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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Dec 20, 2009 16:07:51 GMT -5
"So... am I to understand this meeting is over?"[/b] Mana asked. Disappointment lightly coated her words. Gauron supposed that it was. Hebe had been the one to demand it and now she was off in the guest room doing who-knew-what.
He was about to answer in the affirmative when a sudden commotion tore his attention away from Mana. Hebe was... talking? Singing? Gauron didn't know, but it gave him a bad feeling. With a jarring quickness that he really should have learned to expect from the insane woman by now, she burst out of the bedroom, and made her way to Mana. "Don't bring around a cloud! Who told you you're allowed! To rain on my parade." The words came just before a kiss and a series of spins.
"Do whatever you like, but take it to the other room. I have work to do," Gauron said dismissively. It wasn't entirely untrue. There were still some finishing touches to add to his report on Aleksei Makarov. The information had been somewhat difficult to gather, but the payoff promised to be more than worth it.
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Post by victoria on Dec 24, 2009 14:29:14 GMT -5
Mana nodded firmly to Gauron, before turning abruptly as Hebe's singing began. Mana raised a brow... it wasn't her favorite type of music, but Hebe's singing voice was charming. Mana could appreciate good music, no matter what style.
Mana let out a surprised muffled noise against Hebe's lips as she kissed her, then stumbled slightly as the silver-haired beauty dragged her away a short distance, before spinning around. Mana can't help but laugh faintly at Hebe's sudden change of attitude, "I had no idea you were a bard, Hebe." she chuckled.
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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 Dec 30, 2009 23:38:06 GMT -5
The world is turning and the world is burning and such a pretty fire lights the way away always and it sparkles and speckles and simpers and all is spinning and spinning as she links her hands with the pretty, pretty baby and pulls them in sync with the pendulum of the planet. She pirouettes and twists their arms together above her head and bows, back leg straight out behind her and she feels delicate like lace and harsh like leather in synergy. She lets go of her partner and spins like a prima, ankles snapping smartly*, back straight and arms arched in front of her and the couch and armchair are her gracious audience, so lovingly giving their silent applause, shirttails billowing out around her. Baby brother is in the background blowing babble and permits sordid acts to bequeath her lovely room of dull and bland and she beams brightly at the thought of giving it some color. Her pretty baby laughs and remarks upon songs and she remembers she has been singing, show tunes of centuries past trickling though her lips and she remembers a time once upon a place where a league of trees gave way to a crumbling old building and a thrashing mass of enthusiastically dressed adolescents danced to a band named after baby horses and a girl in a lavender dress flashing lovely metallic yellow underpants on stage next to the bassist and a boy in stripes kissing a clown and girls in a tub with streamers for hair and a boy in drag and all was a writhing joyous pulse and she'd ended the night in an antique trunk with a boy in a ringmaster's jacket framing his bare chest and belly on top of her. It had been wondrous and thrilling and parties in the Britannian motherland were so much greater than where the empire was placed now. She grins and doesn't see the boring parlor and amused woman but a dark neon throng of wasted teenagers in underwear and wigs and feathers. And gone is the elegant ballet but the bouncing mindlessness of a night-mass party; she's up on her toes with her arms in the air and bobbing her head the the songs of the Baby Horses. She wants another trunk and another boy in a red jacket but a glorious lady with an icy burn for eyes and bruises for lips is here instead and she's so deliriously happy for no reason and thats how it should be and brother is offering, so a hand reaches out and snags Lady Love by the cloth between her breasts and she's kissing her hard and there's a door against her back and rug-burn on her heels from backing up and and the metal of a handle in her palm and the door giving way and the music in her head as the wood slams behind them. * Her ankles aren't breaking. She's doing ballet spins.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Dec 31, 2009 1:18:51 GMT -5
Gauron paid no mind to the wanton display of passion taking place mere feet away from the table. Or rather, he tried to. It was difficult with such a flurry of motion and emotion, though. That damned connection between himself and the other Immortals that snaked this way and that through the place that didn't technically exist but was still somehow very real kept him appraised of significant spikes of their dispositions. The proximity didn't help matters.
Hebe took Mana into the guest room as asked. The thin barriers of the walls and door would do little to prevent the intensity, but a new development occupied the entirety of his attention. He had an email. The sender was one of his contacts with the Chinese: Warrant Officer Tianzao. It was encrypted as well as written in code. Gauron felt a small swell of pride at the young man's care.
It read: The Federation is planning to move against you. All I've heard are rumors so far, but word is that Kayeri Brant is heading the movement. He never did seem to like you very much. The others and I can't do anything to stop it at present, but we will keep trying. I will send word as soon as I gather anything more concrete.[/color]
Gauron smiled openly at the message. He had trained many Devicers for the Chinese Federation. Some had survived. Most had broken either physically or mentally. The few that made it through, though, were terrifying fighters. Of those survivors, only the best had received... additional council. Gauron had taken time with each individual and turned them into something wholly different. Those men and women had been turned into operatives for Gauron. Their loyalties lay only where he told them to. They fought as he instructed. They killed without mercy or question. They would die as quickly as he needed. They were as close to perfect as he could make them. And they would turn their backs on the Chinese just as easily as he had.
Gauron sent a reply, informing Tianzao that he wasn't to do anything brash. If, and indeed when, the Chinese moved against him, they were instructed to find passage to Area 11. Once there, he would have them placed in Irkalla. Only the best for his little soldiers. The message was written in a different code that Tianzao alone would recognize and encrypted before being sent on its way.
"That explains their lack of contact," Gauron said, thinking aloud. The Chinese had always been hesitant to use his skills, both in his time with them before and now, but had recently fallen suspiciously silent. He supposed that it was only a matter of time before they did something rash. And stupid. "Let them come. I could use a good battle." Without another thought about the situation, he returned his attention to the work at hand. His report on Aleksei Makarov wasn't going to finish itself, after all.
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Post by victoria on Jan 2, 2010 12:25:29 GMT -5
Mana let out a surprised muffled moan as she found herself against the door to the room, pinned by Hebe's body and her lips against her own. The door gave way as Hebe turned the knob, making Mana move back with some ease, as Hebe pushed her into the room. The door slammed behind the silver-haired immortal, and now they were alone in this bland room. Mana felt a burst of emotions rushing through her. It was hard to place; to put a label to what she felt. In just a matter of days her world had been turned upside-down by the notion of immortals walking amongst the populace she hated so much. And Hebe... she was one of said beings... and by her previous reaction she was one that didn't care much for Mana's goals. This put a damper in Mana's attraction to the mystical woman.
Her carnal and esoteric charms were still strong, as only Hebe could muster, as her soft skin radiated the notion that she was something beyond all this world... she didn't belong to the nonsense of this society, but at the same time, she belonged to the world. Alien to humans, but not to nature. In a sense, it was perhaps, this xenophilia that drew Mana to this woman in the first place, but what now? She felt Hebe's body against hers, it felt frail, like Mana's hands could easily crush Hebe's slender arms if she squeezed hard enough. That long swan-like neck of hers, that she dreamed of holding tightly in her hands, it just called her attention like a murderous instinct.
It was perhaps the notion that Hebe was beyond death that confused the flow of Mana's spirit. The flow of her wanting emotions collided with her strong logical mind, causing a battle to wage in her soul rivaling the cosmic chaos of creation. And then it hit her, like a tidal wave. Was this what fear felt like? Not the emotion her instruments felt before their demise, no... this was something deeper, almost intangible. A primal fear, if it can even be called that. Mana had no necrophobia, she did not fear death, she embraced it, and the idea that even she herself was capable of reaching an end. The notion that Hebe could kill her, and probably without a second thought, is what made sex with her so exhilarating. It felt like a constant battle between the two, a battle of pleasure and pain, of survival, as the two contended for who was hunting the other. A clash of all things the religious sort had branded as sinful and forbidden, all exploding in a beautiful mass made of two bodies.
No... this fear was something more. It was a ephemeral emotion evoked by the undeniable truth that Mana, in her whole, could not end this masterpiece of a woman she was ravishing and being ravaged by. Even if she wanted to.
And this was the spice that made sex with Hebe so uniquely and exceptionally delicious[/i].
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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 Jan 8, 2010 0:12:39 GMT -5
Hebe was dancing. Life was a dance and every move was scripted in an ethereal playbook somewhere beyond the stars and sky, and she was the prima ballerina. Her stage is set and act 12 is in a gray little room on a gray little bed with a black haired pretty baby with eyes like burns backed up and shoved hard on the sheets. She grins like ivory and follows, straddling the air above the other's hips, hands planted beside her head. She smirks like a Glasgow Smile and licks a line across her baby's mouth.
How quaint, this thing she does. She isn't sure she's ever done this before, slept with a body in this situation. Baby girl has known her, lived and gone on to be graced with the Aether's Curse by another, then known again. Or, rather, in the process of being known. It's a technical thing and she ponders it while drawing red lines on pale skin with her nails. She let her live that first night because she saw something fierce, something primal and raw, and all things that exist that fervently should have a chance to spread the love. Spread like butter and melt, seep into the cracks and gum up the works of the world, a thing so flawed and imbalanced that only complete and utter annihilation could make it good again. Noah's Ark, Judgment Day, Ragnarok, Shouyuan, Qiyamah, Zeus' Wrath; it didn't matter. Complete upheaval. A Bosch painting on earth, so much fire and screams, the colors running together like blood in the water and dirt.
Pretty baby girl had gripped her like it wouldn't please her little mortal heart more than to break her and grind into the pieces. Such a tragedy of humanity deserved to live and spread like butter. She huffs a laugh into her skin.
And baby hitches like a shudder and she lifts to stare her down, a mock in her gaze and a smirk swelling her lips. She traces hands down a pretty little belly and digs her nails where clothes block her wandering. "Pretty thing, pretty baby infant. So scared and weak, shall I coddle you and pet the child with a kiss and a lullaby as I lay thee down to sleep?"
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 10, 2010 13:34:21 GMT -5
It was unfortunate that all Gauron had to do was put the finishing touches on Makarov's profile. If he had more to do, his mind would have been occupied and he could have easily shut out all distractions. As it stood, he could hear every single sound that Hebe and Mana were making. When he finished the work he glared at the screen, as if commanding it to conjure more for him to do.
Gauron saved the report onto a data stick with a contemptuous sigh. With nothing else to do, he navigated to a news site. Thanks to his little escapade in the ghetto, the Knightpolice were being made to look like bumbling idiots and a fairly large number of them were reported to be resigning. That was just as well; killing civil servants was hardly exciting.
Despite the distraction, he could still hear the two in the guest room. Gauron gave a displeased grumble and retrieved a pair of headphones from a duffel bag next to his feet. After plugging them in, he pulled the headphones on, switched to a live newscast, and tried to convince himself that the anchorwoman's screeching voice was somehow better than listening to what was going on only a short distance away. To his mind, they were at about the same level of annoyance.
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Post by victoria on Jan 12, 2010 11:01:01 GMT -5
Mana's hands trailed down Hebe's face delicately as the silver-haired immortal spoke those words. Mana's storm-blue eyes seemed almost loving, until Hebe's words broke through the layer of emotions, pheromones, and hormones that shrouded Mana's mind. Those words sunk, like lead in tar, and caused a short-circuit in Mana's mainframe that could only equate the reaction of glass when introduced to a rapidly moving rock. Her once loving eyes turned into a gaze of pure unadulterated loathing that, if Hebe was mortal, she might have spontaneously combusted in it's intensity.
Mana's hand flew with great speed to slap Hebe's beautiful face. Mana was just managing to deal with the fact that, age-wise, she was a speck of dust floating in the void, were Hebe was a galaxy. Her psyche, which has been strained to the border of insanity by the discovery of immortals, just didn't have the power to deal with the fact someone would speak down to her in such a way. Sure, Hebe might not have meant it as an insult, but Mana took it as such, in a moment of partial vulnerability, and this was a first in her life.
With a shove following the slap Mana went to get up, heading to the door of the room to literally storm out. If Hebe doesn't stop her, Mana will open the door with such force it will fracture at the top hinge, forever dooming it to fail at closing properly.
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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 Jan 18, 2010 19:12:55 GMT -5
A connection. Circles and cycles and a strike of flesh. She is blinking at the ceiling and her cheek tingles and her back hits bouncy soft. Pretty baby rages and rages and has shoved her off to leave their copulation uncoupled. How impolite. She is flat on her back on bouncy soft and lifts her head to watch Baby rage toward the door.
And she starts laughing. It's so funny, really. So very very funny and her belly aches and her laughter is loud and echoing and cracks like sanity. So very funny. Baby girl can go, she can leave, she can play as she wishes and the door falls open like a thunder clap. And it's still so very funny.
She drops her head back down and grins Glasgow at the boring white ceiling. Baby will leave her and any ache in the nethers shall go untouched but it doesn't matter; so very very funny. She should tell Pretty Baby Girl that, she should.
"Silly things, all tied with knots. Circles and cycles, see. You are here but you shouldn't. Lucky baby, living. A festival meets us and you're so broken, I had to keep you breathing. Had to, had to." She has to laugh hard.
"Sweet baby brother owns you now. No touching, now. Lick you up, but the heart keeps pumping. It's not nice to steal from siblings and he has you neat and nice like a present." She rolls her head so it's still resting on the bed but she can see the doorway.
"Treat him kindly, pet. 'Else he will keep his Code and the one who's gifted will follow the broken path." So very funny! The geassed ones lose themselves, each time, unless they get the Code. Break and shatter, the meaning for existence stolen away by the contract. So very funny.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 18, 2010 22:42:22 GMT -5
Gauron had stopped listening to the newscast; the anchors' voices had become little more than white noise. His eyes had an unfocused, bored gleam to them. That lasted until a loud smash drew his attention back to the world. He turned his head and took of the headphones just in time to see Mana storm out of the guest room in a fairly undignified state of dress. He could hear Hebe cackling and, as usual, spewing nonsense.
It was impossible not to figure out that something had gone horribly wrong in some way or another. Trouble in paradise,[/i] was his first thought. Gauron fixed Mana with an expectant look. She could tell him - and he might listen - or, more than likely, she wouldn't tell him anything. Either option would work as long as Mana could still fulfill her end of the contract.
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Post by victoria on Jan 20, 2010 20:34:18 GMT -5
Mana visibly tensed at Hebe's laughter, every muscle on her toned arms flexing in her slender frame. She walked into the room, picked up her shirt and put it back on, looking at Gauron with flames in her storm blue eyes, "Tomorrow, 1500 hours, turn on your local TV. You will enjoy it." she flashed a glimpse of a smile, as she slid her shoes on and picked up her backpack. "Please, in the future, allow me the grace to stray away from your sister, if at all possible. I would greatly appreciate to never meet this rude enigma again." she nodded respectfully to Gauron, moving to the window, before turning to him one last time, "...and sorry about the door." Mana leaped out of the window, proceeding to leave the area in her unique way.
[exit]
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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 Jan 20, 2010 22:31:26 GMT -5
Chimes. Her voice was chiming, ringing peels and peels and not stopping 'til the bells stilled and the clapper lost momentum. She lay giggling and all she could think of was the so very very lovely delightful shudder that had crawled like snakes up Baby girl's arms. She's gone and while its a sin and a shame that a sin was not committed, she has that lovely lovely feeling of having taken someone and shattered them to the core. So nice, like chocolate and walks on the beach.
She pushes herself up and pushes the tails of her shirt down; no company to entertain, no need to flash the goods. She gets up and runs her hands over the dresser, walls as she heads for the door, trails fingers over bruised wood, splinters, Baby broke it good. Brother is sitting so very neatly, maybe he's amused.
"Was your masterpiece so very violent before you painted her? Or is she using too much? 'Cause really, newborns don't go mad 'til they can't turn it off." Humming she strolls over and plops down in the empty chair, crosses her legs and leans her elbow on the table, head in hand and a coy little smile on her face.
Contractees were so much fun, 'specially when you never had any intention of passing the Code along. Humans were so stupid; trade for power but never asking what they were giving. Trading their Purpose, their reason for Existing, their Destiny away. The Code Bearers had new purposes given to them the second they took it from the Contractor, so having it taken was alright. Don't pass along the Code, and blobs of pointless meat walked around trying to fill the sudden empty. Usually with acts of vicious violence, red flying like water in a maelstrom.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 21, 2010 0:24:16 GMT -5
Gauron watched and listened carefully as Mana prepared to leave."Tomorrow, 1500 hours, turn on your local TV. You will enjoy it." The tiny flash of a smile told him everything he needed to know: Mana was still reliable.
"You're a master of suspense," he said with a mirthful tone. He really was looking forward to seeing whatever it was that she was planning. It was sure to be entertaining.
"Please, in the future, allow me the grace to stray away from your sister, if at all possible. I would greatly appreciate to never meet this rude enigma again," Mana said with a quick tilt of her head. "...and sorry about the door." And just like that, she was out the window and gone. He wasn't worried about the door, honestly. Sure he'd lose the security deposit, but that was a non-issue.
He turned his head to watch Hebe as the young woman came out of the guest room. "Was your masterpiece so very violent before you painted her? Or is she using too much? 'Cause really, newborns don't go mad 'til they can't turn it off," she said as she meandered to a vacant chair and plopped into it. His so-called "sister" was surprisingly lucid. Gauron found it refreshing.
He thought back to his and Mana's first "real" meeting, back in the Ghetto. "The potential has always been there," he said with a shrug. He had seen it in her eyes, even so far back as France when she watched her own mother die. "And I'm almost certain she hasn't lost control... yet." Then again, Mana was his first Contractee. He had no idea what to expect and a little bit of reconnaissance could go a long way. "Will I know it when it happens?" he asked in a low, almost uncertain voice. Regardless of the fact that he needed to know, it was extremely difficult to actually ask for help from anyone and he was scowling at the display of weakness.
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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 Jan 21, 2010 1:05:42 GMT -5
"The potential has always been there. And I'm almost certain she hasn't lost control... yet." She grins and reclines, lolling her head on the chair back. The 'yet' sounded lovely. She hums again and squints her eyes to see what the room looks like through her eyelashes. "Will I know it when it happens?"
She snaps her eyes wide open. He's asking her. Oh, oh. Oh, how di-vine, baby brother asking her. It's his first time isn't it, the first time is always special, to make a man out of him. So to speak. Is one a 'man' if one isn't human? She claps her hands together, so very pleased. Lovely.
"Undeniably. Indubitably. Undoubtedly. She's leaking away. Can't you feel it? She's yours, she belongs to you." Her first 'talk'! She must must must get it right. "The second ink touched paper, you had her. Everything she is adds to you. Well," she shrugs. "Not you, your Code. The Entity that lives through you.
"She'll drain away until there's nothing left, 'til she's nothing. 'Til she has nothing. No future, no fortune, no more to-be. She just is, and that's a void. And then she has a full geass, ripe for Code-giving. Her future's empty so it's easy to fill it with eternity. And she gets all you took back and then some, all the ones that came before."
She smiles. "Of course, no Code, no filing, no feeling, no complete. Empty empty trying not to be." They are the original cross-roads demons; what's a soul but the cumulation of a being's experiences.
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Post by Josef "Gauron" Totschläger on Jan 21, 2010 1:35:29 GMT -5
Just as he thought she would, Hebe was enjoying the situation entirely too much for his comfort. Gauron's scowl evolved into a full frown and he looked away. Despite his feigned disinterest, he listened intently. "Undeniably. Indubitably. Undoubtedly. She's leaking away. Can't you feel it? She's yours, she belongs to you. The second ink touched paper, you had her. Everything she is adds to you. Well, not you, your Code. The Entity that lives through you."
So he would feel it. Now all he had to do was wait and hope that he recognized it when it happened - if it hadn't already. While his thoughts were racing, Hebe kept talking. "She'll drain away until there's nothing left, 'til she's nothing. 'Til she has nothing. No future, no fortune, no more to-be. She just is, and that's a void. And then she has a full geass, ripe for Code-giving. Her future's empty so it's easy to fill it with eternity. And she gets all you took back and then some, all the ones that came before." With that, Gauron snapped his head back to her smiling face, a look of genuine surprise on his. Was that one of the rules? Did he absolutely have to give his Code away? "Of course, no Code, no filing, no feeling, no complete. Empty empty trying not to be."
Gauron relaxed a little, glad that relinquishing his gift was not mandatory. Of course, that was assuming that he was interpreting her words correctly. "I'm not ever giving up this power," he said with an unfamiliar passion in his voice. "It's just too much fun to give away." With a sudden jolt of curiosity, Gauron's lips twitched downward just before he looked Hebe in the eyes. "Just how long have you been alive?" He was almost afraid to know. All he knew about her age was that she was much, much older than he. Given the fact that she was an Immortal, though, that didn't mean as much as concrete facts.
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