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 Posted: Sat May 01, 2010 12:59 pm
That woman really saved her trouble.
Blood-colored symbols gushed from the ceiling and the wall where her brushes struck, crawling all over the walls and filling the air. Even the two brushes that the woman held prisoner. They bled words that commanded the fire of stars, filling up the room with such an excruciating light, not a single shadow remained in the whiteout. This was what she had been waiting for.
The final brush was lying in a corner of the room and a fourth brush that she had in her hand flew into a corner of the room behind Claire. Perhaps... she never threw the brushes to attack Claire. She threw them to mark the room with her blood. The fact she threw the closer to Claire was, in fact, a trap for her to take the brushes herself. Claire's hiding them in her shadow sanctuary made work even easier for her... for she suspected that there was a way to make even the safest place hostile.
Four points created a triangular-based pyramid -- a tetrahedron, as some may call it -- and set the space inside on fire, Claire included, since she had thrown the brush behind that woman. The world inside her 'barrier' was filled with the light of white flames. She could not summon enough fire to burn the woman since star-grade flames cost more energy than she could afford to spare. However, a miniscule amount of it spread of a large area was as blinding as looking directly at a light. Even if that woman tried to press against the ground and create shadow to escape, she might find that the two brushes she held prisoner were flooding starlight into the very place she called 'home.'
Of course, most of this was her speculation. The Dollmaker told her that she 'had yet to obtain perfection.' There was a very high chance her assumptions could be incorrect. Those brushes, whose existence, like hers, even light and shadow denied could never fully fall under the jurisdiction of the natural world. In a way, neither light nor shadow acknowledged their existences. Ask a shadow whether there were brushes inside and if it could speak, it would say 'no.'
The drawback? It was a pain to retrieve them, especially since it was exuding an explosive light source from unknown coordinates.
Assuming her previous assumptions were incorrect, she figured that it would still be hard for this stay-in-the-back fighter who runs rather than stands ground in combat to retreat. Nia's entire outer robe shed, leaving her in what looked like a corset, detached sleeves, and a skirt so short it was sinful. All is fair in love and war.
But she no longer weight half a ton. Movement came so easily to her now that scaling up the wall was like ballet. She switched Dexter to defense and Sinister to offensive, using the longer blade to attack and the shorter to defend. The separated blades of the Reaping Shears were heavy, with dexter around ten to fifteen pounds and Sinister about twenty to twenty-five. They both vibrated like buzz saws to boot. Dexter's serrated edge could easily shear through metal. A single strike from them could mean serious damage.
Mechanisms moved inside of her amber-red eyes. Her right eye closed and her left eye exuded black fire, allowing her to see clearly inside what would be a blind-zone for many others. She was unsure of Claire's visibility in such an area and so she assumed that Claire would be ready to defend a vicious onslaught.
There was a point to having the blades separate. Together, they were a giant pair of scissors weight a full fourty or more pounds... a great offensive weapon to break through simple defenses. However, for a crafty opponent like Claire, she remembered to divide and conquer. The defensive blade was meant to block and the offensive meant to attack. Rather, the defensive blade was meant to maximize the counter attack of the offensive blade.
((Since there's so much stuff going on, I'll leave it at her charging in and give Claire some space to formulate.))
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Posted: Sat May 01, 2010 2:36 pm
Claire's eyes darted around. Blood was everywhere, how was there blood everywhere? Then, before she seemed to blink, she was trapped in a pyramid of light. How ironic. Now she couldn't see, it was too bright. To save herself from becomming eternally blind, she shut her eyes tightly and instead used her finely-tuned hearing. There weren't many options she had left. Definately no more sneaking about. Good things she had already decided to not go tot eh shadows unless she desperately needed it. That made the loss of darkness less severe to her. Still, now she was in danger, and this toy was not given the same orders as the half-demon was. Fleur told Claire not to break the doll too much, he never told the doll to keep from killing Claire. Now the doll was charging. Good thing Claire had one last ace in the hole.
Taking a single step forward, she lifted one hand and stretched it out in front of her. From there, several things happened in just a few seconds worth of time. The metal she had scattered had started to gather together once more. Whatever was on the woman slipped off and shot towards Claire. She was gathering it together then. She was, in essence, done fighting. Like normal people, she got tired. Like a machine, the doll did not. So Claire decided to just do as she normally did when she was low on energy; dance. It took little to no effort at all, for her metal to boost her into the air. Through this mean, she just kept moving, at a blurring race, letting her metal protect her as it did, and launch her this way and that, unpredictably. The doll could not hurt Claire if she kept moving out of the way, so that was what she would do.
"Congrats, you are much better than I expected. I do believe Sire is quite pleased with you." She gave the doll a smile, though she kept on the move. "I look forward to seeing you in action again our Master's enemies..." Conversation was always a good way to pas the time, though... she wondered if her words would slur with her movement? She left no time for pause, keeping her eyes shut. One may think that that would make her acrobatic feats much more difficult, if not impossible... However, as the saying went, "you don't need to know where you're going, just need to know where you've been." It was a ture thing, after all, that was part of how she got around in the shadows. It wasn't like she could see everything perfectly all the time... it was only when she peered out of the shaow of a person or object, otherwise it was complete darkness.
Claire wasn't a sore loser, nor was she a boastful winner, and she saw this as more of a tie than anything though maybe on the losing end of a tie. She wondered though, would that make her less favorable to her Master? Was she supposed to be the winner? She was the senior member of the faction, but still... the doll did not live, meaning she could not get weak or weary. On top of that, she had excellent offensive and defensive skills, plus the ability to set traps in an opponent's own home turf. Why would Sire want a servant like me... when he has someone like her now? There really was no comparison. Eventually Claire would get too tired and end up dead. What was she now?
"What do you think, Sire? Is she better than what you were told?" Her voice called out to their Master, beyond the barrier of the light blinding trap. It was because she was curious of his thoughts on this matter. There were so many questions she had, she was sure the doll could do more than she showed here. Claire would have to find out more... though through a more conversational method. The one thing she didn't like much, when she sparred, she liked to talk. Talk and dance around in the air.
(sorry, but I couldn' live with myself if I kept that post. I had to edit.)
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Posted: Sat May 01, 2010 3:22 pm
((I'll just go along with it and follow Nia's protocol and personality.))
No command was given to stop the fight. For the Doll, there was no such thing as defeat. If the woman before had decided to let her go, she was going to fight back until commanded to stop. Her brushes reappeared on her bandolier, her body barely tired from the fight at all. That level of maneuver was nothing.
The doll smiled back now, not caring at all that she had just been given praise... in fact, the smile was the same, artificial friendliness she had presented when they had been introduced. The blades joined to a pair of whirring scissors, buzzing even stronger than before. Her body spun in an elegant dance of crimson silks and pearl-gray hair. The blades were not only on the inside but also the outside, making her weapon four times as deadly when she bore down on the woman incessantly with the intention to kill.
When asked to use her combat skills, she always killed unless commanded otherwise. In the case that she fails, she would pursue the previously stated target unless commanded otherwise. Unless if Fleur himself ordered her to stop, she would not hold back... a doll that rose from the dead.
She moved much faster without the most of her armor. The blades of her scissors looked like the wings of a bird, the flight feathers doubled, a swooping osprey. With the blades opened, she spun them for the woman's middle, immediately following up with a series of hand-to-hand combat maneuvers. Her blood exploded around her when she ejected all invasive metals but she didn't slow for even a moment. It did not look like those wounds were repairing as quickly as they had been before and she dripped the ruby-red liquid like crystals rolling off of her skin. Her blood was as thin as water...
The denser the woman made her defenses, the smaller surface area she would be able to cover. That was the law of conservation, a law that she knew very well because it dictated the fact of her borrowed existence. The Dollmaker drilled that into her. For every pro, there was a con. If the woman wanted to strengthen her weapon, she could make it denser... but it would also become thinner and smaller, being less capable of protecting her from every angle or withstanding an strike specifically angled.
Her feet moved with surgical precision, stepping around the woman's feet playfully. After all, the implied command was to 'play,' wasn't it? And what was playing if it wasn't fun? She put on her best smile, a gentle, almost motherly look... maybe sisterly, even... a look that could put 'La Pieta''s elegance and melancholy to shame... a look that didn't match her murderous body.
"Your flattery is too much for a Servant as I, My Lady." Her voice was not out of breath... perhaps it was because she had not been breathing? "I am but a Weapon. I apologize if my suggestion might seem rude, but congratulations should be saved for real people."
Well spoken like a real Servant.
The light of the barrier had fallen long before but the remnants lit the room like a dance floor. Between playful roundhouse kicks and spinning shears, her delicate, skirtless footwork was more life than death... as expected of a living paradox created by the finest Artisan.
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Posted: Sat May 01, 2010 6:36 pm
(since I edited my last post, your first two paragraphs don't really apply anymore... I'll continue as if they aren''t there, perhaps? )
Perhaps the doll wasn't as finely tuned as Claire thought. Normally the term spar meant a testing of skills, not an all out, death match. Then again, could she really expect an object to be that intelligent. Perhaps the maker made a mistake and did not add a dictionary into the mechanical brain of this thing. Nevertheless, Claire just had to focus on staying away for now. Staying alive and staying away.
It was amzing how fast her blades moved, it was like seeing a bird in motiond. Wait... seeing? Claire hadn't noticed that she could see again, the blinding light had mostly disappated, leaving pretty shimmers all along the throne room. If she were born a feline beast, she would chase them. However, the blades weren't all she had to fend off, it was this woman's limbs, too. The girl twisted and glided out of the way, almost as graceful as the doll, but not quite. She had to continue pole-vaulting herself in the air, to keep the blades away from her, and ocasionally shift her metal into some sort of weapon to block a kick here and there. Still, now she recieved a ligth cut every now and then. The woman had gotten a little too fast for the girl's taste. Now her own crimson beaded and dropped tot he floor. One thing she noticed, the woman willinging let her own blood spill from here. The reasons why, Claire did not know. However, that wasn't importaint... at least the girl saw no importaince in that fact. What she did see was the slowing of the regeneration. Was it because it was being used too much, or because of the blood that left her?
Now it was Claire who was being danced around. The woman finally taking to the term "play" though the half-demon could still feel the murderous intent. What was worse was the downright creepy sime, like a china doll sitting on a shelf waiting for a little child to grab it before it shattered to pieces, bloodying the little one, scarring the kid for life. Well, she was just going to avoid being around this doll, and with that, Claire use her metal at it's full strength and flexability to spring herslef to a shadowed wall. It was there she disappeared, taking a short break. She had to regroup.
When the darkness swallowed her it felt as it should. It was light and cool, and comforting to her. The heaviness she felt with the brushes did not exist any longer. They must have returned to her like my metal returns to me... In the shadows she could not heal her own wounds, but she did hear the echo of the doll's voice as she finally replied to Claire compliments. Is she trying to act high and mighty or what? Something about how those words were said twitched Claire the wrong way. So, she appeared out of another shadow, and rolled her eyes. "Ya know, it's proper to not speak at all if you can't appreciate a nice word from someone else." To emphasize her thoughts, she threw a very precise needle at the woman. It would not stick into her, but merely graze, pass through, and disappear into the shadows on the other side. Then she disappeared again, and reappeared out of another. She threw another needle, letting it graze, pass and disappear in shdow again. Her goal was to see how much blood she could draw, and she did this over and over, from various angles, continuing to speed up once again.The thing about getting tired... it unlocked a back-up mechanism in the brain that suddenly gave you a burst of energy. Or at least that was what it always seemed like.
(Yata, we think it's about time..? )
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Posted: Sat May 01, 2010 7:21 pm
Aideen raised an eyebrow, that must have been a strange movement, something not normal in combat. She peeked out from behind the corner, staying in the shadows. Well, it seems I was right after all... Aideen thought to herself, still wondering exactly what was going on. She wasn't going to leave out of that spot yet, but simply observe, and modify her fighting style according to their movements. Of course just looking was dangerous enough so she went back to listening. I'll have to fully analyze their way of fighting later. She smirked and shook her head, it was a bad habit, but a useful one.
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Posted: Wed May 12, 2010 11:52 pm
Fleur watched with interested eyes, deep with blood red brooding. He noticed a stray knight observing from a distance. He was a bit peeved by this; she was not summoned, and had not bothered to present herself properly. He let this go for now though, as the main event entertained him indeed.
Such a shame, Claire had so much potential, yet most of her fighting was not fighting, but evading. It was a well on strategy if your opponent could tire, but Nia could not. She had to be broken, and even then...
He smiled sinisterly behind his face.
Despite the lack of shadows, light could never erase shadow, only drive it further from it origin.
...and the greater the light, the larger the shadow.
Claire had not taken heed of a few choice and potential shadows, including one that could not be cast off, no matter how powerful the light.
The Shadow of Lord Fleur was readily available... if Claire would dare to brave it's deep and terrible depths.
Nia attacked and Claire evaded... the fight becoming quite repetitive through this.
The thought brought him to his toy. She was all he had been lead to believe, deceptive and infinitely capable of deadliness. Though in the end... she was just another tool, he supposed.
The prospect disappointed him slightly... The Hades Butterfly could not differentiate between a well worth battle to the death, and a simple spar. If this continued, Claire would die, and by the laws of the Knights of Internal Darkness, Nia would then have to be dismantled... permanently.
Not wanting to loose anyone in particular, Fleur stopped the, what had begun as, a very interesting spar, now turned repetitive and monotonous act.
He wasn't so displeased, they had both done what they were told for the most part, but any more and Fleur was likely to fall asleep.
The vines were faster than anything any normal person could ever see, or ever notice... it even took Captain Ataire a few seconds to notice that the two fighters had stopped moving completely, both seemingly frozen in time.
Or rather, tied in their exact current positions by precision placed vines that despite being thin, were well strong enough to surpass some of the strongest metals and jewels on earth.
Neither Claire or Nia could move a millimeter, even if that was the thing they had striven most in life, they would not move.
"That is well enough."
Fleur said in a calm demeanor.
"Both of you have shown me your potentials, and I am not displeased."
When Fleur was sure no other act would be done against the other, the vines disengaged both parties, literally moving them and their joints in a standing position, and gently putting their feet on the ground. The vines retracted into the ground, and the two were free to formerly end the spar with a respectful bow to each other before garnering the attention of their master.
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 4:39 pm
It took a second for Claire to realize she had been frozen in midair. Then it took another second for her to realize why. Long, but thread-like vines had captured her and the doll, holding them in place. As much as she wanted to, to preserve her dignity or what was left, she refused to breath a sigh of relief. Instead, she merely relaxed in her Sire's hold. He would do as he saw fit, and she would trust him. Then his voice rang out in the newfound silent of the throne room. He is not displeased... that is good, but... he didn't say he was pleased either... That means I didn't do well enough... What was left of the eagerness before, the tiredness from the fight, and the disappointment in herself melted out of her eyes as she resumed her usual demeanor in the throne room. One of passive and blank manner.
She waited until she touched the ground and the vegitation seeped back into the floor before she turned to Nia. Her liquid metal, knowing the battle was over, returned to it's usual state, as the living armor on her body, only it stretched itself down her legs, to her ankles, and along her arms to her wrists as well. Sad to say, she needed a little help moving herself, and the liquid did just that without making it look mechanical. At least she looked a lot better than the state Nia seemed to be in. As was traditional for her clan, she formed her hands into fists, moving her left arm to settle behind her back, and lifting the right hand over her heart, then bowing at the waist, but only at a slieght angle. It was low enough to show respect, but not eneigh to block her vision. It was also clan tradition to meet the eyes of the opponent when bowing. Just because you must respect them did not mean you had to trust them. This was not out of distrust for Fleur. She knew ell enough he would keep her from being murdered by a fellow knight. It was just habit and, as stated before, clan tradition. From there she walked up and took her normal position when she stood before his thron, kneeling before him once more.
She kept her head bowed, though she wished to remove the droplets that had started to run from her forehead and neck, down her face and back. Forgive me, Sire... I should have done better for you. She hoped that she would not be seen as less than she had been before... She knew she wouldn't be noticed as anything better, but being considered the same was better than less. Then a thought struck her. Why did he save me? I'm practically useless compared to her. If he wanted, he could have simply let her kill me and be done with it. I don't get it. Why..? What good am I to him in comparision..? Her mind continued to wander. What would go on next? Would Fleur wish to hear what she had learned about the spar and her opponent? Or would he rather move on and meet the other new recruits... and... mark them...?
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 7:26 pm
She hid her human face. She, too, had grown bored of the fight... the woman differentiated entertaining and tail-wagging like she herself differentiated sparring and killing. An evasive battle was about as amusing as watching a clock tick. Claire did not cooperate with her own offensive style and thus, a good five minutes was wasted. Nia mentally ticked off her own faults as well as her body was set to the ground. The degree of force distributed at a time throughout her body was still slightly off. Her control needed more work. She also had to learn how to deal with pesky creatures like this stealth-type fighter quickly and effectively...
She bowed, sweeping the skirts on her arm out of its knots and swirling it in a most elegant pattern around her body... a matador's flag. Her right hand, two fingers outstretched and her wrist angled in femininity, cross her ribs as she bent forward in the bow of a Servant. Her left arm, still holding her scissors, propped the weapon up behind her with her wrist against her spine. It dematerialized by the time she rose again. Her eyes would not meet Claire's eyes directly. They, instead, looked at her cheeks... a sign of respect from a servant to a free-person.
Following suit, she placed herself slightly behind Claire's position, again out of respect for hierarchy, and knelt with her now reattached skirts fanned in a perfect pattern around her. She did not sweat... nor was she out of breath... A doll was a doll looked...
just as respect was respect looked. Her eyes, pious only a moment before, bore glassy spikes into Claire's back. Perhaps the woman would feel the almost condescending iciness climbing along her spine... but if she had any brains she wouldn't look behind her. Nia was not a threat. However, an exquisite doll like her had to find time and place to vent her human feelings away from the eyes of her Master. Naturally, she knew that Fleur would not like them to violate the laws of their order and would eventually stop them... so she had purposefully interpreted the word 'play' as an act of 'purpose-based violence' and continued the battle without limitation. She would not mind if Fleur saw that in her... he would know that she could hold her own in society and wasn't just a pretty letter opener to set on a table in the front hall.
But mainly, she wanted Claire to know it... She wanted Claire to understand that though Claire would be given the respect and services she provides for being a superior, patronizing her and treating her like a toy was something only Fleur, her rightful Master, was entitled to do. Nia wanted her to feel the glare piercing into her back as a warning.
It amused her... how easy the woman was to read. Her fears and insecurities positively RADIATED off of her. Her inner malice laughed and her innocent face did nothing. To everyone else, being everyone except for Clair and the Lord Fleur, she would remain as tranquil and empty as ever. Probably even the Captain wouldn't be able to sense the dull, low-proximity aura of psychotic dignity steaming off of her flawless figure. Beauty rivaling the Catholic's image of the Virgin herself matched with such a sinful, rotting inside... the name Hades' Butterfly was most fitting. Inside ever Butterfly was a vile, parasitic caterpillar.
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 8:56 pm
Her Sire had yet to tell her to rise once again, so she froze herself in her kneel, made easier by her metal keeping her in place. That did not mean she didn't notice the tingling she was feeling along her spine. The doll had taken a position behind her, and she could think of no knight who would really hate her... Why is she glaring at me? What did I do? She was the one going overboard, not me! She did not look behind her, not because she was afraid of Nia, she wasn't... just a little nervous, but because it would be disrespectful to Lord Fleur.
Deciding she didn't want to think about the not-so-person behind her, Claire inwardly debated on whether to ask her Sire the questions that were eating at her. The Captain was still in the back with the new recruits. She didn't want to show them weakness and insecurities. Especially not the Captain. What would he think of her then? Unfortunately, the not knowing was eating away at her, so she took in a deep breath. If she phrased it as if curiosity, then maybe... "Sire, I was wondering..." Her head was still lowered as she spoke quietly. "Behind me kneels a weapon of immense power and possibility. Excellent offense, constant regeneration, never tiring at all... if you obtained more like her, well, what use would you have for us, Sire?" She paused, carefully choosing her words as she promised. "Those of us who are among the living, we have a point to where we reach a limit and cannot go further. That goes doubly for those who also have no regeneration abilties of their own, as I know some have at least that... but they still tire after a time." Her eyes were closed, as if to want to escape the inevitable, but she reopened them and finished what she was trying to say. "Strategically, Sire, those like me, for instance, would be... is out-dated the right word?" She wasn't sure. Maybe it was obsolete, or useless. "You stopped our spar, allowing me to live when your new toy could have easily just replaced me. I'm afraid I do not understand why someone like me is any good to you or for your purposes when you have her."
Biting her lip, she quietly ammended. "I'm not ungrateful, Sire. Really. I am just... confused... Please forgive me."
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 9:51 pm
Fleur examined both Claire and Nia with care... looking them over as their battle ended, and they showed respect towards each other. Despite this... the self doubt within Claire was as perfume around her... and the icy hostility of Nia was similar.
Fleur could see it clearly.
Fleur however, was intrigued to hear Claire's thoughts out in the open.
The Dark Lord sat, emotionless, listening to the young girl wonder why she was not replaced... why Fleur did not replace all the knights with these seemingly perfect toys.
Fleur patiently listened, and when Claire finished, there was silence.
Lord Tyrannus Fleur caught Captain Cornelius Ataire in a small hidden smile.
Fleur looked to him momentarily in the silence, their eyes met, and The Captain made a small nod.
The Dark Lord smiled a small, humble smile. Something almost impossible to such an all powerful being.
The Fleur let out a very soft laugh, shaking his head slightly.
"My dear Claire... you seem to be very unenlightened as to the nature of our world... it is not your fault... you are still young, and have yet to experience the truth."
Tyrannus Fleur did something very unexpected.
It was a graceful action... the roots that made up Fleur's lower half unwound, twisted and separated, snaked and uncoiled... until the mans true lower half was exposed, revealing a simply covered pair of legs in black silk pants, and bear feet.
Fleur's toes curled as he gave a few good steps forward, feeling the cold, hard ground for the first time in what had been many many moons.
They tightened and loosened in their spot, The Dark Lord enjoying his momentary usage of his legs once more, which he missed using greatly.
"...You see, Claire..." Fleur continued as he slowly made his way closer to his Knights.
"This world is governed by the strong of will."
Fleur stopped finally... he was in front of everyone, the target of all eyes in the room.
"...it is governed by the powerful, no doubt... but power comes in many forms, and among them, the power of self is by far the strongest."
Fleur crossed his arms as he addressed the few in the room. right now, he did not look like a Dark Lord... All he wore now was a black silk shirt, and matching trousers. The only thing that tied him to nobility now, was his crown... and even then, they were just thorns.
He still exuded the same dominance and terror only the lord of darkness could, even without his massive stature and fearsome armor.
It was just now, he looked more like man, than god.
Even less... he looked more like the Prince he was supposed to be.
"You, my dear Claire... have something Miss Gynefieve does not. What that is, is the ability to surpass your greatest limitations, in unimaginable ways."
"The Hades Butterfly might reach a perfection someday... but once that happens... then what? Does she even have a choice? Does she care?"
Fleur looked to Nia simply, his blood red eyes penetrating into her lifeless corpse to something whose only existence was to be used. She had no will, other than this.
Fleur turned back to Claire, his eyes soft in their frame.
"You, my dear... and all knights under the internal Darkness... have the capability to achieve perfection as well... and then utterly surpass it. That is something only knight can do. Nia is a weapon. Weapons can become perfect, but they are nothing when they are not used.
This is what differentiates a knight, and a weapon, this is what makes soldiers much more valuable. A weapon is only as good as the person who wields it... and knights are only as worthy as they see fit. Do you understand, Lady Claire?"
Fleur stood amongst them, The Dark Lord.
He was not Dark Lord for no reason.
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 10:02 pm
Now that's a fancy speech! Aideen leaned against the wall in sort of plain view. She would have clapped if it were anybody else. Both their fighting styles are stupid, they depend on single aspects too much... Aideen sighed, well, they had some flair when you payed attention. She crossed her arms and thought about it a little while longer.
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 10:27 pm
She was grateful not to hear any snickers as she spoke. When Fleur then replied, the little, half-demon was then even more relieved to know that he was not disappointed in her, especially not in her self-doubt. Doubt can kill on the battle field. Then again, so can cockyness. She didn't even mind that her ignorance was based on her youth. She knew that would be the case on many accounts. This being one of them eased her nerves a great deal more as she listened carefully to what her Sire had to say to her. When she heard a shifting motion, she could not help but lift her head to see. He now had legs! He had left his thrown and was now walking on his own legs. The girl's eyes widened with a stroke of awe. She had never expected this. Now, she couldn't look away. She hoped she was not blushing...
The power of self is the strongest force there is? She thought about this for a second. That would mean that she would have to trust herself more and build her own self-confidence. By doing that, she needed tp train and perfect her skills, and improve in her lss-used ones, like head on fighting. For a moment she felt like she needed no boost from training as her Sire spoke of what she had that the doll did not. Could she really become more powerful that his toy? What he spoke made sense, after all, when one worked on their skills, they raised the bar for themselves, setting new limits that broke past the old. They could still wear down, yes, but they could still work on that and improve. "Yes, I do understand now, Sire. Thank you for explaining what I have been so ignorant to." She lowered her head again, tearing her gaze from his beautiful form.
"Sire?" She had another question, just to see if she got it right. "You mentioned will... does that also mean a knight is more valuable because he or she can choose loyalty, while a weapon is only loyal to the wielder?" She hoped she was right. After all, it, too, would make sense. The doll would only obey whomever held her key... Claire would not switch masters... ever. Then again, when taking others with the will to choose, many would pretend loyalty and be only loyal to themselves. She knew this, but she was still curious. Other than waiting for his next answer, Claire felt the presence of a dark knight that didn't belong. Her lips formed a thin line and the muscles in her back, despite weak, tensed up. Who dare to enter the throne room without paying their respects? The girl mentally hit herself. Of course, she had, too, watched Fleur from the shadows... but she had come out when told. This one was now in the open and still did not pay respects. What was that?
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Posted: Thu May 13, 2010 10:44 pm
((Nia is a whoooore~ ))
It was well-said and she agreed with a slight smile. Her very existence was one to serve... her usefulness was limited by he who used her. She was but a Servant. However, There was a missed point. There was almost no way to acquire an army of creatures like her. As of the history of Servants, she was the greatest and reached far above any others... so far, the only one in her league. That did not mean the Dollmaker did not try to create others like her. He did, and with zeal. However, it was not something that could just be CREATED. Just as queens cannot be made queens. Bases for exquisite wraiths must be BORN. She was born... then reborn and tempered. There was none other that could fight like her; none other that would last like her.
In all honesty, she did not like Claire. She wasn't sure what it was but perhaps, it was the weakhearted feeling of the woman... her insecurities... her fears... the way she fought, even. Nia did not have much respect for Claire until she voiced her feelings outloud. Even then, they were feelings that betrayed her wavering resolve... as they betrayed her feelings for their Lord. Such a person... could she even be called a true 'knight'? However Nia expected an improvement after Fleur's speech. Such words could even move the heart of a doll. Words would easily budge her will but her heart? What's left of her suppressed heart? Unknowingly, she flushed, mentally wincing at the words that he described her with... a tool... to be used... worthless without a Master, was she.
... and she accepted the wrenching in her chest with masochistic welcome. She wanted to be scolded by her Master. She wanted him to slander her... to belittle her... but treasure her in secret as an unprecidented weapon, to put her on display... to shame her and to toy with her... Lust gnawed at her bones simply from being treated like an object. Fire tingled her veins in preparation. Her skin burned. She longed to be used by him however he pleased... whether it be a toy of his bedroom or to send her out to slaughter an army by herself. If he were angry, she would be pleased to let him strike out at her and break her to pieces. To her, bloodlust was as good as fleshlust. Sexual arousal was the same as battlefield heat. She could care less how she was used as long as she could feel the inevitable pleasure of passionate sin. Such a glamorous exterior... and such a disgusting interior...
Nia hungered desperately for sin. Before was a Master who could pleasure her simply by willing her to feel. He bore her key.
The insides of her thighs felt moist.
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Posted: Fri May 14, 2010 11:24 pm
"...that can be true..."
Fleur said, slowly creeping over to Nia, answering Claire indirectly. As he approached, his feet made no sound... he was quieter than a phantom in the night... but his approach was not of hidden intention. Though his feet were like mist upon the floor, the Dark Lord made it known that he wanted to examine Nia up close... and personal.
He could practically feel it, Nia's deep and seductive desire welling up inside her.
In a way, it fascinated Fleur, this deep need... however fake it could truly be.
In another way, it repulsed him... he new she was ready to give her very body to him to feast upon, if he so willed it.
If he gave the key to anyone else, she would have the same sinful desires to the very same person.
In a way, it sickened Fleur, not even choosing these desires, for unholy love, for flesh and sweat and shame.
It sickened him more, her lack of freewill, her need to continue based on the bloody whim of her master.
She was exquisite.
Fleur circled around Nia as he bore his dried deep blood eyes into her, his hands behind his back.
Fleur re- addressed Claire, still placing his deep set eyes on no other but the doll.
"...a weapon is usually only loyal to the one who holds it... however, some weapons are made to be loyal eternally, to one hand..."
Fleur stopped behind Nia, running a finger down her spine from the base of her neck, slowly, ever so slowly, painfully slow... until he reached the small hole in back.
Fleur smiled, tracing the slot gently before retracting his hand back to it's original position, and continuing to circle the doll like a hungry buzzard.
"...do not misunderstand me though, my dear Claire..."
Fleur said running a hand once more carefully on the doll from their small distance, this time, his hand ran from her front right shoulder to her left making emphasis on her clavicle with his finger once again with the painfully slow demeanor before retracting his hand once more.
"...Weapons are invaluable things when handled correctly... some knights are nothing without a blade, others benefit undoubtedly from the enchantments placed upon them... a perfect weapon is extremely hard to come by... be it the blade Antioch, with it's immense deep rooted hands in the powers of eating light, or the fabled Scythe of Stonecoming, that could cut a mountain in half with one fell swing..."
Tyrannus Fleur stopped, looking directly into Nia's eyes... it was obvious what he was doing.
Fleur ever so loved provoking peoples emotions, using them as his plaything. With Nia's desire so forthcoming, Fleur couldn't help but to feed the flame...
...but that wasn't just it...
...Fleur's affectionate teasing wasn't just him playing with his doll... while Claire had tested Nia's skill, Fleur tested her resolve with every touch... be it the quick passing stroke of Fleur's hand on her right thigh, or the ever slow fingers running up from her lower back, Fleur's affection was dark curiosity...
...How strong was she, at holding her desire down her throat?
Fleur continued, never relenting his assault on Nia's senses... perhaps it would be torture to her... not being able to touch her master back... not being able to return Fleur's seductive gaze, or the faint smell of rose that wafted from his neck... not being able to enjoy his youth, his power...
If it were torture, Nia would have to bear it.
Fleur stopped in front of her once more, taking his right hand and placing his palm directly upon Nia's neck, using his fingers to raise it away from his gaze. Using his thumbnail, Fleur cut open a small gash in Nia's throat... just enough make her bleed.
His eyes fixed on the wound, as in only a few moments, it seemed as the small stream of blood reversed itself back into the doll and sealed... as if the cut had never been made.
Fleur smiled softly, lowering Nia's head once more, allowing it to rest in his palm, her chin stroked gently by the very thumb that cut her throat.
"...I do believe, Claire... that I might have found a weapon capable of far exceeding some of the deadliest weapons in the world."
Fleur smiled a sly smile as he broke his hold on the doll, turning and returning silently to the front of his throne, waiting to feel the repercussions of his actions upon Nia. Though he had touched nothing of the girl sexually, the way the Dark Lord manipulated her, he might as well have just molested her in front of everyone.
"It is true, she is the personification of death and deception..."
Fleur's eyes softened upon the crowd suddenly... becoming a bit cloudy in the redness.
"...but when it comes to Butterflies... I have witnessed far more beautiful."
Fleur's eyes drifted away for a moment... somewhere far in the past.
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Posted: Sat May 15, 2010 12:14 am
Her body would have relaxed from it's previous tension if it wasn't for the sudden flames she felt behind her. The doll was lusting... lusting after Claire's Sire. That would not do. Not at all. However, Claire felt no malice towards the decieving work of art. No, the girl would think any female mad not to at least glance his way a second time and perhaps... linger... Instead she felt an inner twitchy-ness, one of which showed she was definately not used to such exposure of.... burning. Claire couldn't help but be painfully aware of her Lord's piercing attention to the doll now, so to save some of her sanity she focused on his words, as they were still directed towards her. "They sound like true treasures, Sire, these weapons of eternal loyalty." Some must be truly devious... "I do hope no such weapon has fallen into hands that could not handle it. It would be a shame for a fool to wield something so precious..." It truly would. No one wanted a moron to hold a weapon of complete destruction.
One of her fangs gently bit into her lower lip. She was happy to not have eyes in the back of her head. He wasn't just torturing the doll, but Claire as well. And how he must have enjoyed that fact. After all, the half-demon was positive he knew what he was doing to her as well. A combination of shivers ran down her spine, some for her wants as her infaturation nestled inside of her, and others for resistance. She knew better, and much of it was because of the many things she did not know. She was barely a teen... still a child to the eyes of most. Despite the itch to feel his hand on her cheek again, she knew there were so many things in life she was still not ready for. So, she succeeded in suppressing her inner self, and her shivers never showed as her metal supressed those for her. So on she focused. His words being what unclouded her mind.
"I don't misunderstand, My Lord. I was just contemplating from different angles and with varies ideas. Now that I have learned something, I wish to understand it as fully as possible and from whatever direction it comes from." She had heard stories of the Scythe and the blade of Antioch. Such stories she had learned when she had become a knight, as her brothers would have never told her of such things. Such protective fools, were they. Soon, though, as it had felt like years of numbness and flame, he had finished his examination of the Butterfly from Hell. "It is a good thing, Sire, that a greater weapon than those of the past has come into your hands." I would be pained if it had gone to another. This is what you deserve, Sire. Her gaze lifted slowly as he returned to his throne. He has witnessed far more beautiful...? Then I really don't have a chance then. Oh well. A small, but content sigh left her lips. Her thoughts and aura were returning to her normal self. I am happy to be by his side. As long as I can remain this way, I will be content with life and pleased with myself.
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