The Unbroken Circle > The Unbroken Circle

Darkness Falls [invite only, winter solstice]

(1/8) > >>

Aska:
The moon rose over the longest night of the year. Snow had fallen, still and crystallized. The air, chill and frost laden, did not move, as if in some inspired stasis. Anticipation hung thick, vibrating along the nerves of any that came within a distance of this. The shadow at the center roiled, making one who watched wonder if it might be alive. And yet, most anyone could not bring themselves to watch that abyssal portal for long. It disturbed.

White met midnight, land and sky. The moon rose up, well balanced in her face. The hours of dark were long, the shadows danced and tarried deeply, even over the pure canvas of snow. One priestess, dressed in robes the shade of the shadows that gathered around her. For that moment in time, she appeared as exactly what she was, an abyssal priestess, unfearing of the chasm.

The only color or flash of light to be found on the tiny figure was the moon silver dagger in her hand. Wickedly curved, it was more a kris in it's makings. Within the handle, heavy stones of onyx embellished the wrought design. A keen eye might catch the odd etching over the blade. It was no design ever seen by the human eye before, but this tiny priestess barely qualified as such a thing anymore. In the etching, something black sat within, creating a veining along the silvering of the blade.

She walked deosil over the snow, consecrating the area with her dagger. Like a band of flexible, yet impassable thread, the circle's power snapped into place. It would keep things welcome in, or let them in, or keep the uninvited out. Eyes would be blinded to all but the results of this night's work.

The cloaked woman walked forward to her altar, sliding the blade into it's place on the very stone, hilt up. Her hands went to hollowed places that seemed perfectly shaped for them, shallow little cups with small holes bored into them. Those dainty hands settled. A soft hiss and moan rent the air, and the tiny figure stepped back, her hands held like a supplicant offering from her palms.

She walked the circle, and the ruby droplets stained the purity of the white. Each garnet jewel that struck the ground seemed to resonate in sound into the night air, the clear call of bells. A tolling it was, for Him. When once more she stepped into the first set of her footsteps, a deeper tone split the night. Sleeves fell back as her hands lifted to the dark sky, revealing the icy paleness of her arms. The crimson liquid ran in rivulets down her forearms.

Her hood fell back, revealing hair the same color of the expanse that she seemed to offer to. Her eyes gleamed a silvered lavender before the lashes fell closed. The wounds on her hands closed, and the blood dried. It would not be washed away. It would be sign, tribute and marking.

Her hands came together in echoing applause, if not appearing somewhat macabre in fashion. As her hands came together, a wide circle began to form of metal contraptions, eleven in all. A closer look reveals that the contraptions are very much iron maiden in look and style.

The priestess stood motionless in the center of this, and time would pass. The first phase was done. She appeared to be focusing herself.

Aska:
Those silvered pansy eyes opened, no longer far away and focused elsewhere. Movement had begun stirring from inside each of the almost medieval devices. Groggy and sluggish. Elbows bumping, banging limbs against the walls. The yelps of pain and confused shock rang through the air, as tender and bare flesh met the spiked walls. The whimpers of just blossoming fear were sounding into the night. Still too disoriented to truly begin to panic, the sounds were small and animal, human beings reduced to confounded animals.

In a symbolic gesture, the petite priestess stripped her black robes from her form. In Japanese symbology, black was not the color of death, but white. She stood in pristine robes, and to those that couldn't see truth, she may have been a beacon of purity, of the light. But those that saw the real knew that this woman walked as Death's angel incarnate. That she was darkness and shadow, nothing so soothing as purity. Dainty feet stepped over the white, white snow, barely making a mark in the field of it in their passing as she moved once more to her altar. The curvaceous blade came to her hand once again, the veining a poisonous and venomous black over the blade. Now, instead of simply looking like a tool of the little priestess, the tiny woman held it in her hand as if it was simply an extention of herself.

Her footsteps took her to the first of the metal cages. She stood in front of it, looking through the very slim slats at the person inside of it. Her slim hand lifted and a snap of her fingers brought another platform up to the surface, revealing a very sleepy and not all there dragon. "Time to wake, little sister. It is time you join your onee-san, and become that which you are meant to be." The small woman left the fire dragon to pull herself from her drugged stupor, the ecstatic and tranquilizing effect keeping her calmed, yet allowing her to come awake.

"Five of you are guilty of crimes against my lord. Harboring artifacts that you knew kept him chained, imprisoned and fettered. Each of you had lives bound to those artifacts. And to activate them, each of you shall be shuffled loose of the mortal coil. Your bloodlines ended. Your crimes will be repaid, and your sacrifice is very appreciated by I, his priestess." The lock upon the first was unlocked, the door swinging open to reveal an already bloodied female. Her age is young, perhaps her very early teens. "You, a child of Space. Die for your lord's disloyalty. The one you serve is the weaker." Blade lain upon her neck, the girl's doe eyes wide in fear, her body stricken to stillness, she could utter nothing but the smallest of whimpers before the silver sank and sought her life's blood to free it.

The black of the blade sank into her veins, and the blood pumped fast and thick. It flowed over white snow and seemed to follow a trench toward the center of the circle, only to stop in it's pool there. Life drained slowly from the girl's eyes, something about the venom black slowing her last moments so that she could feel her own flame guttering, and suffer with that pain and knowledge. Aska watched the girl's eyes drown in the despair of her knowledge and the fear of what lay beyond, and it pleased her. The wicked little flash of sadism almost wanted to twist the knife just a touch and heal her just slightly, but the priestess curbed her darker appetites. Besides, it wouldn't do for her little sister to see such a thing. She does lick at the blood upon the blade as she moves to her next potential victim. Her pause was simply to heighten atmosphere and build that fear in the air. Fear would be an excellent welcome for her lord. 

Homura:
As the pedestal rose, a voice reached a very sleepy dragon.  Her eye lids fluttered lightly as she roused from her state.  One of the sleeves of her robe fell back as the back of her hand rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear the fog.  Pulling herself out of the stupor slowly, the dragon looked around through the hazy world.  She knew the voice of her onee-san, she tried to focus on the world.  Shaking her head she tried to clear some of the cobwebs from her mind, however the world remained fuzzy.  She looked around trying to find the priestess.  "Onee-san?" her voice was quiet and shaky.

The dragon's eyes fell on the scene in front of her.  As she watched her onee-san approach the girl in the metal device, she felt herself drawn in.  Her eyes widened slightly as she watched, however she remained calmer than something told her that she should have been.  Watching and listening to the priestess she couldn't pull herself from watching the scene.  She cringed slightly and a small noise escaped her lips as the blade pierced the girl’s neck.  Caught between the ecstatic and tranquilizing effect that she was under and her heart racing, she shook lightly but couldn't tear herself away.

Aska:
Aska turned to look at the fire dragon, watching her become more and more awake and aware. "Yes, little sister, I am here." Came the soothing voice of the woman, at a very large contradiction to the image she presented, the blade against lips, blood coloring them after having licked the blade clean of the fluid. She lowered the kris and came to Mura slowly. "It is okay, little dragon. All of this is for purpose and reason. Each of these people has committed their sins, and now they will pay for them in their life's blood. It is only proper. You will meet Him tonight. He whom I serve. He must be freed. No one should be captive. Is that not right, my little sister?" Asked the priestess, that soothing voice so believeable, so calm. Big sister did not lie.

Homura:
Homura rubbed her eyes again and her breathing slowed as Aska addressed her.  Confusion lingering in her eyes for a moment as the blade remained at her Onee-san's lips.  The dragon instinctually edged closer to the priestess as she approached.  Taking in the words she nodded slowly, the tension still palpable.  It didn't feel entirely right, but Onee-san had never steered her wrong before.  "They have sinned? So they must pay with their life, their blood?"  She blinked slowly letting the words sink in.  I will get to meet him tonight?"  Her eyes widened slightly, before she nodded more adamantly.  "No one should be held captive.  If he is being held against his will he must be freed."  The little dragon was quite sure of this.  Being held against ones will, being bound a captive, it made sense to fight these, to seek freedom.

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page