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Pasion Pasiva

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Pasion Pasiva last won the day on January 25

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    The Black Queen

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  1. Tenebre followed behind the girl at a leisurely pace. He had nowhere to be and nowhere to go, and this was the most interesting thing that had happened since his farewell to Gabriela. At the very least, Sarah’s reluctance to give into her thirst and nature seemed sincere, and not like the oddly comical virtue-signaling that his way-ward daughter had set into popular motion with her strange antics. In many ways, Sarah’s reluctance was familiar, and similar to Gabriela’s, and that made it all make more sense as to why he had found his way onto this random little ship here upon this random little sea. “I...I don’t know you…get ut of my way… I have to…” “You’re father was a bit of a zealot,” the man went on to say, not much concerned with the way the young woman was carrying herself. She was a mess, tripping over her own feet, stumbling down onto her hands and knees, appearing a starving beast who hardly had any control over itself. It was all a bit dramatic, but he had to be sympathetic to some extent. She was pushing her body well beyond its capabilities, and while it was foolish for a plethora of reasons, in some minute way, he could find some aspect of it all admirable, even if it was minimal at best. “When people think of darkness -- especially your kind, they get swept up in the romanticism of it all. They equate one with evil or wrong-doing, and that’s how you end up with the black altars, the skull-bowls full of blood, the virgin sacrifices...Don’t get me wrong, I go where I am worshiped, and more often than not, play along with what I find. Devotion, after all, is devotion, and who am I to tell anyone that the way they wish to worship is right or wrong?” He seemed flippant now, slowly following her down into the hold as she all but tumbled down the ladder. He moved fluidly and elegantly, sweeping back the long, length of his black cloak, and managing to keep his fine boots out of the puddles of unsavory liquids that had gathered, while poor Sarah all but dragged herself through them. Meanwhile, voices had picked up as people became aware of the conversation, drawing near to the sight of the young woman who could hardly walk straight and the fine gentleman who followed behind her. “The point is, you make of things what you will -- including your hunger, your heritage, and the very blood running through your veins. You rebel against your nature, but can you even tell me why?”
  2. The creatures were inspired by some pictures that someone posted in valchat. I'll post them a bit later -- essentially they look like absolutely normal people except they have these massive heads, like -- massive -- and they just drop their jaws and take HUGE bites out of people. So not like, a zombie eating you alive. Like a giant just eating you like a banana. I would love it if they came into existence, in some way, due to Gabriela's angst. A manifestation of her growing desire to swallow the world into the void. I could write some lore for it if you feel it could be useful. I didn't think it would be anything that interesting or important beyond this one event. As for the timeline that I envision for all of this (although I do want to set this event into play as soon as possible) is as follows: *Feast of Blades (the party) -sub thread the match between Arthur and Cae (Gabs is just going to observe the fight before leaving without a word to Ilyana) -sub thread where Gabriela and Nines speak and Gabriela agrees to go to Hell's Gate. *Fiat Iustita (preparing to join) *The Birthday Celebration *Art of the Deal (currently underway)
  3. I wasn't sure if you were still game for this! If you are then yes, absolutely! As long as we can have the flesh-eating monsters come in and start taking bites out of people.
  4. I am looking for a venue -- a nightclub type setting, somewhere in Last Chance or possibly Hells Gate or Predator's Keep, or anywhere in between. I want to host an open event, but I don't want to create the setting, I'd rather use something that's already made and drive some activity in that direction. I'd also like it if I could cause a little trouble with some flesh-eating birthday-crashing monsters that might eat a few of the patrons and leave a few holes in the drywall. let me know!
  5. I look inside myself and see my heart is Black
    I see my red door, I must have it painted Black
    Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face facts
    It's not easy facin' up, when your whole world is Black

  6. “I don’t believe she can love anything--not truly.” Those eyes of hers studied her father’s face, regarding both the acceptance of the statement made in his voice and the doubt that flickered across his eyes. She had to wonder if he believed what he said, or if that was the sort of lie he had to tell himself in order to continue moving forward. Love was a great many things, Lucia had come to understand -- beautiful, warm, gentle, volatile, violent, and ugly. And in the same way that Gabriela would proclaim that all that Raphael felt for her did not, or rather could not ever amount to love, Raspberry now saw the same mistakes made by her father. And perhaps that was the curse that would separate them forever, the utter inability to see the capacity for love in the other. Little Raspberry was no champion for Gabriela, but in all the world, she knew that her mother had loved one person beyond any shadow of a doubt -- and he lay dead now, nothing more than a small, pitiful pile of bones. “I’ve been unfair to you, Lucia. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and I have let that weight--a weight I’ve chosen to bear--steal valuable time away from you.” His hold tightened, she was pressed closer and harder against her father. But she was a creature of sturdy stuff, the pressure did not discomfort her. However, concern spread across her innocent brow as he continued speaking, his voice deep and profound, and full of all sorts of things she loved to hear. She may have been receptive to the world beyond herself, but within the scope of her existence, Raspberry was a painfully simple creature -- a small, pathetic thing in dire need of affection, practically starving for it. “Oh, I have missed you terribly,” she replied to him in her soft and little voice. “In all this time, you have always stayed beside me. You have loved me, Lucia, even when I have not loved myself. When I have debased myself for your mother who, for all my efforts, will never see me as I see her or love me as I love her.” All his words were sweet, until her mother interjected herself into his heartfelt bleating. He had been doing so well, talking about how much she loved him, and how good she had been by staying beside him -- but as always, whether she was present or not, Gabriela managed to exist and to steal away her joy, and the taste of love right off her lips. The anger was nearly palpable as she reached out to catch his cheeks and hold his face in her hands. “She is a wicked woman, a sick, disturbed woman… you said it yourself, incapable of love, even for her own children. Even now, beloved father, you continue debasing yourself to her ghost. It fills me with rage.” Whether it was true or not, whether she agreed or not -- Raspberry would not defend Gabriela, and would not waste the opportunity to play on her father’s heartbreak to further his descent into hatred. The opposite of love, even his twisted and sadistic version of it, could never be indifference -- it simply had to be hate. She wanted Raphael to hate her, loath her, to seek her out and choke the life out of her so that she’d never again exist in the small realm that the child sought to rule over, her father’s heart. “In exchange for your unending love and support, I give you my word that there shall neer gain be secrets between us. And neer again will you need to wait for my company. Whenever you desire to see me, to be with me, you need only come find me… Now, I have a question for you, my little princess, and I would have you answer it honestly--not how you think it might appease me.” Raspberry was prepared to ask about his study and what the knights were so vigilantly guarding, but he did not give her the chance. Both curiosity and imagination captured, the child tilted her head and eased her grip upon her father’s face, choosing instead to stroke at his chin lovingly. “If I could find a way to change what you are, my love--make you into a true vampyre pureblood, flesh and bone, so that you might grow to become a beautiful young woman all your own, would you like that? You would finally have my eyes.” He was smiling, but she was not. In fact, her whole expression had fallen, like shattering glass cascading down in sheets of glittering blades. A moment longer, and her bottom lip was trembling as if she might cry. “But I would have her face! I would have her body… I was made in her image, I was created as her vessel, an image of her life -- a picture captured of a time most pleasing to Tenebre. I would grow up with her smile, with her frown, with her numb and unfeeling expression whenever in repose. No! No...I’d rather carve my face off every day at dusk than grow up seeing her face looking back at me in the mirror. Please, no father…”
  7. In a dark room, we fight Make up for, our love I've been thinking, thinking 'bout you 'Bout us And we're moving, slow Our hearts beat, so fast I've been dreaming, dreaming 'bout you 'Bout us ... Were speaking, soft See the pain in, your eyes I've been feelin', feelin' for you, my love And our bodies, are tied Our shadows, will dance I've been achin', achin' for you, my love ... My love is wasted, sorry for this, I never meant to be Hurting ourselves, hurting ourselves and I'm Complicated, you won't get me, I have trouble Understanding myself, understanding myself
  8. Even though the landscape stretches like a hard day, Even though the old man says I have a fool’s plan, Oh, despite the distance, you will see my footprints, I will raise my flagpole, I will turn these tables ‘round. I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home. Oh, carried on the breeze, you’ll never find me gone, Oh, faster than the post train, burning like a slow flame on, I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home. Though I’ve said the worse things, and I can’t reverse things, Secrets of the floor lay gambled in the doorway. Oh, I’ve made the mistakes and I have learnt the hard way, Even though you leave me crying like a banshee, ooh… I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home. Oh, carried on the breeze, you’ll never find me gone, Oh, faster than the post train, burning like a slow flame on, I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home. I’ll send a, send a, send a storm. Oh, carried on the breeze, you’ll never find me gone, Oh, faster than the post train, burning like a slow flame on, I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home. I’ll send a storm to capture your heart and bring you home. Oh, carried on the breeze, you’ll never find me gone.
  9. Could you find a way to let me down slowly? A little sympathy, I hope you can show me If you wanna go then I'll be so lonely If you're leaving baby let me down slowly Let me down, down Let me down, down Let me down, let me down Down, let me down, down Let me down If you wanna go then I'll be so lonely If you're leaving baby let me down slowly Cold skin, drag my feet on the tile As I'm walking down the corridor And I know we haven't talked in a while So I'm looking for an open door
  10. Pitiful creature of darkness What kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you You are not alone
  11. Gundam Wing introduced me to Yoai and Fanfiction. The amount of gay romance I read that centered between Heero and Duo had me questioning my sexuality in a really, really, really weird way when I was in Jr. High... And that's about all I remember!
  12. “A cup of lobster bisque, a boat of takoyaki, a plate of goma wakame, a serving of seafood paella, a strawberry tart…Oh, and could you chill my salad fork? I’m not one of those room temperature salad fork people.” “Yes. We would hate to disappoint the attendees, perhaps especially one of the Scarlet Council and his associates.” Xartia had masterfully ignored Isabella’s outburst, choosing to ignore the cruel snap of her sacrificial indignation, at whose altar he had been bound to burn. She was grateful, in a silent way that she would never reveal, but still found the edge of his entitlement rubbed her the wrong way. Was he flexing his title for their sake or for his own? He’d tagged along under the pretense of keeping her company, and for a brief moment, she had believed him sincere in his concern. That’s your first mistake, love -- thinking that any of these people care about anything other than angle they’re pushing. Gabriela cleared her throat as she settled into her seat. “Just rest here Isabella. Do you need us to get you anything?” She smiled, a near-perfect creation that could have rivaled the pristine facade of the Black Queen herself. “No, I am fine. Just a little queasy, but I am fine.” It was the weight of Cammy’s curious, and feline gaze that drew Gabriela’s amber eyes from Ilyana’s familiar face and onto the siren’s. Regardless of her new status as a human, and the loss of the inhuman glow of her eyes, there was a sharpness to her stare that cut through most once her attention was set upon them. The full force of Gabriela’s severe, and heartbroken stare settled on Cammy just as the creature drew near with a clean cloth, aiming it to her tear-wet cheeks. There was an urge to pull away. In her youth, after she ran away from her home, and as she grew up in the countryside of Eden, Cammy’s kind had never been looked upon with anything short of disdain by a majority of the population. Agree with it or not, Gabriela had grown up with those age-old prejudices. She shifted her gaze -- a narrowed look toward Ilyana as the soft cloth brushed her cheeks and cleaned away her tears. For a brief moment, and visible only in the way her hands(which still rested upon her stomach) suddenly clutched at her blouse, she feared for the revelation of black-blood stains, as her tears had been a hideous sight when she was a vampyre. But there was nothing to fear, in this human guise, even her heartache was acceptable, passive, and non-offensive. “Thank you,” she spoke softly, before reaching up and taking the napkin in order to finish the task of wiping away her agony. “So I was thinking… Since you two listened to my song, I think you two owe me a song later or a dance soon-ish. How about you, miss? Are you a fan of the performing arts?” “Once upon a time, I was a great and proud patron of the arts -- all forms, performing, music, literature, visual, even the decorative arts had a place of high esteem in my…” Gabriela caught herself short of admitting she had headed a court, a royal household, a nation. She smiled, private and small before licking her dry lips, “...in my family’s home.” “I have not sung or harmonized with anyone in ages Cammy. I will need to retain my voice for quite a while to give you anything close to the caliber of the performance you gave me.” Through damp lashes, she regarded the woman in black, and the smoothness with which she had rescued the moment, shifting the conversation back onto herself and deflecting it from Gabriela in her near slip-up. There was a look of admiration there, a look that might easily be confused for something more, especially by a jealous suitor, something far more profound than Gabriela was capable of feeling, or willing to feel ever again. “Seeing as to how our friend isn’t feeling well, she likely needs more rest. Isabella dear, did you find whom you were looking for? If not I’ll help you locate them assuming they’re here. Otherwise, allow me to make up for upsetting you. I assure you I have the resources to provide you with just about anything you feel you need.” “That sounds like a loaded statement, dear Xartia -- you have the resources to provide me with just about anything I feel I need, but what if it isn’t a feeling? What if I know, beyond any doubt, and am certain of what I need? Who is to judge the difference between what I know I need and what someone else might think that I only think I need?” She bit her bottom lip. The inside of her mouth felt like a desert. Again she licked her lips, but it didn’t help. “No. I wasn’t able to find my friend.” She swallowed the lump of disappointment that had gathered in her throat and lifted her head with pride. This wasn’t the first time that Xartia had offered to help fulfill whatever it was her heart might desire, and her opportunities to actually gain access to what she needed were growing slim. “A fortune. I need access to a fortune, near limitless funds to fulfill a very important project. But perhaps, more important than that, I need good, trustworthy friends -- can you give me that, Xartia? What do you hide behind that Cheshire grin of yours? Loyalty? Devotion? Love… You’ve been so kind to me,” she paused, dropping her gaze to her hands, which had at long last fallen onto her lap. She had to look at Ilyana, she had to include her in this. “I do not know what I’ve done to deserve such kindness, and from strangers no less.” She had dampened the mood, she could tell. She had made them uncomfortable. “So what do you all believe should be our next step after we rest here?” “I don’t know what comes next,” Gabriela replied, before standing and motioning for a man who just so happened to walk by, carrying a loaded tray of goblets with some sort of sparkling wine. She took two of the chalices, but did not offer one to her supposed friends. Instead, she drank one in its entirety, right there and then, fighting against the burn of the bubbles that seared down her throat. It took her at least six steady and long gulps to swallow the whole contents of the glass, but when she had finished she set the empty vessel down. “But right now, right here, with you,” she lifted her cup to Cammy, “with my new friends -- I want to sing, and I want to dance, I want to drink.” Halfway done with her second glass of wine, Gabriela swayed a bit where she was standing. “Siento que te conozco hace tiempo, de otro milenio, de otro cielo… Dime, si me recuerads aun? Solo con tocar tus manos, puedo revelarte mi alma… Dime, si reconoces mi voz? Ye, yeh, yeh, eh… Siento que me desnudas la mente, cuando me besas en la frente… Dime, si triago marcas de ayer? Solo con tocar tus manos puedo revelarte mi alma... Dime si reconoces mi voz? Ye, yeh, yeh, eh… Siento que te conozco, y siento que me recuerdas… Dime si reconoces mi voz? Ye, yeh, yeh, eh… Siento que te conozco, siento que me recuerdas… Dime si reconoces mi voz?” “I feel that I have known you for a long time, from another millennium, from another heaven… Tell me, if you still remember me? Just by touching your hands, I can reveal my soul ... Tell me, if you recognize my voice? Ye, yeh, yeh, uh ... I feel you bare my mind, when you kiss me on the forehead ... Tell me, if I bring (bare marks upon myself) marks from yesterday? Only by touching your hands can I reveal my soul ... Tell me if you recognize my voice? Ye, yeh, yeh, uh ... I feel that I know you, and I feel that you remember me ... Tell me if you recognize my voice? Ye, yeh, yeh, uh ... I feel that I know you, I feel that you remember me ... Tell me if you recognize my voice? ” Of course Gabriela’s voice was lovely, and she could carry the solemn melody of her song -- but she wasn’t a trained artist like Cammy. However, there was liquid courage running through her veins, burning a path through which her turmoil could escape. So she sang, and she did so with breaks in her voice as if she might have turned into sobs, but managed to cut through it, saving it with a sweet continuation of the lyrics, or a deep drink from her wine glass. Regardless, by the time she was done, she felt the world was softer, and her vision somewhat blurred, as if she were looking through a light mist. "So this is what it is to be inebriated? I adore it. More wine! More..."
  13. ...come back here, no don't go
  14. She enjoyed Pallas. She couldn’t quite decipher the reason why -- he was inconsequential if he could not be made to lend her aid, and even their short history together seemed to provide nothing but flimsy possibilities -- and yet, she found pleasure in watching him move and listening to him talk. It was the sound of his voice, masculine, deep, but measured and careful, with a hint of boyishness. It made her want to smile, it almost stirred that ancient feeling in the pit of her stomach, that sense of simple enjoyment, but even that feeling was nothing more than a memory now, and hardly the sort of thing that could produce any real sensation in her. Joy, like a man with a missing arm, was a phantom limb to Gabriela. “No cream or sugar, same as before?” “Actually, in my humanity, I have come to discover I have quite the sweet tooth.” Pallas was settled, and she did not mean to disturb him again. She added two cubes of sugar to her coffee and a generous splash of cream. As a vampyre, the smell of coffee had been heavenly, but as a human, the taste was not entirely as pleasant. Sugar and cream made the entire affaire bearable. Careful of the heat, she took a sip of coffee and let the liquid warm her as it settled in her stomach, searing on its path down her throat. “I don’t normally concern myself with matters outside of Taen. Much less news from half a world away. No offense meant. This land is quiet… Isolated from the rest of the world. This is the first I’ve heard of it.” She took another sip of coffee and kept her eyes set on the pleasantly colored liquid within. “But I’m sorry to hear that. Though I think I’m correct to assume you made that choice to step down, and it wasn’t forced on you?” Honey colored eyes, sweet and warm as her expression was severe and serious, regarded his one. Behind her neatly set teeth, for she found herself keenly aware of the fact that she should not clench her jaw, there was a tempest of words rising and falling upon her tongue. Things she wanted to say. Things that maybe she should say -- like a fair warning regarding the insatiable hunger of the Carmine Empire, and the man who headed the Dominion. But she kept quiet, and decided to listen rather than speak. “I’d imagine it was a difficult choice to make. I won’t congratulate you, but...perhaps a toast for a better future is in order?” “Yes,” she replied, a smile on her lips. She felt cold and dead inside, as if numbness was spreading from her heart and outward, stilling everything. Something about all of this felt like death. Toasting to a better future, when all that she had wanted, all that she had hoped for, and the lives of her children had been choices that had been ripped from her clutching hands. But she smiled, and positioned her coffee mug. “To a better future. A better future for me, and a better future for all -- I hope to be of more use on a global platform rather than isolating myself to the affairs of my small country, especially now that Orisia has joined the Carmine Empire. Do humans usually toast with coffee? I imagine it’s too early for champagne.” She would drink champagne. She would drink bottles of it right about now. The conversation carried on in a strange sort of way, moving at the peace that dreams often do -- slow when you’re in them, quickly when you realize you’ve only just been dreaming. He spoke of his responsibilities, and there was a distance in his gaze as he ventured an almost longing look beyond a window, and then he was with her again. She wondered, with a dull throb in her chest, how many times she had worn that dreamy expression when talking about or thinking about Orisia. “You still haven’t answered my question. You’ve come to request something, then?” “Yes,” she said with a nod, setting her coffee down and gathering her hands on her lap. “As I am sure you know, or could guess to know, walking away from the responsibilities of a country is not easy. In fact, it’s nearly impossible. I didn’t walk away so much as I… I simply disappeared, thus my change. What better way to hide my identity but to change it completely. Therefore, I am not surprised you haven’t heard about my stepping down. I don’t suppose that is something the Carmine Empire will want to reveal, at least not until they can put a proper spin on it.” She shrugged and it was a small thing, careless almost. How much could she say without giving away the utter heartache of her fate? She needed to make her presence here believable, and that meant sticking to the truth for as long as the path allowed. “As for me -- there were certain projects I was working on, things that remain upon my mind even now that I attempt to find out who I am with this new identity and where I will fit in the world. I was somewhat involved in the production and distribution of aid to Yh’mi, a task I took upon myself, in no small part, thanks to your father.” Gabriela smiled then, a genuine smile, a small and somewhat sad smile. “I never spoke two words to the man, and he managed to pull me out of myself and made me see the good that I was capable of doing as the Queen of Orisia, beyond the Orisian shores. It is something that I wish to continue to do, but now I lack many of the resources. I have come to ask for your support, and that of the Veluriyam Empire, both financially and militistic, in the completion of my mission to deliver and oversee support to Inns’th, and of course, Yh’mi as a whole. I go by a new name now, Isabella Morcia Marquez, and while I still hold some sway over the shipments of produce that are being delivered from Orisia to Inns’th, I lack the personal resources to create the proper persona to direct these dealings. I had assets here in Terrenus,” Gabriela frowned, looking away as a bit of color painted her cheeks, “--accounts, but everything was frozen or lost due to my being a forgein monarch and the connections I had with both Raphael Bartolome and Roen. Essentially, I cannot count on anything from my past life.”
  15. “Your mother is off visiting...I don’t know where she is, my love.” She held the man that she called father in the small circle of her arms, with her nose pointed up to better gauge his expression. Those eyes of hers, far too large for her small face, made her all the more endearing. But it was the color of them, which often caused fear in others that set her apart in ways no other feature ever could. They were not a solid color, a marbleized orb of pooled blood. Instead, they were like raw gems pulled from the earth, uncut but pristine in their color and clarity. Those eyes that stared at him now, drinking in the subtle pain written across his face, they were perfect ruby stones held up to the sun, capturing and reflecting the light inward, deeper and deeper into the bottomless chasm that was both her hunger and her need to love and be loved. He sighed, and she felt the breath of him against her own chest. It was a heavy thing, the rise and fall of his core, and it made her brows pinch and her small, pursed mouth tremble as if she might cry -- but she didn’t. This was not her sorrow, and it would do away with the weight of his own if she made it about herself. For him, for her beloved father and the man she was beginning to love more and more, she had to be strong. “Your mother is gone and I don’t suspect she will ever return. She wanted to leave, to truly be free of us and all that we represent, and Tenebre has given her that. She is beyond my reach now--beyond all of us. If she ever comes back, it will be of her own accord and no one else’s.” “No one is beyond your reach, Father. You are the Emperor of the Carmine Dominion, your reach is as far and wide as you will it to be. If she is gone, truly gone, it is by your will.” He adjusted her and she clutched at his shoulders feeling the way his arms tightened around her small form. He held her not as a father would a daughter, but as one needing comfort did of a thing that could provide such comfort. She intended to be that for him, and so she relaxed and pressed into him, with one small hand reaching up to stroke his bearded cheek. Her tiny hand, it barely covered the length of his wide jaw as she stroked him back and forth. “...To tell you the truth, I am not sure anything will ever be enough to give her what she seeks. Her father was like that, and I fear she’s inherited more of his troubles than her mother’s. Perpetual melancholy may simply be her lot in life, and she will forever look for its cure. There is no medicine for that sickness, and with time, it will rot her from the inside out.” “Or maybe she will find the cure in her loneliness. Maybe she was always meant to be alone… We were there when you were not, I saw her when she lived alone in Eden, nothing but a shadow that existed from one night to the other. She was never happy, but she was content -- a being of utter inconsequence.” The girl became still and quiet then. She looked away from her father. “I will miss her. She never loved me, but back then, back when it was just the four of us -- she looked after us, me, Dollya, and Lucis. She couldn’t love us. She can’t love anything. But she took care of us.” Silence settled between them, even as rain clouds began to gather above their head. He looked to the sky, and she followed his example. “Tenebre does nothing for the sake of kindness. If he helped her, it was for a price…”
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