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Post by Thea on Jan 23, 2024 1:22:23 GMT -5
The Goblin Market was a misnomer - Patience was sure of it. Goblin sightings are rare, and of those times she's seen them it was clear that they didn't have the mental capacity to run a highly sophisticated marketplace such as this. The labyrinth of stalls and heckling sellers of charmed odd bits and bobbles reminded the princess of the beginning scene in Disney's Aladdin. It always did. The bazaar quality of the market was highlighted by scents of foods and drinks not fit for human consumption and punctuated with music that no matter how long you followed the sound you could never find the source.
She and her twin got in with ease, showing the half-giant guards their ticket that had their great-uncle's name written in the language of the fae. They were allowed passage with a cordial (if not clumsy) bow to show their respect for their titles and who they represent. The ticket was long gone, now, having disintegrated as soon as they stepped through the fog that separated the market from the mundane world. It'll show up again in two years' time, as it has two years ago and two years before that. Wade made the mention when they first had to go on official Crown duties that whoever put this on must really love even numbers; he heard from a courtier the tickets didn't make their rounds when they were supposed to over three decades ago, and they didn't show up the following year either. It could have been a fluke, Patience countered. But it was definitely weird. The Goblin Market wasn't just a place where people could sell items that may or may not lead you directly to your true love or make you a millionaire overnight. This was the place that made or broke alliances. Secrets and favors were bartered as equally as goods and services. This event catered to every being in the universe, humans included if they had the gumption. But for the fae it was incredibly important.
Tonight especially more so. Almost a month ago the Crown of the Seelie was stolen. How was a mystery. Many have attempted, believing that whoever would be the next monarch. Of course, it didn't work like that, but this was the first time that she saw the Seelie King so angry. Distant? Sure. Petty? That was Oberon. But when the Captain of the Guard broke the news to him, the courtroom quaked with his rage. The Castle Under the Hill sank ten feet if she didn't know any better.
And the thieves didn't leave a clue. Not even Nemus, Stalcus, or Kheelan's pack of cu-sith could pick up their scent.
It was what brought Patience, Wade, and their hounds to the market this balmy night. With their bows and quivers strapped to their backs and their enchanted hunting knives in their belts, the Death Bringers made their way to the means in which they would find out who took the coronation crown.
Everyone called her The Oracle, but much like The Goblin Market her name didn't quite grasp what she was or what she could do. Only a rare few have seen her, when she's granted their wishes. But their perception of her was so vastly different from each other it was widely agreed that The Oracle was not someone that could be explained. Someone said that she looked like a hag. Another said she was a cat. A statue, a star. It had Patience wondering if it wasn't some sort of The Wizard of Oz situation, where it was just someone behind the curtain. Her lip curled at the thought of a wild goose chase. But where the King wanted his Hounds to go, she and Wade went. Regardless if they wanted to or not. The Oracle would be able to tell them exactly who they were searching for, where they were, and how they would get the crown back.
The problem?
They were going to have to fight - maybe even to the death - for the right to ask. The last person to win the right to The Oracle died a mere hour after his wish was granted because of the injuries he sustained. Patience felt sorry for him and hoped that his wish had not been wasted. Or that the prophecy wouldn't be fulfilled tonight.
Nemus's white, square head pushed against his mistress's hand in a gesture of comfort, one of the few actions that spoke of what he was physically. Though through their bond, forged by magic and something more intrinsic, she felt his concern for her. I will not let anything happen, the cwn annwn vowed stoically.
Despite how reassured she felt, her face didn't show it. Instead she had on her mask she used for court. Did it give her the moniker "Lady of Sorrows" because it made her look like she received devastating news? Yes. And it led to rumors stating that tears from her dragon eye would cure almost any ailment. It still made her chortle behind closed doors. But right now she could almost hear the booth attendee's thoughts as she watched her brother write their names on the sign-up sheets. Would she cry for me?
Then she felt a massive weight bump into her, causing her to stumble forward into the dark-clothed table before whirling on the perpetrator. "Watch where you throw yourself around," she snapped, her warning followed by Nemus's low growl.
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Post by Ventia on Jan 27, 2024 19:06:56 GMT -5
He felt feverish ever since he left the red district area no doubt one of the women had drugged him again, no matter how much Azrail reminded them he couldn't stay today they never listened, and he never learned. Dressed in all black with gold accessories, the hood covering his face he melded into the crowd, finding his way with a warm chest and flushed cheeks. Along the path, Azrail caught whiff of something and felt the hunger begin to kick in. Shit, he thought, whatever they had given him it was a good drug, he'd have enjoyed it more if he didn't have things to do today.
He still needed to sign up so he made his way to the registration area, all while his senses kept picking up on that delightful taste in the air. He was waiting in line, rubbing at his throat as that scent flooded his head, intoxicating it was, Azrail didn't remember when was the last time he had hungered over such a scent before, what would their blood taste like? What about their flesh?
He must have walked to the source of the scent because before long he was walking into her so hard, he had made her fall forward. He reached out to catch her fall, but she needed no help and was already quick in snapping at him. His breath felt hot and the desire to touch her, to climax with her and taste her in all sorts of ways made him shuddered and reacted.
"So delicate," He caught her by her waist and pushed her middle against his and tilted her chin up with a finger. Though she wore a mask and it was too dark to see her eyes, Azrail could tell she had electrifying eyes and the need to see, to know everything about her was overwhelming. Or maybe it was her scent that was overwhelming him, how sweet her blood would taste that was driving Azrail crazy. It also didn't help that the drug was making him feel hot and bothered in all sorts of ways.
"I'll have to be gentle with you." He whispered into her ear and couldn't resist taking a soft bite, his hot tongue rubbing against his possessed flesh until he was pushed back, or maybe someone had grabbed him off of her. Ahh, he shuddered again touching his fingers to his lips, they tingled, and he hungered for another taste.
"You. Be my woman." He wasn't usually like this, Azrail was more of the quiet solemn type but today he felt hot and she smelled and tasted great. His cock was hard, he knew he needed to cum for his head to clear but now that he had her in his sights, Azrail suddenly wanted it to be her to make him cum.
He lifted the hood from his face and watched her behind his long locks of hair, his eyes gleaming red. "My name is Azrail, you should remember your new lovers name. Are you going to be competing? That might be a problem, I wouldn't want to hurt you. But there are some things even I can't back down from. Another thing I shall go easy on for you."
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Post by Thea on Jan 28, 2024 0:17:18 GMT -5
No one outside her circle dared to touch her. Whether it was logic that had people keep their distance or instinct - it didn't matter. And for her there were fewer still that she would touch in return. Her mother mentioned one time that it was like she lived in her own little fortress, impenetrable walls built so thick and high there was no hope in ever getting inside. How it must be so lonely in there. It was Calliope's attempt to get under her skin; to this day Patience wasn't sure why because her mother never gave the impression she wanted much to do with her. Either way, Patience liked the image. She was a creature of solitude. And maybe some part of her, the fae part most likely, believed that it was an honor to be allowed past her barriers.
But this man. He shocked her. It was as if her aura did nothing to sway him away from her. A sound of surprise rushed past her mouth, followed by an indignant "Get your hands-" before his finger touched her chin...
And pain seized her body so terribly she grabbed onto her assailant for balance.
It started from the small of her back, as if lightning struck white-hot, before racing up her spine and spreading down to her arms. Her lungs stopped working, face slack. Her legs shook with the force. Her fingers felt like they were asleep, but she couldn't help that they dug into the man's clothing in hopes for more support. As if her body wasn't instinctively pressing into his already. In the back of her mind, something stirred from its slumber, uncurling and stretching languidly. She hadn't bothered to glamour herself walking in - pointed ears, one purple eye with a dragon slit for a pupil, and sky blue patches down her body with the most prominent one being on her face. But there was a shift that was happening within her. Distantly she wondered if it showed outwardly too.
And then the pain eased away like the tide going back out again as they were pried apart. Nemus was there behind her, a steady force she leaned on as the nightmarish hound pulled his lips off his gums to show the weapons for teeth he sported. Wade and Stalcus were in front of her, brandishing their own arms as the one who pulled them apart held a placating arm in front of him with the other hand gripping the stranger's shoulder.
I am no one's. She wanted to spit but knew it wasn't true. She gave her life in service to her great-uncle, King Oberon, foolish as she was in doing so. To say so would be a lie, and she didn't like to lie. So she stayed quiet as the urge to breathe fire welled within her belly. The look of sorrow had melted away when she was struck with pain. Now, as she realized what it was, anger took its place in her features. Anger and ... fear.
Her father and grandfather told of this phenomenon. This man before her was her True One. Her mate. The one that was chosen for her to bring forth the next generation of dragons. But that couldn't be. This person wasn't that. Her eyes, both now sporting the ethereal color of the Ruthless Clan, watched as he pulled back his hood and introduced himself. The utter arrogance of him! If they were with the dragons of Benchizuno she would be within her rights to cut him down where he stood. Remember your new lover's name, he said. I shall go easy on you.
"Woah-oah, my friends," the man that separated Patience and Azrail said, an easy grin on his face as if Wade wasn't about to cut Azrail to shreds. Or burn him. Or sic Stalcus on him. Patience thought his name was Garrett. He looked human, with dark tousled hair and light grey eyes. "There seems to be a misunderstanding here. Prince Wade of the Seelie, Princess Patience of the Seelie, I see you've signed up for the chance to ask from The Oracle?"
Wade, usually the happier and more friendly of the two, glanced at him before taking stock of the curious crowd that gathered around them. "Indeed. Yet there's a more important matter to attend to here. I'm sure you saw that my sister has been treated in a way that doesn't befit her station. I seek to correct that here and now."
"Oh my apologies, Your Highness," Garrett straightened up and interlocked his fingers before doing a jerky bow. "The Goblin Market has strict rules. 'Start no fight, but finish it swiftly.' If Azrail here had, say, slapped Her Highness you would have every right to kill him where he stood. However," he continued, pointing two index fingers up to the sky in front of him. "His poor, faerie dust-addled brain only saw her beauty. From afar, it looked much like a lovers' embrace."
Murmurs emanated from the crowd, some nodding in agreement. Others moved their eyes from Patience to Azrail, trying to see the connection. After all, Princess Patience has turned down and even scorned any attempts at courting.
"After registration," Garrett said after the crowd settled down. "You may walk through those tent flaps. The Goblin Market has made the gauntlet - the trial by which you must go through to have your wish granted by The Oracle, if any spectators are curious - a valuable exception to this rule."
Patience's chest heaved once in indignation, before coughing a plume of charcoal smoke out of her mouth. Wade's came through his nose, much like she's seen Kheelan. She knew that Azrail might not live to see the end of the night.
"Fine," Wade snapped, clicking his jaw closed. He slammed his hunting knife into its sheathe before turning on his heel and motioning for Nemus and Patience to walk in before he and Stalcus did.
After the four of them went inside, Garrett sighed quietly before turning to Azrail. "You've made some pretty dangerous enemies. I hope that faerie dust wears off soon for your sake."
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Post by Ventia on Jan 28, 2024 1:54:27 GMT -5
"Princess Patience of the Seelie, the name sounds familiar." Azrail said in a daze, still watching the tent half expecting to see her walking out. Coming back to him, even if to make more threats. Seconds passed before he pulled his gaze off of it to look at the man in front of him. "Garrett, it's you. Faerie dust, you say? Interesting. I owe you one." Azrail swallowed hard, his throat dry and although he still felt like his body was being consumed by a raging fire, his head was clearing just enough due to the lack of her scent so intoxicating surrounding him. Though there was still enough in the air, it didn't compare to having her as close as she had been just a few minutes ago.
He signed his name on the list and turned back to Garrett, "Does it wear off fast?"
"Unfortunately, no."
"I thought as much. I'll be going now, till next time Garrett."
"Try not to make a mess of things, Azrail." And Garrett watched as the man they called the Ghoul King walk off with feverish eyes and knew without a doubt his warnings would fall on deaf ears. Trouble. Just another day at the Goblin Market. And with that, he carried on his way, ready for the next problem to fall on his lap.
Azrail past the tent's opening and felt the wrinkle in time and space as he was teleported to his assigned room, it was so delicately done that most wouldn't feel the shift, but Azrail was extra sensitive to all around him. There was a small bed in the corner and Azrail made his way to it, feeling the lazy heat stir up from his body. Falling back on to it, Azrail stared upwards at the dark ceiling, touching his lips once more trying to bring back the tingly sensation.
He needed to fuck.
But the idea of someone other than the Seelie Princess touching him didn't sit right at the moment. That by itself should have surprised him. He hadn't cared about someone else's touch in years. In the beginning he hated when others touched him, the number of bodies left in his tracks from that alone was staggering but after a century, Azrail stopped caring about physical touch. It all felt numb to him anyway, all till now. He could still feel the pressure of her hands clutching on to him, as that shocked pain had taken hold of her for the brief moments their skins have touched.
If he couldn't have her, he didn't want another. At least not for now. So he would have to let out some steam during the fight, which served Azrail just fine. He loved the rush of battle, the scent of blood in the air, watching as his blades sliced through flesh, he loved taking a beating too, those unexpected bad twists of luck where he was on the losing side. It made victories all that much sweeter and would prove time after time how much of a monster he could become.
He laid there, fantasizing, waiting for the time to come. He tried to lessen the effect of the drug but couldn't quite find his release which he felt made his situation all the worse. He was laughing at himself, karma was doing him good today, and felt cold sweats down his back. Had he had a pulse, he was sure it would have been beating so fast he'd fear he was getting a heart attack. Lucky him that he was already dead.
When the time was drawing near, he left the bed for the washroom and washed his hands and face, rubbing cold water on his exposed neck as he stared at himself in the mirror. Even through the drug's haze, Azrail had some sense of rationality and watching himself, staring at the face he so hated, he felt his hatred rise and watched as his eyes began to gleam brighter.
He would win and speak to the Oracle. He had to. Since it would bring him one step closer to his revenge. In the next moment, he was teleported to the middle of the arena. And as the spokesman began his speech and the crowd began to cheer, Azrail lifted his gaze to look at the people around him spread out, the open area was immensely large looking more akin to a real mountain range than just an open area. Well, he supposed with how much magic that was in the air, they could very much make their own islands if they wanted to for sport.
He smiled, and felt his excitement grow. She was somewhere here, wasn't she? His Seelie Princess. It was a good time for a hunt.
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Post by Thea on Jan 28, 2024 18:34:34 GMT -5
The first words out of Wade's mouth were, "Let me see."
There was a command in his voice that she's only heard when speaking to the guards. But it was laced with a primal panic that had Patience thinking twice about lording her elder status over him. Patience laid her bow and quiver down on the first flat surface she saw before lifting the back of her tunic that peaked out over her leather armor. Her fingers brushed the raw skin there, hissing quietly as she did. Wade moved behind her, two lines forming between his eyebrows as he studied the Mark of the Ruthless Clan in all its purple glory.
"Fuck," Wade swore after a few minutes of silent rage. Then repeated the word with passion before kicking over the end table provided. "Of all the fucking days. Of all the fucking people. He's the best match for you?"
"I'm fine, by the way," Patience interrupted her brother's tirade, putting her gear back on with precise movements. "Wasn't like I was being electrocuted from the inside out."
"Are you, truly?" Wade nearly snapped. "You're pale as a ghost. After all, you did just experience one of the worst pains the dragons can feel." His words, with the right tone, would have been the right response to Patience's sarcasm. But Patience had years of practicing what she was named after. When Wade was like this, everyone got the brunt of it. Even her. "Please, please tell me I can kill him."
Patience had to roll her eyes. After stepping in here, her thoughts had been mainly on Azrail. The red-eyed man wouldn't have had any chance to get close enough to her for such an outrageous offense in Oberon's realm. And with her grandfather's clan everyone would have seen it as her right in every way to end him. Here was a tricky predicament. It was true that The Goblin Market had strict rules. What Azrail did wasn't a killable offense, and if it was any other woman that was nabbed Wade wouldn't have blinked an eye. Patience was too far to tell, but when she asked Nemus her hound confirmed what Garrett claimed. Faerie dust had made its way like an incurable infection into the Goblin Market. If they had time she and Wade needed to sniff it out and nip it in the bud.
But that was another issue, wasn't it? If Azrail was high off magical Viagra what did that say about his character? He would have obviously gotten it from a den of some sorts. A brothel maybe. Did he take it willingly? Because it was an orgy-worthy drug there were quite a few that would roofie their unsuspecting partners. Her chest tightened with the thought of him being with another, causing Nemus to whine in worry. But she couldn't inspect the sense of unfounded jealousy just yet. No, she had to deal with a raging dragon for a brother. "We have a mission to carry out," she said evenly, turning still-draconic eyes onto Wade. It was like staring into a mirror because his eyes were the same shade. "Right now, you need to calm down. Or turn that rage onto the other opponents."
"Just give me permission to kill him." Smoke billowed from his nostrils, lips pulled back into a gruesome snarl that never looked right on Wade. She was the Lady of Sorrow. He was the Lord of Laughter. Two sides of the same coin in every aspect of their lives. Today, because he perceived that something from his horde was threatened, he was inconsolable. "And then I'll calm down."
"No."
"What?"
But once they blinked, they were in the arena.
Patience had her mask back on again, eyes narrowed toward the crowd. Briefly she wondered what her dad, Trace, felt with a stadium full of people that loved him. Because this crowd was out for blood. This was more akin to the Colosseum. And she was a gladiator. "Plan?"
"No," Wade barked an echo of her refusal moments ago, whipping out the vial of Dragon Snot that had been tucked away in the pouch beside his blade until this moment. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and downed the viscous liquid with barely a swish to coat his mouth beforehand. "Just glamour invisibility over us. This is a free-for-all, is it not?"
"I could do that, but it wouldn't mask our scent," Patience countered. "What if there are shifters?"
"At this point, I don't care."
"But what if we get in each other's way? Invisibility means no one can see us, but we can't see each other or even ourselves."
"I'll take those odds."
Patience managed a growl of her own, before reaching deep within her to the well of power that held her abilities. It took longer than she would have liked, and they flickered like they were light bulbs. Yet she managed, knowing that regardless of the outcome, and despite his rage, Wade would stay in range. And so would their hounds.
She just hoped that they wouldn't happen across Azrail.
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Post by Ventia on Mar 11, 2024 23:51:48 GMT -5
There were all kinds of characters on the field, to princesses to your average murderers no doubt those with a noble course and others just for the foul sport. Azrail could practically pick them apart, watching as a man butchered into this one pair even before the starting bellow of a gong. Blood already in the air tickled his nose and Azrail slumped forward and ran towards the larger fellow, orc blood he would assume from the looks of it. Before the orc could cleave through the screaming woman, Azrail sliced his tendons in his back knees and when the orc stumbled down, Azrail slid his dagger against his throat.
He pushed the big body away and watched as the man collapsed on the ground, the life draining from his shocked eyes. He pointed his dagger at the girl, "Forfeit or you'll die today." He warned her and turned away, waiting a moment to see if she would try to kill him in that exposed moment but she stayed on the ground, tears falling from her face. The shock of losing her partner, a well bodied man, and almost dying herself must have made her rethink a thing or two. He left.
His senses were on high, instead of how cloudy his senses had felt earlier, now they were screaming as if on fire, picking up on the faintest of things. A scent here, a far-off cry there, the shift in his opponent's stance when they both charged one another, his second dagger was out now and blood splattered against his body, only half an hour in and he had already maimed and killed his fair share. He was trying to move fast around the arena, searching for his princess when something caught his eye.
He watched, crouched on top of a tree limb, as a familiar face hunted. A woman. Red hair loose as she ducked her head, biting into the neck of her latest victim. He saw red and dropped to the ground, what was one of that woman's favorites doing here? Drinking her full, he bitterly thought and caught up to her, slowing his jog to a walk at the last few moments. She watched him now, no doubt viewing him as her next prey, and he saw no recognition flashing in her red gaze.
"I do love it when they make it easy for me." She finally said and tossed the small girl to the side, wiping at her mouth and licking her fingers when she saw there was a smudge of blood still.
"I am glad to see you haven't changed a bit, Mina." He spat the words out, even now remembering just who it had been that had delivered the final blow to his mother. His sweet innocent mother. Murdered by these...demons.
"Excuse me?" She scoffed, though Azrail could tell she hadn't liked having her name said. He wondered if she had used a pseudonym to enter the tournament.
"It pleases me to know how rotten you are. How you and your sire will never change. That the likes of you deserve what you have coming."
"And pray tell, what is that." She fluffed her hair aside, smiling wide her fangs bloodied and exposed.
"Me." He said and then they tore into each other.
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Post by Thea on Mar 15, 2024 1:01:37 GMT -5
Within those thirty minutes, the competition was cut in half, whether through forfeits or deaths. Being invisible made it terribly easy for Wade to dispatch any foe they happened across; Patience couldn't see her brother, but it sure wasn't difficult to spot the bloody geyesers he made of unsuspecting necks or the way some people seemed to have spontaneously combusted. It made her stomach sour, knowing that it was Wade that was doing this. How indiscriminant he was with taking lives.
A part of her wanted to yield, even if she hadn't taken active part in the gauntlet yet. Despite her place within Oberon's court, she had no taste for death. Patience had no enemies she wished to see perish. No underlying bloodlust to quench. Just a desire to live ... and to be left alone. She thought that Wade felt the same. Yet while she knew Wade was acting from his baser, draconic, instincts ... she couldn't help but worry that something within her brother had changed.
This wasn't the first time the thought came to her. Like a rash that kept popping up no matter how many remedies she tried. It was in the way he snapped at servants. How quick he would snatch the neck of a bottle. There have been a few times where she would have to separate him and their father, even. It had been easy to chalk it up to an uptick in daily stresses. Since graduating highschool nearly a decade ago, the King was in need of his Hounds more and more often. Though tonight she couldn't blame on Oberon.
A yelp sounded on her right, startling Patience out of her thoughts and thus effectively wiping the invisibility off everyone. Heart in her throat and grip tightening on her bow, she searched for Nemus. It didn't take long to figure out what had happened; another contestant had tripped over him, sending both sprawling into the rocky dirt of the mountain range. The white beast rose to his feet slowly, then shook as any dog would.
Are you all right? Patience wanted to ask throught their bond, but she didn't have the chance as a hand gripped her shoulder hard.
"Patience, the glamour," Wade snapped, whirling her around to be face-to-face with him. His silver hunting blade, enchanted to always be sharp, dripped with the blood of those around them. His bow was stowed away on his back, arrows untouched. His eyes purple and slitted, showing just how ruthless he was being tonight. "Replace it."
"Get your hand off me," she hissed back, shrugging him off harshly before taking a step back. "And I don't care how pissed you are. The least you can say is 'please'."
Nemus's loud growl had her turing back to him. The constestant that had tripped over him was now edging toward him, scrawny with large glasses perched at the edge of his nose. His Adam's apple bobbed once, then twice. In one hand a book was open, glowing faintly with an amber sort of color. His other hand was outstretched, tracing shapes in the air toward Nemus.
Patience was quick to knock an arrow and pull the string taut on her bow. Yet before she could loose it a force slammed into her, laying her out on her back as her bow was thrown away from her. She cried out in pain, hips trying to buck off the weight of her assailant to no avail. Her mouth exploded in a wave of pain, her tongue tasting blood almost immediately. A curse slipped from her mouth, arms going up to block the next volley of punches.
As soon as she went down, her attacker was wrenched off her with a screech. Patience wasted no time in bringing her own hunting blade out as she stood, not bothering to thank Wade for rescuing her. Her bottom lip felt swollen, having been caught by her teeth. Distantly, she felt her blood dribbling down her chin. But Patience couldn't think past what that boy with the book was going to do to her hound if she didn't stop him first.
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Post by Ventia on May 1, 2024 15:59:52 GMT -5
They collided against each other; the impact harsh enough to break bones yet at most only bruised theirs. The sound of their blades scraping and hitting one another was loud in Azrail's ears, the slash of pain now and again when he was too slow to evade only urged him on. The vampire assassin in front of him seemed like a fiery whirlpool, all red and blindly quick twisting and turning stabbing and slicing at him. Fear should have claim him by now but as the seconds ticked on by, Azrail's grin became wider and crazier.
The smell of blood in the air, mostly his at this point, filled his brain, his mouth went wet and Azrail saw the precise moment when Mina lunged for him. Sacrificing a arm, Azrail barely felt it pierce through his shoulder for his joy at having her was far more potent. His eyes gleamed and sparkled as her scream now filled his ears, the taste of her flesh was foul yet so rewarding as her disgusting bitter blood filled his mouth. She tried to yank her sword out of him but he had clenched his muscles around the blade and her nails though sharp matter not as she tried to claw at his back. Then her own fangs bit into him, trying to tear at his jugular but his blood was more poison to their kind now.
He ate at her flesh and drank from her until she moved no more. When she was all limp and it wasn't an act, he let her go but not before digging her heart out. He gripped it, his hand bloodied and stared down at her dull eyes. It had ended all too fast, he thought and ate her heart. Flinging his hand of some of the blood and kneeling once more, he began to behead her next and held her head by her hair. He would mail this to the Vampire Queen, and hoped she'd appreciate it as much as Azrail did.
He wanted to burn Mina's body but didn't have a flame on him, instead he was content to stare at her headless and heartless body until it slowly began to age, young skin became old and then even that skin faded away, leaving a old husk of bones in its place. Even her head was now ghastly, but Azrail would die before he let go of the hideous thing. He was a man of his word, after all.
Content she was dead, Azrail figured he would stay here until someone came for him next. He began wiping the blood on his blade on his thigh when the air shifted again and after a few long moments, he could smell her again. Her blood called to him. Begged him to worship her. And like a addict needing another fix, Azrail began a slow walk to where her scent was strongest.
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Post by Thea on May 2, 2024 0:58:37 GMT -5
Her lip was curled up in a silent snarl, a reaction to Nemus's pained whine as the spell the gangly scholar-boy cast at him landed on its mark. Her hunting blade was raised high as she sprinted toward him, uncaring that her side was left open. Confident that her armor, enchanted, would protect her from serious harm. Even so, from the corner of her eye, she saw a beast of a man rush toward her. Stalcus intercepted the would-be assailant, gripping onto flesh mercilessly despite futile attempts to shake him off. Hefty blows met the cwn annwn's head, ribs, and neck. Howls of pain pierced the air, replacing the cacophony of the crowd for brief moments.
There was little difference between the twins' hounds. Much like Patience and Wade, Nemus and Stalcus were siblings. They both had pristine white coats on much of their body, except for red ears and eyes. They were the same in height and weight. Their loyalty to the Prince and Princess was unwavering. They knew where their place was with them. But that was the way one could tell them apart. Patience would have called Nemus to her, worried for his safety. Wade did not seem to care that Stalcus was getting beat in his attempt to dispatch the enemy. Patience couldn't look for very long. It made her heart hurt.
Instead, she slashed down at her target, mere centimeters from his flesh before he cried out, "I yield!"
Her dominant foot took one step to stabilize her, her left hand wheeling to make sure she didn't hit the ground. Patience had expected to meet resistance. A solid body to meet the force she would have used to dig into her target. A curse ripped from her lips, still swollen and bloody. She knew she hurt distantly. Yet she had more important things to attend to.
"Nemus!" she called out, sheathing her blade before approaching him. The spell Milo Junior cast sent the hound flying twenty feet. She could tell that he was least disoriented as he stood up shakily. "Are you all right?"
A whine, then, I will survive.
He would, she made sure. The terrain was rugged, with hardly any shrubbery around. As Nemus rolled, his skin caught at sharp rocks and hard-packed dirt. Flesh wounds, maybe some bruising underneath his fur. Relief flooded through the princess before balling up in her throat in a threat to make her cry. Fingers reached around one red ear to scratch fondly, then dropped to her side as she turned and watched Wade approach with her bow and a few arrows that had escaped from her quiver. Stalcus walked diligently beside him, mouth open and dripping blood from the man who intended to plow Patience down. "Here," he stated gruffly, thrusting her belongings back to her. "You're lucky it didn't break."
Patience didn't deign to give him a response as she returned the arrows with the others. Turning on her heel, she fetched her own bottle of Dragon Snot and downed the contents. She hated to use it. The ingredients to create it was hard to retrieve. The process wasn't quick, either. But she wasn't sure how many more contestants they would have to face. She'd be willing to use her fire if it meant getting out of here quicker.
That was when she saw him.
Azrail. Her True One.
At first, she wasn't sure who was walking toward them with a purpose. He was covered in so much blood that it was hard to tell. Then the closer he walked, the more details she could figure out. There was no need for Nemus to state that it was the man from before. The dust-addled being with the red eyes that touched her without her permission. That same something that woke from its slumber earlier stirred again in the back of her mind. It was curious. Intrigued. Even while Patience's stomach twisted into knots once she figured out what he was carrying.
A severed head.
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Post by Ventia on May 2, 2024 2:00:12 GMT -5
As he walked, Azrail jerked Mina’s sword free from his shoulder, the pain was dull even as it continued to slice out of him. Still, the flesh and blood he had consumed earlier did a quick job at healing him of all minor wounds, even his shoulder and neck was healing at a rapid pace, leaving him tender and raw but otherwise fine. The blood of a Master Vampire always came with some perks. Azrail wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with some special gifts Mina used to have. It was quite common for Master Vampires to be able to pass on their gifts through their own blood or after turning someone into one of them.
It was also possible to be born with gifts and his had followed him to his grave.
He took a moment to sheathe his daggers and held Mina’s sword, pure silver, comfortably in his right hand. All too well he could remember the same type of swords back at the training hall. He had always never been good enough for them. No matter how hard he had tried. Thinking back on it, Azrail was so embarrassed for how foolishly he had wanted their love. Desired it. Begged for it. Only for them to stab him in the back. Their own son.
Though his body was healing his mind was darkening, it seemed that only the scent in the air kept him sane. It might as well have been a golden thread to follow for it pulled him along, had he met any resistance along his path? Maybe. Mina’s blade had more blood on it than he remembered.
Only when he noticed her across the path did Azrail’s mind come back to the surface, yet he never stopped walking. She was surrounded by her people, her hounds, looking like the warrior princess that she was. He half expected her to draw her bow and aim an arrow at his heart, and was in awe at how much he wouldn’t mind such an act. Would he allow her his chance with the oracle? He wouldn’t harm her, her companion on the other hand, was a different story but her? Azrail wouldn’t touch a hair on her head. No there would have to be another way to win that duel.
“You are magnificent.” Azrail smiled sweetly at her, and felt that foolish desire for her love. Ah what a fool he was, though. To desire that could never be his. It seem it would always be that way.
“I won’t fight you, my princess. You, however, I believe we have a date.” He smirked at her male companion, the detest the man felt for him was easily returned by Azrail. Jealous of them to be able to stand by her side, to belong with her in the way Azrail wanted to.
He tossed the head to the side, for now out of harms way, and reached for one of his daggers with his free hand, holding both sword and dagger in front of him in a defensive pose. “I suppose I should not kill you, yes? You’re one of hers after all, can’t have my woman hating me now.”
“Come or shall I go to you?”
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Post by Thea on May 2, 2024 9:11:34 GMT -5
It was a vicious mockery, what she saw. With a sword in one hand and the head in the other, he was a horrific version of Perseus. Not a hero to be worshipped, but a monster to be feared. Patience nearly winced, as if her thought caused her pain. She knew a thing or two about being a monster. To think of him as such was hypocritical at best and unfair at the very least. She knew from her experience that looks can be deceiving.
And so can words, she thought, face showing little emotion. Patience had been called many things in her life, mostly pleasant things that would make a lesser girl blush and swoon. Things such as magnificent. She didn't return his smile but inspected it instead. Much like the rest of him and his sword, it was bloodied, showcasing fangs she didn't get a chance to see while near him. Fangs. He was a vampire.
"How noble," Patience drawled sarcastically. Or at least what she hoped was in a sarcastic tone as she went through the catalog of vampires in her mind. He wasn't the first one Oberon's Hounds had encountered or heard of. There were the vampires of the Isles, bound alongside the Fae in a treaty made forever ago. Patience met a Carpathian over two hundred years ago. And then there were the Clans, more ... common for lack of a better term than the previous two. But still, a formidable people ruled with a cruel, iron fist by the monarchs who took their thrones by force. Azrail had to be from them, surely.
"Though I do want to point out that my brother and I come as a package deal."
"What?" Wade asked with a growl. Patience knew that her brother was chomping at the bit. Since Azrail accosted Patience before the gauntlet, the image of the man dead was the only thing keeping him going tonight. Patience forbade him from killing Azrail, but a fight with him was just as well. A fight initiated by him? Even better. Wade could say he was only defending himself as he dealt the final blow. His bow was raised, even, with an arrow knocked and ready to hit his mark.
"Yes, if you intend to fight my brother then you will have to fight me as well. And you said you wouldn't." She forced a bloodied pout, a small one albeit. She wasn't one to use her womanly charms, but she wasn't above it when it came to her princess duties. Azrail didn't seem to be under the influence of faerie dust anymore. But what she could gather, he seemed to be enthralled by her. Only her. That didn't follow the pattern of faerie dust, where he would be willing to fuck Wade, not fight him. He'd be willing to fuck anything at this moment.
She was confused by Azrail, simply put. If they weren't locked in a stalemate with each other, she would have loved to ask what made him so unique. Instead, her mind hashed out a plan. It was quick and full of perceived errors. Time was not on her side, however. Wade seemed about to explode, and Azrail was an unknown variable. Patience was now in the hot seat, prepared to diffuse a bomb she didn't know the first thing about. There was only a matter of time - minutes possibly, maybe seconds - before it went off. "I propose a deal, instead. My brother as our witness. I want your chance to speak to the Oracle. Help us get to the end of the gauntlet, and I will grant you a boon. You must forfeit after every other contestant is out, of course," she added as an afterthought, leaving no visible loopholes she could think of. "What say you?"
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