For many moments the two women stand still, staring at one another but otherwise motionless; all to fill the suspense is the crispy crackles of pops of burning leaves and branches. It seems only the creeping flames threaten, 'til a third air-splitting arc of lightning crackles with another flash of white. Where Hisame expects pain she is met with noise,loud and near, and when the flicker fades, she feels the weight of the leaning trunk pressing down with cracks of splintering wood. She involuntarily spans her arms astride in some laughable effort to keep the ancient resident from falling, and if she didn't move now, its advance would be dangerous; its weight: crushing...
...killing...
...slamming into the ground with a terrific THUD.
The earth rumbles and a blast of air strikes the fire sideways momentarily, kicking up clouds of dust and ash in its heavy rest. When it settles, all to be seen of Hisame are her limbs and hair beneath the trunk which had smashed her like an ant under a shoe. Yet she holds the katana in a deathgrip as the tongues of fire lick flesh and fabric alike to burn her to nothing where she lay, but only if left unfettered.
How quickly glee turns to gloom when a plaything refuses to entertain; it may be cause to smirk were Hisame not so indifferent.
"Burn, bitch..."
The spiteful command comes while she shoves herself off the trunk to a wobbling, slouching standing; then fingertips fire fresh fervor in hungry, crackling arcs. They do not seek contact with Atsukawa, but instead ignite the dry leaves paving the forest floor with an airy rasp. Their overwhelming odor flares her nostrils and she coughs, recoiling in disgust as she buries her face in the lavender-scented silk of her right sleeve. There she breathes in comfort, lowering the limb enough to gaze intently at the warming waist-high wall before her; it inches toward her hungrily, spreading from leaf to leaf like a lonely infection and basking her in gentle orange glow.
Eyeing the woman through the waving air above the fire, Hisame wonders if wonderful immolation is soon to arrive and reduce her to ashes forever...
Hisame enjoyed a rather pleasant upbringing with her brother and parents; her father a respected samurai and her mother a simple woman who practiced the arts of cooking, sewing, floral decoration and music. While close to her brother, most of his time was spent learning swordsmanship behest their father. Although she had a fascination with the sword, insomuch to privately mimic the motions she saw while her brother practiced, the interest was always fleeting. After being scolded by her father, she gave it up completely. Instead she practiced the skills gleaned from her mother.
She became renown in her village and the surrounding towns for her beautiful floral arrangements and skill with the koto and flute, even asked to join a traveling company as a musician; her heart remained at home, and she remained there as a respected and helpful member of the village. Her attention remained fixed to her family and their honor, as well as refinement of creative skills.
This changed when her brother died of illness; in his angered agony over loss of his only heir, Hisame's father turned to drinking as an outlet, shutting out his family from his thoughts and feelings. One night, amid heavy drinking, an altercation with a stranger resulted in a duel; the duel resulted in his death. Hisame's uncle was left to fill the void in her life, but their father's shame remained a stain upon their names in the behind-the-back talk of locals.
The next turn happened when she met a man while selling flowers. A kind, affectionate and gentle soul, the two become close; the next spring, he asked her to marry and she instantly accepted. But the newlyweds met ill fortune when their village is ransacked by marauders. Hisame's uncle and husband are killed before her eyes, along with most of the other men and all the woman that resisted.
As for Hisame and her mother, they are passed along the bandits for several days, raped as deemed fit. In time, she learns of her mother's murder, and with it, whatever hope to the nightmare's end perished as well.
At nightfall, she woos the guard off of one of the bandits, stealing his wakizashi and slitting his throat before making an escape. Hisame ventures to the surrounding woods; famished, exhausted and dehydrated, her strength gives out. Weeping, she laments to heaven, cursing her father for being a fool that could not protect his family. Desire to live gone, she placed the blade to her throat and resolved to slash it open.
It's then that a whisper enters her ears, seemingly from nowhere. It asks her questions of her feelings and desires; her only answers involved vengeance. So they offered power to take revenge at the cost of her life; having already chosen death, she acquiesces. Her gift is a sterling katana branded the Fateful Death. She's informed that she need but focus her soul into the sword and it will do the rest.
So she ventures back to the village, far from fearful while she does as suggested and creates a midnight nightmare of made real. The fools that throw throw themselves at her find her seemingly unaffected, even aroused by the gashes and blood their edges spill from her generous flesh. Them that chase candelight in search of sanctuary find it breathed out and the darkness of a blackened moon their ally, and those that run are stalked through the streets, corridors and bedrooms until everyone in the village, even the victims pf the raid, are massacred.
Her pain recompensed, she stands in the square of the village to behold what she had both wittingly and unwillingly wrought: an ocean of blood, brutalized bodies and child death. Hisame returns steel to her throat and slices it open; laying silent as she bled to death, she is left astonished at how long it took. Then the laughter of the whisperer enters her mind to remind her of her vow: her life was theirs and the death she sought would not come as simply as she desired. Instead, they told her of the many evil people who were doing the same thing as what happened to her family and loved ones, and that she was fully capable of destroying them.
Therefore she ventured in search of wicked people worthy of her steel by day; unbeknownst to her, by night her body wanders in control of her devilish counterpart, murdering whoever unfortunate enough to cross paths.
Eventually aware of the devil that puppets her at its whim, she now she seeks death most of all, that she may be free of her vexation and reunite with her family at last.
Abilities
Death's Chosen (Passive) - Hisame's body is blessed by a spirit of death. She has eternal youth and thus cannot age or die from passing years; injuries she suffers that do not utterly destroy her body will heal if given enough time and she is impervious to death via blood loss, however, she will still suffer mild effects of blood loss such as light-headedness and fatigue to the point of unconsciousness.
Bloodthirsting Blade (Passive) - Hisame's sword, the Fateful Death, thirsts for human blood and must drink periodically; failure to do so will result in crippling seizures and other agonies; if the sword cuts the flesh of another, the wound will become infected. This infection increases blood flow and causes platelet death, resulting in increased and more severe bleeding, as well as inability for the wound to close via scabbing.
The Promised Comforter - Hisame is able to protect herself from incoming damage via spirit energy; the energy manifests as a matrix of condensed particles which mimic the consistency of hard metal and can take any form she desires. How much damage is absorbed or mitigated is relative to the strength of the attack and how much time she is given to muster a defense; in the event of attacks being too powerful, the matrix will crack and eventually shatter, making the ability unusable for an extended period of time (10 of Hisame's posts following the shatter).
The Unholy Communion - Fateful Death's swallowed blood may be used to fashion sanguine miracles; their form is as concrete as Hisame's imagination at the time of creation. As time goes on, assuming a steady stream of blood is provided, the miracles may grow in size, strength and complexity.
The Resurrection of the Dead - Hisame is able to summon corpses from the earth and reanimate already dead bodies to do her will. They are treated as mindless minions which, while easily destroyed, tend to swarm in the thousands at once.
The Revelation - At whim of her death spirit, Hisame becomes possessed; In this state, she is capable of affecting the area around her, to the extend of warping the perception of reality in creations of complex visual and auditory hallucinations that may well appear real to those experiencing it; she can blow out candles, burst light bulbs, blacken the sun and moon, as well as exude gaseous darkness; she can modulate and project her voice to any pitch desired, from a deeply male tone to a banshee's screech; she is also capable of bending the light around her body to turn herself invisible to natural senses, creating ghostly forms, and can utilize telekinesis.
Her spiritual energy takes on a dangerous aspect which interacts with other living flesh destructively: breathing in her aura will cause swelling of the throat; eye contact results in blurred vision to the point of blindness; a touch of her hand brings muscle and tissue death to the area of contact, and direct exposure to her spirit energy results in a rotting of flesh. This quality extends to any sort of spirit-based attack she uses such as an energy slash as well, passively affects the Fateful Death's cuts, and is contained in her very breath when she exhales.
This is the expected form to be fighting from the start should the battle take place at night.
Like a shepherding dog they ring around the statuesque swordswoman, carefree; jovial and moving to whatever madness drove them. Hisame feels the tingle intensify, and when the woman erects their palmed arm, the hair on her flesh stands on end. It's the precursor to an electrifying assault that flourishes with a flash and booming crack of lightning as her vision goes white. Then she's airborne, sailing over the twelve feet preceding collision with thick wood; her spine slams into bark and slumps against it, her face fallen and covered by black tresses; her sword arm bare of cloth and terribly burned. Buzzing fills the ears and ozone as well as the stench of charred meat enter her nostrils; she trembles with groans of pain from the infliction.
The strike appears successful, for Hisame in no way moves from their spot, apparently in a state of shock via electrification. Until she lifts her and rolls her head left afresh, revealing the hateful right eye while she continues to frown. Is she truly effectively affected, or does the moving skin of her sword arm, smearing itself over the wounds in full restoration, foretell only of futility?
Hisame's veins burn with hot adrenaline as her heart sprints in anticipation for the woman to strike; however, then the laughing lady circles bemusedly like a lioness does a deer. She keeps her front facing them with timely turns of frame, her tilted head apparently locked into its macabre position. When they strike, she is ready to curtail an intrusive projectile.
The knife sails, coveting a flirtatious taste of her tender throat. Hisame simply shuffles two steps to her right, rolling her head back and letting it fall left like a broken doll with a bony crack as her eyes stick to them. There she waits, although not without a curious tingle tickling her sword arm. It pesters, begging she pay it mind, but she refuses; her fascination is the would-be butcheress and their scheme's fruition, whether it's capable of keeping promises or yet one more disappointment in delivering death.
IAmTheIsland