[M] Blue Factory Flame

POSTED: Tue Jan 22, 2019 6:32 pm

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.


They ain't proud colors
But they're true colors of my home

The ashes of the past remained. A burned out husk of a home Andrew had called his own sat in ruin. It was hard to lay eyes upon the colossal wreck; this echo of the D'Neville Mansion that felt hardly real, even as it stood barren before him. Fire blackened struts were the ribs of a long dead beast, reaching into the sky unburdened by an absent roof. A shell, the brick and stone that did not burn away in the fires that raged, stood in stark reminder of what had once been.

He was haunted by ghosts.

The smell of fire. Shouting. Fear. The emotions came flooding back as he brushed his hand against the exposed stone of the far wall of his old room. Or rather, the place his room had been, for the interior walls no longer stood. Here, his children had played. Here, he fell in love. It felt so empty now. A tear rolled down his cheek. His hands were streaked with ashes of the dead.

He'd asked to see it, knowing how hard it would be. Helena, being a good master, allowed him the liberty for their route from the Court to Salsola took them straight through old Inferni territory. They would make camp here in the ample shelter that was provided in the village that Salsola didn't burn. Yet, Andrew lingered. Even as the sun set, casting long, skeletal shadows about the wreckage, Andrew could not tear himself away.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
Indentured Servant
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Fri Jan 25, 2019 11:10 pm

360 Dated Jan 26th
To find them a fortune, chests filled with gold

She should have denied his request. It would have been kinder in the long term. The ruins of a dead nation helped nobody. She had been unable to refuse when he had posed the question. Helena had watched Inferni burn from a distance, the conflagration had lit up the forest for miles. She had helped destroy his once-home and yet she was not sorry for it, she was far too selfish for such regret.

It was a strange, disagreeable pain that itched in her chest as she watched him grieve; At complete odds with the deep, seething desire that had roused within her. The insidiousness of it had grown over the last two days, writhing stronger without consent. In spite of winter's bite, she was hot and restless. Nature's call was irresistible, a terrible longing consumed reticence. Not when she could remember, remember so much and want so fiercely. The events of days ago played in stero, she heard her own voice begging to the heavens.

She was disinclined to oppose her own hungers in the best of situations, when estrus sang it gathered into impossibility.

In his absence, she drank, and ruminated upon their situation. Tomorrow they would arrive back into Salsola's grace, and already she pulled away from him. Hiding away the parts of her that could not stand to the exposing light of the Thistle Kingdom. She would return to her mates and children and he to his Servitude.

When dimness began to shroud the ruins, she went to find him.

In spite of the deepening darkness, his redness lit up under the fading sunset glow in the same way her hair gleamed in the firelight.

She stepped through snow covered ashes, the remnants of the inferior. Salsola had ended the war with a simple sweep of their mighty arm. To spare more valuable lives from the cost of war.

Her fingers tracked across his ribs, sliding underneath the warm clothing and folded about his midriff. Helena pressed against his back, laying her head at the arch of his shoulder,

"You should be coming back." She murmured, breathing in the scent of his tears. Control, she held onto by fractions, by the smallest of measurements.

I can't help this awful energy
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Quartermaster
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero Mate to Calla and Till
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Wed Jan 30, 2019 3:00 pm

They ain't proud colors
But they're true colors of my home

He had blinded himself from the truth for so long, refusing to see. This -- this horrible ruin and all the pain it wrought, it was their reckoning. Punishment for transgressions he'd once believed in with infallible conviction. Once fought for, tooth and nail, lest he give his dying breath for a leader's hubris and pride. He saw it now, the broken cinders of the mansion -- the final flare of inferni snuffed out by the cold. He saw it for what it was.

Justice.

It was a painful thing to admit. Yet, it was almost cathartic to cast the blame to where it truly lay. Vesper. She had broken law. A pact. The moment she attacked an innocent child in rage, she tore the treaty of salt asunder and made a faithful ally a powerful enemy. How unfortunate it was for the innocents, to be caught on the wrong side. And yet, the ashes of his mistakes smeared his hands. Misfortune fell upon the deserving.

Fire purged impurity. He stood absolved.

He felt her touch play against his chest, breaking his somber reflection. She wrapped her arms around him like a softy safety blanket. He turned his head, leaning into his master's face with misty eyes. "They were right --" he muttered, still painful to admit. "They were right to burn it."

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
Indentured Servant
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Wed Jan 30, 2019 10:59 pm

404 Dated Jan 26th
To find them a fortune, chests filled with gold

She was caught, as she always was, between conflicting desires. They frothed vivaciously, rolling about inside of her and each vied for dominance. A tangle of eels that lost themselves among each other until she grew uncertain of where one ended and another began. It was a dangerous game that she played at, sorting through all these bits and pieces that were left strewn about the floor. The left-overs of a spoiled child.

Too much had been brought into the harsh, bright light. Too much had changed in the midst of neutrality.

He had survived the razing of Inferni, and the terrible, deserved events that had followed after. Criminality in such a way could never be allowed to flower. Nipped in place before it could ever blossom. Inferni had learned, to their absolute destruction, that Salsola was never to be taken lightly or challenged in such a way.

This did not mean he would be forbidden from lamenting the calamities, there was a lesson here. She wanted him to learn it by himself, thus she allowed his lonesome wandering.

He turned, pressing his misery against her stead-fast certainty.

"Yes"

She spoke quietly, with absolute belief. Any pieces of doubt left behind within her had been washed away soundly the moment she had set her eyes upon him in his chains. The gods only punished those who had asked for it. She selected words carefully,

"We did not ask for zhis, but it was brought to us, irregardless." There was always another to blame, those scapegoats would dilute such culpability.

"Innocent lives were stolen because of... one." As if she would read the thoughts lingering behind his eyes, she twisted about them, contorting, distorting. She sighed, a sad, pained thing. Those burned children had always been doomed, she saw. They were the impetuous to a misfortune greater than themselves.

She had come, in an attempt to avert catastrophe, though they had both resigned such a thing to futile dreams. Had she been the only one to try?

She could not create a sadness for the lives burned and broken here, not when their own had stolen from her own self. Four little souls cast away into the darkness. It was clear she still thought of them, even after all this time, those little fragments of herself so carelessly poached by the one he had called a son.

A parent never did cease grieving for a lost child. From ashes, new life could still be created however.

I can't help this awful energy
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Quartermaster
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero Mate to Calla and Till
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Thu Jan 31, 2019 4:49 pm

They ain't proud colors
But they're true colors of my home

How strange it was to finally say the words -- to unshackle himself from the burdensome past. He was free. An Infernian no longer, Andrew shed his skin and was made new in Salsola's image. Perception, memories, they warped so easily under the whispers of a skillful tongue.

Helena, surely she reveled in her victory. To claim the soul of another with an open palm, to bend them against their very nature, it was a difficult task indeed. Yet, she'd done the impossible. Something the slavers never could. She cast seeds along the rocks and weeds of her servant's wounded heart and they blossomed into strong, healthy flowers of green and gold. She nurtured his loyalties until they were absolute.

He wished to see it no longer. The memory would be cast aside, forgotten. Yet, there were things about the war that Andrew could not let himself forget, and Helena was sure to remind him. Her unborn children -- the ones she'd lost at the hands of his own beloved son -- were innocent casualties to an unjust war. Their blood, and their mother's loss, was on Inferni's delinquent hands. Andrew bore the weight of guilt on his back.

He breathed in. The scent of heat had fallen upon her. "It'll be dark soon," Andrew observed, casting his gaze upward at the darkening sky. He took her hand in his and let the fingers intertwine. "We can make camp at the school house." The village, while fairly distant, still stood.

In the distance, lightning arced through dark clouds.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
Indentured Servant
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Sun Feb 10, 2019 2:27 am

404 Dated Jan 26th
To find them a fortune, chests filled with gold

It was soured, somehow, this victory of hers. Soured by the ashes that still coated the ground, beneath the fallen snow. Lingering in the quiet spaces where nature had not yet reached. Not for the first time, she wondered of the what-ifs, and the might-heave-beens. If a different path had been trodden. What might have happened then. In spite of herself, Helena frowned, a deep, troubled expression.

In the distances, nestled against mountains, thunder rumbled. She felt its uneasy current in her chest. There could have been more to speak, more words to twist and warp. They would have been unnecessary.

She, too, had a memory of this place. They did not particularly swim with pleasantness. Only those certain ones. They pulled the downwards slant from black lips. If she had been less adept at lying, then she might have seen how truly dangerous he was to herself and cast him away then and there; Freed him of a debt and sent him into the neutral lands alone. It was not the first of many mistakes, and it would not be the last.

Andrew grasped for her hand. She let her fingers curl into his, let him lead her towards a place that would give shelter from the coming rains. Her mind tick, tick, ticked away behind ember eyes - endlessly churning.

Dust and emptiness greeted them, the scent of disuse, abandonment, a stale quality to the air. She remembered, and this brought a smile to her face, she stepped amid the invisible shards of pottery and ignored as they pricked her feet. She was untouchable upon her pedestal.

The beat of her heart sped against the drums of silken ears. He perused the contents of this destitute place in a thoughtful way, and she watched him, turning her head, canting it to the side, just so.

I can't help this awful energy
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Quartermaster
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero Mate to Calla and Till
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

POSTED: Wed Feb 13, 2019 8:23 pm

They ain't proud colors
But they're true colors of my home

Fingers intertwined, Andrew led his master through familiar territory without a word. There was nothing more to say, for he wished to dwell on the destruction of Inferni no longer -- to thrust it from his mind until it was gone like the family that slipped from his fingertips. The one she stole from him. Vicira. How he'd been compelled to run after her, to chase her into the void. Something in his heart burned in the place where love once made its home.

Contempt.

Large swathes of land separated the ruins of the mansion from the western village. The skies opened up and rain started to fall before they crossed the threshold of schoolhouse.

It was exactly how he remembered it, yet so different. Everything had changed but the structure itself. The gardens outside were barren and covered with a layer of frost, and the nearby animal pen held no livestock. But most jarring of all was the lack of familial scent. It felt so empty. So devoid of life.

He guided her inside to get out of the rain and went through the first door on the right. It was a room he keenly remembered. There by the broken window was the bed of furs on which his wife had slept. They no longer bore her scent. And there, just a few paces over, was where Boone and Merari came into the world. While Helena drifted through the room, examining the broken bits of Andrew's once beloved, he was awash in a rough sea of memory.

And there, by the wall, was a modest thing carved from pine. A crib he'd built with his own two hands for his young. He strode toward it with slow, tentative steps. Fingertips brushed over the age worn wood.

A rough inscription read: With boundless love, Dad.

OOC text here!
We are what we are. Get in the goddamn car.
Salsola
Indentured Servant
User avatar
Ryan
Luperci I HAVE A BIG HEAD AND LITTLE ARMS

POSTED: Sat Feb 16, 2019 10:43 pm

000 Dated Jan 26th
To find them a fortune, chests filled with gold

It might be empty, but heaviness hung here in shrouds. She could taste it in the air, the chilled breath billowed from her nares like smoke. Her connections, other than those she held close, had long ago oxidized and crumbled to powdered rust. Blown away by the savage winds of who she was. There was no room within her for regret, she never did look back.

He stared at a crib carved from wood. A fabric garbed bassinet danced behind her eyes, it had never held those lives it had been intended for.

Helena had taken all her possessions when she had departed, there had been nothing of her left behind within Inferni. Only a father she hated and sisters who were better off dead. These broken pieces of a life he once had were useless, and at worst they would actively fracture all she had been working toward.

Dust swirled at her feel, claws tapping against the aged wood. Her fingers enfolded his own, drawing them away from the crude engraved words. They should mean nothing now, they were dust and ashes.

They were inferior, and by now they were likely dead or run far away as their traitorous mother.

"Eet does you no well to be dwelling, mon cherie." She strode a tightrope here as always, she was open to his emotions, understanding of his loss. Or so he might think. There was a fine line to balance between comforting and callousness.

She led him from this room filled with ghosts. Her magnificent presence was stronger than any spirits that lingered here, the force of her drove them away. The righteous strength of Salsola's gods, their toxic poison were her sweeping hand.

I can't help this awful energy
Helena Troy Lykoi

Salsola
The Quartermaster
User avatar
Jace
Luperci Conserje, Cocinero Mate to Calla and Till
♚· Reine de la Saleté ·♚

Sticks and Stones