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Post by anderson on Sept 29, 2009 19:59:25 GMT -5
"Is that so?" A familiar and cryptic voice murmured that of Anderson's as it echoed throughout this temple despite how open it may seem, a response most likely on the doctor's part. It was as if he had a conversation with someone, yet there was not a single sound of a response that should be expected were one in a conversation.
Upon taking a closer inspection, the doctor seems to be donning a black suit as his hand is bandaged. The same one which was bit by a certain nefarious cretin. Nonetheless, it is doing well thanks to the regenerative gel and a little bit of plastic surgery to make sure that a scar wouldn't detract from its appearance. Despite how small that it is. His black suit is complimented by a lab-coat donned over it, a burgundy colored tie and this time, he is wearing a pair of expensive looking loafers.
The misery of others benefit him, where as poor people suffer, he flourishes. It was the way the world ran, despite the Emperor Lelouch's efforts in trying to focus the world's efforts into rebuilding such a society.
"You had everyone fooled, your highness." Anderson paused for a brief moment. "Especially given how splendid your performance was. It had everyone focusing such hatred towards you... the enemy of the world. An enemy turned friend turned enemy. A grand strategist with everything laid across the table just for him to fully utilize."
Hints were abound now, it was clear he was speaking to the dead within this Gaelic/Roman temple originally dedicated to destroying the individuality of every living being in this planet, but now... it sports a newer purpose, a newer leadership, and a newer power at hand. Suffice to say, corruption has been quelled now that the Emperor Alastair took power and with the coming of the new generation royalty, all childish beckoning for the throne has been erased completely.
As of the late, the Emperor, his Emperor has been missing for a while now. It should be because of preparation for the wedding, but contacts with him was at an all time low that it began to worry the doctor. Normally not a superstitious man, but deep inside a gut feeling tells him that a terrible misfortune will befall everyone. Namely those whom he places his loyalty to, which is to say himself and the Emperor.
"Must be nostalgic now that we are going through the same turbulent era of war... wouldn't you so agree, prince Schneizel?" All of this directed to the cascading pillars constantly revolving with myriads of 'bodies' interlocked together, forever rising to what appears to be the planet Jupiter as the mystery and secrets of the after-life remains out of the reaches of even Anderson himself.
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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 Sept 30, 2009 22:57:58 GMT -5
The night was sweetness. A lushness of whispering willows and screaming silence. Hebe smiled beatifically and stretched her arms high above her head, fingers splayed delicately in a ballerina's wish, back arched and toes pointed. There was a siren's song tonight, this night, a night that sung. She stepped lightly into an arabesque, and spun so her leg was now in front and arched up. The Aether was singing. She could hear it, resonating in her bones. It was delighted in its home, wriggling a dance she could see when she closed her eyes. She wriggled with it, squirming into a haphazard spin. She wanted to to move, to wanted to move. The last time the veins beneath her skin writhed like this was one hundred years ago - a heartbeat, a breath, a blink ago - when the Boy King, the Demon King, the King of Nothing wrought his terror upon the countryside and the country and the planet. She only regretted he was not hers. Oh, if he had been hers and not that melancholy mess's. If he had been hers, he would have been so lovely. He would have strewn the blood of his enemies farther and destroyed everything. The world could have burned, it could have been a charred wasteland in the night where orange flames danced like waggling fingers and screams of the desolate and desperate rang in the air like chimes of crystal bells. Ooh, it could have been glorious. But no. No, nonononoNO. The grey witch had taken him, had stole a prize of greed and vanity and ambition worthy of the Aether. She closed her eyes and spun faster, ran, took off down the halls and corridors and streets. It was inconsequential where, so long as the building inside her kept building and gave her a release as it hummed in time with her blood greater than any sexual climax. She laughed as her world behind her eyelids expanded; she could see everything, anything, and in the distance she felt her brethren twitch in time with her. Oh, la. The Aether was calling, calling her, calling Cadian, calling the legacies of the Lifeblood. Five in all. Never more, never less. She giggled. Yes, never less. The Demented King who fathered her stolen glory had taken V.V.'s code, his calling, his legacy, and had been ripped to shreds as her failed one turned the game against him. He had had the small one's legacy, and died. But the Legacy. It never died. It never slept, it never stopped. It went on and on as the nights were long. It had found a new vessel, a new Key for it's Lock. The Aether would never Stop, would always Be, would always keep itself snug as a snake in its den until it was Time. Only then would the Five Scattered Children, the Legacies, come together and open. Her laughter crackled and torn through her like a lightning bolt, wild and feral. What a marvelous Coming it would be. But until then, wait. The Wait. The wait as the Five Legacies continued on their paths until they found the perfect vessels, the ones who embodied the individual Code. She shivered at the thought. She had never wanted to share herself, to give up the void that sparked within. The non-chosen festered with their Codes, rotted away, until they gave it to the next one in the chain. She thrived on it. The grey witch, the thief, had lasted so long. She could have been, would have been, may have been. They would never know, centuries gone and buried beneath a rose bush. She had been there, had watched the green chit charm a boy out of his life. She was always watching. Knowledge was power and she knew everything. The Aether loved her so. Hark, Through Yonder Window Breaks. A voice on the horizon, a murmur, a whisper, a hush. Someone was peeking behind the curtain. Hebe whooped and took off running, leaping over anything that would hinder her. The Door. The Stairs. The Platform. The Abyss. A light man with a dark purpose stood upon the golden stone. He was momentary, a flee, a fly, a goldfish in a bowl. He mattered as much as the next meatbag did, which was not at all. He was in her way. She threw back her head and laughed, eyes too wide and lips too stretched. Way, way, whatever you say, get out of my way. The edge of the platform dropped away into a shining sunset and she threw her arms wide to catch its embrace. She inhaled deeply, head thrown back as her Code flared to life on her throat. She Laughed again and bowed a ballerina's dip, one leg folded under her, the other pointed straight out and she bent over them, belly to her knees and fingers artfully arranged by her toes.She lifted her head and grinned a grin of the damned, of the lost of the ones who knew Hell and relished in its burn. She cocked her head at the embodiment, dragging her tongue crudely across her teeth. "Hello, departed one, discarded one. I give my greetings to the void."
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Post by anderson on Oct 2, 2009 8:22:08 GMT -5
It seems Schneizel keeps telling Anderson just what to expect, still using his strategic ingenuity as a forewarning and a word of advice as to not to repeat the events that has transpired in the past. What has taken place now as Philip explains to the dead Prince will perhaps repeat the history of the past. The present mirroring the past in many a ways due to the given similarities of the two. He doesn't seem to be light hearted as he was, rather, entirely grim. Warning Philip to take caution against those who follow the footsteps of Lelouch, who oddly enough isn't present amongst the dead, at least not in the doctor's view.
The cryptic words of the Prince wasn't the only ones he has heard, he heard it from many others. Cornelia was one who spoke out in a loud smashing of words reminiscent to that of her infamous barking that she gives out when ordering. The same one now used to tell the Doctor to beware of the Black Knights, for they were underestimated at first, and now Britannians repeat the mistake of seeing them lowly.
In fact, all of the dead joined in a disheveled grunts of warnings, a mass hysteria that's more of a bizarre chorus all with the same message repeated throughout their warnings. "Beware of those who don the mask and follow Zero, for they are Britannia's undoing." A message consistent throughout the entire time despite the numerous individuals who speak of it, royalty that is.
Of course, it is not the present people's mistake that they have to suffer for the people of the past, for this time period will be quite different, as Philip notes. None that has happened in the past but the formation of organizations and factions similar as a century ago would be the same as the time now. Now, there is a new meaning of warfare, and given the lucrative business of such a conduction of war, he is quite faithful that Britannia should be like the Roman Empire, learn from their mistakes and fix all wrong doings that has been done. Namely take over the territories that belonged to it a long time ago, crush all rebels with an iron fist... and this time, perhaps Anderson's ungodly and inhumane experiments will be incorporated into the army as a standard for all to follow.
Nonetheless, it astounded him that the people of the past were very much alike as the people of the present, as Philip fancies himself to be quite similar to Schneizel in terms of intelligence, although not a strategical mind, and to Clovis... due to his enthusiasm for extravagance of sorts.
His rapt attention to the cascade of the dead spiraling to what appears to be Jupiter is broken by the appearance of Hebe. That girl, the Immortal. Eyes shooting to face her as he caught sight of a phenomenon that should be now associated by Immortals by now.
His frame shifts directions to point towards hers, bandaged hand gripping itself as a cryptic reminder and experience not to toy around with Hebe. The one despised by the Doctor for now. Suffice to say, she was rather... disturbingly happy. Usually gleeful, but this marks a different occasion, as nothing was called for to be happy. Perhaps the reason was her insanity that she seems to dwell on? Neigh, he can tell something else.
He recognizes the code that which excuses her from the march of time emblazoned on her neck was glistening richly, supernaturally. He found it quite intriguing for studies, as seldom does he ever run across a condition such as this, and seldom did he learn from it. At a glance, it'd seem to be quite similar to neon, but were one to look closer, underneath the skin is where the glisten takes place.
Schneizel was out of his attention now, as he no longer had an interest in dabbling with the past, specifically that in which concerned the dead Prince. The dead warrior prince. It more had to concern Hebe, as he had no idea as to how or what has come to turn her into an Immortal quite ironically despite the times they have spent together. Those eight long years that she was in his company.
That thought trance was to be lost off track, Hebe has been doing the demented dance quite similar to what Philip believes to be ballerina's of Italy would do. Quite bendy so to say, but eerily enough it was composed out of her utter insanity in which that it grants her grace to a being such as she, such as a 'black' swan that ravishes in its madness, different, individualistic from others. Not exactly in the norm as others.
"Hello, departed one, discarded one. I give my greetings to the void."
The doctor frowned, grimacing at the sight of her madness. It was disheartening to look at her this happy... despite the grimness of the dead in which it should be the standard of this place. Perking up one side of his lip to form a fake smirk, one clearly seen by the muscles twitching as he boldly puts up an unfazed display to Hebe. Having waited for a time as opportune as this, coughing slightly at the one comment of him being the discarded one which has a negative connotion to it as he believes.
"Ah, Hebe. It's quite splendid you are here... and in that morbid condition of yours, that one condition I've waited for. That glow on your throat, your code.. and your enthusiasm, as much as I'd like to see it. Do you have any idea why it glows this way?" He paused, continuing, "I'd like to know if the Collective Consciousness is speaking to you, or through you, and perhaps... to be blunt, make a contract at such an opportune time as this."
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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 Oct 3, 2009 0:23:36 GMT -5
"Ah, Hebe. It's quite splendid you are here..."
She shifted her head from the sight of the bright expanse to the man of the moment, the doctor, the Rook, the enabler of the current apocalypse. She smiled wider, a feat almost impossible a it split her face in a gruesome mask to too many teeth and slitted green eyes; her face would break one day and all that remained would be an echoing laugh.
How lovely of her dearest. He thought she was talking to him. He spoke to the memories of ghosts and planned around jumbled warnings and predictions and believed she was talking to him.
"-and in that morbid condition of yours, that one condition I've waited for." She cocked her head and sat up, legs still under and in front of her. Morbid condition. Was her celebration over her beloved Aether morbid? Was the beauty of revelation deathly? The Aether was All, the Beginning and the End and the Reason. All done in Its name was just and true and fantastical. And he thought her devotion was morbid? One day she would have to show him his faults.
"That glow on your throat, your code.. and your enthusiasm, as much as I'd like to see it. Do you have any idea why it glows this way?" He paused, and she considered. His words were clinical but the meanings were slurred. He was unhinged. She froze her face in its Mad Hatter grin and delicately touched her throat, fingers splayed across her collar. She arched her back and leaned toward the ground, dragging her hand down her chest and belly. The crown of her head met the cold marble as her fingers met her thighs. "It glows because it glows because it glows." It tingled. She shivered.
"I'd like to know if the Collective Consciousness is speaking to you, or through you, and perhaps... to be blunt, make a contract at such an opportune time as this." She said nothing and arched further, crown upon the stone and rear firmly planted; her spine bent like a 'U' and bared her neck to the elements.
Suddenly, she flung her torso forward, hands planting in front of her extended foot, folded leg pushing her up and over as she flipped over, legs straight as she landed. Standing, Hebe looked at him blankly, head listless and spine twisted to curve her body oddly. She reached out and ran the tips of her fingers down the front of his coat, hooking one in a pocket.
"You talk like you know what you say. I hear what I hear and speak what I speak. I am myself and give myself to my giver. Why should I give a gift to you? You commit enough atrocity without a perversion of your damnation to aid you. I think not. I think so. I think a thought once sought before and again and again once more." It would be fun to see him warp. He was warped already. It was through no whim of chance that all of Hebe's killed themselves after devoting themselves to her cause or their cause or a cause that she could cause. He was a shadow of himself. She remembered the bright eyed arrogant boy who came to fetch her through bribery and swordplay. He was a specter, a ghost who watched himself over the edge of a metaphysical platform in an underground city.
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Post by anderson on Oct 3, 2009 13:52:21 GMT -5
Again with her twisted smiles, something Philip detests and finds it quite eery to look at despite the times he has looked at the mutilated remains of those whom he dubbed patients before Tristan's recent success within a field. If anything, her smiles reminded him just too much of his sister, whom he regards as his rival in many ways, and it was just one of the notable things of his sister was that eery smile she was notable for, at least in the blonde's accounting.
"It glows because it glows because it glows." Not the answer he expected to get, and it was again in her typical riddles. Something that lies beyond that of an intelligent answer he'd be expecting to get with an explanation behind it. One with her standing up straight.
Again, as he watched further, she twisted around and bent her body to quite an unnatural proportion and positions. Anderson's lips curves upwards as he forms a smile, it was out of amusement really. He has seen things like this before in his medical lab, through all the subjugation of patients through rigorous and inhumane experimentations that they were supposed to go through, all of that pain. A true testament to this was Tristan.
Watching further and further in her odd movements and motions, finding more amusement within it. That amusement was replaced with that of curiosity as she hooked the 'claws' of her fingers unto his white lab coat's empty pocket. He hasn't done much to remove it, as his curiosity wanted him to see the reasoning behind her strange motioning.
"You talk like you know what you say. I hear what I hear and speak what I speak. I am myself and give myself to my giver. Why should I give a gift to you? You commit enough atrocity without a perversion of your damnation to aid you. I think not. I think so. I think a thought once sought before and again and again once more."
That smile was soon wiped off his face. Not the answer he wanted out of the Immortal. She was still stubborn as ever before. The bounty he sought was still out of his reach... or perhaps closer, her damned riddles simply complicate things all the time. Nonetheless, he still kept that composure of his.
"Oh please, those are done in the name of science. They aren't atrocity, they are the salvation of mankind! All those experiments are done to achieve Immortality that you possess through artificial means... but then again, that's no reason not to sign a contract. Ethics shouldn't have a hand in this." He expected that she'd perhaps put up even more riddles and more reasons as to why perhaps she shouldn't give him the code, at least much to his understanding.
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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 Oct 3, 2009 15:14:02 GMT -5
"Oh please, those are done in the name of science. They aren't atrocity, they are the salvation of mankind! All those experiments are done to achieve Immortality that you possess through artificial means... but then again, that's no reason not to sign a contract. Ethics shouldn't have a hand in this."
Hebe curled her finger tighter in the fabric of his pocket. Sad little king of a sad little hill. The darkest of men called themselves saviors as they wiped the faces of thousands off the crust of the planet and said it was just. She backed up to the edge of the platform, hips gyrating roundly and shoulders swaying; she pulled him with her, arm extended to guide the resisting body.
Face blank, her eyes stayed wide, whites visible all around. He was an idealistic man of idealist thoughts. "Science is a process through which tyrants justify acceptable loss. 'For fear, we have done something grand and terrible, but lo, it is in the name of science and betterment, so it is good.'" She stepped back, then again, until she was balanced on the edge of the platform, the sharp crease digging a line into her instep. Her hand on his jacket was her only hold from falling, body less then safely upright.
She let her head fall back, away from the sight of the doctor and the stairs down to the world of mice and men, looking instead to the perpetual sunset. She wiggled a little and her taunt arm shifted in his coat.
"That is not a reason. Ethics are not reasons. Discussions are not reasons. Arguments and logic and willful asperations are not reasons." She rolled her head so one eye could see him. He was angry at her refusal. He had no place requesting her givings for such nonsensical notions. She didn't care what he thought, and even if she didn't give him a single lick, he would continue on and entertain her anyway.
"Give me a real reason."
'Tell me why you want it. Tell me why YOU want it. Tell me why you need it.'
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Post by anderson on Oct 4, 2009 17:55:52 GMT -5
Being steadfast, a bulwark firmly planted to the ground. Skidding along slightly as he found himself quite disheartened pulled along like that. Only then he relaxed his resistance to her pull, finally going with the flow of where she is pulling him. Only then he again adopted that same resistance as she was over the edge, his hand clasping unto the wrist of her hand hooked unto his coat, holding her up. Quite agitated in expression as he held his teeth crinched together tightly, using a bit of his efforts holding her up... after all, it would be an unnecessary risk to let her fall unto the chasm of clouds.
"Science is a process through which tyrants justify acceptable loss. 'For fear, we have done something grand and terrible, but lo, it is in the name of science and betterment, so it is good.'" Philip looks to the side, the comment wasn't true to him. Not like that, rather, the sacrifice of the few goes so for the benefit of the many. She was twisting it the whole context in the doctor's eyes.
"That is not a reason. Ethics are not reasons. Discussions are not reasons. Arguments and logic and willful asperations are not reasons." She wanted this, to cause agitation within him. It was typical of her, but this is where he is agitated. She was the one holding the cards he wants, and he has to go with the conditions. A kind of game Philip hated. He couldn't be the one controlling everything, but rather, his opposite does. A frown encompasses his lips as his muscles tenses up to show stress in the form of lines plastered on his crown wedged on top of the nasal bridge.
"Give me a real reason."
'Tell me why you want it. Tell me why YOU want it. Tell me why you need it.'
"Simply put, I want to be one step closer to becoming just like you, the ultimate being so devoid of knowledge. All that knowledge seething through you, that direct link and communication to the Collective Consciousness. In other words, be closer to Immortality." He said it in his typical pragmatic tone, responding to Hebe's question. Somehow, he gets the gut feeling she will go on with her riddles and deny him of it.
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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 Oct 4, 2009 19:34:47 GMT -5
He was angry with her. The desire for what she could give and the fury of her denial swirled behind his eyes like clouds, heavy with rain over a drowning city. His hand clasped tighter around her wrist and she wiggled the free fingers not gripping his coat.
He wasn't getting it. He wanted it and he wanted it now, but he didn't understand why he couldn't have it. Everything was for his goals; petty things that, while fun, didn't mean anything to him. She shook her head and let it fall back limply. The point, gentleman, was the why. She had given it away to dozens, hundreds perhaps. He expected her to give him something for that reason alone, that she didn't care so long as it added to the fucked up that was the world.
That was wrong. She didn't care what they did with it, it was their business and maybe a little of hers if they begged her hard enough to stick around and not abandon them after the contract had been made. But it was the why. Why did they want it? Why did they need it? Why was it so important that they get it? The physical world was a complex convolution of mechanics and politics and means of survival. It was the metaphysical that mattered. The reasons unto themselves. The one that was rooted in nothing but personal, selfish, minemineme mentality.
Nikolai had wanted to be the most powerful person on the planet, so that he would be the best, the ultimate.
George had wanted to see everything, so that he could know everything without anyones help.
Xing Mei had wanted to be loved, to have everyones love.
Zahar had wanted to stop the things he hated and change them for himself.
Moska had wanted others to see what he saw.
Salvano had wanted to be beautiful.
Javier had wanted to be in control.
Alejandra had wanted the truth.
Borshiel had wanted to fight.
Metea only wanted what she deserved. And she had gotten it. They all had. Because it was for them.
"Simply put, I want to be one step closer to becoming just like you, the ultimate being so devoid of knowledge. All that knowledge seething through you, that direct link and communication to the Collective Consciousness. In other words, be closer to Immortality."
She said nothing and contemplated his words. She whispered only loud enough for the false breeze of the Aether's Kiss to rush to his ears. "You want to be perfect."
She sighed and let go of his coat, jerked in a brief fall as his grip on her arm caught her. "Is that it? Do you want to be perfect?"
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Post by anderson on Oct 6, 2009 6:34:41 GMT -5
Philip's heart raced with a sort of gaudy anticipation as he felt he was so close to what he wanted. A taste of the true medicine that leads him to the state he always desired. Yet in one other aspect of himself dreaded this moment as it felt that everything will crumble away. That all of this is just a part of her damned riddles that rips out a hole in his heart for every time she denies his request... yet somehow this time felt different, or that was just his human senses appealing to what he wants to think. Still, somehow he wasn't that much concerned about attaining it as of the past, but still desired it. A lesser aspiration amongst the greater which is to create a being so similar to an Immortal, that it can be called one, yet it has been conceived by artificial means.
As Hebe was going to fall off, the good Doctor grasps unto her arm tightly and pulls her back on her feet. Pulling her further into the platform and away from the edge where she might tip off, even though this concern is unfounded due to her unique 'properties' that endow her the ability to stray far from ever becoming clinically dead, and post-mortum ever claiming her, thus she never rots like corpses or experiences such a phenomenon such as death.
"You want to be perfect."
Philip blankly gave a stare at her. It wasn't that she told the truth, he simply found himself dumbfounded about such a statement. It got his attention.
"Is that it? Do you want to be perfect?"
So is that the notion she got? From all those times that he believed her to be a perceptive person, there was this one fault, hence proven that what she suggested could not ever be attainable, for an Immortal is nowhere near perfection, or so Philip believes.
"To be perfect... was it? In this secular existence, perfection is an illusion that only one defines, regardless of those who utter the contrary. This is the reality. Common man seek it out, they strive to achieve it, as if it were some tangible thing... but... the fact of the matter is, perfection is a hollow shell. It is devoid of any substance. I spit on perfection. Perfection, after all, implies you've reached the summit. No trial and error, no ability to conceptualize. An omniscient being would have no need for such superfluous things, am I making myself clear? For people who dabble in the sciences, such as myself, perfection would make me obsolete. Many magnificent things have been, and will continue to come into existence... and yet every last one of them will fall short of perfection's finish. My function as a man of science relies on their many shortcomings. Then, and only then, can we apply the fruits of our labor." Philip pauses to take a few moments to get back unto topic, before adding "I only seek a way to escape my own dire mortality and also to become overtly recognized by the nobles, darling. Immortality and fame. Truth be told, I seek to make others see what I want them to see in me."
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Post by aden on Oct 12, 2009 11:29:00 GMT -5
(well to interrupt the huge post's)
Aden sat on his bunk with in his private quarters staring at a small slip of paper in his hand. while it was small in size what it held could be huge, so huge that it could forever change his life. Gawd why did this man have to be at the California base when i was there. The offer he had made had been torturing Aden for some time now, but he still registered the unknown as something to be feared and not reveared. It is possible though that it is time for that to change, yet Aden did not have the moxie to do it. A phone call would be to devastating to do.
A text that was it, a way for Aden to go down the rabbit whole, but with a string around his ankle he could pull out at any time... Aden wasn't sure what he was talking about anymore he was getting lost in his own metaphors. Aden whipped out his phone and flipped it open, and with the speed of a hungry lioness he punched in the number, but when it came to the message once again Aden was lost, I mean there wasn't anything discussed about what Aden should say when he made contact. "Dear umm well Doctor this is Aden Williams the major from California base, I am ready to take you blue pill, and go down the rabbit whole." He typed before reaching the allowed character limit. The limit was very troublesome as their was more he wished to say, but i guess it had to be done this way encase Aden wanted to retract anything, or everything.
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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 Oct 17, 2009 0:52:23 GMT -5
She felt dazed. Contrary to popular belief, this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. She always felt like her chest would explode and her head would rupture, dripping out everything inside her like a waterfall of molasses, whenever she stood in the presence of the raw incarnations of the Aether. It was All and Everything, and having it rush at her from so close was the ultimate high, better than drugs or sex or chocolate bread. She craved it like an addict in a crack den.
It was singing to her. Lately It was so happy and she smiled at the laughter in her head, vaguely noting Anderson yank her up from her almost-death fall, pulling her so she was in his space, face pressed against his chest and hands resting on his biceps, wrist still trapped in a fingered vice. He was answering her about perfection. She wasn't really listening but if he was finally telling her a reason, than it was only polite to pay attention.
"To be perfect... was it? In this secular existence, perfection is an illusion that only one defines, regardless of those who utter the contrary." Bah. More words. Words were fun and said so many things, but talking for the sake of talking was a waste. He had spouted nonsense for the last twenty minutes; why was he still arguing a lawyers case to a mental patient?
"This is the reality. Common man seek it out, they strive to achieve it, as if it were some tangible thing... but... the fact of the matter is, perfection is a hollow shell. It is devoid of any substance. I spit on perfection." Some of the high was leaving her head and she rolled her eyes against his coat; she would buy him a recorder so that he may listen to himself talk without taxing himself the energy of doing so physically.
"Perfection, after all, implies you've reached the summit. No trial and error, no ability to conceptualize. An omniscient being would have no need for such superfluous things, am I making myself clear? For people who dabble in the sciences, such as myself, perfection would make me obsolete." And how she wished in this moment that he was obsolete. He was not making his case stronger; rather he was making her less dreamy and more agitated. This game was no longer fun nor a curiosity to why he would leave his machinations in the hands of a thing he was fully capable of fulfilling otherwise and perhaps with greater success.
"Many magnificent things have been, and will continue to come into existence... and yet every last one of them will fall short of perfection's finish. My function as a man of science relies on their many shortcomings. Then, and only then, can we apply the fruits of our labor." If he did not get to the point soon, she would be forced to abandon any minuscule inclination and/or amusement at giving him a Geass for kicks. He was disproving her theories like a teacher to a pupil, not giving a reason. She didn't care what came out of his mouth so long as it was a fucking reason.
It seemed he had realized that he had strayed and was loosing her. Perhaps it was the impatient breath she exhaled against his chest and the further leaning of her weight against him. "I only seek a way to escape my own dire mortality and also to become overtly recognized by the nobles, darling. Immortality and fame. Truth be told, I seek to make others see what I want them to see in me."
And there it was.
Finally.
A wish, honest and completely selfish. She rolled her eyes and shifted her head so her face was looking up at him, chin to waist flat against him in a solid line. She pulled her hands to lay on either side of her head, fingers splayed over the fabric and idly tracing small circles. She looked into his bluey blue eyes and raised a single eyebrow. "Well, then."
She stood on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, taking a moment to run her tongue along his teeth before taking him--
--to her other-world. It was bright and white and bare and whitewhitewhite--
--they were miles apart and next to each other and he was on the ground with her straddling his waist and he was pressing her under him and they were sitting and they were standing and there was a thousand of them and there was one of them and there were copies of him looking at him each with a different emotion on their face and there were copies of her acting out stop motion dances and there was nobody there at all and there was no color but for her eyes and her code and the planet in the sky where there was no planet and there were voices echoing past Legacies and silence and stillness and motion and feelings and numbness and electricity and static and nothing and everything and the overwhelming presence of IT and THEM and IT's laughter that he could hear too and weaving through the giggles and the shifting and the echos her voice declared the terms of their Geass--
--i extend my hand in a contract do you accept the terms of which i give and you receive--
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Post by anderson on Oct 19, 2009 15:52:38 GMT -5
Such a vivid and intricate display of movements Anderson was observing, perhaps another one of her rituals. He was getting into it, her chin lying on his waistline, the fact she is this close to him in a sense invigorated him, mildly so to say. During such an endeavor she undertook, he felt his calf vibrate. It was his phone, an SMS message. Slipping his hand into his pocket, moments before he was going to pull it out. Blue eyes froze, body tenses up, lips perched against her's. A place unfamiliar yet so vividly familiar phisoning into existence, it was from his reports. Geass children seeing places like these with an Immortal as a medium to link the two existences of two separate dimensions to one another. Peer into the other one.
It was very otherworldly, so impossible, yet there he was. Regaining that former composure, or what remained of it. There was no fear but a bit of surprise, shock, anxiety. Experience heightened at the very confusing insight of what appears to be... Hebe's mindset. It was all confusing and jumbled up. Upside down. The fact there was one of him here, there, everywhere didn't help in stifling such a confusion. He in fact himself was confused as to his identity here. Who was he in this dimension? Which Philip? He could see from several eyes, from several copies, or at least he thought he saw it in that way.
Ears pierced by the constant laughter of some otherworldy entity. Repetitive, lulling, all of them at the same time. Science has no explanation for this, but yet Anderson knew this wasn't real, it shouldn't be real, there was no way it was real. What he felt, what he sees, what he smelt, all of them a trick. It has to be. Yet he subtly smiled, extending muscles softly on his lips and cheeks to show amusement in his case. He never smiled out of happiness. Not in anyone's presence, and neither in his own.
"--I extend my hand in a contract do you accept the terms of which I give and you receive?--"
"Yes." The doctor answered enthusiastically. No hesitation whatsoever. All of this said willingly, to take power without a question of consequence or whatever it lies. The point of no return for Philip Augustus Anderson.
Fingers of left hand interlacing unto his right-sided beating heart. Palm pressing there. Moment spent as it passed. Hand motioning off his chest and pulling up Hebe's hand.
Moment was overtaken. A sudden flash took place to which Philip found himself briefly exchanging a kiss with Hebe. The same pose held from what appears to be a brief time? An eternity spent in that dimension was a simple second or was it simply his head messing with him? Dismissing such a question, he lets a moment pass in that same pose of his.
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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 Oct 20, 2009 1:51:43 GMT -5
Yes.
--and so it was--
--and so it shall be. Hebe blinked her eyes and they were back in the physical, drawing her lips away and her hand clasped in his, over his heart in an awkward handshake; the back of hers against his chest and his palm tight to hers. She drew back a step, and another, taking her arm, and in turn his, with her, until they were several feet apart with their arms stretched between them.
She smiled blankly, before flipping her hand so his was on the bottom and unlacing their fingers; cradled in the center was a button from his coat. It was shiny and black, so very neatly rounded and straight from the heart of him. Indeed, where their hands had been on his chest was a messy little string from a missing button.
She delicately picked it up and held it to her face; it was so very neat and round, so very like the doctor. She licked it and cocked her head at him. "Thank you for the vessel. It shall be very tasty, I think." She smiled again at him, but this time it was cracked; her head was dipped forward and her eyes were slitted, a sneer pulling up the side of her mouth. It was an ugly look and said that whatever deal had been made might not have been worth the cost. Not even a little. It said, 'I have you and I'll never let you go.'
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Post by anderson on Oct 21, 2009 17:10:14 GMT -5
The entire experience was something, that's definite. Confusing, a myriad of jumbled up thoughts. Nothing is even organized. His eye. His right eye had a blistering sensation to which it could be related to a sting, promptly forcing the good doctor to keep it shut, other eye was his only source of sight to which he can see her, fingers interjoined with a distance to which both arms were stretched, similar to that of a graceful dance often seen in a ball to which Anderson makes a habit to be a regular at.
Philip was rather amused at the sight of Hebe's 'dance' to which it was abruptly stopped, ended under the simple release of fingers against one another from each of their hands. Philip grasping unto the tip of his doctor's coat, pulling it forward only to notice one thing he spotted with his one eye; his button, it was missing. A beady string in place of the button. Now Philip usually wouldn't care about something like that, but as photographic memory serves him right, it was right there until he entered that forsaken realm. Suddenly, Anderson's attention, his eye, wasn't locked unto his coat but at Hebe, who stood opposite of him. Sight of Hebe catching a fancy to Anderson, the lick of a button in particular. His button.
"Thank you for the vessel. It shall be very tasty, I think."
Particularly, her delicate features often spoiled by her maniacal features was even further spoiled by the most devilish grimace yet, but one thing for sure is that Anderson too was satisfied in his own way, believing that he scored himself a victory. His pride, his arrogance diluting on what he has made, the horrible act of even binding himself to that monster, Hebe, really meant.
"I am delighted then to be of service." Philip replied, not about the contract, but the button's taste quality. Blue eye now purplish snapping open to reveal that infamous Geass sigil on his eyes. "What is my role now that I have binded myself to you, Ms. Visilikis?"
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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 Oct 21, 2009 20:14:45 GMT -5
She smiled wider, eyes too big and too many teeth flashing in the half light. She watched him squint his morphed eye and notice the sudden lack of a button. She also saw the light of such a thing he made of it. His pride and his arrogance, such was it that it made him blind to all that he should be wary of.
"I am delighted then to be of service." He snapped his new eye open to reveal his contract, his stigma, his mark of Cain. "What is my role now that I have binded myself to you, Ms. Vasilikis?" She giggled and stepped back. The light of Aether was so far behind her, the two somehow having migrated closer to the stairs and away from accidental falling into the infinite.
She rolled the button in her fingers, manic grin fading to something more loving and less insane; it really was so very neat and orderly, so very proper a button for a neat, orderly little man. She held her arm out to admire it from afar, not even looking at the vessel's owner.
"It is as you wish it, Herr doktor. It as whatever you wish it," she replied idly. The little thing was so pretty and black. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and raised a brow. "I have my part of the contract, so I care little what you do with it." She quirked a corner of her mouth into a playful smile, one between friends. She flipped the button so it was clasped between her index and middle fingers and raised it up to wave it at him.
"And don't worry; I'll take good care of it. I always do. But please," she wagged a finger at him. "Be sure not to die before I eat it. After all," and perhaps it may have been a trick of the light, who knows in the strange world the platform over looking the Sword of Akasha straddled, but the button flashed a piercing baby blue, just like the doctor's eyes, well former eye.
"After all," she repeated. "A soul is a terrible thing to waste." And with that, Hebe the Immortal turned and headed for the stairs. Whether he followed her or not was his prerogative.
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