One Hell of an Offer – Hell’s Kitchen : SS

The Prince of Gluttony is given an offer that is very hard to refuse.

Scene setting – Hell’s Kitchen : SS.

Co-written with Zetta, Moo, Artie, Frids and Aion.

 

Zetta:  The air was thick with atrocity, untold badness swarmed this place like locust. Blitz couldn’t put his finger on anyone’s scent right now, there was far too many others in the wind, even with the door busted open leading a gentle breeze consistently throughout the place there was no immediate change in what he was catching whiff of. Having already deduced a hint of death, there was too much to be normal, it was amazing to him that the others had not been hacking up. Since it had barely been a day since he last ate, at the ball, he was certainly capable of doing so, only through consideration for his surroundings that he managed to restrain himself. Eren seemed idle, oh well, the other man aligned with Gluttony would begin moving about on his own as usual. Despite this allied force, the likes of Blitz was boundless compared to mortals, not out of any desire to turn on authority, but because he was free completely. “I’m parkin’ it here, Boss. This place creeps me out..” He said simply, wanting to post himself up against the other side of the wall from Victoria, the woman appeared to take solace in current loneliness.

So without another word he would begin walking backwards until getting on the opposite side of doorway. Then, before creating any distance between Beelzebub and the Doctor, who had just approached the three of them, he heard the addressing of a title. Prince of Gluttony… Out of everything, those were the words the male deity hung onto. Prior to coming into Hell’s Kitchen, Blitz had taken steps into the place after the blonde assassin, he had a similar demeanor that she appeared to, generally uncaring. After hearing that last bit though, he acknowledged the prince he followed as someone who was not just strong and capable of forcing change, but one who others as well made note of. The doctor bowed then, just as the deformed man in his service had prior, this would be the first time Blitz felt proud to be aligned with someone. While close-range, he then took in as much information as he could about the doctors capabilities, while remaining unaware of exactly how science defined the doctor, he at least knew of any supernatural abilities under his possession. From there he turned towards Victoria, already knowing some of her arsenal he wanted to see why exactly the glutton prince had come to her directly, giving her ultimatums and clawing her from Anarchy Division, instead of just paying her for a temp-service as a body guard.

“How long have you and the prince exchanged like that?” He said inquisitively, but also nonchalant. When he came to assist Eren, Victoria was already at Beelzebub’s defense. Yet here she was actively avoiding a supportive role to the man, caked on top of their words to each other earlier he already suspected a serious bad-blood between them. This could easily be explained if she told him something like ‘long story’ though, speaking seemed to be a problem for her, so he was already not expecting much. Realistically though,he wanted to kill time without leaving the building and without stepping any further inside.
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His face twisted at Victoria’s response, referring to him as a bug which she intended to smash, she mentioned him being on a paper. “Whoa, whoa.. You almost upset me just then.” Spoken without even the slightest emotion, since he already had what he wanted in her being with him, there was no need to be angry regardless of what she said. To express this, he told her differently, with an evident tone of a liar, or someone who did not care, the order of things was all in his hands. If not, her words translated to him that to her, the prince was merely an inconvenience, in accordance to the words of praise he had just given to that of an insect. The beetle, her intended taunt became verbal proof of what he was saying, that while she apparently belittled him from the start, he had effortlessly severed her connection to Anarchy Division. Scoffing to show an attitude he moved ahead of her still..

Beelzebub was first welcomed by Igor, after first greeting the hunchbacked man, taking in formalities that were customary to only that of the Seven Princes. Even that of nobles paled in comparison to the gratitude necessary to show to one of them, the demonic glutton specifically had this treatment directly after his birth. It was odd when he was approached so casually by that man in the Town Square, but he decided then that if he was not preoccupied he would have gone to eat him. Therefore casting the disrespect off as a fluke. In this regard he chuckled lightly, until that of the Doctor appeared, showing up with a punctual welcoming that overshadowed his assistant’s presence completely. The Prince nodded at the address before watching the bow take place, the same time that he was relayed to by one of his new subordinates, Blitz. Beel’s hand was still in pocket, and so to ‘shoo’ off that advance he shrugged his shoulders. “Just don’t make it hard to find you.” Even with being told that the man would remain at the entrance/exit, people always had a way of doing their own thing, his words then was a reply to that. Just then, the Doctor would return to his standing straight position, his shoes clicked together still in what would seem to be a prepped stance..

“Huhuh-” A chuckle, but in his dark, deep, low-tone voice, even that came out altered to sound rather menacing in nature.. Now that the two main players were looking eye-to-eye it was time to get things moving again, first order of business, the Doctor caught on quick and already moved to lead the man down a corridor. They would be headed to the main office, thankfully without any apparent delay. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach.” A play on his represented sin, the prince had indeed bit off more than he could chew choosing to go head to head with Mammon with nothing but a fist. Overconfidence left him with a reminder of that battle, but with his friend dead, there was not even a means of getting payback. Though he would find himself tearing down Lydia, and her Kingdom, just to spit on what legacy that man left behind. Nothing personal, as Greed would be one of the last most likely, with it’s diminished army.. Beelzebub was just hungry for more.

 

Moo:  Narcissa was not a creature to sleep. Being up all night, she could only lay there and be a good monster for the Doctor. Otherwise, who would entertain her? She did it herself, often reading through books on anatomy or other cool things the Doctor did with the bodies they collected. How long before they would raise an army of people like Loc? Certainly not as special as she was with the powers she’d been granted. Her feet kicked silently and slowly as she laid there with a book in front of her, humming quietly. Nobody else was in the room; it was a time for her to be subtle. Until the door popped open. She swore she heard it, but when she looked back, it was closed again. The frankensteinian monster merely shrugged and continued her humming and reading. There was a muffled yell from the hall, grabbing her attention at long last and she sat herself up, peering back at the door. Narcissa knew it was early in the morning by now, so maybe the Doctor was finally awake. She stood to walk toward the door, opening it slowly to look out. To no avail. But she did hear Loc and Igor having their own fun in the Doctor’s chambers. Her eyebrows lifted as she listened, and finally giggled, grinning to herself before she slipped out of the room to make her way to the chambers. But oops, too slow. Narcissa looked around, continuing toward the front of the building as she slid the lab coat on over her body and buttoned it around the waist. “GOOD MORNING!” she nearly bellowed out to the rest of the building, grinning. From the noises and chatter coming from different directions, it was apparent that the Doctor was busy. Maybe the entire crew would have their work cut out for them.

 

Frid:  After instructing Loc to simply set the door aside he then motioned for the gigantic lout to head into the foyer. Seemingly excited to meet a new friend Loc set the heavy door off to the side before lumbering his way toward the two men. Once he had positioned himself accordingly Igor launched into a sing song like introduction. “Loc…is his name. The latest from the factory floor. Fresh off the field of Wrath. A real keeper.” Intrigued by the hunchback’s words Delsin took a step forward and eyed the creature briefly. Judging by the various body parts and stitching covering his entire body the rumors Delsin had heard about the Doctor were true. Not only could mend the wounded he could also bring them back from the dead too! As further confirmation to the bounty hunter’s suspicions a Voice rang out saying “I made him.”

The Doctor had just reached the end of the stairs tugging at his jacket sleeves before noticing the door had been knocked clean off its hinges.“We have a bell, you know.”The Doctor added, before extending his hand towards Delsin and introducing himself. Glad to finally meet the eccentric Doctor the bounty hunter took his hand and shook it firmly. “Delsin Rowe, perhaps I’ll use the doorbell on the next visit.” he retorted casually before Loc interrupted with a low growling sound. Shortly after dark shadows began entering the doorway and then the foyer. Delsin quickly released the Doctor’s hand and looked to the entryway curious as to the cause of the disturbance.

Much to his dismay the bounty hunter saw none other than the Prince of Gluttony himself step into the room. In addition the Prince had also brought a few other travelers along with him. Of all the royal princes of hell Beel was probably the most self-righteous of the bunch and expected all to kneel to his greatness. Right on cue Igor and the Doctor smiled at the gelatinous prince and greeted him happily. Delsin on the other hand had decided to skip the formalities and simply lean up against a nearby wall. he then pulled out a small pack of cigarettes he’d stashed in the breast pocket of his jacket. With little care for anyone else in the room Delsin placed one of the slender white cylinders between his lips and promptly lit the other end with a few sparks from his fingers. With the cigarette now alight he took took few deep breaths allowing the noxious smoke to fill his lungs. Enjoying the taste he held his breath for a moment then released a cloud of thick black smoke as he exhaled. Once the Doctor had finished exchanging pleasantries with his new guests he motioned for the group to follow to the main office. Without a word Delsin peeled himself from the wall and headed for the office behind the others, all the while still puffing on his cigarette carelessly.

 

Aion:  

Eren had little to no care in the world at this point due to the many things he seemed to be involved in, and the thing he was involved in. It was rare for him to be so active but being this active is something that could be worthwhile due to him following a constant hunger in Beel, and a powerful fight in Blitz. Just being around two extremely strong people was enough to get his blood going and get him motivated to start something but at this point it was his place to be starting anything but to simply be the finisher in whatever Beel decided to do for himself. Eren had been following Blitz and the Prince along with the girl for sometime until they reached a structure. Never coming into this place before or knowing of its existence he simply ignored it until they were at the doors to it in which a question was asked of him from Blitz. “Nope I haven’t actually. I never even knew this place existed here, and I’m assuming you had no idea of this place either since you’re asking if I’ve ever been here.” Shaming his head he slid his hands into his pockets. The sights that he had saw when he actually did step into this place was beyond foul, the stench of blood and death was almost toxic but to him this was normal, the smell of death and the aroma of blood lingering was something he loved especially since it was a rarity for him to even act in such a way. Enjoying the smell so much he I baled deeply through his nostrils, inhaling so hard he sucker the air out of the room for a brief moment before exhaling with a small smile. He was about to say something to Beel when a man who creepiness was beyond a level he had never felt before, an uneasy feeling that made him ball his first but release it just as quick as Eren wasn’t here to fight but to await lord Beel’s arm to either be heal or recieve a new one all together. Releasing a soft sigh he was now leaning up against the wall with Blitz now, he glanced st Victoria but she seemed to have a stick up her ass for some reason or another but most likely due to what had occurred in the Town earlier. Chuckling go himself he closed his eyes for a moment to catch his thoughts on what was happening.

Following a gluttonous prince, following Blitz, a brute of a female who doesn’t speak any English, a doctor who is far beyond any level of creepiness he’s seem so far, and an unknown agenda that Beel has yet to reveal to anyone. Releasing a soft sigh he glanced up to see that Beel was following after the doctor now. Using the air waves in this place to hear the words Beel had been saying Eren relaxed at the door with Blitz and would stay idle here until the Prince would return with or without the doctor.

Finally feeling at ease after all this time his breathing was regulated now and seemed normal but that was until his heart nearly skipped a beat at the loud noise of someone in this place, not being able to pinpoint the exact position of this person was annoying but did they have to be so loud? Shaking his head slowly he tilted his head to Victoria as Blitz had asked her question, and then his head titled to Blitz. “Do you think she’s this angry because she doesn’t get none? I’ve heard that can happen, or do you think she’s mad because of something? Maybe frustrated about something internally?” He remembered the sly remark she gave him back in the town so he’d take the perfect opportunity to get under her skin in any way possible. She was female with way too much confidence in her own ability as if she couldn’t get overwhelmed by anyone here if they truly wanted, not focusing on her any longer he bag snapping his finger to create fire, and destroy the fire on his fingertips as a source of enjoyment until Beel came back from whatever he’s deciding to do. Smelling smoke Eren looked I the direction of the man who was smoking a cigarette and sighed, all that harmful smoke that nobody wants to inhale, Eren pointing his finger at the man fired off a bullet sized fireball at the cigarette in an attempt to get him to drop the thing or at least get somewhere that nobody has to smell that. It would just be better for everyone as well as the man to just put out his cigarette and move on with his day until they leave at least.

 

 

Razorbackwriter:  

Hell’s Kitchen

For such an early hour, business appeared brisk. First the arrival of the gentleman by the name of Delsin Rowe. The Doctor had not encountered this chap before, but he was well mannered enough, even buying into the Doctor’s sarcastic comment that he might consider using the doorbell when he next came to visit the Lab. Word must be spreading about the Doctor’s work, for Deslin to have come to meet with the Doctor personally – and that can be counted as a good thing. Any publicity being good publicity. The Doctor was about to ask the man as to the nature of his visit, when the Prince of Gluttony and his entourage entered the building. There are certain rules of behavior that are established throughout the many realms of Hell, and respect for the Princes – regardless of sin was paramount. One wrong word….one foolish gesture and your entire business could literally go up in flames. Wilhelm was sure to get back to attending to Deslin after he was sure to greet the Prince and his party with a dignified response. A throwback from his German heritage, he acted much like his grandfather would have when meeting a dignitary.

The Doctor’s eyes went from the Prince, to each in his party. A very large chap that could not hide the look of disapproval for what was either the decor, or possibly the smell. The lab was like a catacomb of various buildings and underground chambers that housed thousands of rotting corpses. Many were kept on ice, but…with the recent war in wrath, they still had many to catalog from before the Greed ball. The smell of death was not to everyone’s tastes, but the Doctor had grown accustom to it. A woman had followed along behind the gentlemen, but she was quite vocal in her sarcasm – though it had nothing to do with the lab nor its staff. That was more of a private matter, and was treated just as such. The final man to enter took an interest in the Prince’s dealing with the Doctor. Perhaps a loyal follower, but he showed little to no interest in the lab either. This was just another port of call, before they returned to their own realm. The gathering hovered about the entrance, the first male suggesting that he would wait there, probably so he wouldn’t be sickened by the horrid aroma. They were just damn lucky that Loc was no longer suffering from the effects of the garlic pizza. One blast from his anus and it was enough to melt your face off.

Much to the Doctor’s surprise however, Narcissa appeared – her voice booming out towards all assembled with her cheery greeting. The Doctor glanced upward and looked about for Shamus Gold, who thankfully had not reappeared. Seeing his Frankenstein female creation, he waved her down to meet with the new guests.

“Narcissa. Would you be so kind as to offer the Prince’s minions some refreshments. Oh…and get Deslin here an ashtray.” The smell of cigarette smoke having reached him. Amazing how the Doctor’s nose was quite sensitive to it. Igor happened to notice that the last guest to arrive had aimed a small fire ball like charge towards the cigarette that Deslin was holding. Would the man really consider such behavior in the Doctor’s foyer? What was worse was that Narcissa could get caught in the crossfire.

The Doctor knew that the Prince would hunger for something much more than the odd tray of finger food and chicken nuggets. Walking into his main office, the priority was to ensure his guests were all catered to – be it food, drink…or in the Prince’s case a new arm. He happened to make a throwaway comment that his eyes were bigger than his stomach. This must have had to do with how he came to lose his arm in the first place. The Doctor did not know the details, but he did know that he was the man that could do something about it.

Going into the main office, was like entering a strange specimen collection room, matched with a large desk, rows of book cases, and tanks that were filled with all manner of creatures. Life sized and suspended in special aminoic like fluid. The many creatures looked to be sleeping almost. It was clear that the Doctor had some very strange hobbies. If the Prince and Deslin happened to notice Narcissa, the Doctor would comment.

“Narcissa was….my first attempt at resurrection. Though she is a special case.” Wilhelm did not want to elaborate further on that, as it brought back so many haunting memories. If Deslin and the Prince entered the inner sanctum of the Doctor’s office, they would be offered a large leather chair each, as the Doctor prepared to help each in turn. The most obvious was of course the Prince, since he was visibly missing an arm. Leaning against his desk, he folded his arms, studying the damaged limb. Wilhelm thought for a moment as he considered the options that were available.

“My Lord Beelzebub, I imagine you wish to have something unique and more useful in place of the arm you have lost. Come to think of it, I may have something that would only add to your great power.” Unfolding his arms, he walked around his desk and then pulled open a drawer that held many cream coloured files. It was a good thing that he was so particular when it came to cataloging body parts, especially at a time like this. “I am quite capable of building a cybernetic replacement that doubles as an arm cannon…..HOWEVER…I was thinking of something more solid.”Wilhem gripped his right hand into a fist as he said the word ‘solid’, then pulled out a picture of exactly what he had in mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, after he had stared at the image on the paper.

“This…is known as the Right hand of doom.” The arm was reddish in colour and looked to be made from rock, with special markings on the sides. “Don’t ask me how I got it. Let’s just say, I have many associates on the black market willing to trade anything for a price.” the Doctor then passed the picture over to Beelzebub, waiting to see his reaction.“First and foremost is its durability, it is made of a rock-like substances which makes it very hard and impossible to injure. It’s also shown mystic properties, from the reports I have.” If this was a sales pitch, the Doctor was being a real pro. “From testing, it has unharnessed levels of power, that are yet to be discovered. Barely tapped the surface on that, my Lord.” With an arm like this…imagine what it could do to the balance of the Hell Princes. For what Beelzebub had lost, this would be a very rewarding replacement.

This was why the Doctor was so good at what he did. Research and constantly striving to learn as much as he could about the lore and availability of useful creatures and body parts for his experiments.

“The best part….it works even without its original host.” What more could you want?

As the Prince was left to ponder this interesting possible replacement, the Doctor shifted his attention over to Deslin. “I imagine you are not here to invest in spare parts.” Wilhelm had not noticed a deformity upon the man’s person. “If you are selling bodies, we do have a pick up service. We aim to please.”

~RB~

 

Artie:  Victoria gazed off into the distance, fuming quietly. Great. More people to see her shame of being associated with the bumbling giant. She spoke no words back to Blitz, nor Eren, already angered enough. As if she really needed this in her life. She was second in Command of the Anarchy Division. No prince owned her. No inferior being such as the troublemaking fire man could make her flinch. If he wanted to make dirty jokes and degrade her, fine. But she would not stoop to his level. The blonde assassin gazed aimlessly at the room’s contents, not quite registering what she was saying but gazing anyway… “Be back at castle.” Her words should have been mumbled, but instead were loud and steady. Proud. As if she couldn’t give any less of a fuck on his response – which, frankly, she couldn’t. In fact, she’d love very much to blow his brains out. “Use your little insects to find me. They are all you have.”

That comment also insulted Eren and Blitz, insinuating that they were no more than insects. How dare she talk to them in such a voice, you ask? Because, frankly, she could not muster a fuck to give. With those words Victoria would open the large doors of the Laboratory, walking out and not even bothering to close them behind her. She’d go to the Kingdom, but not willingly. And not soon, anyway. With his damned spies, Victoria felt she didn’t have a choice – and that was something that irritated her more than anything else ever could.

Zetta:  The room echoed with plague, with even the slightest turns of his head the Glutton Prince could identify the numerous horrors in the Laboratory section of Hell’s Kitchen. It seemed that no matter where his red oculars took him, he was constantly absorbing another sighting of terror. His walk was steady at first, but then became slightly awkward when he began twisting his body to face different directions, his legs following after. At this time, the only one still walking nearby was Eren, who had then immediately halted his own moving forward to allow Beelzebub to aimlessly look around at his surroundings. The one who was not so attentive, similar to the prince in that he did not particularly care for the others in the room except for the Doctor, was the man who visited this establishment before the ravenous demon himself. Delsin, the rumored bounty hunter, unintentionally came right into Beel’s pathway, the one he had personally been paying no mind to. Where normally, the two beings would collide, bringing them both apart in an initial forceful budge: Beelzebub was far bigger, and more immense in terms of mass and strength. Beel would bump into the bounty hunter, and push him aside. To which, the air itself parted itself from the quickness when he felt something collide with his large body, instantly pausing his every motion to confront this annoyance..

“Delsin, huh.” He said, with a light snarl. “Watch yourself, or i’ll eat you.” Without any knowledge of who or what the person was, he threatened to indulge himself with their entirety, this was mutually a warning as well, to make the man then acknowledge who it was beside him. Regardless of the response, Beelzebub would turn away with a rather regal look, and decide to walk forward, ignoring the presence thereafter to continue on his own whims. Unlike before however, he was now alert to the surrounding, having been inconvenienced with his own lack of concerns at the time. Following after Dr. Willhelm without missing a beat. Upon passing through the double-doors, being led by the Doctor himself, Beelzebub was opened up to many different ideas. All of which originated from what he was newly introduced to, entrapped within a building of glorious experiments, the man was almost panting like a dog with all that the other man before him had been so committed to. “You’ve really done well in presentation, Doc, I would like a facility just as productive as this in my Kingdom.” Spoken true, and at the same time Victoria had vocalized her parting, which was smart considering what Beel had told her prior to getting here. The doctor’s good impressions had blinded him completely to the blonde’s presence. So he said a bit on this impression, smiling now, to have unwarranted linings of corpses all in one place to test out he would definitely find some ways of genetic manipulation. That very thought consuming him more and more with each passing second. This would speak to Beelzebub’s character, his reaction to Delsin was how a ‘typical’ royal would act in such a circumstance with someone they did not know. His reaction to the Doctor was more of his concern, and so had deserved his appreciation so that he might be able to attain something he wanted..

As they first past into the room where the prince would be intrigued the most: They were welcomed in with an unexpected cheeriness from another assistant, this one female and not hardly a sight for sore eyes unlike the others he had previously been introduced to. Save for that tall man who had been fumbling with the door earlier, prior to the Prince’s arrival with his own group. Shortly after laying eyes on the nurse he had received a very similar introduction as when he first met Igor, just another creation at first, until the being adopted their own personality over time. This one already seemed to be bursting with energy. His eyes lit up upon catching wind of an animated corpse before him. “You resurrected her?!.. Was it with magic, or science?” His kind had only just begun to find themselves breaching the threshold that humans had already dived into that was technology. Although barely understood, he did know that workings of mechanics had done some amazing things in foreign lands, one such was with the Doctor’s experiments. An answer wasn’t needed immediately, because it was then that Beelzebub was introduced to yet another fascination when Willhelm spoke, first of cybernetics, something beyond what he personally knew of, and then when the other man bawled his fist. The word ‘solid’ made the prince antsy, it became apparent that the Doctor had something special in mind, as he should with a highly frequent and paying customer. “The Hand of Doom?” As it was probably originally called, since it could be potentially be modified to fit onto either hand, had rubbed the glutton prince in all of the right ways. Every word spoken of the item was to his greatest desire, the Doctor knew all of the right words, the thing was sold before he had even finished, but the other man did well to explain it’s qualities so that the consumer ate it all up.

As usual of Beel though.. This called for some thinking about, the Doctor mentioned it’s usefulness without it’s original host, a pondering concept to be looked into while taking a seat on the lounge chair prepared for him. A more thoughtful consumer would have needed an explanation on what that entailed, and knowledge of whatever mystics enchanted the item itself, as far as truer capabilities and limits. However, for the glutton, all he needed to know was that it could replace his missing hand, and that with it he would be at a greater advantage. He was already given his cake with that knowledge, and all of it’s selling points was that cake being fed slowly to him. Ideal for the plans he was setting into motion. With paper in-hand on it’s schematics, the prince became so excited that he leaped from his chair, moments after having it setup for him. It was slightly crumbled in his hand, obviously from the unrestrained excitement. “Yes!.. I want it! Where is it!” Like a kid in a candy store. But his voice was still filled with base, deep with masculinity as an example of the man from whence it came. Beelzebub would have shoved the hand onto the bone of his forearm with no hesitation if he could have, most likely the reason why it was not put before him yet. When his seller had taken to cater to the other guest, it left the prince jittery since he had already come to his decision, not instantly though.. Where had that wonderful opportunity gone, and why!?
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Blitz had already taken to crossing his legs, his head was up watching the Prince of Gluttony move off with Eren, and the other man he had not come to know just yet. Instead of approaching that one for his identity though, the man himself was taking to a conversation with Victoria, the intelligent kinetic was a misty haze of questions. All of which were towards her being here, allied with Gluttony. He took no part in their engagement after all. It would be a challenge to get her to open up, he knew, because her aura of fury, even while hiding these feelings from her facial expression. Every mannerism and word she gave up was one of disrespect or disdain of some kind, most would take this as an individual who is simply bitter but there was very likely a heavy brand of honest loyalty invoked here. Eren had decided to stay behind momentarily, shooting a comment as the blonde lady for being inactive, coincidentally the demigod had only recently come from living in that frame of reference. He and Astarte shared a long time in relations with one another, it was why her disappearing act had him so alert at first. Out of trust, these thoughts had been disbanded almost entirely, but now he was faced with them again after the revival of a topic. With a simple sigh, he reminded himself of the words he thought up then, and was right back on track with the verbal exchange between Eren, Victoria, and Blitz himself..

Or at least what it would have been if the woman was not so taken aback by the words spoken, she removed herself entirely from the conversation. Before she stayed back at the entrance to distance herself from Beelzebub, now she had lifted herself off of the wall and left the building itself. Saying only to Beel that she would be at the castle. It seemed unlikely that she would accomplish anything, but even more frustration if strapped to her lonesome. Getting in the castle wouldn’t be an easy task either considering she did not seem especially powerful, if she marched to the gates in a huff then she would be subject to attack. “I’ll make sure sure she doesn’t do anything stupid..” He muttered as he rose himself from the wall as well.. Similar to how he was attacked by Sloth in attendance at Greed, things just happened when it came to the seven Kingdoms in Hell, this being the prominent reason for his own joining up with Gluttony, having a name that held weight backing his every motive. With this thought he put to fingers to his forehead in a quick solute to Eren as he would take off after the woman. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, guess we’ll be meeting at the castle man.” He said, a wide grin overwhelming most of the bottom-half of his face. Blitz took off with rapid-flight, with two guards gone, this left Eren to be the only one still at Beelzebub’s side. The black-phoenix’ presence was needed though while their prince had only a single hand in his defense, his mind daunted over to the possibility of Eren earning a higher rank than he, when the time came for the prince to actually assign jobs to his new officers. He decided to be uncaring about it, so long as he got to fight without leisure. Right now he would be right after Victoria.

Moo:  Narcissa cheerfully made her way toward the Doctor as she was waved over. Glancing around at the guests curiously, she grinned again and waved as a simple means to greet everyone simultaneously. Her head turned as Wilhelm addressed her, nodding. “Sure, Doctor.” The girl hummed a tune while she turned to let herself out, hearing his statement as the door closed behind her. A shrug of her shoulders. Narcissa was his first creation, yes. But she was still impressive. Despite her seemingly overly-bright personality and simple-mindedness, she was still capable of a few feats anyone had yet to see. Or, anyone but the Doctor himself, at least.

Grabbing an ashtray for the man named Deslin was easy enough. Narcissa’s eyes wandered about the room when she rejoined it, ashtray in one hand, glass in another. Conversation was still going on–something about a Hand of Doom. The frankensteinian monster made a long, low whistle at the sound of the name. It was an impressive thing the Doctor had in store. For him to offer it to Gluttony meant some good business in the future, if he was in fact able to throw the sales pitch successfully. She looked up at the towering prince; taller than even herself, standing at six feet. A slight shrug of her shoulders and she walked over to Deslin with a smile. “Here ya go.” She offered the tray, lifting her hand with it flat in her palm…just in time for a small bullet-size flame to whizz right above it toward the man’s cigarette. Without actually shrieking, Narcissa was quick to jump back with widened eyes and a rather loud gasp. Hopefully the flame hadn’t caught Deslin or any flammables behind him. Narcissa turned to glare at whoever the culprit was. Yes–glare. Fire brought out some of the worst in her, after all.

 

Masked Desire – Fable of Swords.

The true depths to which Lady Dominique would go to defend what is hers was only now being known.  Behind the green eyes, and the beautiful smile, lay the beating heart of a true demon.  Only thing was….she was human.  This night would now bring the players to her game table.  Nobles that wished to partake in sins of the flesh.  A gathering of her faithful – masked from the light.

The Slave Market and Spa

Co-written with Moo and Chor.

Moo:


Ava smirked as her stirring slowed gradually to a stop. Dominique’s grin was enough to give her an answer; she would in fact have a special job to do this evening. The woman lifted her drink and took a long sip as she listened to the ginger talk. With a small and thoughtful mmm, Ava set it back down on the bar and licked her lips. “I would be glad to ease the weight from your shoulders,” she prompted. The explanation that followed wasn’t what she had expected completely. But knocking a man down a few pegs would always be payment enough for the woman. Not to mention the damage he had probably done was something to her property here in the slave market. He sounded like a pig…like someone she might enjoy toying with. “I’m listening…” Her elbow rested against the bar as she leaned forward to show her interest in the job. A small heh and she was grabbing the bag of coin, weighing it in her hand as she listened to the rest. Her eyes lifted to meet Dominique’s, a small and playful grin settling on her lips. “Of course. You have my word it will be done tonight.” At this point, the compensation meant less to her than the joy of seeing the scum grovel at her feet. “He’ll be left with nothing but his humiliation…” Strip the man of his pride along with everything else. What a refreshing…and appealing thought.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave Market and Spa

Oh how Dominique adored hearing words of acceptance to the idea of cheating this horrid wife beating scum out of everything. It was almost as delicious as eating a favorite fruit. The slave Mistress knew well of Ava’s views on the types of men that treated women no better than dogs. One thing that the shared was that while they did buy and sell people for the use of pleasurable entertainment, they did their best to ensure that they were treated as valuable commodities. No expense was spared to make sure they were healthy and kept clean with decent quarters. Dominique ran one of the most exclusive spas in the city, and there was high expectations in just what her clients paid for. The niece of the King liked to think of her establishment as a pleasure dome – a place where all your cares were swept away and you were made to feel like royalty and treated to such glorious attentions. From bathing, massages and of course naughty nocturnal activities. Her events were more like theatrical styled plays where the customers became seduced into the luxurious settings and entertained by all manner of troupes and luscious ladies that tended to your every need and desire.

With Ava accepting the offered coins to be the wagers played in the game of chance, the woman would not have to spend a coin of her own money. The rewards however….oh the personal gratification would be worth its weight in gold and a memory to hold for a lifetime.

“Very good. Very good.” Rising from her chair, Dominique felt the sheer fabric of a fine shawl being draped over her shoulders by her ever attentive Tim. “I would like a full blow…by blow account when this is done, my dear.” Dominique batted her eyelashes as she flashed a wicked smile. “I so look forward to our next meeting.” That said, Dominique moved from the table, Tim only stopping to bow graciously before Ava, as a servant brought up payment for the slaves which she had delivered prior to the Ladies having a little drink.

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“With our Mistresses esteemed compliments.” There was more than enough that covered payment for the slaves of that day.

~RB~

Moo: Ava smiled as she watched Dominique rise from her chair. “I’ll be sure to save all the juicy details for you,” she returned easily. The woman was more than content to share the wicked humility she would put that gentleman through, especially with the likes of Dominique. The redhead stated the very thoughts passing through Ava’s mind, leaving her to nod subtly. “As do I,” she agreed before she stood. The redhead would be leaving the table to attend to her usual duties, it seemed. Not a problem for Ava, as she could leave the spa and continue on with her evening before her special date later tonight. She looked to Tim, who was already bowing. She gave him a nod of respect before turning her attention to the nearing servant, taking payment for the slaves she brought in today. More than enough, actually. “Thank you, darling.” Ava reached into the pouch, taking out a coin to look at before stuffing it back in. “I’ll see myself out.” With a broad smile, she began walking away, and out the door back to her carriage. Tonight was about to be one of the most entertaining yet…

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave market and Spa

Watching Ava take her leave through the grand gates, she would have seen the arriving procession of carriages all of which had black curtains to shield the nobles faces from the gazes of those on the streets. Each one that stopped had a masked man or woman exit. Each wore masks upon their faces to conceal their identities. The affair of Lady Dominique was strictly invite only, and she made sure that discretion was of the utmost importance. All the workers scattered from within the courtyard as the sound of strange music and drums could be heard, to herald the arrival of the esteemed guests.

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At the gate, two guards, whose faces were also covered, to only show their eyes took the parchment scrolls from each guest – checking them for authenticity. Scanning the scripture and the seal of De shea. Once accepted, they were handed back. A gloved hand gestured for the guests to enter the gates, one at a time. Silence befell them as on the balcony Dominique disappeared within the doors to her private chambers. There, she had four servants, all wearing masks on their faces. Dominique moved to the center of the room, and she extended her arms as her clothing was all carefully removed. it was almost like a ritual of sorts. The only male present was Tim – who stood well back as he too was being changed into the robes of the De Shea. He watched on, as Dominique was washed down, from head to foot with various sponges and cloths. Oils were rubbed into her skin, and hair plucked from places to show she was clean shaven. Perfect. Her ginger curls were brushed out till they shone – flowing down her back till it reached the very base of her back. Just resting on the rise of her rounded backside. A golden mask was fitted to her face, to shield her from the gaze of those males that may guess to who lay behind it. It was all part of the game. Finally, when dried off, she was dressed. A stunning black robe that pooled onto the floor at her feet. Each foot was lifted with care, and golden threaded sandals were fitted carefully by a servant that knelled on the ground before their Mistress. The air in her chamber was rich with burning incense, that wafted about those in the room. Almost intoxicating and added to the magic as the doors were finally opened to allow the Mistress to join with the honored guests at her night affair.

The party to end them all.

Walking with purpose, Dominique headed out and down the right passage, going down the stairs slowly to see the torch bearers ready to illuminate the path as she passed each with her head held high. Like some grand priestess, this was how the night was to be played out.

Already in the main audience chamber, those that had arrived early were already feasting upon the flesh of the masked – yet naked slaves. Men and women alike. The cries and moans of pleasure melded with the music, and as Dominique walked amongest it all, she felt her own heart start to beat faster. Sin…debauchery. This was the devil’s playground and it all belonged to her.

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If only….if only she could dance with Him upon her silk sheets, and let him drink of her sweet nectar…one last time.

The chosen male that she had picked from the line up was already waiting. He had been stroking himself into readiness as the Mistress made a bee line for him. In behind, Tim watched on. He wore his mask and he did not partake in the festivities, but no doubt his dreams would be filled with the decadent images of what he was to see. The pounding of drums continued on….the lone singer sang in an Indian chant and it was to this rhythm that the orgy got into full swing.

~RB~

Chor:  The Lady De shea’s orgies were such quiet – well, that may not be the right term- and personal affairs. There was a list and if you weren’t printed on the beautiful cut parchment then you might as well be street-scum for this coveted occasion. It wasn’t exceptionally often that the Lady had such parties, but when she did it was a special, special place at the market. Much to her surprise, she was asked to- instead of dealing with the rest of the slaves as she normally would- assist in the bathing and dressing of the Lady. This was an honour she could not pass down. The man who informed her, though not to her face and very much behind her back to another giggling housemaiden, that she ought to keep her robes on. Ashamed, she confined herself to the bathhouse until called upon to the Mistress’ quarters to ready her for the grand orgy that was to occur in a short time. As Mala went about washing the Lady’s thin form, she could only think of how beautiful the woman was. The clear, flawless skin and the untouched and perfect bone structure. What Mala really found herself jealous of was the Lady’s hair. Long and soft, curling as she held it and ran a brush through it. Eventually, the time came for the event to begin.

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Mala was dressed in her own black robe and mask. She steered particularly clear of most of the commotion and kept to the shadows, watching the event from the sidelines. She was secretly relieved she didn’t have to participate. This kind of thing wasn’t really part of her niche, but if told to she would oblige. At this moment, though, her participation would be an embarrassment and dampen on the whole party.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave Markets and Spa

If you have ever seen the frantic pace in which a beehive lives and breathes, you could say that it was something to be compared to what was taking place before Mala’s eyes. So many moving around in ritualistic movements that were done not so much by thought but by instinct. At the center of it all was the Hive’s Queen, or rather Lady Dominique. Having her robe removed by two muscular slaves with masks on and nothing else, she straddled her chosen lover for the night and rode him as though he was a prized stallion. There was no love, no emotion – just a raw display of the power that this woman had. In fact, many stopped midway through their own ministrations to take in the event unfolding. The loud grunts from her chosen and the sweat riddled face that was shielded behind the mask – stared up at his Mistress as though he was enthralled by her, as most were. But if only they knew what was going on in Dominique’s own mind. She was a million miles away with the lover of her dreams. The King. Well before his sickness, when he was the proud and powerful monarch of the lands.

It was the King who had her love, captured as though a butterfly within a jar. There was simply no escape, and there was no air in which to breathe. It would eventually suffocate and die from the starvation of the life giving air, or in this case love.

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As the robed guests milled around, and either partook, or simply enjoyed the voyeuristic pleasures to come from watching Dominique and the others – Tim moved in beside Mala. he was aware of who she was by the markings on the mask. It was his way of keeping track of just who was who and who was WITH who. Call it cataloging, or more like a type of branding that didn’t mark the skin at all. His masked face turned towards Mala, who would have been completely unaware of the Mistress’s deal with Ava. He was of course sworn to the secrecy of the Lady’s plans, but he did have one thing to whisper to the slave.

“We all get our pleasures in different ways.” His dark brown eyes would look back to his Mistress, who had amazing stamina. “But in the end….we all want the same thing…” Tim’s voice changed in this light hush so as not to be overheard. What did he mean, you think? It was a question that Mala may well ponder.

~RB~

Chor:  Mala watched display as everyone did, but for her it was but a background show. The woman was delving deep into her mind, the scene before her reminding her of the painful hours of her late night and early morning. With each moan was a flinch as her vision clouded. These were not tears, but the painful reminders of her lack thereof. Friendly dwellers to blur her sight. As Tim appeared beside her once more…the second time this day, she peered to him. Looking more through him than at him. He spoke and she listened, feeling and tasting the words on her lips as he said them. She looked from him to their mistress then, who was still going at it.

“I suppose you are right,” Mala whispered to him, clasping her hands before her and resting them against her torso. What did Mala’ikan really want? Freedom? She knew this unattainable. Love? She knew this to be a lie. Happiness? Ha, she laughed in the face of happiness. She wished often for a life worth living, but there has never been anything she truly wanted save for death…on so many occasions, death.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave market and Spa

Tim stood beside Mala and did not react to Mala’s whispered words. In a way he was hypnotized by watching his Mistress in her sexual movements with the chosen slave. The Mistress was not one to go from one to the next, like you might expect. When she had done with him, she’d retire to an area that was screened off, but still with viewing portals and able to hear all that was going on. This was as much to watch the masked nobles. Little did the nobles understand when they were sent their masks by special delivery that Dominique had picked them personally. Mentally, she was able to work out exactly who was who and what they favored, or rather what their kinks were. It enabled her to provide, not only a better service to them in the coming months, but in some ways it was leverage. A true Queen of her web of sin, she was slowly but surely wrapping each up using their own hedonistic pleasures in which to trap them. Oh yes, she promised discretion and anonymity to those that partook in these events, but at the end of the day, they were all pawns on her chess board that would eventually come to realize that there was no escape.

A true demon in every word, except she was the daughter of Eve.

Having finished with her chosen slave, she caressed his masked cheek, before sliding off his lap and then having her robe placed back around her by two of her servants. The wickedness was to continue until the wee hours, or until the last man finished, but it did not need her to be there the entire time. Dominique was above all others and would move to her special viewing area, where she would be cleaned of the sweat and sexual juices, before getting comfortable on a cushioned lounge and provided with wine and fruit.

Her mask could now be removed, as she was no longer in plain sight and this was when Tim was given the signal to Tim to bring Mala down to this special area.

“Come.” He asked simply, gesturing with Mala to follow, till they reached the veiled off area.

Once inside, Mala would be able to see Dominique lying back, wearing nothing but necklaces and a few anklets.

“Ah…Mala, do come in.”

Tim would nod for the woman to do as instructed, but he would then remove his mask. An indication that Mala should do the same.

“Mala, I do not wish for you to leave this eve. I have arranged a special room to accommodate you.”

If Mala had any reservations as to what her husband may say of this, she was about to find out in very harsh terms.

~RB~

Chor:  As the mistress finished, there was a hush before the masses once again started up their own rituals. Noises of passion filled Mala’s ears and despite her attempts to flush them out, they became a music. Often she was assigned a place with those charged with musical accompaniment for the night, but it seemed there was a separate purpose for her at this evening affair. Tim gestured towards the place where their mistress went to rest and she obliged, following obediently. Years and years ago, this willingness to do just as she was told would have sickened her. The learned response now is just agreement. To fight is to lose and to lose it to die.

“My lady,” Mala spoke, bowing to her mistress until given the permission to stand and look upon her. Her sight was breathtaking, as always, and her activities brought a glow about the mistress’ form that Mala could only dream of. Mala drew her robes closer in disgust at herself. She reluctantly removed her mask, but it did nothing if the woman already knew of her identity underneath. What came out of the mistress’ dark and luscious lips was a complete surprise. It also brought great anxiety. My stars, that man will kill me yet… A nod bobbed her head; she could not refuse. In her eyes, though, there was evident fear and confusion.

Razorbackwriter:  

The Slave market and Spa

Dominique was very attuned to reading a person’s body language, and when she saw the way that Mala drew her cloak around herself, matched with that facial expression it brought about a quiet sigh from the Mistress. She knew….oh yes she knew what this meant. It actually annoyed her somewhat, but it also confirmed much of what she was already thinking. Those dark eyes showed the very pits of the poor girl’s soul. What terrible things had the man that was known as simply her husband done to her within the confines of their marital home? The Slave Mistress could only imagine. Dominique’s eyes darted towards Tim, who was present as always.

“Leave us a moment.” Her voice directed to her assistant, who graciously bowed and made his way out of the secluded area. Tossing aside a cushion, Dominique pushed herself up off the lush spread of satin pillows, and without a seeming care in the world about her state of undress, she moved with the grace of a panther towards the girl, and reached for the tie that held the robe she wore in place. The Slave Mistress was careful in her movements, her eyes not leaving that of Malas’s as she un-threaded the robe to let it simply fall from the girl’s shoulders. Dominique did not show an expression of lust, nor want as she let her eyes take in that of Mala’s naked form. Instead, she started to walk around her, inspecting her body and making up her own mind about what she could see, and what she couldn’t. Some marks were very hard to hide, but not only that, the girl’s reaction to the simplest touch would speak volumes.

Coming in behind her, Dominique tilted her head slightly, as she drew the tip of her finger along one of the lash marks that were on the girl’s back. It was not done to hurt the girl, but to make her understand full well, that the Mistress was no fool. She knew what that beast of a man had done.

“Why hurt something so beautiful?” Her words were like whispers within the back ground of the sounds of pleasure that were happening just beyond the screen. Dominique appreciated the beauty of Mala’s all too gaunt form. If the Slave Mistress had her way, she would plump the girl up a little. Dominique stepped up so now her naked body could just be felt upon the girl’s back. The Slave Mistress then swept the girl’s hair back softly, before bending in to kiss the back of the girl’s neck. Her hot breath sure to send a wild sensation throughout the shivering girl’s form. “You should be worshiped for the Goddess that you are.” An almost lusty tone now entered these words, as Dominique brought her hands around and placed one hand upon the girl’s stomach, the other gently resting upon her breast.

“I won’t let him harm you ever again. I promise.” A hushed yet husky whisper melded with the gentleness of her wandering hands, proved weight to that statement. “You shall remain here….and I shall teach you what it is to be loved.”Her nose moved along the tip of Mala’s ear, before she slowly released the girl and went back to her nest of satin pillows. Settling back in, she clapped for Tim to return back into the room. He was quick to cover the girl once again with the same robe that had fallen to the floor.

“Take her to the Ambrosia suite.” The Ambrosia suite was one for the richest of nobles, but for tonight, it would be Mala’s room. Without another word, Dominique went back to peering through the viewing portals at her writhing guests.

~RB~

 

 

 

 

 

The Maze of Greed – Part Seventeen : SS.

Bandit’s life flashes in front of her eyes as she is about to find peace within the arms of a fallen.  Was she accepting her death, or was this last explosion of memories to make her realize the little girl she had forgotten?

Scene setting : The Maze of Greed – Seven Sins series.

Co-written with Dessy, Artie and Phyln.

 

Dessy:  Mariela shot a look towards Raul, but said nothing else on the matter. “Scar…” she said when he snarled, but said nothing more. She looked up at Habib, giving a nod before being handed Bandit. She actually struggled a little bit to hold her up this time, walking over to a nearby fountain and kneeling down, layign Bandit down in front of it… but it wasn’t as easy as it was before.

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She turned around hearing Raul’s begging voice, and cocked her head at the tears in his eyes. “You actually care for her.” she spoke out loud. “You have a funny way of showing it.” she then spoke. “Hurting her to where she’s an inch away from death and placing a collar on her like a dog isn’t a very good way to show you “love her”.” she then snapped, before looking at Bandit.

She moved her hand around, sprouting a few vines to wrap around Bandit’s injured leg. They glowed slightly, healing the leg. “You don’t have to give your life. As much as I’d love to kill you for everything you’ve done, there’s no need.” she spoke. She could hear the gasps come from Tessa and her brothers, but the witch just rolled her eyes. “Come on, Bandit.” she then said, leaving her hand over the vine wrapped around the leg, greatening the healing magic occasionally.

Mariela whipped her head around when Scar snarled again. “Scar! Let him go.” she spoke. “He’s not going to do anything.” she spoke, before turning her gaze towards Raul. “If he does, I’ll be more than happy to take care of him myself.”

 

Artie:  

. . .

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[youtu.be]

Whispers of many, voices garbled together in a chorus of words that Bandit could not understand. Flashing lights consumed her eyes, scenes that she could not focus on from her memory encasing her, consumed with the unconsciousness of her physicality as her life flashed before her eyes. Bandit’s mind was a chorus of crescendos, an orchestrated chaos. While she would remain limp physically and paled, on the brink of death, life surged within her in a rush of force greater than it ever had before. The lights grew faster in speed, the whispers had begun a hissing and definite roar – so much so that she wished to cover her ears and scream to make it stop, to halt the yells. Pieces of her past conversations of all sorts mentally assaulted her, loud over the whispers.

“Mommy, I’m scared.” A small girl’s voice.
“I know baby.. Be strong, Beatrix. Be strong.” An older and mature woman voice.
“Mama!” The girl was crying now, a shuffle as a chorus of yelling began, men, a gunshot..

Whispers.

SLAP.
“I hate you!” Teenage girl, screaming through tears.
“You should never have been born!” A man, older. Slurred words. Drunk.

Louder, more voices of whispering.

“Don’t touch me, don’t touch- Don’t touch me!

The whispers began to be overpowering.

Sobbing, soft and muffled, as though a young woman was crying herself to sleep..

Silence.

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A single memory found itself to her subconscious. A better time, before she had earned her nickname. Back when her name was not Bandit.. but Beatrix. When she sustained enough innocence to be nothing more than a human, with issues but otherwise unscathed by the future hardships of the world in front of her.. The world that she would know to be cruel and unforgiving, willing to allow a woman to die for its own entertainment. To sit back and watch as a girl who had only tried to live became nothing more than a chew toy for others to tug-o-war with..

“Mama?” Beatrix asked, held in her mother’s loving arms. “Yes, my dear?” The woman had kind eyes and dark hair, but her eyes were a striking blue – cold, if not for the warm smile always planted on her face. Cold, if not for the lovingness that always came from her, the willingness to be there for what was her pride and joy.. The small girl held in her arms. Blue eyes gazed back into the woman’s, but these were duller. They were not striking, but simply calming, as if gazing into an ocean. Her blonde hair was pure and untainted, much like the soul within her. Beatrix could not have been older than six, perhaps maybe four or five..

“Why isn’t Daddy home?” Beatrix’s eyes were merely curious, lacking sadness and not yet understanding the concept…
“Daddy had to go out and see his friends. He’s drinking his medicine, sweetie.” The woman’s face faltered for a split second – one that Beatrix would not note, gazing down at her mother’s beautiful curls and looking back up to the smile that made the young girl smile in return. Oblivious. Ignorance was bliss..

A sudden and loud thud would then make the woman look up, from down the hall.. Something was different. It was not the knocking over of objects.. It was a gunshot. “Honey. Beatrix, baby.” Amoria crouched down to gaze at her daughter. “You need to go to the closet, and I need you to hide. Daddy’s medicine didn’t work today, he’s feeling sick. Okay?”

“Mommy,” Beatrix’s face had fallen. “I’m scared..” She sudden began to gaze around. Another crash further down the hall. Loud footsteps.. Her father’s friends had come along?

“I know, baby. Be strong, Beatrix. Be strong.” With a waving motion, Amoria would then turn to have her back towards Beatrix, standing at full height as though ready to protect her child. Beatrix did not recognize the bruises on her mother’s wrists back then.

Beatrix’s eyes widened as she suddenly was overcome with fear, waddling with her small and inexperienced feet towards her mother, seeking warmth and comfort that she would never again feel – “Mama!”

The door burst open.

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. . .

Bandit burst awake, tears in her eyes as she gasped, sitting up. A hand flinged itself over her chest, oxygen coming slowly to her as it was painful to breathe. The flood of emotions drowned her, the waves overtook her body as she was suddenly consumed in painful sobs. It hurt to cry, her chest burned with each breath. Movements sent flames throughout her body.. She was consumed with pain, the intense healing on her already weak human body nearly shattering it. Her blue eyes held even more emotional pain that physical, the emotions perhaps restricting her breaths more than her actual injuries. “Fuck! Fuck!” Each word was breathless, mixed with a choking cough.

“I can’t.. breathe!” She was breathing, but it didn’t feel like air was going through to her. For the first time in her short life, Bandit had broken down. Even Raul’s mind games had not broken her. Her first love leaving had not broken her. The death of her mother had not broken her. The abandonment of her father had not broken her. But now, with all of it coming back at once, she broke into a million pieces. A million small fragments of the girl she had been. Tender, stripped of emotions and guards that years had prepared her for putting up.. And now they had been stripped down, leaving her defenseless in front of so many people.

Her legs had ceased to bleed and now she could feel them, the dull and numb feeling that coursed from him into her core. She was a mess of tears and blood, her hair dirty in contrast to the innocent blonde it had once been in her memory. The dull blue and clueless eyes in her past were now bright and shining from the tears once within them. They had become striking, they were striking. She did not have the same warmth as her mother. The cold had consumed her – she had not consumed it…

For once, in her life, Bandit felt a need for warmth. A need..
“Someone hold me!” The words were gasped, her body shaking as she was continuously healed – it was a necessary evil for her to live, but in her conscious state it only brought her pain..
 

Phyln: His grasp was final he was not the reaper but he entertained the idea that he was the janitor of the dead, he did not farry souls over the river or collect them from the world of the living. No his was a much simpler task more often than not when the ever flowing tides of chaos removed another damned being from its eternal or rather not so eternal existence in hell he would sweep away the remnants of the power it had once possessed. grabbing a hold of the soul he began the process of adding it to his collection, dragging the spirit towards him it struggled clearly still clinging to the life it once had. However it was too late it had no where to go, even if he released it where would it run to. it was not hard to hold onto a soul when it has no where to go slowly he dragged it across the ethereal plain into the bag. as it entered the strings on the bag drew them selves closed over what to the mortal eye would appear to be nothing. opening his eyes with his task finished he fastened the bag to his belt and raised one hand in prayer. “May your eternal rest be peaceful for you have served your damnation”. his prayers were little more than ceremony at this point offering nothing than words to the dead. He turned and began his treck out of the maze at his usual brisk pace.

 

Razorbackwriter:  

Greed: The Masquerade Ball : Maze

The passing of Lydia’s soul over into the bag after putting up such a struggle meant the end of the reign of the Princess of Greed. All her magical power was now within the young witch, whether she realized this or not. Would the witch end up being cursed just as the other heads of Greed had been, or will this be the dawning of a new era? Anything was possible, least that is how things were happening up further in the now beautiful maze.

A woman who had been beaten within an inch of her life, and forced to wear a collar that’s magic drained the wearer was so close to death that nothing that the Warlock or even the fallen could do to stop the inevitable. However, it was within this moment, when life is slipping away that we look back one last time at all that has happened to us over the course of our lives. With the group watching on – fearful that Bandit would die, they were unaware that she was experiencing this near death slide show of her life, from child hood till the bitter end. It is interesting that it is not one single event in our lives that makes us who we are, but rather it is like an enormous patch work quilt. Each piece sewn together with an array of emotions and feelings that either create something beautiful and a treasure or something akin to a nightmare visage.

Stripped away of everything and all the fail safes that had been set into place to create a fierce wall in which to protect her from further harm had now crashed down into a pile of rubble, leaving Bandit exposed to everything….and all at once.

Yes, the witch was able to somehow stop the bleeding and heal the physical, but what she couldn’t do was heal the heart….the mind. Behind those terrified eyes lay a broken soul. A timid child. Cold…and frightened. Her heart eclipsed for so so long.

Scar growled as he slowly released his grip on Raul’s throat and fell back, only to watch on as Mariela did her best to heal the young girl. He crouched down beside Mariela, his eyes riddled with concern. The alp was the demon of nightmares who had been called on especially by Lydia for his talents, and he whispered to Mariela.

“I can see….what she is seeing.” The more the alp witnessed the more shocked he was. The poor girl had been through so much, and it only made him hate the Warlock with a renewed passion. Scar grit his teeth and snorted through his nostril as he waited to see if the girl would make it through.

Thankfully, Bandit’s spirit was a strong one. A fighter to the very core. Her first words as she started to come around showed that same spunk. “Fuck! Fuck!” This brought something of a relieved collective sigh, but it was what she said following, that made all realize she was not out of the woods.

“I can’t.. breathe!”

Scar threw up his hands and sat back. “I’m not doing it.” One of the things that an alp does to a victim is sit upon their chest so they feel that they can’t breathe. It had to be something else causing it. With dark marks upon his throat, Raul again stepped forward, wanting so much now to help Bandit. The only problem was, someone stood in his way.

“Turn around…and walk away.” The fallen’s wings opened out in the full to protect Bandit who was still on the ground, now shivering. Habib would simply not have Raul hurt her again. “It’s over. Return to Lust where you belong.” The two men faced off, Habib’s face was like stone as he refused to give quarter. He had seen Raul hurt Bandit over and over again. For the first time in centuries, the Warlock lowered his head. He had lost. The worst part was that it was in losing her that he truly realized what his real feelings were. This was the price he would pay for the rest of his days in Hell.

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The sounds of Bandit crying out for someone to hold her brought out a pained look from Raul. Oh how much he wanted to hold her, to cherish her now and tell her that he loved her. Sadly, it would not be him. Sighing, he turned away from the scene, his hands clenched into fists and he strode away – vanishing from the Maze of Greed.

With the Warlock gone, Habib returned to Bandit’s side and attempted to lift her up into his powerful arms. He hoped to give her the warmth and comfort she needed. Especially now.

“I’m here for you, Bandit.”

Scar rose to his feet, and gestured with his hand for Mariela’s. It was now a time to breathe, and let Mariela have a chance to speak with her family – her brothers and her friend Tessa. The Alp knew that they had a lot to catch up on.

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“Why don’t we get out of this maze and head up to your castle, my Lady?” He smiled brightly at the new Princess of Greed, and waited to see her reaction. After all, he said ‘my’ again.

 

~RB~

 

Dessy:  Mariela watched Bandit, occasionally her eyes moving to the leg that she was trying to heal. Scar came beside her, and when he whispered about being able to see everything, she turned her head to him. “What do you see?” she then whispered back, but Bandit popped up a few minutes later. With a wave of her hand, the vines disappeared and Mariela stayed on her knees, her hands holding onto Bandit’s shoulders. “Bandit, it’s okay.” she said, her face growing to concern when she said she couldn’t breathe.

Mariela grabbed and pulled Bandit into a hug, holding her as her eyes stared at Habib and Raul, her eyes shooting daggers into Raul. “Bandit, it’s okay. You’re safe.” she spoke, her voice calm and soothing as she held Bandit in a hug. When Raul turned around and walked away, Mariela’s eyes followed him until he had disappeared. She then pulled away from Bandit so Habid could pick her up. “Take care of her, and whatever you do, don’t let Raul touch her again.” she spoke.

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She looked up when Scar held his hand, giving him a smile before she put her hand in his and stood up. When Scar spoke, she gave another smile and nodded her head, before turning to look at Habib. “If you need anything, or she needs help or anything, you can come see me anytime you want. But, please, keep her away from Raul.” she spoke, before turning back to Scar.

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She gave him a smile, nodding her head. “Let’s go… my Scar.” she said, fully aware she used the word “my” to describe him, and she just ended up grinning. She turned to motion to Tessa and her brothers, telling them to follow, and after the trio all looked at each other with raised eyebrows at the way they called each other “my”, they shrugged before following behind the two.