[M] Closer

POSTED: Tue Jan 08, 2019 5:42 am

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

(412)

Set directly after this

Victory was sweetness. So much sweetness. Her fingers trembled as she strode through snow, emerging from the forests like a ghostly visitor, the red cloak pulled close to her frame and her head bowed. The fission of logic and desire was abrupt. Sense told her she should wait for her secondary plan, when seething lust did not rage through all the parts of her. The taste of blood in her mouth remained a coppery kiss that refused to abate.

She wanted to see his face as she unveiled the surprise. Wanted to witness as the devotion twisted deeper, stronger. She ached to behold such things more than she desired her next breath, even as said breath billowed in thick streams into the dark, frosty air.

She followed, where his trail led. Her ears twitched, catching the faint sounds of voice raised in song. As she closed in and wound her way to a path where they Eyes might watch. Her demeanor changed, Helena began to list and stagger as though truly intoxicated.

He bobbed and weaved along the outer-skirts of lesser used homes. Ones who lay empty in her knowledge. She did have to laugh though, for the song he so gamely butchered was the same bawdy bar song she had recited to great mirth at the Wedding. It was firmly in french and he could not have destroyed it worse if he had deliberately tried.

Her peal of laughter rung forwards, followed by her staggering form. If Eyes watched, all they saw was a drunken Master and Servant, enjoying the hilarity of Saturnalia together.

She made sure to trip, in her final approach, and stumbled so that she had to catch herself on his arms. Breathless delight wrapped with labored breathing,

"André, you are... so very not good at speaking French." Her voice echoed oddly loud in the silent coldness.

For all the act, the heady scents still swirled about her, tripping over one another. The blaze of her eyes were a beacon in the night, now she whispered so that only he might hear,

"I 'ave zomething for you. A gift..." She knew where his mind would wander, and let it go there. He was free to make assumptions, though they may not be so far off.

"Come, come with me now." Her arm wrapped through his, she leaned against him as if she might need the help to stay upright. North, they would go north, until they left Salsolan territory. It would be a long stroll.

Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Tue Jan 08, 2019 5:55 pm

Here it is crecent
Like a dagger from your heart into mine

Through ankle deep snow, Andrew staggered about in a listless haze. A half empty bottle of sweet blackberry wine sloshed about in his careless grip. The gathering had been a raucous affair, and for a single night, much was afforded for a humble servant. He drank among them -- not in secret, but in full witness of the congregation. How easily he forgot himself then. How far he was from the last Magister of Inferni. A new creature; reborn and Salsolan to his core.

They weren't so bad, he told himself. After everything, it was still in Andrew's nature to want to belong. And yet, for the first time in an eternity, he did. Even when Helena departed the celebration to leave Andrew to his own devices, he was without fear.

He sang a song from memory as he cut an ambling path though the village. The one from the wedding. Slurred foreign words slipped clumsily out of his mouth. Gibberish, really. His grasp on the language was tenuous at best, though there were certain things, phrases, he could now discern.

She found him then and fell into his arms. Andrew stopped singing. "'Lenaaaaa," he slurred, holding her tight against his chest before raising the bottle to his lips to take another swig of blackberry wine. "I am a -- I'm good singer."

He could smell lust upon her, so when she spoke of a gift, Andrew's intoxicated mind did wander exactly where she expected. He nodded eagerly and let her lead him north beyond the territory's bounds and into the ruined city of Amherst where she no doubt had something fun in store.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Arbiter
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Tue Jan 08, 2019 9:21 pm

(1513)

ooc

The further from the Watchers they ventured, more did her demeanor change yet again. Still she leaned up against him, her fingers clenched against his arm, a possessive touch. They left a dual trail of footprints that the softly falling snow would cover as the night deepened. By morning's light, there would be nothing at all to speak of their passing.

For lesser mortals, the night might have been too dark, full of terrors and terrible things. She was the flame that guarded against the gloom. Lady of the Light, and the yellow and red fire that flickered bravely, holding the shadows at bay. Even the monsters feared an evil greater than themselves.

~

A black and white horse forded through knee-high drifts, his startling rider wrapped within her luxuriant cloak. A letter tucked away in her pocket alongside the apparently innocuous vial. They were waiting for her, by a old ranch house above which a grand old oak sprawled its grasping branches. Skeletal, they allowed the weak sun to reach through their gape. Clouds gathered off in the horizon and she knew by tonight there would be more snow. This suited her.

The three of them awaited her arrival. Two stood tall and confident, one, a wretched female shuddered on her knees in the cold snow. A bloodied bruise distorted one side of her face, across her eye. Helena was forcibly reminded. Her fingers trailing across his beaten face, probing at teeth and gums in apparent interest. Dull.. his eyes had been far too dull.

They were just as coarse, and terrible, as she remembered them to be. She resisted the urge to wrinkled her muzzle in distaste. Labyrinthine memories twisted and turned, seething.

~

The house was settled in the outskirts. It was not the same one that resided towards the center, where the low-lives and scum existed. This one appeared well cared for, though had clearly seen better days in the past. A proud oak tree demonstrated its largess with a wide grip. In the spring, it dappled the sunshine that shone down. The ranch-house was dark, excepting for a single candle that flickered in the frosted window.

With a snake-like movement, Helena stole his bottle from him and took a heft swallow for herself, relishing its taste. It was her favorite. She smiled, a terribly lovely thing that playfully promised retribution should he attempted to reclaim her wine, and finally released her grip of him, stepping to place her hand upon the doorknob.

~

The girl was not so broken as Andrew had been. She cowered in fear when Horace spoke in his grating, irritating voice. Slovenly mannerisms further soured her opinions; Not that they would matter for much longer. She invited them in, out of the snow and cold. The young girl was dragged in by the silent one who's name she barely bothered to remember. She looked younger than Stelmaria, barely old enough to be considered adult if her thin body was an indication to go by.

The Dragoness invited them for wine, knowing their eager, slack-jawed peasantry would prompt them to wish to sup at the taste of prominence and royalty. She generously filled their cups whilst the young girl trembled on the floor. Horace thought she might wish to purchase this one also, since she had forked over what they assumed was a bad trade for the /broken male/. How wrong they were in their assessments. She had no intention to ever be played by the simpleton likes of them. Helena would have gladly payed a greater price.

They drank of her wine gladly, sipping down her lies and pleasantries until a poison-filled vial came out to play.

It was a slow, seductive thing that encouraged slumber. Coupled with wine, the silent one would never again awaken. Glasses spilled from lax hands, to shatter and leech their purple contents onto her floor.

She quailed in utter terror as Helena stood, approaching her calmly. She crouched, just as she had done to her Servant, and took hold of her downturned face, forcing her to meet Helena's unmoved expression.

"What is being your name."

Her mouth worked, a strangled squeak. Helena shook her and lightly tapped at the side of her face,

"Your name?"

"E..Emily." Emily's voice was hoarse from screaming, quivering with each breath.

"Emily." Helena's voice twisted it into something foreign sounding. The girl nodded jerkily, tears pooling in her eyes and sunk damp tracks into the fur of her cheeks.

"You 'ave done me a favor 'ere today, Emily. For zhis, I thank you. Two lives you 'ave given me, I am giving you your own in return, Oui?" One of the unconscious men made a small noise, and Helena's head snapped to it sharply, watching for long seconds to be sure he would not wake up.

She rose, pulling Emily up to stand along with her. Helena's fingers worked slowly, almost tenderly untying the collar and leash from about her neck. The french-woman guided the still trembling girl to the door and opened it,

"You are being free. Flee, and never return to zhis 'ouse. Leave zhis place, find yourself an 'appy ending." Helena doubted the girl would attain such a thing, the weak would always be prayed upon by the strong. Long moments Emily stared at Helena, almost uncomprehending and then suddenly, the girl took off running. Sprinting away from the farm-house as fast as her legs would carry her.

The door snapped shut. Helena turned to the men that slumped in their chairs, dead to the world. Now.. now her fun would begin. Sadism was a personal thing for her, she did not idly torture those with no cause, there were always /reasons/.

The knife was drawn from her cloak, flashing in bleak light streaming through the broken window. Both of them would know agony.

Blood splattered, staining over the spilled, poisoned wine.

~

Eagerness suffused through her being, she led him into the quaint house. Luxuriously decorated in a manner similar to her Tower. Suffering wept from its walls, the heavy scent of fear, and tart, coppery blood lingering in the nose. Both had sunk into the fabric of the house, enough to establish that time had passed here, stretching out like a comfortable cat.

Victories, they clamored atop one another. Each fighting for the place of First. A muffled thump echoed from the other room as Helena turned to Andrew, her hands sliding against his cheeks briefly, that spark of satisfaction burning brightly,

"I did promise you, zhat I would keep you safe. Now, you are 'aving no reason to fear again..." She left him there for only instants, to gather up her gifts. One was easily clenched within her hand, the other she hauled from the floor. Helena shoved the male through the doorway before her, and kicked out at his injured leg viciously.

Horace cried out, or rather, he tried to. His scream was muffled by the ropes that wound his muzzle shut, that dug in cruelly. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor between she and Andrew, unable to catch himself with arms bound behind his back. The sharp crack as his head hit the wooden boards was like music to her.

The Dragoness took slow steps forwards, the captive slaver cringed away from her. Shaking with the same panic that Emily once had. Helena had put the Fear of God into the wretched pustule and she was the Deity he dreaded. It showed in the whites of his eyes, how even broken on the floor he tried to inch away from her.

She calmly removed her cloak and set it aside, beneath it her red tunic matched the drying blood.

From a thousand shallow cuts he had bled. From the crunch of broken bones she had snapped just to hear him scream. He was bloody and bruised, beaten and savaged. Helena had tortured him until he had begged for mercy, for the release of death. Helena was too selfish to allow him such clemency. She rather thought someone else would enjoy that particular blessing.

The seething, burning passion was alive within her now. She held out to Andrew something else, pressing it into his hands. A tail - so meticulously separated from its owner. Tim had, unfortunately, died during his own torment. She had made sure it was a painful, suffering, drawn out death. Helena reminded herself of the callous way Horace had laughed and poked at open wounds.

Here was her gift, laid out and shivering on the floor. It did not escape her notice that Andrew woke rattled from dreams with the black dog's name on his lips. That he fretted over their reappearance. She had promised him safety, and here she delivered on that promise. She had removed a terror in the night for him, Horace and Tim would sell no more innocent men into slavery.

"For you, mon chéri. What would you do with zhis thing?" Her hand reached out, to gesture to the entirety of him, Horace flinched visibly. Her eyes gleamed bright, pupils huge against their colorful backing. From the folds of her cloak, Helena produced a knife, it gleamed oh so innocently in the candlelight as she held it out.

Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Wed Jan 09, 2019 5:51 pm

Here it is crecent
Like a dagger from your heart into mine

He was led far north through the sobering cold and snow. The bottle, having been plucked from his hand as they stood on the threshold of her hideaway in Amherst, no longer weighed him down. However, he reached for it then for Helena to only pull it away just out of reach. He stepped true, wobbling no longer as he passed through the door.

Candles burned in the windows. In the dim, flickering light, Andrew could see the fine furnishings Helena surrounded herself with. Much like the tower, it was a place of opulence with walls lined with tapestries of fine, expensive fabric. Yet, the décor was not what caught Andrew's cautious attention. It was the coppery, metallic scent of blood that filled the house that left him feeling unnerved. Yet, Helena still insisted that she had something to show.

Safe.

She withdrew, pulling warm hands away from his cheeks before disappearing into the back room. Andrew heard the distant sounds of struggle; a muffled cry. Helena's absence the previous day was immediately explained. When he saw his once captor, Andrew instinctively recoiled with fear. Though Horace was powerless, forced down to the floor before the slave he sold, Andrew remembered the horrors of his captivity.

The pain. The constant fear. It remained so vivid. So clear. Tides turned, but the scars remained.

He dared not look away from the fearful slaver, though he felt Helena press something into the palm of his hand. He looked down. A tail -- dismembered. Andrew assumed it belonged to the wolfdog who'd shot him in the leg. Andrew's hands shook. Justice, vengeance, how they blurred so easily together.

"The knife," he muttered, reaching out to grab the hilt of the blade she offered. In the candlelight, the silver gleamed with a hungry, keening shine. Andrew stepped toward the slaver and grabbed a fistful of greasy black hair and wrenched his head up roughly. He wanted to look him in the eyes when he died -- to be the last thing he saw.

"Sit up and beg," Andrew commanded, exactly as the slaver had commanded him months ago. It was a sick pleasure to hold the knife to his throat. One that was entirely too real. "Give me a reason not to kill you." The scent of blood was thick upon the slaver's pelt, and on his chest Andrew could see the chaos star carved meticulously into the flesh of his chest. Helena had taken her sweet time.

"Speak," the servant bid as he cut the gag away.

Horace gasped for breath. Fear burned in his eyes. "I know -- I know where your wife is," the slaver wheezed. A lie. "Vicira, right? Yeah." He looked to Andrew in frantic earnest. "You kill this bitch and I'll take you right to her. I swear. I fucking swear."

Andrew's grip tightened 'round the knife.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Arbiter
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Thu Jan 10, 2019 1:17 am

(586)

Note: Links and their words not included in word count.

She watched with a Merchant's gaze. As if this were all just a discussion over the prices of grain and livestock. Andrew withdrew, and she saw the fear behind his green gaze. Marveling at the anger this stirred in her own soul. A selfish beast cradling her precious belonging. Someone else had hurt him, when that was the power only she should claim. She satisfied herself with a death already tasted, with screams in the darkness and the steady drip drip drip of shed blood.

Freed of their Gift, her hands were again possessive upon his skin and then she grasped at the air with delighted eagerness. The knife was taken so gently from her and turned upon their captive. A grand observer, Helena stepped closer too, to keep the panic high. Every rise and fall of his ragged chest she savoured. If allowed to survive, Horace would carry the scars and disabilities from his maiming. Truthfully she had thought to keep him, to present him to The Boss as a donation, as a ironic and horrifying twist of his fate.

Ultimately, she decided that Andrew would much likely appreciate this particular offering from her. Wasn't she so generous.

The wretch thought... he honestly thought he could offer anything worth more than what she had already given. A wife likely long dead, if he had even ever known her location. What was Vicira in comparison to herself? A memory, whereas she was flesh and blood and safety.

Helena laughed.

It was an insidiously cruel thing, flowing from between pretty lips. Horace's eyes shifted to herself for a moment, dancing between the two assailants. Andrew's fingers tightened on the knife she had given him.

There was nothing... nothing that she had to fear. Helena knew the truth, it simmered so succulent and strong in the air. It was the words she heard, the adoring gaze, the reverent touch, breathing away his pain and suffering,

"You will always 'ave me, atteindre de étoiles."

"Really, Helena, I owe you a great debt."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"My life is with you. With Salsola."

"What wife?"

"If you are wanting... You stay with me 'ere, Red."

"Vous êtes ... inestimable. Pourquoi je ne sais pas.."

"Oh wow, Oh wow, oh wow."

"You're a God, I'm not worthy."

“How may I serve you?”

"Far away."

"I 'ave zomething for you. A gift..."

"I did promise you, zhat I would keep you safe."

Helena had stood between him and his terrible torments, she had provided poppy to dull its ferocity. Had promised and promised and delivered again and again and again. She had shielded him from everyone it was within her power to do so, including her own mates where possible.

Her laughter ceased abruptly, and she was motion. Stomping her foot down hard on the leg that was splintered and broken, Helena leaned her weight onto it. He did scream this time, loud and hoarsely without the ties about his muzzle,

"Stupide!" She barked with a savage bite, it tripped from her tongue as easily as the poison spilled from her fingers, "You sold me a zlave. I bought back my friend."

Helena looked at the claws on her paw, as though they might be more interesting that the shuddering male before her,

"You 'urt 'im grievously..." Her fingers flexed, Mine. "...I 'ave returned zhe favor." She spoke with the conviction of the wronged, with just rewards lingering upon her tongue,

"Unfortunately..." She drew out every word, slowly, painstakingly, turning up the fear by leaps and bounds, "... your suffering is not being equal to 'Is own. Outsider." It was spoken as an insult, disdain and disgust prevalent in each syllable.

"Zhere ees not enough pain zhat I could inflict to be evening out zhose scales, zho I would 'ave been glad to try to do so." Helena finally turned and stepped away, reaching for the bottle of wine, taking delicate swallows until it was all gone. She tossed the bottle, and it skittered across the floor, rolling to a stop before the empty fireplace.

Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Thu Jan 10, 2019 6:15 pm

Here it is crecent
Like a dagger from your heart into mine

Andrew's hands shook with hesitation with knife held unsteady against the slaver's exposed throat. Against the cool touch of silver, Horace winced and held his breath with the single, burning hope that his lie would take root and blossom in the his captor's wounded heart. For a moment -- it almost did, but vengeance consumed him with an insatiable hunger. Andrew held justice in his hand; he need only the strength to enact it.

A laugh pierced the silence, and Helena strode forward. A splintered leg cracked and a strangled cry filled the room. The slaver wept.

In a sea of lies, Andrew would believe only Helena. She spoke, so arrogant and true. Andrew believed every word that passed her lips, hanging on to ever syllable as she chastised the slaver with a rare, but fiery intensity. In her, he found his strength. His judgment, resolute.

Andrew wrenched the slaver's head back by his dark, greasy hair until their eyes met. "Liar," Andrew whispered. The sentence was passed. Death. He briefly pulled the knife away from the slaver's throat, only to bury the blade to the hilt in Horace's neck. Panicked eyes opened wide and a wet, gurgling noise poured from the slaver's throat. Andrew stabbed again. Andrew stabbed again. Deeper. This time, twisting the knife before letting the body fall limp on the floor.

Blood pooled about.

The knife clattered to the floor and Andrew's hands continued to shake.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Arbiter
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Thu Jan 10, 2019 9:29 pm

371 ooc
To find them a fortune, chests filled with gold

She did not even grant him the honor of watching the light slither from his eyes. Her attention was focused solely upon Andrew, the lines of tension straining hard on his face. Raging green fire hiding in the depths;

And there, right there, she saw... something.

The whispering condemnation, oh, how the fine hairs on the nape of her neck prickled. The Hand of Eris burned in her skin, the phantom pain sharp as the day Calla had embedded it into her flesh.

She imagined, the possibilities growing great as they burst to life. The eruption of crimson sprayed, the splatter of it hit her fur, her tunic. Red on red. Drops fell from her fingertips.

The dying man lost her interest fully. The knife's clang brought reality back into focus.

She shook the blood from her hand with a sharp motion and reached out to him. His fingers trembled in her grasp. Her own, strong and sure, warm, clenched tighter.

Soothing the shiver, Helena moved closer. Absently, she shifted the corpse with her foot. It slumped away. She had no care of the sticking wetness beneath her feet, giving her paw-prints of rusted rose.

"André" She murmured, in that soft, warm tone. Comforting. Drawing him closer, ever closer. Always closer.

What was a pet to its Mistress? How would a pet call so much destruction forwards? It would not, it could not. He was more than a pet, more than a plaything. Beneath her skin, obsession scorched away at her insides.

For him, she had viciously, violently, tortured two men till they had begged for their deaths. It was still not enough. Even as his body lay cooling, and the other, fed to the crows. She wanted to continue crucifying them. For daring.

Securely, her arms enclosed, wrapping about him. Soothing, gentle words slipping from her lips.

"Zhis is justice." She spoke, none of the bite that had so snapped at the slaver,

"Zhey can never be 'urting you, or anybody else, again." Slowly, she stroked his hair, moving the long raven-wing locks. The bird-flutter of his heart she felt so keenly in his pulse.

She breathed, a slow, steady exhale,

"I will keep you safe." The weight behind those words was a heavy, palatable ringing bell; With the dead-man laying at their feet.

I can't help this awful energy
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Thu Jan 17, 2019 11:14 pm

Here it is crecent
Like a dagger from your heart into mine

Warm, sticky blood dripped from Andrew's trembling fingers. He stared down, the realization of what he'd done sank in after a long, sober moment. He was no murderer. He killed not in cold blood -- but this, this was an execution. Unable to dwell on it long, Andrew felt Helena's fingers interlace with his. He stilled, trembling no longer.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Only air. A breath. A sigh of relief. A weight had been lifted off his back, a heavy burden he'd carried since his capture. He'd carry it no longer. He was free.

She drew him close, pulling him into her comforting embrace. She held him as a mother holds a child, and Andrew wept freely into her shoulder. Yet, the tears were not of agony or regret. They were tears of relief, of joy. No longer could the specter of the black dog do him harm. No longer would Andrew see his ugly face in his all too vivid dreams or feel the phantom twist of an arrow in his leg that often jarred him awake.

This was justice. The law upheld.

The slaver could never hurt him again, nor anyone else. Andrew thought then of the lives he'd saved with a quick plunge of Helena's knife. A net good. The world was a safer place. A better place. "Th-- Thank you," he muttered tearfully into Helena's neck. She could have given him no greater gift.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Arbiter
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Fri Jan 25, 2019 7:38 pm

(364)

Note: ooc

Maybe this was the first time he had ever taken a life, with how the tremors struck him. Then in this they were opposites. Every life had a price, had its worth. The scum at their feet were barely worth the effort to spill their blood. Her own soared above the clouds, illuminated by sunlight. Where did his own linger, she wondered.

He could make no words for her, not at first. His whispers of air wove themselves in amongst her own poissant sentences. Ravenspeak amidst the thunder. She shushed those first broken attempts, and feasted upon his grateful sobbing. It had been a long, long time since Helena had cried over anything, deceptive, crocodile tears notwithstanding.

Andrew clung to her, another shackle chaining him tightly with her influence. Another lock clicked closed forever. Awareness prickled her skin, endlessly attentive to how his hands clenched at her clothing.

He couldn't leave her, not now; not ever.

Each laden breath passed her lips, heavy with the taste of the wine she had drunk. Blood tainted the air and she breathed it in, copper and wine, beer and laughter. There was no laughter here now, however. Only the quiet sounds of his weeping, her gentle words and the twisting, writhing in her stomach.

"Non.." She muttered softly, "You zhank yourself. You are freed from your own shackles." Helena had gathered together all these tremulous threads and tied them oh so prettily into a beautiful bow for him, he had wielded the knife of Justice.

Her fingers were moving again, cupping his cheeks and with utmost care extracting Andrew so that she could peer into his watery eyes. How her own flickered in the candle-lit gloom. She chose the words carefully,

"We are zhe Law. I 'ave tried to right zhe wrong..." Her graceful head turned away, looking towards the broken window before the gaze closed and strain filtered into the lines of her face, tugging down her lips to a frown,

"Zhere ees no Justice in zhis world, not unless we are making it ourselves." Her eyes opened a sliver, just enough to show their colors and the dark pupil to watch beneath black lashes. His fists still bunched in her tunic.

Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Inquisitor
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Sat Feb 09, 2019 9:40 pm

Here it is crecent
Like a dagger from your heart into mine

No more. No more. It was his silent mantra, echoing in the darkest corners of the servant's mind. As relief rolled over the weeping Andrew, justifications for murder, nay, execution, creeped into the void. The world, it was a better place now -- rid of two dangerous, malignant tumors. How easy it was to cut the cancer away with the slip of a knife, to correct the wrongs of a cruel universe. It felt... astounding.

She drew him in, deeper into her embrace. Andrew, still overcome with this outpouring of pent up emotion, was putty in her hands. He was to be moved as she saw fit. A pawn, and she, the queen.

"We are zhe law."

Her voice rang in his ears, for it was no mere statement. It was a purpose. A holy edict from the powers that be, that he, a lowly servant and lowborn Infernian filth, could shed his skin and become a new creature. One that could invoke the power of the law and have meaning. One that could sow seeds of change and right the wrongs of the world, or at least the wrongs Helena needed righting.

He said nothing, but his silence was profound. In once empty eyes, hope trembled behind the tears.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
The Arbiter
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci Creatore Mate to Narcissa I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

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