Trog's Second Floor XII

[Holy-hunter]

With a painful groan he slides half naked into the tub of water in the corner of his room, Marcino was a man of style and he could hardly rock up to his casino in old torn bloody clothes, wreaking of death and violence.
After all he had at least some small level of class and sophistication of his own.

As the treated water washes against his wounds and the exotic oils seep into his skin he grinds his teeth tightly, and toys with the card given to him by Niara in his fingers.
How long would they be? What happens if he pushes the button? Would she handle it if he was not here? Then his thought drifted to the casino, what was waiting there for him.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Room 5

It's... A room, that much could certainly be said about it, for sure, but Hitomi would struggle to find any other adequate descriptor. She'd never seen anyone make a room in Trog's more their own and less Trog's-like and her blue eyes dart from one item in the room to the other, categorizing his possessions before he even fully lets her in.

It's just a moment of staring wide-eyes at the bag on the floor, with it's eerie air, before her curiosity on this particular matter is sated.
Clapping her hands together, she turns to look at him, bright green hair drifting along her as she spins like some strange halo or aura.

"So what do you want in exchange for your blood?"
Straight, to the point, and falsely cheerful.

[Holy-hunter]

Room 5

It's... A room, that much could certainly be said about it, for sure, but Hitomi would struggle to find any other adequate descriptor. She'd never seen anyone make a room in Trog's more their own and less Trog's-like and her blue eyes dart from one item in the room to the other, categorizing his possessions before he even fully lets her in.

It's just a moment of staring wide-eyes at the bag on the floor, with it's eerie air, before her curiosity on this particular matter is sated.
Clapping her hands together, she turns to look at him, bright green hair drifting along her as she spins like some strange halo or aura.

"So what do you want in exchange for your blood?"
Straight, to the point, and falsely cheerful.

In reply his smile fades to pressed lips and he raises a hand out to her, extending his index finger vertically, positioned infront of her lips. His guesture intended to quiten her haste.

His free hand snaps out as he clicks his fingers producing a small red flame in the palm of his open hand, the room comes to glow in a different softer, duller more flattering light as lit candles extinguished and others flared gently to life.
An exotic calming aroma instantly fills the air.

His eyes focus on the dancing flame in the center of his palm as it slowly shifts through various colours ending in a green very similar to Hitomi's hair. With a sudden clap he extinguishes the flame.

If Hitomi's eyes are attuned to the concealed magics of the infernal realm she will see spell triggers activate, a stream of magic run through wards and empowering circles hidden throughout the room.
There was an intricate web of delicate spell craftery, with such detailed design that would awe a schollar of nearly any school of magic.

Behind him a sudden fiery form appears from the shadows and slowly settles as it seductively steps forth revealing a scantily clad succubi, inheritant detailed features aside she appeared a mature form of Hitomi. Horns similar but larger, hair as green but longer, she was leaner, taller, stronger, more exotic and from the look in her steamy eyes and pouting lips, more sultry by nature.

She had clearly not been chosen at random.

"Child, you should know there are formalities that should be upheld before such a discussion of bussiness"

He lies to her convincingly. The succubi aproaches from behind him slipping a hand over his shoulder giving Hitomi a very familiar 'lady killer' smile.

"If there is nothing we can get you how about you start with what you are willing to offer" he announces flatly seeming only half interested in what she may have to say.

[RabbitHoleLost]

How...hypocritical, considering his urging earlier to hurry her point up. Pink lips turn down in a frown as he works his magic. Everything is well prepared, plausible enough to be nearly convincing, and Hitomi finds herself wishing she did believe it all - it might have been easier, in the long run, to play the young and inexperienced demon, but it wouldn't give her what she needed.

Blue eyes (a blue so blue it couldn't be found in humans or in nature) turn to the other succubus, a fun house mirror reflection.
He wants to make a point - he's a collector, and he think's he's already got one of her and in vintage.
"How cute. You look like my mom, before I removed her spinal cord." Hitomi smiled, her nose scrunching cutely.
"Time for you to go, though. Go on, scat."
The stranger-succubus would feel a pull, a desire to obey, though if she does depends entirely on the strength of her connection to BT.
Either way, those burning azure eyes turn slowly to BT, her cutesy, childish smile melting away like ice in fire.

"Isn't it just like a man to assume his dominance in strength. Tch." A slow shake of her hair...and with each pass of her head from side to side, the spring green strands grow out longer, her horns grow and curve, the youthful softness of her face melts away until the woman who stands before him is no longer the teenager she was just moments before.

"Let me tell you something, kiddo. Your arrogance is astounding, superb, even. I've been bound to stronger magic users with purer blood than you with less egos and not one of them had ever made one of the countless mistakes you've already made."
With a huff, Hitomi returns to her younger form. All it takes is a heartbeat, a blink, and she's staring up at him with the eyes of a young adult, as if she'd never been anything more.

"No wonder that necromancer ignored you completely."
Of course she'd noticed.

[Holy-hunter]

He now seems a little more interested, watching her with an inclined eyebrow as he wipes the succubus's, now tightly gripping hand, from his shoulder.
As he casually discards her grip she softly retreats backwards against her will and begins to fade away into the shadows, her cold evil stare burrowing into Hitomi the last fading image to disappear.

The back of his hand takes another sweep of his shoulder before he places it down on the table.
"Well" he says with a taunting grin, "you can huff and puff but I'm still waiting" his head shakes ever so slightly, seemingly unphased if not slightly disappointed by the recent events.
His fingers begin drumming on the table as he lets out a deliberate yawn, impolitely implying she get on with it.

"Truer blood?" He mumbles questioningly to himself. He seemed to have selective hearing as half the comments, if not more, just rolled right off him.

[RabbitHoleLost]

"Hmph. It's impossible with you. Hurry up, slow down, hurry up again. Do you want this directly or don't you?"
Her arms cross over her chest and she continues to stare up at him, expectant, but when he chooses to ignore most of what she's said, all she gives him in return is a heaving sigh and a roll of her eyes.

"I don't like men." Hitomi shrugs again.
"Mostly. But I've got the run of a clan, including it's current monarch, that I can offer you the use of. As well as anyone else, actually. I'm something of a special snowflake."

She seems oblivious to the fact that this isn't something to brag about, tapping her forehead with a slender, tan finger.

"Ability to regulate chemicals in the brains of living creatures. Or even freshly dead, depending."
It doesn't explain the inclinations she planted in his succubus's brain, of course, but she isn't going to spill all of her secrets.

"Favors in exchange for vials of blood. Something's after me and you've got enough power to give me the boost."

[Holy-hunter]

"Hmph. It's impossible with you. Hurry up, slow down, hurry up again. Do you want this directly or don't you?"
Her arms cross over her chest and she continues to stare up at him, expectant, but when he chooses to ignore most of what she's said, all she gives him in return is a heaving sigh and a roll of her eyes.

"I don't like men." Hitomi shrugs again.
"Mostly. But I've got the run of a clan, including it's current monarch, that I can offer you the use of. As well as anyone else, actually. I'm something of a special snowflake."

She seems oblivious to the fact that this isn't something to brag about, tapping her forehead with a slender, tan finger.

"Ability to regulate chemicals in the brains of living creatures. Or even freshly dead, depending."
It doesn't explain the inclinations she planted in his succubus's brain, of course, but she isn't going to spill all of her secrets.

"Favors in exchange for vials of blood. Something's after me and you've got enough power to give me the boost."

He watches his fingers as they continue to drumroll on the table, her words find his ears tho and without looking up he quickly interjects, "what's chasing you?"

[RabbitHoleLost]

Another shrug serves as her singular answer.

[Holy-hunter]

Another shrug serves as her singular answer.

While he wasn't watching her body language hit rhythmic tapping comes to a sudden hault. His hand and gaze hold frozen as the room is engulfed in a strange silence.

After an 'awkward' moment he brings himself to stand. Now looking down at Hitomi his eyes almost emulate pity. He speaks in a cold harsh whisper, as he leans in unintentionally the shadows grow from the darkness in attempt to great him even as the flames on the candles unnaturally grow to torch fires hovering upon their slender base.
"so the all seeing observant child undead succubi, the lessor of each species, is being hunted and is scared. You seek to plead for power with pityfull ofference. The only purpose I would have for your miserable clan would be to deliver their souls to an eternity of torment.
You think I would be impressed by your simple shifting?
I will deal with you occasion by occasion only that I may take pleasure in returning your insult.

With that he stands back and rubs a thumb across his out stretches wrist, sure enough blood begins to pool out of an open wound and as it runs around his forarm and falls to the table below.

He watches her daringly, it may be the only blood he offers and he taunts her to take it right now, testing her desperation, her desire.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Eyebrows knit together as Hitomi regards him, eyes travelling between his face and his hand.
"You know what? Forget it."

She's not easily riled beyond a bare irritation, her personality mild to begin with. A measured step backwards, she reaches out for the door, wrapping her hands around the knob as her powers reach out with an attempt to touch upon his mind.
Pheromones are easy enough - it's anger she's looking to incite in him as she makes her way out of his room.

[Holy-hunter]

She taps into his rage and there's an ever aware presence around her ability but is seems not of his own will.
It floods and she knows she was successful but his demeanour does not give to it in the slightest.
As her hand touches the handle the entire wall bursts to life with a loud crackling hum as an anti demonic field hurls vast amounts of bright sparking electrical like holy energy into the point of contact.

He merely moves to the loose sack on the chest and removes a bandage.

"Leaving so soon?"

[RabbitHoleLost]

[Room 5]
Recoiling her hand with a quietly murmured curse, Hitomi rolls her attention back to him fully.
Where ever Inigo is, now, Hitomi's thankful for the enchanted blue stone that rests at the hollow of her neck - a valentines present from six years before, and the only reason she's not in serious agony at that very moment.
"And here I was hoping to see you rage somewhere else while I skirted away." Slowly, she rocks back and forth on the heels of her boots, collecting her hands behind her.

"Don't you have something better to do with that rage?" Like fingers, the tendrils of her powers drift along, looking for cracks in his emotional foundation.
"Something that doesn't involve trapping a teenaged girl in your room?"
Baiting him, now - she's already revealed she looks young because she chooses to, not because she is.

[Holy-hunter]

There were many opportunities in her open words for his arrogance and smugness to belittle her but instead he hardly replies.
Bandage half wrapped, slowly soaking as blood seeped through the unfinished cracks he sits crouches hunched over the bag with his back to her.
Hitomi might easily notice his hand trembling, it's in his voice too, his words now deep coarse and rough with a hint of desperation. "Undo it" he tries to demand, "what ever you did undo it NOW!" His trembling becoming more erratic as his voice sounds increasingly more beast then his own with his growing desperation.

[RabbitHoleLost]

"Or you'll what?"

Tough words, but by the time the last of them have drifted past her lips, it's already done, unless otherwise prevented. His anger flattened, she pulls on a little calm in an effort to smooth everything over, searching deeper for something comforting - a smell or a sound, anything to douse the fires of his rage.

"Everything alright?" There's something almost resembling softness in her voice.

[Holy-hunter]

"Hmph" he softly grunts as he seemingly struggles to stand upright. "Of course" his hand still shaking runs through his hair.
As good as he was at lying and deception, the fear in his eyes was something even he couldn't shake or disguise no matter how relaxed he tried to make the rest of his body seem.

He looked to Hitomi for only the briefest second before turning his back on her, hiding his trembling hand as he continued to bandage it.

"How many vials were you interested in?" He asks almost politely, reminants of what just happened evident by the strain in his throat that is projected out on his words.

If Hitomi is not too caught up in the present she might not understand where the calming notion derived from, as the further she dug (and something about what was happenening gave her a deep easy access) her search was met only with objects that would arise fear pain loneliness and despair for as far as she searched. She may have even seen the link that lead them all to the same darkness, a deep unrelenting self hatred.
And ...she was not the first to see or access this tho...

[RabbitHoleLost]

Her ability doesn't allow her to see the what's or the why's, it simply allows her to pull on emotions, like strange stray strings, to create chemical reactions in the brain which influence one to feel.
So Hitomi doesn't see the stirrups of emotional chaos - she simply witnesses the aftermath, the loathing of which she cannot hope to guess the target.

"I told you to forget it." There's nothing insulting to the way she speaks to him now. It's all just flat.
"Bitter people have bitter blood."

Almost as if the exchange hadn't occurred, she turns, pointing to the door.

"Can I go now?"

[Holy-hunter]

Hitomi will notice now that every spell designed around, or focused on demonic energy is broken, throughout the entire room.

"Be gone, and think twice before interrupting me and my time again" he adds still not looking her way.

Like almost always his words were a lie, there was at least one task he had desired her for yet still he pushes her away, now more so then ever he wouldn't let himself seem needy. The matter of the boy in the sack would have to wait.

For a small moment he considered imposing his dominant will upon her, attuning to her magical essence and attempting commanding obedience with pure binding magic.
But as arrogant as he was he knew when not to gamble the limit of his powers. The day had been long and tiring.
But still, he was growing an absolute hatred for this demon. Almost forcing him to do what he hates the most, give up.
Almost.

"If bitter people have bitter blood, then what of the innocence of care free youth?" A sudden change in his attitude sees him smile and turn to her.
"The courageous and friendly of holy lineage? A lineage that causes untapped potential to corse through their veins unbeknown to them...
I would easier trade another's blood then my own."
He dose his best to make it sound enticing as he turns and walks to Hitomi, stepping slowly on each word waving his own bloody bandage around the room.
His words soft and drawn out rolling of his tongue as he uses his best sultry tone as if trying to seduce her.
He didn't know enough about her yet, it was a long shot gamble. "Well?"

[RabbitHoleLost]

Hitomi will notice now that every spell designed around, or focused on demonic energy is broken, throughout the entire room.

"Be gone, and think twice before interrupting me and my time again" he adds still not looking her way.

Like almost always his words were a lie, there was at least one task he had desired her for yet still he pushes her away, now more so then ever he wouldn't let himself seem needy. The matter of the boy in the sack would have to wait.

For a small moment he considered imposing his dominant will upon her, attuning to her magical essence and attempting commanding obedience with pure binding magic.
But as arrogant as he was he knew when not to gamble the limit of his powers. The day had been long and tiring.
But still, he was growing an absolute hatred for this demon. Almost forcing him to do what he hates the most, give up.
Almost.

"If bitter people have bitter blood, then what of the innocence of care free youth?" A sudden change in his attitude sees him smile and turn to her.
"The courageous and friendly of holy lineage? A lineage that causes untapped potential to corse through their veins unbeknown to them...
I would easier trade another's blood then my own."
He dose his best to make it sound enticing as he turns and walks to Hitomi, stepping slowly on each word waving his own bloody bandage around the room.
His words soft and drawn out rolling of his tongue as he uses his best sultry tone as if trying to seduce her.
He didn't know enough about her yet, it was a long shot gamble. "Well?"

He's like whiplash, the changes in his mood and voice and the way he presented himself to Hitomi and she found it hard to keep up with his rollercoaster emotions.

Her hand on the knob again, Hitomi hesitates as he delivers his offer. The blood of innocence and of divinity left a feeling of hunger crawling up the back of her throat, her body trembling.

"And what claim do you have over this blood that is clearly not your own, that allows you to give it out as such?" She doesn't look to him but keeps he gaze on the solid form of the door.

[Holy-hunter]

"Like a typical man" he says quoting her from earlier, "dominance from strength." And with a flash of movements he rips the sack open revealing the contents.
The figure in size, barely large enough to be a young man. His bone structure apparent through his wilting skin, his thin feeble frame and dry deep gaunt features tell of struggle with starvation.

Up closer nearly all his bare skin shares space with bruises or scars, worse still, horridly his face is a repulsive saddening sight.

His eyes wide open, a thin roughcut stretch of skin sits at the base of where eyelids belong and his sunken eyes surrounded by the darkness of his skull are a glazed milky white, covering a lost pupil and iris. Dry blood stains his lips under his crooked nose, his sharp protruding cheek bones bare no symmetry as one is crumbled.

His mouth sternly shut tight was smeared in blood but not from his nose. What appear as cracks run vertical across both lips to meet a pinpoint scar, while dry blood filled cracked crevasses within his skin, below his own blood lies a sharp thin wire.

The air that squeezes past to escape his lungs makes a horrible noise. A sickening gurgle that twists into a raspy whisper then as unconsciously his body pleads for oxygen it goes in reverse, the dry raspy whisper turning into a sickly bubbling gurgle.

He stands over the boy expressionless, watching Hitomi, judging her reaction.

[RabbitHoleLost]

[Room 5]

Eyes dart from Bad Touch to the wreck of a figure he exposes and then back to him again, taking in the width of his shoulders, the state of his physique and comparing it to the body.

Somehow, she feels it wasn't a fair fight, blood purity or not

"You can't be serious. If I take any blood from that thing, it'll be dead by sunrise.
Are you trying to poison me?" Her gaze narrows on him, suspicious. Strange how this man could dissolve her upbeat nature when even being threatened by a stranger could not.

He seems to bring out the worst in people, that was for certain.

"What's your plan, here?"

[Holy-hunter]

Spoiler: ROOM 5

Show

He had turned his back on her while she spoke, not in rudeness but deep contemplative thought, his elbow rested in one hand while the other cupped around his jaw, his fingers massaging the stubble of his beard.

As she finishes speaking he turns to her, dropping his hands revealing a soft honest smile, not accentuated by any ulterior motive or desired outcome, it was not worn as some small piece of detail of a larger disguise. It was just a genuine reflection of the thought in his mind.

He once again slowly steps to her, his palms open outwards at his side signalling a peaceful approach as he prepares for and understands any hesitation his actions would rightfully bring.

As he closes the space between them he talks to her, he uses a voice currently unheard of to her, spelled with a simple spoken accent that he himself had almost forgotten. His voice not resonating with command or authority, no hints of arrogance, sarcasm or seduction. Pure expulsion of words to fall upon and create meaning.

"I am sorry for the games and lies, I, it, it was an error to make assumptions of you. I need the boy alive more then you could imagine, but not well, that's why I have been seeking a necromancer... Lets leave that concern for a moment"

When close enough he will raise his hands and cup them on the sides of her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes, truly looking at the real her.

The softest whisp of a blue glow flashes beneath his brown irises, a hint of a lost purity drowned in a deep sea of darkness, a feint glimmer of hope lost to an eternal consuming hatred, it's also a tell of his chronomancy magic that opens invitingly before her and even more a hint of his dormant holy linage for he too was of Aasimar blood being just under a quarter angel, that being the source of the magic currently flaring to life before her, it didn't impose itself on Hitomi like it had Rabbit but instead welcomed her to join in with him and share the effects of stepping outside of time.

As soon as she accepts the gift, her world is flooded in a new light, while brighter, also clearer and she may quickly understand his advantage over other summoner's. In a game where a minute detail could be the difference between having the power to hold a demon at bay or have it sunder your face off, surely few could muster a focusing circle as precise as his talent would allow him.

His second advantage becomes clear as while their body's still travel at the limited speed of their physical capabilities his mind, his will, works as fast as his free flowing thoughts, and as he gently begins pressing his will onto her, working the ancient art of demonology, she can react just as fast thanks to him.

He begins slowly drawing his energy around her, ensuring she is aware of his actions and intent.
It had to be considered a rash bold move, firstly to make such an attempt without the aid of any tools of the trade, no advantageous pre-ritual or empowering circle, no hidden runes or safety barriers.
To even skip even one of those was a foolish move and here he had none, further more he invited her in to his advantages gently warning her of his attempts.

It is in no doubt not a malicious attack, instead it seems more like a test, wether it be him testing her or perhaps himself, that is unclear, but nonetheless it is extremely unnatural.

Having no need to summon her he instead attempts something a lot larger, darker and more dangerous then simple commands, an art known by very few that walk the dark path and practised by even fewer, self possession

Such an attempt has multiple potential outcomes, the best possible but seemingly unlikely would be for him to succeed, forcing her to posses his body spiritually, but him remaining mentally in control, granting him somewhat varying access to her energies and powers.

Hiccups in the process can lead to severe physical deformities as her body, or parts of, physically manifest in the possession state.

Worse than that is the outcome where she completely manifests within him, causing excruciating unimaginable pain as his bone and muscle impolitely grind and tear into a new form resembling a mix of the two creatures, or that of her tearing out of him. Even after she has assumed full control, played him like a toy and willingly left, his body remains the abominable hybrid.

These are the two most severe case outcomes, the plethora of tangibles can lead to plenty of alternative unpredictable minor outcomes.

To start he will completely strip away his own natural and powerful human defences, instinctually they act as a strong and effective barrier at keeping average possession interested souls at bay.
He removes them slowly layer by layer, making a display of it, standing spiritually naked before her.

This dangerous move leaves him open and venerable.
Failing to be completely free and defenceless however will cause massive physical damage as the body tries to reject the union.
His first battle lies within himself.

Secondly it's a battle of the might of wills and prowess of infernal and demonic energies.
Ethereal tendrils leach from a defenceless astral form of his self.
They wrap around, he wraps himself around, her natural barriers that exists before even applying her own defensive will.

Standard practise at this part is subtle trickery and deception, ferocity and piercing manipulation, to sneak through or around the mental ethereal defence.

He foregoes standard practise and with enough will and energy blankets her entire being, however his attempts of imposition are far from familiar, it's more of a gentle caress slowly searching for and forcefully pushing against open weak spots or cracks in her shields, unlike the aggressive stabs and sudden barrage from multiple directions that is taught.

He seeks to find a way into her very being where their two energies will converge and entwine, if he cannot harmonise their spirits, if he cannot create a truly fluent union then terrible outcomes await him.
Once (if achievable) fully emulsified her physical form will cease to exist but in a cloud of mist. Using any remaining energy he must draw this back into his waiting body, for the final fight for control.

((Feel free to godmod, try not cause too many long lasting ill effects or damages...))

[RabbitHoleLost]

[Room 5]

Spoiler

Show

Most men were untrustworthy.
Especially when they wanted something.
Especially when they had pretty faces with which they were accustomed to being given what they wanted.
It's a fact Hitomi has learned throughout her long, mostly-slumbering life, as injury upon injury, fresh wound upon old scar, had built and harbored bitterness until distrust towards male-presenting beings was as natural as blinking, as breathing.
Inigo had been an exception. Modest in appearance, he'd been honest and open and trusting -easy to manipulate but easy to rely on. The graying swordsman had been the perfect candidate for Hitomi to bring about an heir with and he had suited her purposes delightfully.

It's a shame, she realizes, that he's no longer around.
(Ironic, too, that it's his once-death that pushes her to make deals with distasteful demonologists)

Instead, she's misjudged the behemoth of a man before her, slipped up in her desperation for strength and put herself in an unforgivable position.

She won't forgive him.
She won't trust him.

His words are soft and laden with apologies, but Hitomi doesn't take a single word to heart, doesn't believe a syllable, the gentle curve of his lips, or the supposed honesty in his eyes. Prior behavior, not only of Bad Touch, but a millenia of men before him, speaks more than any honeyed words that drop from his lips and when hands touch her shoulders, Hitomi shudders - the only outwardly show of the repression of will, of wanting to take the power of the animal who's horns she shares and lodge her forehead strongly against his nose, but of doing nothing, instead staring up at him, meeting his gaze.
The only truth Bad Touch might glean from her eyes is the only truth Hitomi is willing to show him - a cold ocean's worth of loathing, slender green eyebrows arching high on her forehead as if to ask how dare he.
Whatever purity's to be found, she hopes it dwindled and dies, hopes it drowns- and him with it, all in a cascading ripple of agony.

The vampire-succubus is so rarely angry, so rarely stirred to something beyond a mildly positive-inclined boredom or cool and collected vengeance that the rage pours from her, tingles along her skin - surely, surely, even as time slows down around them, he can feel that heat through the tips of his fingers. She imagines it searing him, his skin blackening and curling across his muscles, flesh separating from flesh and the smell of roasted meat saturating the air around them. She fantasizes her fangs piercing through a crispy crackling of the fatty skin, ripping through medium-rare muscle, blood and juices flowing across her tongue as meat tears from bone. Bones would cracked and she'd suck the marrow from their centers, fingers digging around in the cavity of Bad Touch's chest until she finds it, and, gleefully, pulls it free from it's restraining vessels and arteries, that precious muscle that pushes his life through his body.
It's just an imagining, a thought-game that takes moments, meant to calm her, to bring her back in control of her motions.

It only fans the fire, stokes the flames upon the pyre of her rage, and, there between them, it is unmistakable for anything else.
Surely, for just a frozen moment, marbled in eternity around them, he must have doubted that this could, in any manner, have turned out well for him, in the end.

And, so, it should be nothing short of a surprise for Bad Touch to find that Hitomi has no shields in place, no spiritual protection, her natural guards gone by seemingly her own will. Bad Touch will find it no problem at all to wrap the essence of himself around her, to tug and pull at her being.
She fights him not at all, though rage seeps in deeper, filling in the cracks between them, acting like a glue to meld their spirits into a hodgepodge combination, into a singular being.
In moments, there's nothing left of her, not even the black mist.
Nothing.

Bad Touch might be surprised, perhaps, at the ease of which he accomplished such a notoriously difficult and supposedly dangerous technique of his dark arts. He might, infact, feel that smug pride that such an achievement certainly allows.
Whatever small satisfaction he permits himself in the wake of his victory, what happens next is surely unexpected.
It starts like a headache, a dull pain in the back of his head, right where the spine ends. It doesn't cease, even as he might employ whatever techniques he could have at his disposal for such a small and common inconvenience.
His next breath will hit him, as the air seems thicker. The oils on his skin, the smell of the near-corpse he keeps within the room, odors left by previous tenants - each smell assaults him, overwhelms his nostrils, a million different unique samplings converging in his nose all at once .
And the light!
Those candles, as mood-setting as they might have seemed to the demonologist when he'd employed them, are awfully bright. Much brighter than he ever remembers. Maybe that the cause of his headache?
But now it's not just a headache.
Now it's an excruciating pain located in the palate of bone at the roof of his mouth.
In his teeth.

To possess is an ability gifted to demons, and, when practiced by other creatures, can result in any number of horrid effects.
When the creature in question is a demon but also a vampire, those over-dramatic being of lore?
The hunger strikes him as if he'd run point-blank into a wall. Unexpected, it takes over his being and leaves little room for thought of anything else.
Just a rabid, desperate hunger and the pain of his teeth trying to reshape themselves into something they're not meant to be.

He'd better act quickly.
Death is setting into his bones.

[Holy-hunter]

[Room 5]

Spoiler

Show

Most men were untrustworthy.
Especially when they wanted something.
Especially when they had pretty faces with which they were accustomed to being given what they wanted.
It's a fact Hitomi has learned throughout her long, mostly-slumbering life, as injury upon injury, fresh wound upon old scar, had built and harbored bitterness until distrust towards male-presenting beings was as natural as blinking, as breathing.
Inigo had been an exception. Modest in appearance, he'd been honest and open and trusting -easy to manipulate but easy to rely on. The graying swordsman had been the perfect candidate for Hitomi to bring about an heir with and he had suited her purposes delightfully.

It's a shame, she realizes, that he's no longer around.
(Ironic, too, that it's his once-death that pushes her to make deals with distasteful demonologists)

Instead, she's misjudged the behemoth of a man before her, slipped up in her desperation for strength and put herself in an unforgivable position.

She won't forgive him.
She won't trust him.

His words are soft and laden with apologies, but Hitomi doesn't take a single word to heart, doesn't believe a syllable, the gentle curve of his lips, or the supposed honesty in his eyes. Prior behavior, not only of Bad Touch, but a millenia of men before him, speaks more than any honeyed words that drop from his lips and when hands touch her shoulders, Hitomi shudders - the only outwardly show of the repression of will, of wanting to take the power of the animal who's horns she shares and lodge her forehead strongly against his nose, but of doing nothing, instead staring up at him, meeting his gaze.
The only truth Bad Touch might glean from her eyes is the only truth Hitomi is willing to show him - a cold ocean's worth of loathing, slender green eyebrows arching high on her forehead as if to ask how dare he.
Whatever purity's to be found, she hopes it dwindled and dies, hopes it drowns- and him with it, all in a cascading ripple of agony.

The vampire-succubus is so rarely angry, so rarely stirred to something beyond a mildly positive-inclined boredom or cool and collected vengeance that the rage pours from her, tingles along her skin - surely, surely, even as time slows down around them, he can feel that heat through the tips of his fingers. She imagines it searing him, his skin blackening and curling across his muscles, flesh separating from flesh and the smell of roasted meat saturating the air around them. She fantasizes her fangs piercing through a crispy crackling of the fatty skin, ripping through medium-rare muscle, blood and juices flowing across her tongue as meat tears from bone. Bones would cracked and she'd suck the marrow from their centers, fingers digging around in the cavity of Bad Touch's chest until she finds it, and, gleefully, pulls it free from it's restraining vessels and arteries, that precious muscle that pushes his life through his body.
It's just an imagining, a thought-game that takes moments, meant to calm her, to bring her back in control of her motions.

It only fans the fire, stokes the flames upon the pyre of her rage, and, there between them, it is unmistakable for anything else.
Surely, for just a frozen moment, marbled in eternity around them, he must have doubted that this could, in any manner, have turned out well for him, in the end.

And, so, it should be nothing short of a surprise for Bad Touch to find that Hitomi has no shields in place, no spiritual protection, her natural guards gone by seemingly her own will. Bad Touch will find it no problem at all to wrap the essence of himself around her, to tug and pull at her being.
She fights him not at all, though rage seeps in deeper, filling in the cracks between them, acting like a glue to meld their spirits into a hodgepodge combination, into a singular being.
In moments, there's nothing left of her, not even the black mist.
Nothing.

Bad Touch might be surprised, perhaps, at the ease of which he accomplished such a notoriously difficult and supposedly dangerous technique of his dark arts. He might, infact, feel that smug pride that such an achievement certainly allows.
Whatever small satisfaction he permits himself in the wake of his victory, what happens next is surely unexpected.
It starts like a headache, a dull pain in the back of his head, right where the spine ends. It doesn't cease, even as he might employ whatever techniques he could have at his disposal for such a small and common inconvenience.
His next breath will hit him, as the air seems thicker. The oils on his skin, the smell of the near-corpse he keeps within the room, odors left by previous tenants - each smell assaults him, overwhelms his nostrils, a million different unique samplings converging in his nose all at once .
And the light!
Those candles, as mood-setting as they might have seemed to the demonologist when he'd employed them, are awfully bright. Much brighter than he ever remembers. Maybe that the cause of his headache?
But now it's not just a headache.
Now it's an excruciating pain located in the palate of bone at the roof of his mouth.
In his teeth.

To possess is an ability gifted to demons, and, when practiced by other creatures, can result in any number of horrid effects.
When the creature in question is a demon but also a vampire, those over-dramatic being of lore?
The hunger strikes him as if he'd run point-blank into a wall. Unexpected, it takes over his being and leaves little room for thought of anything else.
Just a rabid, desperate hunger and the pain of his teeth trying to reshape themselves into something they're not meant to be.

He'd better act quickly.
Death is setting into his bones.

Spoiler: Room 5, the agony

Show

Briefly he thought her more foolish than he...
And he momentarily was at some sort of resemblance of sadistic peace as he summons and drinks upon the burning turmoil of rage that was her spirit, absorbing it with a dark twisted delight and anticipation.

Had she resisted he could never hope to win, it would have been far too draining, but now.... Her confidence had been her vice.
He could almost taste the sweet nectar that was her infernal being. The unholy demonic energies that were her life were now within his grasp. As her rage filled him it sparked across his lips.
This idea taunted and teased him and pushed him forwards with hast.

When he started, he wasn't really sure his intent or what he was doing, but now with all her energy and power so close he was blinded to reason and worse then a moth to a flame, with a fierce determination he dove right for the prize.

His own rage raises with a thirsty hunger to meet hers and assimilate it, disperse it, destroy it.... But it's all wrong.. It's different.
Where he should anchor into her demonic soul he finds dark hollow empty pockets. Everything suddenly starts to fall apart, his confidence, his control, his gorging rage and smug daring satisfaction quickly spiral, turning into a horrified fear...

Then it hits,

the headache,
the unstoppable deep ache. Followed shortly by the peircing, frighteningly blinding light from wich he could not hide. Desperately he tries to close his eyes to atleast ease some of the torture ànd damage but finds that he fights against his own overdriven magic.
It seemingly takes a minutes of suffering just to bring the shield that is his eyelid between the searing light and his extended alert pupil.
His own magic, sourced to save him in times of dire need now served as a major hindrance, for what ever the horrors were that were unfolding happened in a prolonged heightened-sense, state of awareness. This acumilation of pain and the assault of the air and smell only sort to extenuate the extent his dormant power sought to enhance and protect him. He was caught in a viscous cycle.

Now that his blood was instinctually, desperately trying to preserve him, it's magic separates itself from Hitomi, she remains aware of but not influenced by it.
This extended period of pain it causes does nothing to dull or spread out the punishment, instead the opposite.

The once proud arrogant man throws back his head sharply as his spine arches, letting out a deep horrific raging howl of pain that echo's off every wall and surfacing. His fierce cry followed by a blazing wave of flames bursting outwards, settling on and burning everything his voice touches. (raising the brightness intensely and increasing the burning in his eyes to something now unfathomable.)

His pain was at least 10 fold of what Hitomi could of imagined, and while not externally obvious, was lasting more hours then one would care to count, in his head.
He falls hard to the unforgiving floor, convulsing madly and contorting suddenly in sporadic fits of pain as he claws at his cheeks and jaw bone trying to stop the pain within, unknowingly tearing the skin and spilling his own blood.

His only saving grace was the empty dark madness caused by the consuming hunger. He felt in the deepest depths of himself he hadn't known possible to exist. He had thought he understood the power of a consuming hatred... But to this, his wildest fights of self restraint were nothing but child's play. Sticks and stoned compared to the relentless ferocity that now stirred within. And for as many hours as he felt pain in that still moment on the floor he grew to know the hunger intimately, losing his mind to it somewhere along the way....

His deafening (and self damaging) howl of pain begins to stutter and break, his suffering ever present, but breaking through it is a dark laughter.

His laugh/cry suddenly falls short as his body unnaturally lurches upright and over, forward and he lunges at the child on the floor, teeth in any form, were going to tear its tormented flesh apart.


"Hitomi" a soft elegant womanly voice echo's through her thoughts, "it's so good to see you again my dear, you look well"

The sound is almost soothing, the gentle tone softly caressing her mind. "But" the upbeat happy rythm takes a deep pause then in a stern disappointed reply continues.
"From the damage you have done, you now must go, untill next time, farewell."

Hitomi will suddenly find herself staring at a thin small bent shaped iron '5' it hangs on the wooden door. She is on the outside, in a hallway, free from whatever may be happening on the otherside.

[RabbitHoleLost]

[Outside Room 5]
There's a moment when the succubus-vampire stares blankly at the number, not exactly certain as to what had just happened or why or who.

"Rude." And then she wiggles her way downstairs, wondering if the younger woman had waited for her during the unexpectedly long (and useless) meeting.

[goto124]

(From the main Trog's thread:)

Something stirs in the centre of the darkness. Surrounded and concealed by an extra thick layer of vile fog, the mysterious dark creature scutters upstairs with lightning pace...

Distressed screams soon echo down the stairway.... Sounds like some people need to go up there and sort the monster out while others need to stay and finish off the powered up mutated imps.

(I haven't brought in my character yet, if I even do. Just letting others know.)

[Solse]

From First Floor to Stairwell

Alright, something just happened, and I dunno if I like it or not. I'd say I don't. I'm gonna go upstairs and slay that demon, and fast!

Endrus runs to the stairwell from the first floor, hearing people scream out in terror.

Don't you worry, I've got this!

Endrus runs up to the creature, who seems to be in the middle of attacking some people, and stabs his sword through the creature's heart, or, well, the place it'd be if he had one.

[Holy-hunter]

Endrus, who charged upstairs with every heroic intention. Finds no demon to slay nor damsel to rescue.
(((please don't get to far ahead)))

He is faced with a long dimly lit hallway, with a T junction at the far end. The entire floor is covered in a foot deep of thin swirling unsettling mist.
Numbered doors run down the left wall, the right wall shares with the extended ceiling of the lower level and is therefore plain except for the odd scenic painting and strange patches of a black, slimy, rancid, decaying, diseased, mould.

It is clearly unnatural and very unholy and seemed to be pulsing and ever so slowly spreading, growing, with a strange silent deep seeded malicious hate trapped in its eerie still form.

Silence fills the cold still air and there is no sign of just where the monster went.

[Solse]

OOC: Sorry about jumping the gun. I'm still new to this FFRP thing.

Endrus stabs his sword through the monster's heart, or where it would be if it had one. Or where it would be if the monster was there in the first place. He rubs his eyes and realizes that he must've been seeing things, as there was no monster anywhere.

What was that about? No matter, I'll find this monster. I was able to get a glimpse of it, I'll use my scrying device to track where it went.

Endrus holds out his scrying device, thinking as hard as he could about every detail about the monster. When it goes off of thoughts, it's usually not as accurate, but hopefully it'll work...

A fuzzy picture appears in the dank corridor. It seems to show ...