Lore N. Fables
Demigod
Inner Sanctum Nobility
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had wanted to post something written specifically for this challenge, but alas, the time and Muse were not willing to work with me, sooooo, I decided to post something I want to pick back up again, eventually, possibly with a new partner/approach. We'll see, amiright? This was the last reply to one of the RP's I had started when I had first come to this site. Aurora Crestblade was the main character in a book I had started to write but decided to use her in a roleplay to flesh her out a wee bit more. I was seriously proud of this reply and even though it was left unanswered, it is still one of my favourite stories and characters to play with. In this scene, Arnon has a meeting with his demon and Rory takes a nap. (You'll see.) If anyone is interested in reading the full story that had been written, the story is parked HERE. Thank you to those who took the time to read this and I hope that everyone has an amazing day!
~ Lore
Trith'tidan raged when Arnon informed him of the girl's disappearance. Arnon had been using every tracking spell he could think of to find her, drained at least a half dozen witches, and... Nothing. She'd vanished off the face of the globe.
"What did I tell you," the demon hissed harshly. "What would happen if she were to find The Chosen? Do you remember?"
Arnon's heart would have stopped in his chest if it were still beating, but remembering that the demon only had the power to come forth because he had willed it, not to mention his recent power gain thanks to his pissed off patron, gave him the bravado to continue.
"Even if the bitch happened across this myth, I would siphon their power before they even knew what happened, and then have dinner. For all we know, she's dead," Arnon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Though he would have much rather done the job himself, ending the Crestblade line for good. A cool blast washed over him as though someone had thrown him into the Arctic as he felt the demon's voice pierce his ears.
"If she were dead," the demon hissed menacingly, inching closer to Arnon with his gnarled finger pointing at him. "I would have felt her passing. Each of the souls connected to you, be it one you've killed, turned, or in her case, tainted," Trith'tidan hissed annunciating each word pressing the finger into his chest. "I would have... felt... her descent. You... will... Fix... THIS!"
"Y- yes..." Arnon stammered, his face contorted in a mix of pain and fear. With each poke of the demon's finger, it punctured his chest, breaking the bone underneath it. The skin of the demon was coated in an acidic substance that burned through his flesh like a hot blade through butter. The unwholesome effluvia of sulfur and rotting flesh filled the room in a most unpleasant manner as the demon's anger rose. "I- I will make sure the problem is fixed, my liege."
"Make sure... that... you do..." a malicious whisper crackled out as the demon evanesce into a thick black smoke tinged with a scarlet red afterglow.
"Son of a..." Arnon said breathily, almost in relief as the demon disappeared. He never could get used to the feeling of it leaving, as it was almost the creature opening a portal straight to Hell every time they appeared or vanished. Now, he was pissed, his mind running over the possible escapes or spells she must have used in order to hide from him.
"I will find you, Aurora, my sweet, and when I do, you will wish you had of come to me willingly." He was seething, walking out of the altar room. "That bitch will pay!"
The soft tenor timbre of the male's voice sounded again. Though the words were uttered clumsily, they were said with a desperate purpose. The voice sounded so familiar, almost as if it were from a dream. Still looking into the grey foggy distance in front of her, finally making out a figure.
A young man, his head down and eyes closed as the words hummed out of him. Her eyes widening, her focus snapped to, and she remembered who he was, where she really was, and her purpose for being here.
"Lucus... No," Rory breathed. Her father's form dissipated like a ghost, leaving behind a swirling grey mist. She jumped to her feet and started to run in his direction, spying out of the corner of her eye, her sleeping form, a duvet covering her now. Lucas' bedroom, but not his bedroom, only the bed where her physical body lay slumbering, and Lucas with his vial practising magic he didn't understand yet.
"Nine Hell's Rory!" She yelled at herself. She was trapped, unable to wake, and only to watch as the young fool tried to kill himself. Not that he even had an inkling of what he was doing, which she would remedy as soon as she was able to leave.
She had no choice but to wait for his little experiment to end. If she tried to use magic now, she would run the risk of interfering with his spell and it would cost her not only his magic but hers as well. Panic ripped through her as she watched, her heart pounding within her ribcage, sweat starting to bead up around her forehead and upper lip. Watching this was almost as bad as watching someone trying to stake themselves. Without proper focus, he could draw magic not only from himself, but from the entire room, and from the look on his face, his concentration was just on the act of drawing magic in general.
"Damn it Lucus, you bloody fool! Please, stop this madness," she pleaded, knowing it wouldn't do any good. She silently prayed to the goddess for him to stop what he was doing before it was too late. It seemed to have worked because he smiled when he looked at the vial he held in his hand. He set the vial down on the desk and not even a full minute later, Rory saw him collapse to the floor.
"About fucking time," she muttered walking over to where her sleeping form rested. She had almost made it, her hand outstretched when a huge figure, wearing a black robe that seemed to sway on its own appeared, blocking her way. The robe itself looked more like a thick black cloud that floated around the form that had materialized from nothingness. Scarlet whisps flicked out at the edges of the ebony cloud that seemed to carry with it a putrid scent of sulfur and rotting flesh. Nausea gripped her as she doubled over with the smell and the feeling of Hell not too far behind this entity. A gnarled hand reached out and pointed its black clawed digit in her direction.
"I... Know... You...," it hissed, sending a horrific shiver down her spine. She knew that tone, but she didn't know how it knew her. Aurora didn't dabble with demons, knowing them to be fickle, tricksy bastards that will do anything and everything to deceive the one summoning it.
Rory crawled on her hands and knees, trying desperately to make it to her body, needing the connection in order to break free from the Ether Realm. Her vision blurred making it difficult to see where the hell she was reaching, but she needed out of there. The demon, though not in the realm it should be, could prove to be a true hazard to her soul if she didn't get back. Now.
She must have somehow managed to touch her foot, silently thanking herself for always sleeping with her boots off the bed, because the next breath was sulfur-free. Her eyes snapped open and she immediately threw back the blanket, running over to Lucas' unconscious form.
"Lucas!" She knelt down beside him, raising his head and placing it in her lap. Looking over at the vial, she reached her hand over and snatched it from the desk. Holding the vial in one hand, she placed the other over Lucas' forehead and started to chant.
"Magicae ad vos revertetur," she whispered repeatedly. Her brows furrowing in concentration, slight nausea she'd felt in the Ether was returning. Though, she'd pushed that thought away and continued to focus on Lucas.
She paused for a moment when she felt his head move to the side on its own and a groan that had escaped him. He was starting to wake. "Thank the Goddess," she breathed. "When you wake fully, Lucas Gallows, you will get a fucking earful! And then another bloody lecture for turning me into a schoolmarm!"
~ Lore
~~~Sighisora, Transylvania September 15,1886~~~
Trith'tidan raged when Arnon informed him of the girl's disappearance. Arnon had been using every tracking spell he could think of to find her, drained at least a half dozen witches, and... Nothing. She'd vanished off the face of the globe.
"What did I tell you," the demon hissed harshly. "What would happen if she were to find The Chosen? Do you remember?"
Arnon's heart would have stopped in his chest if it were still beating, but remembering that the demon only had the power to come forth because he had willed it, not to mention his recent power gain thanks to his pissed off patron, gave him the bravado to continue.
"Even if the bitch happened across this myth, I would siphon their power before they even knew what happened, and then have dinner. For all we know, she's dead," Arnon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Though he would have much rather done the job himself, ending the Crestblade line for good. A cool blast washed over him as though someone had thrown him into the Arctic as he felt the demon's voice pierce his ears.
"If she were dead," the demon hissed menacingly, inching closer to Arnon with his gnarled finger pointing at him. "I would have felt her passing. Each of the souls connected to you, be it one you've killed, turned, or in her case, tainted," Trith'tidan hissed annunciating each word pressing the finger into his chest. "I would have... felt... her descent. You... will... Fix... THIS!"
"Y- yes..." Arnon stammered, his face contorted in a mix of pain and fear. With each poke of the demon's finger, it punctured his chest, breaking the bone underneath it. The skin of the demon was coated in an acidic substance that burned through his flesh like a hot blade through butter. The unwholesome effluvia of sulfur and rotting flesh filled the room in a most unpleasant manner as the demon's anger rose. "I- I will make sure the problem is fixed, my liege."
"Make sure... that... you do..." a malicious whisper crackled out as the demon evanesce into a thick black smoke tinged with a scarlet red afterglow.
"Son of a..." Arnon said breathily, almost in relief as the demon disappeared. He never could get used to the feeling of it leaving, as it was almost the creature opening a portal straight to Hell every time they appeared or vanished. Now, he was pissed, his mind running over the possible escapes or spells she must have used in order to hide from him.
"I will find you, Aurora, my sweet, and when I do, you will wish you had of come to me willingly." He was seething, walking out of the altar room. "That bitch will pay!"
~~~~Boston, Mass. Present Day~~~~
"Vocavi te, magicae," Rory heard a man's voice whisper in the distance as she cradled her father's head in her lap as he continued to bleed out, his life long since ended, the creature they had been hunting, gone from this place. Trying to clear the tears that still streamed down her dirty, blood-spattered cheeks, as she looked off into the dreary distance.
The soft tenor timbre of the male's voice sounded again. Though the words were uttered clumsily, they were said with a desperate purpose. The voice sounded so familiar, almost as if it were from a dream. Still looking into the grey foggy distance in front of her, finally making out a figure.
A young man, his head down and eyes closed as the words hummed out of him. Her eyes widening, her focus snapped to, and she remembered who he was, where she really was, and her purpose for being here.
"Lucus... No," Rory breathed. Her father's form dissipated like a ghost, leaving behind a swirling grey mist. She jumped to her feet and started to run in his direction, spying out of the corner of her eye, her sleeping form, a duvet covering her now. Lucas' bedroom, but not his bedroom, only the bed where her physical body lay slumbering, and Lucas with his vial practising magic he didn't understand yet.
"Nine Hell's Rory!" She yelled at herself. She was trapped, unable to wake, and only to watch as the young fool tried to kill himself. Not that he even had an inkling of what he was doing, which she would remedy as soon as she was able to leave.
She had no choice but to wait for his little experiment to end. If she tried to use magic now, she would run the risk of interfering with his spell and it would cost her not only his magic but hers as well. Panic ripped through her as she watched, her heart pounding within her ribcage, sweat starting to bead up around her forehead and upper lip. Watching this was almost as bad as watching someone trying to stake themselves. Without proper focus, he could draw magic not only from himself, but from the entire room, and from the look on his face, his concentration was just on the act of drawing magic in general.
"Damn it Lucus, you bloody fool! Please, stop this madness," she pleaded, knowing it wouldn't do any good. She silently prayed to the goddess for him to stop what he was doing before it was too late. It seemed to have worked because he smiled when he looked at the vial he held in his hand. He set the vial down on the desk and not even a full minute later, Rory saw him collapse to the floor.
"About fucking time," she muttered walking over to where her sleeping form rested. She had almost made it, her hand outstretched when a huge figure, wearing a black robe that seemed to sway on its own appeared, blocking her way. The robe itself looked more like a thick black cloud that floated around the form that had materialized from nothingness. Scarlet whisps flicked out at the edges of the ebony cloud that seemed to carry with it a putrid scent of sulfur and rotting flesh. Nausea gripped her as she doubled over with the smell and the feeling of Hell not too far behind this entity. A gnarled hand reached out and pointed its black clawed digit in her direction.
"I... Know... You...," it hissed, sending a horrific shiver down her spine. She knew that tone, but she didn't know how it knew her. Aurora didn't dabble with demons, knowing them to be fickle, tricksy bastards that will do anything and everything to deceive the one summoning it.
Rory crawled on her hands and knees, trying desperately to make it to her body, needing the connection in order to break free from the Ether Realm. Her vision blurred making it difficult to see where the hell she was reaching, but she needed out of there. The demon, though not in the realm it should be, could prove to be a true hazard to her soul if she didn't get back. Now.
She must have somehow managed to touch her foot, silently thanking herself for always sleeping with her boots off the bed, because the next breath was sulfur-free. Her eyes snapped open and she immediately threw back the blanket, running over to Lucas' unconscious form.
"Lucas!" She knelt down beside him, raising his head and placing it in her lap. Looking over at the vial, she reached her hand over and snatched it from the desk. Holding the vial in one hand, she placed the other over Lucas' forehead and started to chant.
"Magicae ad vos revertetur," she whispered repeatedly. Her brows furrowing in concentration, slight nausea she'd felt in the Ether was returning. Though, she'd pushed that thought away and continued to focus on Lucas.
She paused for a moment when she felt his head move to the side on its own and a groan that had escaped him. He was starting to wake. "Thank the Goddess," she breathed. "When you wake fully, Lucas Gallows, you will get a fucking earful! And then another bloody lecture for turning me into a schoolmarm!"
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