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Post by King Cel on Apr 5, 2010 18:20:24 GMT -5
Twisted trees rose in a gray mass, protruding into the dark “sky” that hung heavily above the Unseelie Court. The master of the domain lifted his head to the artificial moon and drew a light breath in through his nostrils, which flared as if inhaling some great substance. The King had been restless, his court moved at the languid pace of a sloth and for a sidhe prince who was known his wild side that would never do.
He pushed himself up from the green marble throne, the living roses that had lain strewn over his lap like household pets coming to life and slithering away with a sound that more reminiscent of snakes than vines. Cel moved downward, descending from the throne into the court that was all but empty. His black leather shoes clicked loudly against the Unseelie hard floor, the sound echoing off the walls and carrying throughout the cavern. He peered around, wide blue eyes scanning the premises like a deranged animal. He smiled wickedly “, I know you’re here, don’t make me come and find you.” He said unsure of exactly who he was speaking to.
He continued forward his head scanning the courtyard for anyone who might be passing by. It was as if Cel was playing his own twisted game of hide and seek, a game where he was the seeker and everyone else, unbeknownst to them, was the hider.
Cel was incredibly handsome. His hair was pulled back in a slick fashion while a small amount of stubble adorned his angular face so despite the fact his features appeared delicate and pristine; there was a hint of masculinity to him. He was dressed like a well-to-do human; a dark black suit with a dark blue shirt underneath that matched his eyes perfectly, unbuttoned just enough to expose the Celtic braid necklace hanging from his throat. Cel wasn’t overly tall either, he stood at six feet, possibly a pinch more, and that was with the most perfect posture. He wasn’t large like a warrior so it was safe to say that Cel didn’t appear to be much more than the run of the mill sidhe. Yet his aura was alarming…almost predatory as he moved through the court that night.
Make no mistake one didn’t become the King of the Darkling Throng for nothing. Cel had fought tooth and nail for that position, and the blood stained bastard sword that hung from his scabbard told the tale. Whoever Cel encountered tonight would be in the presence of a worthy opponent, the only question was who wanted to challenge the Unseelie King? |
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Post by Alecto on Apr 5, 2010 22:45:20 GMT -5
THIS IS WHO I AM [/color][/FONT]
YOU FIGURED IT OUT, DIDN’T YOU
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/color][/center][/FONT]
Shadows, and light.
The tigress lay amongst the trees, sensing the delicate heat of moonlight as it flitted, never resting, over her body like a swarm of throbbing moths. It was the literal light of the literal moon, somewhere in the vast outside Unseelie walls, and beneath it the literal breeze blew hard and soft in varying shades of cool. She was awake, as she nearly always was, but in that state just before sleep in which reality shifts into one endless moment, sweeping out to devour every instant of past and future, and one’s earthly body blends with the air around it. Being as it was, this moment corresponded to an unknown length of time in the fully conscious world. No one had been present to document her half-awareness, and while in her prowling travels she had observed the slow upward stretch of the natural canopy above her, the number of years she had been withdrawn could have been in the tens, or thousands. Such was the trial of an immortal alone, born of these shadows, this night.
But something had summoned her out of her living dream. Something had stirred in the darkness and reached out to her -- a thought not her own, perhaps, or the fear of unsuspecting prey. Alecto rose to her feet and slunk through the forest, barely noticing the shift from outdoors to in, what with the carefully tended and sinister Unseelie grove rising up from the cavern’s floors to cast the illusion of nature. Natural, or unnatural...Alecto was neither and both, though she began to be conscious of herself, at least. She was matter and space, fur and fangs, flesh and Sidhe light. Her wicked talons clicked faintly on the polished evergreen floor.
I know you’re here, don’t make me come and find you.
The words spoken have a power unlike words thought, and Alecto stopped to take these in, to breathe these in, to swallow them and digest. She was all appetites and no logic, hungry to hear a voice for reasons she could not explain and yet unable, in her slow journey back to reality, to translate the syllables. The pelt across her shoulders quivered as she lowered herself into a predator’s stalking prowl, and ventured further toward the owner of the voice. She could hear him, and smell him, and otherwise sense him...but not see him. Not yet. The kingdom’s hallways opened before her, path appearing like unwound ribbon and rolling back up behind, erasing all possibility of return.
Alecto did not hide in ignorance, exactly, if hide is what she did. There was no significance in the way she approached the Darkling king; it was a simple predator and prey relationship, for everything was prey to the feline until she had determined otherwise. But otherwise he was, as she rounded a bend and beheld him up ahead, gleaming with the light of perfect blood, blood that would burn rather than slake her endless thirst. A memory flickered and spread. She felt herself solidify in this place, and wondered, vaguely, where she was. Her posture straightened, and she stepped forward into his view, seating herself a stone’s throw from his sword. A purr that was close to a growl vibrated down through her paws -- the only form of greeting she could recall.
Hello, Dark one, It said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [/FONT]
SO YOU LEFT ME ON MY OWN
TO COMPLETE THE MISSION[/color][/FONT] I’M GOING HUNTING[/center] |
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Post by King Cel on Apr 6, 2010 11:50:27 GMT -5
No one had seen the king of the Unseelie smile in such a way before as he did when the Bengal tiger emerged from the darkness. Like a woman would do Cel swept a strand of hair behind his ear and glanced towards the approaching beast. The scene was an odd one with a man standing toe to toe with a tiger who was much larger than he without so much as discomfort; in fact Cel’s posture portrayed the exact opposite of discomfort as he stood, head cocked to the side and weight shifted to one knee, in a way that was almost casual, nonchalant. All the sidhe prince was missing was a drink in his hand and he’d be the perfect image of a playboy.
The Unseelie king’s smile wavered after a moment and turned into a smirk as he eyed up the beast. A part of him was intrigued by the fae’s decision to approach him in mantel form but most of him was irritated by the air of mystery that surrounded the stranger. In his kingdom Cel didn’t like mystery, the land obeyed him and therefore he should know all.
Yet the patriarch wasn’t about to scare the faerie away with a show of power just yet, frightening his court had always been Cel’s preferred method of ruling but there was only a certain amount of exposure you could afford before the court turned on you or left. For better or for worse Cel was planning on being a good boy, at least for now, and that was good news to any one he encountered. He lifted his hand to his mouth as parted lips drew an elongated yawn from within. Once more he brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, but this strand seemed to be much more of an idiosyncrasy than an actual problem.
”You come before your king in the form of illusion and fur. Please, show yourself.”
He simply said as he dropped his hand to his side in a voice that did not even border on being a threat or a command, but a simple request. The faerie King’s manners had always been impeccable when it came to dealing with his court, especially other sidhe, as he suspected this faerie was. But despite his words and tone Cel’s gaze was an entirely different story. Swirling eyes of mauve, blues, and purples remained fixed on the tiger in a fashion that seemed more menacing than Cel would let on. For the King of Ruin and Souls was always a menacing brute despite the fact he might not have looked the part. So he spoke again, his tone unchanged but this time his words reflecting exactly what he wanted.
”I command it.”
He grinned, please followed by I command it, it might not have made sense but they were the words of a king and he thoroughly enjoyed them. |
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Post by Alecto on Apr 6, 2010 21:49:15 GMT -5
THIS IS WHO I AM [/color][/FONT]
YOU FIGURED IT OUT, DIDN’T YOU
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/color][/center][/FONT]
Beast and Fae squared off in the underground, momentarily silent. While neither expressed particular discomfort or fear, two Sidhe never met each other without some sense of tension -- there was always too much power, too much history in the room to preclude the possibility of conflict. But with the King on his best behavior, and the Lady so far removed from politics and ego, the threat of an explosion seemed minimal here. Perhaps in a past life she would have been grateful, had she known that he checked his worse inclinations on her account, but as things were she was merely alive: fear, pain, sorrow were all experiences as much as pleasure and joy. The things they all had most in common were inevitable ends. She would have suffered beneath his pair of cruel hands, to be sure, but without the clarity of consciousness required to remember the punishment.
The tigress tilted her head curiously as the voice appeared again, eyes closing to allow each note to roll over her mind. It was heaven; it was music. How many aeons had passed since she last enjoyed a faerie’s speech? And yet, here stood the Unseelie king, speaking as if it were nothing, as if it were anything but rhythm and sound. Alecto knew without question that it had been his thoughts that had called to her, but did not dwell on the significance of the evocation. She would gratify him -- why wouldn’t she? -- and do what she could with words of her own. Though his request that she shed the skin she had become used to, the one that felt primary to her now, seemed arbitrary in this place, she stepped out of it as she might out of a favorite garment, assuming her faerie shape and rising to stand in one fluid gesture.
All trace of copper and gold condensed into her glittering irises, leaving the liquid pale of Sidhe skin absent of every imperfection, save those inflicted by choice. These were few -- the mark of her mantle across her lower back, some words of power inscribed on her left shoulder, a trail of symbols that spangled her right thigh. Black tresses interspersed with bronze hung wild about the woman’s angular face, seeming to move willfully in the eerie, subterranean breeze. A slip the color of withered grass wound round her neck, spilled across her chest and wrapped finally across her hips, leaving little to the imagination. She was beautiful, perhaps, but primordial; a body made for hunger, a soul made for hunting. Her gaze was unrelenting as she glanced over her counterpart without ceremony, stopping finally at his violet eyes.
“As you wish,” she answered softly, as if speaking a foreign language. She accepted the statement that he was her King and there were commands to be made as if they were commentary on the weather. To rule, to be ruled -- these were distinctions imposed by the rational animal, and while Alecto had reclaimed some control over her voice, her reason still alluded her.
“I am Alecto.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [/FONT]
SO YOU LEFT ME ON MY OWN
TO COMPLETE THE MISSION[/color][/FONT] I’M GOING HUNTING[/center] |
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Post by King Cel on Apr 7, 2010 22:27:18 GMT -5
Cel’s face twisted into one of satisfaction as the form of a tiger melted away, replaced by the glorious stature of a sidhe woman. It was the beauty that would’ve been startling to a human’s eyes, to be honest, and Cel knew it. As he took in Alecto’s image, drinking it in he knew very well what beauty stood before him, but he did not comment on it. Compliments were for the weak and the insecure, he would not allow such types in his court and therefore he merely crossed his arms over his chest; a gesture that showed he was happy with her response to his “request”.
The sidhe’s gaze faltered momentarily, drifting to the rustling sound of the Unseelie roses that moved like living creatures across the hard floor of the cavern. A wicked look danced across his face as he imagined the things the roses could do to the woman if he so wished it, oh the tantalizing grip of power, he thought as he allowed his mind to wonder about his darkest fantasies. But it wasn’t long that Cel’s mind remained preoccupied for as a cool wind blew across the courtyard his attention was immediately brought back to the present. The night was still slightly chilly and the moon still cast an eerie glow, a reminder that things didn’t stop just because the King chose not to take notice.
Her voice found his ears like a foreign language or lyrics sung out of tune as his face contorted in displeasure for only a split second. The Prince of Ruination and Souls wasn’t sure if he had heard right; had the woman chose to forgo a proper greeting when meeting the king for the first time? Such insolence had never been tolerated amongst rulers of the past, and certainly not now. Just as Cel was about to allow his anger to get the best of him a thought occurred to him; was this woman truly disrespecting him or did she lack the knowledge on formality? Deciding he did not have enough information to dole out a punishment he chose to push the conversation along at a civil pace, his face morphing back into the smug one that seemed to be right at him on the sidhe male.
”Well Alecto, I am King Cel, Prince of Ruination and Souls, Master of Façade Illusion, and Fae of Dissolute Conduct. And I am pleased to welcome you to my court.” |
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Post by Alecto on Apr 7, 2010 23:48:59 GMT -5
THIS IS WHO I AM [/color][/FONT]
YOU FIGURED IT OUT, DIDN’T YOU
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/color][/center][/FONT]
Memory: figures draped in velvet and silk, the sparkle of jewels from every available surface, the melody of a string quartet. Memory: blades flashing to the tune of repressed laughter, chains cracking against rock, against bone. Memory: hands that caressed, eyes that devoured, and mouths that spoke names ornamented by tradition.
Alecto realized her mistake the moment her King responded to her, delivering the extended title which any Fae in society would have recited automatically. She felt no embarrassment -- she had lived too long, suffered and tortured too often to feel real shame -- but the sudden consciousness that she may have offended came like an emotion felt vicariously, an awareness not her own. She forced a slight curtsy, which managed to appear graceful despite how awkward and staged it felt, and averted her gaze in an imitation of social integrity. Something in her recollection was telling her it may be unfit to look this man directly in the eye.
“Ah, I apologize, King Cel of Souls and Ruination -- I have been asleep a long time, it seems,” she murmured, her voice ever soft as slowly moving water, her posture suspended in that elegant half-bow. “I should have more appropriately introduced myself to you as Princess of Darkness, and Mistress of Slight Illusion. Your welcome is a gift I have not earned.”
Alecto listened to herself speak as if she were hearing someone else’s words slipping past her lips. What was this language she spoke, with its precision and formality, its consonants devoid of passion? She stifled a growl at the unfamiliar sensation of vocalizing without intense emotional stimulation; the thrill of a chase, perhaps, or the grasp of a mate. It was as if the tigress had been possessed by some articulate demon that forced the creature within her into submission. She was no longer used to being governed by social mores and convention, and a great part of her revolted against this imposition.
But another part of her was reveling in its rebirth, and felt a wash of affection for this man that had inadvertently conceived her.
“May I be so bold as to ask for the tale of your victories, that have earned you the blade by your side?” The Voice was escaping her again, and Alecto straightened, finding that she sounded less and less like herself with each passing phrase. The darkness behind her shivered imperceptibly, and her senses reached out to snare the sounds of rustling leaves -- anything to secure an escape route, if necessary....and if she could tear herself away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [/FONT]
SO YOU LEFT ME ON MY OWN
TO COMPLETE THE MISSION[/color][/FONT] I’M GOING HUNTING[/center] |
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Post by King Cel on Apr 8, 2010 15:43:02 GMT -5
The pleased look on Cel’s face could’ve been spotted for miles, for as Alecto curtsied and offered her extended title Cel felt a twinge of satisfaction. The woman had acknowledged that she was subordinate to him without much effort on his part, something that seemed to make him very happy every time it happened. Cel could’ve been the King of the Unseelie for ten thousand years and he would never get tired to being reminded that next to the Fate Skylla he was the most powerful being in Eclapon. Even more so than the Seelie Queen, whose skill he had never appreciated much.
Alecto didn’t appear to be the talkative type. He had figured a woman with beauty that even a sidhe would envy would be arrogant, haughty, or at least prideful; this woman seemed to be none of those things. In fact, the woman had apologized and openly admitted her wrong doing, something that not many sidhe fae did even in the presence of a king. Her ways puzzled him and for the Darkling lord to be puzzled brought mixed emotions to him. He was amused but at the same time annoyed.
Cel shifted his weight slightly as the woman straightened. Though she hadn’t intentionally made herself taller but the posture that was now instilled in her frame put her alarmingly close to the male’s height. He adjusted himself so he could stand taller. Cel had always been self-conscious about his height for he stood no more than six feet tall, a height that was somewhat short for a sidhe male. As he stood before Alecto he felt the urge to appear taller, something that the perfect posture he learned as Unseelie royalty came in handy for. Yet despite the fact that the sidhe’s posture might’ve given him an extra inch he still never felt like he was inside the body of an all powerful king.
Alecto’s voice sounded again, something he was not expecting for the woman didn’t seem to be entirely comfortable with conversation. The question she asked irked him, who was she to ask of his past deeds? Did she not believe he was worthy of such a weapon? Oh the insolence of the new fae. Nonetheless his touch fell to the hilt of the sword that was crafted from dark goblin steel. The cold touch was very familiar to him and he seemed at home when his hand wrapped around the shimmering weapon. He drew the blade effortlessly, just the way he had done a thousand times before.
”The deeds of a warrior are often passed down and distorted beyond recognition. I fear the recollection of my past may not do it justice.”
He left it at that as he noticed her reaction to the rustling in the corner. His smirk became more pronounced ,”They are the roses, the pride of the Unseelie. They and live and breathe just as we do, and serve me as a loyal member of the court.” His voice was soft as he gave the eerie explanation without sounding even the slightest bit boastful at all. |
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