Seems like excitement and activity has waned with the current cast, so giving this a little nudge. Role play has not progressed much, so catching up is not an issue, full of lore and secrets and all kind of intrigue related to sci-fi and fantasy elements.
Rockette
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𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
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Most Recent Posts
I wish Nox a speedy and well founded recovery, I'm personally still recovering while trying to catch up on lost work hours, so I can relate. Requiem will be waiting for her though and we'll move her character along accordingly if and when she returns to us. Give her our best wishes.
@Scoundrel@Dead Cruiser - How're we doing, haven't seen much of either you in the ooc lately, hope all is well. Only one character post for you both thus far.
@FantasyChic@Symphoni - Hope all is well, haven't seen much of you two either in the ooc anymore. Let us know something.
Everyone else is golden, you either post here - every now and again - or have already posted this round. In which I give you my love. ♥
@Scoundrel@Dead Cruiser - How're we doing, haven't seen much of either you in the ooc lately, hope all is well. Only one character post for you both thus far.
@FantasyChic@Symphoni - Hope all is well, haven't seen much of you two either in the ooc anymore. Let us know something.
Everyone else is golden, you either post here - every now and again - or have already posted this round. In which I give you my love. ♥
@Kefka Palazzo - I'll just leave the hustling to you then!
I'm not bringing down the hammer for immediate posts, just making sure everyone is well, thank you for those that have gotten back to me thus far!
In
Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I'm not used to being sick this long - blech. Let today be the last day.
@DJAtomika - Sounds wonderful to me, I'm okay with following this. By my mental time line, she would've entered into her slumber sometime after he became a zombie and whatnot. It was her last time in helping with Maman, though they had parted ways years before, in which Maman stayed in Santa Sombra etc. until her death. Everything works out pretty well.
@DJAtomika - Sounds wonderful to me, I'm okay with following this. By my mental time line, she would've entered into her slumber sometime after he became a zombie and whatnot. It was her last time in helping with Maman, though they had parted ways years before, in which Maman stayed in Santa Sombra etc. until her death. Everything works out pretty well.
@Raijinslayer - Perfectly understandable, thank you for getting back to me so quickly! Hope all is well and continues to go well.
No worries, congratulations to the family though.
How is everyone else doing? Well, I hope.
A couple new terms were introduced into Requiem: Syph and Paragons. We'll get to these soon enough ~
I see some activity has waned, no matter, New Year and all that. I'm recovering, still, from my illness and so I'm a little wapish and worn out from the entire process.
A little heads up or an update is mighty appreciated though!
On this note, I'd love some feedback: is there anything I can do to improve the overall writing experience for Requiem, or something particular any one of you would like to see in the story? Any sort of assistance I can provide to boost activity or inspiration?
Hope to hear back from everyone soon, especially those whom have yet to post in quite some time.
-rockette.
How is everyone else doing? Well, I hope.
A couple new terms were introduced into Requiem: Syph and Paragons. We'll get to these soon enough ~
I see some activity has waned, no matter, New Year and all that. I'm recovering, still, from my illness and so I'm a little wapish and worn out from the entire process.
A little heads up or an update is mighty appreciated though!
On this note, I'd love some feedback: is there anything I can do to improve the overall writing experience for Requiem, or something particular any one of you would like to see in the story? Any sort of assistance I can provide to boost activity or inspiration?
Hope to hear back from everyone soon, especially those whom have yet to post in quite some time.
-rockette.
In
Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I completely started from scratch and wrote a much shorter introduction rather than one that was needlessly filled with fluff. Sorry for the long wait, I've been sick with a fever that was brought upon by severe strep. I informed our GM, but that was to the extent to that. Anyways, hope this is sufficient for now, as I'm sure more posts will come later to dwell deeper into Maharet, combined with various collabs and plot lines.
Until then, I'm off to get some more much needed rest, and then I'll finish the rest of the banners once I awake.
Until then, I'm off to get some more much needed rest, and then I'll finish the rest of the banners once I awake.
In
Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
She Walks Through Beauty, And Bathes In Blood. . .
When you lived for numerous centuries and experienced many eras, one realized that cities don’t often change. The uniform desolation and method of depravity seemed to fester and ooze through the teeming spires gilded above and eclipsing a yawning sky. Individual shadows only seemed to pool darker and thicker through the masses of smog and debauchery laden within them. Objectives remained just the same, the only difference was the face carrying out the execution and juncture of the intentions embellished on the need and desire for power. Many of which often suffered from betrayal, narcotics, or simply sold themselves to the favour of thick life that came in ruby sins. The latter was the most favourable, lost souls yearning for purpose and prosperity under the unified lust of their superior species, proffering not only their pale throats pulsating with a maddened desire, but their souls also in penance. Slick teeth against sweat deluged skin perfumed with the musk of tangible despair — it made her deadened heart clench in a vice of stone-addled hunger.
Maharet breathed in the euphoric surrendering of her prey, cupping a frigid hand against the sallow cheek of her chosen, bribing them with shimmering pools of steelish-blue that shined a near crystalline persuasion. It was their first time, so she promised to be gentle, soothing any nerves by the simple caress of her nimble fingers over veins and skin, creating a shared chill that made both quiver in unison. Baited on the prospect of feeding and lust, the lady in red sunk fangs in deep, buried into the breadth of burning skin and felt the tremors of a groan take over the individual in her comforting grasp. Palms spread over locks, shoulders, sweeping down the naked curvature of her spine before gripping tight into the velvet chaise the very colour of their essence. A small hiss slipped between skin and teeth as she sunk in further, dwelling deep into the sequence of hunger and her own gluttony that fixated her daily. What felt like hours only crested into minutes, ending much too soon for the parties gathered as Maharet laid her partner down and heat plumed between them both from the sinful fester of her body stained ruby and gleaming in taint. She grinned, fangs bridled through out her bow-shaped lips and seeming much more barbaric compared to the common arsenal bequeathed to a rudimentary Nyctari. She was much more equipped, ancient, and adapted to sheer through her prey with a plethora of sharpened teeth and primary canines being the pinnacle of her denture cutlery.
“Sleep now, and dream of me.” She cooed, swathing herself up in pale silk and sweeping the mane of red hair over her pale shoulder. Through her various networks panned through out Santa Somabra, she had gained the knowledge of those whom desired and yearned for a more refined and successful vampire lord, a mistress to cart their dreams and desires through her bite and prowess. Maharet was adamant in seeing to these wishes, personally inviting them into her fold that was beginning to expand beyond the Rouge. Already she had gained significant influence that pursued beyond her original borders, encroaching the concrete groups that had long since found purchase in the red light districts and beyond. However, when rumour of her return circulated through the masses of her — for lack of better term — allies and enemies, various members sworn to the Nyctari either pledged themselves to her rise or simply swept off to the sidelines, finding the shadows of secrecy a better comfort than her potential. Not that she could blame them, her name carried currency and many knew the tale of Maman who had sired her entry into the tragic longevity of her kind. The latter’s death was much less known, but many knew that something had been the catalyst of Maharet’s need of retribution to those in Italy whom had betrayed her, slaughtering them in the same way they had slaughtered her kith and kin. Loneliness made the woeful turn mad and crazed and the first, fine webbings of blood lust began to sew carefully across her deduction and purpose, making her despair.
The vampire vacated one of her many parlours designed for feeding purposes and left the door ajar with curious glances peeking inside before scurrying off after their mistress. Thralls of numerous sizes and fashions dotted the interior of her abode, some heavily donned in velvets, others cinched in lace and some forwent clothing entirely and dressed in glitter and silver chain slunk over hips and their intimate modesty. Each bore a peculiar aura about them, as if not entirely here nor there and basking in her presence as she passed with fleeting touches and lingering eyes. Those of sycophantic qualms eagerly wed to her side, preparing to hang on her every gesture and word, these received dismissive glances and barely their acknowledgment, making them nearly mad and bent on pleasing her. These she preserved for the more ruthless tasks, their manic devotion serving as a fine persuasion to see her desires come to fruition when a more bestial method was needed. Her grin still plastered into place, she directed her glamourous simper into their direction and listened gleefully on their awe-riddled gasps and grappling fingers to receive more of their mistress. But, Maharet digressed on pleasing the lot under her spell and completely disbanded them from her side with an immaculate gesture of dangerously sharpened keratin. Small groans of protest sounded, but none objected openly as she descended down into her own foyer from her spiraling stairwells, the entire building housing living quarters above and connecting her directly to the Rouge housed beneath. Fine tremors laced through the floors, music of a deep, pounding bass gyrating through the building that almost made her purr, for the Rouge never slept.
Cool eyes pinned directly on the shrill urgency of the foyer telephone summoning her call, the ornate design of the ancient model was polished creme and gold, reflecting her veener as she finally palmed the device and brought it up to her ear. The voice that speared through the line was newly familiar, slightly grated and harsh and bore with it a wealth of intimidation and snark. Her grin blossomed, befitting that of a Chesire as the conformation of her newest order was delivered without fail.
“Your reputation seems well grounded then, monsieur.” Maharet purred through the device, letting her voice drop in an octave of a murmur as her fellow vampires began filtering into the foyer, awakening from various leagues of slumber. One of her newly purchased establishments had been targeted by a mass of — she sniffed — Rats that saw fit to test her newly found ownership. The moniker was befitting, at best, a cesspool of wasted youth whom gorged themselves on narcotics and filth, slinking across the undergrowth of trash much like the rodent they garnered such an epitaph from. Mongrels....
“I trust though that all of the rodents were put down, I don’t want any survivors remaining, such violence will not be tolerated in one of my establishments.” She carried on, her usual voice of lazy infliction hardening just so, not quite enough to be perceived as a threat, but just enough to be gleaned with the warning of a vampiress not to be curtailed of her payment towards services.
She had heard of these Lost Boys through various tales, some that seemed fantastical at best, but bore some evidence in her previous dealings with the city. One of them seemed, vaguely, familiar but seemed uninformed if her existence aside from her original suggestion that they work for her. She had plans for them, plans that she knew required a swift and delicate execution on the surface, but needed their sort of efficient brutality to see her deeds completed without a hitch and didn't directly connect to her Nyctarium. Another purr rumbled into her throat, one sated and pleased from her earlier feeding and the relay of a job well done.
“No matter, I trust that you’ve completed the job. I’ll send a contingent of my thralls to clean the place up for business to resume as usual. Proceed to the Rouge at your earliest convenience to receive payment and your next objective.” Her voice carried with it a candied bite, accompanied by the gleam of barbaric fangs still gleaming in scarlet. “Au revoir, monsieur.”
Maharet settled the device back to the cradle of the receiver, letting her slender fingers rest on the telephone as she glanced skyward along the stairwells of her home, eyes lingering on the fine painting that detailed the harsh and beautiful likeness of her late mother that was hoisted high above the balcony of the second floor. Sadness gleamed in the eyes of the vampire, suddenly submerged and eclipsed by rage as she spun on her heel, the fiery mane of her hair billowing around her thin shoulders and burning bright against the pale silk draped over her elegant form. Steel-blue bore into the vampires under her service and influence, some flinched whilst others bent to their knees, preparing for her command and desire. Maharet beamed wide at their attention and devotion, she could not ask for better vassals.
“It seems I have need of an old friend my lovelies, would one of you be so kind as to send a missive to Kurtz of Barrow & White for your lady? Tell him it’s rather.. Urgent and the pay will, of course, be much of his pleasure.”
With her order sent and a myriad of her vampires immediately seeing to her deed, Maharet released the makeshift slip of pale silk, letting it pool around her frigid ankles before she slid off down a well embellished hall, preparing to receive her anticipated company and to the receive the wanton and dejected souls that always found way to her beloved Rouge.
Maharet breathed in the euphoric surrendering of her prey, cupping a frigid hand against the sallow cheek of her chosen, bribing them with shimmering pools of steelish-blue that shined a near crystalline persuasion. It was their first time, so she promised to be gentle, soothing any nerves by the simple caress of her nimble fingers over veins and skin, creating a shared chill that made both quiver in unison. Baited on the prospect of feeding and lust, the lady in red sunk fangs in deep, buried into the breadth of burning skin and felt the tremors of a groan take over the individual in her comforting grasp. Palms spread over locks, shoulders, sweeping down the naked curvature of her spine before gripping tight into the velvet chaise the very colour of their essence. A small hiss slipped between skin and teeth as she sunk in further, dwelling deep into the sequence of hunger and her own gluttony that fixated her daily. What felt like hours only crested into minutes, ending much too soon for the parties gathered as Maharet laid her partner down and heat plumed between them both from the sinful fester of her body stained ruby and gleaming in taint. She grinned, fangs bridled through out her bow-shaped lips and seeming much more barbaric compared to the common arsenal bequeathed to a rudimentary Nyctari. She was much more equipped, ancient, and adapted to sheer through her prey with a plethora of sharpened teeth and primary canines being the pinnacle of her denture cutlery.
“Sleep now, and dream of me.” She cooed, swathing herself up in pale silk and sweeping the mane of red hair over her pale shoulder. Through her various networks panned through out Santa Somabra, she had gained the knowledge of those whom desired and yearned for a more refined and successful vampire lord, a mistress to cart their dreams and desires through her bite and prowess. Maharet was adamant in seeing to these wishes, personally inviting them into her fold that was beginning to expand beyond the Rouge. Already she had gained significant influence that pursued beyond her original borders, encroaching the concrete groups that had long since found purchase in the red light districts and beyond. However, when rumour of her return circulated through the masses of her — for lack of better term — allies and enemies, various members sworn to the Nyctari either pledged themselves to her rise or simply swept off to the sidelines, finding the shadows of secrecy a better comfort than her potential. Not that she could blame them, her name carried currency and many knew the tale of Maman who had sired her entry into the tragic longevity of her kind. The latter’s death was much less known, but many knew that something had been the catalyst of Maharet’s need of retribution to those in Italy whom had betrayed her, slaughtering them in the same way they had slaughtered her kith and kin. Loneliness made the woeful turn mad and crazed and the first, fine webbings of blood lust began to sew carefully across her deduction and purpose, making her despair.
The vampire vacated one of her many parlours designed for feeding purposes and left the door ajar with curious glances peeking inside before scurrying off after their mistress. Thralls of numerous sizes and fashions dotted the interior of her abode, some heavily donned in velvets, others cinched in lace and some forwent clothing entirely and dressed in glitter and silver chain slunk over hips and their intimate modesty. Each bore a peculiar aura about them, as if not entirely here nor there and basking in her presence as she passed with fleeting touches and lingering eyes. Those of sycophantic qualms eagerly wed to her side, preparing to hang on her every gesture and word, these received dismissive glances and barely their acknowledgment, making them nearly mad and bent on pleasing her. These she preserved for the more ruthless tasks, their manic devotion serving as a fine persuasion to see her desires come to fruition when a more bestial method was needed. Her grin still plastered into place, she directed her glamourous simper into their direction and listened gleefully on their awe-riddled gasps and grappling fingers to receive more of their mistress. But, Maharet digressed on pleasing the lot under her spell and completely disbanded them from her side with an immaculate gesture of dangerously sharpened keratin. Small groans of protest sounded, but none objected openly as she descended down into her own foyer from her spiraling stairwells, the entire building housing living quarters above and connecting her directly to the Rouge housed beneath. Fine tremors laced through the floors, music of a deep, pounding bass gyrating through the building that almost made her purr, for the Rouge never slept.
Cool eyes pinned directly on the shrill urgency of the foyer telephone summoning her call, the ornate design of the ancient model was polished creme and gold, reflecting her veener as she finally palmed the device and brought it up to her ear. The voice that speared through the line was newly familiar, slightly grated and harsh and bore with it a wealth of intimidation and snark. Her grin blossomed, befitting that of a Chesire as the conformation of her newest order was delivered without fail.
“Your reputation seems well grounded then, monsieur.” Maharet purred through the device, letting her voice drop in an octave of a murmur as her fellow vampires began filtering into the foyer, awakening from various leagues of slumber. One of her newly purchased establishments had been targeted by a mass of — she sniffed — Rats that saw fit to test her newly found ownership. The moniker was befitting, at best, a cesspool of wasted youth whom gorged themselves on narcotics and filth, slinking across the undergrowth of trash much like the rodent they garnered such an epitaph from. Mongrels....
“I trust though that all of the rodents were put down, I don’t want any survivors remaining, such violence will not be tolerated in one of my establishments.” She carried on, her usual voice of lazy infliction hardening just so, not quite enough to be perceived as a threat, but just enough to be gleaned with the warning of a vampiress not to be curtailed of her payment towards services.
She had heard of these Lost Boys through various tales, some that seemed fantastical at best, but bore some evidence in her previous dealings with the city. One of them seemed, vaguely, familiar but seemed uninformed if her existence aside from her original suggestion that they work for her. She had plans for them, plans that she knew required a swift and delicate execution on the surface, but needed their sort of efficient brutality to see her deeds completed without a hitch and didn't directly connect to her Nyctarium. Another purr rumbled into her throat, one sated and pleased from her earlier feeding and the relay of a job well done.
“No matter, I trust that you’ve completed the job. I’ll send a contingent of my thralls to clean the place up for business to resume as usual. Proceed to the Rouge at your earliest convenience to receive payment and your next objective.” Her voice carried with it a candied bite, accompanied by the gleam of barbaric fangs still gleaming in scarlet. “Au revoir, monsieur.”
Maharet settled the device back to the cradle of the receiver, letting her slender fingers rest on the telephone as she glanced skyward along the stairwells of her home, eyes lingering on the fine painting that detailed the harsh and beautiful likeness of her late mother that was hoisted high above the balcony of the second floor. Sadness gleamed in the eyes of the vampire, suddenly submerged and eclipsed by rage as she spun on her heel, the fiery mane of her hair billowing around her thin shoulders and burning bright against the pale silk draped over her elegant form. Steel-blue bore into the vampires under her service and influence, some flinched whilst others bent to their knees, preparing for her command and desire. Maharet beamed wide at their attention and devotion, she could not ask for better vassals.
“It seems I have need of an old friend my lovelies, would one of you be so kind as to send a missive to Kurtz of Barrow & White for your lady? Tell him it’s rather.. Urgent and the pay will, of course, be much of his pleasure.”
With her order sent and a myriad of her vampires immediately seeing to her deed, Maharet released the makeshift slip of pale silk, letting it pool around her frigid ankles before she slid off down a well embellished hall, preparing to receive her anticipated company and to the receive the wanton and dejected souls that always found way to her beloved Rouge.
SOLDIER Base; Residential Quarters.
By the time she had reached the vacant, steelish exterior of her domicile, Evangeline had successfully peeled and flaked away her electric polish of obnoxious pink and was gradually working to flay away the cuticles lining each plate of keratin. It was only by the abrupt realization as pain blossomed across her index finger, accompanied by the copper tang of scarlet, that she managed to pay notice to her actions. Mismatched eyes stared vacantly at the flesh sliced with the rouge of her life now offset by the tremor in her gesture when she realized then that she didn’t actually feel it —but only that she thought she did. Receptors were burned, culled, shut off like the switches of machinery and computers she had been trained to dismantle and decode. Only particular conditioning had instilled the habit to express displeasure and discomfort so as not to suspect and unnerve her comrades. The practice had been personally proffered by the pale, hellacious Commander whom expressed a similar condition, only that her receptors burned with an ecstasy and lustful kinship that labeled her as masochistic and peculiar. Evangeline had expressed crude and lewd jests, courtesy of her time spent with Hally, but the Saboteur instructor had only a ghost of a smile that was pained and yet fond and had set her into emotional drills that would benefit her in the method of unison and teamwork.
But now she realized that in personal quarters, it was a bit more difficult to discern and perform, and was briefly alarmed if James or her fellow dismantee could garner that bit of information from sharing glances with her. A firm philosophy had been instilled in Evangeline that the eyes often told anyone what they needed to know, another advantage that she possessed when bequeathed with a bi-colour stare: it left inquires to which was the truth in what someone could witness in her gaze. Hally had remarked that they were like night and day, a simplistic, common comparison, but he was only one who would really.. Know.
She shook her wealth of golden tresses, dislodging her thought process growing ever darker and quickly crossed the threshold, letting the door of her room shut with a clank that was almost too loud to her ears. Of course, she wasn’t the only one whom had to undertake the peculiar empathy courses, it was unmistakable that shock of white hair cropped so closely to his scalp that she had once inquired if it was even real, or just merely misplaced dust. She had never received an answer, not that one could be expected when he too had been attending drills and exercises meant to flex receivers of socialism. He had been present at the debriefing as well, but she pondered if anyone else noticed his slight displacement betwixt all the intensity and lashings between Commanders and President.
Evangeline doubts such a thing, but such is the grand scheme of events, and everyone is a fantastic candidate as well, gleaned from her calculating beneath the bubbly exterior and quietly engaging in games with Hally. He provided clarity when there was none to be had, and whilst she had doodled series of looping o’s and harsh x’s, she had slid her gaze individually over the assembly and left it at that until Rayne’s slicing timbre had fractured her to the bone. Most pinned him as the arrogant politician whom was endowed in a fixating vendetta against the rebellion, but to Evangeline it procured a voice and a familiar mannerism that was the pinnacle of her childhood. Such thoughts left her discombobulated and she twists sallow fingers through gold and lightly pulled, just enough to snag a few tresses free and sighed in a minute of relief.
“Okay, time to pack!”
Eagerness wove into her ritual, bouncing around, singing a random little number to the peak of her lung capacity as she fished, pillaged and rummaged through her personal belongings. Golden trinkets were shaken from wrists and ankles, exchanged for the golden accessory that fitted over her ear like the rays of a sun burst but sharpened and refined like gilded beams of yellow daggers. Her traditional garb was shed gradually with her mental deduction of the proper gear and essentials she might require whilst on this mission. It was their first, official assignment and already tension had laced tight around the selected troupe and Evangeline knew that even her bequeathed mission wouldn’t go finished without some kind of flaw; as there was always one.
Whilst elbow deep in the recesses of her closet, a small chirp signaled for her attention, flying away the dame from her browsing to fumble for the device always woven into a secret depress in her uniform. With a small grimace at the fitting suit that was designed for Saboteurs, she slid fingers into the nook of mesh and fortified nylon that was interlaced with metallic fibers to further backbone the assemblage. The pad was small, plain in the aesthetic prose, but withheld a wealth of capabilities that she knew in every possible way. A series of codes and numbers blossomed to life in pixelated form, shimmering hues of azure and white bleeding together to form into ebony words that relayed a message of dismissive simplicity that hardly required her answer. Evangeline though felt a fine tremor curl down the marrow of her spine, forging slivers of obsidian ice that balled into a sphere of a premonition.
She really hated secrets.
Though a Saboteur was fostered on secrets and codes and various uniforms of dismantling affairs and breaking down the components of enemies — and sometimes: allies, Evangeline only found the procedure of battle to be enjoyable and favourable. Most of the details and nuances of the particular infiltrator bled out into seamless dribble unless the techniques came to fruition, and whilst her Commander had paid special practice to ensure her full capabilities by emotional tempering and patience drills - she still found struggles within bedlam of secrets. But, this was her designated path and occupation and sometimes lies fortified over the lies of the truth benefited an individual in the finality of the juncture, and it was in that she found some sort of peace, that and in the bereavement of her enemies.
Her vendetta was not quite on par with Rayne’s blind want of persecution and subjugation, but something fixated Evangeline in a will to force surrender upon the opposition and she had always been incapable of cajoling that viperous intent. Simulations against SeeR Syph machines and their own unified force of Paragon fighters had garnered a brutality in her attacks and deployment of such and the explosive nature in which Evangeline fought. Ruthlessness did not even begin to describe her method and as such, they attempted to curtail her anger. And that was often what they attempted daily to the spirit of Evangeline Dashelle, to temper and siphon off her emotions, her erratic behaviors and her interchanging depths of empathy. Numbness corded tight in her fingers as she finished her assembly of gear and began pouring into her armour, latching and finishing each of the zippers and buckling components into proper function. The numbness didn’t dispel until she had sheathed her fingers in the uniform gloves, flexing each digit until the fortified mesh and thin, yet strong, plating coated over her knuckles passed into unnoticeable.
Umbra came next, already delivered from its’ ritual maintenance and her receipt dropped off with the delivery to be filed later. Within its shortest form, it slid easily into the components along her spine that acted as a harness that was pressure activated, otherwise it held Umbra in a vice so much that the weight of her weapon went almost unheeded. Satisfied with her battle sprucing, Evangeline began coiling her hair into a plait and then coiling that into a knot that almost immediately came loose, golden threads fringing her brow and ears. She forwent the traditional helm of the Saboteur uniform, optioning instead for the cloak—hood that the opposite gender was bequeathed. Then, attaching her communication advice to her ear that was shelled with her golden accessory that also was designed with a holographic visor that had direct link to the Libra Scan database, and performed a series of basic functions that came with all SOLDIERS in their assigned fatigues and armour.
Not much time remained she debated and couldn’t assuage away the ill premonition that was still festering at her spine in a coil of tines. With a soft glance she immediately dug into her duffel and palmed a series of pills past her lips, the number staggering, and each drug designed to filter and temper herself from the unfurling and fraying nerves of her emotions already beginning to spark alive in series of erratic pulses. Evangeline inhaled once her pills were ingested, feeling the beginning of the narcotics to pull apart and dissolve and take effect.
“All right, here we go!” She chirped and bounded from her room, allowing the lock to depress into place and a skip to take over her steps as she bounded down the hall and towards the deployment gate, the darkness already beginning to ebb.
But now she realized that in personal quarters, it was a bit more difficult to discern and perform, and was briefly alarmed if James or her fellow dismantee could garner that bit of information from sharing glances with her. A firm philosophy had been instilled in Evangeline that the eyes often told anyone what they needed to know, another advantage that she possessed when bequeathed with a bi-colour stare: it left inquires to which was the truth in what someone could witness in her gaze. Hally had remarked that they were like night and day, a simplistic, common comparison, but he was only one who would really.. Know.
She shook her wealth of golden tresses, dislodging her thought process growing ever darker and quickly crossed the threshold, letting the door of her room shut with a clank that was almost too loud to her ears. Of course, she wasn’t the only one whom had to undertake the peculiar empathy courses, it was unmistakable that shock of white hair cropped so closely to his scalp that she had once inquired if it was even real, or just merely misplaced dust. She had never received an answer, not that one could be expected when he too had been attending drills and exercises meant to flex receivers of socialism. He had been present at the debriefing as well, but she pondered if anyone else noticed his slight displacement betwixt all the intensity and lashings between Commanders and President.
Evangeline doubts such a thing, but such is the grand scheme of events, and everyone is a fantastic candidate as well, gleaned from her calculating beneath the bubbly exterior and quietly engaging in games with Hally. He provided clarity when there was none to be had, and whilst she had doodled series of looping o’s and harsh x’s, she had slid her gaze individually over the assembly and left it at that until Rayne’s slicing timbre had fractured her to the bone. Most pinned him as the arrogant politician whom was endowed in a fixating vendetta against the rebellion, but to Evangeline it procured a voice and a familiar mannerism that was the pinnacle of her childhood. Such thoughts left her discombobulated and she twists sallow fingers through gold and lightly pulled, just enough to snag a few tresses free and sighed in a minute of relief.
“Okay, time to pack!”
Eagerness wove into her ritual, bouncing around, singing a random little number to the peak of her lung capacity as she fished, pillaged and rummaged through her personal belongings. Golden trinkets were shaken from wrists and ankles, exchanged for the golden accessory that fitted over her ear like the rays of a sun burst but sharpened and refined like gilded beams of yellow daggers. Her traditional garb was shed gradually with her mental deduction of the proper gear and essentials she might require whilst on this mission. It was their first, official assignment and already tension had laced tight around the selected troupe and Evangeline knew that even her bequeathed mission wouldn’t go finished without some kind of flaw; as there was always one.
Whilst elbow deep in the recesses of her closet, a small chirp signaled for her attention, flying away the dame from her browsing to fumble for the device always woven into a secret depress in her uniform. With a small grimace at the fitting suit that was designed for Saboteurs, she slid fingers into the nook of mesh and fortified nylon that was interlaced with metallic fibers to further backbone the assemblage. The pad was small, plain in the aesthetic prose, but withheld a wealth of capabilities that she knew in every possible way. A series of codes and numbers blossomed to life in pixelated form, shimmering hues of azure and white bleeding together to form into ebony words that relayed a message of dismissive simplicity that hardly required her answer. Evangeline though felt a fine tremor curl down the marrow of her spine, forging slivers of obsidian ice that balled into a sphere of a premonition.
She really hated secrets.
Though a Saboteur was fostered on secrets and codes and various uniforms of dismantling affairs and breaking down the components of enemies — and sometimes: allies, Evangeline only found the procedure of battle to be enjoyable and favourable. Most of the details and nuances of the particular infiltrator bled out into seamless dribble unless the techniques came to fruition, and whilst her Commander had paid special practice to ensure her full capabilities by emotional tempering and patience drills - she still found struggles within bedlam of secrets. But, this was her designated path and occupation and sometimes lies fortified over the lies of the truth benefited an individual in the finality of the juncture, and it was in that she found some sort of peace, that and in the bereavement of her enemies.
Her vendetta was not quite on par with Rayne’s blind want of persecution and subjugation, but something fixated Evangeline in a will to force surrender upon the opposition and she had always been incapable of cajoling that viperous intent. Simulations against SeeR Syph machines and their own unified force of Paragon fighters had garnered a brutality in her attacks and deployment of such and the explosive nature in which Evangeline fought. Ruthlessness did not even begin to describe her method and as such, they attempted to curtail her anger. And that was often what they attempted daily to the spirit of Evangeline Dashelle, to temper and siphon off her emotions, her erratic behaviors and her interchanging depths of empathy. Numbness corded tight in her fingers as she finished her assembly of gear and began pouring into her armour, latching and finishing each of the zippers and buckling components into proper function. The numbness didn’t dispel until she had sheathed her fingers in the uniform gloves, flexing each digit until the fortified mesh and thin, yet strong, plating coated over her knuckles passed into unnoticeable.
Umbra came next, already delivered from its’ ritual maintenance and her receipt dropped off with the delivery to be filed later. Within its shortest form, it slid easily into the components along her spine that acted as a harness that was pressure activated, otherwise it held Umbra in a vice so much that the weight of her weapon went almost unheeded. Satisfied with her battle sprucing, Evangeline began coiling her hair into a plait and then coiling that into a knot that almost immediately came loose, golden threads fringing her brow and ears. She forwent the traditional helm of the Saboteur uniform, optioning instead for the cloak—hood that the opposite gender was bequeathed. Then, attaching her communication advice to her ear that was shelled with her golden accessory that also was designed with a holographic visor that had direct link to the Libra Scan database, and performed a series of basic functions that came with all SOLDIERS in their assigned fatigues and armour.
Not much time remained she debated and couldn’t assuage away the ill premonition that was still festering at her spine in a coil of tines. With a soft glance she immediately dug into her duffel and palmed a series of pills past her lips, the number staggering, and each drug designed to filter and temper herself from the unfurling and fraying nerves of her emotions already beginning to spark alive in series of erratic pulses. Evangeline inhaled once her pills were ingested, feeling the beginning of the narcotics to pull apart and dissolve and take effect.
“All right, here we go!” She chirped and bounded from her room, allowing the lock to depress into place and a skip to take over her steps as she bounded down the hall and towards the deployment gate, the darkness already beginning to ebb.
SOLDIER Base; Council Halls.
Outside the Council Room, the Commanders had parted ways, each with a designation in mind and relayed through glances and series of gestures that were quickly executed and hardly intercepted by the passing parties. Magdalena retreated back to her office, preparing a return transmission and a potential virus laced within its works that she would supply to her SOLDIERS, but the obvious performance of someone clearing a throat behind her gave her pause, allowing the individual in question to step up at her flank.
“Olivia, something the matter?” She inquired, unexpectedly feeling the fine tremors of anxiety break threshold on her body, brought on by the brunette’s leveling stare.
“What do you think of the SOLDIERS we’re sending out?” The brunette inquired, assuming their departure away from the Council Room as the individuals in question began filtering out one by one. Icy pools landed on the bounce of blonde cheer and exuberance that quickly was called aside by the SOLDIER with ashen skin and red eyes. Watching them make way down the hall, arms laced, made her answering voice carry off.
“They each have promising potential, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit worried...”
Olivia followed her shattering gaze, finding the subjects in her questioning observation.
“That’s the girl from Fort Lullin?”
“Yes.”
“And the boy..”
“His records are a little.. Hazy. They all have cryptic files in fact, detailing their places of origin, but not quite laying into the relatives and the location of their families. I’ve scoured through and it only details into how SOLDIER found them, as if all other information and critical basement is null and void when it comes to that SOLDIER managed to get them.” Magdalena muttered, keeping her articulation pitched and low, privy to only Olivia’s senses.
“So any facts that we actually have could be nothing more than falsified records?”
“Exactly, their names might not even be there own names and just supplied designations to placate and direct us to look else where in concerns to those files and their pasts.” Magdalena hedged, running slender gestures over the nape of her neck, unable to still the quake of nerves bundling there and numbing across frayed nerves and trembling muscles.
“It makes me wonder if our own files are just as bare or if the names we know are actually our own.”
Olivia seemed disturbed by this revelation, cinching phalanges around the breadth of her throat to mute the gasp that threatened to carve way from her heaving breast.
“They’re hiding something.” She muttered, soft and teeming with a fearful dawn of the unknown and the facility of, potentially, their own existence.
“And I’ll bet the SeeR knows exactly what.”
“Olivia, something the matter?” She inquired, unexpectedly feeling the fine tremors of anxiety break threshold on her body, brought on by the brunette’s leveling stare.
“What do you think of the SOLDIERS we’re sending out?” The brunette inquired, assuming their departure away from the Council Room as the individuals in question began filtering out one by one. Icy pools landed on the bounce of blonde cheer and exuberance that quickly was called aside by the SOLDIER with ashen skin and red eyes. Watching them make way down the hall, arms laced, made her answering voice carry off.
“They each have promising potential, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit worried...”
Olivia followed her shattering gaze, finding the subjects in her questioning observation.
“That’s the girl from Fort Lullin?”
“Yes.”
“And the boy..”
“His records are a little.. Hazy. They all have cryptic files in fact, detailing their places of origin, but not quite laying into the relatives and the location of their families. I’ve scoured through and it only details into how SOLDIER found them, as if all other information and critical basement is null and void when it comes to that SOLDIER managed to get them.” Magdalena muttered, keeping her articulation pitched and low, privy to only Olivia’s senses.
“So any facts that we actually have could be nothing more than falsified records?”
“Exactly, their names might not even be there own names and just supplied designations to placate and direct us to look else where in concerns to those files and their pasts.” Magdalena hedged, running slender gestures over the nape of her neck, unable to still the quake of nerves bundling there and numbing across frayed nerves and trembling muscles.
“It makes me wonder if our own files are just as bare or if the names we know are actually our own.”
Olivia seemed disturbed by this revelation, cinching phalanges around the breadth of her throat to mute the gasp that threatened to carve way from her heaving breast.
“They’re hiding something.” She muttered, soft and teeming with a fearful dawn of the unknown and the facility of, potentially, their own existence.
“And I’ll bet the SeeR knows exactly what.”
SOLDIER Base; Deployment Gate.
There wasn’t much distance to the deployment dock and already others had gathered, she being one of the remaining few having yet to arrive. Evangeline took stock of her fellow Saboteur already there, deciding not to join him so as to avoid any suspicion on their mission and part in it together. Others appeared to keep to themselves and her eyes honed in on the face plate of a unique set of armour, finding it curious, but unable to commit to her desire of inquires when Hally’s voice reached her. She smiled and bounded up to him like an energetic pup.
”Who is Honeybun now?” Evangeline quipped, slinging arms around Hally’s torso and peeking around his elbow to level a grin at the gargantuan man that went under the name of Kain. An intimidating man in his own right and stature, Evangeline knew not much about him, aside from name and profile identification. They were leagues apart in differences of battle tactics and weaponry, the massive sword enough testimony to that fact. Her face scrunched up in a teasing grin, finding the newly given nickname hilarious and yet.. Fitting.
“Honeybun, I kind of like it. Of course that’s Hally’s personal name for you! Too bad, maybe he’ll let me borrow it from time to time.” She mused, almost whisking off into a tangent when the Commanders once more interrupted her.
It was only two of them this time, the one whom had scolded her earlier curiously absent along with the Dr. Faye. Evangeline slowly disbanded her arms from embracing Hally and faced them full on with the gathered force. It was only then she noticed the new addition to their ranks who had not been present during the Council, she almost spoke aloud, to inquire after his induction and intention when Commander Abendroth-Faye spoke up, silencing all and summoning her full attention.
“It appears we have a new face joining us,” she began and gestured to the man Evangeline knew nothing of. No identification number, no details she could even discern with his particular armour and stature. It unnerved her terribly and by shifting weight in her plated feet, she signaled her discomfort and worry by agilely penning the cipher into her data module, there was no time to send the missive just yet, however. Uncertain of the man’s intention, she once more turned attention to her Commander and rolled her weight back into a casual stance and crossed her arms at her breast, dispelling her jitters whilst her medication was still attempting to placate her.
“By Rayne’s orders he is to join you on this particular mission, just like any other SOLDIER, but his experience with previous missions caught the President’s attention, thus you’ll have some idea of what SeeR is like through SOLDIER Olsen’s.. Knowledge.” There was obvious discomfort laced tight into her voice, offset by the dull tones of chiming bells as she pinned John with her unwavering stare of near—crystalline blue brimming with a silent warning. Evangeline perked up at that look, so obviously displayed, and almost bounced into place as she leaned forward, also glancing at this man once more before glancing to Hally, to gain his own expression.
“Now each of you have been assigned a holographic visor that has been equipped also with a communication device to communicate with each other and to also keep in touch with the base. The further you branch out, the more difficult signals are to gain, however we have towers set up through Galbadia to ensure minimal interference. There are a series of channels for you to relay information on and your Saboteurs will give these to you once each of the channels have been gleaned and secured so to avoid SeeR hackers from listening in.” The pale Commander held up an exemplary piece of technology in which she described, pin-pointing the keys designated to pass through channels.
“Through the visor you have a direct link to the Libra Scan system that provides information on each of the beasts and creatures we are aware of. Unknown enemies can be scanned but limited information can be taken from them, however, as your battles carry on the system updates automatically, even on the unknown species.”
The visor in question was blue in her grasp, though each of the SOLDIERS possessed ones in varying hues of vermilion. Evangeline tapped the various keys on her piece and watched the minuscule screen light up over her occulus, varying lines and digital frequencies highlighting the Libra Scan system coming online with the expansive network that it was. When she glanced over everyone in the group, she was given a wealth of numbers and details, all basic information in regards to their capabilities in weaponry and classes and giggled from the sheer joy and amazement of it all. She had no idea the Libra Scan had been dragged out of Beta when she had first heard of its’ concept in her Commanders coding drills.
Loud whines and clanks of metal shifted then, signaling the yawning maw of the deployment gate cranking open. Fluorescent bulbs winked into existence, shining across metal and momentarily blinding Evangeline as the ground trembled, signaling the arrival of one of the bases massive terrain vehicles meant for transferring a plethora of SOLDIERS across vast and short distances. The Behemoth of metal was intimidating to say the least, massive wheels and ebony metal fused together into various spikes of definite defensive prowess and rotating guns poised on top flashed definite offense. Accompanying the gargantuan machine was the basic unit of deployment: ten grunt foot soldiers — common army infantry — and five lieutenants with two drivers who operated the vehicle. Each bore a common face plate, making them appear.. Less human to Evangeline’s eyes, impersonal and void. She gave them dismissive looks as the hatch to the Behemoth whined open on hydraulics, providing a ramp of access into the bulky interior.
“Make us proud, SOLDIERS.” The Commanders said in unison, signaling the start of the mission as Evangeline chirped and skipped upwards on the ramp, ascending into the belly of the beast with an obtuse grin blazoned across her visage.
”Who is Honeybun now?” Evangeline quipped, slinging arms around Hally’s torso and peeking around his elbow to level a grin at the gargantuan man that went under the name of Kain. An intimidating man in his own right and stature, Evangeline knew not much about him, aside from name and profile identification. They were leagues apart in differences of battle tactics and weaponry, the massive sword enough testimony to that fact. Her face scrunched up in a teasing grin, finding the newly given nickname hilarious and yet.. Fitting.
“Honeybun, I kind of like it. Of course that’s Hally’s personal name for you! Too bad, maybe he’ll let me borrow it from time to time.” She mused, almost whisking off into a tangent when the Commanders once more interrupted her.
It was only two of them this time, the one whom had scolded her earlier curiously absent along with the Dr. Faye. Evangeline slowly disbanded her arms from embracing Hally and faced them full on with the gathered force. It was only then she noticed the new addition to their ranks who had not been present during the Council, she almost spoke aloud, to inquire after his induction and intention when Commander Abendroth-Faye spoke up, silencing all and summoning her full attention.
“It appears we have a new face joining us,” she began and gestured to the man Evangeline knew nothing of. No identification number, no details she could even discern with his particular armour and stature. It unnerved her terribly and by shifting weight in her plated feet, she signaled her discomfort and worry by agilely penning the cipher into her data module, there was no time to send the missive just yet, however. Uncertain of the man’s intention, she once more turned attention to her Commander and rolled her weight back into a casual stance and crossed her arms at her breast, dispelling her jitters whilst her medication was still attempting to placate her.
“By Rayne’s orders he is to join you on this particular mission, just like any other SOLDIER, but his experience with previous missions caught the President’s attention, thus you’ll have some idea of what SeeR is like through SOLDIER Olsen’s.. Knowledge.” There was obvious discomfort laced tight into her voice, offset by the dull tones of chiming bells as she pinned John with her unwavering stare of near—crystalline blue brimming with a silent warning. Evangeline perked up at that look, so obviously displayed, and almost bounced into place as she leaned forward, also glancing at this man once more before glancing to Hally, to gain his own expression.
“Now each of you have been assigned a holographic visor that has been equipped also with a communication device to communicate with each other and to also keep in touch with the base. The further you branch out, the more difficult signals are to gain, however we have towers set up through Galbadia to ensure minimal interference. There are a series of channels for you to relay information on and your Saboteurs will give these to you once each of the channels have been gleaned and secured so to avoid SeeR hackers from listening in.” The pale Commander held up an exemplary piece of technology in which she described, pin-pointing the keys designated to pass through channels.
“Through the visor you have a direct link to the Libra Scan system that provides information on each of the beasts and creatures we are aware of. Unknown enemies can be scanned but limited information can be taken from them, however, as your battles carry on the system updates automatically, even on the unknown species.”
The visor in question was blue in her grasp, though each of the SOLDIERS possessed ones in varying hues of vermilion. Evangeline tapped the various keys on her piece and watched the minuscule screen light up over her occulus, varying lines and digital frequencies highlighting the Libra Scan system coming online with the expansive network that it was. When she glanced over everyone in the group, she was given a wealth of numbers and details, all basic information in regards to their capabilities in weaponry and classes and giggled from the sheer joy and amazement of it all. She had no idea the Libra Scan had been dragged out of Beta when she had first heard of its’ concept in her Commanders coding drills.
Loud whines and clanks of metal shifted then, signaling the yawning maw of the deployment gate cranking open. Fluorescent bulbs winked into existence, shining across metal and momentarily blinding Evangeline as the ground trembled, signaling the arrival of one of the bases massive terrain vehicles meant for transferring a plethora of SOLDIERS across vast and short distances. The Behemoth of metal was intimidating to say the least, massive wheels and ebony metal fused together into various spikes of definite defensive prowess and rotating guns poised on top flashed definite offense. Accompanying the gargantuan machine was the basic unit of deployment: ten grunt foot soldiers — common army infantry — and five lieutenants with two drivers who operated the vehicle. Each bore a common face plate, making them appear.. Less human to Evangeline’s eyes, impersonal and void. She gave them dismissive looks as the hatch to the Behemoth whined open on hydraulics, providing a ramp of access into the bulky interior.
“Make us proud, SOLDIERS.” The Commanders said in unison, signaling the start of the mission as Evangeline chirped and skipped upwards on the ramp, ascending into the belly of the beast with an obtuse grin blazoned across her visage.
Aboard the Behemoth; near the border.
The beginning journey from Dalmasca was quiet, on first impressions. The humming and rumbling engine of the Behemoth was the only source of sound, aside from the various signals transferred through the numerous screens paneled inside the vehicle to scan the landscapes and the ensure their location as they traversed through the remaining state of Baldur. Each of the SOLDIERS were buckled into place by harnesses equipped with their seats, settled next to one another or set apart by their preference with their gear shoved above them in the designed cubicles of criss-crossing netting and metal — easy to access.
One particular blonde was busily typing into her pad, fluid movements shimmering blue as she busily embarked into her own network, making notes and key details, with her legs pulled up and laced together in her seat, she almost appeared at ease. Her cloak—hood was down, exposing most of her veener aside from the bit that was obscured by the falling tresses of gold escaping from the plaited design, but she paid little mind to it. As her thumb punched one final component, she turned off the module, retreating it back into the sleeve of her fitting uniform. Bi —coloured eyes passed over each individual before she let out a small hum, letting it whistle until she finally spoke up.
“Sooo. I don’t think we all know one another. I mean, I know all of you - your numbers you know - but I like to be given names.” Evangeline probed, baiting for some conversation as one of the drivers announced they were coming upon the border check-point that would put them into Luan in a matter of minutes.
“Introduction are in order I’d say! I’m Evangeline Dashelle, one of your lovely Saboteurs.”
One particular blonde was busily typing into her pad, fluid movements shimmering blue as she busily embarked into her own network, making notes and key details, with her legs pulled up and laced together in her seat, she almost appeared at ease. Her cloak—hood was down, exposing most of her veener aside from the bit that was obscured by the falling tresses of gold escaping from the plaited design, but she paid little mind to it. As her thumb punched one final component, she turned off the module, retreating it back into the sleeve of her fitting uniform. Bi —coloured eyes passed over each individual before she let out a small hum, letting it whistle until she finally spoke up.
“Sooo. I don’t think we all know one another. I mean, I know all of you - your numbers you know - but I like to be given names.” Evangeline probed, baiting for some conversation as one of the drivers announced they were coming upon the border check-point that would put them into Luan in a matter of minutes.
“Introduction are in order I’d say! I’m Evangeline Dashelle, one of your lovely Saboteurs.”
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