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Log: August 8th, 2017

THE AWESOME L

If Ember was good at anything she was good at finding the right time at the right place.  Boston often happened to have those instances more than most places.  Sometimes it was because the underbelly of the city was so prevalent and mixed so easily with the politics of the city.  Wherever there was greed and an unfettered need for power Ember would always feel at home.   There was always someone willing to sign away their souls or be indebted to the demon in order to get what they wanted.

Souls and favors weren't really the only way she found the city profitable.  Glory was another.  With the supernatural community running so deep why not offer a place that they could exist freely? Only those of the supernatural community could pass by the two bouncers that were always at the post during open hours.  Humans, from time to time, found themselves inside the club's walls but only if there was someone to vouch for them.  Those that vouched for the mundane were responsible for them the moment they walked through the door to the moment they left. Any problems a human might possibly create or become involved in fell upon the shoulder of those that brought them.The outside of the club was nondescript but inside it was different.  The colors she chose were red in hue, though whenever it amused her she would shift the lights to a blue.  Tonight, however, they were the usual red. The doors had just opened, but no one graced the establishment yet except the staff that looked sharp in black on black. Every aspect from shoes, to skirts, to dresses, it was all black.  The only thing that wasn't black was the golden pin that in the shape of her particular demon mark.

Ember, however, was clad in red.  It not only matched the lighting of the club but it was a nice contrast against the natural olive hue of her flesh and dark hair.   The raven crowned woman had her hair piled high in an elegant bun that only added to the visual that made it clear Ember was...,expensive.  Every item she had upon her curves was clearly not off the rack of a department store.   The red bottom stilettos clicked sharply against the tiled flooring as she moved from the bar towards the doors.  She wanted to have a few words with the bouncers as slowly people began to trickle in.

The bartender had an emergency that called her away, which meant Ember was going to cover the bar until the backup came in so anything they needed would have to be relayed via messenger.

http://www.jlhjewelry.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/knot-crescent_big.jpg

[ dis the pin ]

Aaron (aka Ashur Hart)

It was one of those nights. One of those long ones that never seem to stop, that sets in early, and doesn't let up. The darkness seemed almost physical, sucking in anyone that dared walk after hours. It always felt that way the closer one got to Glory. Or so Ashur felt. Business brought the stranger that way, although he did find the pleasures there tempting he always kept his head up and his eyes sharp. He stood there for a long moment, at the door, staring up at the brickwerk and the bright neon sign. He breathed in slow and let it out slower. The man had a sensible jacket, black that went well with the dress shirt beneath it. He wore dark dress pants and shoes, dressing appropriate for the setting. The man's hair was cut short all around, barely peach fuzz on the side and a short mohawk down the middle. His eyes were dark brow, knife sharp, and a long scar ran down his lip on the left side. He took the time to get a quick smoke. Leaning against one wall, pulling out the paper pack of cigarettes slower. He was trying to quite. Terrible fucking habit. He lit it and savored the warmth at his finger tips. He dragged slow at the filter and basked in that warmth that filled him. Exhale: smoke filling his field of view for a brief moment before dissolving in the cool night air. "This it?" He whispered softly to no one. He paused and tilted his head, listening to something that did not speak. "Hm...she here then?"Again the night said nothing but he turned his gaze to the left, and then the right. Looking for something that should not be before finishing his smoke. The man pulled out a small pouch, plastic and dropped the spent bud into it before sealing and placing it back in his pocket. "Stay close." He whispered as he made his way to the door. The two bouncers bared his view for a long moment. Their pitted eyes staring down at him, through him, around him. They saw her easy enough. Ashur and Red made it easy to. They had to. It was the only way he was going to get in. She hung over his shoulder like a red haze, like a heat mirage radiating off of him. Red and powerful. The Lady in Red was a woman of indescribably beauty. Her features shrouded by a cloak of the deepest read. Her frame caressed by red silk, her hands and feet stained by blood. Her lips painted crimson and her face obscured by a hood pulled near to her nose. She smirked at the bouncers and placed her hand delicately on Ashur's shoulder. A bloody print stained his dark jacket and marked him as her's. They were bound and both of them Empaths, psychics that could sense, discern, and even sift through the emotions of humanity and even see things that were imprinted by them.Ashur was given the nod and made his way inside with calm measured steps. His heart raced! It always did when he was surrounded by men, women, and creatures that could serrate his skin and tear out his soul if they were not bound by the pact of non-aggression...still though, he was a minority in this place. He kept that in mind as he made his way through the red lit rooms, rich in elegance and atmosphere. He came for work of course. He was tasked with gathering information and specifics. There was one person in this whole world that could give him the details he needed. His own people giving what they could, but sometimes...sometimes they needed something more. "I am looking for Ember." He said to the hostess, Ashur grinned softly, a smile that should have belonged to a man ten years younger, a lifetime ago. He was easy on the eyes, but had a predatory ease in his motions and demenour. Like a survivor would if left on their own too long. "Yay high, super hot, wearing something slinky no doubt." He went on, bantering with the employee before catching the sight of elegance clickign about not all that far away. He turned his head and caught the faintest glimpse of she who he sought. "Never mind, found 'er, thanks bud." He slapped a fifty on the hostess' palm that he held up and pushed off. Making his way over just as she was clicking her way behind the bar "Ms. Ember?" He asks, as though he were not sure. Just taking one look at her made his heart ache, his stomach clench, his eyes fighting to stay above her neck line. "My name is Hart. I need something I think only you can help me with..."(edited)

Jamie Chelle

"That totally sounds like a pick up line," Pink hair, don't care. The words came with a pop of bubblegum disrupting the flow of music, voices, and sound which had crept throughout Glory's interior. Invika Feldstrom was hard to pick out in the sea of beautiful people, which was exactly what seemed to constantly inhabit Glory. Not that she knew that, not that she particularly knew anything of consequence, but that didn't keep that velvety soft, almost rich sounding voice from sliding between a pair of thick, lush lips that had their alluring presence disrupted by a thin piece of metal intersecting the light pink colored flesh. It hadn't been long since Invika had crawled out of the belly of Hel to make her way into the world of mortals and there was still an ounce of culture shock that she was forced to suffer through because of it. The fact that she had turned those translucent blue eyes to settle upon the sight of the mohawk toting male, as well as his companion that had been adorned in red, and spoke exactly what popped up in her mind was either an indicator of her foreign status or that of a teenager that held exactly zero care towards social standards -- though it was easy to assume that it could have very well been both, since both were rather applicable if someone happened to dig into her background. As it were, none would be able to tell that the girl settled upon the barstool had been anything but perfectly human. Her horns had long since been willed away and only the thick strands of long, wavy bubblegum pink hair had tumbled down her slightly curved body as if it were a curtain to mask the black cocktail dress that had lingered in blatant contrast beneath it.Not that it mattered; the male seemed to have his eyes on the prize and once Invika followed his gaze, it was quite the prize. Silently, a miracle within itself, she allowed her eyes to dance around the woman who had been slipping behind the bar. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, and confident in the skin she wore and the motions of her body. Compared to the man, she seemed rather dominant in her positioning but perhaps that was influenced by the fact that he had looked as if he were about to start drooling or stuttering. A thought which had caused the corner of her lips to rise up in a secret sort of smile. People watching was quite entertaining and she, at the very least, sought to endeavor an imaginary conversation between the two individuals if she found herself unable to hear. On the otherside of a bar, a man had settled himself down inside of a booth. Unlike the masses which had danced, dined, and moved to simply exist without having cause or concern towards hiding what they truly were, he had seemed particularly grumpy about being surrounded by the crowd within. With rich blonde hair that looked as if it was first beginning to fade away into the slightest hint of gray hair, and a pair of thin lips that worked in direct contrast with his chiseled jawline, he fit in perfectly as something not quite human. With muscles that were thick along his bare arms and legs that seemed to cause the black fabric of his slack to strain, the first glimpse any might hold of him was that he favored a lycanthrope. Bears, wolves, or perhaps one of the more brutish types, he held an aura of anger and power -- one that was distinctly human, if a person could actually get close enough to view it.The booth he occupied had been filled with men and women of varying degrees and looks, but they all seemed to hold that feel of other to them despite their smell. To any that was associated with a lycanthropic group or held any knowledge of their foundation, they seemed to be that of a pack with how they clustered together and gave any who had approached them an off-putting glare that tended to chase away any that thought to try and usurp their position or their presence. Yet there was one woman among those who had lingered that seemed so small and fragile that she was almost lost in the strength of the others. Her soft brown hair bobbed along her shoulders as she nodded towards the man, with green eyes that seemed to hold an emerald fire to them. She was whispering something to him so quietly that ears, even of the supernatural variety, seemed hard pressed to pick up on what her dark red painted lips had been whispering -- especially with the background being what it had been. Though it was unmistakable how her small, dainty hand rose up to point a finger towards seemingly random individuals that had lumbered around the club before finding it's way back onto the emerald colored dress which had been wrapped tastfully around her body.For Invika, who had only noticed these particular individuals in passing, they seemed particularly boring and equally intriguing. Yet the duo around the bar had managed to both capture and hold her attention long enough for that cluster of stuffy people to be momentarily forgotten.

The Judge

The sound of metal sliding across metal could be heard sourced to the outside of the door, a turning of a left wrist with firm leather-bound digits' secured hold on cast-brass knob to release the latch-bolt from it's lover within the door frame. With the lustful partners separated and a lightly-applied push which sent the door along a hinge-determined path, the soft thuds of weighted leather boots could be heard as the threshold was braved in a single step with as much audacity as the Romans crossing the Rubicon during the conquest of the Gauls. With it's twin to follow, leather strangled the legs like vines stealing the light from flora and disappeared over time beneath the curtaining fall of premium ebon hide. Hovering peacefully at the ankles and remaining closed at the torso with but a mere two buckles locked together, hints of continued theme of black beneath the layer of leather could be seen belonging to a shirt which also appeared to fit closely. Broad shoulders and imposing height of 6'2 and estimated two-twenty or more in weight, from an outward glance, may have best described him from an outward glance. Calculated in gait with each footfall determined some drops before it's time came, purposed to the direction of the bar, sweep of glittering obsidians for a gather of intelligence to surroundings was made without so much as a dedicated turn of the head or single provision of interest. The Glory. So it is. A place he could enter seemingly designated for the occupation of other supernatural beings. Was it a matter of habit that he involved himself inaffairs between mortals and immortald still? A desire for purpose that came with losing one? Perhaps he sought familiarity in similar actions. He was a soldier and questioning what simply was would do little for him. Profane-black tresses hung loose and curtained fair features falsely frail in appearance, the gaze of a reaper on the hunt shifting from person to person and seeking depth, dimension, distance, before satisfaction to some degree left eyes returning to the chosen bar. A stool was procured with a sweeping lift of a left of left, rear situated on the flat plateau of the backless chair for some measure of comfort while booted right rested with heel against crossing board which joined the legs together should a quick ejection be required. Dip of brow in direction of the barkeep for a silent request of an audience. Teeth grit softly within closed mouth held together with expressionless features, felt discomfort experienced with no outwards signs. A drink would hopefully remedy the pressure within, the distant screams which called chaos ordered beneath the world-weight of willpower. Time would tell if it could be suppressed. Time would tell.

THE AWESOME L

The word had been passed, and since Ember wasn't one to suffer idiots for very long her staff was quick on the uptake.  Usually.  If they weren't? Well, they didn't last long in her employment.  The easy east to west swing of her hips had carried her through the people that had already filed through.  It was amazing, really, how quickly the place could go from barren to teeming with people.  Her staff was well prepared, and for the few that were training they were hot on the heels of those Ember had assigned them too. There were two other bartenders working tonight.  One in the smaller bar off to the corner alone because Libby was capable of working a crowded night alone so long as her bar space was limited, and one already behind the bar she was slipping behind. Her name pitched into the air and it caused the gray gaze to shift as her head turned.  Her attention settled on the man with the small female upon his shoulder.  A brow etched heavenward and her head tipped." I am a touch busy, at the moment.  So you either speak while I work or wait.  "  Jessica had been called in and the Were was just as much as a lead foot as Ember was when she decided to slip behind the wheel.  His wait wouldn't be long but.... her caveat was two fold.  One reason was the truth because she was busy, the other was to see just how badly he truly needed her help.  Those that waited, that fretted, that wrung their hands were most likely easy sales.  If he blurted it all out in front of others could mean a lot of things but if he was willing to wait and sweat out the anticipation of the conversation then her chances of walking away just a touch richer in favors, souls, or cash were nearly doubled.

Attention flicked to the woman that seemed to be with him, a small nod. The acknowledgment was all some people really needed.   Then she glanced to the other woman at his side, an interesting thing -- and she gave off the family vibe.

" Do any of you three want something to drink, if not then I move on for now. "  The bodies were already crowding to the bar.  Truth be told Ember hated bartending.  She had to speak to too many people, she had to touch dirty money and make drinks she wanted nothing to do with.  The woes of being an owner.

Aaron (aka Ashur Hart)

Ashur tilted his head softly and arched his brow, his lips curled up in a gentle grin. The gesture was baffling. She basically told him to get to talkin' or get to stepping, and he didn't seem to be any the worse for it. He found her, and that was one firm step foreword. He took the game seriously, took it patiently. He was in no rush so when she laid out her terms he simply nodded. "Sounds fair." He noted. He was dressed like a man on business, he looked like a man just got back from fighting a war, he acted like a man that was right where he wanted to be, but she could see something else with it. Behind those dark knife sharp eyes was a man that had bared the weight of the world on his shoulders and stood the stronger for it. She was indeed the best bet to get what he wanted, but he wasn't in any rush to get it. "My thanks." He noted and nodded his head. "I will be around." He said and turned his head away. "'Scuse me." He bowed his head in thanks to the lady of the house and shifted to make his way somewhere more comfortable. The raised stage in the back, the tablesl ined nicely and decorated intimately, the lights shifting to something softer, more intimate, more quiet.The man's dress shoes made the softest rasp on the tiles, he moved through the thickening crowd without bumping into a soul, without speaking a word, without brushing against another, and without gawking at the myriad of unique individuals. Out of the lot present, he was indeed human, down to the marrow. The Lady in Red floating at his side, behind him, over him, in him. He was wreathed in her presence, in her red haze. She his guardian, powerful and old. Ember looked hard enough she could see the woman bared many similarities to herself, midnight curtains of black silk for hair, curves in the right places the pale shadow of death illuminating her skin. But if she looked closer she could feel the weight of sorrow, longing, reptilian fear radiating off of her, turning all around him away as though Ashur replulsed them. She could see they infact avoided him, feeling a chill in his presence, in HER presence. Deeper still was that mark on his soul. A red print staining his very being. They were bound, that spirit and he. Ember could see it perhaps given her history as a dealer in the very subtance. Others would have a harder time. The man took his seat in a table in the back. Out of the way, his back to the wall, his eyes given a vantage over large swaths of the clientelle. Very cloak and dagger with the swagger that would make a were-kin snicker at. The man was made of masks, one layered over another, showing everyone something different. He sat back, propping his feet up on an opposite chair and watched, waited, and listened.(edited)

Jamie Chelle

Invika hummed softly to herself. Their interaction was short-lived so any distraction she sought to find within them was distinctly lost in those moments. Disappointing but not enough to keep that straw from finding it's way to her lips so that she could take a draw of the cool, crisp liquid that was housed within it. For now she'd remain idle on her barstool, waiting for something else to gather her attention.

"Mojito, please." Hers was almost empty, see.

The Judge

You let me die! WHERE WERE YOU!? The words thundered in his head like war drums. A half-crescent line across a throat attached to a head bearing a face with features all too similar, although more youthful than his own. Ichor-filled glare boiling with rage and spilling over off his tongue which ought to have been sharper than any sword. The rage was understood. His prison, his nightmare. Confronted by not one, but a dozen. While the battle was internal and his walls shook from the intensity, the exterior showed no hint of it. It never did. Broad shoulders were destined to carry a mantle Atlas would have tipped his hat to, so heavy was the weight of his sin. Survivor's guilt. Regrets. Many held them. Few knew the length of his journey. With patience in spite of a lack of acknowledgement on part by those tasked with servicing the bar, he waited with silence akin to the grave even when he was but a piece of shipwrecked debris floating in a sea of living bodies. Sounds occured around him from all directions, each a subtle ripple through the air all but unseen; vibrating with the feint transfer of kinetic energy, the airwaves touched him from all directions like a world unknown to most. For him it was hardly just the sound that reached him with fine-tuned sensitivety comparable to the perception of a spider's web disturbed by contact, but presence and pressure of said presence, the thrum of life like the plucked strings of an instrument and many other factors that painted a world of colors to his unique vision: emotion, presence, sound, scent, touch -- theyregistered in a sort of synesthesia-like overlap of varying shades in many colors of the perceived spectrum, and some not yet discovered. Were the man an artist capable of it, he would long to appreciate the shifting flow. Even the scents of the many drinks the establishment had on display rose, wafted like a thin cloud and saluted him. ...? Snapping from the place his thoughts had seemed to unfortunately trek to afford some focus on the differing shades of colors, the soft orchestra of blending colors vanished with the forced suppression characterized by only the narrowing of his eyes as an outward sign. Again. It was difficult to control.

THE AWESOME L

Ember was happy enough that the man listened to her words and decided he still wanted her help after all.   Which left her realizing perhaps she had been mortal side too long.  If he stayed that meant he truly felt he needed what he wanted help with, some with a rebuke might have a second thought and decided their soul was safer with them.  Not that it was a guarantee that she would ask for a soul.  In fact, she rather preferred favors over souls.  Souls were so sixteenth century.  In modern days favors were more beneficial.   Her thoughts scattered when the woman in front of her responded.  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she gave a nod.  " Mojito.  Got it.  Have we crossed paths before? "  This was asked because if she too was a demon maybe Ember had traversed her plane of hell at some point and time.Once the drink was finished she set it gently in front of the woman.  " Here you go. "  And then she was being waved away as soon as Stephanie slipped behind the bar.  See?  Speed demon, just like her boss.

Jamie Chelle

"Hmm. It's possible. Have you been within Sahan's House?" The empty mojito glass was set upon the bar's top, allowing her to slip the tip of her fingers along the length of where it had jutted from beneath the half-melted cubes of ice. For the second time that evening, Invika allowed her gaze to traverse the length of the woman's body. While part of her presence had reminded her of home, the face was not one that she could easily recognize. Even after staring at it for several minutes after responding. "I've lived in Hel all of my life, so it's very possible. Were you born there also?" Give information, request information. A two way street that she hoped would come easily without having to worry about the ploy of politicking words that demons were known for. She had hoped that the art of non-commital words would no longer be necessary. But, alas, the woman was soon to part and Invika would not have her reply. She did, at least, get her Mojito. Yum!

Aaron (aka Ashur Hart)

Ashur didn't sweat the details of Ember's protocols. She asked him to wait and she he would. He busied himself with discrete servailence. The clientelle were almost exclusively supernaturals of every color and cast. The place thrummed with the voices rising off the sea of patrons. Dark-kin, Were-kin, denizens of the Fae courts, a rare breed of ancient here and there. It was strange, he thought, how so exotic their lives were and yet how it parodied the mundane happenings of the world outside. Out there in that sea of whispers he could make out a few snippets here and there of the various conversations. One woman in a blue dress with the unmistakable beauty and radiance of a woman of the Summer Court droned on about her commute there. One man with an over abundance of body hair and short pronounced fangs jutting up from his upper and lower jaw was bitching to his friend about the tone his wife had when he came home late. One pointed eared young man that looked far too young to be present in a bar was talking phylosophy with a tall lanky green skinned dame in a knock off dress. Just lives being lives, for good or ill they were people too and they made their living like any other...Ashur tilted his head as one conversation not too far from his raised position caught his ear. A pack off to one wall, dominating the space and giving the eerie feel of a kennel of paying hounds eager to slip their bonds, looking for something more than confined spaces. Ashur stood from his chair and made his way around the lounge. Walking in a long slow circle. Getting lost in the crowd was easier than one would think. Everyone was so intent on their own experience that they rarely notice a stranger flittering about in the periphery. The sound of music and voices rising to be heard drowned out what quiet footsteps he did make. The smell of laced cigarettes submerged his natural scent, the body language and gait he adopted made it hard for the eye to be attracted to him. Red's ever hostile presence made the weak willed want to avoid him, to not look his way, to push him so far out of their minds that he minus well have been invisible even if he stood close enough to touch.He wasn't so amateur that he saunted close enough to the pack that they could see him, but he was close enough to feel the edge in their gathering. To reach out with his mind and brush his fingers against their collective thoughts. He sought to steal glimpses at their consciousnce. He wanted to listen to the edge in their voices and make out the words they were whispering. He wanted to know why he had a dread creeping into him when he looked at that girl. The girl with the green eyes and dress. The girl lost in the place she found herself in. He perched near the back, surrounded by patrons gossiping about their loves and lives. Tilting his head softly and closing his eyes as he urged Red to float further, to see through her eyes and listen with her spirit at what set them apart from everyone else in the place.

The Judge

Aknowledged by the woman behind the counter just as a very aesthetically-formed one in a red dress stepped away for an unspecified reason, the identified Stephanie politely asked for his request with a room-lightning smile that did little for him. Her respect and consideration were appropriate for her compensated time and, although there was ample sincerity felt in the expression, it was a service offered. Stoic, nigh-frigid even to the exposure of her warmth, the monotone reply was clear and authoritive, deep and empty. " Three shots of your strongest Scotch. " Some kind of numbing poison to still the quaking of a monster skulking the depths beneath the shell of nigh-beautiful flesh. The natural allure of darker things, devils as he would associate them with was a consequential annoyance which drew far more attention than preferred, a curse of attention. His insides quivered with the knotting, clenching and gnawing therein from proverbial claws and teeth scraping to surface. Even now, even as Stephanie smiled again and worked to pour him a generous amount measured some millimeters higher than the exact amount equivalent to three fingers in height of the bitter liquid, the sensation to tug on her essence was equivalent to a nomad's cracked tongue craving the water it so desperately thrived on in a desert bereft of the basic element. He had been told of consequences to this change, a change that he had not been given any say over. It took time to adjust, would take much more time to adjust fully. The feintly-heard click-click of separated(edited)buckles could be heard as the left hand, gloved, tucked into the interior of the large coat in order to produce a leather wallet and remove the modern day currency. Such a flimbsy method of payment that had so much sway in a greed-ridden world. Disgusting. At least gold had been worth it's weight, however bloody it often proved to be when presented to those with superior senses. There was the soft ripple of pressure from a figure who moved on his feet with the touch of innocent curiousity, the beginning emergence of little wisps of drifting shades of greys and a tether of red joined to a handprint. This caught in the corner of peripheral on the right just as he passed on, the slightest earning of a turn of a head with summoned interest rewarded him with the threatening red female who appeared to float away from him while never truly dividing. ..? A spirit? A guardian? A contract? With so many types of bonds one could have the the unseen, it was difficult to discern yet divinity was not perceived at the moment. Interesting. Not his concern beyond a glance, not yet anyway. The glass lifted and required trio of five dollar bills, folded, were presented to the tender; the price and a little more for her aid. Rim to the lips and up-tilt of the base of clear container, fragility in mind with gentle loose-handed splayed-digit grip of bared right, the contents were polished in two swift lifts to force the liquid to the back of the throat. A thud to the counter came the glass, small dip of the brow in motioning towards it in request for a refill. More bills were produced, this time one worth twenty "dollars". Odd words. When in Rome, do as Roman do. ..but what did a Roman do when out of Rome?(edited)August 9, 2017

Jamie Chelle

Was the night winding up or winding down? Was this the place to go whenever you yearned to meet someone which you could share an inkling of comfort and connection with? Were those who were not demon or human, willing to forgo social standings to bask in one another's presence? How did one move to the music that played overhead? Why were their such low whispers that seemed to have a greater effect on their audience then those that were yelled across the very club seem to have more effect? How did one bond with another? Questions, so many damnable questions. Yet there was none near who could provide an answer to the words which had traipsed around her skull as if they might overwhelm her consciousness and send her spiraling into some sort of mad curiosity. It left the girl in a state where her eyes seemed to fail in finding both rest and purpose as they began sifting, considering, and working their way through the various types of peoples to find one thing to settle on. That one thing which would force the other questions to fall behind and fade so that their sporadic form would no longer overpower her to the point where her shoulders grew tighter and began to pinch together beneath the curtain of soft hair.Her only respite had come when those eyes had settled upon the sight of the group from earlier. While little time had passed, much seemed to have occurred. Nearly half of those who had surrounded the small woman and the larger man had vacated and left the two almost completely alone. It gave the girl a better view of how they interacted with one another; how whenever the man thought that no one was listening, he looked down to the woman at his side and offered her some sort of smile that the girl could not recognize -- not without ever having experienced the weight of emotion that seemed to linger around it's edges. It wasn't only his smile which had garnered her attention either, but there was a particular softness to his chocolate colored eyes, taking away from the hollowness that she had spied earlier. "Hey there," A voice interrupted Invika's thoughts as she quietly dissected the duo, forcing her attention to abandon the assumed lovers to rest on a handsome face. Immediately she could tell that he was one of their group, there was something about the way that he held himself that stood out compared to most of those within the club. A sort of gait to his walk, the subtle lean of his body, the very look in his eyes that seemed to remind the girl of home rather than this world which was filled with so much possibility."Hi," She responded to him in that rich voice, it's subtle tones dancing along with pretense born by the club's atmosphere -- low, soft, succulent, and just as inviting as the low-lit atmosphere that brought bodies closer together so that they could make out facial expressions, or at least use it as an excuse to draw their physical forms closer together. "I've never seen you here before, are you new to town?" His hand moved out to slide along the back of the stool that she had occupied, the slight shuffle of his polished shoes working with the motion to draw his body in closer to the girls. "I am," Her head was forced to tilt back, a slight raising of her chin and the brief extension of her throat put her in a submissive position as the tall man loomed over her. "I've only been out of Hel for a week yet." Just as with Ember, she gave information wholly and freely -- not even bothering to second think her willingness to tell anyone what they wanted to know. Anything she was allowed to tell, that is.And so they conversed. Intimate little whispers that were hard picked up by others. A secret smile shared between people who might have a connection if it were a path they wished to travel. And then the man, dressed in his dark wash jeans and button down shirt, was leading the girl from the club to a location where he promised they would find the time to speak in further detail. A common theme throughout the club, as it were. Not only was each individual from that group talking to someone, they were seeking to take them from the club. Not all were successful, though nearly five in total would go missing that night. Lonely people that held no connections to the city or the people around them, those that were easily lost and forgotten.A young half-bred demon, an older werewolf, a nervous vampire that was practically chomping at the bit in order to get a fresh bite, a witch who was so drunk that the man who had hit on her had to carry her out, and someone who looked so plainly human that it would take heavy knowledge in order to identify him as a Reiki user. Not one the same in age, race, or other demographics, but all perfectly lured out within the span of twenty minutes by occupants of that very group.Only when it appeared that no one else would be leaving did the man and the woman retire for that evening, leaving the club arm in arm and with nothing but a strange determination on their faces.

The Judge

Glass was lifted with an ungloved hand of right, gentle hold of exposed fingers to prevent the container from shattering in the hand without proper care in pressure exerted from the spiral pads of the quintet. Rim to mouth and a lift after docking connection was established, spillage countermeasures assured with part of lips and contents knocked to the back of the throat to be consumed in a pair of un-skipped gulps, the glass touched back down on the counter with a soft thud. Something was strange. Like a stench which could not be placed and one wondered to the origin of it and they wandered about the room seeking it's location, only he remained seated for the duration of the events. Not omniscient by any means although likely omnivisual in consideration for the kalaidoscope sight from earlier, that was a matter of the present time and nothing more.  There were so many elements that were difficult to acknowledge, which many mortals themselves held. How devils could express things one was supposed to require a soul or conscience to, was beyond him. There were many presences here which required memorization, a thing done autonomously with but a glance, accursed scope of memory taking to note every single detail down to the finest. Peon to puissant, were and vampire, demon, halfbreed, even those who bordered on mortal -- every identifiable existence was memorized and many which could not be were memorized as unknowns which would require some measure of investigation should they be encountered again. Atypical ofsoldiers was to follow orders with blindfolds and well-aimed blades despite direction only vocalized, so he was no stranger to fighting things he could not always properly understand. No matter. Glory was memorized as a suitable bar name for an establishment which could supply some manner of strong drink to muddle the hisses and screams of the newer second-nature instinct which would require far more time than comfortable, to master and learn to control. Dulling an urge made it easier to learn to control when it was difficult to understand, but he knew very well what the thing in him longed for. Shifting of upper-half in a lean brought tension to cotton/polyester layered over with leather, unseen clenching lock of abdomen and a push with the right foot for a sudden swing of the weight towards the left with the drop of that side's leg to straighten and plant a boot to the floor with a silent drop of toe-to-heel. Turning towards the door without a single additional word, no expressed satisfaction of dislike, or any opinion for that matter, steps were traced in falls of boots taking him between the two large men and the door, knob taken to hand and twisted, tugged and the door was pulled free of it's frame for it to shut to behind him.

Kirakushi

In the first few days of being on this, he supposed frame of existence, he had gotten stopped three times by apparent 'Law enforcement' just for waking down the street minding his business. Not that he could help looking shady, his open vest showing off chiseled muscles from working metal and swinging weapons around seemed to get more attention than the back of his hakama showing off the top end of his buttocks. He might be willing to change his form, but be damned if he'd change his very practical clothing to suit everyone else's need for what they considered normalicy. Ultimately now he moved around at night, but the only things open were bars or clubs. While not displeasing, he earned his drink entertaining people with simple maniplation of principals, 'magic tricks' that even the least attentive mage back on Vulaer would have done without batting an eyelash. "Hrng." He was getting a hankering for a wholesome project, something a bit worth his time or maybe even a trick worthy of actual praise and not a bottle of cheap swill water.Mulling over just what he could do, file waving between his teeth he passed by a pair of folks that looked much too happy. Pink haired girl with stars in her eyes and guy that looked like he was too eager to gobble her up. At first, he kept walking, paying slight attention over his shoulder until the stocky human-formed smith ran his shin into the side of a bench. It startled him, more than anything; the muted bonk of bone against metal had him stumble like a drunkard to keep his balance and walking in circles to calm down so he didn't rip the blasted thing off its bolts and hurl it down the road. He took deep breaths and imagined he was pounding on something, the fact that it so happened to be the bench into a molten slag heap was irrelevant at that point in time, and flicked his attention down the way at the two. Stress relief and maybe even a bit of currency all at once? Giving a quick snort he set his hands on his hips and stalked along jauntily after the pair who'd goneby. "Totally not doin' this outta altruism. Nope. Nothin' to do with random urges to help out young ladies who dunno the arm they're hangin' on is attatched to a turd." Muttering to himsef to convince himself, he wasn't being a nice guy, nor was he out to save the day, he was just looking for a bit of cash to get a drink. Just like he would with a parlor trick at a club or bar. Totally it.It felt pretty self defeating though, all his attempts at convincing himself, as he continued along the walk just far enough away to keep his attention on the two of them but far enough back he wouldn't be considered to be blatantly following them.

[the-broken-sl-blog]

2.24.17 Log

Characters : Uriel + May

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Crunching snow and falling feet made their prints of sound to the ears trained to catch them, black leather combat boots contrasting starkly with the alabaster powder produced by the low temperatures that surrounded. Despite the cold, he did not appear to be bothered by it even though his attire consisted of form-fitting black leather pants that disappeared up the lower-half beneath a large ankle-length officer’s coat that matched in color and material which was held shut by means of a pair of buckles at the middle of his torso, bearing hint of some form of black cloth-like material of a shirt beneath it. Ebony tresses remained loose and still to frame pale and empty, serene features with a cold nearly-black gaze that threatened to peer past the layers of flesh and bone like a reaper did when eyeing a soul attempting to elude it. Leaf-less trees shook softly, branches bending beneath the overwhelming weight of accumulated snow until some of it finally began spill freely on the ground near his location.

A heartbeat and quick breathing had been tracked for several moments as of now, and was confirmed to be the suspected white fox watching him mistrustfully from the alpine hill with which it believed itself camouflaged with. There is supposed to be a cave across the face of the mountains just past this thick of trees. If I am quick, those possessed wolves can be put out of their misery before more mortals are stripped to bones.. 

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

The slightest breeze stirred strands of knee length hair, lifting it with delicate unseen fingers slightly enough that the near weightless strands of a muted pink seemed to dance of their own accord. A set of pale fingers seemed to mirror in the madness of hair, working to capture the strands and slide them behind the tall curve of a set of pointed ears that had been decorated in a series of jewels that studded the length of the lobe and held cold metal chains from one to the next. Mayawhilup Dunot may have been the Queen of the Winter Court, but she had grown up in Summer.

The acquiring of the Court had infected her, however, leaving some manner of resistance to the cold that tried to etch it’s way deep into her skin but it was the thought of being cold which had been more than enough to justify those thick hide boots on her small feet; the white tint of the animal’s skin only visible on the exterior while the white and gray fur had snuggled up against her flesh and worked to keep it warm as she moved within the canopy of misshapen trees. The warm bodied woman had breathed in and out, letting the slightest fog of air cloud the black, depth-less eyes that searched the landscaping before she was stepping into it and leaving it behind in her wake. Alone, one might have thought the Winter Queen mad (of course they kind of thought that anyway, but that was a point for another time). Even the gown she wore, the palest of blue fabrics, was sheer to the point that there was not a speck of her body that could not be seen where the simple white shift beneath it had not wrapped. Her path was not an obvious one, as the weight of the dresses train worked to drag snow to fill in the little pockets of foot prints where she walked, but the Fae-mutt was not actively attempting to hide. She never hid; she had spent too long as a younger Fae doing just that and now … Well, now the woman was more in one’s face than the rest of the world seemed to be happy with. Mostly those of the Fae realm.

Those individuals were not on her mind, however, not when she slipped from the lining of trees to make her way towards the mouth of a cave where she had hid the treasures found on her body when they removed the first portion of the seal and breathed life into her form once more. Markers of a past best forgotten but so embraced that she could not move on to the other realm without having them at her side.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Based off of his re-collection, acquired from a map drawn up by his superior officer, just past the winter-shaped trees before him and a little further off to the Northeast would reveal the predetermined location. I was told there would be thirteen, including the one that is suspected to be controlling them. Pitiful creatures. His mission consisted of eliminating the white wolves in the area which had been shown to be more pervasively aggressive to the wildlife and mortal villages close to the area, a thing which had resulted in six deaths and several livestock being ripped to pieces. If he was correct in his assumptions, the one manipulating the wolves would likely not even be in the cave although exterminating the wolves would remove the arrows from that unknown’s quiver.

Wind whipped at his face like a phantom digging it’s spectral nails in, and a lesser man might have sought shelter with how low the temperature had dropped beneath the evening lit by a full moon which glowed like a brilliant celestial pearl that floated in the sky; boundless treasure, incapable of being reached and yet appreciated all the same was it’s reflection across the surface of a body of water in that it could be seen to be so close and yet was so far.

“Why are you doing this?” “Because.” ’“Because’ why?” “‘Because’ you let me die.” “I would have followed you into Tartarus had you have asked me.” “Lies!"

It was days like this, days in which nothing seemed to keep his mind occupied, that he found himself pulled in by the undertow that was yesterday, or the yesterday of the many he could recall with perfect photographic detail, in all of it’s grisly details and feelings, thoughts, senses, precious split seconds of which time seemed to slow to an eternity. Cassium. I truly would have..

Gaze shifted towards the curve in the trail that divided the forest down the center, a shift in direction to the left made which would bring his course ever closer to the completion of his task and phase two of current mission. The mountain loomed closer, and it’s proximity seemed to diminish like the light of a descending sun, but his thoughts remained on the subject he preferred more at the time to forget. Thinking of things that were out of one’s control was a waste.

Closer now, and the mouth of the mountain was within the realm of his perception as of now. Faintest sensation of tingling across the pores of skin even beneath clinging leather attire, more so across the exposed pale flesh, yet he could not quite place why. Was it the mage suspected to be controlling the wolves? Steps closed down to a slower, steadier pace which near-instantly silenced the crunching of boots pushing down through the ashen slush as steps drew him closer to the opening.

Choosing not to draw a weapon yet until further investigation, as he was not in danger, he passed the threshold between outside chilled air and cavern air.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

With each and every step, May grew closer to her prize. She could practically feel the vibration of the earth beneath the snow, humming to her in a melodic form and promising her a reunion with her most prized treasures. She knew not of the threat that had loomed in the distance, both in the form of a man or even that of a beast. Even then, had she been aware of such things, that information would not have prevented her from moving forward with her goal in mind. The petite woman, who was both curvy in shape but small in frame, did not hold herself back for no one – no matter the cost. Yet there was still a moment where those booted feet paused within the depths of the snow, a quarter turn of her head enabling her to expand the reach of her peripheral vision to some more of the expanse around her as the point of her chin found the gentle curve of her slopped shoulder.

A solitary breath was drawn in as she mentally prepared herself for the darkness that had waited for her within the mouth of the cavern; those pupils eyes almost disappearing as thick and heavy lashes fell into a half mast position as she surveyed the land closest to her. There was only a moment of that positioning before she was returning to her task. Into the clearing she walked, and in those steps her hands lowered down to the gown which seemed to catch some of the reflection of the sky’s barest light, adjusting it around her slightly so that it had not expanded quite so wide along the snow when she grew closer and closer to that very point of entry that she had walked for hours towards and those feet would not come to a halt until there was the soft sound of the hide boots coming into contact with the mouth of the building. Curiosity had often found itself swelling within the bosom of her body, breathing vitality where a certain lack of such would render the mischievousness of her person obsolete. All so that the pixie in her could shine.

It took only seconds for the darkness within the cave to encourage her eyes to adjust – to see the damage done by inhabitants that were not supposed to be present. Bastards, as she saw them, who might have been seeking out a Pixie’s treasure – an offense that was just as grand as attempting to steal a leprechaun’s pot of precious gold.

”Trespassers,“ She spoke, her voice something soft but rich in depth, sliding over the skin of any who might have heard her as she composed words meant for those that had lingered deeper within her cave, "Leave now and I shall not kill you. Heed thy words true in form."

Uriel ( white wax warden )

It had been some minutes of passing time since his entry into the cave, but the remains of those that had wandered in carelessly could be seen as to what their end appeared to have been. Hardly any shred of meat or clothing, but bare bones and the stench of death which had assaulted his senses long before even entering the naturally-formed structure. Low light setting was of little consequence to the creature of the night, as his vision in a near-absence of light was still almost as pristine as it was in the outside world before. Stalactites jutted down like the daggered teeth of a massive wolf, mouth agape in preparation of receiving it’s meal, to bear the image of someone having entered the jaws of the death.

The soft voice echoed off of the walls like a stone across the surface of water, thrown with exquisite aim unto it’s mark. Like a summer breeze it greeted him, yet pushed against him all the same with the potential raging force of a city-wreaking hurricane or some other force of nature men of olden times alluded to the wrathful whims of the gods. You make the same gamble as I.

Although a gentle voice that may have sounded well if twisted in song during his days as a mortal, those days were long past and he knew quite well what it was that he felt–power, a kind that was primal–but only a wisp. His steps ceased. A battle here was already unavoidable, but another battle was unnecessary. ”The inhabitants have left. What would you do with me, if I chose to stay?“

By all rights he would have been considered one of the trespassersmentioned, yet he had no intent on leaving until his investigation finished. His deduction was that the wolves had not returned yet, but would before the night was through, but a deeper exploration into the cave would serve better than leaving on sheer assumption. His voice was deep and rich in it’s own right, an air of authority and, also, of a cold that would have made the outside seem bearable.

”I say this now: I will not harm you, but I will defend myself.“ What she chose next would determine his next move; if she decided to investigate then he would explain–as much as he could explain–out of her right to know what his potential intrusion upon her domain was, but if she attacked him then he would respond in kind. Was a cave truly the wisest thing to battle in?

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

”Eat you.“ That same melodic voice continued outwards, the richness peeking slightly just as her lips curled upward at the corners to begin the brilliance of a smile.

Pixies were, by nature and by laws from her childhood, vegetarians. To look at her, however, no one would think that the woman, while small, was anything to that accord. Aside from the darkness of her eyes and the discoloration of her hair, she could have been an under-grown sidhe; beings that were well over a foot taller than she and more lithe in their construction compared to the heavy endowment that the mutt was cursed with.

"Grind your bones between my teeth, make a bit of fancy paste to write on the walls with in a very caveman brutish fashion.” A tease or a promise was something unknown, but the previous flick of her wrist and trickle of magic had the Earth at her side climbing upward, sliding along her fingers as it began to take shape and form. Swords, even those made out of clay and mud, were the only weapon beyond a knife that the pixie had ever used. Even then she was more of a hands on sort – but they were wondrous to throw and she was quite the marksman when it came to hand held projectiles (something that was far from the truth if one was to equip her with a bow).

Either way, when it felt correctly formed within her hands, the magic within her body was recapped – tucked and hidden away as much as one who actively bled it could be. “I watched it once on the telie, quite gruesome.” As she walked, the earth holding her makeshift blade gave the slightest snap, disconnecting from the ground as she began to move deeper – letting her voice vibrate along the cave’s walls so that she could use those sensitive Fae ears to pick up on the location of the man within. “I do like gruesome though, it is quite fascinating. Painting ones self with blood, tasting it on the tip of the tongue, letting it paint the walls with bits and pieces of intestines and all such things. Oh,” She quipped softly, “I am in need of a corpse not two days young. Virginal, in fact. You would not happen to be untouched by a woman’s affections, would you?”

It did not take much for her to wind her way in deeper, closer, until eventually the five foot wisp of a woman was standing in front of him – her head at a slight tilt while the sword in her hand had dragged behind her. Crownless, unless one lifted up her shift and peered at the branding Queensmark below her left breast, she could have been anyone. Sometimes, most recent times at that, she had wished she was nothing more than a pixie who struggled to resurrect her lover and have her revenge on him.

Ah, love. A blessing. A curse. A motivator. It was only luck that the sight of Erebis had not been filling her mind as she spied the man (assuming he did not hide from her upon her approach) – otherwise this meeting would have become less amusing to the former outcast of Fae-society and more twisted in it’s place.

[ Out of Character Note: … I have the rest of the long somewhere. >> ]

Uriel ( white wax warden )

The sound of steel razored edge leaving it’s sheath rang across the interior of the cavern along with the shuffling of leather boots to alter the angle he faced, glint of low light casting glare off of the walls from mirror-polished short straight blade. It was a blink of the eye hurried footsteps were a blur of motion difficult to track even by the most trained of eyes, flow of demonic energy released to a minor degree for a slightly-enhanced celerity. Boot of right touched an earthen wall at the corner  in a short dash, and in a haze of black leather and flashing steel was he gone. One second passed, and a canine yelp echoed off of the walls followed by a howl, and the sound of splattering, the satisfying sound of bone and muscle splitting, and falling bodies.

Efficiently and nigh-effortlessly, the returned wolves met their demise with as much mercy as he could afford the pitiful damned animals, until a moment elapsed since his disappearance. Surrounding him were thirteen dire wolves that each appeared large enough to bring down any kind of prey located in the vicinity, and they were all disassembled at the vital points consisting of the head, or split in half, without so much as a scratch sustained. Flow of demonic energy was restricted again, reducing reflex-timing, information processing, strength, dexterity, and cellular repair, to their default level. Taking in a breath, his first few breaths, near-blacks scanned the area for any further life signs to ensure the numer of wolves was not incorrect.

Ash-white power as far as his eyes could see, ebony boots left the sounds of crunching softly to maintain a steady even pace with the celestial beauty known as May. The organ of life within it’s cage of bone throbbed painfully, pumping blood through veins which had not felt the warmed liquid in centuries, and pounded within his head almost as much as the shifting, breathing and rapid heartbeats of the living creatures that could be detected. With his mission complete, he was free to do as he wished with his time unless given another mission.

I should speak to Michael of this, to know what this means. He would, mental note made to do so after this.. and what was this, exactly? We he following her to better understand the surrounding world and perhaps gain more knowledge of the unnatural flow of energies, or to better understand the unnatural flow that was Mayawhilup? What was she to provide blood which could absolutely bring a still heart back to full function? Was she magick herself?

His head still felt odd, as if a pressure was exerted by the temples, but his judgment felt to remain sound..

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

A single deep breath of air was drawn inward as the tip of a slightly curled nose rose skyward. Home. Hundreds of years had passed, perhaps even more than she had fully realized, since the pixie-mutt had found her way back into the land of the Fae. The others, Janzen and Solace, referred to this place as the Never-never but to one such as she – it sounded utterly ridiculous. A double negative in use to underscore it’s existence, perhaps. Regardless this place had not seen too much change since the time she covered the land and fought off the invasion of demons with a merry band of individuals that were long since dead.

“Just a couple more days,” The words she spoke were whispered more to herself as she let lashes fall to rest on the slight appling of her cheeks. The once indrawn breath expunged only moments later in something that was reminiscent of a sigh and she was pulling herself from the quiet reverie of the past so that she could continue to trudge towards the future. An uncertain future. Walking at a slow pace towards it which was slowly but surely driving the petite Fae woman to the point where she wanted to tug on those strands of pink hair and scream instead of letting the fingers brush casually among the strands so she could drag the weight of it over a single shoulder and begin to braid the madness.

“We should make camp soon,” Finally those black, depthless eyes were moving towards the man at her side – an undead who had been given a taste of the golden elegance of a royal’s blood. “More snow comes tonight.”

They had stayed off of the beaten path and the carriage worthy roads in lieu of safety. Mayawhilup had no doubt that someone would come to try and kill her before she could nestle that softly curved backside on the throne – so the party, before they had divided, had made sure to keep themselves hidden as best they could. It was part of the reason that she had sought that treasure the night she met Uriel; within it her furs of white and gray had lingered and she was able to discard the softness of a dress for something that would make braving the cold terrain all the more comfortable.

The cloak was heavy, almost too heavy when they trudged on for hours without a break, but it kept the near translucent flesh it hid away warm. At times she could feel the slightest bit of perspiration between her shoulder blades – dampening the white fabric of her tunic top (which had been paired with a lovely shade of grey leathers that hugged her a little too well, a side effect from growing since the last time she had adorned such garments. “A foot or more if the air tastes right.”

Uriel ( white wax warden )

The cold had little effect on the dead..undead, or living, or what he actually was now that his heart beat even while his demon remained at odds with his soul. While the sensation of the cold temperature and the bite of winter were all things he processed through nerves across a well-built and honed body, it was not a concern to something like him.

Hand of right, the gloved one, rose to find his chest to splay the tips of fingers against leather over cotton, feeling for the pulse he knew was there. Anxious to know if the effect would be permanent or it was temporarily caused by her blood, he remained silent on the matter as he allowed Mayawhilup to examine her surroundings. Choosing a place to camp in this cold realm would not be easy, but he was certain it could be done.  

Near-blacks shifted about the snow-topped trees and their roots which dug into the earth that disappeared underneath yet more powder, around their surroundings to ensure a proper perimeter was maintained. Perhaps during his observations, he could locate a place for the two of them to rest. Judging from the fact that the temperature only appeared to decrease ever more with each passing hour, he expected it to be freezing yet again.

Mayawhilup did not taste human, nor did she carry herself to be as fragile as one, but her resilience to the cold for extended periods of time was something to be questioned if she procured furs. A place able to have a fire, likely another opening in the earth such as a cove, would be the places he started to seek out.

“One would be left wanting for food, ‘lest the foxes that hunt. Once we secure a site I will return with one.” He did not require the meat, but he doubted that she did not, and use of a fire would provide her with warmth, food and shelter.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

“I do not consume meat,” She spoke the words lightly, offhanded in nature, as she let her eyes wander away from him to the snow covered wasteland they had trekked through. She could have informed him of the side effects of it but he did not know the details of the Sluagh or how a pixie could find themselves within the dark matter of it if they took it in; most everyone thought the fair haired being to be crazy enough as it is.

“I have plenty of food on me and will feed you when it becomes necessary.” A single glance in his direction was given before her hands abandoned the making of the overly complicated braid that she had worked the strands into – reducing it’s length by nearly half so that when she had tossed it over her shoulder it would only brush along the base of her spine instead the back of her knees. Without the glamour or twisting of energies to keep her obvious Fae-appearance hidden, she made note that it would require cutting soon. For now, however, the last thing they needed to worry about was when the pixie would make it to the hair salon.

“If you have questions, my poppet, you may ask them after we have established camp and settled for the night.” May could practically see them on the tip of his tongue whenever she looked at him – a consistency since she had given him a taste of what she was so freely and easily. “Do keep in mind that they may not be the answers you seek.” She paused a moment, pushing the furs over one shoulder so that she could give her body a chance to breathe in the cooler air and reduce some of the flow of warmth that threatened to cause more sweat to form.

“That should be adequate enough,” A break of topic, though the words could have easily applied to it, and she set to pointing towards an icy overhang which seemed to jut out from the earth beneath the snow and serve as an entrance into something underground; be it cavern or hollow.

She knew the lay of this land better than he and, though he was a more than capable navigator and hunter, there were no shreds of doubt she would find a place of shelter sooner than he; Uriel’s attention was primarily towards anything that could potentially be a threat, something he typically did not search for as he did not travel with company, but her prowess with the sword she showed him earlier had yet to be tested or seen.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

No answer was given to her addressing that he had questions she would be willing to answer, yet she likely knew all the same he would take her offer to answer what she could for him–at the time, threats were his primary focus and all else could wait–once camp was established. It took seconds later for the celestial to direct the tip of her finger to the overhang.

Silently, a hand rose to request her stillness so as to allow him to approach it. Disappearing into the entrance for a moment to ascertain their chosen shelter was safe, pitch blackness did nothing to hinder perfect nightvision. It appeared to have been a camp at some point for someone, long ago, as a circle of stones could be seen in the small opening that would provide adequate shelter for the two of them with some remains of ash and blackness. This would serve.

Now, to gather firewood to bring her warmth.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Her poppet, as that was what he was deemed to be the moment he tasted her, was already proving to be quite useful. She did not know whether it was the taste of that very blood on his tongue, the residual effects, or her charming personality which had him tending to her as if he were her guard – but she would not argue it either. Instead she would let those fur lined boots come to a pause as he went inward to check the shelter for any signs of life.

When he signaled her forward, May was once more tromping through the snow to reduce the distance between them before he had set off to find wood. It left May with a quiet moment to herself, and one she made ill use of.

The cloak which she wore was unfastened from her body, the chill of the air quickly climbing along her body both exposed and hidden, before she was shaking it out and spreading it on the cavern’s ground – a cushion between she and the much colder earth when she sat down and proceeded to pull out the small pouch which had been stored within the  treasure chest’s abundance from the night before.

A pull of string and she would begin rummaging through it in great length - beguiling the fact that it was so small and yet her hand seemed to disappear within it completely. It was in this state that she would remain until he had returned and proceeded to make fire; only pausing in her efforts once she found the small remnants of dried berries for her to sit out in a row in front of her.

Six in total.

There was a need to ration them, as obvious by the quantity, but she would not voice such things.

The dead of winter proved to be a terrible time indeed for someone who did not consume meat, for fruit-bearing trees only bore their fruit when it was warm. Roots were not impossible to procure, yet boiling them and having the needed objects such as a pot and drawn water to do so were another concern on it’s own.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

The sounds of snapping branches and falling snow would be heard from outside, but no other sounds of disturbance could be made out. Moments passed, attention drifting about the trees for any signs of anything which could be used for their end. Continuing his search resulted in ten more minutes of time out in the winter realm, outside of the cove where Mayawhilup was likely to be experiencing the unpleasant effects of cold temperatures in enclosed spaces, but his time outside was rewarded. The smooth surface of a small body of water, determined to be a small lake, revealed the growth of plants arching a foot above the snow with large red berries. Cranberries, if memory served him, and edible, even sweeter in taste than normal when frozen. There were about six or seven that had not been eaten, vision shifting about his surroundings for anything else.

Satisfied for the time being, the broken branches were laid on the ground. Shrugging his coat off in a single motion, cotton long-sleeved shirt of black was then revealed to cling firmly to the upper-half and a well-defined torso region. Rolling the branches and small thatch within his coat, the berries were tucked into an inside pocket of the garment.

Five more minutes passed by, but he finally entered the cove to find that she had lain her coat across the floor to provide a barrier between herself and the cold earth at their feet. Sufficient, so to say.

Setting the coat to the floor, the berries were extracted to prevent being crushed and presented to her with the right hand while the left began transferring dry twigs to their campfire. A narrow of eyes, focus applied to the twigs, as a flow of demonic energy rushed through the left arm like a raging river having broken free of it’s dam, providing a rust-colored illumination beneath the left cotton sleeve as the energy passed through the gate branded there, “Ignis.” He breathed the command, sparing not the time to rub wood together to create friction or find flint to cause a spark, instead channeling profane essence to evoke the effect of the necessary consistent chemical change. Within seconds, the fire leaped beneath the order of it’s god as a small rush of light that began to spread to the other twigs. Adding some smaller branches in place, attention shifted to the celestial woman.

“That should serve. Will the berries be enough?"

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

In the time that Uriel had been gone, not much had transpired within the cove. Those six berries she had originally laid out were reduced to three and continued to stare back at the pink haired problem in temptation.

His arrival had drawn her gaze upward from the challenge in front of her and there her attention would remain as she felt the usage of magic being drawn upon and the result of such being cast upon the wood he gathered so that flame could form and life begin to thaw. Those remaining berries were taken into her hand as she shuffled atop the fur of the cloak, pausing only when her knees threatened to cusp the edge and make contact with the bitter cold of the ground.

She breathed a sigh of relief in feeling the warmth begin to take to her skin; her body further leaning forward so that she could feel the throbbing heat in the air against the contour of her face, something which had caused a smile to transpire upon her lips before his voice was bringing her attentiveness back to him.

"Berries?” There was that all too familiar tilt of her head as she gazed over his offering. “How kind of you, my poppet.” Her body shifted slightly, the hand which had held the dried berries falling so that the fist would snuggle into the fur of her cloak so that her lean could adjust and she could bring herself closer to him. “It will be more than enough. Has your hunger returned?”

The tilting of her head was drawn at a greater angle while her still free hand rose to drag the tip of a nail along the length of her slender throat. “If you wish to taste me, I can make such an allowance. Perhaps I shall even return the favor this time. Do you like being bitten as much as you like to bite?” Curiosity mixed with playfulness as her hand fell away to join it’s mate in keeping her body upright. “Or shall we explore such endeavors at a later date?"

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Unlike most individuals who used their magic, May’s was subtle. Since her reawakening, she had taken care to not fill that unseen reservoir to the point where her magic was detectable – even now, with the metaphorical container tapped, she did not keep herself filled to the point where it had done little more than linger in the air around her. Despite her personality, despite the forwardness of her personality and her actions, the woman had more secrets around her magic than she would let on. Oh, there were always hints. Like how her blood had carried his heart into motion and how she had moved the earth, and now how she has revitalized his blood cells to life and spurred that living feeling in him again – but she still kept her levels sound. It was a paranoia that was born and blessed since the day her former lover, or so the pixie had viewed the Dokkalafar as such, plunged his dagger into her stomach and buried her body. Leaving her caged within her own mind. It bred paranoia in the small woman at his side, and even worse it had warped her once fun loving personality into something darker. Something that very few ever had the chance of witnessing – or living through once she let it shine.

What Uriel had been gifted with was a woman of manipulation, she saw something in him that she deemed worthy keeping within the first few minutes of their exchange and even with the pushing of sexual and bloody buttons, she had done only the things that would secure his presence beside her.  She just hadn’t expected it to work quite as well as it had. From his willingness to follow her out of that first cave, to promising to help her return “home” safe, she never once expected him to tend to the most basic needs of the body. Shelter, food, warmth. She could have survived without such things, granted it would be a horrid and harsh survival, but he made it easier. It made it easier that he did not seem to deny her requests, at that.

From the brief telling of his scarred flesh to his willingness to stretch out beside her and let her magic touch his body and do with it what she please – it was easy.

Almost too natural.

“Must I explain it again, my poppet.” Her voice was soft, almost in a dream like state when she registered the change of his demeanor with her hand beginning to slip away from his chest. “It is an … "

Words faded away as his body turned, forcing her eyes to open so that she could bring her own gaze upward to rest on his. She could almost feel the color rising on her cheeks as she saw the way in which he viewed her; a way in which a man looks at a woman and something that the pixie had not witnessed since she was young.

Too young.

Tongue danced across the soft pink flesh, moistening it slightly before he was bending down and capturing her lips with his own.

The fingers which had been in the process of dragging away from his skin pausing I their motion so that the blunt tip of her nails could bend and attempt to hold him in place while the other sought to engage in another form of lingering touch as the tips slid softly from cheek to ear before they began to descend and curl around the side of his neck. A simple placement, almost gentle in their form before the petal soft flesh was parting and the tip of her tongue was skirting along his own. Setting an invitation for something deeper but toying enough with the bottom lip that it could be left as playful if he chose to disengage.

It would not be a far stretch to say that May had wondered how soft or strong his lips had been, or even what they would feel like to dance along her satin like skin in search of something other than the blood that had pumped through her veins, but the woman never let such thoughts take root. Yet. She had. Otherwise there would not have been this sense of satisfaction curling within her chest and breathing as coils stretched wider.

He tasted of her magic and smelled slightly of sweat. His body was warm, almost hot to the touch as the fire continued to dance around them. Firm but soft beneath her fingers, promising something strong and gentle. It was almost too much for the Fae woman, and soon had her mouth parting from his whether he had accepted the deepening of their kiss or not.

"Uriel…” Her voice was soft, much more pleading in its depth than she would have liked. She wasn’t even sure when her eyes had closed and she had surrendered to that particular moment in time. All that registered was the scent, the touch, and the fire that breathed in her loins. All of which she had fought to push aside despite the clinging form of her touch. “We should rest,” She spoke words that she didn’t mean, “Tomorrow we shall reach the castle and our strength should be preserved."

Yet her nails drew tighter against his chest as her other hand slid up to slide her fingers through his dark hair as she cradled his head. A woman who had not been touched by a hand other than Death in the last, well - May could not say just how many hundreds of years it had been, but she was still talking herself out of wanting more, if just for his sake.

"It is just the magic, my poppet. Trying to find its way back to me in some form.” A truth, perhaps, but the form was a lie as any. And while a Fae could not lie, they could twist them. How easily she twisted them. For her own use. For him.

An escape from the Mad Queen.

Uriel / Michael ( white wax warden )

Soft and delicate like the petals of a rose–bruised if touched with the slightest pressure–he received her lips hungrily yet gently, caught in the rolling storm of emotion that had managed to somehow rage out of control for even one such as him. The warmth in his body was foreign and startling, but not alarming as it should have been considering the grazing of keratin tips across the marring of his abdomen and what it meant to him. Tilt of the head brought their mouths closer, pink oral muscle greeting her’s. Breath escaped through flaring nostrils, the sound of a muffled groan released as arms rose and hands secured the shoulders of the woman.

Very, very unseasoned in the ways of romance in spite of the origin of the term and his own background, Uriel was rather disadvantaged in this state. Tips of fingers touched to shoulder blades across the back, pressing with care so as to prevent bruising her delicate skin. Dread gripped his swiftly beating heart when she withdrew,the severed contact almost such that he might starve from a need he had forgotten.

Was this what it was like to be a fish out of the ocean, gasping to be with it’s kind? It burned in his chest, it pooled within his stomach and swelled within his loins until the leather of the front of his pants very very strained. What was she doing, pulling away so soon? Brows furrowed, an expression quite rare(any expression was rare to the Judge, but confusion more than most others) to give, the back of the head descending until it could rest against the cove floor to stare up at her.

Why had he..?

What was this, that they were doing?

A spur of the moment involving uncontrollable emotion which resulted in this?

This was not Uriel, not the figure that was known for centuries as being “as pitiless as any demon”, no, this was the man beneath the beast lost in the maelstrom of fire, death, beatings and torture.

“Mayawhilup..” Breathed the male, lungs pulling in a powerful breath which slightly drew the two of them closer until the time required to release it. Magic? His head shook. There certainly was a sort of magic attempting to come to her, but it was not the type she gave him, no.

“Mayawhilup.” Repeated the male, softer in tone, spreading both appendages and retracting until gloved hand of left and ungloved right could touch her cheeks in as gentle a way as possible. “I should not have..–” His head shook. He did not regret it, and yet he was certain he had violated whatever amount of trust she may have built in herself to him. “–it was unintended. I want to–but I should not.” He sucked in a breath, clearly in conflict and clearly not accustomed to the situation. “I must not."

She was the voice of logic at this moment, suggesting that they conserve their strength for tomorrow. It was sensible, It was sensible, and yet the ache in his gut told him what else made sense. She was a celestial beauty, a representation of unruined nature, and he was the worst kind of monstrosity that violated all of the rules imposed by it. She was certainly not in her right mind to have responded to him in such a way, he knew this, as why would she want intimacy with him?

The sound of a sigh alerted him, sudden jerk of the head made towards the source which revealed Michael standing at the entrance. Tight, black tank top with a strap across the shoulder of a dark brown leather that held a cloth-wrapped handle jutting above the left shoulder and a pair of loose-fitting pants with combat boots, the clean shaven male flashed him a smile.

"Damn, Uri. I approve. I definitely approve."

The sound of gritting teeth as the Judge focused his gaze, emptied all over again, the the First. "What have you come for, Michael?”

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Words, how they rang hollow on her tender lips. Even her body had told a tale that lay in opposition to them. Heavy breaths, forcing those heavy mounds to push up against his leaning body, the hammering of her heart, which beat so strongly that she could barely hear anything else, and the way that one of those slender legs drew across him – none of that seemed to say stop. If anything the anticipation for more had struck through her like the tenderest of chords. It was losing ones self in another that the pixie feared, and the moment she realized she could have done it - she was moving.

That one leg that was bound in breech slid further before she was using her own minimal strength and his positioning to her benefit; that mailable body rolling in an unnatural ease so that she could push him back down into his back while her own form rolled to mount herself atop him. Push him away, she had told herself and let the whisper of it take hold of her actions. She shifted her weight around him, those knees of hers barely reaching the soft fur of her cloak in the caverns floor as the full curve of her backside to to rest on his abdomen. Those hands which sought to explore him slipped away, abandoning his body in lieu of her own.

“Uriel,” She spoke his name as her fingers trailed along her thighs, scoring against the leather as her upper body leaned forward just enough for the base of the tunic to dance along the definition of his abdomen. “Never apologize for something which is –” Words were lost as he shifted, his attention abandoning that of the pink haired trouble maker in order to address something else – someone else.

The night was at its apex; just outside of the cavern in which the two had locked themselves in a wayward embrace, the snow fell from the sky in thick sheets. Had either of the pair peered beyond that threshold, they would have seen the arctic effects brought on by a Court whose seat had been left vacant. Eyes of abandon rose, the firelight seeming lost in their darkest depths as she followed his attention and his words towards a being that had not been there before only moments before. His presence was tasted in the air as she drew a breath in, yet it was lost in the flavor and score of Uriel’s and lacking the richness of presence that the man between her legs had managed to lodge within her fluttering mind and awaiting body.

There was a moment where she thought she might linger there, perched atop Uriel as if she were claiming herself a prize. She had even considered shifting her weight upon him to slide backwards and claim that pressure in his breech as her own and smother it with the warmth of her body, but her playfulness was lost in the moments that their closeness had come to light. Instead she would take to mind her previous decision to push him away – and due to that, she spoke words that sounded unkind in their brief, clipped form. “I see,” The darkness settled within her, the distrust flaring even in those two words. “Allow me to give you gentlemen your privacy. I trust you will keep your word.” Before the words had fully left her soft, pink-rose colored lips, her legs were straightening so that she could peer down at the man below her.

She considered saying something more, digging her nails in to a form of wordplay – but she opted to conserve her energy as she stepped around him and headed towards Michael. A glance was cast along his body, her head barely moving as she allowed herself another moment to absorb what Uriel’s companion had looked like, before she was stepping out into the pushing snow and allowing the fresh cold and butchered air to invade her lungs. The cold settled on her swiftly without her cloak but she paid it little mind. Instead she was letting those boots sink into the several inches that had rested atop once fertile land as she rounded the cavern’s entrance and looked northern.

There were two options that had come to the mutt’s mind as she attempted to pick out the vision of the castle’s silhouette among the thickness of snowflakes that continued to tumble from the sky: Abandon him here and move on, or wait. The fact that she was considering the latter as even an option made the desire to gather her wits and press on alone all the more appealing.

Loss of Log (boo!)

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Time seemed to stop, holding it’s breath in a quiet sort of wait as Uriel’s large body abandoned his post on the wall and made his way towards where May had lingered on the ground. Perhaps it was not time that failed to breathe, but the small woman which lay there in wait for the behemoth to lower his body down beside her. She’d not admit it, though it was probably easily heard with those sensitive vampiric ears, that her heart had increased in it’s speed as he stretched his long legs out and proceeded to find some variant of comfort beside her. That breath that time or fae held was slowly released with a touch of his hand and a brush of his arm when he sought to bring the cloak back around them.

“That’ll do, donkey. That’ll do.” Pop culture of the American form dripped from her lips in that lilt of accent before she was bringing her hands forward. She might have convinced herself to run from the hills but all actions seemed to lean towards the opposing force. From the way that her fingers curled along the black fabric, to the way that her body shifted in rather subtle motions to secure the curve of brow and nose between the placement of her hands on his chest. Mayawhilup Dunot, however, had always been known as a creature of excess – so while those subtle movements were just that, slight and small, they were accompanied by the rise of a single leg, slipping between his thicker ones so that her hip could roll forward and, at least she would claim, more of his warmth could be spread throughout her in a more fingers would diminish in their hold while muscles grew lax and breathing began to even out.

The constant need for warmth would only draw her closer to him in her sleep; until chest found chest and hips were drawn fully to his. A state that would linger until he either rose before the fire died out or until she awoke to the brief touch of cold attempting to claim that warm, velvet like flesh.

Uriel / Michael ( white wax warden )

He was fated to be a prisoner in one form or another, he knew that now. Claimed on a fur bed in a remote cave with naught to pull him from it, and not wanting to leave as well, the sensation of being drawn to her was like a mastermind encircling them with chains that tightened with every second.

Even now, as her heart pounded in his chest swiftly, his followed suit. It wasn’t just the softness of large mounds melding to a firm chest or the sound of her heart, or the circulation within her veins that sent fire through his own, but rather her proximity entirely.

A breath was pulled in as suggestions to sleep sounded exceptional. The gentle weight of her cheek against his shoulder and the feint smell of a berry-laced breath, her incredible scent melding to his in a way that– It was peaceful. He had to admit that to himself even if it could not be stated to her, but watching her sleep, witnessing her serenity built his own. Releasing a breath and resisting the tug of those chains which threatened to call down his lips to rain on her own, a swallow was made. What are you other than celestial, Mayawhilup? Were I not..

His eyes closed, thin layers of skin having fallen to secure a cover of darkness over already black pools. Were I not Hades, were you not Persephone. I could.. The darkness enveloped him. Why had he thought such thoughts? She just appeared and felt so fragile, and the thought of leaving her to go home when she could be harmed was like a knife in his stomach..and that was horrifying for him. It was already happening.

Lips curved softly, brow lowered, shadows covering the lower-half of a stubble-lined face. That’s my boy. He now knew what Uriel felt, even if the Fourth Judge didn’t know it himself. It’d be pretty hard to accept the descent for someone when you’ve done as well as possible to elude it your entire existence, so he got that, but enough was enough and shit had to change eventually.

“Now, it’s her turn..” A flash of white as, from his position on the shadow plane in which a casual lean had been at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered over to the pair. Dipping down, an extended hand of left brought black-painted nail to come to touch the fae’s brow gently. It was then that she, were it successful, may have found herself sitting at coffee shop in California! Clad in a black button-down long-sleeved shirt with a neon-green tie and a loosened knot, with a matching hoodie and baggy black slacks, hair had been brushed over to the side and gelled in a very sleek, business-like appearance that bore the likeness of a college student.

Twilight-colored nebula could be the only way to describe the eyes of the male as they focused on her, hand of right reach for a mocha frappacino with fudge drizzle. “So what will you be ordering?”

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

“It is incredibly unwise to mess with a person’s dream.” Yet there she was, sitting across from him at one of those black mesh tables that were so common in a coffee shop. Long strands of pink hair had been considerably reduced, brushing just along the curve of near bare shoulders as a pair of otherworldly blue eyes lingered over the troublemaker’s face.

“Something sweet if we must,” There was a sigh, one which had caused the weight of her breasts to strain against the fabric of her knee length white dress. In the human world, May’s hair was often glamoured shorter and her eyes a more natural color (as best as a fae could get), and had it not been for the tint of those strands of hair she could have looked like any other born and true American; red cowboy boots and all. “The sweeter the better, in fact.” Pixies had a renowned preference for honey and things that were both natural but sweet enough that they would leave a normal person thirsting for a beverage to taint the flavor left in the mouth.

Either way, she was leaning back in the wrought iron chair, letting a single set of fingers rise to cover her mouth and, by extension, mask the jagged points of her back molars which had been more jagged than the bluntness of the front teeth. Her projection of being tired was an illusion to mix with the one that Michael had created.

The fact that he had managed to sweep one such as she into a mutual dream state was not lost on her – but it often begged the need for touch. To be touched that meant he must’ve been in close proximity. The only time such things were not untrue, that she knew of, had been in the presence of souls bound together or dreamweavers and he …

Well, nothing about the man across from her seemed to fit such a title. It left her cursing in the back of her mind; she needed to force herself awake. A task most difficult when one was as tired as she.

Uriel / Michael ( white wax warden )

Oh nothing, nothing like a dreamweaver or a bond of souls! What he was happened to be of an ilk far richer than folk who entered into the dreams, but that was another story for another time! While she may have been correct in her understanding of proximity, he wasn’t technically touching her, per se, more than he was reaching out across a parallel distorted, timeless plane. ..for his safety!

“Waiter.” A notion of the head, small curve at the lips offered to the young male who barely crossed eighteen. “Cinnamon breadcrumb coffee cake and an organic green tea with a diabetic overdose of honey and..” He paused, frowned and glanced back to the fae, then shifted his eyes back to the waiter. “..bring the whole container of honey while you’re at it. I’ll take an..angel food cake."

Pearl-whites flashed her a grin, lips pressing together in a playful expression of a trickster..tricking another trickster! The waiter left to procure the items, and a small sip of the frappe was taken.

"I could do a lot more than mess with people’s dreams, gorgeous. I’m not here to do either. I just had a question for you that couldn’t wait, and since you two seem so lovely-dovey, I didn’t wanna interrupt.” The frappe again lifted, the straw secured between soft lips for applicable amount of suction given to work on draining the contents of his mixed and highly-caffeinated beverage.

“If you answer it, I’ll let you go. ..after you’ve finished your tea and cake. Leaving..leaving food on the table’s a rude thing to do–think of the starving kids in Africa.” Brows waggled in unison, twilight nebulae staring her down casually from behind his drink.

“You can leave now if you want too.” He sighed, in fact he sighed as he spoke to her. “But if I wanted to do something bad, Lav would’ve come for my throat, and he barely knows you. Why is that, I wonder?"

So there it was! Would she bite in and sip her tea with him?

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

"Lav?” A casual question. “You mean my poppet? Same reason as most men, I suppose.”

Once the drink tea was placed in front of her, she was reaching out to take the small cup and bring it to her lips. While the liquid was piping, and she knew it to be a dream, she was still blowing on the surface of the tea in order to cool it before it was brought to her lips so that a sip could be taken.

“You would have to ask him. I lack a proper knowledge and awareness of your companion in order to make an assumption." Heavy lashes served as a curtain as she began to drain more of the tea cup’s contents. Within her hand it had transformed into something more … May. A cute little teacup, a fine piece of chine, hot pink with white flowers combing all throughout it’s base. "Perhaps he holds a savior complex and has focused me as his damsel.” When her eyes opened, she turned her gaze skyward. “Perhaps he likes it when I say the word erection. It tends to make him smile.”

One hand came away from the tea cup, trailing through the strands of hair and twirling their short length along her index finger. “Is this the only question you have for me, chitling? One to which I could not provide an answer, for it is not my mind in which you seek the answer.” The teacup was placed back down as she shifted further, drawing one leg over the other and letting it dangled weightlessly in the air.

Uriel / Michael ( white wax warden )

“Mm. Your ‘Poppet’. What a cute nickname.” The frappe had been drained halfway now, and the brash introduction of a starkly cold slush to hot oral and sinus cavities should have produced a largely uncomfortable sensation people called a cold headache, but not him!

“So, you liken him to a fourteen year old snickering at the word 'boner’ that risks going blind if he keeps growing hair on his palms?” His laughter escaped, palm slapping the table rapidly. Oh, she was rich! He liked her! “You..–you, you’re great! Totally the opposite of Lav… You’re like this..this butterfly finding flowers to land on, and he’s Paul Bunyan with a lumber mill..stuffed in his ass."

Brows lifted from behind the half-drained frappee, even as the wait returned and set down their cake. "Right?” A fork lifted from the table, turn of the utensil to cut down into the spong-like decadence of his angel food cake. “That’s not the question. That’s an answer. To your question. The one you don’t know you’re going to wanna know, until now in which you do know, so now you probably don’t wanna know it, or you think you don’t, but you really do.” The sliver of cake was brought to his mouth, lids falling to allow a small sigh to escape that was a rather..dreamy gesture.

"So to business–“ Fork gently came down on the saucer, and time around them instantly froze. A waitress with straightened golden blonde hair down to her chin was in mid-motion leaning forward, mid-pour of fresh coffee with mid-wisps of steam in mid-air, and another waiter was in the middle of taking the menus from another couple. "What’s more important to you–the thing before you, or the thing before you?"

Time resumed immediately after, it’s meaning clear and oh so very unclear, but also part of the question as well. After time resumed, a breath was sucked in. 'So I’ve got a five-thirty with a Titan named Atlas who’s trying to wake from his slumber. If I don’t make this, the sky’ll start falling..–see you!” Out from the wrought-iron chair he scooted, extracting a pair of sunglasses from his hoodie to slip them on as a full height of five-foot-eleven was reached.

“I’ll leave you two to your sleep.” With a motion of the left hand that involved the thumb lifting swiftly, a small copper coin catapulted into the air and dropped with a loud clatter on the table, bounced, bounced, bounced off of the window and then started to spin in loud ringing.

By the time the coin would have hit the table, he was gone.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Riddles. A pixie she might be, but riddles were not her forte. Mischief, perhaps it called to her better. But riddles? It was a blessing that he was not a bridge troll or a Dokkaebi sent to stop her plans.

“Ridiculous. All are important in the scheme.” The words were projected in her mind, a lingering thing which had dipped into her dreams as she let slumber resume for the remainder of the night. It was a difficult thing to pull away from one who cast such warmth even when he was not fueled by her magic to do so.

The brief time between the interruption of her sleep for Michael’s presence had her drawing herself more closely to Uriel, even shifting upon the fur which they slept so she could be the deviant creature that she was a place a forlorn kiss to the curve of his bottom lip before her head was falling back down to use the inner curve of his bicep as a pillow.

By the time that the sun had risen, opening her eyes had felt more like a chore than it should have; an effect of losing part of restful sleep for someone to propose such ridiculousness. Those slender arms of hers were moving upward to stretch above her head as her body was forced to heed the call, a bend of spine and a point of toes further increasing the feeling that blood would flow best if she were a flat board and lacked the supple nature that came from a cross-contamination of lesser and greater Fae. “Uriel,” Her voice dragged as her mind sought to catch up and find the man in which she had burrowed herself into for most of the night.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Was he It was winter, with a blanket of ash to coat the ground like a carpet of cold, shrouding flora across the world in it’s chilling embrace, and yet the sun shone down even as flakes of snow danced in their ethereal descent. Steam from parted lips as breath escaped, near-blacks falling down to himself in wonder.

Dressed in muscle cuirass with a girdle and gladius docked to the left hip, he noticed bronze greaves and iron-nailed sandals, a pugio at his right hip. Without a thought as to why, the leather of the girdle was loosed and left to fall, sheathed weapons of steel and leather material clattering and crunching to the space behind his feet. Next came the cuirass, unsecuring it until a cloth tunic could be seen. His heart raced with eagerness as the sun lay down kisses even as the embrace of winter remained. There she was, in a shoulderless white summer dress, kneeling, picking a crimson-colored rose from a bush otherwise enveloped. Breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful.

Eyes strained against the rays of the sun, lift of a hand made to obstruct the discomforting direct light. A shadow cast above her, rolling thunder, distant howling of wind. The ground shook, he lost his balance, and a massive hand of darkness swallowed her in it’s grasp before yanking her down. “Maya–Mayawhilup!"

He awoke with a quick, short intake of air, releasing it quickly with attempt to lower the quaking rate of his heart which throbbed painfully in his chest. Apprehension. His name had been called, had it not? A shake of his head to wrest himself away from disorientation, spotted vision sharpening and perfecting.

He tasted her on his lips, releasing a sigh of relief.

She was well. She was here. The world hadn’t swallowed her.

"Mayawhilup.” Breathed more than spoken, softened near-black pools flickered with gold, subtly, hinting at something far more. In his mildly-dazed state of waking to the pleasantness of her presence from his nightmare of losing her, he felt himself to be conflicted with relief and apprehension.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

As sleep took flight from her eyes by whisking fingers, and her gaze was brought up to rest on the man whose body she still lay against, his voice soothed that part of her that had been wary that he had been gone. “Uriel,” The usage of his name was soft and fleeting on her lips as she responded in kind to him. It was a reckoning somewhere in her body that had her loins burning and her heart beating with a renewed fervor. She could not stop herself when the motions unfolded; the careful way she slid her arms around his neck, the way she siddled up against him so that their bodies were flush, the delicate way she pressed her lips to his as her body continued to buzz with a typically repressed longing to simply be touched - felt in a way that no other had managed to stir within her for what felt like eons.

Dreaming of Michael had been lost in the way that she kissed him and the way that she drew her head back so the tip of her nose could skirt alongside his. Carefully turning her head so that when she kissed him again it could be given a fair amount more pressure to convey the need that had been actively growing within her. She didn’t stop to think that he could probably feel her heart hammering in her chest, or that the way in which she had wrapped his leg between her own so that hips could shift and she could press the warmest portion of her body to this thigh.

The woman in her knew just what she was doing, effectively lifting her ass in the air so that the whiff of arousal and openness could be scented and felt. The logical part of her had taken a backseat, if only for a moment, she that she could steal his bottom lips between her teeth and give a light and affectionate bite before they were retreating to place a kiss to his chin.

“I thought you might have been gone.” She said in honesty, a husk filling her tone even still.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Instantly the strife therein fell behind and allowed him to take the forefront, bringing out a man not of logic as witnessed and displayed through many exemplary acts and deeds, but as an actual man behind the monster. Her warm lips melted whatever ice still lingered in his dream that pierced his newborn heart like a breath of cleansing fire that chased away the darkness of his existence–she was a blinding sun in the winter–and he longed for the burn of touching her.

Gasping softly into the pressure of her mouth as she captured his in her’s, lips parted immediately to welcome the arrival of her’s and herald the advent of a pink muscle. Hands lifted and sought slender waistline, digit pads pressing firmly but carefully so as to not bruise or harm her, to possess what she seemed to offer to him so freely. Their kiss broken too soon, lids fluttered open for the split second of distance required for the two to reunite again. Tilt of the head and a groan into her mouth that tasted of honey and need, the vibration of which would have left an echo in her’s of his own. Leg between her’s tensed like iron, for something else rose like a heated iron that somehow had not broken free of the leather confines that held it in it’s long-served prison, an ache stirred within.

Her hammering heart sung in his ears, excitement crackled across skin like a current, and kindled fire ignited into a full blaze. Hands searched her in their moment, climbed her waist and found soft flesh. Her scent! His mouth ached more than ever before, more than when her mere proximity had called him to drink from her! Hips shifted forward, a breath taken in and released quickly as the fae pulled away to inform him of her concern. Blinking softly, both hands lifted past the plush warmth of her exquisite breasts to rise and find her cheeks.

“I want to stay. I thought.. My dream. You were taken.” His distance from her closed with the sudden forward lean, a roll of the wrist of right to swivel placement of fingers and palm across her cheek to caress her chin. She was so soft and smooth to the touch that he feared he might scratch or bruise her were he not gentle and careful enough, but touching her was the only thing which would serve to cure this risen madness. “You are safe with me, Mayawhilup.” Her lips were taken as prey again, the caressing right hand utilized in conjunction with the stretching arm to take the back of her neck and secure her firmly to him again.

She was precious to him, somehow. If he had lost her, then.. he could not explain it now, and had not the capacity to dwell on it at the moment.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

His dreams had begun to sound infinitely more stressful than her own, but the words in which he conveyed the result of such feelings had taken her by surprise. She could neither deny his words of safety in those moments, nor could she bring herself to pull away from him when he secured her body against his own.

Those words, those touches – they fueled something within her to a tipping point and it was expressed only in the dance of her lips against his and the motion of her tongue slipping forward to delve into the warm cavern of his mouth and proceed to express such hunger that passion was a word that could barely be used to explain. She hungered, craved, and needed all that he was in that moment – and if she could not have him, well, she was unaware of what she might do out of the sheer frustration born of being denied something that she most vehemently desired. It was part of the reason why she fell into such a motion like the night before; the one leg which had slipped between his own shifting from between to slide her inner thigh along his hip before she used position and momentum to bring them into a roll that had her laying atop the strength and broadness of his chest. All so those knees could find the fur that was kept warm by the fuel of their shared body heat.

Only when the heat of her body could rest it’s tender form atop the growing hardness of him, did she pull away from that kiss and tender embrace so that she could perch herself atop him.

“Uriel,” His name was hoarse on her swollen and damp lips, her eyes never leaving his even when those hands lowered to the base of her tunic and began to pull it upwards so that the slender form of her stomach was visible. The rough patchwork of her scar was more drawing than the tender flesh which she sought to expose to him – it’s jagged form reaching from just between the swell of her too heavy breasts to the bridge of her ribs dull and shining all at the same time.

A better woman might have played shy in that moment of exposing both the plumpness of their endowment and the major defect that worked against the steady stream of translucent skin – but the woman who had perched herself atop him would neither bat an eye nor would she seek to cover deformity or sensuality where his eyes could not see. Instead she moved her hands down to the clasp of her leather pants, forcing the various buttons apart so as to give him a greater view before they were once more on the move to begin unbinding the obscenely long hair from where she had pinned it up and braided it before.

“Touch me, my poppet.” There was a plead in her voice that beguiled the confidence that lingered there. An unspoken please that tinted the corner of her eyes and forced her hands to the black fabric of his tee so she could push it up and place the warmth of her hands to his abdomen. She’d gone so far as to lean over as an unseen clock ticked slowly forward in her mind and body, defying those paltry seconds which it had taken for her to execute the mounting and discarding of a single layer of cloth.

Yet, no sooner than she thought to bring those lips to his once more - to encourage his hands to find her body in some capacity and claim it, if only temporarily, was there a sound at the cave’s entrance.

“My lady,” To Mayawhilup, the woman’s voice was the equivalent of a weeping willow; sad in it’s presence and weight upon her skin. “They wait for you at court,” The woman had sounded more sorrowful than insistent, and while she remained respectful to not enter the cavern where May and Uriel held the prospect of a tryst - May could almost picture the scornful look on the elder’s face.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Back met a thick warm layer of fur, legs lifted and bent to the knees as the smaller-framed sylph claimed her rightful place atop him, her eyes promising to reign him like the throne he was ever as stiff as. Perfect. She’s perfect. Warm air escaped flaring nostrils, tilted head and needing mouth taking her’s as greedily as she did his, until she pulled away to call his name.

Excitement laced it’s way through his veins like the way the aphrodisiac that was her delightful scent filled the air–flowers in bloom begging to be tended to–and burning, lust-filled pools followed hands that secured the bottom of her shirt to reveal more of the gift that she was to him. Marred flesh captured attention, traced and mapped through photographic memory to this very moment in time, from his discovery of it to his surmise of it’s origins, but he would not question her of it at a time like this. Could she have experienced it, too? Higher the cloth rose to her urgent tug, with each inch of more exposed flesh a divine blessing.

“Mayawhilup.. So beautiful.." An understatement that paled to her, that word, but his brain ceased to formulate logical thought as the madness of their haze seized reason and led him forward. Even as she began to disengage the buttons to her leather pants, palms found bared waist and pads of digits pressed for secure hold as if, should he release her, she may fly away.

Up and across the fae’s ribcage with each fingernail trail while she begged him to touch her, ascending higher even when her hands found their place beneath cloth long-sleeved shirt to secure their place on him. Anticipation swelled as she drew close again like before, palms securing their place across outer-thighs so as to tug her down into him and bring them closer to the fire they built. Her mouth tasted of nectar, a sweetness he likened to what the gods of Grecian lore sampled in Olympus, yet it made his mouth ache for something more. Her.

The thought of sampling the rest of her with his fingers, with his mouth, made the next moment an agonizing one.  A sudden turn of the head to the direction of the source of which the voice called from, lack of a visual to mentioned source yet a note taken to the obvious familiarity meant towards Mayawhilup. The blooded vampire froze in place, swollen lips mere millimeters from taking her’s again. No! The denial of their time was cruel, but he would have her against him if only for a second, he needed at least that! The proximity required to merge with her was, so to say, dreadfully far. From their location across her thighs, a gentle tug downwards was applied with the intention of securing a furthered exchange of heat–a silently offered this for now, so much more later before hands were allowing her to remove herself from him.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Beyond such a pause when hearing the woman’s voice, Mayawhilup had actively ignored her presence. Instead she was leaning further still, even with his hands removing themselves from the warmth of her body, until the weight of her unbound breasts were brushing up against his chest. "More,” She whispered to him, quite softly in some horrid attempt for the woman to not hear her, before she was placing a series of butterfly-styled kisses along the curve of his jaw.

Hurried, in a form, but so lightly did the still lightly damp flesh slide along the strength of his jawbone. “My lady,” Came the voice once more, all the while that secured placement of her backisde did draw forward in a slow motion so she could stroke along the rise of his need to continue to continuously add kindling to a fire that was already ablaze.

If he were water, she was to drink him – it was as simple as that for the mutt that drew her lower body backwards in an equally slow motion as the once forward; a natural motion, one which they should have been set to enjoy without the presence of fabric or irritating interruptions to prevent.

“My lady… I know you are in there. We felt your magic hours ago."

"For the love of all that is holy!” She spoke into the hollow of his throat, where she had continued to let her lips slip and slide along in an attempt to taste each and every inch of his flesh so that it could be molded to her memory and remain lingering on her tongue. “All we need is an hour. Go away!”

“You have yet to secure your seat, my lady. Any further delay will simply make it that much more difficult.” The voice of reason had continued on, though the note of distaste had still lingered in her voice.

It was around the time that May had begun to push Uriel’s shirt upward with a set of fingertips that had continued to dance along his flesh until each finger tip coiled to the bareness of his shoulders and her chest could rest more comfortably atop his own, that the woman made her way into the cavern. May could feel it, the beating of his  heart and how it reacted to her very touch, her kiss, or even her words. She wanted to feel it longer, feel how it grew with their unholy union and see if it could match the rage of her own as each touch, kiss, and look sought to erase the remainder of the world.

“Shut up, Inzalya.” The words were murmured as the tip of her nose tipped upward to run along the curve of his chin, smearing more of that potent scent that grew with her need to become as close to him as two individuals born of flesh and bone could ever be.

“My Queen, it is imperative that we get you ready for your appearance within the court. Surely your … tryst can be had another day."

What did she know! May was most certain that the tall, auburn haired woman had found the comfort of some ready and available soul just that morning. Of course, looking at her bound in a dress of mahogany and the hair perfectly styled and bound at the top of her nape, with those lips perfectly painted, and her radiant green eyes showing nothing but disdain for the pair, none would see the woman as anything but strict. She held herself with that perfect sort of posture that came when handling business – which was why she made the perfect ally to one which could fly off the handle at any given moment.

"You must begin the purge.”

It was those words that would finally cause May’s body to sit upright atop the man who she desired most; her eyes never leaving his even when the tip of her nail began to trace her name in common along the length of one of his scars.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

By now his heart raced the a quick and well-played music instrument, if her lips were the fingers and his nerves the chords for her to exact noise from, and lo, noise did. Slightly-parted lips allowed low groan to escape. The sensation of hard peaks backed by abundant soft, warm flesh across his chest was utter torture, the sight of them providing another need for another place his mouth needed to be tasting. She was absolutely glorious, a goddess in her own right, and the fluttering butterflies which were kisses in spite of the consistent and incessant urging of the other female were enough that focus was hardly able to be maintained even for him. Hips rolled into her’s again, savoring the feeling of a potent and large source of her heat and the mesmerizing thought of her sinking herself down on him shortly after he had sampled and prepared her until tears of pleasure rained from her cheeks.

He did not want merely to have her for the hour she protested to her attendant, he wanted to own her for far longer. There was much wonder in how he managed to simply be, without her, until this point; the thought of continuing on without her, after this, seemed utterly senseless after the tenderness and care she had placed in him so many times already. While he was a monster, a thing that better men slew had they the power to kill the nigh-unkillable, she reminded him quite easily what it was like to be mortal–May mad him feel like a man, not a beast–but there was the other concern.. Should he become mortal, as was  professed to him at the end of his mission, would she tolerate his being there for but a blink of an eye? He had eternity now, at a price that was a terrible one to pay, but she made him question it!

As she straightened up on hi, hands rose from her thighs to ascend to slim waistline, tugging her back down for a small, gently applied kiss.

“Dress. I will stay with you.” Was there a curve to his lips, or was it the angle of which his head tilted? If even slight, if mostly-suppressed, the expression was there for but a second as well as a light in otherwise empty eyes like a lantern blazing beneath the surface of an ocean.

There was surely something in there for her–a place, even if he wasn’t completely aware of it yet.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

How did they think she could abandon his affections so easily? Each kiss, every touch, they were like a beacon to a moth if he were the flame. May knew that responsibility waited for her outside the cavern, but she hadn’t wanted them from the beginning. It was why she had run and abandoned the life of politics, privilege, and scandals for the sake of some sort of happiness that could not be corrupted by a pair of hands other than her own.

As that last kiss was brought down to Uriel’s lips and the weight of her lashes fell to hide away the promise of something more lingering in the darkest depths, she couldn’t rightly explain why she associated that happiness she sought with that moment sitting atop him. He brought with him a full range of emotions and that, within itself, was one of the most pristine things that she had ever experienced.

It was with great sorrow that she was once more bringing her body upright – and perish the thought that she would not be so crass as to slide her open palm along the length of his rising erection as those legs began to lift her upward. It had done untold things to her, perhaps more so than him. Especially when she let her gaze flicker downward to view it pressing against the leather and calling to her like the bitch in heat that she felt she was becoming. “My poppet,” She addressed him with the thickness of her bottom lip being drawn in between a set of blunt teeth so that she could chew heartily upon the flesh.

“Inzalya, you are so cruel to me. I fear I may weep this day," One foot lifted as the Sidhe drew closer, removing the distance so that when May came to stand beside Uriel’s hip that she could turn her and begin to inspect the mutt’s body. Their height difference had been most obvious, a clear foot separating the tops of their colorful mops,  and was the source of the other woman’s disdain as she began to slide her smoth finger tips along her Queen’s body.

"Your breasts and hips are too large and your height lacking,” To which May thought a big fuck you at, but otherwise remained silent. “I will do what I can but you will need to visit the dressmaker after Court.”

Anything else the woman had said was lost; she was too busy thinking about it being Uriel who had placed his hands on her hips and began to pull down the leather breeches she wore; exposing the full weight and curve of her backside to the cold air of cavern’s interior. She had a hard time repressing a shiver from the combining thought of his hands and the very cold she was meant to rule; but the rising of goose-flesh along sensitive, pale flesh spoke a tale that would have otherwise been lost.

“I could undress myself, you know.”

“My lady you smell of sex … I suppose that could be beneficial but unwise if you meet other Lords in privacy. It will not be long until they demand an heir.”

“Just tell them all I am a lesbian. I find pleasure in the flesh of women; you can be my most blessed lover since you seem to like to touch me so much.” Finger tip found the woman’s nose, giving it a tender 'boop’ as the teasing Mayawhilup Dunot resurfaced.

It would not prevent that sigh, however, from blessing her lips as she turned to look over her shoulder towards Uriel when Inzalya knelt to help in the remaining removal of both fur boats and the pants which had bunched at her ankles.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

“..!” Brows furrowed slightly, and yet his silence was maintained for his respect to Mayawhilup. While his desires lay in addressing how the size of her breasts and hips were so because they were entirely made to be held, and carressed by his hands alone, he steeled himself from making any comments that could bring further trouble to her. The sight of her backside only furthered the growth of the aching shaft she had been teasing with her rolling hips only a moment ago, and suddenly the thought of joining her in the act seemed the more logical idea.

His eyes widened to the mention of a demand for heirs. Of course an heir would be needed. His heart fell, and it showed in his eyes. The thought of her in someone else’s arms was worse than being stabbed by his once-wife.

He would not share. She would be his or she would not be!

Emptiness glazed over a gaze that had been burning, masking the raw pain threatening to ensue. I found you, and yet I cannot have you, can I? You and I are different worlds. I would ruin you. A breath was sucked in, his attempt to maintain restrain. He would guide her safely to her home, and he would see to it that she was safe. That was a promise to himself made, even if she could not be his. Royalty was a chain in it’s own right, as while luxurious meals and lavish resources were a privilege to them, nothing was free. In their own right, they only had the allies they could seduce to their side. He would not be one such. If she would have him, he would..

“What is the 'purging’”? Were he to bring her home, he would need to understand that much. Purging was a term those he usually associated with applied towards purifying demons, and being too close to any kind of grand-scale purging could result in his end, so his existence depended on knowing about it, and he wished to think of something else other than his celestial Mayawhilup in another man’s arms.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

“The purging,” May’s response was soft; his expression when they spoke of heirs and the hands of other Fae-males was not lost on her - but she would not address such matters while in front of a woman which she could barely claim to know. Instead, she focused on his question as Inzalya drew her arms outward so that May could create a small ’t’ with her lacking body – the woman’s words had been nothing new to May, her mixed heritage had caused such since the time that her form had developed. Compared to the women of the Courts, a mass majority of which who were tall and lean while lacking heavily defined curves, the was almost plump. “Is to rid the lands of the demons infesting it. The former Queen, Ani, was a demon who managed to assassinate the Queen before her and gain her Queensmark. When she took her place at the throne, she threw the Winter Court into distress and chaos by opening the doors to the other realms.” For Uriel she spoke of these things, anyone else she would have made some sexual comment in  regards to a man empty his sac. “Demons have flooded my lands and have taken the form of the Sidhe in all six courts.” A pause in her words as she drew her gaze to the taller woman, “There are still six, yes?"

Inzalya shook her head before responding, "Only Summer and the Sluagh have managed to survive."

"Ah, pity that.”

Lips pursed as the woman withdrew the pale blue fabric of a dress. Inzalya looked from the fabric to May’s body before she began to tear portions of it to make room for other accents of the woman’s body. “Anyway, she sought to claim the three realms of Fae, Man, and Hel. Despite killing her,” Inzalya muttered something, “Fine, despite my assassinating her when the mortal’s forgot that she was bound to the rules of Faerie and the Veil, her kin linger in our lands. My arrival to Court is to be adorned in their blood.

How much longer must I stand like this, Inzalya? How hard can it be to dress a woman? It is cold and my very nipples ache from the cold instead of being toyed with by my poppet’s tongue. Blessings, woman, I am more pixie than not, I have no patience for this.” How easily distracted May could become, but she was moving forward to take the fabric from Inzalya’s hands so she could begin to work it around her body.

“The mark must be visible,” Inzalya chided softly as May lifted the top over her head and proved that her abundance in breasts would leave a less than wholesome image as they were forced to settle into each of the cups.

So much so, that if she were to take a deep breath or lean forward that she might spill from the fabric that had been adorned with various gems of silver shades. “After I’ve cleansed the Court, I will be awarded a three day reprieve before I must go through the lands and hunt down the remainder to prove myself capable of defending and holding my lands.”

Uriel ( white wax warden )

She would have quite a task set for her, if she were to cleanse demons from her lands and her courts. Demons tended to come as hordes, like roaches infesting, that hid in plain sight with their charm and deception luring the weak of heart and slaughtering the innocent. To know of the threat of demons to her people, and more so her, was reason enough!

“….Alice.” Realization.

While he was not aware of all of the details, he knew that Alice was an outsider who came to a world unlike her own and fought the tyranny of the Red Queen and her soldiers, and restored rule to the White Queen. If “White Queen” stands for Winter Queen, and the demons are the Red Queen.. He was Alice, in Michael’s unflattering terminology. The purge was to eradicate devils, and his mission was to ensure the White Queen was able to take her rightful place. He understood now!

Lift of a hand of right, bare digits brushing ebony tresses which otherwise curtained clean shaven features, exposing the inverted ebony cross and it’s righted Seal of Solomon, the mark of his order. “I accept.” While not as cold as previously such as when they first crossed each other, there was a calm to it.

What would he choose to do after this mission with his given ability to die as a mortal? With half of his soul corrupt, would that even make him a mortal still? And there was also what Warren had called the “C.V.A.”, though what it stood for was not knowledge he was able to acquire, but it’s light was polar opposite to the darkness inside him, which was why it burned horribly to use it!

If he could not have her, then he would see to it to spend those three days with her as the man she deserved and not a monster. He would likely need to leave, being competition for the other males(and because they would not survive the night)that would try to breed with her.

“Mayawhilup.” The summoning sigil manifested in a mental image, focused on heavily as energy from his pure soul began to pour into it’s manifesting. The energy presented was an aura of calm which pulsed out like a ripple caused by a stone thrown into a body of water. If she would accept, there was something he should give to her to ensure her safety, as her skill with the sword shown to him previously…had still yet to be tested.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

 Any being which would attempt to simply breed with the woman that turned on her heel slightly to face the undead creature that spoke her name, would find themselves dismembered by her own hands. Not that she would express such in those moments, but responsibility only carried so much weight to that pink haired pixie. She was not a cow to be put in front of a stomping bull for the sole purpose of creating a child the courts would wish to manipulate in place of her untimely death. Something she may come to express within those three days – but for now, she was busy slipping the skirt around her lower body like a wrap as she let her colorless eyes fall upon Uriel.

“Yes, my poppet?” She could not have known the thoughts which had slipped in and out of his mind, but the moment that the fabric was secured in place over her hip, her bare feet was set to move across the fur of her cloak so she could come to stands beside him. Not a question would slip from those lips as her smaller hand slid within his own, merging fingers along side his. She did not know why a calmness had settled upon her but she could taste his magic in the air and knew it to be his because it carried the flavor of his flesh and the odor of his body when it was cast with arousal.

Each movement she made cast the sheerness of her skirt to shift upon her legs and expose each limb as the ripped fabric parted; a pixie garb, in a sense, with how it had looked in structure and sounded when the various jewels that hung from the still  unlatched belt shifted among one another. It reminded her of a wind chime on a gentle breeze, but her focus remained on the man whose palm was soon flush with her own.

She could not help her want to touch him, nor did she hide the longing on her features to kiss him once more. By the devils, she could not even say why she so easily and readily came to him with his simple use of her name.

A bitch in heat, or so she told herself. Surely that was all that it was.

Uriel ( white wax warden ) 

His frozen sheen of calm, however thin of a layer of frost compared to the Cocytus river’s volume of frozen water prior to meeting her, melted to her touch. Her warmth was enough to become sunlight that would turn Niefelheim into a summer paradise. Comfort was taken in her touch, the sudden increase of his telltale heart’s beating beneath the floorboards that was flesh and bone. Soft lips were met with a closing to his own, tilt of the head given to further their shared second together. It felt as though she called herself his. Fingers curled within her’s to hold her hand fast to his own, the leather-encased left raising with the arm bent to elbow, crossing horizontally over the torso until her wrist was gently secured.

“Sera has enough mana to exist away from me for seven days, in which she will return to me.” It was almost as if, by being announced, the tiny will'o'the'wisp of azure fire and shiny metal flickered into view. “Flemen Rabidus, Sera. The Raging River."

To the fae’s right wrist went the little ball of pale flame, settling down harmlessly. After another flicker of light, the result produced was a twist-woven bracelet of silver that actually looked to be continuously-moving liquid, with an amethyst woven into the metal, and a sapphire.

"She will protect you, should we be separated. Take heed when she is hot–demons will be close.” Sera was his first and only current Familiar, a shape-changing weapon comprised of alchemy-created silver, his blood, holy fire and a tiny sliver of his pure soul, had formed the sentient golem-creature known as Sera. “She will fight as your sword, defend as your shield, and negate direct demon energy."

If, and only if, she could accept this from him would he be capable of not being concerned for her. There was no intention of leaving her side!

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

If it were possible, which May had completely thought it so, each and every kiss he was willing to bestow upon her was that of a fine wine. It became sweeter, better, and more potent in it’s presence as flesh found flesh and affections grew stronger. It begged a question, however, when did she become so enamored that she did not even let her own gift slide along the ebbing flow of magic as he projected it and transferred it to her body? Had it been any other, she would have skimmed off the top, in a way. Taken a taste for herself as a reminder of the man and his ability to control his essence. The thought had never even occurred to her – she was too focused on the way that his much larger fingers encased her thin wrist.

She was hyper aware of his body, of his words, and the things that he did when he was in proximity of her; an effect, of sorts, of being denied the intimacy that they had longed for between one another. But it would not detain the moment nor would it corrupt the gift he bestowed upon her, one which had presented her with another marking of jewelry that would be much more treasured than the paltry effects that Inzalya might.

"My poppet has given me quite the fortuitous gift.“ When she spoke, her other hand was on the rise, finding the curve of his cheek as she let her depth-less pools linger on his face. "It will take quite a bit to tear me from your side, I fear.” Thumb stroked along the curve of flesh but she stated no more on the matter.

Instead she was turning her head to look towards the woman who had awaited her moment with Uriel to come to an end. “Perhaps we should hasten. I do yearn for my time alone with you.” Her attention was back on the very man whose hand she refused to relinquish.

“Go on, Inzalya, begin the torture of my scalp.” No sooner than she said the words did the taller woman move forward and begin to work her slender fingers in a weaving motion with the errant strands of pink hair.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Sera was weightless as it held fast and conformed the to shape of the fae’s wrist, drawing more into itself like an Ouroroborus until the fit was snug to delicate skin, glints of light reflected off of the two wonderfully-cut gems in a way that truly made the gift dazzle on her. If he were to continue to be in contact with her, then he could ensure that the bracelet need not leave her body. The urge for a tug to the corners of his mouth again, the answer to it’s call unmet for the moment. Winter was returning, and yet he had never felt so warm. Truly, she was Persephone and he, Hades.

If it reached him that she expressed openly to him her refusal to be away from him, it did not show outwardly even as the muscle in his chest raced faster to the knowledge. He did want that to be true, with every part of the soul that was still pure. Resisting the urge to shudder softly from the current of electricity which seemed to course through her body, transferring to his own, near-blacks shifted to the attendant, Inzayla.  She did not appear to be pleased with his presence, but she was certainly no threat to either of them. Sera would have alerted Mayawhilup were she a demon in disguise.

Hardly visible inclination of the brow offered to the woman even still, near-black pools creeping back over to the celestial that stood scarcely dressed beside her that began to have effort placed on her hair. Honestly, he preferred the thought of running his hands through her loose locks while she rode down on him and he, in turn, explored her. Shaking his head to discard that thought for the moment, attention shifted to the leather overcoat which remained rolled up on the floor of the cave that needed collecting.

Shaking off the top-grain material, the fire was observed to have been a pile of ash. It had appeared their heat kept them warm for most of the night, and they had actually forgotten to stock and tend to the flame. How time passed for them, and how they spent it, no doubt.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

Silence had descended on the cavern, leaving May to only stare up at Uriel while Inzalya continued to torutre her. Jewels were woven into the bubblegum colored strands; their faint tones of blue, silver, and lavender working well with the mutt’s over all color scheme – but she paid it little attention. She seemed strangely satisfied to stare up at Uriel while the woman worked her finger-formed magic.

It was only when the strands of hair were completed; a solitary braid laying along the center of strands curled and adorned – that Inzalya moved on to slipping rings over her fingers, wrist, and throat. Garnishing May as if she were some dinner to be laid out on a plate.

“I feel I shall be doing many a naughty things to you, my poppet. I wonder if those demons I slay tonight can blush.” Inzalya apparently could, as she was actively beginning to do it while May’s fingers climbed up his chest.

“We are finished, my Queen.”The woman spoke softly, bowing her head before she was stepping away from the duo.

“Leave us,” The pixie whispered, turning her head just slightly so that she could watch the woman slip out the cavern’s mouth and into the carnivorous snow which still had fallen from the sky.

“I have hopes,” She spoke more clearly when she turned her gaze back on Uriel, “That this night will end with me wrapped up in your arms once more. And, alas, while it pains me that I cannot be pinned between your body and the wall, feeling all the pleasures known, it is time for us to carry forward. Are you prepared, my poppet?” There was a pause, one which came with the tips of her free hand’s fingers sinking down into his pants so that she could tug at the fabric softly. “I do so look forward to devouring you.” Spoken in an afterthought before she was drawing her hand away – her will, as slight as it was, the only thinking from sinking further. She could not know what was to come, how effective his gift would be, or how they would receive her at court … So she focused on one thing to be true: her affections and desire to lay with the man in front of her.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

While he was not sure if he were capable of a sheen of pink across his cheeks, he was certain that the faces of the demons as they lay slain would be glorious victory.  How many Kingdoms had he lent his sword to in order to protect them from demons? Never once had his eye been captured by a dethroned queen, nor by most beings as they had proven disinterested or wolves in the skin of sheep.  

Girdle was fastened in place to hang loosely at the hips by the time Inzalya was to leave, holding the Nemesis to a scabbard on the left hip and the nameless gladius to the right, a pair of crossing leaf-bladed pugio daggers secured in place at the rear of the hips for quick and reliable retrieval, and Sera, who held the most important task: protecting his Mayawhilup.

Ever more with the appearance of a celestial maiden, he wondered if the angels he had taken orders from for centuries would have envious eyes to the beauty which stood before him. She truly looked that of a goddess of a season, showing her affection for a demon. Closer to steal her proximity from the invasive space between, hands secured that woman by her waistline to secure a final kiss. Drawing back shortly after, brow touched down onto the top of her head, pads of thumbs gently kneading her sides.

“You are beautiful, Mayawhilup.” He did not state that she looked beautiful, as it would have been a pale expression of appearance relying on her skin; Mayawhilup was something else altogether, and whatever she was..was beautiful to him. Following her hand with the empty gaze as he withdrew some painful inches rewarded her with something to fill them with, and that heat flickered across them as she whispered her promise. She was not alone in this and he, man or monster, would devour all that she offered him when they were to be alone again. Drop of the brow given to her question of if he was prepared, the subtle tremor of red softly danced across the life-like full veins across the neck for a brief second: he was most assuredly.

“I have prepared for this..” He took in a small breath, pausing to debate the openness of what was to be said next. Dare he? Dare he speak it? “–I have prepared for this for twenty lifetimes. I now find myself questioning if I am prepared..to be like this.” Eyes shifted down, from her to his own chest, as hands lifted so as to allow him to examine them. “I have Judged the world for many centuries, have withstood isolation, death, dismemberment and pain that cannot be described let alone fathomed, all for the price I gave to the price requested. Aiding you–I was not aware of it being a mission until we were interrupted–aiding you, to secure your throne.. I will not need blood after this, yet I find myself questioning if I want to be mortal now.."

His attention lifted back up, back to level his gaze to her’s. "For the first time, I am uncertain and more certain all the same. I truly want time with you after this, if you will give it knowing all of this now.” A step backwards was made to allow her some distance. What he lay before her tended to be a shock for some, and he did not know what it meant to her to know this, so he allowed her some three feet. “Will you accept this?" Hushed had become his tone, the words sliding off of it with apprehension. What he asked wasn’t if she would accept the information he provided her, but if she would accept..

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

  "Accept what?” Uriel may have moved away, putting some distance between them, but May’s bare feet was shifting upon the ground to make up for it. Without the weight of shoes, honestly one of the most wretched things to have ever her touched her body, she moved more easily within the confines of the cavern. It might have been a cold, harsh floor on her bare feet but it would not stop her from rounding his body so that she could slide up against his back. “Mortality?"

Hands would take point, slipping easily along the length of his spine where the girdle did not touch. "A man without magic at his finger tips?” Hands branched outward to slope along his shoulders, dragging the tips of her nails in a light fashion until they came to rest at each outer elbow. “Perhaps just that. A man in place of a Fae?”

One hand slipped away, finding one of the rear daggers so that she could slip her fingers around it and use it as a grounding point for when she stepped forward to fully place her body against his. Pixie’s were, by nature, a playful creature. It was part of the reason why she so seldom could remain still for extended amounts of time and why she continued to move her free from his elbow to his hip.

“Mm, poppet – my poppet. I am almost insulted that you think so little of me.” A tease played on her lips as she came to rest her head on the curve of his spine – paying no heed to the presence of weapons which had pushed into her soft, malleable skin or that he might one day be much simpler than he was at that moment, at least partially. “It is not power which dampens my body at the thought of your hand laying upon me, nor is it your mortality that makes my heart quicken with the anticipation of what my slip from those pleasant lips. I am a mutt of my own kind, so why should I view you differently than what I am."

The hand on his hip slid upward, just slightly, to pull back his jacket so that she might comfortably trace the length of the girdle’s top across his chest. "We are all weak, in the end, at that. Just as we are quite perishable. Tomorrow might not come for any one of us, so why should we not embrace what we have on this day?” And just like that, the pixie was slipping her body away from his – releasing both his torso from a winding an arm and the rise of a dagger beneath a coat from her hand. All so that she could slide herself in front of him so that those small, warm hands could rise up and cup the curve of his face. “You are my poppet. The details on what you are, are simply as malleable as time.”

Uriel ( white wax warden )

His chest tightened, her words running through him like the very blood in his body or the air he currently needed to breath. Were he to do without it, now, he felt he might fall and wither at her feet as a lifeless corpse would. A man in place of a Fae? Had she truly..? His heart fully melted, yet he mustered the strength to remain still even as she lifted him from the stone floor he stood upon and into clouds above. Accepted. She wanted him regardless of the thing that had hold of him, or the beast that slept inside him.

His inner world took a change, he felt as much. From grey clouds and magenta-colored lances of lightning that flashed consistently with a dry barren land littered in edged weapons did the skies part. Blue, as the clouds spread themselves open to reveal a sun that existed somewhere, somehow, all along. It was not that he would do without power.

What he had was a very matured and cultivated soul, something that would sate the eater of it for at least three hundred years without a need for another due to it’s sheer size. The energy radiating off of his soul, however not unlimited, could still very well be used.. Uriel could still very well be a terrifying force to be reckoned with, even if he might not be nigh-invulnerable.

Her hands found his face, her touch as soft as satin and warm, and receiving. She ought to know.“Laviune Scipius–” -You are my poppet. The details on what you are, are simply as malleable as time. Pools spread in surprise, as much surprise as one could show for being who he was. It was not that she did not care, but that she cared more than expected. What a fool he had been, concerned that she would reject him as he had himself for all of these centuries?

A gem among an immeasurable pile of rocks, Mayawhilup had proven to be. What power she held in those words!

There was some silence after she interrupted him, internal conflict difficult to win. He could pin her to the wall now and give her what she expressed she terribly wanted until she wept in pleasure and could take no more of his exploration, he could sink down into her as he pinned her to the fur and nibbled the mark beneath her breast and took her until they passed out, among the many other things.. Sucking in a small breath, he sought still to see reason. “If tonight may be my last night, then you must allow me to spend it with you regardless of what comes next. Come.” He stepped back, offering a hand of left. He still chose to keep the glove on, choosing not to risk concern to her of what she might find beneath it.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

“I plan to,” Spoken in the most haughty of voices, her eyes trailing from the tip of his brow to the tips of his toes. “Over, and over, and over.” Fingers slipped along his palm, the dainty looking tips sliding beneath the sleeve of his coat before she was twisting them beneath so that she could gain a secure hold on his wrist.

Again, she closed the distance between them. For whatever reason had lingered within her, for reasons untold and still as yet unknown, she could not easily or comfortably find herself apart from him. Instead she was quick to rise up on the tips of her toes so that her lips could find a place against his. It was a fleeting motion, at least in comparison to all those others which she had adorned him with – and he, her – but it was only the precursor to one more round of,

“And over.” Mischief seemed to linger in the eyes of a being which stood pupil-less, with the slight up turn of her pink lips and the presence of her tongue slipping along the blunt surface of her teeth, “Until I have my fill."

Perverse little thing that she was, she was slowly dropping back down on her heels before her body was set into a quarter turn. Still, she kept her hold on a man who could make her heart weep and shatter if history began to twist and repeat itself once more; the last love she held nearly forgotten as her reasoning to find the very point which had caused Uriel and herself to meet. Revenge no longer played on the pixie’s active mind, though the idea of getting down and dirty remained – simply in a less violent form.

"Let us go murder the unholy beings so that we may find joy in our own company.” A glance over her shoulder was given before bare feet began to move swiftly along the cavern’s surface – drawing him, or releasing him if he did not wish to move quite yet – to the exposure of the turbulent snows which continued to rain down from the heavens and continuously refresh it’s presence throughout the northern quadrant of Faerie.

“My queen,” Inzalya greeted May almost instantly, her head dropping so that the hood of her cloak was masking away a fair portion of her features. “I have prepared the best means to get you to the castle before night falls."

With toes dipping into the snow, May allowed her gaze to transfer from the presence of the fair skinned Lady to that of the two magnificent Cu Sith which had lingered in the snow just beyond a large sled. One of the beast, as white as the snow in which it had laid atop, was reminiscent of a buffalo in size, while it’s murky green companion had only been two-thirds of it’s kin’s girth. The shaggy beasts, dogs in some form or another, rose up from their languid positions to look towards the Queen and her companion before a single hand gesture from Inzalya had them rising up completely to prepare to disembark. "Impressive,” Was all that May had said.

Taming a Cu Sith was not as simple as a horse – especially to pull a sled through a blizzard. Regardless, she continued onward until Inzalya was pulling back the various layers of blankets to show the comfortable padding in which they were to sit through the last leg of an otherwise long journey.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Impressive. He seemed to think in unison with her, even though she spoke it and he did not. Inzalya was present with a pair of beasts alien to what he had seen before, and he had been given a lengthy amount of time to see things that would have made man’s mind collapse. Beasts of transport. Clever. Although unfamiliar with the types of beasts that those two were, he could very well determine that they appeared to be canine in origin.

I plan to. Over, and over, and over. ..and over. That was a promise he resolved himself to keep. The Fae made it difficult to see reason as clearly as one should, yet he was undisturbed; the Judge took comfort in knowing she intended on investing her time towards building a future with him. And you will, my Fae. You will come, over and over, and over, and over again.

On approach to the sleigh with Mayawhilup leading the advance even while the biting winter’s edge wailed into them, his steps halted once it was reached.  “Thank you.” He knew very well that Inzalya had not done any such thing for him or with him in mind, and that Mayawhilup was her only focus, but there was some gratitude experienced for the effort she placed for his Fae.

Down upon the sled did the much larger male seat himself, the sound of clicks lost in the howl of the wind as two buckles secured the garment shut. Like this, his Fae had his lap for reservation and warmth, and more important, security. This was to be the last part of his mission, of her quest, and then what was to happen afterwards would be their choice and not another’s!

A turn of the head and survey of his surroundings were made. If Mayawhilup and Inzalya managed to travel as far as this cave in spite of the unforgiving weather, who else might have? It proved difficult to capture signs of life with the wind howling as loudly as it did, but he listened even still for the sounds of heartbeats, breaths and crunching snow. Caution was the best approach.  Were there any potential threats that had a possibility of attacking them?

Now there were two in his charge, one which meant more to him than anything else in existence and another female who appeared to be rather capable of survival herself.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

It was with ease that May took it upon herself to slide on to Uriel’s lap; shifting her weight slightly so that she sank down between the comfort of his thighs before leaning back and letting herself rest against the firmness of his adorned chest.

It took only seconds for Inzayla to draw the covers upwards and secure the warmth of the two passengers before she was stepping at the rear of the sled. The tall, lean woman was shouting words at the Cu Sith; two very massive beings that typically would not listen to such commands. Pepper May surprised when the sled lurched forward – sending them into a pace that was quite quick. Well, too, quick. She was drawing her legs up into her chest as she hunkered down into Uriel for warmth, clutching the various covers while equally lifting them to hide her face away from the brutal, cold wind caused by how swiftly the beasts had made it.

A six hour trip was to become three – the Cu Sith cutting their time in half would make her arrival to the Courts earlier than she had intended but Inzalya had different plans. The woman, who neither flinched at the cold or spoke a word as she used the two wooden handles of the sled to direct and guide the Cu Sith, knew that the earlier they arrived to impress the new Queen’s will, the better off they would all be. It doubled in helping the pixie-queen maintain her energy for the events that would befall them this night. Though none could have guessed that they eruption of violence they were to face would come when there was but a half an hour remaining before they breached the city walls.

It was May’s voice that was the tool to alert that there was something amiss, “Magic, I smell it.” That sweet, buttery rich voice was muffled into Uriel’s chest when she first spoke, but she was soon lifting her head so that she could gaze towards the undead man who kept her body both heated and aroused. “Mag–” It was all that she managed to get out of her mouth before the searing pain of the bracelet on her wrist cut out the remainder. “Fu-uck,” She hissed, shaking her hand and lifting it from the blankets. No sooner than she could let her flesh catch the breeze, the snow erupted beneath them.

A heavy pressure of something composed of ice seemed to detonate at just that precise moment beneath the sled; overturning and throwing it’s occupants in a variety of directions while the straps maintaining the Cu Sith snapped – leaving the fae-dogs to run off in the direction they were last pointed towards; the massive stone castle which had begun to fill a majority of the skyline.

Despite her crestfallen body, crumpled into the snow almost immediately, and the malady that came from having her body jarred and thrust against the harsh presence of ice not two inches beneath the snow, she was immediately pressing the palm of her hand down as bare feet scrambled to bring her upright so that she could attempt to locate the ones who chose to initiate a surprise on the future Queen and her steady companions.

It was the breath of air that smelled distinctly of Inzalya and her magic that alerted her to the cluster of individuals that had begun to spread wide in an attempt to circle them atop the patch of ice which they had spread in the bareness of the frozen oasis just a handful of miles outside of the Winter Castle. The woman was actively seeking to combine her gifts of telekinesis and frozen water to create daggers of ice to follow the command of her hands as she wove them forward at their attackers.

Dozens, two of them to be exact, at least if May could count such correctly while attempting to gain her bearings and her footing, reeking of both demonic and fae magic alike, sought to eradicate the small band from the world using weapons, projectiles, and whatever magic they held at their disposal.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Heavy, powerful arms practically absorbed the much smaller female as the closed over her. A low hiss as he was reminded by this, and the thick scent of arousal based off of her proximity. These devils need to be slain already. Impatience was a luxury he was allowed to afford himself after such a time without her. …? It made sense to him. There had been others long before her, as to say that a two-thousand year old immortal had not taken the company of a woman or attempted to forge a lifetime with someone was the words of the naive; Mayawhilup was, again, something else entirely for him. She made sense, right there in his arms, when the world around him could be in an erratic state of chaos and hostility.

Tucking of chin allowed for it to come pressed to the top of his Fae’s head, allowing her the warmth of his exposed throat against her face or cheek even as the Winter struck out at them like a revnant–felt yet hardly seen–clawing for their living(somewhat) flesh. At the cost of one and a half hours of time, something teased his senses. However harsh the weather may have been to his body, frost having somewhat taken to colder cheeks and brow, he had known a gift of such peace to have her so close for so long. Brows furrowed, he stiffened as pores of exposed skin tingled strongly while leather-clad flesh did so subtly, to the sensation of magic hazing the air with it’s presence.

Magic, to his kind, was like a mist in the air that could be felt although not quite seen unless incredibly potent, and he felt as though they had stepped into a cloud of mist washing over them like an ocean. One. Two. Three. Six. Nine. Fourteen..no, more. The numbers could not be sorted after,  the harshness of their future battleground causing mild anomalies in his capability to sense threats.

Down to Mayawhilup did his gaze fall, near-ebony pools watching as she hissed to the alert Sera gave her. Sera. You have your task. See to it! Yes, Master. The voice was soft and monotone, devoid of emotion, and it rang in his head. With the item on her wrist, Mayawhilup may have heard it should she have listened.

An exertion of tremendous pressure all of a sudden, located beneath their sled, launched the sled as well as the three of them into the air. Mayawhilup!

Time seemed to slow to him as the two-hundred and ten pound male sailed through the sky, hardly even caring for the small shards of ice which had found their way into the back of his right hip which had most-assuredly been intended to find Maya’s instead. Into the snow and submerged ice with a ground, rolling from the severity of the throw and how close he was to the explosion. Mine. Shrapnel. Punctured in four places. The femur is snapped. It would be painful, but it would heal on it’s own in several minutes and the damage was more superficial for one such as he. Femoral artery intact. This body can remain in it’s semi-alive state, provided it does not suffer lethal damage to cause it to be otherwise. His assessment complete, gloved palm of left pressed to the white that blanketed the ground.

Lift of frame until the full height of six-foot-two was assumed, the sounds of battle drew near-blacks to the dagger-wielding woman fighting with everything in her body against an overwhelming group..and Mayawhilup was not far from her! Relief taken in that she was safe, the right hand began to rip the shards from his leg. While, again, not a threat of mortally wounding him, they could interfere with his movements. The pain was mostly dulled by the cold, internal and external, and whatever pain did manage to be triggered was bearable for to him.

Tinge of redness like a crimson haze leaked off of the shoulders of the coat, demon energy released and allowed to roar through his body in a single, spurt that unleashed a violent burst of speed. Snow kicked up in a flurry from the vicious movement, the exertion of which had triggered a small explosion due to the low traction and resilience of which was stood upon. Movements were a blur that could hardly be found as distance was closed within seconds.

Secure the vicinity. Protect Mayawhilup and support Inzalya.

Objective determined, the short time required to cross the space between his previous and his new was approximately two-point-thirty-three seconds. An explosion of snow before the weapon and magic-wielders to the left of Inzalya,  hand of the right having already secured Nemesis to procure the weapon’s strength, and was also already drawn upwards and dropping down in mid-swing to the chest of the first one anticipated to fall. The force of the swing coupled with blinding speed would have created such momentum that the devil’s chest split open and he was quite literally thrown away from the tall fae woman.

Another explosion of snow as movements quickened again, another severe intake of demon energy to send him flying to the next nearest target marked for elimination!

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

 So casual was the Winter Queen of the Faerie Courts; stretching arms high above her head and letting out a slight groan as she stretched her body to it’s peek. All around her, in the most casual of assessments brought on by the slightest turn of her head in either direction, were enemies who sought to prevent her from taking her mantle fully. A glance was spared towards Inzalya, but she knew the woman would do what she could without even thinking about it.

A longer look, perhaps a full five seconds worth, was cast towards Uriel as he immediately jumped into the fray. She hadn’t heard the words of Sera or even Uriel when they communicated between one another, she was simply sticking to making her quiet assessment of those which had began to engage her companions as a means of distraction so they could get to her. The moment that one was close, she was shifting her feet; a dance of her body easily being coaxed along as she evaded the sword wielded to cause her arm. May’s body tended to move in such a fashion easily; a twist on the ball of one foot while the other leg lifted in the air so that the bare limb rising from the fabric of her skirt could send her momentum forward towards a Fae which held his sword high in the air to sever her.

The kick was effortless, knocking him to the ground before she was skipping to drop herself down on top of him before he could recover. A bruise would linger on the curve of her foot but the pain it brought on was steadily ignored as she sat on his chest.

“Bleed for me,” It was a whisper and a sigh combined into one before that cap on her magic popped off. The weight of it in it’s abundance seemed to lash out on it’s own before the half-second of thought had her focusing it on the fae; reminding his body of all those injuries he had sustained throughout his semi-immortal life. Weakling; her mind had quickly worked through what little resistance he had before he began to scream out in agony as wounds split and began to bleed across each an every limb. Not a paper cut, broken bone, or bruise was forgotten before another approaching had stole the hand from his forehead so that she could twist her upper body to see the next to attack her.

It was without thought that the gift which Uriel had bestowed upon her had manifested; the length of it protruding from her wrist where the jewelry had lingered. It took a full three seconds before her fingers sought to wrap around the weapons pummel. It was, in effect, radiant to the eyes of a being that had a mild obsession with things that were shiny and beautiful – a pixie thing, unfortunately.

The surprise of it’s appearance however, had left her momentarily stunned. The same could not be said for the demon which had begun to bare down on her with murder on it’s mind.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

The wisps of magic in the air were thick enough to confuse those sensitive to it’s flow if they were not excessively experienced in battling users of magic, but the tint of murder in the air which teased his emotions with more than the mere caress of usual told him how intent their attackers were. The snow exploded at the feet of the nearest unfortunate target, drawn-back Nemesis mid-swing motion such as to filet through fur and cotton, and metal, from the momentum gathered in the act of moving and striking, which cleaved through flesh, muscle and bone like a hunting knife to a fallen game.. and they were his fallen game, they simply were not yet aware. This was Mayawhilup’s kingdom, but this battlefield belonged to him.

It was time they knew their place. Battlefield awareness was a requirement for survival, as no measure of strength, speed or training could compensate for that. To Inzayla, nearest to him, he found her holding her own well in spite of the overwhelming numbers. Blur of motion of left appendage while bent to the elbow had searching digits securing a grasp that caused the material of glove to groan in protect to the strain, turn of lower-half with a swing of hip with quickly withdraw the leaf-bladed dagger.

In the same action of drawing, the short-bladed weighted weapon spun through the air and sank into the nose of Inzalya’s nearest opponent. Wide-eyed, open mouthed, the demon was bereft of it’s life before it could meet the snowy ground it was literally thrown to from the impact and off-setting of balance along with a resounding THUNK of satisfaction.

To Mayawhilup was his attention stolen to next, eyes narrowing as the fae called Sera unconsciously to sword form. Teeth grit, knuckles whitening around Nemesis’ hilt, flow of crimson wisps increasing exponentially to the point that one might have mistaken wings for one second. Snow kicked up, explosion of concussive force and exacted in the act of tearing across the field. Wind whipped in his wake, drawing a tailwind and actually caused the four demons closest to him to stagger and fall on hands and knees off balance. A peripheral illusion, or a furious vampire elder? Which one was the more-immediate concern for the demon attacking his Beloved?

Body strained under the excessive and overflowing power which charged his body to travel at such a rate of speed, hand of left ripping through the g-forces which generated friction from such a large amount of matter knocking aside oxygen molecules and creating a small vacuum in the process, until the tip of a middle finger could be secured by teeth for a jerk that brought his chin upwards. Black circlet present across the back of hand filled with the terrible white that spilled out and clung to flesh like a carnivorous mold, swiftly overtaking the hand and forearm, but this was all that would be allowed. By the time the demon was within range to be punished, a hand of left secured the left temple of Mayawhilup’s attacker with pointed black 2" talons at the end of each alabaster digit, the downwards tugging motion to bring him down to the snow such that the soft power exploded around the Judge and his prey. An eye of left now pitch-black, thin crimson veins visible and pupil missing completely, the opposing gaze of the demon was one filled with utter terror. What terrified a demon?

“H-Hellspa–"

Indeed, the scream that came next was bloodcurdling, the sounds of sizzling flesh and the scent, and feel, of very, very potent demon energy…vanishing. Snarl escaped the mouth of the beast-man as he stood, a turn of the head to reveal the same left eye which starkly contrasted it’s hetero-chromatic partner.

What lay at his feet was a shriveled shell of where a demon had lurked, leathery skin and burned out eyes, and a charred hand-print across the left temple. The smell of burning skin and hair filled the area, but was exaggerated by the breeze which swept it up and carried it further on. "You would dare?” Fury, contained as much as could be possible, was conveyed through pointed canines, swivel of gaze to those that remained around Mayawhilup.

Who would he devour next?

Part Five

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

"Mm." May's voice was soft as she rose up, prancing herself closer towards where Uriel had lingered; it was not the most opportune moments in time nor was it something that she could rightly control, but Mayawhilup Dunot was a creature of habit, if that habit had included doing whatever felt right when it felt right. Regardless, she was there to stand beside him, her free hand reaching outward to slide down the length of his arm as she gave him a more appraising look than she might normally would have. "My big, strong, sexy man." The tip of her tongue rolled in her mouth to make a sound that was akin to a purr and a Puerto Rican rolling their 'r' all while that hand had deviated, momentarily shifting long enough so that she could give him a firm swat on his backside. 

The pixie mutt was moving not a moment later, the weight of the blade had felt quite foreign in her hand but it brought back memories of a time that was not quite forgotten. A time when fighting demons occurred on a daily basis, where violence and passion had lived hand and hand. There was a roll of her wrist as she set her body forward, attempting to gauge both the weight and speed in which she could swing the blade -- abandoning those deviant and playful thoughts to and of the man who was not quite human. 

Instead she was flinging herself forward towards the first fae individual she had come across; leading not with sword or fist but a single turn of her heel which had jutted a like-sided hip outward to   provide the first movement of momentum along their icy playing field, twisting her body with a delicate sort of ease before the blade was lifted upward and sliced through the Fae's neck. The spiral sending her skirts outwards as she fell into her dance. 

May was not immune to the sight of blood, it neither induced panic nor caused fear to creep along her skin. Yet the moment she succumbed to the violence, it sang through her with that need that had been birthed since Erebis had first taken that willful need to survive and molded it into something more potent and deadly. Before the headless corpse could even fall to the ground, she was smiling. 

A tune decorated her tongue as feet that had slid through the gore and left a track of movements that were not quite as quick as Inzalya's, who had beckoned the wind to assist her in both chopping down her opponents with a blade constructed of hardened air and to project her body faster than the eye could see. 

Nevertheless, she moved effortlessly in her twisted form - abandoning an easy opportunity to kill the next Fae she had come across in lieu of swinging the blade low to amputate the leg from the rest of the dark haired fae's body.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

Sera's edge was as thin as a molecule and flowing like a river,  so it's cuts were to the flesh of it's victims like nothing they had known. Concealed beneath thin layer of leather save for the alabaster hand, the terrible waxen power manifested as the thing of nightmares standing a head taller than the more commonly-known things. 

A monstrous breeze kicked from the form, buffeting out the skirts of his coat and exposing close-fitting leather pants and the cotton shirt, and the sealing wounds across the legs. Hatred, and hunger, were the only two impressions which could be gathered from the pressure exerted in that split second, and it was likely safe to say that the original owner of the body was dozing off. 

No! No! He would not succumb! He was.. he was not a beast! 

Teeth grit, the sickening sound of re-arranging flesh escaping as the breeze died and the molded wax receded like that of a drain tugging it into the abyss beneath that was the black circle across the back of hand. The sound of racing footsteps and heaving breaths, the steel of a sword slicing through the air and the howl of it as it neared. Bend at the waist, descent of upper-half with maintained center of gravity shifting. Grace of a predator hunting for as long as hunters existed, or longer, expressed as toes of boots twisted and body rose to it's full height with a white-knuckled grasp on the handle of Nemesis in order to bury the entire length of the enchanted blade into the mid-section of it's prey with both edges leveled horizontally. 

Time seemed to slow as processing of information took to being the primary focus. The spine is split, the stomach skewered.. A twist of the wrist exacted a cry of agony mixed with race, upward shove upon the handle to alter the leveling of the weapon until the end was directed more towards the ground. Single, cruel, brutal jerk of the handle then caused the length of the long sword's blade to be freed up from above the right shoulder! Dead before he could find the ground to decorate the snow in the blood which had yet to already splatter and steam against it's icy comparison, hand of left secured a grasp on the handle of a broadsword from the cold grasp of the fae's corpse. Turning at three-hundred and sixty degrees provided momentum and speed, two key things to allow for an easier deflection of the next enemy's spear which had been directed to his back, riposte of short stroke from Nemesis in a well-bladed horizontal sweep above the chest and beneath the collarbone for a burst of blood to escape. 

No mercy for the devils that direct their swords to my Fae! 

A second stroke, lower, angled to the snow, opened the torso which it's victim immediately abandoned the spear to attempt to close before it's organs spilled, which left him open for the brutal THUD that resounded and echoed off of the trees as the new weapon's pommel shattered it's skull from a sudden thrust of it against their face. Turning at the upper-half with legs to follow, steps were precise in closing the boundary of distance that separated Mayawhilup and Inzalya.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

It was, at best, an easy task to rid themselves of those who sought to prevent the Queen from taking her crown. Demons were cleaved so easily through the expert machinations of the entity which had somehow managed to earn her affections (in lieu of the typical hostility which she so easily presented, or inferred, by those around her). The dark depths from which they had crawled would receive their bountiful presence once more -- but May paid no attention to their eventual fates. Her focus rested on those who sought to prevent the placement of that crown atop her pink mane. It was part of the reason why she focused on those very being instead of the demons. Her artful ministrations to give them all the attention needed was easily exposed by the way that those bare feet continued to slip and slide along the ice. 

The very fae which she had severed the leg of was given another swipe -- if only so she could relocate his head from his shoulders and stop the sounds of screeching which had began to fill the air. She neither paused to make sure none of the blood would find it's way to her nimble form, nor would she worry about the state of his body once it had fallen to the snow. 

Instead she paused in her movements to lean forward and pluck the stump of his leg from the ground; considering it. She had no idea how to will away the presence of her companions blade, as obvious by the way that she brought her lifeless gaze down to examine her wrist from where it had been born. The pause left an opening, as those sort of things tended to do - and she was a pixie so distractions were often her failing. 

She could neither see nor hear the demon which had approached her from behind; his limbs swaying as he attempted to get closer to the Judge's fae. He could not have known that Uriel would pay such attentions to her when Inzalya had fallen victim to another demon -- one which had continued to bite at a solid chunk of air that the red haired woman had managed to conjure in an unseen sword to linger just inches from her face and linger in such a state while the beast snapped at the air in some form of confusion on why it could not consume her face. 

Inzalya worked and focused on making the most of it's confusion; one leg bending so that her finely tailored leather boots were planting down into the snow while a hip began to wiggle to one side so she could roll with the beast and pin it beneath her so she could use a margin of her weight to continue to press the air-blade downward as she called to other magics from the frozen water below. 

All of which happened while the Queen considered which would be a better fighting tool - a severed limb or sword. Her eventual answer came just moments before the demon had sprung atop her, and she could not help but enjoy the rush of feeling that came when claws sank into the exposure of her spine and cut through the satin-like flesh that easily bled from it's creamy origins to the vibrant color of her supposed life source. 

It was no surprise when she came down to the ground; her hands holding tight as they hit the ice so that she would not lose the amputated leg or the sword, as her knees skid across the ice beneath. She could smell the odor of it's breath in the air as it leaned forward, ready to take a bite of her petite body, coaxing her to shift her weight onto one arm so that the opposing limb could cross her body and send the severed leg over her shoulder like a club as she felt the drip drops of saliva marinating her skin. It was an awkward attempt to beat something off of her, but she  continued until it's body backed away and she could drop herself down so that it's claws would wretch free from it's hold. Not a peep was to be heard despite the pain, just a baring of sharp teeth as she rolled beneath it to prevent it from finding a new hold and introducing new wounds to her skin.

Uriel ( white wax warden ) 

The thick of battle was a kind of seduction for one such as he, one who had lived with a sword in his hand for so long. 

How many demons had he cut down to climb from that prison so many years ago? How many had he hunted, pursued, slaughtered without fail or mercy, to drag their bodies to build the pile. 

A story often spoke in the Infernus was that for a decade, people newcomers were actually given a sort of reprieve from the torment of that world. It was said that when falling into the pit that was the entrance to that miserable plane that they fell upon a gruesome pile of bile, blood, organs, bones and flesh stacked upon itself to unfathomable heights like none had seen. In a world where death is a literal rebirth to ensure the agony never ended, finding flesh flesh to render lifeless was a simple matter if one had the drive and tools. A breath was taken as the sounds of nearing footsteps turned focus towards the new-coming devil who rushed him sword in hand, with two allies. 

A step was taken forward with forearm of left rising and appendage bending at the elbow, turn of wrist to allow the flat of forged steel to create sparks from the severity of the force of his interfering parry against the intent of his attacker.  A second foot forward, the ice beneath the snow threatening to crack under the force of his step. Blur of boot to the right as it slid over shifting of frame with the act of left boot to follow it's right while the length of the longer-bladed sword in a hand of right swept across the throat of the first attacker while a turn at the upper-half allowed for the dropping axe of the second passed by him and simply cleaved through air. 

Quick, blindingly-fast horizontal stroke of an arm of left created a thin red line across the torso of the fool even as the right arm drew back in a swift riposte to split his jugular veins open. Dropping the axe to gurgle on his blood and to attempt to stall the flow of the fountain which flowed, he fell to his knees only to be met with a merciless left boot to the chest with enough brutal force that the sounds of snapping bones echoed and his dying corpse hit the snow-powdered ground ten feet back and lay awaiting it's end. Mid-motion to embrace the attack of the third, he ceased to the sudden scent of his beloved's blood. 

Distracted. ...! 

The broadsword hit the ground, crunching in the snow, hand of left darting upwards with splayed digits to catch the dropping blade. The scent of his own blood filled the air, but the opposing force behind muscle and bone sufficient to interrupt the strike clearly aimed for his face. Wrapping blood-covered digits around the blade rather than retreat, the weapon was held in place while the base of Nemesis' blade came to the left shoulder. 

Ridiculous. 

 To think that Mayawhilup had been harmed while under his protection. Hubris. Stinging sensation within the hand of right, the one which held the long sword. Nemesis was punishing him for his hubris. To think that she would be incapable of harm while in his presence! What did he think himself to be? A god!? 

The sound of a cry of surprise, and terror, escaped from that fae-impersonating demon, as the length of the long sword passed down across the chest, through the collarbone and danced across ribs, split the heart on the left side and opened the torso in a single downward pull. No more time for them. The coldness returned. His Mayawhilup had been harmed. Her subject was being attacked--another under his protection, his possession. White and red-knuckled grip formed across the handle of the enchanted blade. His Winter Queen would bathe yet in their blood. 

Forward he strode with the grace his race held the reputation for, crimson hue tailing movements reminiscent to an aura of malevolence that guided and amplified the force and swiftness of actions for the sole purpose reaching her. A boot met the ribcage of her attack, the sound of a CRUNCH unmistakable as five of his ribs were utterly pulverized from the force of a brutally-placed right boot. Upwards rather than outwards, the hapless demon was airborne in that split second while Nemesis was lifted upwards to follow much faster than his flailing body could ascend, passing clean through the mid-section and splitting him clean in half there, outstretching arm of left performed with snatching digits to secure the dying creature by it's hair. 

 Reeling the halved devil closer for the precious last few seconds that it would know it was dying, Nemesis passed through the neck of the gasping fool and split his head free.

"Can you walk?" He inquired, tone laced with concern uncharacteristic to the male, continuing past the Winter Queen-to-be on to the situation with Inzalya that needed to be resolved. Sucking in a breath, the sound of a thunk could be heard as an arrow sank into his back! A slight stumble, shift of frame to the right more than forward, grit of teeth faintly teasing the ears of his enemies as their only reward for their success. Approaching the red-haired female who seemed to still be outnumbered in spite of the skill she exhibited, a left arm rose and bent at the elbow with searching fingers in effort to reach for that troublesome arrow.. 

"Gather in!" 

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

Even as Uriel asked the question, May's body had already begun to mend. Flesh and muscle began to knit itself together in that trademark fashion that came with one whose greatest skills had been healing. The truth of the matter was that unless she was constantly being distracted, tortured or injured, she could focus her magic on stitching the flesh together in mere seconds. 

"Thank you, my poppet." She had replied softly, demonstrating her ability to stand rather than speaking to such a thing. 

She daftly maneuvered one foot forward after the other until she could rise up to stand at her full height. Shoulder blades were given a roll as the last lingering bits of flesh were closed together and the wounds were gone from sight -- not a scar visible to the naked eye, thanks to the use of her natural born glamour that had always lingered just on the surface of her flesh. One day she would let Uriel see them all, of that there was no doubt. Perhaps then he would think differently of her body -- but given that he had neither balked nor showed a moments hesitance when the largest of scars, the one she had never bothered to hide, had appeared ...Well, it was almost safe to assume that he would not find them quite as appalling as some. 

For now, however, there would be nothing to see beneath the long strands of bubblegum pink hair that had found it's place shifting along the length of her body. "I grow tired of this," She spoke as she lifted the severed leg, pointing it towards the mass which had still lingered. 

How many had they disposed of? Seven? Eight? 

"I cannot even take a moment to appreciate the beauty of a severed limb!" Those cheeks were puffed up and she was tossing the leg behind her as she brought her eyes to her poppet. One which had an arrow sticking from his body and had instructed both she and Inzalya to gather in. 

The red haired fae woman had followed instructions -- freeing herself with assistance so that she could sprint across the snowy and ice laden field to join Uriel. 

Whereas the Queen in Waiting was tired of waiting. She was neither known for her patience during battle, nor was she known for her kindness. While she walked, because she was tired and bored with running, she was lifting her hands skyward. Words came without sound on her lips, forming her desire as she let her lashes fall half-mast. "I am hungry and it's time for me to ea---" 

Her words were cut off as Inzalya's arms wrapped around her, hefting her effortlessly off the ground before she was running back towards Uriel. 

"My Lady you must preserve yourself. Do not show your cards before you've even reached the table!" Inzalya was scolding her in a discreet but winded voice before she was dropping her to the ground beside Uriel -- more tenderly than she really wanted to. Seconds before she was lifting arm and working a hardened barrier around them to prevent more arrows from piercing their bodies. She was rosy cheeked and the sounds of her pants were growing louder as the moments crept on.

Uriel ( white wax warden )

The sensation that crept across his spine was something akin to the terrible scenes he had witnessed in his past, or so that was the feeling which emanated off of Mayawhilup. What was she--? Inzalya apepared to know, having quickly silenced her of what strange thing she was about to do that he could only surmise was a very, very dangerous spell. He knew some things of magic, utilizing the energy of his soul or demon to evoke effects, but nothing like the terrible feeling that came off of her in those seconds. An arrow met the flat of Nemesis blade, deflecting the projectile from finding it's way into either Mayawhilup or Inzalya, and another sailed past the three of them until the invisible wall began to stem the imminent tide of arrows that began to rain on them. The benefit of drawing closer to each other was ensuring that they could cover each other in a fight more efficiently, but the consequence was being a larger target such as they now were. Narrowed eyes shifted about his targets, counting, determining the amount of a threat that each one individually possessed to the three of them, analyzing their body language and weaponry, the sweat on their brows and their heartbeats. A breath was taken in. Lifting the right arm and bending at the elbow, the hue of azure could be seen shimmering beneath the sleeve as energy generated by his soul was pulled. "Scutum." Or shield. Light, the actual photons that normally and naturally scattered to cast visibility on their surroundings, obeyed instantly and took to a strategic positioning that consisted of a flat wall four feet wide and six feet high. The base of the shield was thrust into the snow and the ice beneath. "There are too many. Both of you. Come closer." To the snow did that large tower shield fall, flat and very capable of being used as a platform.. He had cracked the ice in three locations already that he could recall, photographic memory serving to trace his first some thirty feet East of them before having rushed to Inzalya's aid in which his landing had left two small sets of cracks near her location. Ice was brittle, and enough abuse over time..--that was North-East. To the South, just ten feet of their current location, the ice had been cracked when he had devoured the essence of that demon. This is just a massacre waiting to happen. A keen eye could spot everything in a battle and use it to their favor, and he aimed to do just that. "Mayawhilup. My energy lingers there-" Motion of hand to the first source of the cracked ice--"--there--" To the second, where Inzalya had been fighting for most of the battle--"--and to our backs. Make it detonate." Attention shifted to the first location, the soft pulsating ripple of what one could only describe as hunger escaping. The inner-beast was allowed enough reign to alter one eye, blackening it entirely with thin veins forming throughout as the Hellspawn surfaced for just the amount of time needed to touch the distant energy, and slam it into the ice with devastating force!

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

Inzalya would be the tool for which to be used; Mayawhilup had a distinct lacking ability to control both ice and air (at least until that crown was snug upon her head) but it was the taller, fire-haired Fae woman which had been able to pickup such a slack. Her fingers, free from the weight of the petite mutt's body, had spread out as she took in a breath that expanded the width of her lungs and forced the organs to push against the bindings of her ribs, before she was letting it out. The magic breathed as she let the air flow from her lungs to her lips and pushed at the world around them. The Queen's maiden had grown battle weary with the sheer volume of those which had sought to prevent their arrival to the Winter's Castle. The ice was punctured through her will and collusion of intent, a small thing which she could have typically done with her eyes closed, but the scale of it at that moment was practically gut wrenching. The Fae woman would come to use all that she had in order to disrupt and fracture the ice further so that when she took in that next drawing of a breath and her arm wrenched upward, she could use the force of the air which had seeped between the thin surface of water and air to collude the demon's footing into a fracture that would send shards of ice upward when it came breaking apart at the seam. No more than a foot in length, she would continue to pour and rip until the foot was otherwise lost to those which had sought to cause her Queen harm. All the while that very Queen was moving to stand behind Uriel so that a small set of fingers could reach out and slide along the coat where his shoulders had bridged. Not a word was mumbled as she reached for her own magic, nothing of a stirring to the outside world around her, just a simple probing force of her will for his flesh to mend and close on itself so that the injury would neither prevent him from doing whatever it was he was attempting to do. Just as before when she had worked to make his cold, supposedly lifeless, body to create heat by invigorating and replicating the blood cells while forcing his heart into a kick-start, the typical healing gift would work in the same fashion but with bone, muscle, tendon, and flesh. It was only when that arrow-driven wound was sealed shut would she let her magic further implore his body to help take away the pain of battle -- and it would be in that moment which his body would feel off; corrupted in terms of how it had felt the first time she issued her blessed gift of restoration upon his body. But no comment nor expression would allude to what she had discovered -- the pixie-mutt took little time to process it, as Inzalya was quickly falling to her knees as her mystical gift ran out. 

Uriel ( white wax warden ) 

To ask such effort from Inzalya with her finite reservoir of magic was to be a taskmaster, he knew, and yet to ensure that these two survived with him it made it so required. Her control over the two elements was impressive, exceeding his own by heights unknown, yet with every passing second that she tapped into her resources to generate a wall of solid air to prevent the arrows that rained against it and attacked the thick sheet of ice thirty feet before her and ten feet behind them, he knew she pushed herself to her limit. A breath was sucked in as tips of fingers grazed the material of his damaged coat, the tickling sensation of her fingers a mild distraction from the cold sensation that had invaded his body terribly. It was less of a temperature and more of an internal, unexplainable chill that promised to devour all the warmth in him forever if left unchecked. The wax was spreading; he could do enough to surpress the monster within, but to do so would damn those two.. I must. If they were to survive, he would need to bear with it.. "Thank you, Mayawhilup." The oddity she felt, the corruption, and the introduction of her magic, may have very well given her the glimpses of the long corridor and the terrible white door that stood at the end of it demanding him to open it, and the staining horror that lie behind it.. Teeth grit as the sensation of corruption spread further across his body, this time at a rapid pace while focus applied to the imagined sensation of the waxen presence creeping down the lower-left ribs and sides, burning it's way across flesh as it climbed down a hip of left and swept across the rear to spread to the right, and traveled down further still to the powerful legs which kept him standing. Stretching out the left arm and bending it at the elbow, the scarlet-haired fae was to be secured by the waist to make certain she did not fall into the ice should it weaken in front of them. A notion of the brow towards the wide, thin barrier of light that lay in front of them. Scooping Inzalya up to his chest, an arm of right reached down to secure Nemesis to shove it's length into it's sheath. By now, the invisible wall likely collapsed.. "Impressive, Inzalya." He gave her his praise, then turned at the waist to find his right arm around Mayawhilup's waist. By the time the fae queen was within hold, the wax had spread across the legs and down to the feet, coating and altering his body on a level that science and most magic could not explain; to explain briefly, the inner-Hellspawn was allowed to take over and transform the left arm and both legs! Thin stream of blood spilled from the left nostrol, and the sensation of a pop was felt within his head. Sharp, buzzing, searing pain exploded in the left temple and vision blurred. The soft sound of an escaped growl between grinding teeth, tensed appendages with knees bent. Having built power within legs to prepare for what was next, the following act was to kick off of the manifested shield of gathered photons with such tremendous force that the kick-off pressure exerted caused the improvised platform to smash into the ice beneath it and, so to say, nail in the rest of the coffin for the demons. Shards of ice exploded around their feet as they launched skywards, and forward, to the safety of the snow-covered land beyond their assailants who began to frantically and futilely seek stable land. The howling wind of the winter was only about their feet for mere seconds, and the descent was a shock to even the Hellspawn-altered legs that bent at the knees to brace for the impact due to the unstable transformation. To their backs, the demons were sinking or swimming in frozen waters, but ultimately they were damned to that frozen tomb. A breath escaped, of relief and exhaustion. Head shook as fuzziness took to the head and the darkness loomed on the brink of swallowing vision entirely. He could stay in this state no longer, he dare not risk it! Releasing Mayawhilup and bringing a knee of left to the snow, the sounds of re-shaping flesh could be heard from beneath leather and cotton as well as be seen as a shifting from beneath, as the awful wax began to recede by sheer force of will. It was seconds later that his face met the snow, and the blackness took him

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers ) 

Things happened, as they were capable of doing, and the expression on Mayawhilup's face ultimately became one that reminiscent of concern -- at least as much as one such as she could project such things. What had taken place with Uriel's body and the transformation of flesh and bone into something untold had rendered her (amazingly) speechless. Inzalya's inability to function had left her blind to such an occurrence but May was in a distinct form of appreciative awe. Had she not already claimed the undead being as something to cling to, she might have surely figured out some way to remove one of those transformed limbs and secure it within one of the various jars of appendages that she kept hidden away. Regardless, once she had her footing restored and the sounds of the demonic entities that sought to prevent their arrival at Winter's castle crying behind them, she was left to watch the very man who had rendered such a thing, along with her maiden's effort and ability to control their very surroundings, fall to the ground in a heap of presumed misery. Those boots, which had become wet with the heat of her body melting the snow and ice which they had battled upon, would shift upon the open field so she could come to stand between the pair of her companions. Nimble legs were slow to bend at the knee before she reached out with either arm so that the tip of an index finger could drive itself softly into each of their cheeks. "Exhausted so soon?" Amusement had decorated the soft tenor of her tone before she was directing the colorless gaze of her eyes northern towards the outlining shape of the castle which they had only been three hours from arriving to before they were ambushed. The Cu Sith were nowhere to be seen and only the fallen Inzalya could call them back to her, and there had been no signs of caves or shelter for which she could use in order to tuck them away until they were restored enough to wake and the journey continue on. It was a predicament which she was uncertain how to solve. There came a moment when she considered abandoning the pair, but the slight affections she had for one and the greater affections that she wielded for the other had those once poking hands shifting so that she could grab each of their arms. "You are both lucky that I will find great use for you in the future." She knew that she was talking mostly to herself but that would not keep the pixie-mutt from slowly rising and adjusting her hold so that when she began to move forward she was, in every sense of the word, dragging them behind her. It was a blessing, for that moment, that she was mutt. Only the strength afforded to a pixie (which was expanded to something greater since she was so long cursed into her over-sized form) would allow her to drag the equivalent of three hundred and fifty to four hundred pounds behind her. The length of time she could manage to continue such a feat was questionable, at best, and just how chilled the pair would be by the time she found some sort of shelter forced her to worry that they might be useless and frozen by the time she found somewhere that fire and safety could be temporarily afforded.

Michael ( white wax warden )

The pale digits could be seen grasping hold of the snow from beneath the veil of darkness that was cast on the ground by the mass of the tree blocking the light of the full moon. Not quite pitch-black at night and with just enough light in the sky to cast the slightest definition of it, the shadow was a perfect doorway. Tugging on the cold, powdery water slushie was annoying and the cold wasn't his favorite place to be, but it wasn't so bad that he'd leave a friend hanging. Ebon-painted nails were pointed, slightly, and they certainly dug into the earth beneath the snow to secure a firm hold before the appendage bent and a tug was performed to bring him through that very darkness and into the winter wonderland. "Baby, it's cold outside!" Hands slapped together in a clap, half-whimsical half to reach farther to the pink-haired fae beyond the howls of the weather. The trio were approached regardless of whether she turned to look his way or acknowledge him, or speak, or anything, until he was so close to the two that he could see them more clearly. Dipping into a squat, the pinstripe slacks stretched against the appendages that bent in the action and leather dress shoes groaned softly to the folding of material. Deep-green strands, once slicked to the side, were messier than the last time he'd been available. A pair of shades could be seen, thin-wired and dark, off-setting against fair complexion, yet matching the rest of the dark attire that clothed him. "There's a cove.." A turn of the head, focus unseen as the drop of eyelids for several seconds... "That way." The left arm stretched forward and a little to the left, index finger indicating the risen alpine. "It's empty. I can guarantee that. I'll explain when we get them over there. C'mon." Hands secured the larger male first, taking him from the fae queen to throw him over his shoulder. The smaller, lithe, tall red head was then scooped up by the left arm so that his hand could push against her ass to bring her over his shoulder with the other male

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

On any other day Michael would have been met with something that would have been just as flamboyant as the very man tended to be -- but just like the last time the fellow had decided to show his face, the pixie-mutt was focused on something that made the small woman grumpy. Just like the last time. "Your appearance would have been more effective not thirty minutes prior to this moment, chitling." Those lips were pursed slightly as she addressed him - her eyes not bothering to relocate their gaze to his face. His magic tasted familiar on her tongue as it danced in the air around them, it afforded her the ability to know who it was who decided to materialize and provide a helpful hand -- or body, at that moment, given that he was moving to scoop the dead weight she had dragged behind her into his arms and toss them over each shoulder. A more common response would have been the application of gratitude, a smile, or something that might show how appreciative May was at his appearance and subsequent ability to tell her just where a cave was and where they could hunker down for shelter before the next volley of demons, fae, or whatever-the-fuck-else decided it wanted to interrupt their trek to the Winter castle. But May being what she was, she would only plant her hands on her hips and turn to stare at the mass of man, "Don't drop them." The tip of that slightly rounded nose was presented to the sky before she turned, those layered shreds of a skirt flaring, and proceeded to move in the direction which he had prompted.

Michael ( white wax warden )

"That'a'girl." He clicked his tongue, lips curving softly into the glimmer of amusement that was scarcely felt due to the gravity of the situation, but expressed with intention of keeping up appearances. Where was he when his white wax warden: apprentice and those two were fighting for their lives? Preparing the safe house so that the heat could die down..which was an odd way of describing something when it was minus thirty fucking degrees outside! Whatever he was, which was surely different than any of the merry band, he had little effort carrying the larger male of two-hundred and ten pounds plus equipment, and the thin red-headed fae. Trotting through nearly twelve inches of snow was less than pleasant for the being associated with fire such as himself, but it was a farcry from what could be the end to him. Past some trees and half-frozen shrubs, small juttings of snow-covered boulders could be seen littered across the field between them and their sought opening. "Who was dragging who, again?" Another click of the tongue, his sound of disapproval. In all honesty, had the thought occured to her, she could have called to him for help. ..then again, how was she to know that he was close by and listening? What about the fact that he was breaking a rule simply by interfering, and he would be facing all kinds of annoying consequences afterwards? Oh well. Screw it. If what I'm expecting is.. It would be worth it to see the smug expression wiped off of her face, even if it meant he had to take on missions nearly suicidal even to him. Closer to the entrance of the opening in the mountain, he stepped in with a motion of a hand of left in the form of an inviting beckon to toe fae female, then glanced to the center of the small room that awaited them. With the slightest narrow of eyes and the sudden trace of primal, and potent magics, the air within the room warmed considerably to a comfortable level and a small orb of gathered flames twisted in a flurry of red and orange until it became what could only be described as a floating ball of flames one might have believed to be a star billions of times smaller than the ones seen from the night sky outside.

Mayawhilup ( crown of flowers )

"Exactly," Was what the woman had to say about his imploring as to who was dragging around her companions like sacks of grain. Her stare was most challenging whenever she allowed her gaze to flutter in his direction. "They cannot be dropped if they have already found themselves upon the ground." A firm nod of her head was given as hands shifted from hip to waist, crossing the length of each arm in front of her as she sought to battle off some of the cold; one day, perhaps, she might sit upon her mantle and fully absorb the gifts associated with being the Winter court's queen. For now she was left to suffer the chill with the rest of them. "I suppose they will be most thankful you have allowed them to escape frostbite." But, once again, she would neither show her appreciation or vocally express it. As it were, she would continue on in a pinch of silence until they had reached the very cavern which he had pointed out such a short time prior. The rise in temperature was something that had caused her next glance to become something slightly askew but she would not comment on it, just as she had not commented on Uriel's physical transformation before he had joined Inzalya into a near catatonic state. She would, however, move her slight body closer to his so that she could assist him in placing both the Fae woman and the Undead man upon the stone base which had been devoid of snow. "Do you care to share such information as to why Uriel has manifested such endearing phsyical abnormalities? Or will I be left to discover them while I probe his body and attempt to return him to his natural state?" Wordy thing. She could distinctly recall the days when she only spoke to bother people -- oh, how they had become sorely missed. 

Michael ( white wax warden )

Well, she was helping at least. With the large Uriel and smaller nameless female being laid beside each other on the cove floor which would take some time to heat to a comfortable temperature, a turn of the head brought his attention over to the fae queen..though he'd always had his attention on her, even while not looking her way. The shades came off with the asistance of a left hand, folding the ends to tuck the accessory into the inside of his coat to reveal those strange nebula pools. "That's an easy one, and a not-so-easy one, to explain. How to explain ringworm other than that it's transferred by contact and that it spreads? Or a paper towel to blot a spill, and how the towel seeps the liquid and the dampness spreads to take more?" He sighed, shaking his hea to the thought of just what he had to explain. While he was willing, he knew that he was sharing information about a friend that was not a thing he told just anybody. "You're lucky he loves you. Like, how an alcoholic loves his drink." Dropping to plant rear to the cold floor, legs were crossed beneath him for a more comfortable position that compacted the space he occupied with his body. "To put it simply--he's in mid-transition to becoming a Hellspawn. ...a--" Hands lifted, digits folding save the indexes and middle fingers to perform a quotation-- "--'warden of hell', to better describe. They're basically the things that demons piss themselves over, down there. Oh, and he's normal again. I'd know if he weren't." Shrugging, his gaze shifted over to the unconscious male. "I know everything about him as far as his service as a Judge goes. What I don't get, though, is why the signature of his demon energy is so low that the most it can do is keep his undead body from decaying. He really overdid it to keep you guys alive, yeah, but it should be re-charging, and it's not." He frowned, the expression a rather strange one for the trickster to give. He had a good idea of just what it was, but without confirmation.. "Something's wrong with him."

[the-broken-sl-blog]

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