09-09-2016, 10:41 PM
Silence. Powerful. Unyielding. Demanding. Eradicating silence.
It pervaded her thoughts, quieting her mind yet forging her into what seemed to be a honed edge.
Jumbled flickers of battlefields. From the present, or memories past, she could no longer tell. Were they teeth of a blade or maw that slashed at her side, causing her clothes to stain purple? The flash of white teeth and silver steel, a hum of heat. The choir of screaming voices, one risen above the rest, berating her over and over again.
What. What could it possibly want now?
Am I really that bad?
You brought this on yourself. Defiler!
Lilith, lovely~ Hurt me again, would you love?
All these lives and memories bleeding into each other, overlain with one solitary scream that pierced through the veil of her foggy memories. It ripped and tore at her frame. The sounds of a thousand gunshots. The sounds of aching metal strained past its breaking point, before it sheared off into ragged and warped piece of art. Pain reached its claws deep into her head and tore at her again. She ran long nailed fingers through her hair and ripped at herself with a feral growl; her body convulsed once as she dropped to her knees in the hard volcanic soil. Her brow furrowed deeply as she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
The scream echoed across both the physical and mental mediums that Ezrihel found themself suspended in. It was a shocking and surprising blow that overrid their mental defenses, weakened by the transition to the Omniverse. This scream was inescapable, only building in intensity the longer it droned on.
LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
Then, once more, silence. Eery and fragile silence, the mind, in the aftermath, wracked with more holes than a fishing net. Foggy eyes look over the ashen landscape as pieces were carefully collected and put together once more. Fingers bled as they traced over familiar cracks in the glass, pushing everything back into place again.
She couldn’t hear her own whimpers as tears fell from her unmoving eyes.
Vulnerable.
You’re vulnerable.
All over again. Vulnerable, once more.
I’m vulnerable.
You’re pathetic, look at you. Unable. Inadequate.
You’re invalid.
Worthless.
Do you really expect to accomplish anything? You’ve done nothing immortalizing in all these lives past. Truly pathetic. You helped man humanity for your own benefit, remember? All you want is control. You crave it, crying out for it like a miserable newborn depraved of its mother’s milk.
Please let it end.
But you rule through chaos, destroying everything that you touch, bringing empires to their knees and baptising yourself in the wake of blood you leave behind you. What are you but a lowly destroyer of order? A wrench in the plans of the noble, an unhealthy dose of entropy, gangrenous necrosis in a wound. You are pus, a broken cog in the machine, nothing more and nothing less.
Kill me.
And you do it all for yourself, thinking of no one and going nowhere.
I don’t want to think of this anymore.
You are the unnecessary defiler.
Let me go.
Disgusting.
Let me go.
Pitiful.
LET ME GO.
She could feel things moving around her, a familiar energy and scent, masked by burnt leather. A flash of energy, light reflected across her glassy eyes.
Then it was gone. The scream completely removed from her reality, but its effects could hardly begin to be guessed at.
The first thing she picked up on was a high pitched whine in her ears, piercing her eardrums as her hazy vision refocused on the landscape before her. A group she remember fighting with at some point or another stood not too far away from where she sat, watching some sort of spectacle's end unfold.
Her weary muscles tensed, allowing her to stand once more. She stumbled a bit as she adjusted her footing to the shifting ashen sands, but quickly composed herself. She would not ever allow herself to appear weak to those around her! Such appearances where simply unbecoming of a being of her stature.
I am not weak...
She grasped her side, still freshly bleeding purple. She scowled as her hand put pressure on the wound, it was inflamed and had angrily welted up where the skin had torn. Her clothes where torn to relative pieces or otherwise dirty and her blonde hair was ruffled, messy and full of soot.
With an annoyed scoff she concentrated on creating a bandage to cover the wound to at least stop herself from bleeding all over the place. Her transition to the omniverse had come with quite a few pleasant and unpleasant surprises and changes; mostly unpleasant though, if she had a say in it.
The most jarring of these sudden changes was her inability to rapidly heal, or for that fact, actually take damage from normal external forces. These stark changes to her basic physiology meant that she had to take things in a much more careful and cautious fashion than she was used to. A lack of the fear of death could do that to someone. Also, a once much higher tolerance to pain and suffering had once dulled her ability to experience pain, but that too had been changed when she was unwillingly drug into this 'omniverse' realm.
The last time she had seen her own blood was when a hole had been punched through her chest by a former lover with the rather annoying and emotional reasoning of "You made me watch as you killed my family." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the memory of that lovely encounter. It seemed that some people refused to accept logic and be reasoned with in the slightest. Her dear sweet Lilith had always been a rather fickle and irrational woman, going to such great extents to punch as many holes through Ezrihel's body as possible while screaming about the sanctity of things such as life and how you can't just go around killing children.
Am I really that bad?
Why not? She could remember arguing at one point. Why couldn't she just go around, killing any she please? What made the women and the children so special that they should be exempt from any and all excessive torture and murder? She had always hated that sanctity of life bullshit reasoning people threw up because they couldn't accept a loss. She simply couldn't understand what made life so sacred. People, humans and her own race alike, killed all kinds of things on a daily basis.
Am I really that bad?
They killed bugs like flies, mosquitoes, gnats, ticks and fleas because they where pests. They killed cows, chickens, pigs, varying types of wild beasts in order to eat and dress fashionably, even as a pointless sport. They held the obsessive drive to kill most forms of micro organisms, because they were pests.
Am I really that bad?
In Ezrihel's eyes, people were pests as well. Tiny little mites deserving of the fate predestined for them, nothing more and nothing less. Life was only sacred to people because those people were living, as the dead had no sorts of input on any part of the situation. It was all worth a bit of a chuckle in the eyes of the Andromedan God, what with the way humans practiced this strange sort of hypocrisy. Things only mattered when they applied to themselves, to hell with anything else, they seemed to scream to the heavens.
Am I really that bad?
Though, Ezrihel did feel a tad bit disappointed that humanity didn't like it when their own logic and ways of living was turned against them, used as a sort of pointed dagger to expose all the little weak spots. Ezzy did, however, love wielding this dagger in a threatening fashion, dragging it teasingly along the soft flesh of the belly of their prey. They loved tearing apart the agency that a victim once held dear, leaving them a vulnerable and quivering wretch before they moved in, breaking and removing any unnecessary and annoying issues before repurposing the husk to their own needs and goals.
Green eyes flash towards the thief they traveled with. Every detail would be memorized here and now. The burnt appearance of his leather armor, how it seemed to stick to his form, making slight cracking noises as he adjusted, shifting and trying to stand up from the soot covered ground. As he moved, she could see how his chest shifted with each exhale, something about it seemed uncomfortable when he inhaled though. Most likely an injury he had sustained during his daring encounter with the master wyrm they had just finished fighting.
The skin that was exposed was dirty, stained dark with volcanic ash and slick with sweat, reflecting some of the heavy light that filtered down through the clouds of thick smoke and smog that blanketed the entire area, casting the entirety of the environment into a hazy rusty orange hue.
His silver-grey eyes showed a sort of defiance, most likely the external expression of his current aches and pains. They were tired but bright in comparison to how is dark hair laid plastered across his forehead with sweat. His cheeks were pulled tight, a sort of dismay at the situation that had just occurred. His lips were cracked and dry from the heat the interior of the volcano had presented. She couldn't help bu notice how he pressed then together into a tight line as he took in everything.
A soft murmuring of the wretched artificial intelligence could be heard, but it was given little attention as she concentrated on the bandage. With a slight scoff, she had decided to go ahead and create new clothes as well as change her hair color while making the bandage. Why? She was tired of fighting to keep such light hair clean looking, especially in this climate. Besides, with how she was currently feeling, she had decided that something darker would suit her best anyway.
Gone where the days where a blonde maiden was viewed as a prized catch. She was no longer in the south, she was no long restrained by humanity's limited concept of what could and couldn't be beautiful. Besides, she liked being able to see her eyebrows and eyelashes more clearly.
With a soft, toying chuckle, she had concepted the idea of the outfit she wished her form to be adorned in, drempt and drew it up in her mind's eye. As a bandage materialized onto her body, seeming to melt out of her body before becoming its own object, her outfit was replaced as well. The process was seamless, a flawless shift to her new clothes.
Her body was now adorned in dark, navy blue fabric that hugged her form. Every edge between her skin and the fabric was lined with a flexible gold thread embroidering. Her neck was covered by a thick metal choker collar, a large chain attached to it, running between her cleavage and attaching to a chain that ran horizontally around her ribs and under her breasts. Metal ribbing supported the fabric that cupped her breasts before hooking into a chained shoulder strap that held her short cape in place around her shoulders.
The metal ribbing met below her belly button, exposing her cleavage and the pale skin of her belly. Another chain ran around her hips, meeting up at a lock that rested just above the crest of her pelvis. A long chain ran down from this lock, and at the end a cast iron key hung.
Her boots has thick metal ribbing, a long guard running up the front of her leg before meeting with the toothed top of her boot. Angry claws made up the knee joint of her boots. Above her boots, her right leg was bare, skin showing without regard to prudish old world views, but her left leg remained covered.
With a swish of her hips, she let herself enjoy the quiet clanking that her chains gave off, the weight they, and the floor length trail of her outfit, added to her frame was pleasant. She sighed, reaching up and stretching before running her hands through her thick hair. Following this motion, black color ran out from the roots of her hair, traveling down the shaft of each strand of hair until her entire mane was a deep ebony black in color.
In a rather confident and almost playful fashion she gave a soft smile, put her hands on her hips and strode forward to Demetri. She made eye contact with him, looking deeply and interestingly into his eyes, really taking the moment to fully gauge and judge his emotional state. Dropping her arms by her sides, she reached her right hand out to brush it against his left arm. Her expression was soft and empathetic.
"Demetri, I am... Somewhat uncertain about your relation to the being that just disappeared, but that being said and known, I can still tell that it mattered to you. Would you mind my asking what its relation to you was? Not meaning to be disrespectful in any way, but that was quite the display... But I don't understand what exactly just happened. In all my lives I have no experience with what exactly I just witnessed was. Forgive my ignorance on the matter."
It pervaded her thoughts, quieting her mind yet forging her into what seemed to be a honed edge.
Jumbled flickers of battlefields. From the present, or memories past, she could no longer tell. Were they teeth of a blade or maw that slashed at her side, causing her clothes to stain purple? The flash of white teeth and silver steel, a hum of heat. The choir of screaming voices, one risen above the rest, berating her over and over again.
What. What could it possibly want now?
Am I really that bad?
You brought this on yourself. Defiler!
Lilith, lovely~ Hurt me again, would you love?
All these lives and memories bleeding into each other, overlain with one solitary scream that pierced through the veil of her foggy memories. It ripped and tore at her frame. The sounds of a thousand gunshots. The sounds of aching metal strained past its breaking point, before it sheared off into ragged and warped piece of art. Pain reached its claws deep into her head and tore at her again. She ran long nailed fingers through her hair and ripped at herself with a feral growl; her body convulsed once as she dropped to her knees in the hard volcanic soil. Her brow furrowed deeply as she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
The scream echoed across both the physical and mental mediums that Ezrihel found themself suspended in. It was a shocking and surprising blow that overrid their mental defenses, weakened by the transition to the Omniverse. This scream was inescapable, only building in intensity the longer it droned on.
LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
Then, once more, silence. Eery and fragile silence, the mind, in the aftermath, wracked with more holes than a fishing net. Foggy eyes look over the ashen landscape as pieces were carefully collected and put together once more. Fingers bled as they traced over familiar cracks in the glass, pushing everything back into place again.
She couldn’t hear her own whimpers as tears fell from her unmoving eyes.
Vulnerable.
You’re vulnerable.
All over again. Vulnerable, once more.
I’m vulnerable.
You’re pathetic, look at you. Unable. Inadequate.
You’re invalid.
Worthless.
Do you really expect to accomplish anything? You’ve done nothing immortalizing in all these lives past. Truly pathetic. You helped man humanity for your own benefit, remember? All you want is control. You crave it, crying out for it like a miserable newborn depraved of its mother’s milk.
Please let it end.
But you rule through chaos, destroying everything that you touch, bringing empires to their knees and baptising yourself in the wake of blood you leave behind you. What are you but a lowly destroyer of order? A wrench in the plans of the noble, an unhealthy dose of entropy, gangrenous necrosis in a wound. You are pus, a broken cog in the machine, nothing more and nothing less.
Kill me.
And you do it all for yourself, thinking of no one and going nowhere.
I don’t want to think of this anymore.
You are the unnecessary defiler.
Let me go.
Disgusting.
Let me go.
Pitiful.
LET ME GO.
She could feel things moving around her, a familiar energy and scent, masked by burnt leather. A flash of energy, light reflected across her glassy eyes.
Then it was gone. The scream completely removed from her reality, but its effects could hardly begin to be guessed at.
The first thing she picked up on was a high pitched whine in her ears, piercing her eardrums as her hazy vision refocused on the landscape before her. A group she remember fighting with at some point or another stood not too far away from where she sat, watching some sort of spectacle's end unfold.
Her weary muscles tensed, allowing her to stand once more. She stumbled a bit as she adjusted her footing to the shifting ashen sands, but quickly composed herself. She would not ever allow herself to appear weak to those around her! Such appearances where simply unbecoming of a being of her stature.
I am not weak...
She grasped her side, still freshly bleeding purple. She scowled as her hand put pressure on the wound, it was inflamed and had angrily welted up where the skin had torn. Her clothes where torn to relative pieces or otherwise dirty and her blonde hair was ruffled, messy and full of soot.
With an annoyed scoff she concentrated on creating a bandage to cover the wound to at least stop herself from bleeding all over the place. Her transition to the omniverse had come with quite a few pleasant and unpleasant surprises and changes; mostly unpleasant though, if she had a say in it.
The most jarring of these sudden changes was her inability to rapidly heal, or for that fact, actually take damage from normal external forces. These stark changes to her basic physiology meant that she had to take things in a much more careful and cautious fashion than she was used to. A lack of the fear of death could do that to someone. Also, a once much higher tolerance to pain and suffering had once dulled her ability to experience pain, but that too had been changed when she was unwillingly drug into this 'omniverse' realm.
The last time she had seen her own blood was when a hole had been punched through her chest by a former lover with the rather annoying and emotional reasoning of "You made me watch as you killed my family." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the memory of that lovely encounter. It seemed that some people refused to accept logic and be reasoned with in the slightest. Her dear sweet Lilith had always been a rather fickle and irrational woman, going to such great extents to punch as many holes through Ezrihel's body as possible while screaming about the sanctity of things such as life and how you can't just go around killing children.
Am I really that bad?
Why not? She could remember arguing at one point. Why couldn't she just go around, killing any she please? What made the women and the children so special that they should be exempt from any and all excessive torture and murder? She had always hated that sanctity of life bullshit reasoning people threw up because they couldn't accept a loss. She simply couldn't understand what made life so sacred. People, humans and her own race alike, killed all kinds of things on a daily basis.
Am I really that bad?
They killed bugs like flies, mosquitoes, gnats, ticks and fleas because they where pests. They killed cows, chickens, pigs, varying types of wild beasts in order to eat and dress fashionably, even as a pointless sport. They held the obsessive drive to kill most forms of micro organisms, because they were pests.
Am I really that bad?
In Ezrihel's eyes, people were pests as well. Tiny little mites deserving of the fate predestined for them, nothing more and nothing less. Life was only sacred to people because those people were living, as the dead had no sorts of input on any part of the situation. It was all worth a bit of a chuckle in the eyes of the Andromedan God, what with the way humans practiced this strange sort of hypocrisy. Things only mattered when they applied to themselves, to hell with anything else, they seemed to scream to the heavens.
Am I really that bad?
Though, Ezrihel did feel a tad bit disappointed that humanity didn't like it when their own logic and ways of living was turned against them, used as a sort of pointed dagger to expose all the little weak spots. Ezzy did, however, love wielding this dagger in a threatening fashion, dragging it teasingly along the soft flesh of the belly of their prey. They loved tearing apart the agency that a victim once held dear, leaving them a vulnerable and quivering wretch before they moved in, breaking and removing any unnecessary and annoying issues before repurposing the husk to their own needs and goals.
Green eyes flash towards the thief they traveled with. Every detail would be memorized here and now. The burnt appearance of his leather armor, how it seemed to stick to his form, making slight cracking noises as he adjusted, shifting and trying to stand up from the soot covered ground. As he moved, she could see how his chest shifted with each exhale, something about it seemed uncomfortable when he inhaled though. Most likely an injury he had sustained during his daring encounter with the master wyrm they had just finished fighting.
The skin that was exposed was dirty, stained dark with volcanic ash and slick with sweat, reflecting some of the heavy light that filtered down through the clouds of thick smoke and smog that blanketed the entire area, casting the entirety of the environment into a hazy rusty orange hue.
His silver-grey eyes showed a sort of defiance, most likely the external expression of his current aches and pains. They were tired but bright in comparison to how is dark hair laid plastered across his forehead with sweat. His cheeks were pulled tight, a sort of dismay at the situation that had just occurred. His lips were cracked and dry from the heat the interior of the volcano had presented. She couldn't help bu notice how he pressed then together into a tight line as he took in everything.
A soft murmuring of the wretched artificial intelligence could be heard, but it was given little attention as she concentrated on the bandage. With a slight scoff, she had decided to go ahead and create new clothes as well as change her hair color while making the bandage. Why? She was tired of fighting to keep such light hair clean looking, especially in this climate. Besides, with how she was currently feeling, she had decided that something darker would suit her best anyway.
Gone where the days where a blonde maiden was viewed as a prized catch. She was no longer in the south, she was no long restrained by humanity's limited concept of what could and couldn't be beautiful. Besides, she liked being able to see her eyebrows and eyelashes more clearly.
With a soft, toying chuckle, she had concepted the idea of the outfit she wished her form to be adorned in, drempt and drew it up in her mind's eye. As a bandage materialized onto her body, seeming to melt out of her body before becoming its own object, her outfit was replaced as well. The process was seamless, a flawless shift to her new clothes.
Her body was now adorned in dark, navy blue fabric that hugged her form. Every edge between her skin and the fabric was lined with a flexible gold thread embroidering. Her neck was covered by a thick metal choker collar, a large chain attached to it, running between her cleavage and attaching to a chain that ran horizontally around her ribs and under her breasts. Metal ribbing supported the fabric that cupped her breasts before hooking into a chained shoulder strap that held her short cape in place around her shoulders.
The metal ribbing met below her belly button, exposing her cleavage and the pale skin of her belly. Another chain ran around her hips, meeting up at a lock that rested just above the crest of her pelvis. A long chain ran down from this lock, and at the end a cast iron key hung.
Her boots has thick metal ribbing, a long guard running up the front of her leg before meeting with the toothed top of her boot. Angry claws made up the knee joint of her boots. Above her boots, her right leg was bare, skin showing without regard to prudish old world views, but her left leg remained covered.
With a swish of her hips, she let herself enjoy the quiet clanking that her chains gave off, the weight they, and the floor length trail of her outfit, added to her frame was pleasant. She sighed, reaching up and stretching before running her hands through her thick hair. Following this motion, black color ran out from the roots of her hair, traveling down the shaft of each strand of hair until her entire mane was a deep ebony black in color.
In a rather confident and almost playful fashion she gave a soft smile, put her hands on her hips and strode forward to Demetri. She made eye contact with him, looking deeply and interestingly into his eyes, really taking the moment to fully gauge and judge his emotional state. Dropping her arms by her sides, she reached her right hand out to brush it against his left arm. Her expression was soft and empathetic.
"Demetri, I am... Somewhat uncertain about your relation to the being that just disappeared, but that being said and known, I can still tell that it mattered to you. Would you mind my asking what its relation to you was? Not meaning to be disrespectful in any way, but that was quite the display... But I don't understand what exactly just happened. In all my lives I have no experience with what exactly I just witnessed was. Forgive my ignorance on the matter."
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