04-03-2016, 05:09 AM
A common theme she noticed in Ramsey’s palace was all the ambient lighting and marble everything. While the lighting was soft, the pale stone gave the place a very cold feel. Even with the decorative fabric draping from the ceiling and cascading down the walls, it lent no warmth to the air around her. All it did was help muffle sound.
The compound itself was huge. She’d only been outside of its walls when not on her way to a match a few times, and had seen its tall spires and expansiveness stretching like a sleeping behemoth against the dark red landscape. Most of the build was outfitted in the same cold marble, accented with swathes of gold and other precious materials.
It went without saying that her “master” was very rich, and in some small way, she’d help contribute to that wealth. While he was paid in coin and other valuable materials, she was allotted only pain, and on the very rare occasion, solitude. As a prime, she couldn’t die; as far as she understood, there was no way for her to lose her life, regardless of what plane of existence she inhabited. Despite this knowledge, she still felt pain, she still bled, and she still had to heal. That solitude afforded her that time to bring herself together in order to face the next day, the next match, or whatever was thrown her way.
Was this really what life was going to be like? An eternity spent here at this monster’s mercy, a slave to a demonic creature whose very will determined what she did, when she did it? Was she just some chattel to be sold from one owner to another, without so much as a word as to what she wanted?
As they approached the entrance to Ramses’ personal quarters, Violet felt her heart speed within her chest. A pressure deep in her stomach grew, knowing whatever was on the other side of that door was not something she was going to like. She had been sold, which meant she was no longer Ramses’ property, but some great big question mark. It was the not knowing what was next that bothered her the most, perhaps more so than actually being traded off to someone else.
The massive mahogany doors yawned open, a cool draft spilling through the crevice and blowing against her oh, so exposed flesh. Her tousled hair fluttered against her shoulders, the sensation sending a shiver down her back. The scent of burning sandalwood and lavender permeated the air around her, a surprisingly pleasant feature Ramses had maintained about his personal space.
Irma shoved her gently from behind, and she realized she hadn’t moved for several moments. The contrast between this area and her room was immensely different, that it was just a shock to her senses to be greeted in such a way.
Around the massive room was more of the decorative fabric, fine rugs made of some unknown material that looked impossibly soft and fluffy, and candles cradled by mosaic glass vases. Thick pillars of granite reached far above her, supporting the ornately decorated ceiling.
Here and there were small groups of lower ranking underlings reclining in piles of pillows, chatting quietly to one another. Her presence wasn’t enough to detract them from their conversations. She wasn’t high enough in rank to earn their attentions.
Deeper into the room, hidden behind a cascade of shimmery fabric, Ramses lounged casually behind a large oval table. A variety of food was spread across its surface, and Violet suddenly became hungrier than she could remember. Although she could access the pantry any time she wanted, the selection of anything remotely edible wasn’t that great.
Lilac hair spilled across his shoulders in frothy waves, framing an elegantly relaxed face. His eyes were deeply set into that beautiful face, twin points of crimson against pale flesh. His left eye was most striking with the deep red marking that swirled from temple to jaw. Lips that were pleasantly bowed curved into a knowing smile. The rest of him was just as lovely, but that beauty was only superficial; there was nothing beautiful about who Ramses was beyond his looks.
He motioned towards her. “Come, sit. Eat.”
Violet eyed him cautiously, one brow crooking slightly. Irma shoved her forward. “Go.”
Tossing the other woman a scornful side eye, Violet took a seat across from her “master”, or was that former master?
Ramses poured himself another drink, tea, she presumed. The smell was sweet and slightly bitter as it wafted towards her. He sat the pot down, pushing it suggestively towards her. “Lemon and jasmine herbal tea, quite lovely;” Ramses lifted the cup to his lips, sipping the hot liquid. His eyes fluttered, savoring the flavor. “It’s not bergamot, but it is nice nonetheless.”
Violet looked at the pot as if it were something foul. Pride demanded her not to take part in his little party, but hunger was quickly making its presence something she struggled to overcome.
“I assume you have received my gift,” Ramses began, sitting his cup down in front of him. “Has Irma explained its significance?”
She nodded. “I’ve been sold,” Violet growled. “Sold like some kind of animal.”
“You know how this game goes,” Ramses chided. “While you have been quite valuable to establishing my stable of fighters, and thus, my income, I could no longer ignore the offer that was being put before me.”
“And what offer would that be?”
His lips curved upward in a simpering grin. “A chance to rank up, to add to my wealth and my reach across this sector of the Underverse.”
“So, I’m just a way for you to get richer. Surprising,” she sneered.
“Come now, Violet, that’s the way it’s always been. You’re a slave, the bottom of the ladder, and there, you will remain.”
“Unless I kill someone higher up than myself.”
Ramses nodded, albeit apprehensively. “Correct,” he said. “But no matter how skilled you may be inside the ring, you are no match for any of my soldiers.”
“You wanna put money on that?”
“You know me too well,” he laughed then, a joltingly pleasant sound that betrayed the tone of the conversation. “Ten thousand credits if you are victorious. Not enough to buy your freedom, as that is up to your new master, but enough to let you be comfortable for a little while.”
Violet stood. “Alright,” she turned to face Irma, who instinctively took a step back. A subtle glow pulsed beneath her skin, a soft rosy light that reached to her eyes, flooding them in a crimson cowl. With a piercing roar, Violet’s hand shot out, through one of the peepholes in the leather that crisscrossed Irma’s chest, and deep into her flesh. Through the bone, and muscle, her fingers wrapped around Irma’s beating heart and she smiled.
“Bye bye, Irma.” Her arm jerked back, pulling the other woman’s heart from her chest, a spill of blood gushing from the hole left behind. Violet’s hand lit up, incinerating the organ to into fiery oblivion.
Irma’s face paled even more than her usual whiteness, so pale from blood loss that Violet was sure she would never recover. Irma fell to her knees, eyes wild with pain and uncertainty. “I cannot…die…I…it’s not…possible.”
“Maybe not from this, but definitely this;” Violet grabbed a fistful of Irma’s hair, fingers locked close to the scalp. Bracing a foot on the fallen woman’s shoulder, she twisted the skull and pulled back, Irma’s head coming off with a sickeningly wet shlop! She tossed the severed head to the ground, then squashed it with her foot. Brains and blood and bone squished between her toes, which she smeared across the surely expensive rug she stood on.
Ramses face remained neutral, all except the burn of his crimson eyes, eyes whose light matched her own. “You will pay for that,” he seethed.
“I’ve simply done as you’ve said, I’ve killed someone of higher rank. I believe you owe me some credits, sir.”
With a frightening roar, Ramses bolted to his feet, the table shoved forward with such force that many of its items spilled to the ground. His hand reached forward, the invisible fingers of his energy surging towards her to wrap around her neck and lift her from the floor.
Her body dangled, breath coming in labored rasps as she struggled against his force. “You…you lied,” she gasped. His energy buffeted her bare flesh in scalding waves as his anger intensified.
“How could such a lowly creature defeat my Irma? HOW?”
“You saw it with your own eyes,” she replied.
He screamed, those invisible fingers clenching tighter around her neck. “You will die for what you have done!”
“Enough of this,” a familiar voice came from behind the curtains. Nathaniel stepped out from the recesses of the spacious room, dressed completely in black leather, his raven hair spilling loosely down his body. “Put her down, Ramses. You are defiling my property.”
Her body froze. What? THIS was who she was sold to? Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Ramses released her abruptly, and she crumpled to the ground. Her body sloshed in what remained of Irma’s skull contents, some of the shards of bone slicing into her legs. Her blood mingled with the quickly cooling liquid, and a jolt of something electric shivered through her. As Violet lay there, naked and reeling from the power, she could feel herself closing in on herself, the realization that her new master was the last person she wanted or expected.
Nathaniel stood over her, legs splayed in a wide V as he looked down. “Congratulations, love. You’ve ranked up. Now, come stand with your master.”
The compound itself was huge. She’d only been outside of its walls when not on her way to a match a few times, and had seen its tall spires and expansiveness stretching like a sleeping behemoth against the dark red landscape. Most of the build was outfitted in the same cold marble, accented with swathes of gold and other precious materials.
It went without saying that her “master” was very rich, and in some small way, she’d help contribute to that wealth. While he was paid in coin and other valuable materials, she was allotted only pain, and on the very rare occasion, solitude. As a prime, she couldn’t die; as far as she understood, there was no way for her to lose her life, regardless of what plane of existence she inhabited. Despite this knowledge, she still felt pain, she still bled, and she still had to heal. That solitude afforded her that time to bring herself together in order to face the next day, the next match, or whatever was thrown her way.
Was this really what life was going to be like? An eternity spent here at this monster’s mercy, a slave to a demonic creature whose very will determined what she did, when she did it? Was she just some chattel to be sold from one owner to another, without so much as a word as to what she wanted?
As they approached the entrance to Ramses’ personal quarters, Violet felt her heart speed within her chest. A pressure deep in her stomach grew, knowing whatever was on the other side of that door was not something she was going to like. She had been sold, which meant she was no longer Ramses’ property, but some great big question mark. It was the not knowing what was next that bothered her the most, perhaps more so than actually being traded off to someone else.
The massive mahogany doors yawned open, a cool draft spilling through the crevice and blowing against her oh, so exposed flesh. Her tousled hair fluttered against her shoulders, the sensation sending a shiver down her back. The scent of burning sandalwood and lavender permeated the air around her, a surprisingly pleasant feature Ramses had maintained about his personal space.
Irma shoved her gently from behind, and she realized she hadn’t moved for several moments. The contrast between this area and her room was immensely different, that it was just a shock to her senses to be greeted in such a way.
Around the massive room was more of the decorative fabric, fine rugs made of some unknown material that looked impossibly soft and fluffy, and candles cradled by mosaic glass vases. Thick pillars of granite reached far above her, supporting the ornately decorated ceiling.
Here and there were small groups of lower ranking underlings reclining in piles of pillows, chatting quietly to one another. Her presence wasn’t enough to detract them from their conversations. She wasn’t high enough in rank to earn their attentions.
Deeper into the room, hidden behind a cascade of shimmery fabric, Ramses lounged casually behind a large oval table. A variety of food was spread across its surface, and Violet suddenly became hungrier than she could remember. Although she could access the pantry any time she wanted, the selection of anything remotely edible wasn’t that great.
Lilac hair spilled across his shoulders in frothy waves, framing an elegantly relaxed face. His eyes were deeply set into that beautiful face, twin points of crimson against pale flesh. His left eye was most striking with the deep red marking that swirled from temple to jaw. Lips that were pleasantly bowed curved into a knowing smile. The rest of him was just as lovely, but that beauty was only superficial; there was nothing beautiful about who Ramses was beyond his looks.
He motioned towards her. “Come, sit. Eat.”
Violet eyed him cautiously, one brow crooking slightly. Irma shoved her forward. “Go.”
Tossing the other woman a scornful side eye, Violet took a seat across from her “master”, or was that former master?
Ramses poured himself another drink, tea, she presumed. The smell was sweet and slightly bitter as it wafted towards her. He sat the pot down, pushing it suggestively towards her. “Lemon and jasmine herbal tea, quite lovely;” Ramses lifted the cup to his lips, sipping the hot liquid. His eyes fluttered, savoring the flavor. “It’s not bergamot, but it is nice nonetheless.”
Violet looked at the pot as if it were something foul. Pride demanded her not to take part in his little party, but hunger was quickly making its presence something she struggled to overcome.
“I assume you have received my gift,” Ramses began, sitting his cup down in front of him. “Has Irma explained its significance?”
She nodded. “I’ve been sold,” Violet growled. “Sold like some kind of animal.”
“You know how this game goes,” Ramses chided. “While you have been quite valuable to establishing my stable of fighters, and thus, my income, I could no longer ignore the offer that was being put before me.”
“And what offer would that be?”
His lips curved upward in a simpering grin. “A chance to rank up, to add to my wealth and my reach across this sector of the Underverse.”
“So, I’m just a way for you to get richer. Surprising,” she sneered.
“Come now, Violet, that’s the way it’s always been. You’re a slave, the bottom of the ladder, and there, you will remain.”
“Unless I kill someone higher up than myself.”
Ramses nodded, albeit apprehensively. “Correct,” he said. “But no matter how skilled you may be inside the ring, you are no match for any of my soldiers.”
“You wanna put money on that?”
“You know me too well,” he laughed then, a joltingly pleasant sound that betrayed the tone of the conversation. “Ten thousand credits if you are victorious. Not enough to buy your freedom, as that is up to your new master, but enough to let you be comfortable for a little while.”
Violet stood. “Alright,” she turned to face Irma, who instinctively took a step back. A subtle glow pulsed beneath her skin, a soft rosy light that reached to her eyes, flooding them in a crimson cowl. With a piercing roar, Violet’s hand shot out, through one of the peepholes in the leather that crisscrossed Irma’s chest, and deep into her flesh. Through the bone, and muscle, her fingers wrapped around Irma’s beating heart and she smiled.
“Bye bye, Irma.” Her arm jerked back, pulling the other woman’s heart from her chest, a spill of blood gushing from the hole left behind. Violet’s hand lit up, incinerating the organ to into fiery oblivion.
Irma’s face paled even more than her usual whiteness, so pale from blood loss that Violet was sure she would never recover. Irma fell to her knees, eyes wild with pain and uncertainty. “I cannot…die…I…it’s not…possible.”
“Maybe not from this, but definitely this;” Violet grabbed a fistful of Irma’s hair, fingers locked close to the scalp. Bracing a foot on the fallen woman’s shoulder, she twisted the skull and pulled back, Irma’s head coming off with a sickeningly wet shlop! She tossed the severed head to the ground, then squashed it with her foot. Brains and blood and bone squished between her toes, which she smeared across the surely expensive rug she stood on.
Ramses face remained neutral, all except the burn of his crimson eyes, eyes whose light matched her own. “You will pay for that,” he seethed.
“I’ve simply done as you’ve said, I’ve killed someone of higher rank. I believe you owe me some credits, sir.”
With a frightening roar, Ramses bolted to his feet, the table shoved forward with such force that many of its items spilled to the ground. His hand reached forward, the invisible fingers of his energy surging towards her to wrap around her neck and lift her from the floor.
Her body dangled, breath coming in labored rasps as she struggled against his force. “You…you lied,” she gasped. His energy buffeted her bare flesh in scalding waves as his anger intensified.
“How could such a lowly creature defeat my Irma? HOW?”
“You saw it with your own eyes,” she replied.
He screamed, those invisible fingers clenching tighter around her neck. “You will die for what you have done!”
“Enough of this,” a familiar voice came from behind the curtains. Nathaniel stepped out from the recesses of the spacious room, dressed completely in black leather, his raven hair spilling loosely down his body. “Put her down, Ramses. You are defiling my property.”
Her body froze. What? THIS was who she was sold to? Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Ramses released her abruptly, and she crumpled to the ground. Her body sloshed in what remained of Irma’s skull contents, some of the shards of bone slicing into her legs. Her blood mingled with the quickly cooling liquid, and a jolt of something electric shivered through her. As Violet lay there, naked and reeling from the power, she could feel herself closing in on herself, the realization that her new master was the last person she wanted or expected.
Nathaniel stood over her, legs splayed in a wide V as he looked down. “Congratulations, love. You’ve ranked up. Now, come stand with your master.”
![[Image: visig2018.png]](http://epiqz.com/mysigs/visig2018.png)