Hebe Ano Vasilikis
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The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Jan 21, 2010 11:17:53 GMT -5
"I'm not ever giving up this power," he said passionately. "It's just too much fun to give away." She smiles and tilts her head. He would. He had to, else the Revelation would never happen. There had to be Five, not Four and a Lesser. She is One, and Two will come, then Three, then Four, then Five. Then the Keys will turn the Locks and everything will be changed. She isn't quite sure how, but it's necessary, it has to, because Aether wills it and you can't just knock the universe. "Just how long have you been alive?" She blinks and looks him right in the eyes. It's a little startling; has he ever looked her straight on? How long has she....? Huh? She's thrown. "How long? I- I'm. I." So long. Forever and a day. She doesn't like this conversation, suddenly. They never taught her time, it's not her fault! "They never told me! It's not my fault! There was sky and sun and summer turned to fall, that was all I needed, it's not my fault I never learned!" She leans on the table, looks him dead on; he has to understand this. "I didn't know! How was I supposed to know I couldn't turn it off? It was supposed to make everything better, the Robed Man said so, he served the temple, he wasn't supposed to lie to me! I didn't know it would make everything worse. I didn't know it would make them throw me in the dark!"The Dark Place. Gods, she hated the Dark Place. "Not a speck, not a glimmer, cave dark. Blackest black forever and ever, amen. The man from Rome came to try me. Little girl wrapped in chains and swords and he was so old, did he think I would lunge for his gavel? It wasn't my fault, he didn't have to erase me!" She's up and pacing now, her feet eat carpet and the fibers burn, hands flying. They erased her, erased her. "No daughter existed, no maid served, no trial, no record for fear of repeat, for crimes too unbearable to be known. They didn't have to throw me in the dark just because I wouldn't die!"Evil men. So long in the dark, starving, she had to eat them. She served them so faithfully, she loved him, they left her in the dark with them because she wouldn't die no matter how hard they tried. "I prayed! Hera never- I was a good girl, every night I gave thanks and she left- Hades wouldn't- I begged to the Dark God and he left me too!" She whirls and slams her hands on the table. "Then light. Men moved the stone and fell to their knees at the sight of me: Goddess! Goddess! Holy One! I saw the sun and it burned and there was a Britannia! The Celts, they were never so strong to stop the Roman king, but they did, stopped him who threw me in a pit." She's panting and sits, chest heaving, she's tired. "New years. The Celtic King took the Roman's lands, mine too, and there was Britannia and began history again from when the crown touched his head. And they were strong for years and years and years before I saw light. I don't..."She looks at him and it doesn't make sense. "I don't know. I wore sandals and had brown hair. My masters took me to see the Olympics. They were wonderful." She blinks; they don't exist anymore. "Britannia got rid of them while I was in the dark. No more. They were wonderful..." She's never hungry anymore, learned to live without it after eating her masters. But... "Can I have something to eat, please?"Imperial Calendar of Britannia in Relation to World History (Plz ignore the fact that the calendar was made in the 1800's. I didn't know that when I made Hebe.)
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 21, 2010 13:13:40 GMT -5
Gauron was just about to tell Hebe to forget he ever asked when she launched herself into the tale. Almost as surprising as her answer was the fact that he understood the meaning. Mostly.
While she spoke, he put the facts together as well as he could. She had received her Geass from some sort of holy man. Whoever Hebe's Code Bearer had been, he had not told her the truth about the power and she had suffered some sort of imprisonment because of the gift. Gauron supposed it wasn't an uncommon fate for Immortals. It wasn't until she said "I prayed! Hera never- I was a good girl, every night I gave thanks and she left- Hades wouldn't- I begged to the Dark God and he left me too!" that he understood the answer as fully as he likely ever would.
Mana had once called Gauron ancient, but now he knew the truth. Compared to Hebe, he was still young. A child. An infant. His near-century of life as something more than human was a tiny drop in the proverbial bucket. Hebe continued. "Then light. Men moved the stone and fell to their knees at the sight of me: Goddess! Goddess! Holy One! I saw the sun and it burned and there was a Britannia! The Celts, they were never so strong to stop the Roman king, but they did, stopped him who threw me in a pit. New years. The Celtic King took the Roman's lands, mine too, and there was Britannia and began history again from when the crown touched his head. And they were strong for years and years and years before I saw light. I don't... I don't know. I wore sandals and had brown hair. My masters took me to see the Olympics. They were wonderful. Britannia got rid of them while I was in the dark. No more. They were wonderful..."
She was breathing heavily and looking at him. He vaguely recalled hearing about the Olympics a long time ago, back when he had been in an elementary school in Britannia. It was a different time and a truly different life. That had been in the days before he had become a killer, so long ago to his mind. "Can I have something to eat, please?"
The sudden change of subject threw him off for a moment. He motioned towards the kitchen with a jerk of his head. "Help yourself," he said, distracted by all the information swirling in his head. In the refrigerator, she would find nothing but highly-caffeinated sodas. The cupboards were laden with nonperishable, single serving microwave meals.
Gauron sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. When had he leaned forward? He had no idea. Hebe's story had captivated him. The things she had seen and done... they were innumerable. He wanted to know more. He wanted to have those experiences for his own. More so now than ever, he was sure that being immortal was a gift that he would never give away willingly. Someday, he would live up to the title of ancient in a way that few - if any aside from Hebe - had. Until then, he would fight, kill, and learn. After all, learning was what young ones did best.
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
Moderator
[M:6123]
The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
Posts: 205
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Jan 22, 2010 16:09:51 GMT -5
Head jerk, "Help yourself." She stands and drifts kitchen-ward. Bland bland bland. She's tired again; it's been a long coupe days. Creating a contract, standing in a war-zone, meeting Brother, the Pretty-Insane one, remembering- she's tired and her head hurts.
The fridge is empty. Cans. Sodas, a single glass bottle of alcohol. The ice-box has several boxes promising frozen dinners for low calories. She take a chicken-and-potato-and-cheese and dutifully follows the instructions for microwaveable goodness. There is no bottle opener so she cracks off the beer cap on the lip of the counter. It's sweet and burns it's way down her throat. She drags the meal back to the sitting room and places it on the wood of the table, poking the meat around in the plastic container.
He is captivated, energized. He thrives from her ranting. She looks at the bubbles in the glass. She is tired; if he wants to ask, she'll probably answer. She glances up through the white fringe of her lashes.
"Young baby. How many years have you?"
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 22, 2010 17:15:47 GMT -5
Gauron's mouth opened on instinct. He was about to give his customary answer of "about 30" when he stopped himself. That was the answer he gave to his employers. For the time being, he would give Hebe as much of the truth as he could. "136 years. I think." When one lived as a traveling mercenary, keeping track of the passing years was of little concern.
She hadn't asked for more than his age, but he had to at least try to reciprocate; nothing was free, after all, and she had told him quite a tale. "My Code Bearer was this old bastard back in Afghanistan named Majid." The country no longer existed. It had been swallowed up by the Russians, and later by Britannia. "I still remember the way my hands felt around his neck after he gave me his Code." He flexed his hands, relishing the memory.
Just how long had it been, really? He tried to remember back to when he had been German. All he got were vague recollections of what may or may not have happened in his childhood. And then there had been the move. His parents had been happy about that, hadn't they? Something about new opportunities in a new home. Gauron shrugged and said "all that's really clear from before is burning down the house the night I left." It was as if he were being forced to view all of the memories from before that night through a haze, like watching television through a thin piece of cloth. There was motion and shapes, but nothing was clear.
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
Moderator
[M:6123]
The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
Posts: 205
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Jan 22, 2010 17:46:17 GMT -5
She nods. Fuzzy memories aren't singular to the mortal distinction. The years bleed together like ink on paper dropped in the drink. She takes a sip and plays her tongue through the liquid.
"Majid. We crossed paths. He thought me young and inconsiderate and asked me for loyalty. I stabbed him in the eye." She arranges the glass so it teeters on an edge and holds her hands to catch it and push it back in place. "He annoyed me." She pulls her hand back and lets the bottle fall.
"I remember Afghanistan. They had beautiful jewelry." The bottle is still intact. "They got mad at me for not covering up." She toys with the food again. The space where her stomach was tingles. She used to pray before meals, thank Artemis for providing a bountiful feast. Who do you thank for chemicals from a factory? "No ever stays more than a few centuries."
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 22, 2010 20:02:46 GMT -5
"Majid. We crossed paths. He thought me young and inconsiderate and asked me for loyalty. I stabbed him in the eye. He annoyed me." The bottle that she had been drinking from fell to the ground with a dull thump. A stain on the carpet was the last thing on Gauron's mind right now, though. He threw his head back and laughed.
"So you were the reason he wore that eye patch," he said, amused. Gauron had always thought it foolish of the old man to wear it when all that was under it was a perfectly good eyeball. Gauron had commented on it once. Majid's only response was to shoot in his general direction and say that it was to remind him. He never said what it was that he wanted to be reminded of. And now Gauron knew.
"I remember Afghanistan. They had beautiful jewelry. They got mad at me for not covering up. No ever stays more than a few centuries." She was poking at the food in front of her with a strange look on her face.
Gauron, for his part, had no opinion when it came to the vanished country's trinkets or backwards ways of thinking. The government had paid him good money to fight the Russians. And then the Russians had made a better offer. That was neither here nor there at present, though. "I'm going to," he stated. The humor that had been in his voice was gone, replaced with cold determination. "This power is mine. I'm not turning it over to anyone. Not Mana. Not the one after her, or the one after that. I'll live until the end of time."
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
Moderator
[M:6123]
The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
Posts: 205
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Feb 5, 2010 1:04:34 GMT -5
The cheese. It is melty and gooey. The chicken sinks in it waving white flags of surrender. "I'm going to." She blinks and looks up. He was hard, eyes were hard and firm in a stone resolution. "This power is mine. I'm not turning it over to anyone. Not Mana. Not the one after her, or the one after that. I'll live until the end of time." Oh. She goes back to contemplating the impending rescue in her dish.
"Of course you will. That's nice, dear," she says humoringly. The meat is losing the battle and the cheese is overconfident; the potatoes will fall next. They always say they will stay forever, live in the paradise that is immortality. "But the cake is a lie," she mumbles. "Contingency plans in place, the ones who shouldn't don't and the chain gains another link."
Aether wants, and a selfish desire for forever won't stop a wheel thats been turning before wheels were invented. The Legacy will find it's Host, and human - well, post-human - will is weak in comparison. A mouse against a mountain.
She likes this, a little. Family time sharing. Ask her another one.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Feb 6, 2010 1:08:21 GMT -5
"Of course you will. That's nice, dear." There was humor in her voice. Different from Gauron's humor; she was mocking him. "But the cake is a lie. Contingency plans in place, the ones who shouldn't don't and the chain gains another link."
Whatever the hell that means,"[/color] Gauron thought as he stood from the table, scowling. He made his way into the kitchen and took a soda from the fridge. It made a satisfying hiss when he broke the seal. The carbonated drink tingled its way down his throat and soothed his temper. "Do not assume, dear sister," he said, walking back to his chair. "That just because I'm young means I'm predictable. What is it that makes you and I so different?" He left a second question stay hidden within the confines of his mind. What gives you the right to think you're better than me?[/i]
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
Moderator
[M:6123]
The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
Posts: 205
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Feb 6, 2010 3:06:27 GMT -5
He hisses through soda pop-pop substitution and gravels displeasure. "Do not assume, dear sister, that just because I'm young means I'm predictable. What is it that makes you and I so different?" He looks at her and she stares back and an echo of eternity hums and she thinks he thinks she thinks she's better. She doesn't. She knows.
She cocks her head and opens her mouth. Closes it. You can't explain God to a non-believer. She closes her eyes and thinks. What was it, that feeling when she didn't understand what was telling her to go and be. The inner vibration, the laughter, the echo. Echo-echo-echo. "Yes."
She gets up and rounds the table separating them, pushes his arms out of the way and sits in his lap. Takes his hands and presses one to her throat as her Code flares to life. Takes his other hand and presses it to his own Code, her grazing fingers making it flare too.
Aether. It. The. She closes her eyes and blocks out the visible, sees the Non. "Close them." They are in the dark and-
-then they aren't, it's the white world the bright world the world of contracts and space and time which melds and bends. They are holding hands and standing and sitting and lying down but they are looking up and the white world is the bright world is the World, the Planet in the Sky. She smiles at him and points up and a ripple of rhythmic humming and laughter and singing and screaming echos echos echos into them through them and their Codes vibrate in tune and the Codes that are under the surface of their skins that's more then a wing-shaped mark vibrates in tune-
-and she opens her eyes and kisses him on the brow. "That is what makes us different. I am sister. That was Mother." She gets up and returns to her seat. The cheese has won the battle and the potatoes had fallen under. "Only ever five. But it has to be the right five. Wander the world to find them, one by one, Code passed down and growing. When the Five are found-", she claps her hands together. "Change. Revelations. Mommy will remake. The locks must be turned. She needs her keys. It needs us."
She smiles and places a hand to her chest, holding the other in front of her with a single finger raised. "One."
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Feb 6, 2010 4:01:03 GMT -5
"Yes." It was a deceptively simple answer. Gauron didn't know what to make of it. It could have meant anything. It could be that she was somehow "chosen" to live for eternity - assuming that there was something to make such choices. Then again, it could mean that there was no deeper truth to the matter. That Hebe was Hebe and he was Gauron and no matter what he did, he would never attain his goals simply because of who he was. Such a reason was unacceptable.
Gauron's frown deepened when Hebe stood from the table and walked around to his side. She sat in his lap, touching her throat. The sigil there lit up, casting shimmering magenta light in his face. Then her other hand made its way to the top of his right arm where his own lay hidden under his sleeve. It too started glowing brightly, the light managing to shine through the white, starched fabric.
"Close them." Gauron was sure that he wouldn't like whatever came next, but followed the order. The moment his eyelids came together, they were transported to the place outside of reality. As he had expected, he disliked it. The place, wherever - or whatever - it was, was entirely too bright.
The pair were in every conceivable posture - sitting, standing, laying - all at once, and none at the same time. It was disorienting. She smiled at him and pointed upwards, towards some kind of strange ripples. Sounds and emotions tore through him like wind through a chain link fence and his Code tingled. He found that his free hand was, of its own accord, reaching up towards the ripples, grasping for them. They seemed almost close enough to touch when the connection suddenly ended.
His eyes shot open and searched the room, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of what couldn't be found within the apartment. Hebe's lips pressed against his forehead and then pulled away. "That is what makes us different. I am sister. That was Mother." Gauron watched as she returned to her seat, eyes begging for more. More answers, more time in the Other Realm, more anything. He tried to brush the thought aside. He couldn't afford to become dependent on... whatever that was. "Only ever five. But it has to be the right five. Wander the world to find them, one by one, Code passed down and growing. When the Five are found," Hebe clapped her hands against each other, a confusing gesture, but just one of many puzzling elements today. "Change. Revelations. Mommy will remake. The locks must be turned. She needs her keys. It needs us.
"One," she said, a hand pressed to her chest, indicating that Hebe herself was the first of her supposed Five.
Gauron finally broke his gaze away from her, not wanting Hebe to see the conflict in his eyes. He was supposed to be absolutely confident, unshakable. Unbreakable. His hand, which had remained physically in the "real" world and gripping the bottle of soda, shook a little. Without realizing, he started slowly squeezing. The plastic caved under the pressure and the beverage within came bubbling out and over the top, spilling down over his clenching hand. He chose his next words carefully. They were embarrassing and would reveal far more about his state of mind than he cared for, but had to be said. "How... how do I gain 'Mother's' favor?" It was a distasteful display of weakness, if not ignorance, on his part. Nevertheless, he wanted to know, needed to know, if it was possible.
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
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[M:6123]
The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Feb 15, 2010 23:03:11 GMT -5
She watches him and he crushes the bottle, fizzy drink, frothing over the lip and staining the table a bubbly brown. She looks and sees him shatter and reform and shatter again. They all can go to the white world, but that's all it is; going. To go is not to stay or to be or to see. She can't say for sure what he sees. She is herself, that's all she's ever been. She was elevated to soon to experience what her brethren do when they leave their bodies behind for the oblivion of the non-coporial. But he saw what she did, what she always does; the thriving, gripping power of something that will never ever die, It can't, to die means to be born first and It had to be born first and It was always there, Being before the thought of existence was ever entertained.
She wonders sometimes if seeing the Universe in its full and utter glory is why the way she is the way she is. There was a drama many years in the past: men went to the edge of the universe and saw nothing in the black and it drove them mad. Is she mad? People tell her she is, so perhaps it's true. But is it because of herself, her circumstance, or what she's been thrust into? She knows everything, because all there is to know is there for the viewing in a place where the future and the present and the past exist at the same time.
"How... how do I gain 'Mother's' favor?" And baby brother is here, asking for the salvation that comes from knowing Aether in It's fullness, and being privilege to It's Grand Design, the Ineffable Plan. She opens her mouth to tell him that he can't: there are five perfect humans, non of whom live at the same time, who are the Keys to the Aether's Locks, whose entire being is stitched together for the sole purpose of being an eventual harbinger of the Apocalypse. But then she remembers. The Keys have to be shaped. The perfect vessels aren't perfect until that right moment, that those perfect, select humans might have been passed over years ago while Code Bearers, ignorant of their missions, wandered on opposite sides of the planet, or refused to pass along the Code. Each Code is singular, an individual, and it will only lock into place for the right vessel: a human perfect for one Code will be just another Bearer for another. She thinks they might be elemental, water for water, fire for fire, and all that, but she is unsure.
If he were a Final Incarnation, he would be one right now. But maybe he still needs to be shaped? He's in the right place in the wrong space. It goes against the rules, but she hates to think she's crushing a sibling who's just seen the edge of the universe with his sanity intact.
So she lean forward and kisses him over the table, lips light on his, and says, "Just pray. Aether is All. It listens to It's children."
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Feb 21, 2010 19:51:57 GMT -5
"Just pray. Aether is All. It listens to It's children," Hebe said, leaning across the table to the point that their lips were touching.
She expects me to pray? She may as well ask the planets to stop turning while she's at it, he thought disdainfully. He stood from the table and made his way to a window where he stared out at the city. As he observed the once-destroyed metropolis, an idea came to him.
"Tch. That's fine then," he said, turning towards Hebe. His face was contorted into his characteristically unpleasant grin. "That's wonderful, actually. I'll just offer up sacrifices. Dozens, hundreds, thousands if I have to. Every man, woman, and child that I kill will be dedicated to satisfying 'Mother'!" Gauron laughed. It felt strange to be, for want of a better term, working for something other than himself. "She'll come to appreciate me eventually."
And if she doesn't, then I'll just destroy her plans from the ground up, he thought maliciously when he turned back to the window. He imagined the city engulfed in flames and stricken with war. In his mind's eye, the streets were littered with corpses and debris and smoke tarnished the otherwise clear sky. He felt a shiver of anticipation fun up his spine - just as it had roughly 100 years ago when he had stood in a different apartment within the first Tokyo Settlement.
War was coming.
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
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The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Apr 1, 2010 1:28:19 GMT -5
"Tch. That's fine then." She looked up. What? He grins and it is unpleasant as he always is and deep in her belly a twinge starts. "That's wonderful, actually. I'll just offer up sacrifices. Dozens, hundreds, thousands if I have to. Every man, woman, and child that I kill will be dedicated to satisfying 'Mother'!" He laughs and she wonders how he made the leap from prayer to sacrifice. She cares not at all for mortal men - they are the muck in the dirt and just as distasteful - but genocide for a higher power is ridiculous. Perhaps it's telling that she who instigated many of the wars in the past on a whim disapproves of this plan. "She'll come to appreciate me eventually." And again, a twinge. He says such a thing like a boy chasing a girl to gain her affections, chasing her until exhaustion and surrenders to stop the torment.
Lies. He's laughing at the glory of justifiable chaos and it's irritating. Or not. She's in a hangover state, exhausted from giving a power to someone so unworthy and again from having her mind thrown back to the years when she was in the dark. It's irritating.
"Do as you wish. But know this, dear foolish little brother," she says, looked at him from beneath the white flutter of her eyelashes. "'Mother' is not a woman. Thus 'she' is not a filly to be swayed by grand gestures. It is the thing that is behind every breath you take, every move you make. It watches you and either approves or sets oppositions in motion to make it so that It will approve."
She looks at him and under her skin, she feels a static, akin to rubbing socked feet against the carpet or sticking a licked finger into an electrical socket. She feels prickly and whatever Aether thinks about her trepidation to his plan, or his intentions themselves, It isn't telling. "Tread carefully. Aether isn't a God that stands idly by watching. A fall from It's grace is hard and agonizing, even to those who think there is nothing left to regret." She pauses. "...especially if you think you have nothing left to regret."
'Hold on to yourself, my dear foolish little brother. Else you find yourself forced to pass on your Code sooner then you've planned. She reached for the remains of a drink on the table that may have been Mana's and sips deeply.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Apr 4, 2010 1:16:58 GMT -5
"Do as you wish. But know this, dear foolish little brother," she said. The warning tone in her voice was unmistakable. Gauron turned away from the window and looked at Hebe. The smile was dead, replaced by a scowl. "'Mother' is not a woman. Thus 'she' is not a filly to be swayed by grand gestures. It is the thing that is behind every breath you take, every move you make. It watches you and either approves or sets oppositions in motion to make it so that It will approve.
"Tread carefully. Aether isn't a God that stands idly by watching. A fall from It's grace is hard and agonizing, even to those who think there is nothing left to regret... especially if you think you have nothing left to regret." So she didn’t like his plan. No great surprise. Even still, he clenched his fists at his sides.
He made a snap decision. He spun bodily away from the window and reached into his suit jacket. With a well-practiced motion, his hand settled on the grip of his pistol and drew the weapon out of its holster. The gun was pointed right at Hebe’s forehead. Gauron’s face was twisted into a look of hate. He started to squeeze the trigger.
But the shot never came. With a feral shout, he threw the gun. It hurtled across the room and smashed through the screen of the television in the living room. Gauron kept his eyes on Hebe and slammed his fist down on the table. “Damn you and your precious rules.” It was a lie. He didn’t shoot because they, while both immortal, were not the same. Hebe knew so much more than he did. Gauron had no intention of being on the receiving end of that knowledge ever again.
Gauron looked Hebe straight in the eyes. “I will be one of the Five. With or without your help.” If Gauron had ever believed anything, he believed that. “I got along well enough without support before I was immortal. And now, there’s no reason for me to need it at all.” Having had a moment to compose himself, Gauron stood. “Of course, assistance can have its upsides… so are you going to help me or not?” It hurt his pride and left a bad taste in his mouth to be asking for her help, but there were times when even pride had to be sacrificed.
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Hebe Ano Vasilikis
Moderator
[M:6123]
The existance of life is over-rated and must be rectified immediately.
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Post by Hebe Ano Vasilikis on Apr 19, 2010 17:09:58 GMT -5
Distaste, Disgust, Displeasure. He hears her words as they fall from her mouth like stones and hates them, wishes to grab them and throw them back at her hard enough to shatter shatter. Pitter patter on the ground in shiny pieces of glass and gore. He looks at her reflection hard and even as he twists, hands grabbing for his firearm firestick firepower, she sits still, impassive. Throughout everything life and its aftermath has thrown at her, this is one thing she knows how to do with etiquette and grace. Death is a fleeting thing and she barely remembers the short transitions to the in-between place she goes when she is unlucky- or lucky. Sometimes pretending death is permanent is a great and dearest aide- enough to fall prey to fang or claw or gun. Except for sometimes. Like when she is drunk on the results of using a power she really isn't supposed to and Aether, while so very fond of her, is displeased enough to neglect to cushion her descent and waits to pull her back up.
There is fire and red and black and a voice so very cruel, even to her ears, laughing.
Like she said, she doesn't remember except for sometimes.
And she stares him down and the shot never comes, instead the gun goes flying through the television. The glass sprays and perhaps it is a small consolation to throwing the stones of her voice at her head. “Damn you and your precious rules.” Perhaps not. She cocks her head to the side and twines a curl about her fingers. It's his turn to stare her down.
"I will be one of the Five. With or without your help.” True or not, he believes it. Belief is always more deadly than the most logical man. “I got along well enough without support before I was immortal. And now, there’s no reason for me to need it at all.” He's leading up to something. “Of course, assistance can have its upsides… so are you going to help me or not?”
She blinks and for the second time in an hour, this man has thrown her. How choice, how rare. Her dearest and most darling siblings never ask of her for anything. Almost, anyway. Cadian is fond of her, the first one in forever. The others avoid her like sin or sainthood and if they ever cross her path, they bow polite and scurry. If they need aid, it is requested quick quick lickity split, good bye, so very wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. He wants of her for immortal immortality. To be a Five, a Final Incarnation. He cannot, but who is she to be Metatron to Aether's Iehovah? She looks at him and as the distaste grows on his expression, so does the thread of intrigue in her belly, the one right beside the earlier twinge. It may not be what Aether wants, but It isn't telling.
She smiles at him grandly and in a sharper light, her Glasgow Grin would shame the Black Dahlia. "Thus so, thrust so. I ache, infant. Point my way in the scheme of life so that I may quench." Her smile impossibly stretches wider. "How may this generous elder sister serve thee thusly?"
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