[center][h1]Diana & Cel[/h1]
[@Scarifar][@Bartimaeus][@Gentlemanvaultboy][@rawkhawk64]
[/center]

Celestine rolled his eyes and bristled, as much as his failing body allowed him to. His usual cordiality and playful demeanor was all but gone, as he tried to keep his composture in this humilliating situation, only to fail spectacularly. He slapped Michael's hand as he gritted his teeth and tried to override the command on his body. [i]Damn, you stupid vessel of mine, move! I hate this body. I hate it so much. Frail like glass. If only...[/i] He staggered in an effort that was more willpower than actual force, only to flop again helplessly, before throwing a murder glare at Ria. "You...know...the...reason, bitch eyes." He said, his cordiality all but gone. "Andras...is...safe...but...she...would...cry...at...this...and...be...not helpful at all...better...demonic...crazy...tramp." Celestine pieced together. 

Diana for the most part was watching nonchalantly the spectacle, a smug grin unbecoming of her plastered on her face. "My my, you have keen senses, Ria... The little cute witch has surrendered her body to me. It's ironic how good magicians are as vessels, they're highly desirable targets for possession." She glared, deciding that four witnesses were just a very small number. "Oh, relax... I'm not one of these...craven beings and their lapdogs. Just ask the pet bellhop over there." She added, pointing evidently at Kheraket.

Feeling the need not to keep the rigorous masquerade any longer, Diana's body flared up with mana once more...but this had a different quality, radiant and otherworldy, with a slight sinister bend. Tracing two fingers, she pointed out at the transvestite doctor as she lifted him with her magic effortlessly. 

"Oh come one, you little murderpuppy, don't let your pride get in the way of needing help." She said. Even the real Diana could not help but feel some kind of wicked pleasure at Celestine's helpless flailing.

"An offer, intriguing..." She whispered to Ria's ear. "After all collecting souls and meeting quotas is such a chore after all..." She finished, emphasizing the word [i]chore[/i] for good.
[hr]

[center][h1][color=f6989d]Meredith[/color][/h1]
[h3]& [color=8dc73f]Cultist[/color][/h3][/center]
[hr]
[@Gentlemanvaultboy][@supertinyking][@KillamriX88]

[color=f6989d]"They taste like cheap spam... what about it?"[/color] Meredith said, her lips still bearing a cruel smile upon seeing the scene. It hit her then. Both of the other people were critical wounded, and these clone cultists were annoying to keep picking one by now, now that the surprise element was wearing off. Yet not all was lost, the other assailant was trying now to flee, even stopping to admonish the others for their folly. It was then it hit home. Demons were supposed to be more nimble. This guy's flight... was too clumsy for a demon. It was not a demon. He had never properly learn to live with his wings, much like she had learnt to fly and walk at nearly the same time when she was a child. She darted, her wings beating furiously, on the prey that was trying to get away, her claws stretching and crackling with energy, targetting the most vulnerable point of a flyer.  The wings. 

[color=f6989d]"You are far juicier."[/color]

The poor demonically empowered cultist attempts twists themselves to bring themselves to bare against Mer, inhaling deeply. As she got close, he let out a scream, a sonic wave to attempt to blast her away. The air shook, and eardrums bled as his wail pierced the air, aimed at sending Mer into the ground. Of course, this blast wasn't at its full power, and it could be felt. While it was explosive, the sound was that of someone mock yelling, a strangled noise.

Meredith took the full blast, and indeed she seemed to plummet, but the half-succubus seemed to have more fight on her.  She drew blood from her superficial wounds, and hastily conjured a healing rune to undo the damage, before climbing in height once again.[color=f6989d]"You fake."[/color] She clenched her fist, as she resumed her dive against the cultist, this time aiming at the wounds he had sustained, energies crackling.

[color=8dc73f]"Fake it till you make it."[/color] He replies, and tries to engage her in a direct fight, claws bared as well. [color=8dc73f]"It's all one can do to make it in this world!"[/color] He declares, as he attempts to strike into her hands, fully wanting to sever tendons and render her mitts useless. [color=8dc73f]"Not all are born with such gifts as you all, and more have them ripped away."[/color] He declares. While his flight was nowhere near as agile as Mer's, he hoped that by closing the gap he'd catch her in his grasp before she could get away. What good was agility if you were claws deep in your opponent?

Meredith just smiled, before she released a point blank blast of demonic energy as she instead went for a full body charge at the last second, with the force of a flak shot against the Demon. It was then when her spade-like tail shot for his throat, like a piercing dagger. She chose not to talk anymore, instead giggling ever so slightly.

The cultist felt the blast strike into his chest, his ribs cracking and breaking, his skin being burnt away to reveal muscle, but luckily for him he wasn't torn in two. He raised his hands, catching the demoness's tail as the tip impales itself into his windpipe. While normally she'd of been able to strike through him, his flesh felt like it was made of something far more resistant to injury than even steel. He growls, before attempting to rip the spike out of his throat, and use his razor sharp claws to either hold, or rend off, the end of Mer's tail. If possible, he'd like to bring her to heel with agony, knowing that his claws hurt when they dug into flesh. Of course he himself wasn't immune to the effects of agony either, and Mer could see something. The man was going into shock, his pupils widening as he continued to try to fight.

Meredith's pained expression contorted in her face, tears drawing on her face, as the bloody tip of the severed tail was promptly cut off. It was sensitive, yes, but also the least important of her limbs. [color=f6989d]"Endgame."[/color] She said. [color=f6989d]"I am a demon of dreams."[/color] She added monotone, as the situation allowed her to draw a sleep rune in the beast's forehead. [color=f6989d]"And you shall call me Empress."[/color] She said, deploying her sleep plundering technique.

[color=8dc73f]"A demon of dreams? I..."[/color] The cultist starts, struggling against the rune as his eye flutter, smirking. [color=8dc73f]"..at least I die, to a proper demon."[/color] He laughs, and does something strange. He catches the dagger like end of her tail, and sticks it back onto the bloody stub. There's a burning sensation as the blood seeping from his chest wound vanishes, and the tail end was reattached. He leaned forwards to whisper something into Mer's ear.[color=8dc73f] "...Finish it."[/color] He says, before the sleep rune finally forces the man into slumber. He was at her mercy, or at the very least, so it seemed. His body began to shift, and change, and went from this monstrous bird creature, to a young man, almost 16 in appearance with his mask still in place. Compared to his other forms, one could label it as pathetic.

Meredith's powers wasted no time in starting plundering the energy of the man, a dreamlike void in his slumber present, while a ghastly duplicate of Mer presided the void landscape. [color=f6989d]"Normally at this point i'd present some fake feeling of solace. Finishing people off is something i have sworn not to do. In the meantime, enjoy being proven wrong."[/color] Her eyes darted towards a couple of ghostly figures, picturing yet another demon of lust resembling Meredith, the so called Nyxdaemona, grabbing a demon child by the tail as if it were a mere bag. [color=f6989d]"Gift? A mere byproduct. I only existed as sacrifice. That is not something I wish for even the worst enemies... I was damn close. So that's why you folks must be stopped. "[/color]

[color=8dc73f]"......"[/color] The figure frowns a bit. "[color=8dc73f]Surprising to say the least, the potential in those with heritage like yours is...immense. No gods, nor masters to rip away your powers. Only your will.....That demoness was a fool to try to use you as a sacrifice. Short term gains, long term losses."[/color] He reasons. [color=8dc73f]"I do not seek sacrifices. I seek power, and this job was a stepping stone. Do not lump me in with fools and madmen, for I am neither."[/color]

[color=f6989d]"Would I show you this, if I thought you weren't beyond redemption? You're like me. A stumbling fool desperate to belong to someone. But for the time being, you shall ... not fight any longer. Gosh, talking this stuffity stuff is complicated. Gotta go."[/color] She said, as the image vanished in the dream. In the real world, meanwhile, Meredith amassed her newfound plundered power, as she flexed her arms. Drawing her claws once more, she drew blood, drawing a massive healing circle. [color=f6989d]"Hey goo guy and machiney, you Mephys are a bit haggard. Let me help you a bit with this. You can call me Mer. I take payments in sweets. Now, let's finish it"[/color] 

[color=8dc73f]"Err, you think I speak like a stiff?"[/color] He asks before she vanishes from his mind. Redemption, loss, a struggling fool? He wondered what the demoness had in store for him. In his mind, he felt like he had some sort of kindship with her...maybe it was the demonic powers, or the pain. Either or, he slept for now, recovering his strength. When he awoke, he'd need to think about this in more detail.