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Pasion Pasiva

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Pasion Pasiva last won the day on August 25 2018

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About Pasion Pasiva

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    The Black Queen

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  1. Pasion Pasiva

    [Chat] How was your day?

    Went rainbow hunting with my boys today. Mostly, we just ran in the rain and they jumped in puddles.
  2. Pasion Pasiva

    The Reverie Ball (Open Hub)

    Perhaps the devil found it inconceivable to care for the opinions of those who observed them -- of the whole of the world that turned, more of then than not, disapproving glares in their directions -- but that was a foolish notion. Regardless of Roen’s station within the hierarchy of hell, both he and Gabriela, resided in this particular world, and it simply made no sense to pretend like they did not somehow employ some semblance of importance within it, especially not when they went to such great lengths to attain and maintain power. The devil may not have concerned himself with the maintenance of appearances, but it would cost him dearly in the long run and that was simply not a price that she was willing to split with him. She was mortal royalty, with a mortal coil, and a mortal’s life and soul, her existence did not yet expand beyond this world, regardless of what anyone believed or wished. She did not belong to celestial or infernal nobility, and so she did not make light of these things. And although he smiled, she could all but draw out the patronizing lines that formed around his slender lips as they curved. He thought so very little of her and all of her compassion and empathy. “Your Grace -- My sincerest condolences for your loss, my Lady. If you ever require anything, you may always call on us.” The price would be too steep, she thought to herself while her golden eyes -- those liquid pools of molten gold and copper caught the outside light from the ballroom, and appeared to glitter like flakes of warmed metal at the bottom of a sparking stream. They settled on Abigail and watched her intently, though her features continued to project that same serene sorrow. “You are most kind, though it is I who should be extending my condolences. I cannot imagine what it must be like to suffer the loss of an entire city, much less an island, and have thousands of innocents slaughtered in the process--” “Millions.” She could feel Roen’s eyes on her, heavy and judgmental. Gabriela had interrupted the Duchess, and without so much as a word of apology. And the magnificent mourning that she wore upon her face, like most other women might wear jewels, slipped away for a brief moment to reveal the terrible and ugly reality that lay beneath the surface. Her face was utter perfection, it was stone like, it was devoid of anything resembling pain -- it was numb. “Millions of innocents -- not thousands.” It had been a correction that she had been making for weeks now, but it may as well have felt like years if not decades. The catastrophe that brought two worlds crashing together had ended the lives of millions of people, and not all of them Orisians. The sheer volume of death, it was the only thing in all of this life, or her previous incarnations that had brought her so close to breaking. There was a painful numbness when she recounted this, but it was getting easier and easier to do. Millions of people had died -- hundreds of thousands of children. Was Abigail filled with the same disapproval as Roen? Gabriela remembered to blink and once more saw the world as it presented itself before her -- there was the Duchess, still framed by the door, and there was a great party beyond her, with lively music, chatter, and all manners of delights for the senses. “We are proud of what Squire Eckhart and his men did for it is a noble thing to die fighting the forces of chaos. Still, they could only do so much. I wish we could have done more to help.” Gabriela decompressed via a smile -- a small, genuine smile. She closed her hands before her, gathering them and linking fingers just below where her navel. A great release of pressure came through that gesture, which eased the sudden throbbing that had started crawling up the back of her head. She loathed talking about what happened to Cayana. “He gave people with absolutely no chance of survival -- a chance. There are simply not enough good things to say about such a man.” There was a moment of silence, during which she reflected upon the dead. There were still hundreds of thousands unaccounted for, entire families that had been totally erased from existence, along with any proof of their existence. It was not only an emotional torture, but a logistical headache, to try and put the dead to rest when more often than not the authorities only had small bits and pieces of flesh and bone to go by. She thought of this now, as the ambitious Abigail prepared to talk shop. “But, perhaps there are still ways we can work together. I understand both Orisia and Patia have commitments in the Yh’mi effort? Perhaps an arrangement can be reached to assist one-another in the transportation logistics…” Gabriela looked away. Her eyes dropped to the floor, and swept across to find Roen, who had followed close behind and was now standing near by. She looked toward his face, and tried to study the intent behind his crimson eyes. It was impossible. He was older than she was, and perhaps better at this poker game than either of them. Whatever he was thinking or feeling, he kept it to himself. And she, by looking away, denoted not a lack of interest, but perhaps a clear indication that she did not have a say in such matters, but rather that Abigail would have to negotiate with Roen. Since the time that trading agreements had been established between Orisia and the Karradeen House, Roen had taken on stewardship of Orisia, and Gabriela did not know what that meant for any of the deals she made previous to losing her power. But there was one curious thing about this all -- how quickly Abigail had jumped into business, given even what she had just seen. Perhaps the young woman decided that she simply did not understand the dealings between vampyres, devils, and other such monsters, which would seem like a fair enough realization. But Gabriela could not share the feeling of disapproval that she felt, which was perhaps more so uncomfortable because it was coming from such a young human being. Then again, humans lives were so preciously short -- they did everything faster, and they seemed to live so much harder for it. “That sounds promising,” she said, more so to Roen than to Abigail. “I feel that we have been a great strain upon you, my Lord -- this may be a way to reduce Orisia’s heavy reliance on your kindness for nearly all of it’s transportation needs. Perhaps it is something you would like to discuss with the Duchess in private? I am happy to go and find the Emperor.”
  3. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    Yeah, it was the perfect storm... We were planning our move, but wanted a week off to spend time with family. But then the weather got really bad and he got sick, and yup...all we did was sit watching TV. It's amazing how quickly it took hold. He whines for it! He even dreams about it. He's woken up, 3 am, asking for cartoons.
  4. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    TV is actually very new territory for us. We were doing very little screen time up until about a month ago. But because of our impending cross-country move I cancelled our ABA therapy, which took up a huge chunk of our day. I wanted him to have a nice break, but that nice break ended up turning into a ton of cartoon time due to nasty weather and having so many of our toys packed. Believe me, I've tried a lot of inside activities but we are just so use to being outside. Now, I feel like my kiddo is totally addicted. He's got four settings -- Eat, Play, Outside, CARTOONS! I can't wait until we have our own house. It will be a lot a lot easier to control screen time.
  5. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    Same boat... We just started watching paw patrol... I want to kill myself and pepper pig.
  6. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    I just need my kids to love Toy Story as much as I do. Or else I'll have to disown them, unfortunatly...
  7. Pasion Pasiva

    Have a Joyous Reverie!

    You get the hell out of here, Carlos!
  8. Pasion Pasiva

    Have a Joyous Reverie!

    ...i would still like to read those six paragraphs.
  9. Pasion Pasiva

    The Reverie Ball (Open Hub)

    It was exactly because she knew of his capabilities to perform as the gentleman sage that she found his current role so utterly repulsive. But even at his best, while wearing the guise of a proper gentlemen and finding himself to be a magnificent actor, Roen had never been as talented as he believed. There simply was no material strong enough to fashion the rough edges of his exterior into the sparkling angles of a polished diamond. At his very core, the devil was violence incarnate. Perhaps his magic could cast a veil over the eyes of mortal men and women, but not her or the rest of her kind. He was a monster through and through, but he cast a far more dangerous shadow when adorned with a blade and dressed so elegantly. When he came after her she cowered. Everything was still fresh -- from the attempt against her life, which had nearly cost her the life of her then unborn child to the humiliating kidnapping that saw her stolen away from her very own seat of power. Her courage was a fragile thing, and even the flames of anger were not enough meld the broken pieces of her valor. She backed away, but he kept coming after her. All she managed was a small sound, a fleeting little cry before he had her shoved and pinned by her neck against a bookcase. The pretty sounds of the party and the lovely smells all fell away into a distant background. All that existed was the dark, angry, but beautiful face that stared down into hers -- blood-colored eyes narrowed but swimming in macabre amusement and the devastating sound of footsteps entering and stopping short within the library entrance. There was a witness to this atrocity, and Gabriela felt the shame of it twist hundreds of knots in her stomach that clenched and ached as she resisted the urge to reach up and try to free herself from Roen’s squeezing hand. “Then there will be much bloodshed, my love.” "No more, please..." Hiding behind a curtain of dark hair that fell across her face, Gabriela closed her golden eyes and refused to meet the crimson glare. Surrender, it was the best tactic to have this ugly and embarrassing moment pass as quickly as possible. She utilized it to the best of her abilities by keeping her hands by her sides, but lifting her fingertips and revealing her pale palms, a plea of submission for the sake of curious onlookers. He let go of her, but she couldn’t be certain if she had anything to do with it or if it was because he was satisfied with his display. He was fidgeting with his ring, lazily turning the gaudy piece of jewelry round and round on his finger. “An armed society is a polite society, Gabriela.” “If you say so, my lord.” She didn’t immediately turn to look up. She needed a moment, just a brief respite of solitude behind her hair, hidden by the thick, waves of nearly black hair that fell over her bare shoulder. The bruises he left on her throat, they had to heal -- but she needed a minute or two. His blood was still rich and potent in her veins, a gift he had seen fit to give her on their way here, a gift that afforded him certain liberties. Her flesh was the perfect canvas for his violent outbursts. The dark marks were already mostly gone, growing dimmer and dimmer by the moment as he busied himself with speaking, and she with pretending they didn’t have an audience. “...The last time I mingled unarmed, I nearly killed Corvinis’s kin with my bare hands for the insults he paid you and I. In a similar vein, I went to Kadia unarmed, looking for answers about the man who nearly killed you.” It was the first she heard of this, of his attempt to find her would be assassin. A flicker of a frow played across her face as a tragic memory played across her mind. Shot through the thigh, blood pouring out of her at a rate that would not end her life but would certainly end the fragile life of the unborn child growing inside of her -- tears, so many tears, as she fell to the ground and kissed the moss. She prayed. She cried. She called to him, but he didn’t answer. It was the sort of thing she didn’t want to think about. He was smiling at her while he spoke of his sword, and she reached up to rub her sore neck as casually as she could manage now that she felt enough time had transpired. She was a small thing, a petite woman that could trick nearly any mortal man into believing her a helpless damsel. It was a good disguise in a world where she was meant to be a predator, but she was damned here on Valucre where Bloodgods and Devils walked the earth. Her small stature only added to her woeful inability to stand up to any of them. At three hundred years old, she was but a child to many of the creatures that walked in and out of her life. “In this way, I am helping you, beloved. I’m sure you’ll make them all love me as much as you do.” He laughed, and she forced herself to do so as well -- to chuckle quietly and behind a small hand in a ladylike manner. They laughed like fools about the tragedy of their love, or whatever bastardization of the emotion they now shared. “Should we mingle, or do you want to stay here, and read me poetry?” “We really must see to the Emperor,” she replied, her spirit subdued, her voice much softer -- her eyes downcast. “I don’t know how often you’ll find yourself on this side of Terrenus, but if he was kind enough to invite you, then you should be kind enough to show him your gratitude in person.” Then, as if remembering something, she dug through a deep pocket in her magnificently full skirt -- a very handy addition to her lovely gown. She produced a small black box which had been fitted tightly with velvet, and then opened it to show Roen what lay inside. Within a golden pillbox sat, no bigger than the size of an Orisian Crown. The tiny hinges that kept the lid shut and the snap that kept it locked were a delight to see, but it was the delicately painted picture of Orisian Blood Orchids on the porcelain lid that was the true centerpiece. There was no point going into detail about how the item belonged to her personally, or how attached she was to it. It would serve her Lord and Master well in his endeavors to gain favor among foreign leaders. “It’s a priceless antique, a beloved trinket I found in the castle when I took it over -- it’s the best I could do on such short notice, but an adequate and thoughtful gift to present to the Emperor.” She didn’t wait for Roen’s reaction, she had reached out for his hand in a familiar way both to denote their closeness, as well as to hopefully disarm whatever mounting discomfort the person spying them was feeling. The small box was deposited within the devil’s hand. “She saw everything,” Gabriela said, her lips barely moving and her voice a soft whisper that only Roen would hear. “The damage we have done here, I cannot begin to guess it -- but you will help me repair it.” And then she was gone, leaving the devil to examine the trinket she had left behind and turning more fully to the woman who had seen fit to walk into a private moment and remain as a silent witness to the unfolding of a small, insignificant lover’s quarrel. There was a smile on her face, her defeated features brightening as she pulled her own mask over her face -- sweet, friendly, beautiful. The pale, unearthly creature moved toward Abigail. “Duchess Karradeen, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I must apologize, before anything more is said, for not following up any of our agreements with a more personalized touch. I had every intention to writing to you, but with the current transfer of Orisian transplants to Yh’mi it simply slipped my mind.” Gabriela turned, she swept a hand behind her and motioned with curling fingers and an elegant gesture for the devil to follow. “Roen, darling, come and meet the Duchess of Karradeen, her man Eckhart gave up his life, along with many of his crew men, to help evacuate Ceyana during the tragic events that devastated the island. I cannot properly express the enormous gratitude the Orisian’s feel for what your men and women did on that day…” Gabriela paused, she stopped at a respectful distance and was happy to drop the happy facade. Speaking of the tragedy in Ceyana allowed the subtle sadness to settle once more across her face. “Truly, I am so sorry for the losses you suffered on that day.”
  10. Just a little update for anyone who might be concerned or interested. I will not be starting any new threads or plots until all my current endeavors are resolved. I have three different timelines going and I really want to get back to a simpler and more reasonable, linear story. I also plan on updating the Orisian Timeline, so keep an eye out for that! 

    1. Grizzly


      If ours is difficult to keep in with the timelines we can always summarize the events and move further down the line. (That's assuming you don't want to see how the situation plays out.)

  11. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    ...one of my kids favorite toys is a Woody doll, and yet he's never seen the movie. I am so lagging on introducing movies to my babies. There is no time! No time!
  12. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    Look... I dont know how to lift with my legs and keep my back straight. I literally cannot do it. I've tried. My back always curves. I just dont get it. But I always pick stuff up that way! Why was this time so different...why did it hurt so much! I felt like my lower half was being severed from my top half for all of half a second, but it was pure agony.
  13. Pasion Pasiva

    General chat thread

    I was picking up toys and during my awful form squat and lifts I swear it felt like someone stabbed a knife between two vertebrates in my lower spine, right above my hips. I managed a single high pitched squeal of sheer agony before it was gone, just like that... What the bloody hell just happened?!
  14. Pasion Pasiva

    Blood on the Crown [Ild Pass]

    Gabriela stood on the precipice of something that was not wholly unknown, but did for the most part feel unfamiliar. It was a relief that Raylon had untangled himself from her and moved away, leaving her in longing of the gentle warmth he had pressed into her open palm. It seemed that every male creature in her life commanded a power over heat that stood in direct parallel to her intimate existence with the cold, but his was the first to come about softly and full of tenderness. And now that he moved to stand by the door of her private cabin, waiting on her to be ready to exit and to make known to the world the plan that they had concocted together, she felt lonesome for the simple comfort of his touch. When was the last time anyone had touched her like that? Without any sort of expectation, without the violent grappling of possession or the threat of domination. It was a constant struggle with everyone else, with anyone else -- touch. Yes, something as simple as touch, felt like a minor, but monumentally important, aspect of the power politics that took place on the battlefield that her body had become. It was with shock and no small serving of embarrassment that Gabriela realized she did not remember ever being handled so delicately. And now, as the tender mortal warmth of Raylon’s caress and his strange magic, which somehow cut through the core of La’Ruta to reach at her flesh and blood, began to fade away, she was left alone to weigh the merits of this decision. Much and more would be said about her ability to rule from this day forth. How she handled herself, how she handled her people, how she handled Raylon and his -- while some cried for war and others for peace, and hers was the only voice that mattered -- all of it would be remembered. But she was alone, abandoned by friends and foes, and these decisions were her own and she had to be at peace with them, willing and able to live with them for the rest of her life. With tragedy so freshly suffered, and pools of blood still soaking the earth -- both Orisian and Illyrian -- now, more than ever, was the time for peace. She stalked forward, stretching the fingers upon her newly healed hand, and plucked from the back of her desk chair a heavy coat. It was unnecessary protection from the elements, but with its dense and dark material, its straight lines and wide, polished metal buttons, it gave her an air of military authority she hoped she could pretend to possess. Adjusting the garment around her petite figure and ensuring an elegant fit, she turned and joined the Good King Raylong. “Let’s be on our way then, we have no time to waste.” Beyond the closed doors, where Marcellus waited, and had been hearing, she saw his disapproving face. It didn’t matter -- her mind was made up, as she imagined, was his. “Have my will be done, these waters are to remain still and calm until my return. Orisia will not play antagonizer to our new neighbors, less suitably provoked. I expect your most trusted men in charge of making that decision, Marcellus -- what constitutes suitable provocation. Do I make myself clear?”
  15. Pasion Pasiva

    The Reverie Ball (Open Hub)

    Having made herself at home, and with every intention of camping out in the library for the remainder of the ball, Gabriela had pulled a small collection of books into an awaiting arm. So far, cradled lovingly to her chest, was Before Us: The Tales of Those Who Built Terrenus, A History of the Last True Temple to Gaia, and Songs of the Phoenix: A Book of Poems. But a fourth book had captured her interest, and had all but ensnared her. She had stopped right there where she wandered, and flipped open through the dusty pages with the dexterous fingers of her unburdened hand. The book’s cover read Abyss of Kings, and within was a detailed chronological history of the monarchs of Terrenus who had fallen, surrendered, or been seduced into wickedness. She half expected to find the devil’s name there but wondered if the book was perhaps too old and in need of a new edition, or if somehow, Roen simply did not constitute what the Terrenian government would consider a true monarch of the land. There were so many questions that she had never bothered to ask, and that it truth, she had never even been curious about. For example -- what manner of king was the devil? Was he true royalty, was he conqueror...did it matter when you were a being of infernal breeding? But he wasn’t. Not really. Or was he? She knew his secret, and as more people saw and met their small son, so too would the rest of the world -- and what would happen then. She had paused her reading to wonder, but had never taken her eyes off of the written letters -- the appearance that she was deeply invested in her reading was held up with every intention to dissuade anyone from pursuing conversation with her. And yet she felt the weight of his presence before she heard his voice, and for the first time in a long time, she did not immediately recognize him. It wasn’t often that he had the opportunity to catch her so off guard -- lost in her thoughts, even among a crowd, with her brows pinched in that way that denoted a troubled mind while the rest of her body leaned so easily to one side draped so elegantly in her fine clothes. The devil might have a passing thought then, just a brief moment of appreciation -- Gabriela belonged in a place like this. She was a quiet, isolated pool of water in the middle of a great current of activity. Here with the books and the silence, Gabriela was framed by the distant sound of music and chatter, and it suited her. “I wonder what’s going on outside.” Her book snapped shut and she sucked in a breath between her teeth -- nearly an inverted hiss. Golden eyes focused intently on the devil, her Lord and Master, and glared. There was a look the devil had not seen in quite some time. She was angry, she was surprised, but more importantly, she was genuinely afraid -- or rather, startled. His dying smile only made her that much more upset. He seemed pleased with himself for pulling such a rotten stunt. “These sort of soirées usually end badly. One day soon, I think no one will ever bother to come.” “If that’s the case, then I can expect your tragic lack of attendance to our son’s christening?” It was a mean things to say and a bad way to reveal that she was, at the very least, back to thinking about throwing an event for Orisia. She didn’t want to imagine how it might look if she revealed herself to have been thinking about this too much in advance, at least not without his prior consent, but at the very least Roen might be pleased to see a spark of his old beloved still burning in the slowly dying embers of what was left of her. She wanted to throw a party, what harm could there be in that? The thought made her immediately grow dim and quiet. Orisia’s had once carried a proud and wonderful reputation for events -- none could rival the celebrations that the Summer Isles hosted, but those days were gone. Anything and everything that the Black Queen touched ended in turmoil and violence, including her last great accomplishment, which was being kidnapped from her own coronation. That had been the last straw for all of them -- for Malice, for Raphael, for Roen, for every last friend and foe. She wasn’t fit to rule, not Orisia, not her own home, not even herself. She withered under the callousness of her own memories and critical mind. Roen, in this short time, had drawn closer and was now standing nearly toe to toe with her. With her gaze cast downward, she noted the intricate pommel of Hamburger, and the devil’s possessive clutch around it. It was a sight she had not seen in ages. With a frown she glanced up into his face, just as he stole away her book on fallen kings and captured her fingers for a kiss upon her knuckles. “Why are we here, Gabriela?” “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, quietly. The question once more came to mind -- what kind of a king was Roen? She studied him as he turned his head away, as his beautiful but monstrous features took to searching beyond the open doors and windows that lead into the library at the happy and cheerful people beyond. “I see you’re here, alone. Has somebody offended you? Do you want me to hurt someone for you.” Her lips fell open just about the width of a hair. It was surprise that fueled the gesture, and it was an urge to command herself that caused her to immediately clench her jaw. The sheer ridiculousness of the question felt like a slap to the face -- was he kidding or was he serious? Her eyes dove down to the narrow space that separates them and once again she saw his fingers upon the pommel of his weapon. No, this was no joke. “Are you drunk?” she asked, this time she hissed. Her newly freed hand was on his, pulling it off of his weapon. “No -- I have not been offended. I am here because I chose to be. I’ve never come to one of these things as a simple guest.” If looks could kill. She was glaring at him with golden edge daggers. “We were invited, Roen. You said you didn’t want to come, so I came. You told me this was my job -- to make them love you. Well it's going to take work, a lot of work, Roen, it’s going to take a hell of a lot of work to make anyone love you. And you know,” she was flustered now, she had to back away, talking about love to Roen always made her a little anxious, a little warm cheeked, she needed space -- so she stepped back, escaped from the warmth of his proximity, “--this is how it starts, this is how you work on it. You go to these types of things. You show up when you’re invited, and then you get invited to more things, and then you go to even more stuff. And you're gracious, and you're polite, and you mingle and chat even though it is tedious and annoying!” There were a few tables littering the room, tasteful pieces of furniture with chairs and lamps, places to set books down and read. This is where she left her books before turning back to the devil, before pointing a finger at him, “But you most certainly don’t just appear out of nowhere, totally unannounced in another man's home, wearing a massive sword and fingering the pommel like you’re ready to draw at the drop of the first rude word thrown in your direction, because...unfortunately, there are likely to be, many rude words thrown in your direction.” Slowly, Gabriela deflated, her one bare shoulder dropped and sank completely until it fell soft and round and curved inward as her arms crossed under her breasts. “You have to help me help you.”