wanting some chocolate milk, and not to forget the squiggly straw! Skyler laughed and hugged her Uncle, and then the adorable Amelié that came running to cling to Skyler's legs. "Ne partez pas! S'il vous plaît ne partez pas!" (Don't go yet! Please don't go!) whined Amelié, her thoughts of that chocolate milk vanishing for a moment.
"Je serai de retour avant de commencer à me manque, mon Amelié doux." (I will be back before you start missing me, my sweet Amelié.) Skyler cooed, her French having been a bit rusty until she was back around Amelié and her sassy attitude. She kissed the top of the child's head and carefully took hold of the glass figurine and pocket watch. They both felt fragile in her grasp, and as ironic as that was, she ignored it and just cradled them with care. Once Skyler had crossed the threshold of the library, Amelié was back to demanding chocolate milk with a squiggly straw. A soft giggle passed Skyler's lips, but then she sighed. She would miss her relatives, even her sour faced younger brother, Anthony.
--
The trip to Alaska was shorter than she expected, a helicopter having picked her up at a remote location. She had taken a taxi to reach the lone coordinates, and waited patiently, admiring the figurine and watch. It was a wind up watch, and it had an engraving on it. A small symbol that looked to be a heart with a crown etched around of it. It was odd, but it also said something in Latin. 'Pro amico,' or 'For a friend' is what it translated to. But.. who would sign with a heart wearing a pointed crown? What an odd little mystery, but the watch was beautiful, and Eric would likely love it, even if he pretended not to. She took a deep breath and took the shallow steps off of the helicopter and dashed to get out of the propellers range. She was greeted by Franklin Salters, his form slipping out of a car that pulled up almost simultaneously with her landing.
"You're back, too, bitch?" he asked, his yellow teeth being licked by his tongue while his impulsive attitude leaked from every pore on his body. Skyler rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Obviously," she said dryly, her attention turning toward a Dominus soldier that came to greet them. "Agent Blacksmith and Agent Etoile are likely eager for their masters' returns," the soldier wheezed, an annoying raspy voice masked by the Dominus suit. Skyler nodded and let her act fall lazily into play. "My pet better have had the most fun she's ever had. I doubt any man could defile her like I do. I can make her scream without even touching her.." she said, her voice becoming smaller and devilish. She then shrugged and batted her lashes, the solider walking to lead them toward the training room. "Bullshit," Salt spat, tipping a flask to his dry lips to wet his leathery tongue.
The corner they turned that lead to the training room door was busted and left cracked open. Skyler figured they had just opened the door for Salt and herself to enter, but it being busted lead her heart into a thumping race. She fished out the small gifts for Lilia and Eric, both hands clutching the items independently, and carefully. Salt opened the door up wide and then he dropped his flask, the alcohol spilling to coat his boots. Skyler couldn't see passed him, but she could smell blood. She moved forward and shoved passed Salt and then her eyes fell upon the beaten and bruised bodies of Lilia and Eric. Her mouth fell agape and her hands lost grip on the two items. Time stood still, the glass ballerina figurine twirling and spinning before it crashed upon the floor. The glass shattered into a thousand and one pieces. The pocket watch sprang open and hit the floor, causing the back to pop off and the mechanical pieces inside to spring out and spread across the floor in a heap. Skyler let out a scream of terror, and Salt was too busy huffing and puffing. It took him a moment, and everything felt as if it were in slow motion.
Salt called for the medic team, and Skyler insisted she was with Lilia. Before the medic team arrived, Skyler did look at Eric, his poor beaten form breaking her heart, but he would be fine. Lilia.. she did not deserve this again. She turned to Salt and slapped him across the face. No words were exchanged, other than Salt's grumbling of profanities. Gingerly scooping up Lilia, the poor girl's blood coated Skyler, and ignoring the medical team, Skyler carried her to the medical room herself and started to patch the poor child up. Three times she had to tend to this girl's wounds, and it would be the last. "I swear on my dead mother's grave.. I will never let this happen again," she thought to herself, tears clouding her vision while Kat stepped in. Why was Kat even here? "When I heard I.. Let me," she insisted, helping Skyler to tend to Lilia. As soon as Skyler could, she calmed down and assessed the situation as quickly as possible. She would find out whoever did this, and their blood would spill from their bodies. They would feel as much pain as Lilia had felt, but doubled.. no, tripled. Skyler would hunt them like wild game, and make them squeal for mercy.
---
Lilia was tucked into the medical wing, her bed just a curtain away from Eric's. Even if Skyler hadn't tended to his wounds, she would still be there when he woke up, unless Salt wandered in. Skyler doubted he would. Once she was sure Lilia was safe, she stepped away and back to the training room. She had to start where the crime was committed. She would begin her hunt, but first she had to learn everything she could about her targets. She scooped up the only solid piece of the ballerina figure, the upper torso with missing arms, as well as the now broken watch. She held on to the two items, her fists curling about them. The broken glass cut her hand, her blood spilling before the wound healed. "I know you are here in this building, and I will find you; in due time."
"Well, it's back to Alaska, Uncle Corn," she said, sighing as she plucked herself from a large leather recliner. She dusted her skirt and shrugged a backpack around her shoulders. "Before you go, I have something for both of your children, my dear," he said, his cheery tone never breaking while his beard flicked as if it had a mind of it's own. He shuffled around the desk he was sitting at and presented a crystalline Ballerina figurine, and an older looking pocket watch and chain. "I hope they like their gifts; you can tell them you purchased them from an old thrift shop.. No need getting Uncle Corn involved in this mess." He laughed, and Amelié chirped from her perch about her wanting some chocolate milk, and not to forget the squiggly straw! Skyler laughed and hugged her Uncle, and then the adorable Amelié that came running to cling to Skyler's legs. "Ne partez pas! S'il vous plaît ne partez pas!" (Don't go yet! Please don't go!) whined Amelié, her thoughts of that chocolate milk vanishing for a moment.
"Je serai de retour avant de commencer à me manque, mon Amelié doux." (I will be back before you start missing me, my sweet Amelié.) Skyler cooed, her French having been a bit rusty until she was back around Amelié and her sassy attitude. She kissed the top of the child's head and carefully took hold of the glass figurine and pocket watch. They both felt fragile in her grasp, and as ironic as that was, she ignored it and just cradled them with care. Once Skyler had crossed the threshold of the library, Amelié was back to demanding chocolate milk with a squiggly straw. A soft giggle passed Skyler's lips, but then she sighed. She would miss her relatives, even her sour faced younger brother, Anthony.
--
The trip to Alaska was shorter than she expected, a helicopter having picked her up at a remote location. She had taken a taxi to reach the lone coordinates, and waited patiently, admiring the figurine and watch. It was a wind up watch, and it had an engraving on it. A small symbol that looked to be a heart with a crown etched around of it. It was odd, but it also said something in Latin. 'Pro amico,' or 'For a friend' is what it translated to. But.. who would sign with a heart wearing a pointed crown? What an odd little mystery, but the watch was beautiful, and Eric would likely love it, even if he pretended not to. She took a deep breath and took the shallow steps off of the helicopter and dashed to get out of the propellers range. She was greeted by Franklin Salters, his form slipping out of a car that pulled up almost simultaneously with her landing.
"You're back, too, bitch?" he asked, his yellow teeth being licked by his tongue while his impulsive attitude leaked from every pore on his body. Skyler rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Obviously," she said dryly, her attention turning toward a Dominus soldier that came to greet them. "Agent Blacksmith and Agent Etoile are likely eager for their masters' returns," the soldier wheezed, an annoying raspy voice masked by the Dominus suit. Skyler nodded and let her act fall lazily into play. "My pet better have had the most fun she's ever had. I doubt any man could defile her like I do. I can make her scream without even touching her.." she said, her voice becoming smaller and devilish. She then shrugged and batted her lashes, the solider walking to lead them toward the training room. "Bullshit," Salt spat, tipping a flask to his dry lips to wet his leathery tongue.
The corner they turned that lead to the training room door was busted and left cracked open. Skyler figured they had just opened the door for Salt and herself to enter, but it being busted lead her heart into a thumping race. She fished out the small gifts for Lilia and Eric, both hands clutching the items independently, and carefully. Salt opened the door up wide and then he dropped his flask, the alcohol spilling to coat his boots. Skyler couldn't see passed him, but she could smell blood. She moved forward and shoved passed Salt and then her eyes fell upon the beaten and bruised bodies of Lilia and Eric. Her mouth fell agape and her hands lost grip on the two items. Time stood still, the glass ballerina figurine twirling and spinning before it crashed upon the floor. The glass shattered into a thousand and one pieces. The pocket watch sprang open and hit the floor, causing the back to pop off and the mechanical pieces inside to spring out and spread across the floor in a heap. Skyler let out a scream of terror, and Salt was too busy huffing and puffing. It took him a moment, and everything felt as if it were in slow motion.
Salt called for the medic team, and Skyler insisted she was with Lilia. Before the medic team arrived, Skyler did look at Eric, his poor beaten form breaking her heart, but he would be fine. Lilia.. she did not deserve this again. She turned to Salt and slapped him across the face. No words were exchanged, other than Salt's grumbling of profanities. Gingerly scooping up Lilia, the poor girl's blood coated Skyler, and ignoring the medical team, Skyler carried her to the medical room herself and started to patch the poor child up. Three times she had to tend to this girl's wounds, and it would be the last. "I swear on my dead mother's grave.. I will never let this happen again," she thought to herself, tears clouding her vision while Kat stepped in. Why was Kat even here? "When I heard I.. Let me," she insisted, helping Skyler to tend to Lilia. As soon as Skyler could, she calmed down and assessed the situation as quickly as possible. She would find out whoever did this, and their blood would spill from their bodies. They would feel as much pain as Lilia had felt, but doubled.. no, tripled. Skyler would hunt them like wild game, and make them squeal for mercy.
Mercy they would never receive.
---
Lilia was tucked into the medical wing, her bed just a curtain away from Eric's. Even if Skyler hadn't tended to his wounds, she would still be there when he woke up, unless Salt wandered in. Skyler doubted he would. Once she was sure Lilia was safe, she stepped away and back to the training room. She had to start where the crime was committed. She would begin her hunt, but first she had to learn everything she could about her targets. She scooped up the only solid piece of the ballerina figure, the upper torso with missing arms, as well as the now broken watch. She held on to the two items, her fists curling about them. The broken glass cut her hand, her blood spilling before the wound healed. "I know you are here in this building, and I will find you; in due time."
Chellizard- Retired Moderator
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Nekromonga (08/23/2017 10:05PM): Chellizard the Internet Born, Mother of Nerds, first of her name, Queen of the Gamers and the Roleplayers
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Humor : [18:47:50] Spirit Corgi : Dear mods, I need my apps unapproved. If you don't do it an orderly time, I will compare you to nazis and tell everyone how you are stiffening my creativity, yours truly, a loving member of the site.
Registration date : 2009-11-15 -
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Twinkletoes November 22nd 2012, 8:37 am
Soft light invades the musty crevices of a house trapped in time, lost in space; twirling in a void with nothing but layers of snow surrounding it. The stark white blanket stretched on for miles, an endless landscape with nothing but the ice and wind to guide its movement. There was only the small log cabin, the warm chocolate brown of the timber huddled together to halt the impeding frost that thrashed around the structure. But it would not waver, it would not bow down to the elements that embraced the landscape around it; this little log cabin defied nature and provided warmth, safety and protection. Warmth, Safety and Protection. There was nothing like the endearing embrace of a fresh rug against the soles of one's feet or the smell of the fresh cedar wood slats that lined the low roof filling your senses with intoxicating musk of nature.
A single petite female paced next to the raging fireplace; she was graceful, ethereal and so beautiful she appeared fragile and yet she was completely safe within the house, her house. The girl's light footsteps danced in time with the melody of violin lost in the snow storm, as if nature itself where singing for the girl. There was the storm and the song, surrounding the small hut in a supernatural storm of wonder. Who was this ghost? Who was creating this beautiful music?
The rise and fall of the tempo held the girl in a trance, forcing her to sway her thin body with the hypnotic rhythm of the spectre's music. It sang a song, the sad, lonely voice piercing the white void surrounding the lone cabin. the girl spun on the tips of her toes, twirling with all of her might to keep in time with the wraith's beautiful voice. "Why are you sad?" she asked, her gentle voice caressing the air around her. There was no reply. "I can help you..!"she said louder, her melodic voice attempting to break the sounds of the violin that hovered in the wind. "Tell me..I can help you!", the girl cried, pleading over the sounds of the relentless blizzard. But there was no reply.
"please..."
The Wind roared.
Her voice shattered.
The music stopped.
All became black.
***
"Her body has undergone severe stress, it's a miracle she's still capable of breathing..three broken ribs, a shattered wrist, lacerations all over her body... her flesh has been torn at on her chest and genitalia and I fear emergency surgery won't recover much of what was obliterated during the assault.."
There is a pause.
"Sir...who is this girl? I've never seen her, ever."
"Unfortunately..I don't have the authority to tell you who this she is. You're here for one thing and one thing only, to make sure she doesn't die, so no more questions...before we both get in trouble. I will not have a child die like this.."
"But sir...she was raped, the last time I checked that's the sort of crime that deserves the death penalty..are we seriously going to ignore that? I mean look at what they did to her! The poor thing has had her virtue torn out of her.."
"I know...but keeping her alive is our job. I'm sure the offenders will be quickly apprehended...you do forget that we do have some of the world's best in here.."
"I just hope her mother...or i think it was her mother gets some good news out of this.."
"So do I..."
***
Franklin Salters was a man of a few faces, not one who to wear masks to please the people around him mainly because he was too lazy to put up the effort but also because he genuinely believed that he had all the rights to act like a 'dick'. Discovering his newest recruit lying in a pool of his own blood was something that had the senior agent grinding his teeth; of all the things that had to ruin his day, other than the slap to the face from that Skyler bitch, having to deal with Eric Snowden's hospitalisation and slow recovery was something he did not enjoy. He saw the tapes of the two inside the training room. He had planted the girl in there as a gift for his budding soldier..a way to let off steam and exercise that laughable ego of his.But no, apparently their taste in women clashed and the idiotic boy had completely ignored the chance to take the ballerina for a spin. Unfortunately for the two young lovebirds, Privates D, J and U had taken the opportunity instead...their chaotic spree lasting three hours.
Now Salt would not have cared if the girl was strung up like a pig and flogged til she cried blood but they did not ask for his permission. He was king of this place and they did not follow the principles of being his loyal squad...not only that but they almost killed their weapons supplier. "Dumb fucks are gonna get their asses handed to them by the nympho..", he sighed under his breath, scratching the oily flesh of his unshaven neck as he strolled down a stark white hallway into the room where Eric lay.
Franklin had seen worse and the multitude of bandages and bruises were nothing short of a brief piece of amusement for the man. This young man was however, one of the key factors to Dominus' success in the near future. He was a metahuman weapons factory and it relived the foul man that the boy was working on their side. Clasping a chair near the bed the greasy fellow stared intently at Eric's face, half conscious with blood still caked on most areas of his skin. "Well shit...I do condone violence against your type but you're my special little man and this just pisses the fuck out of me", Salt mumbled, roughly wiping strands of hair out of the young man's face.
"Good thing you survived though, I guess i'll give you a week off from work, send in a few whores to make you feel better and stuff..." he chuckled, fiddling with the heart monitor next to the bed.Unfortunately your the little slut didn't make it out alive. Doctor's said she died a long time before the trio even stopped. I can show you the body if you want...although you might have trouble making out her features since they ripped off most of her skin..." Salt sighed, not bothered with Lilia's apparent 'death', even going as far as smirking at the end of his comment. "But you know, we have a lot of pussy here...so just state your flavours and I'll bring one over for you!" he said in a disturbingly cheery voice, patting Eric's chest with his chubby hand.
"If there's anything you need and I'll get it for you."
A single petite female paced next to the raging fireplace; she was graceful, ethereal and so beautiful she appeared fragile and yet she was completely safe within the house, her house. The girl's light footsteps danced in time with the melody of violin lost in the snow storm, as if nature itself where singing for the girl. There was the storm and the song, surrounding the small hut in a supernatural storm of wonder. Who was this ghost? Who was creating this beautiful music?
The rise and fall of the tempo held the girl in a trance, forcing her to sway her thin body with the hypnotic rhythm of the spectre's music. It sang a song, the sad, lonely voice piercing the white void surrounding the lone cabin. the girl spun on the tips of her toes, twirling with all of her might to keep in time with the wraith's beautiful voice. "Why are you sad?" she asked, her gentle voice caressing the air around her. There was no reply. "I can help you..!"she said louder, her melodic voice attempting to break the sounds of the violin that hovered in the wind. "Tell me..I can help you!", the girl cried, pleading over the sounds of the relentless blizzard. But there was no reply.
"please..."
The Wind roared.
Her voice shattered.
The music stopped.
All became black.
***
"Her body has undergone severe stress, it's a miracle she's still capable of breathing..three broken ribs, a shattered wrist, lacerations all over her body... her flesh has been torn at on her chest and genitalia and I fear emergency surgery won't recover much of what was obliterated during the assault.."
There is a pause.
"Sir...who is this girl? I've never seen her, ever."
"Unfortunately..I don't have the authority to tell you who this she is. You're here for one thing and one thing only, to make sure she doesn't die, so no more questions...before we both get in trouble. I will not have a child die like this.."
"But sir...she was raped, the last time I checked that's the sort of crime that deserves the death penalty..are we seriously going to ignore that? I mean look at what they did to her! The poor thing has had her virtue torn out of her.."
"I know...but keeping her alive is our job. I'm sure the offenders will be quickly apprehended...you do forget that we do have some of the world's best in here.."
"I just hope her mother...or i think it was her mother gets some good news out of this.."
"So do I..."
***
Franklin Salters was a man of a few faces, not one who to wear masks to please the people around him mainly because he was too lazy to put up the effort but also because he genuinely believed that he had all the rights to act like a 'dick'. Discovering his newest recruit lying in a pool of his own blood was something that had the senior agent grinding his teeth; of all the things that had to ruin his day, other than the slap to the face from that Skyler bitch, having to deal with Eric Snowden's hospitalisation and slow recovery was something he did not enjoy. He saw the tapes of the two inside the training room. He had planted the girl in there as a gift for his budding soldier..a way to let off steam and exercise that laughable ego of his.But no, apparently their taste in women clashed and the idiotic boy had completely ignored the chance to take the ballerina for a spin. Unfortunately for the two young lovebirds, Privates D, J and U had taken the opportunity instead...their chaotic spree lasting three hours.
Now Salt would not have cared if the girl was strung up like a pig and flogged til she cried blood but they did not ask for his permission. He was king of this place and they did not follow the principles of being his loyal squad...not only that but they almost killed their weapons supplier. "Dumb fucks are gonna get their asses handed to them by the nympho..", he sighed under his breath, scratching the oily flesh of his unshaven neck as he strolled down a stark white hallway into the room where Eric lay.
Franklin had seen worse and the multitude of bandages and bruises were nothing short of a brief piece of amusement for the man. This young man was however, one of the key factors to Dominus' success in the near future. He was a metahuman weapons factory and it relived the foul man that the boy was working on their side. Clasping a chair near the bed the greasy fellow stared intently at Eric's face, half conscious with blood still caked on most areas of his skin. "Well shit...I do condone violence against your type but you're my special little man and this just pisses the fuck out of me", Salt mumbled, roughly wiping strands of hair out of the young man's face.
"Good thing you survived though, I guess i'll give you a week off from work, send in a few whores to make you feel better and stuff..." he chuckled, fiddling with the heart monitor next to the bed.Unfortunately your the little slut didn't make it out alive. Doctor's said she died a long time before the trio even stopped. I can show you the body if you want...although you might have trouble making out her features since they ripped off most of her skin..." Salt sighed, not bothered with Lilia's apparent 'death', even going as far as smirking at the end of his comment. "But you know, we have a lot of pussy here...so just state your flavours and I'll bring one over for you!" he said in a disturbingly cheery voice, patting Eric's chest with his chubby hand.
"If there's anything you need and I'll get it for you."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twinkletoes- Post Adept
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Warnings :
Number of posts : 309
Location : Australia
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Registration date : 2012-05-24
Re: Two lost souls (closed to Blacksmith)
by Blacksmith November 25th 2012, 5:38 pm
It had been painful to Eric to find that his long-lost biological mother cared little for him, even seemed to despise him. It hurt him deeply, despite the fact that he had always vowed to live by himself and for himself alone; that he promised himself he wouldn't need such nonsense as motherly love or even parental affection in general.
In the short few weeks he had been here at Dominus he had come to know his true mother as a cold, professional woman with a sadistic streak in her sexuality and a strong fondness, perhaps even love, for Lilia.
But the thing that truly jabbed at him, the dagger in his heart, was the knowledge that Franklin Salters, a cruel monster of a man whose depravity knew no bounds, cared for him more than she did. He was the cause of all of Lilia's pain, the personification of her personal devil in this world, and even to Eric had been a tormentor at times. And yet here he was, watching over him at the sickbed. She wasn't.
Eric listened drowsily to the foul man's ramblings. When Salters moved a few stray strands of hair out of Eric's face, he felt the instinctive urge to move away from it and feel appalled, yet lay this urge to rest. His hands were rough and greasy, his movements rough, but they spoke at least of a modicum of concern for the boy. Even if it was only as a human weapons factory, he saw some value in him, considered him to be worth worrying for. And as much as Eric wanted to hate the man, he wanted to from the depths his heart, for Lilia, he could not. Eric continued to half-listen; it was of little interest to him what Salt was actually saying.
No. Wait.
Lilia? Dead?
Eric sprung to attention, his eyes opening wider, his heart suddenly skipping a beat. As Salters gave the details, Eric listened attentively. He soon began to relax again, displaying only an ambiguous calm smile on his face.
When Salt moved to leave, Eric spoke up weakly.
"I'd rather.....I don't want....vacation. I just want to get to work again...as soon as possible." He managed to utter, still breathing rather heavily. He needed to get back to his work. Back to the forge. Back to doing what he was meant to do. He knew now what he had to do, and how to achieve it.
"I want to make....the greatest weapons...the world has ever seen."
In the short few weeks he had been here at Dominus he had come to know his true mother as a cold, professional woman with a sadistic streak in her sexuality and a strong fondness, perhaps even love, for Lilia.
But the thing that truly jabbed at him, the dagger in his heart, was the knowledge that Franklin Salters, a cruel monster of a man whose depravity knew no bounds, cared for him more than she did. He was the cause of all of Lilia's pain, the personification of her personal devil in this world, and even to Eric had been a tormentor at times. And yet here he was, watching over him at the sickbed. She wasn't.
Eric listened drowsily to the foul man's ramblings. When Salters moved a few stray strands of hair out of Eric's face, he felt the instinctive urge to move away from it and feel appalled, yet lay this urge to rest. His hands were rough and greasy, his movements rough, but they spoke at least of a modicum of concern for the boy. Even if it was only as a human weapons factory, he saw some value in him, considered him to be worth worrying for. And as much as Eric wanted to hate the man, he wanted to from the depths his heart, for Lilia, he could not. Eric continued to half-listen; it was of little interest to him what Salt was actually saying.
No. Wait.
Lilia? Dead?
Eric sprung to attention, his eyes opening wider, his heart suddenly skipping a beat. As Salters gave the details, Eric listened attentively. He soon began to relax again, displaying only an ambiguous calm smile on his face.
When Salt moved to leave, Eric spoke up weakly.
"I'd rather.....I don't want....vacation. I just want to get to work again...as soon as possible." He managed to utter, still breathing rather heavily. He needed to get back to his work. Back to the forge. Back to doing what he was meant to do. He knew now what he had to do, and how to achieve it.
"I want to make....the greatest weapons...the world has ever seen."
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