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 Posted: Fri Mar 22, 2024 4:51 pm
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What was Zen doing? What was he actually doing? Was he even making a difference, and if he was then was it actually worth it? These inquiries that dared to quantify the impact of his choices and the effort behind them echoed in his mind as he endured the aftermath of the carnage that unfolded just moments ago. It was impossible to evade the doubt regarding whether or not his ambitions were justification enough to warrant the lives lost in the slaughter? They had nothing to do with his vendetta or his conflicting feelings for Aella and yet they were dragged into the abyssal torrent of this…’Ocean’…which was nothing more than a limitless current of specters that were ripped apart by their phantasmal sinews only to be put back together again to endure again and again…their torment and agony becoming the very well he drew power from. The only way Zenith could actually come to terms with that reality was if he only killed those who deserved the hell that followed, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t have the ability to keep to that ideal design. It seemed like yesterday that he spent his free time assisting the people of South America in building a memorial for those who died at his hands only a year earlier…and while this was nowhere close to that catastrophe, it still hurt Zenith just the same.
Bury it, just bury it…the swordsman would find the time to give back to the families and loved ones who he had taken from-that’s all he could do. There was no way to get them back… no spell to reverse the damage or rewind time before the atrocity.
Meanwhile, the Devil was actually quite content since he had gotten there before things got too out of control. Pantheons of all kinds were furious that the king of hell hadn’t locked the sword saint up in some dimension so hidden that the prison would become an eternal purgatory that ensured the safety of everything and everyone…the thing was the devil had a immovable disposition to sealing people into pocket dimensions ‘for their own good’ or for that of others; Not that he was willing to share with anyone why exactly that was…but he was old and strong enough to tell the gods and goddesses to ******** off while he did things his way-though that just made him even more unpopular among them-so just imagine if this had gotten worse! To him, this was all something he could sweep under the rug for now. That’s how small of a scale it was to him.
“Listen kid,” he spoke to the wounded warrior he was almost dragging at his side, “we are gonna have a nice little chat-again…after I patch your stupid a** u-“ before the infernal monarch could even finish, a pizza sized stone disk shot right past his head, the current of the air flipping his blonde locks. “The ********’ he-“
DINK
The devil’s eyes went wind, and a wide smile stretched across his handsome complexion as he whipped his head behind him, “no shot that just-….oh s**t bahahahahahaha. His fault, I told that edgy fu** to leave. Sucks to suck.” The King of hell made a motion to turn back to the door, trying his best to recover from his hysterical outbreak by grounding himself to the fact that he needed to get through the door, get Aella out the door, and then chew the hell out of this guy again. Before he could even take a step though, Zenith had warped out of his hold. “The hell,” what was he doing?! He could barely walk, let alone bounce around like that.
And the devil was right, Zenith collapsed onto one knee near the unconscious Shingen and coughed up some blood. His mana was running on fumes and his body was in no condition to be moving about after the beat down the BoM agent put him through…and yet he came back for him checking his vitals for a moment before vanishing with him. The Devil scoffed; Zenith was undeniably a moron who likely lost his last remaining brain cells after whatever transpired. Still, he could sense that the swordsman warped into Ogotunam…so he would just keep going. The infernal lord opened his hand as if waiting for someone to put something into it-quite impatiently in fact. Only then did the stone disk begin to float…hovering until it settled right in his grasp. After that he simply kept moving. As the Devil walked through the door with stifled irritation, he snapped his fingers…both healing Zenith from a distance and closing the door without turning around…and that is when he saw exactly what was going on between Aella and Mephitis.
“The fu** is going on here,” he said callously as his heterochromatic eyes locked on the way the dragon man was holding onto the elementalist…dragon elementalist? The fu**…it was ******** April, a bit early for naughty costumes wasn’t it? After a few seconds he was able to reel away from that thought and return back to what else was wrong with the situation; Seriously the ******** nerve of some guys these days. Those blue and green eyes lifted slowly to meet the dragons irises that oscillated with color, shooting him a glare that was clearly unimpressed and annoyed with what he had walked in on. “And who the fu** are y-….ohhhh I know who you are,” a dark crooked grin crossed his handsome complexion as his free hand pointed and bobbed in the dragon’s direction as a gesture of sudden recognition. He could see it…and even if he couldn’t, he could feel it… “you’re the lizard with the bad breath and a slave kink…heh… listen carefully you homeless Batman villain looking fu**, this isn’t a K drama so why don’t you let go of Puff Puff the slutty dragon’s wrist or I’m going t- actually…why the fu** am I even asking?”
His last words were more to himself as he closed his fist…and then gradually opened it. Mephitis would instantly feel it. Unlike the gust of air that was more of an intense impact born from between his grasp, this was a constant invisible force that kept opening up his hand from the inside-without at all harming Aella. Even with his draconic strength he would find that this telekinetic pressure was too strong and unyielding until Aella could simply pull away from him. After that, the stone in his hand began to glow an ominous red…and the doorframe lit up as well…and once the infernal king walked over and opened it, the space beyond the door had changed from gore and destruction to the inside of the sword saint dojo. “You, go home…” he told Aella…but even if she tried…Zenith appeared in front of it, exhaustion still plain on his features, but healed up at least. “I need to speak with them…both of them…” the man said calmly…which of course pissed the Devil off more. “No, what you need to do…” the demon stepped into Zen’s space, “is to stop behaving like a godd*** child, back off, and let the girl leave.”
Meanwhile things were getting far too intense for Milo…who was slowly tiptoeing toward his room.
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Posted: Mon Mar 25, 2024 9:46 pm
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 tab ❧ I'm the violence in the pouring rain.
A small cry escaped Aella's lips, a sharp exhalation of surprise and pain, as she accidentally unleashed her magic upon their hands, likely causing bruises in the process. Most of the force had been buffered by the curl of the stranger's fingers around her wrist, but they were not enough to fully shield her slender arm from the impact of pressurized air suddenly popping free. The impact reverberated through her slender frame, sending a jolt of unpleasant sensations coursing through her veins. Her entire form nearly toppled over as their hands were tossed out, but the dragon boy's quick reflexes and inherent strength managed to snap them back into a steady position before gravity took it's toll and sent them stumbling.
Aella felt his strong arm curl around her waist, pulling her body in opposition to the direction it wanted to go, and in the blink of an eye, she'd been pulled in close. Every minute detail slammed into her, overwhelming her senses in a whirlwind of confusion and recognition. His frame, though similar in its embrace, felt subtly different from the man he claimed to be. Where Mephitis had possessed a sturdy, muscular build, this figure seemed more slender, more lean, his contours tracing a different silhouette against her own.
The scent of his skin was also different. Once so familiar, now carried a discordant note. Gone was the fragrance of a summer meadow, replaced by a curious blend that assaulted her senses. Whether he was freshly showered or sweat-drenched from exertion, there had always been an underlying aroma that evoked memories of sun-dappled fields and lazy afternoons. But this man did not smell the same. There were hints of alcohol, sharp and biting, mingling with the faint linger of smoke—a residue of late nights spent in crowded bars and bustling nightclubs. Yet beneath these odors lurked something deeper, something unfamiliar. His scent was woodier now, reminiscent of a dense forest after rainfall, yet there was a warmth to it, a subtle spiciness that set it apart.
Aella's mind raced, struggling to reconcile the discrepancies between expectation and reality. This was not Mephitis, of that she was certain. A frown curled on her plush lips, her brows knitting together in consternation. She regarded him icily, the intensity of her shattered gaze like daggers piercing the air between them.
"This might be hard to hear, but you're probably a really confused clone or some—" Aella's words faltered as his head turned abruptly, his attention stolen away from her mid-sentence. She couldn't comprehend what could possibly have interrupted their tense exchange. "What are you—" Her voice trailed off as she became aware of the sound, a hysterical laughter that seemed to fill the air around them. The noise grated against her senses, discordant and unsettling. Now her attention, too, was diverted elsewhere, drawn to the source of the laughter like a moth to flame.
Sharp, shattered irises widened in shock as she followed the trajectory of a flying stone, her scrutiny focused on the unexpected disturbance. rustration and confusion melted away from her dewy complexion, replaced by a mixture of disbelief and horror. Her stomach lurched, a sickening sensation that coiled like a serpent within her. The failed science experiment that had latched onto her body would feel every muscle in her body contract, barely holding down the meager contents of her stomach as nausea threatened to overwhelm her.
Shingen lay unconscious, Zen appeared injured. "Zen!" Aella cried out, her voice tinged with panic, but her plea went unanswered as he vanished from sight in the blink of an eye. Where had he gone? Panic clawed at her insides as her head swiveled around the living room, searching desperately for any sign of him. Her free hand pushed against the clone's chest, a futile attempt to signal her desire to pursue Zen, but he was nowhere to be found.
As confusion reigned, Shingen also disappeared from the chaos and the blonde man was still slinging insults moments. Recognition dawned slowly, like a fog lifting from her mind. "Levi?" His name escaped her lips in a whisper, resonating in the air like a distant murmur. With it came the thrumming of an oncoming headache, a dull pain that began to pulse in the back of her skull. Memories, fragmented and disjointed, began to creep into her consciousness, unwelcome and unsettling.
The grip of the stranger around her suddenly disappeared, but Aella hardly noticed as the pounding inside her skull intensified. She staggered backward, her hands instinctively clutching at her head as sharp pain lanced through her. The sounds of talking around her became muffled, drowned out by the relentless ringing in her ears as she struggled to maintain her composure amidst the overwhelming onslaught of sensations.
The bar area was smaller than she expected- actually, that wasn't the right word. Narrow. There, that was better. It was a rather narrow set up, without much room to dance or loiter around, not in this room anyway. She didn't have time to explore any other area since the blonde she had sought out was front and center and gesturing for her to take a seat. Strangely enough though, despite it's long and skinny set up and unusually busy atmosphere, it didn't really feel crowded. It had a homey, casual elegance to it that made her feel both over and under dressed at the same time. Her heels thudded softly on the wood floor as she crossed to the indicated spot and perched herself on the edge of the stool, spine straight and at attention. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing at attention as if someone was keenly watching her, but every time she turned to glance around she didn't see anyone paying her any mind. Strange.
Unsure of what to say now that she was here, she aimed for a bit of small talk. "So uh... this is your place." Maybe a drink or two would help loosen her up...
But the bar was gone and she was in the livingroom again, the floor rushing up rapidly to meet her. Now she was wishing that guy was still holding her, because the floor was going to be a very unfriendly host.
Where: ???
With: ??? and roadkill
Doing: oopsies
Wearing:Tight black body suit and black stripper heels, smokey eye make up
Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums and parks and monuments and kiss you in every beautiful place,
so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible.
And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people.
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Posted: Fri Mar 29, 2024 6:32 pm
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『 It's in the air and it's all around 』xxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx Location: Ogotunam Residence
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Company: Aella, Milo, Zen, Shingen (Out Cold), and Levi
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Internally: Clone...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Wearing: All black suit
"This might be hard to hear, but you're probably a really confused clone-"
Clone... That final word echoed within his mind again and again as he stared at Aella. His lips stayed parted ever so slightly while the very edges started to curly downwards. Those shimmering eyes that were constantly shifting through every possible color were now dimming as Aella drove a knife deep within his very soul. What little hope he had was snuffed out in an instant. How could she not know it was him? Yes, he had been forced to change just so he could survive. His dark blue locks were dyed a jet black now, his eyes could never reclaim their bubblegum pink ever again, and he lost a little weight. However, couldn't she feel this connection between them? This completeness that he had been chasing over this past year. It was faint but it was there... Right? Unless it was just him. What if it was just in him mind? What if everything he felt, he knew, and he wanted was fabricated. What if he was fabricated? The thought shook the dragon to his very core until his instinctual defenses burned it into his mind that he wasn't alone. That is when he just stared at the scene behind him. The horrors within the club, Zen for a moment, and then Levi.
Wesley barely had time to process the pain with his heart and the tragic realization of what might be before Levi started mouthing off. The dragon was just stunned as the devil launched a verbal assault at him. His former poison breath, his kink, and then dropping the name of one of his favorite heroes. Did Wesley know this man? He felt like the two of them had never met? Granted, that would be the least of his worries soon enough. An invisible force seized the dragon's body after Levi opened his hand. It started with his hands. Every finger forced to uncurl as the palms were pushed away from Aella's form. His grip entirely gone in a split second before his both arms started to move as well. The power was unrelenting! It felt like the force was being applied to every inch of his arms. It didn't hurt but was humiliating. He was useless. The very thing he wanted was standing right before him and yet it felt like she was miles away. As his connection with her broke, Wesley's eyes snapped back into a chaotic, kaleidoscopic display rather than a soft, rhythmic shifting of colors.
Wesley gazed at the dark-haired beauty for a second longer before looking down at his own hands. Was he really Mephitis? Aella had recognized Zen. Hell, she recognized this new guy that Wesley didn't even know! So, why couldn't she recognize him? The dragon wanted to tell himself that it was just Aella being foolish as always, but there was a seed of doubt within him. Memories bubbled up of what he first woke up to after his battle with Ash. The harsh glare of lights aimed down directly at him and constant cacophony of various machines monitoring every little thing about him. Everything had been so pristine, so advanced, and so perfectly placed that it could only be one thing. Deia's private lab. She was the first face he saw upon waking up. Those crimson eyes studying him with such intensity that it felt like she was boring holes into him. She wouldn't though! Ash was certainly a clone but not... Why not? What stopped Deia from recreating Mephitis other than the fact there was already one. What would happen if Mephitis died? Their mother would be an emotional wreck if she ever learned that. So, why wouldn't Deia make a new one?
The color in Wesley's face started to connect each terrible piece of the puzzle into a picture that he never wanted to see. His eyes, his breath, the inability to transform into a dragon, his pathetic control over magic, and this constant empty feeling. They were all signs that he was a rushed attempt at recreating the real thing. He wasn't... No. No. No! Wesley cursed at himself mentally as tears started to blur the edges of his vision. His emotions running wild once again as he was hit with a possibility that he had a hard time denying. The mana scars upon his chest started to glow brighter beneath his suit. He couldn't stop it this time. So distraught that he couldn't even notice Aella was starting to fall much less hold back the volatile power within. A pulse rushed through the area once again. Strands of magic being pushed and pulled upon to create a new spell.
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████
✖✖✖
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx
xxxxx
『 With a taste of a poison paradise 』
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Posted: Fri Mar 29, 2024 8:09 pm
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Levi…That name…his name. His dream when he was younger was to have that name go down in history-to be immortalized as an exalted figure that made epics of heroes and legends sound as interesting as a listless retail worker trying to sell you on something uninteresting and unneeded like a new toilet bowl cleaner….or maybe a nose trimmer. He wanted that name to be revered and envied…and the stories behind it to be contagiously vaunted across the worlds. Funny how things change… because hearing it come from her lips just made him feel empty…and so he ignored it-for now. He had no time to let himself wallow in the past that was lost…no time to let it cripple him. Only bubble blowing babies let that happen. His attention, however, would be stolen from the swordsman’s audacity soon enough.
Zenith wasn’t a fool; he knew very well that it was impossible to convince the Devil to see things from his point of view…though even that impossibility felt within reach compared to trying to run with the others or even combat the infernal lord. Still, he had to consider everything…he harshly measured the fractions of a second it would take to reach Aella and Mephitis before he was neutralized in some way…yet each and every scenario he executed in his mind was met with the harsh reality that he simply couldn’t have things the way he wanted. His jaw flexed and his hazel eyes bore into the heterochromatic orbs within the devil’s eyes, refusing to show weakness or hesitation as his space was impeded on. ”They are targets, marks of an organization that is-...”
Before he could finish, he noticed that he was being completely ignored…and that the Devil had turned away from him to look over his shoulder. ”Fu**ing hell,” The blonde haired man cursed under his breath as he witnessed the beginnings of an unavoidable episode of the Aella and her dynamic dunces. That was when Zen noticed the young elementalist begin to waver, her balance robbed from her by a mysterious headache. At around the same time, the late dragon king's eyes began to grow glossy and reflective with moisture. What was happening right now!? Levi had some context though. He knew how memories of the past bled into Aella’s mind and rendered her unconscious…probably because he was himself this time-that was annoying. Last thing he needed was for her to remember more s**t…and then there was a change that even Zenith wouldn’t be able to see…the way the chords of arcana began to grow wild and unpredictable all around them.
Levi’s multicolored eyes changed…a deep and ominous crimson bleeding from the edges as it became the backdrop to his infernal slit irises as he acted without hesitation. The first thing that happened was the way Aella’s plummeting velocity halted before her pretty face could be altered by the floor. Her form bobbled with a slight bounce that was intended to be a buffer for comfort…versus the jarring and abrasive way a complete stop would have been. After that, he looked to Mephitis. He had been told of this boy’s prodigious arcane ability, but this…he hadn’t seen anybody like this since the fall of the last Omniarch in the lost reality of his origins-an arcana that he thought was extinct until now. Buuuuuut, it also looked like this kid was extremely under qualified to be responsible with that kind of power judging from the volatile way he disturbed the surrounding mana-or rather the way it echoed his fractured emotions as if it were part of him. So, Levi was going to ‘push’ this idiot with enough kinetic force to send him a mile away…through the house of course. ”Why must I be surrounded by morons,” he murmured…but just before he managed to do so, Zenith warped right in front of Mephitis.
While the past golem couldn’t ‘see’ the disturbance in the surrounding magic, he could tell that something was amiss from experience. The music in the club…the random pile of riches…all of it gave him this impression of a time long ago when the dragon had conjured a flood that endangered so many people. If his theory was correct…and the glowing marks under his attire that coincidentally roared to life as he grew emotionally unstable was a sign that Mephitis had somehow regressed back to that state…then he couldn’t afford to keep him around Aella or Milo…even if The Devil was there. That being was too selfish to be predictable. At that moment, Zenith would attempt to warp a couple miles away from the residence along with the dragon…which would leave the Devil with an unconscious girl and a petrified deer boy who had just made it to the door of his room.
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