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Face Claim Reserves
Nov 29, 2019 0:06:33 GMT
KANTAI COLLECTION, tenryuu by solace until december 11th
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Odin's Spear
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the twelfth labor (vs Quatro Cerberus)
Nov 28, 2019 4:48:22 GMT
edited on Nov 28, 2019 4:50:54 GMT by A.J. Godfrey
The Godfather was far removed from concepts such as hypocrisy on that day—for she had not spurned the idea of the strong ruling over the weak, but the weak—Quatro Cerberus—attempting to dabble in the affairs of the strong. Not that the woman harboured sympathy for a band of cutthroats who slaughtered innocents in haphazard bouts of extreme violence, perhaps the irony was the entire point. Equated to a dosage of one’s own medicine. As per this to-be exterminated entity’s common philosophy, this was well within the accepted bounds; perhaps they all should keel over and burn. Then again, she doubted she needed a plethora of explanation to justify wiping out criminals, especially those who murdered her friends.
Not like these individuals had much of a choice. She never claimed to be a wide-eyed idealist. They killed her friends, now they were all going to die.
One of them was bold enough to direct a retreat, claiming that Sovereign Pale was not present. He might have been there, maybe he was concealing himself like a cowardly rat. It was an interesting thing; that bravado this man exhibited could have been used for greater purposes. Unlike Quatro Cerberus, helping provide a true iron fist to clutch the world and organize it to its former state. Though the purpose could be considered “benign”, the means weren’t always adhering to blind idealism. Unfortunately, sacrifice was what he chose—and the brunette assured it would be in vain. Whether or not Sovereign was present or not, this man was unable to verify it; he lacked the same omnipotent perception she possessed.
”Tsk, what a waste of potential,” Anniken said, shaking her head. Eccentric eyes glued to him, she rolled her shoulders in a dismissive shrug, before pinning her attention to the cosmic mass pooling within the sky. Before she could put the situation to rest, one of the individuals who decided to embark on the endeavour alongside her spoke up—that is Ivory Volkov, the Underboss and Justice’s girlfriend.
Initially, she glanced in her direction. Blinking a few times, she steered her gaze back towards the anomaly in the sky. The idea of giving an individual who collaborated with a man who killed her friends in cold blood, for no reason, in the most painful way imaginable baffled her. With very benign aspirations such as “glory and fortune”, as well as abandoning the idea of even trying to negotiate, she had no interest in humouring the request; especially given it would literally put Rhian at risk.
It seemed that Cheshire exhibited an identical outlook as she spoke up; if even the advisor had enough of a guild’s shit, then she certainly wasn’t going to provide any modicum of a chance for the scum before her to prove themselves. Anniken, nor Justice, reserved any soft spots for career criminals and their insidious ilk. Those under this bannered were irredeemable thugs, and their existence resulted in the death of those close to herself and Cheshire. They were all going to die.
Hair billowing in the uplifted gravity from the mass of the celestial body, she invigorated it with a nauseating amount of magic power. Simultaneously, a barrier of transparent shadow formed around the members of her group, deterring them from being endangered by the effects.
”Betelgeuse.”
True form revealed, the mass of energy expanded into a miniature star. A condensed body of plasma mirroring a red giant, the size of ten boulders. A deluge of blinding, crimson light poured through the town and even the lands surrounding it for expansive miles. It exuded enough heat to not only reduce the fleeing members of the guild to soot from the igneous radiation, but enough mass to provide its own gravitational field, pulling what was left of their charred cadavers towards it, elongating their form into a the shape of a strand of spaghetti, and reducing them to campfire residue. The church, and all within it, went up in flames—and would be reduced to ashes alongside its populace. Making the heat even more horrifying was the fact she honed it in on that specific location, intensifying it further. As for the remaining fellow, perhaps the gravity would not affect him, but the heat certainly would if it found purchase.
HP: 2100/2100 | MP: 190/200
ATK: 100 150
DEF: 00
AC: 10
HEAL: 00
STAM: 105
Level: 30
MAGIC - ODIN'S EYE
Specialty: Defensive
Enhancements: Attack, Critical Hit, Sense
Defense
Attack 1. --
Attack 2. --
Damage received: 00
Conditions: Power Up -- Atk (1/3)
Offense
Standard Action - Betelgeuse (AoE Magic Attack) @gang & Quatro Cerberus
— Attack Roll: qgyhYwgO +150 (Crit on 18-20)
— Condition Roll: n/a
Bonus Action - n/a
— Effect: n/a
Potential damage: 225
MP used: 20
MP regenerated: 10
Inventory
Fortune & Fate / Trick or Treat -- T1
Gungnir - T3
Sands of Colchis - Magical Item
@gang Cheshire Copeland Ivory Volkov @all of QC | Post 2 | WC: 714/1125 |
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Odin's Spear
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the twelfth labor (vs Quatro Cerberus)
Nov 28, 2019 1:41:52 GMT
edited on Nov 28, 2019 1:47:53 GMT by A.J. Godfrey
Perhaps the events spelled the beginning of the end, alas, the culprit who chose to perform the deed failed to predict whose end it would be. Indeed, ever since the demise of Topaz and Koji Nyctores, the Godfather planned the retribution the criminal organization deserved. While the felid duo rested in Valhalla, the wrath of Valhalla soon followed for their tormentor.
As per the events several months ago, the woman formed a contract, free of cost, with the guild known as Cait Shelter. Through her omnipotent Eye, she witnessed what happened to Koji and Topaz by way of divination, a feat she has been known to exhibit since her spawning. Not only was it a contract, but these felines were her friends—and woe unto those who harmed the Godfather’s friends.
Standing before the church that served as the Quatro Cerberus headquarters, the rage wafting through the atmosphere was thick, likened to breathing in oxygen with the consistency of tar. Both eyes wreathed in dark accents and crimson, she meticulously picked a time predicted through her future sight where the man of the hour, the guild master, would be present within the ungodly abode—as well at the bulk of the members of the organization.
The whole of Basalt Town was afflicted with immense pressure, enough to flatten the floating debris and constructs to the ground, pinning them in place.
”Ya’ll lowlifes like killin’ the weak, yeah? ‘Cause you think the strong got the right to rule. This era, maybe you’re right—“ Started Anniken, before her other personality, Justice, finished the line. ”Unfortunately, you are the weak. And you transgressed on the territory of the strong. Now, feel the wrath of Odin’s Spear, worthless scum.”
As she spoke, her voice acquired an eerie omnipotence that, despite her moderate volume, would permit those present in hearing her. No matter—she pointed her finger skyward, projecting a diminutive orb above the headquarters building, peppered with the colours of the cosmos, a massive heat began to exude from it. Judging from the colossal mass—despite its size—of this anomaly, it seemed as though the members of this crude band had very little time to respond should they want their guild of cutthroats to exist anymore.
”For the Nyctores brothers.”
(OOC: As per the thread linked above, and Sovereign’s killing of Topaz and Koji Nyctores, this is an assault on Quatro Cerberus. Combat rules apply—48 hours to respond or it’s eradicated.)
HP: 2100/2100 | MP: 200/200
ATK: 100 150
DEF: 00
AC: 10
HEAL: 00
STAM: 105
Level: 30
MAGIC - ODIN'S EYE
Specialty: Defensive
Enhancements: Attack, Critical Hit, Sense
Defense
Attack 1. --
Attack 2. --
Damage received: 00
Conditions: Power Up -- Atk (0/3)
Offense
Standard Action - n/a
— Attack Roll: n/a
— Condition Roll: n/a
Bonus Action - Power Up -- Atk (Apotheosis)
— Effect: n/a
Potential damage: n/a
MP used: 00
MP regenerated: 10
Inventory
Fortune & Fate / Trick or Treat -- T1
Gungnir - T3
Sands of Colchis - Magical Item
Sovereign Pale Kiyomi Tenma @gang and any other QC I'm missing the tags of | Post 1 | WC: 411/411 |
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”You know what? It ain’t often I feel bad, conscience—or whatever it’s chalked up as—always been a bit on the, hmm, impaired side I’m gonna admit, but shit, I think I actually feel kinda bad,” Anniken started, placing a hand on her hip. The army of reanimated carcasses idled, before she dismissed them with her hand. All creatures either dropped into an inert state, or made their way back from whence they came.
”I dunno if I wanna shoot’em or just give’em a hug! Can’t be easy bein’ a ghost, like, not just dead, but super dead, and then you got several peeps capable of chewing your head off,” she continued, although it was difficult to discern who she was talking to. Cheshire desired more information about the abode, whether they would be able to stay in it for shelter or not. It didn’t seem to vanish, structural damage aside, which meant the house itself was probably just a medium for the spell.
”Then stop shooting before you think, Anniken. Odin’s Spear is no stranger to non-humans, or the dead, or any other aberrations. Instead of killing an entity with the rare ability to accumulate energy from people, why not give them a place to be accepted and to pool their abilities towards a better cause?” Justice continued, switching the hip in which she placed her hand onto.
”Well—“ Started her twin, scratching her head. ”I mean, I guess it ain’t another mouth to feed. Plus, I can see any funny business in the future if he wanted to turn coat. I dunno, partner, dunno what his true deal is yet.”
Cheshire Copeland Tsukai | Post 7 |
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H-H-Haunted? [event, closed]
Nov 19, 2019 2:10:27 GMT
edited on Nov 19, 2019 2:11:11 GMT by A.J. Godfrey
”A trick, huh?”
Irresponsive to the commentary around her, Anniken pushed herself to her feet. Slashing a wicked grin upon her fair countenance, a barricade of shadow from her blonde hair’s canopy draped over her eyes. There was little hesitation—constraints on her own magical power released, a suffocating, overbearing presence began eclipsing not only the house, but the entire environment it was nestled within. It exerted a pressure on all entities, living or dead, while the foundation of the building began to rumble upon having its integrity challenged.
”Ya know, I was a Halloween baby—fancy that, huh? Both of us!” Boisterous laughter tore free from her throat as she pushed her bangs back, razor fangs on show as her grin broadened. Wide eyes focused on the spirit, a rivulet of saliva escaped beyond her lips as she and her power both entered a delirium. ”You wanna give ol’Anniken a TRICK, HUH? Are you crazy, boy? You stealin’ MY magic without permission?”
Cocking the revolver, she squeezed the trigger.
”Fine, I’ll show you a Trick. You show me yours, I show you mine!”
Firing the bullet into the ground, it appeared to be comprised of some eldritch manner of miasma. Sinking into the floor, it corrupted it to the point of rot, expanding to encompass beyond just the foundation of the abode. Seeping into the environment surrounding it for an approximate mile, what small modicum of light particles once salvageable in the area dimmed, and a quake rinsed through the ground.
The windows shattered. Rotted limbs crawled through from all sides of the building, revealed to be the delipidated faces of reanimated corpses. An all too familiar blend of magic, derived from the incident months ago when the world was overrun with the undead. Twisted things, mutant species, maggots the size of elephants, even the mangled body of Valtiel, the undead wyvern the militia faced off against, marched towards the house as innumerable cadavers crawled into the room with their sights set on the spirit.
And then, a hand tore through the wall of the building, a familiar mask peeking through the shower of debris and splintered wood. The eerie abomination that crawled free of the body of the wyvern at the conclusion of the attack.
”But I bet mine is a SHIT TON bigger…”
--
HP: 2100/2100 | MP: 190/190
ATK: 100 150
DEF: 00
AC: 10
HEAL: 00
STAM: 105
Level: 30
MAGIC - ODIN'S EYE
Specialty: Defensive
Enhancements: Attack, Critical Hit, Sense
Defense
Attack 1. --
Attack 2. --
Damage received: 00
Conditions: Power Up -- Atk (0/3)
Offense
Standard Action - n/a
— Attack Roll: n/a
— Condition Roll: n/a
Bonus Action - Power Up -- Atk (Night of the Living Dead)
— Effect: n/a
Potential damage: n/a
MP used: 00
MP regenerated: 19
Inventory
Fortune & Fate / Trick or Treat -- T1
Gungnir - T3
Sands of Colchis - Magical Item
Cheshire Copeland | Post 6 |
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Vanishing Point
Nov 15, 2019 5:13:44 GMT
Fleet as lightning, Justice’s hand tore through the atmosphere and towards the man’s throat. An arrow slicing through the sound barrier through the sheer speed she assumed, a sound akin to thunder ensued and blasted away the windows of the building surrounding them. A hail of glass skewered the streets, torrential winds wreathed around her from the force behind her motion. Gripping his throat, the Godfather would slam the man into the adjacent wall. Knowing that he was capable of regenerating, she kept him in the limbo state by continuously applying enough pressure to compress his trachea into sticky gunk.
”Watch your tone, halfbreed. Does an insect like you believe that I, a true vampire with God status, would have her own Compulsion usurped by the likes of you?”
Anger. That was what manifested around her in its purest form—and the entire city would feel it. The Godfather was a title that had two intrinsic meanings to it; one referred to the status known traditionally to stem from Mafia organizations such as her own, and the latter referred to the divine blood inherent to her family. Not only was AJ the Godfather, but she was the God-Queen of Alakitasia. Those who incited her wrath were either unlucky or fools, and she intended to let the individual before her learn the hard way. For the sheer volume of untamed power, both holy and unholy, flaring from her was enough in imposing a feeling on the expansive Shale Town of weighing three times the amount each inhabitant usually did.
As much as she wanted to atomize the worm before her using her vast selection if maladies or outright destructive onslaughts, she needed the man alive for awhile longer. Not before living up to her namesake and providing the karmic retribution she desired. The Godfather’s eyes were overtaken by blacks and reds while she bore her gaze into his skull, leaning closer while she cleaved through his psyche with her stare.
Channeling her raw magic into his body, she emphasized the carotid veins along his neck, causing them to glow while radiant, holy magic would burn the dhampir from the inside. No amount of negligence to pain would deter her from causing agony by providing a vampire’s exact weakness, though she kept him in limbo instead of outright reducing him to ash. The fury of the damned housed within her eyes, then pain would not cease—and while she did it, she drove her own vampiric Compulsion deep into his mind.
”You want to do whatever I say, don’t you?”
After all, she was a vampire, too. A full vampire, and one with a freakish amount of divine might. This was the most obvious and quickest way of going about it, one that did not even borrow specifics from her pilfered magic types, and instead was just the barebones, evident capabilities of her race. She doubted the man was aware of that, hence his folly in providing her with the details she needed to know and his unwillingness to accept his fate. It was almost humorous; she thought she would have needed to use a variety of different spells to save these people, and yet all she needed to do was drive a javelin of his own medicine through his grey matter using the most famous capabilities of their partially shared race.
After finding the mark, she learned that it was no coincidence. There were no profound mysteries behind it. From the looks of things, it was just another abomination who disgraced her race through living up to their ghoulish expectations. Perhaps it truly was a grand mystery she had yet to fully unravel, but she trivialized it because of the entity who sat near the end. And she wanted to destroy him—she wanted to make him suffer.
”How does it feel, you sick fuck? The puppeteer becomes the puppet, what a shit existence you’re going to live.”
Kasumi Ito | Post 20 | 659 / 3938 |
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OST, ft. AJ & Kasumi
Nov 15, 2019 4:34:12 GMT
There was a saying that survived the ages, even beyond the Calamity. One could look at the flowers, but were prohibited from picking them. Justice likened this situation to that, and it almost made her regret using that specific type of Magic against the woman. Seeing the other woman progressively reduced to a moaning mess from the continuous blows of concentrated Pleasure stirred her in ways that she could not deny, and made it difficult to think objectively and concentrate on the fight at hand.
At the end of the day, it was a good method of bringing someone to a state where they could not continue fighting without having to compensate with the usual recovery time. Though she felled many opponents with lethal dosages of the ability, she had enough control over it to incapacitate targets without snuffing out their lives. Kasumi was one such person she wanted to refrain from injuring, but she was inept at resisting how much it backfired.
Her own breathing accelerated, her skin feeling flushed even despite her race. One such Cheshire Copeland was going to get it by the end of the day. It would have been an and or situation with Ivory Volkov, but she was unavailable at the time. Steeling her nerves, she watched while the other combatant brought herself back to her feet. Despite having at least half of her vitality blown away by Justice’s Magic, she remained stalwart.
Tenacity in the face of adversity was a characteristic she admired. One that was engraved into Kasumi’s nature. Getting back up despite overwhelming odds was expected; she witnessed the assassin demonstrate the mental fortitude required during her rescue from the undead. No matter how fruitless it seemed, if she had energy in her body, she attempted to face whatever was in front of her. These were the characteristics of someone she would like to see in the upper echelons of their organization, and she wondered what specific designation she wanted to award her.
”Good.”
As commendable as her efforts were, Justice knew the end was nigh. She hoped for a day where Kasumi would be powerful enough to pose her with a contest where she needed to use the full extent of her strength, honouring her prowess with a more serious investment of her might. Through her Eye, she knew that the strikes coming her way posed little threat to her. Despite the raw power behind them, Justice was both Goddess and a Vampire, making it exceedingly difficult to get through her regenerative capabilities.
Speed was on Kasumi’s side, however. Though she saw it coming, she saw no reason to void it, nor was she certain she could avoid it without that ability. Her shot to the body slammed into her midsection, causing her to tense while she brought her hands up. Boxing was her go-to for close range combat, pugilism that proved successful in the modern age and was incorporated into almost every serious martial artist’s style. Her own speed was nothing to underestimate, too.
With the other fighter stinging her body with a powerful blow, she exploited her lack of pain and regenerative capabilities to follow up with a counter. Any blow to the body required one to lean forward more than usual, the body shifting downward in the direction of a lower target. Assuming her guard was up on the other side, this left the right side of Kasumi’s body as the most exposed target. Witnessing the opportunity in vivid detail, her left hook soared towards Kasumi’s cheek with meticulous precision. The punch itself had no force behind it—it owed its power to the injection of Pleasure that would ensue if she found purchase with her attack.
As for Kasumi’s attempt at sapping her vitality and stunning her, the former was resisted through Justice exuding a large amount of Magic through her body and neutralizing the connection. It had a chance of succeeding, but there seemed to be less force behind the attempt than usual. The Godfather chalked it up to Kasumi’s current state blighting her concentration, but she could have been wrong. The attempt at impeding her future attacks also failed, for the woman’s ability to feel pain was too marred for her to find a significant amount of fruit for her labour.
--
HP: 1100/1100 | MP: 160/200 | TEMPORARY HP: 340/560
ATK: 50
DEF: 00
AC: 10
HEAL: 00
STAM: 83/55
Level: 20
MAGIC - ODIN'S EYE
Defense
Attack 1. Attack hits! 110 damage, charm fails
Attack 2. Siphon Life fails
Damage received: 110 (110 mitigated through temp HP)
Conditions: Power Up -- Stamina (2/3)
Offense
Standard Action - Pleasure Magic (Attack)
— Attack Roll: g8hE8Y2e +50
— Condition Roll: n/a
Bonus Action - --
— Effect: --
Potential damage: 50 /2 = 25
MP used: 10
MP regenerated: 10
Inventory
Fortune & Fate / Trick or Treat -- T1
Gungnir - T3
Sands of Colchis - Magical Item
Kasumi Ito | Post 7 |
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“Weird?” Anniken said in passing, rhetorical in nature while she glued her attention to Cheshire once again. Rather than answering the question in full, dry laughter escaped from her while she wondered if she had a true good look at her own appearance. “And we’re a little scarce on the size of rations you’re gonna need, I’m afraid.”
Though Cheshire was cold to the touch, Anniken did not mind it. While she felt frigid, it was not an uncomfortable feeling because her pain receptors died long ago, disallowing feelings of discomfort in the first place. Even if they were active, she doubted she would have had reservations against the cool sensation. Indeed, it was verification that the process worked.
Wrapping one arm around her, her remained curve in her signature smirk.
“Alright, how ‘bout I show you how weird I think it is?”
(Fade to black)
Cheshire Copeland | Post 23 | 143/4526 |
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“Damn right you did.”
When it came to Cheshire’s new aesthetic, the Godfather had no reservations towards it. The maturity when it came to assets, curves, and overall look stirred her in unmentionable ways with a single look. Given the lack of proper garbs in that moment and the absence of contents in the bath, it provided her with an even more tantalizing sight as she watched the woman drink in her new appearance. Already she felt warmer—an astounding feat for a vampire—from staring at her looks for that long. It was the perfect eye candy.
“Well, I dunno what you’re scared about. You’re hot as hell, and I think that’s fair enough a price to pay for findin’ new things to hold your goods in,” Anniken said, continuing to savour the attention she invested towards her before directing her gaze towards the ceiling with nonchalance.
“As for what caused it, can’t say I know the exact science behind it. Guess it’s some sorta hybridization of the influence of my magic and your own together.”
Cheshire Copeland | Post 22 | 177/4383 |
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“Ah, ya seen it, did ya?” Anniken traced her finger along the side of the bath, collecting residual blood onto her finger. Popping her finger into her mouth, she employed her dexterous tongue to clean the digit free of its contaminant and appease her palette for the time being. “For a moment I looked real different, had black hair and everything; must be the form with the fullest extent of my badass vampire blood goin’ batshit crazy. But I pulled it back in and suppressed it for now, now I’m in some sorta in-between form.”
As she predicted before the turning, she had a feeling Cheshire would come to revel in the blood she brought. It was a tragedy seeing a person express ill feeling towards her favourite meal. Now she had one more person with a very selective diet, though the existence of the blood mage made it a lot easier to manage. Too bad that person was probably out at the time, and she doubted she had the time or effort to expend in finding wherever she might be.
“Any questions?”
Cheshire Copeland | Post 21 | 183/4206 |
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Anniken watched the spectacle before her. Though she remained virtually indistinct, Cheshire appeared to have received the opposite treatment when it came to the dark plane the duo plunged into for the turning. An air of maturity in both form and mannerism, she watched while she wordlessly brushed her lips against her chest. She felt the levels of blood decrease in the bath while Cheshire consumed the pool of crimson, revealing more of her frame. Relaxing and leaning back while she felt kisses pepper her midsection, she maintained her knavish smile.
Even while she felt the triangular tail trace its tip along her cheek, she continued to keep her gaze fixed on the once felid Cheshire. There was an air of curiosity in her black and red eyes while she watched her bring the blood bathing to its closure, the contents of the bath all but reduced to nothing in short time. It made the blonde a tad envious, as she wanted to feast on a copious amount of delectable blood as well.
“Ain’t it great? The power,” Anniken started in passing, another chuckle seeping beyond her lips. “The feelin’ of being able to fell a man with the flick of a finger. Embrace that. Shit’s just as addictin’ as the blood itself.”
Cheshire Copeland | Post 20 | 213/4023 |
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Upon opening her eyes, she would have been able to see that the Godfather was in the process of engaging the uncanny. Arms hanging over each side of the bath, her posture relaxed in a way reminiscent of Scarface, Anniken kept her eyes closed while shadows receded towards her eyes. The dark pigment once woven through her golden locks drained away from her hair, returning it to its previous golden sheen. What darkness she was steeped in during her venture inside of the unknown was being absorbed into her eyes, which she opened at last.
The first distinct feature perceptible was her black sclera. Though her familiar crimson eyes remained identical, the whites of her eyes becoming pitch black emphasized a monstrous mentality and power. While her aura remained divine, it was in the same sense as the reaper; holy, but representative of death itself. Whatever the Godfather was now, it boasted incomprehensible power and bordered on an abomination. A crooked smile along her lips, she aligned her gaze with Cheshire once more.
Giving her a look over, she ascertained how she felt by virtue of having went through it. Laughter emanated from her lips as she craned her head back, staring at the ceiling without aim.
“Ain’t ya gonna drink it? Don’t let it go to waste…”
Cheshire Copeland | Post 19 | 218/3810 |
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All the expected changes occurred within her. From the convulsing to the alterations, all was implicated through sightings with her divine eye. In response to the thrashing, AJ held Cheshire in place using her own supernatural strength to keep her at bay. The last thing she wanted to see was her significant other writhing around in discomfort, even though she knew she would feel it anyway as per the nature of having her body changed on a structural level and having the blood of another infiltrate her veins.
As much as she wanted to feast her eyes on her curvature and endowed body, her mind was occupied with the transfiguration itself. Feeling her own blood siphoned at an alarming rate, she owed her uncanny resilience—even for a vampire—to not be dried up right there. For as long as she drank, she seemed to be an endless tap of life-blood due to the woman’s regenerative prowess. A mix of emotions flooded through her, but she chose to neglect them. From imbibing the shadows, she felt different; as though her inhibitions had been lifted. A state likened to a drunken stupor, without impairing her mental faculties.
In turn, she allowed Cheshire to drink as much as she needed to stabilize herself. Observing the shadows with caution, the Godfather would declare when it was fine to exit from their momentary sanctuary. Placing her hand on the former feline’s shoulder, she decided it would be prudent to get her to a non-vampiric source of blood as soon as possible.
“Chesh, we need to go back. Your meal—it’s waiting for you.”
Cheshire Copeland | Post 18 | 269/3592 |
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Watching Cheshire steep herself in the darkness and challenge it with words the forces would have found bafflingly audacious made her chest swell with pride. Gone was the spirit that caved under pressure, that would have been aversive to the situation that be. Before her was the woman she always knew she could be; that she was at her core. However, the mortal body had its limitations. Her bravado almost carried her all the way there, but just like she said when she first met Cheshire, during their initial encounters, burdens were meant to be shared and shouldered together.
“I’m proud of you…”
It was time. Using one of her razor-sharp nails, she sliced into her own wrist to produce a steady stream of blood. It was the life-blood that Cheshire would need to ingest to complete the transformation, after she foremost drained her of her blood. The process she executed on Ivory once before, and now the same procedure she intended to impose on Cheshire. She had a feeling it would be this way, and she had no regrets.
“Let my blood be yours. I’m gonna save ya…”
Sauntering over to the feline, she knelt behind her. Draping her bloodied arm around her, she leaned closer. Allowing her to feel the strangely warmth breath against her neck, she planted a final kiss against it. Parting her lips, she revealed her enlarged fangs. Her saliva served as a means of removing any pain Cheshire would feel from the following action, which included sinking her fingers into her neck.
As always, it was the sweetest blood she ever tasted. Not because of any dietary habit, but because of who it belonged to. And she would drink and siphon it down her gullet until she sensed the woman’s frigidity and pallor. Then, and only then, would she reach around and press the bloodied wrist against her lips in invitation.
“Now drink, beloved Cheshire.”
Cheshire Copeland | Post 17 | 321/3323 |
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Odin's Spear
tag
@sol
posts
469
balance
jewels
Pronouns
She/Her
OOC name
Solace
Magic
odin's eye
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“Fylliz fiǫrvi feigra manna,”
(It sates itself on the life-blood of fated men,)
Another source of illumination followed the teal glint in Cheshire’s eyes, along with the Godfather’s voice steeped with foreign influence. Challenging the infinite darkness with her own power, she burrowed from Odin himself as she poured the power of her supreme ancestor into her body, using herself as a vessel. Speaking in the language of her Gods, her eyes shone with their familiar intricate design and cerulean glow. Anniken continued to seep a deluge of her magic into Cheshire as she spoke, and it continued intensifying.
“Rýðr ragna siǫt rauðom dreyra,”
(Paints red the powers’ homes with crimson gore.)
Though the darkness would rend her flesh and caress it with a mother’s touch, she continued her incantation. Her voice seemed to carry a masculine undertone as her power flourished, being drawn out to its maximum extent. It was not the first time she struggled against the darkness, but this time it was to provide Cheshire with a window of opportunity. She did not want to dispel the darkness, only to hold it at bay before they were brought to ruin. Little did she know, her mane of golden hair was drenched in black.
“Svǫrt verða sólskin of sumor eptir,”
(Black becomes the sun’s beams, in the summers that follow)
Light began to pervade the darkness around them, coalescing with the umpteen unknown forces and serving as a buffer between the duo and what might have been impending doom. Perhaps she could have turned herself into a bomb to annihilate the plane in a pyrrhic victory at the expense of herself, but she wanted Cheshire and herself to master these powers. To become the rulers within this realm, not the manipulated.
“Veðr ǫll válynd. Vitoð ér enn, eða hvat?”
(Weathers all treacherous. Do you still seek to know? And what?)
A sun within the darkness, she smiled at Cheshire regardless of what she saw before her.
“This is it, Cheshy. Here we are. One chance. Take in these forces with me—but not as the puppet, as the master. You gotta do it,” Anniken said, and Justice finished the sentence. “Because if you don’t, we’re all dead. She’s right. We both want to marry you, and the only way is if we get out of here alive.”
And when she did—it was at that precise moment she would introduce the final step. The siring.
Cheshire Copeland | Post 16 | 407/3002 |
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