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 Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 8:21 am
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 8:22 am
The Four Great Regions 1 - Main District
2 - Commerce District
3 - Downtown/Slums Diraen: The Infinte Tundra Capitol: Shaiel of the Desert 
Military Ability (Out of the four regions): 2nd in grounded army, 1st in battalion of mechanized units including recon, tanks, and multiple "Armadillo Landcruisers", 3rd best naval (sand/land boats), 3rd in aerial capabilities (manned, non-shelled aircraft).
~~~ Cefiro: The Expanding Plain Capitol: Tesolae of the Ridge 
Military Ability (Out of the four regions): 3nd in grounded army (mostly long range), 3rd in battalion of mechanized units (they have two drilling units when fighting on mountains, but besides that, nothing), no naval forces, 1st in aerial capabilities (manned bombers, fighters and blimps).
~~~ Undinae: The Moonlit Seaboard Capitol: Dominium of the Coast 
Military Ability (Out of the four regions): 4nd in grounded army (1st when shooting down/while in their city/in water), 2nd in battalion of mechanized units, 1st in naval forces (almost unbeatable in naval warfare), 2nd in aerial capabilities (magnificent recon, no means of attack)
~~~ Iselia: The Smoldering Wasteland Capitol: Irides of the Cinder 
Military Ability (Out of the four regions): 1st in grounded army (fastest moving, best armor and incredibly resilient without it, lack of real organization), 4st in battalion of mechanized units (Cherebel made, but not as sturdy as any else's), 4th best naval (none), 4th in aerial capabilities (none though they've come close to stealing Tesolae's blueprints many times).~~~ Places of Interest
Capitol: The Isle of the Spirit (Center) West of Shaiel...off the coast of the rather small and oceanic region...secluded from the wars that constantly ravage the mainland is the getaway spot that can be described only as dream come true. Ah, the Neutral Zones, the eternal tourist trap. The honeymoon capital of the world. The place where all ones dreams may come true even if only for one night. While it's neither a nation, nor a city, it's still governed as such and for good reasons. Ms. Paola Autieri, the curator of this fanciful territory, runs the triplet of islands and also plans many of it's wondrous parties, celebrations, sporting events and concerts. The left most isle, The Isle of the Mother (Left Isle), is where the sporting events (such as the world renowned sport of Blitzball) are held. The Island of the Father usually features more contact sports and often times seen as the more physical of the islands in terms of it's forms of sports and entertainment. Along with Blitzball are other sporting events such as Boxing, Mixed Martial Arts and things of the like. The Isle of the Father (Right Isle), a creation and present from Marcove to the curator of the Neutral Zones and to his late father Dulceri Shaiel, is seen as the more peaceful, refined yet secretive Isle out of the trio. (As a result of being a creation of Marcove's, half of the revenue generated by this Isle goes to him.) As it would seem, the Isle of the Mother was built to appeal to more to adults and their tastes unlike the Isle of the Father which is crafted to appeal simply to the senses of everyone. The events and attractions here appeal less to the body, but more to the mind though there are a few areas though that could leave a man or a woman thinking otherwise~ In short, this is an isle for everyone during the day, but usually only for older individuals at night. Last but not least is The Isle of the Spirit (Center). It is on this Isle that most, if not, all of the true festivities take place. The concerts, the dances, the high priced dinners...if one is lucky, astronomical events may be observed here as well. Much like the Isle of the Mother, this Isle is where people go to indulge. Much like the Isle of the Father, there is almost nothing here that isn't family friendly. If one searches in the right place though, they will find something...interesting to say the least. For all the glitzy and glamorous shows that take place here, there is a price tag and a hefty one. The price of upkeep on this isle as well as the rest have turned many off from this place, but still, those very same individuals can be found saving up funds simply to visit this place even if it's for the one and only time in their life.
The Neutral Zone has no real army, but it has a coast guard and terrain guards. Most of them are enlisted from the various nations around meaning almost none of them are residents of the Neutral Zones. Because of this, it has been under frequent attack. With the help of Marcove and Signa, it has remained safe thus far. For the sake of all pleasure seekers, families and those who simply wish to escape, it has to remain that way...
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 8:23 am
Rules I Guess...
We know them. Not even gonna waste time with this section.
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 8:29 am
Profiles
Name: Marcove Shaiel
Age: 24
Region of Allegiance: Diraen
State of Origin: Shaiel
Military Ranking/Social Status: The Leader of Diraen Region/International Weapons Dealer
Appearance:
Personality: Marcove is a refined man that has found justification in both his status and his income. Because of this, he's rather cynical, brooding and at times morbidly condescending depending on his disposition. Ironically though, he remains rather optimistic in times of struggle. Whether or not this is because he knows he has to have some redeeming quality or because he's rather confident in the ideas and tactics formulated by himself and his generals will never be known. Not even those who know Marcove closely could tell and at any given time would easily suggest both.
The Leader of Shaiel has seen many triumphs and successes in his life. His gains, whether they be monetarily, personally and regionally, has done nothing except bolster his self-image. Unlike most people who've had such a life, Marcove is rather quiet about himself even to the point of being mistaken for being shy. This man is anything but. Only when questioned or angered does he reveal himself to be rather cocky or arrogant. Unfortunately, this man has a short fuse and doesn't tolerate anything deemed as "stupid" or "useless". As a man of power and status, he's been trained by time to be far more potent with his words than his already frightening abilities.
At times, they find it hard or almost impossible, but his handful of close friends and remaining relatives have come to love Marcove dearly. Alas, his hunger for wealth, power and regional stability usually has him at odds with them. Because of the visible emotional damage and his passion to keep all that he cherishes alive ,purposefully he keeps those he quietly considers important at arm's length as he knows his way of living, his mannerisms and his ambitions will only hurt them more in the end. All in all, Marcove is a man of class and poise and operates with a remarkably clever, but strikingly aggressive mind. His solitude, within which many people will find him is by choice as he is aware of just how inhumane or unethical he can become.
Control: Advanced Terrakinetics focused on, but not limited to, Sand. Along with this comes the power to become his element as well as dehydrate things with a touch.
Skill(s): Can play Piano but no other instrument, expert driver through self-training, can cook complex dishes but nothing simple like toast and is a weapons expert thanks to his job. He knows a few magic tricks and is rather lucky at luck based games, but only when betting low.
Weapon(s): The Sword of Iron Clouds given to him by Mariella, the leader of the Cefiro region. It's color is determined by the spirit of the user.
Weakness: Extreme heat causes his sand to vitrify and being damp negates his ability to become sand. Ice can slow it down, but not stop it. Abnormally fast people or objects he cannot catch with his power alone. Objects that are wet cannot be evade be means of sand conversion. For instance, if you swing a wet sword at Marcove, his only option to avoid it is to block, counter or move.
Biography: The best way to describe Marcove's life is to say that from birth, it has gone uphill. Of course, this isn't to say that his life has been perfectly spotless from conception. This terrakinetic was born into Shaiel's ruling lineage which set him up to be the state's next leader should it resist any outside forces. It did. Looking back, one would say that Marcove nor his family faced any kind of threat from the outside world. Where the threat lay was just a few rooms down from his own. Marcove's early life, most of which was spent with his sister Shaerai, was not easy for him.
From birth to perhaps his fifth year, his mother Ambrosia would act strangely toward him, but not his sister whom she seemed to love tenderly. Marcove and Shaerai's father, Dulceri, had taken note of this but kept silent about it. At times when Marcove would question, he'd only give him a hug, read an excerpt from his favorite book or just send him on his way. As a kid of a regal lineage, Marcove was kept from harm as well as the outside world as a whole. Nothing could damage him lest Shaerai take the throne. Dulceri knew this would only spell trouble not because Shaerai was a female, but because he knew Ambrosia would in some way attempt to manipulate her. Marcove all the while moved along with the motions. School was nothing to the intelligent child and math seemed to become second nature.
As time went on and Marcove neared his sixth birthday, his mother's mental health began to deteriorate rapidly. Her mannerisms to both Shae and himself had changed. What was disapproval for him was now outright hatred. What was love for his sister would soon became a disturbing kind of worship. It wasn't until the week before Marcove's birthday that Ambrosia snapped and Dulceri had to stop her. Marcove, unbeknownst to Dulceri, could see it all. The outcome of the gruesome murder of his mother right before his eyes only had him asking one question of his father even beyond his birthday.
"Why?" It was only this word that, for almost a year following the event, Marcove found himself able to whisper.
From age eight to fifteen, Marcove, along with the help of a friend, a maid and a couple of teachers, learned how to make life worth living. The cause of Marcove's deeply settled depression now was the loss of his father whom he loved with all of his heart. Around the age of ten, Dulceri was killed at a star shower event held on the Neutral Isle by The Guildmaster. As a way to fill the gap created by that and the acquisition of the leadership role, the elder Shaiel sibling turned to different things to numb that pain. His sister Shaerai's presence had become all but nonexistent though each day before leaving the Bulb, he'd take a glance at her as she slept. She was the only thing tethering him to his sanity at this point and losing her would only send him down the path of his mother. One of his teachers, a certain Mrs. Deline taught him how to assemble different types of gun. Through this, his teacher noticed that Marcove had a knack for spacial reasoning and architecture as with no knowledge of the dimensions of particular firearms, he was able to sift through a pile of gun parts and repair them as well as repair a bike using the parts mistakenly mixed in. At the behest of his gunpowder crafting teacher and his gunpowder wielding sister, he formed an arms dealing business peddling parts on streets by means of his servants and a few friends.
From ages eighteen to now, Marcove has lived more off of his fortune than he has his inheritance. It through his arising in the financial world that somehow he gained a sense of civility and learned business ethics. Moreover, he became rather humble, quiet and almost shy. Only when being spoken to did he speak. Even then, when he didn't have the answer, which was half of the time, it was either his associate, Sylvie or his manager Avene Deline that spoke for him. Soon, it become obvious that Marcove understood money and it's management, but he had no idea how to interact with others without hitting a nerve of theirs. Deeper into his teenage years a war raged that Marcove found himself fighting in. The opposition was the light and dark nations Aurora and Raspera respectively.
Marcove and Shae fought side by side and together with their generals defended their nation as best as they could. The Bulb was all but destroyed, a few districts were leveled. Amidst the gun fire, his longtime friend and mentor Avene was killed in action. Again, Marcove had nothing left but his small group of friends, his nation that gathered around him to comfort him and his sister whom he knew he simply could not lose to war. From that day forward, Marcove learned just what the unassailable might of money could bring. Defensive measures were taken to protect his family and his nation and his ambitions of preservation has expanded throughout his region.
Other: He has a pet Pangolin and when pushed to his limits, he'll assume the shape of a massive, six story Pangolin. He likes to gamble and is even willing to gamble the lives of clients and money he may or may not have. Thanks to a mental disorder passed down to him by his mother, Marcove has to deal with nymphomania which with great effort, he controls. If 'bothered' long enough by the opposite sex, that side of him can and will manifest...
Nickname: The Spirit of Diraen, The Desert's Cadaver
Creator's Name: Mahareshi
Name: Ebony Carmen Valois
Age: 22
Region of Allegiance: N/A
State of Origin: Dominium
Military Ranking/Social Status: Information Broker/Sexually Liberated Female
Appearance: PICTURE!
Personality: People like Ebony are hard to find and even harder to please. She is the type of woman who walks into your life one moment and vanishes in the next. Her usual demeanour is affectionate and playful but beyond her teal coloured eyes lays a flame that burns brightly with the heat of desire. She is very charismatic and can have anyone hanging on every word she says; due to this side of her she has gathered a strong list of important contacts from all walks of life. While she is rather extroverted and keeps a busy social life there are no known people who can share with you her secrets. She keeps her personal thoughts guarded alongside her heart. Those who have met Ebony will tell you that she can be rather demanding but in such a way that you can’t help but give into her. Cunning and mysterious are two other words that have found their selves tied to this wanting vixen.
Anyone who has ever had an encounter with Ebony would know only too well that she is perhaps a sadomasochist. She is strong willed and not one to feel sorry for herself or for the problems of anyone else. Due to her job she has a great memory for faces, names and places. She never keeps things written down for too long for fear that others may get a hold of the paper. She has however, created her own style of shortlisting and coding certain information to make any thieves job hard. Despite the fact that Ebony is always picking up a guy or three to have fun with, she remains clever and ambitious. She prides herself on completing her jobs/tasks and won’t let anyone get in her way for too long. If she were to feel pressured or made to do things that she doesn’t want to do, she will definitely let you know by any means possible.
Ebony is someone who enjoys earning money by selling and gathering information. Due to how closely she guards her private life only those of whom she has as contacts know that she is an information broker. She is very confident with her looks and will use them in order to win over anyone she wishes to bed or use for information. Ebony prides herself in being able to fulfil anyone’s desire by any means possible.
Control: She is pretty much a human lie detector. She can tell when someone is telling the truth or telling a lie. This has resulted in her being a very good liar herself.
Skill(s): Reading people’s true intentions, telling lies, manipulating people into doing what she wants, fulfilling peoples desires, flirting, gathering information and earning money.
Weapon(s): Chest full of Toys… Twin daggers.
Weakness: Crowded places in which people are constantly lying or telling the truth can throw of her concentration (Likes a pub). She can also find it hard to use her powers whenever she is feeling frustrated.
Biography: On a dark rainy day a young infant female was found beneath a pile of dirty rags in an ally located just outside the slums of Dominium. In such a dark and damp place, only the child’s clear teal eyes were visible against the dreary backdrop. Ah yes, Ebony’s start in life was a miserable one. Unwanted by her prostitute mother and looked down upon by her elite father, she found herself being raised in a brothel as the daughter of the ‘Mother’ who ran the place. Every day she was greeted with the empty, soulless eyes of the women who had all once dreamed about living perfect lives with good jobs and even a family. Now their only purpose in life was to serve the needs of the men who visited during the cold days and long nights. Ebony was not like these women, she had never once found herself hating or cursing her life. She was grateful for the food she received, grateful for the rags that the Mother knitted together to form ugly and unsightly dresses for her. She never once paid much mind to the men that visited the place. After all, it was her job to clean, not to disturb the paying customers. Despite the appalling living conditions, Ebony was always a happy child. She was extremely aware of what it was that went on within her ‘home’ and not once did she ever question it. It was, to her, a fun place to be in.
By the time she was 13, Ebony could name all the customers that had come and went over the years. She could guess what new customers did for a living, what food they preferred and what type of women that would best suit their needs. Her skill of reading people was something the Mother of the brothel simply loved, so much so that she kept Ebony at her side whenever the brothel was open for business in order to speed up the picking process. As the years ticked by, Ebony blossomed into a rather stunning woman. However, it was only at the age of 15 that she really started to show interest in the more physical side of the business. She had always been well aware of what it was a brothel provided and had known all along that her sisters were no more decent than her b***h of a mother. Still, she took all this with a pinch of salt and continued to smile and charm her way through life. By 14, Ebony was starting to show signs of suffering from hypersexuality. Which meant that she felt a constant burning desire to need physical contact at regular intervals, whether this was relieved by herself or by another didn’t matter. The thought of sleeping with the men that frequented her home was not a pleasant one; she was too proud to sell herself in that way. She was not about to settle herself and become one of her Mothers workers. Instead, Ebony packed up and stole a great amount of money from the brothels vault and left the slums that she had loved since her birth, behind.
Managing her illness was never a problem for one as beautiful as herself. What was difficult was earning money when she had never really had much experience beyond cleaning and reading people. Not for one moment did she ever think about selling herself to men. She saw that side of her as something far too fun to simply put a price on. Instead, she began to gain and sell information after discovering just how much information was worth to people. She used her power of telling the truth from lies in ways that she had never done so before. Before long, Ebony had gained a vast amount of contacts all of which provided her with some rather juicy gossip. She was now earning nice sums of money and this helped to feed her addiction in ways that she could never have known without cash. Picking up young men became easier as her confidence grew in tremendous leaps. Before long she was gathering information and even sleeping with the people who were her targets. The fine line of business and pleasure was completely destroyed by her lecherous ways but she didn’t care. That was until she was almost killed by one of her targets. That was enough of a wake-up call to clear her head.
By her 20th summer Ebony had traveled most of the world and found herself enjoying the comforts of a well of life. She didn’t have a family to worry about nor did she own any pets. She was her own person and lived free of restraints. The only thing that ruled part of her life was her little addiction but by this age she was completely used to it and knew how to lesser the urges. Her vast network of information had started to reach the attentions of people in high places and on more than one occasion she had been offered permanent work. Despite some of the job offers being rather tempting and generous, the people who offered were missing something. Ebony was never able to pinpoint just what it was that they were missing but she was still never able to accept the contracts being thrown her way. To this day she continues to sell information for the right prices and enjoys a busy social life. Despite her nature she has remained a rather personal being who keeps her head out of the lime light and in the shadows. People should treat her with care for her tongue is crafted from the finest silver and any words she speaks will be taken as the truth. It is a known fact that words can make or break a man…and Ebony certainly loves breaking men….
Other:
Nickname: Ms. Black
Creator's Name: XxHakaxX
Name: Terenno Penciel
Age: 24
Region of Allegiance: Cefiro
State of Origin: Fiore
Military Ranking/Social Status: 1st General of Cefiro's Long-Mid Range Division/Drummer of Jem's band "Cotton Candy".
Appearance:
 Reference 1
Personality: The Terenno that we know and love today is a stark contrast to what he used to be. Since moving to Cefiro from his devastated home of Fiore, the Penciel man has become far less drab, quiet and unstable. His mental and emotional turnaround can be attributed to the many things he found access to within the capitol of Cefiro. Because of this, the general is a very laid back individual and often finds himself playing the voice of reason in meetings or arguments political or otherwise. Blood no longer covers his able hands and relieved, Terenno remains lighthearted with an outlook on life that he describes as "beautifully forward".
Terenno is an avid spender and will waste the contents of his wallet at any given time. If he sees that one of his friends are sad, he'll take them out to eat. If it's hot enough, perhaps ice cream. If he knows you're bored, he'll pay for a movie and the following dinner. Don't make the assumption that he is a people pleaser though as if he finds himself tired or unable to put a smile on your face, he'll simply tell you that he cannot help. If he doesn't find himself too tired, the choice of music session or a walk is always there.
Aside from being rather talented with a firearm, Terenno is rather clumsy and despite his deductive skills and quick intellect, he can be at times rather bubbleheaded, ditzy and oblivious to things others could pinpoint with little to no effort. Maybe as a way to balance things out, the general is also remarkably lucky. In fact, many things that he would call a ridiculous mishap, others would refer to as a genuine miracle. At least twice, it has been because of tripping or a child's ball to the face that has saved him from being trampled by a horse and carriage. Once, he was saved from entering a rigged room by stubbing his toe. The list of life-saving accidents could draw on and on if Terenno didn't keep most of his past a secret. Within his circle of friends, there are perhaps two that know a good portion of his darker days. A regular associate and longtime friend of his, a Ms. Freya Saxton, has insight into just what makes him tick. His other friend, one he'd explained everything to, has been dead for three years.
Control: As with all the males of the Penciel lineage, he is a Xylokinetic meaning he can manipulate wood. His body is similar to soil in that it can grow different kinds of flora.
Skill(s): Terenno is an expert sniper and isn't one to be contested. When high off of his own fumes, mushrooms or the "weeds" that grow from his back, his visual prowess is all but unmatched. Besides being well versed in gunplay, the guitar and drums, he has good mediation abilities meaning arguments are sometimes easy for him to quell. He can cook, but he tends to burn things. Knows little to nothing about swords and usually through a stroke of bad luck, he can bring laughter out of the most stone-hearted individuals. They may laugh at him rather than with him though...
Weapon(s): A 5ft 6in long Sniper Rifle that, when in war, is on his back and smaller Revolver just in case.
Weakness: Fire of course and dry, arid places with little moisture. High pitched noises prevents him from becoming his element. His teammates will cause him to lose focus under the right conditions. Unstable ground prevents him from rooting himself or aiming. His left shoulder is weaker and can offset him and his ability is struck hard enough.
Biography: Terenno’s early life was very much a struggle thanks to a single man from Cefiro. When Terenno was born, there was a territorial dispute going on in his nation. It was simply a cold war for the most part, but it escalated after numerous covert operations, assassinations and underhanded techniques used by the Fiore government began to threaten the unnamed inventor’s acquisition of the beautiful state. All the while, the young wood manipulator was busy living his life during this time and his parents, part of Fiore’s middle class, did their best to keep him away from it. Terenno’s father served in the war and would return only for hours a month to visit. Because of this, they never could retain the memory of Croix Penciel's face. From birth to age seven, Terenno’s life saw no struggle. It wasn’t until the unnamed inventor found the c***k in the clever armor of the state of Fiore.
It was the winter after Terenno’s eight birthday that the fighting between the mechanized forces of the inventor began to advance deeper and deeper into the beautiful state. The wind that combed through the tresses of green blades of grass now sifted through flushed, dry, bloodstained patches of dirt, overturned stones and rubble. The land was scarred, and soon to join the list of casualties was Terenno’s innocence. While walking home with his sisters one day after going to the store and to meet a friend, the Penciel trio was met with an infantry soldier that had managed to enter the rural part of the state. Needless to say, there were hundreds upon thousands just outside of the borders. Terenno didn’t know this nor did he care. The three were chased into an alley after running along the eerily empty streets. When the man’s gun was drawn, Terenno’s ability shined. His protective intuition surged through him, but the bullets cracked off snapping at the feet of the three children scaring them almost still. Another rang off the ground creating another snapping echo. This bullet managed to strike Erazi in her leg after skipping the ground. After hearing that scream, the young boy broke free of his fear and blasted the man with hundreds of wooden splinters after a bit of the Penciel’s organic gas slowed his reaction time. The man wasn’t killed, but his primary weapon fell before the boy. It was the sniper rifle that he now carries with him.
The three children lifted it, but again, the froze in place like a statue realizing their groupthink. They all were prepared to shoot this man, but at the same time, they knew this gun would kill him at this range. Their assaulter stood, his figure silhouetted in the smoke that filled the alley, and said, "If you're going to hold a gun, you'd better be prepared to use it.." as he brandished his revolver. Penelope's gripped weakened as Erazi's tightened. Terenno's remained steady as almost naturally, he stared into the rifle's scope. With the heavy gun held at his shoulder, he pulled the trigger. The threat was eliminated, but Terenno’s left shoulder was all but destroyed after the recoil. As the three children and the severely injured man lay there a few feet from him, the eldest Penciel could make out a few words that gurgled from the assailant.
“You...you've done well with them...” Terenno soon fainted. He later found himself in the hospital’s ICU ward in a room next to his sisters and his mother. He could hear her sobbing next to him and each moment passed, he listened to her sad song which filled him with confusion. For three days, Terenno and his sisters would hear this and they too didn’t understand. After returning home, there was no talking, no music, no joy. Save for the symphony of war that played lightly across the way, there was only silence.
Many years passed and the Penciel trio slowly began to fall apart. At the age of twelve, Terenno enlisted in the war effort as a sniper who, like his father, became a force to be reckoned with and acquired the nickname, “The Black Collar” from his ‘friends’ who served with him. From the war stories told about the adolescent, his comrades learned that the last thing Terenno's prey would see before death was his coat or his collar. Erazi, as well as Penelope couldn’t attend school as it was unsafe to leave their home. Erazi had shown a dislike in school long before the war so, this, to her, was a dream. To the innocent Penelope, this was simply nightmarish. Their mother had all but detached from the world. Terenno, at this point, thought with no emotion leaving only logic to lead him. After inspecting his mother during each visit, he began to piece together the source of her sadness. Or so he thought. It would be years before he spoke to her about her depression. Until then, he'd go on to amass more kills than anyone else in the resistance.
As the years passed, Terenno's infatuation with the praise received from his peers began to wear thin as gradually, he became disillusioned with the war effort, the merciless killing and the children hunting him for revenge. He'd become what he vowed to remove from the world, but the calling...the sensation of having his rifle push against his shoulder like the endearing shove of a friend. The warmth of the barrel as a bullet exits it and enters an enemy. The warm embrace of a firearm was what he learned to love. Confused, he approached his mother finally, and asked her about her condition. After the simmering argument boiled into a complete farce, she finally revealed to him just what destroyed her life. The man he and his sister killed was their father. She explained to him that he was sent back by the enemy forces to kill off the last of the Wood manipulators, namely, his family. Being a dog of war, he followed order, but purposefully failed so that his children could live knowing how to protect themselves. Angered and distraught, Terenno left the state of Fiore as it began to fall to the power of the unnamed inventor.
Leaving his mother who encouraged the move, Terenno and his sisters escaped to Cefiro by means of a passing train. His friends were left to assume he were dead. He left to assume that his mother was probably dead as well. From then on, Terenno's life has been a puzzle that at a snail's pace, he's rebuilt along with Penelope. There was no getting to Erazi who left later to join the Guildmaster's Alliance. This was at age eighteen. After entering school again, Terenno shed his cold, abrasive demeanor an attempted to enter into a new life. Within two years, he'd changed entirely. It was by doing this that he met Jem, Dazzler and Enoch. Together they formed a band called Cotton Candy. When he worked his way up through the ranks of Cefiro's army, at first as a trainer, he met Aida, Eileen and became friends with Giovanna and Mariella. While exploring the region of Cefiro, he met perhaps his closest friend, an outside asset to his team, "The Invisible Hand" and a Fiore escapee, Freya Saxton. From age nineteen to now, Terenno has lived an easy, peaceful and lavish life and regularly writes his mother whom he sends money to. Molina has not yet left Fiore despite his letter-bound pleadings.
Other: When he's flustered, embarrassed or enamored, certain flowers will grow from him and a curious smoke, usually of a deep purple hue, will billow from his mouth or nose. The latter side effect is usually the only thing to happen and will fill a small room if left unchecked.
Nickname: The Black Collar, The Invisible Hand
Creator's Name: Mahareshi
Name: Freya Saxton
Age: 23
Region of Allegiance: N/A
Nation of Origin: Fiore
Military Ranking/Occupation: Forensic scientist///Biologist///Chemist///Inventor///
Appearance:
 Referance 2 Reference 3
Personality: For someone who is argumentative and inconsiderate, Freya can be surprisingly charming when she needs to be. She is a pragmatic who knows how to use her intelligence and skills to their highest capabilities. Freya is a fairly serious being and despises being surrounded by loud people. She is highly introverted and prefers that she is left alone to her work. She is conscientious and proud of it; No matter the emergency she will always take her time and will often deliver amazing results. Some people will think that she is a rude, inconsiderate and conceited woman who cares not for the thoughts of others. They are right; she really doesn’t give a damn about their opinions. Freya is a big perfectionist in the peak of her creative and inventive prime. She is always doing something and rarely sits still for too long unless she is reading a book. She is cautious of others but she never shows it. Deep down she is still human with weaknesses and fears….You just need to break through her shell in order to understand this.
Control: Plant Manipulation.
Skill(s): Creating potions, cures, poisons, acids and even some weapons. Freya is a great inventor though she tends to keep her inventions for herself and her own purposes. She has an extremely wide understanding of plants through her power and her studies. She is also good at putting on a ‘mask’.
Weapon(s): Various inventions and plants.
Weakness: Fire, smoke, pollution, attention.
Biography:There was no mistaking the tension that played within the shadows of Freya’s childhood. Nor the ever expanding dark fog that clawed its way into the beautifully damaged Nation of Fiore. Despite the cold war that surrounded the trapped rose, Freya remained blissfully unaware. She lived with her family in the heart of the city amongst people of high ranking and social status and was able to enjoy having a complete family for a good few years. Her father managed to withhold going to war simply because he was needed to train new recruits…or at least, that is what he told his wife. Even to this day Freya is still not 100% sure what it was her father did. She just remembered him going out before sunrise and returning long after the sun had set looking tired and older. While her father worked long hours, her mother wrote many books on various plants and trees. Freya can still fondly recall the countless evenings her mother would spend reading her books to her and teaching her many things that Freya still puts to use to this day.
It was apparent that Freya wasn’t your average kid from day one. She was quick to walk, talk and run. Her parents even hired some of the best scholars in Fiore in order to feed their daughters growing intelligence. Despite having scholars at home, Freya still attended a school 5 days a week as her parents felt it would be good for her to mingle with other children her age. However, due to how Freya is with those of ‘lesser’ intelligence she was quick to get into trouble on many occasions. After growing weary of having to constantly visit the school for silly things like ‘Insulted the teacher’ and ‘Made another student cry’, Freya’s parents reluctantly removed Freya completely and opted to keep her at home and under the scholars’ teachings. Of course being very studious, Freya often spent her free time studying and messing with her powers of plant manipulation.
When Freya was 11 years old her home life began to change. It was obvious to the smart girl that the missing maids, lack of new clothes and even a shortage on her favourite snack pocky, were all connected. The Saxton funds were beginning to dwindle and the reason behind this was the on-going war that continued to plague and scar Fiore’s green fields. While Freya was more mature than most children her age she still had her moments when she would act like a spoiled brat, and one of these moments was what aided her alteration from someone with childlike tendencies, to an adult with a mind as sharp as a blade. After being served a dismal bowl of stew, Freya declared that she would not eat such horrid smelling food and unintentionally knocked her bowl onto the floor. Her mother, who had been under a lot of strain lately, cracked and for the first and last time ever she smacked Freya around across her cheek. Stunned beyond belief, Freya could only hold her red cheek as her mother lectured her for an hour about ‘Pulling ones weight and being grateful for what she was blessed with having.’ It was in that moment that the war became a painful fact. The life in the Saxton household had now been affected and like many other families, it had to change in order to survive.
As another year passed by, the Saxton household was brought to a complete standstill as the news of Freya’s father’s death was delivered by a general of Fiore. It had been during one of his rare moments in battle after deciding he wasn’t doing enough to ‘protect his family and Fiore’. Naturally the news devastated Freya’s mother and sent her spiralling into depression. Freya however, remained strong for not just herself but her mother. Despite being only 12, Freya volunteered to help with the war effort. Because of her quick wit and undeniable skills with plants, Freya was accepted into the research department as a part timer. She excelled within the walls and even had opportunities to work under some of the best scientists that Fiore had to offer. For two years Freya remained in Fiore helping where she could and eventually she was able to create plants that would attack the opposing forces. During these two years Freya had stuck her hand into many other scientific fields and she was also given opportunities to expand and put to test some of her secret inventions.
On the day of her 15th birthday Freya was told that she needed to evacuate along with some of the other select few. Freya couldn’t understand why her mother was making her go and because she was still considered a child, she couldn’t go against her mother. Despite her mothers’ good intentions, Freya couldn’t help but see this as running away. On the day of her departure she labelled her mother as a traitor to Fiore. The last words she ever spoke to her mother were resentful and bitter. She swore blind that by her leaving the now broken rose, it would never ever regain its once glorious reputation. “Have they all given up hope? Do they truly think that Fiore will never be able to bloom again?” She watched from the dirty window as her home and her mother grew smaller and smaller until they were both out of sight. She remembered reading through two envelopes that her mother had given her containing information on where it was she was going and how to access a savings account.
Freya was raised up to the age of 17 by the Thornfall family, supposedly long standing friends of her deceased father, though Freya did not feel welcomed in their home at all. She spent her time in the spare room they had given her and rarely interacted with the Thornfall children. (Unless she was really bored and wanted to test out a few plants) Despite her long term hatred for school, Freya was made to attend a local place for a year before graduating top of her class. She was still bad at interacting with normal people and due to her lack of social understanding she was often misunderstood and avoided by the more ‘delicate’ people. Not that she cared, she was far more comfortable when left alone to plot her projects out and study.
On the day that she left the Thornfall family home, she came across an old acquaintance, Terreno, someone who reminded her of Fiore more than anyone else had for the best part of three years. They managed to catch up briefly and somehow…Freya ended up becoming some sort of outside help for his team, The Invisible Hand. She was needed more for her forensic skills than most of her other skills, not that she minded. In fact, this was just an easy way for her to make some hard cash and fund her own little projects. Fast forwarding a few more years, Freya has come a long way since leaving Fiore. She now has her very own house which is pretty much a laboratory…but it does have a bedroom and bathroom. She lacks a kitchen but then again, she usually buys instant food. One thing that hasn’t changed about her is her love for pocky, and thankfully she is able to buy a box often enough to keep her satisfied.
Other: N/A
Nickname: Frey Frey (?)
Creator's Name:XxHakaxX
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2014 3:25 pm
Freya SaxtonSince Ms Valois had begun her journey in search of food, not much had transpired within the room that would decide the fate of Fiore. Beneath the cold cat eared mask, Freya’s eyes had remained tightly closed as many things proceeded to drift through her mind. Many a day had passed her by and none of them had ever ended without a thought of her homeland. Surely tonight a final verdict would be reached and they could bring Fiore out of its cold metallic new age and back to the days of old. The days when it was ruled justly and when there was no fighting and bloodshed. The glory days when Fiore was a nation that could rival its sister nation of Tesolae in size and beauty. Freya’s fabric covered hands were beginning to ache with anticipation and in quelling them, she had been forced to place them onto her lap beneath the table. Her booted foot tapped a steady beat which was surely beginning to get on Marcove’s nerves. Not that she cared. Opening her eyes, Freya turned her attention onto the powerhouse, suave male in front of her. The advanced technology that went into the latest of two suits she owned, quickly displayed various facts and knowledge on the man before her eyes via the screen. Things like his weight, possible weak points (for which there was currently one) and his job title. She pondered as to whether she could remove the helmet in order to get some fresh air but decided it was best not to. She knew that he would hate looking at her face almost as much as she hated looking at his. At that moment, the blank, tinted visor came to life in an attempt to express Freya’s current mood. Though the face of choice left little to imagination as it quite plainly displayed the girls dislike for Marcove. After letting out a sigh, the auburn haired female finally chose to break the silence which has persisted for long enough, to make some small talk…Ebony was taking her time in returning and the empty room was certainly boring “So, Mr Shaiel, is there a reason why you wish to make plans to take Fiore back now as supposed to…I don’t know…three years’ time?” The suit automatically altered her natural voice so much that it was impossible to know it was her speaking. She was pretty much used to it these days. Though the second suit did have a different voice to that of the original suit. Regarding her accomplice, Freya spoke once more “Have you run out of things to play with or is there someone in town whom you are after? Ah…perhaps you wish to test out your newly acquired power?” While the power in question was rather impressive, Freya had no idea to what extent it could be used or manipulated. “Regardless, I only hope that we are able to prevail over the being who rules the thorns…”As the last word left her lips, the sound of Ebony’s designer shoes echoed in the distance. Freya turned her head to watch the stunning woman as she entered the meeting room again but quickly looked away once the food was declared free. Usually, the word food had the whole of Freya’s mind but, she was currently too wrapped up in the pressing matter which would soon be addressed. Everyone who needed to be here was here, except from Terenno. Her closest friend had no idea that she was Savign, something which Marcove derived great pleasure from. He had frequently threatened exposing her to Teri, an act which could destroy their relationship. She needed to keep her second life a secret in order to be able to move around more freely. Not just that but....as Savign…she had killed many people and Teri was someone who served the law. Savign was a wanted woman. Even Teri had mentioned his dislike for her. However, the days of hiding were almost over. It was up to the gods whether Teri could forgive her for her sins. “Are we going to make a start on this meeting or do we wait for Terenno?” Freya had asked the question the moment Ebony had taken her seat. She had no desire to spend another thirty minutes in silence and small talk. The sooner they began, the better.
Ebony Valoise
Trying to remain silent and subtle was proving difficult due to a few factors. One, the trolley which currently housed some bottles of water and a plate of sandwiches, had an annoyingly squeaky wheel and two, Ebony’s expensive court shoes sounded her approach with their personal rhythmic beat. It was most certainly not Ebony’s usual job, supplying meetings with beverages, but she had volunteered for a couple of reasons. The meeting which was about to take place was one between only a handful of people. The nature of the meeting was to discuss the broken rose which is Fiore. Ebony had never been to Fiore in during its glory days, but she had read books about its history. Nowadays, the green pastures and yellow wheat fields have been replaced with steam, smoke, metal and oil. Yet, there was still hope for the once glorious kingdom for even the smallest of souls can change the world.
As Ebony entered a lift, she greeted one of many co-workers who was probably making their way home. She took note of the slightly taken aback glance from the male before smiling to herself. It was undeniably apparent that Ebony was not wearing her usual choice of a small black dress which would highlight each and every one of her gentle curves. Instead, she had prepared a three piece suit in the colour of dark navy blue. It had already caught a few people off-guard that day, including the doorman at her apartment block. There was no display of cleavage or an endless supply of long slender legs. Not today. There was a perfectly good reason for this as well. You see, if she were to wear her usual clothing theme, it would reveal the reddened welts that currently decorated her wrists and ankles. The causes was undoubtedly due to the ropes she had been tied up with only 14 hours ago.
She owed it to herself and to the woman whom she had met the night before to dress more conservative until the marks had completely vanished. Never one for advertising her private life and the illness to which she must abide, Ebony had opted for a quieter day. She did not want people talking about her nor did she want Marcove to see the marks and push her for answers in the most tortuous way possible after all, she had stood Marcove up in order to entertain her new acquaintance. “Lucky for me that I heal fast…I would hate to crawl into his bed with the marks of another person still freshly burnt into my skin~” Ebony yawned softly as the doors to the lift parted and allowed her to continue forth on her journey. She knew was waited for her up ahead.
Truth be told, there was a driving force which encouraged the teal eyed female to head out on her own for snacks and that force was waiting for her return in the meeting room. The force was merely the atmosphere which gets created when two people of equal distaste for each other, are forced to sit in the same room. Their mutual hatred for each other had grown immensely over the last year and it had now reached the level that, not only saw them turning red at the mention of the other person’s name, but neither of them needed to speak to create a scene. The air of hatred was constantly thick and could easily blacken the mood of everyone around them. ‘Surely Marcove and Freya could learn to get along’ was the words Ebony had spoken many moons ago. How wrong had she been...
The weight of the world was once again placed on the black haired woman’s shoulders as she stepped back into the meeting room. Keeping her eyes focussed on the small side table, she walked carefully forwards and began setting out the snacks and drinks. Once her task had been completed she turned her attention onto the two souls who sat opposite each other. One with a visible scowl, the other with a helmet that displayed a straight mouth emotive sign. Even after all the months Ebony had spent with Savign, aka Freya, she still found it hard to get used to the incredible suit. Ebony cleared her throat once and indicated to the table of goodies meekly. “Anyone want a drink? Perhaps a ham sandwich? Well, help yourselves whenever. ” With little acknowledgement, Ebony grabbed herself a bottle of water and took her place on the right side of Marcove. The moment she sat down, Freya spoke about begining to meeting. The teal eyed beauty looked to Marcove. He was the one running the show after all.
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Posted: Thu Jul 10, 2014 8:14 am
A clock situated just above a concealed woman’s head inside of the meeting room ticked and ticked ever so lively as the seconds, minutes and hours fell off into oblivion. Currently, it’s time read seven forty-seven; a rather fitting time considering the purpose of this congregation. It was drawing upon the precipice of night. Nonetheless, as the sun began to lower beneath the burning, golden horizon that was the outward expanse of the desert empire known as Shaiel, the room still received adequate lighting thanks to a few lamps and a light fixture that flickered above the two current occupant’s heads. To the man looking incredulously at his left hand at the short side of the cold, metallic meeting table, little to no time had passed since he received the power both he and his nation now labeled a godsend. Then again, after what appeared to be months passed by, the owner of said ability had taught himself to view the passage of time just as everyone else had albeit with a struggle his closest assistant no doubt help him fight through. Strangely, his new set of skill presented the side effect of viewing the passage of time at a slowed rate. Perhaps the power's natural inclination to whip by leaving only the crackle of heated air bursting in its wake was what altered man's perception of time so greatly. With what appeared to be lightning flowing through his entire being, everything else seemed to lumber oh so lackadaisically. As another side effect, this man, Marcove Shaiel, had grown to detest clocks with a fervor some would call obsessive.
How ironic that before him sat an annoying little thing and an object he wished to dismantle. In his mind, both that girl and that time piece were of the same league. Mere tools only to be used to achieve an end. The clock could not talk and therefore was placed in a slightly higher echelon than the frowning feline in front of him. With only a hint of slight perturbation, Marcove's sandy brown eyes turned to the girl. The edge of his lips were pulled tight to form the scowl that only Ms. Saxton could have him produce even on his best day. The thing, like the clock behind her, was...ticking. She was tapping, but to the Shailean, it was all the same. Slow, thumping....meticulously grating on him like a sculptor's chisel against a block of seemingly impregnable marble. Though past that grumpy little LED mask the business man could not see, he imagined the girl glaring at him sharp, venomous blades though paper thin slits. He felt her hatred through the static she released into the air and it wouldn't have surprised Even now, as her boots thumped the floor with such an aggravating rhythm, Marcove wanted only to strangle the life out of her but not before snapping every bone in her luscious body. Nevertheless, after this day, she may not be a problem to him anymore, but perhaps to her happy tree friend, Terenno Penciel. Thinking of how that sappy man would receive the revelation that his lover/bff/something was a cold-blooded murderer whose latest escapades were funded by him brought a small smirk to Marcove's fatigued visage. That, like this moment, the next and the moment after, passed hastily like the sands of time.
Savign, whether intentionally or not, drew her arch-enemy’s attention with her digitized sigh. He didn’t need to see her mug to know that the empty silence of this terribly lit bunker-like room was starting to take its toll on her. She, like any normal human, wanted answers especially after having to sit her for so long. Shifting his position to rest his chin in the palm of his partially calloused hands, Marcove obliged the witch. “We won't get too in depth until Mr. Penciel arrives. Don't you worry your little red head. I’m sure you could’ve guessed by now that the incident, or should I say continuum of incidents, in Fiore have been quite beneficial to me. There aren’t many metallurgists on this planet so things like iron and steel are in shortage. Along with the Blacksand. As far as I know, there are fields upon fields of it now. In short, I want it all.” Off to his right was the hallway from which Ebony was currently exiting. In no time, she’d be with the duo. “It’s not that I want to test my power as much as I don’t need Fiore’s assistance anymore. Not when I can just take what I want and get you out of my hair all at once. My powers will be tested, Savign. That is an eventuality I see taking place very, very soon,” replied Marcove with a steady hand against the tabletop. Into the room walked Ebony with drinks galore and even a selection of sandwiches for it's occupants. Smirking, he acknowledged his assistant's paltry contribution to the grand scheme, however, Marcove was certain that not even she knew just how big of a roll she'd be playing in the near future. After taking a sandwich from the tray, exchanging a small snicker with the beautiful beast next to him, he returned his attention to Savign. “As an added bonus, once I remove the metal from what was once Fiora, I’ll even go through the trouble of revitalizing the soil for you. What’s beneath that empire of steel is desolate, but for an easy payment, that can be changed in no time.”
Taking from the cart's mid-section, Marcove pulled a bottle of white wine. Glasses had been prepared ahead of time by himself. Pouring himself a good amount of the alcoholic beverage, he offered from his glass a swallow to Ebony. To the feline at the other end of the table, he continued, "I might hate your guts, your entire being and everything else about you, but I love progress even more. Can you stake your trust in my word and my selfish desires? Or will you continue to run and kill until your precious nation is rendered completely uninhabitable? The choice is yours Saxton~"
~~~
"A special guest for myself and...others? What an odd invitation from this man. This self-proclaimed 'King of Kings'." Through the sandy roads that separated the grid-like structure of the outskirts of Shaiel walked a tall and rather lanky pastel-haired Cefirian general. A cowl similar to his hair in it's ghostly hue covered all but his eyes. The money he saved passing up a much needed pair of sunglasses on his way here was now burning a rather deep hole in his pocket. ~It is simply too hot to live in this...this place....~ contemplated the perspiring soul as each step grew longer and heavier. ~Marcove, we couldn't have done this in Dominium? Or Cefiro? Even the North Pole?! Maybe...maybe the heat will deter any private eyes that may be lurking...like Sirvio....~ His purpose for being in this ruggid, arid land was to heed an invitation sent out to him by the illustrious Marcove Shaiel, ruler of...you guessed it...Shaiel. Deep within the confines of his back pocket was the rather flowery invitation that has beckoned his presence within this hellish (to those not used to it) country. As proof of invite, he decided to keep it. His travels to and throughout this land which have consisted thus far of a plane ride, a car ride, a hoverbike ride, a horse ride and now a foot ride, were all equally as hot and stuffy as the thickening air he currently trudged through. Needless to say, all of it had been causing him to sweat a good amount and what was left of that invitation which by now he'd surely forgotten all about, had probably become a damp, unintelligible far cry from the articulate request it once was.
From left to right, the light green eyes of Terenno Penciel, both ambassador and general of Cefiro, scanned the area looking for what was known locally as The Bulb. Having visited the structure numerous times in the past for various international congregations, the man knew what it looked like. As if it's name didn't imply it's shape, it was a spherical structure within which meetings concerning the safety of it's home country as well as others were held. Due to the accommodations that were always readily available to it's cosmopolitan visitors as well as the accolades and praises bequeathed by said visitors, the Bulb was usually the go to spot to discuss intercontinental concerns. Terenno needed not be a detective to perceive that the latter fact was one-hundred percent the reason people chose this place over their own to hold meetings. Biting his lower lip and squinting his burning eyes, the wood-manipulating man prayed that the structure was still fitted with air conditioning. "Odd how this guy calls up a meeting...one that sounds incredibly pertinent.....but doesn't ask my leader to join us. I don't need to be a mathematician to see that something isn't adding up here.....and I'm writing that phrase down to use for later~" Entering Shaiel did fill the man's mind with memories of past visits, parties and other engagements that saw him embarrassing either himself or another. These thoughts were set aside as the Bulb grew like a sprout atop the surface of the horizon. The sun, perfectly aligned with the giant shell of sand, had only it's rays to leave behind as it set for the evening.
Credentials here, secret passwords there, fingerprints and security codes everywhere. There wasn't a doubt in Terenno's mind that this place would be swamped with identity checks and other things of the like. Afterall, this place had a larger influx of people than most other countries save for Dominium. The only reason for that was because the skyscrapers in that nation could house more people at once. In some ways the place made you feel at home, however, while being smaller, the Bulb could make you feel like royalty. After the fifteenth ID check and the fiftieth question, the general hung his coat on a rack positioned outside of the main hallway next to a flight of descending stairs. One of the two men standing guard at the threshold of the stairs was sporting a pair of shades interestingly enough. The hallway was bright, but the sun had still gone down maybe a quarter of an hour ago. Through those darkened spectacles, Terenno could feel that man staring at him...probably wondering who he was like everyone else around here. Stepping past the threshold into the darkness of the dwelling, the anxious Fiorian turned his head to the burly, bearded guard to study his reactions. When paranoia finally set in, Terenno finally said in a weak whimper, "I--I am Terenno Pen--"
"We know who you are! Just get down there already!!"
Seconds later, Terenno was down the steps leaving only a smoky silhouette of himself. The last thing he wanted was to be arrested in a foreign embassy for trespassing and as such, his reactions, although conspicuous, were reasonable. To some degree. The hardest part was over and now would begin the easy part. Simply talking this out, planning a course of action and carrying it out. This special guest whom Terenno wasn't too fussed over could perchance be of some help as well. Their accreditation must've been enough to draw the attention of Marcove. Ah, just their being there must mean they can hold their own weight with this team. When the door was parted, Terenno first saw Marcove and Ebony to his left. Marcove was dressed as regal as a man just exiting bed and Ebony, a woman he wanted to consider a friend, was dressed quite conservatively. Ironic given her personality and other things. Across the table from the duo and to the right of Terenno was a face he'd only seen in street tales. It was Savigne, the infamous intenational assassin. Leaving himself only to reflex and protocol, his right hand, in one swift motion arced across his body. From the sleeve of his checkered lime-colored shirt came a handgun that fell into the palm of his hand. It's hammer was pulled and with a click, it warned the person before him that this was no longer a meeting, but an interrogation. His eyes shifted to Marcove only once for the slightest of moments before saying, "What is going on here? I promise you Shaiel, I'll turn this place into a forest before I let this thing kill me..."
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 6:32 am
Freya and Ebony
Despite the amount of time which Freya had spent working for the great Marcove Shaiel, she had yet to actually get used to his nature and how he spoke. He was a condescending, sadomasochistic, slimy little man whom she would have avoided like he was the plague. However, it was through various matters and events during her life that had forced her and him together. Even as Marcove very kindly answered her question, albeit a little half-heartedly, Freya could not stop herself from picturing a bullet ripping through the centre of his skull and spraying his egotistical brains and muck all over the wall. “In a sense, you wish to cleanse Fiore of all the metal and Blacksand that has been brought into is ecosystem. I have little interest in metals but Blacksand…Well, it can be rather useful and it is worth a fair sum. I am willing to grant you a third of it but not the entire amount.” Freya was not about to let Marcove take complete advantage of herself and her dying land. The auburn haired female let out a small sigh as Marcove continued to speak. She had only seen his new powers a handful of times but she could tell that he was rather smug and pleased with them. “Ahh…I am sure they will be tested, Shaiel. In ways that even you cannot fathom~”
When Ebony came in, Freya allowed her frame to sag with relief. Unlike her blatant dislike for Marcove, Freya and Ebony had formed an unlikely friendship in the months that they had been forced to work alongside each other. She followed the femme fatale’s movements like a cat watching a mouse scurry by. It was rather amusing seeing a woman of high intelligence, succumb to the meagre tasks that even a normal receptionist would despise performing. Yes, Freya was still oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere that she and Marcove usually conjured up together and led to Ebony leaving the room for moments at a time. She just assumed that Ebony loved serving people drinks and food. The screen on her mask flashed a smile in Ebony’s direction but the mouth quickly turned into a straight line as her attention went back to Marcove. “My. You are being so very kind, Shaiel, and I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. However, do you really think that you alone can perform all the tasks necessary to see Fiore restored? I will pay whatever sum you want, within reason of course. However, the deal will become null should you back out or fail. I believe that would be only fair~” The lilac eyed cat woman gave a sneer behind her mask as Marcove asked for her trust. He was surely asking for a lot from a person who hated him with equal passion. She sat up straight and crossed her legs.
“I will trust you word, Shaiel. Should you go back on it, I will continue to run around killing people but with a slight difference. Namely those you care for shall be making my list. I have not come this far only to be put down at the last hurdle…” While she could be hard to take seriously at times, there were plenty of moments when Freya should never be taken lightly. Armed with her intelligence, her need for vengeance and freedom and her passion for taking back all of what was hers, the little woman was certainly a dainty bundle of surprise. Throw in her power over plant life and the two suits she had, well she was a dangerous human weapon. From the right side of Marcove come a strained laugh. Curious, Freya looked over at Ebony and tilted her head to the left.
“Ahem….Sorry…I just….remembered a dirty joke..” Ebony Valois the powerless time bomb, had successfully broken the topic of killing loved ones and pulling the wool over each other’s eyes, for even she knew that such chatter would never end well...at all...She graciously accepted the swig of wine that Marcove had offered her from his glass and cleared her throat once more. She had entered the room armed with food and drinks but even the temptations that she offered paled in comparison to the talk of Fiore and Blacksand. While Ebony would be only too happy to see Fiore restored and handed back over to Freya with a golden bow on top, she knew that there was a lot of work to be done. Not only that but…she knew how hard it would be for Freya and Marcove to reach and fulfil a common goal. The blacked haired beauty stared into space as silence once again claimed the room. Finally, she slapped a hand on top of the table and stood up to procure a glass of wine for herself. “So, I was informed a short while ago that Terenno has been spotted in this general area. I would calculate that he will be with us in less than 5 minutes. I would recommend that the pair of you act civil and try to withhold from ripping into each other too much” Ebony couldn’t help but feel a little like a mother scolding her children and warning them to behave appropriately when their elderly grandmother turned up. No bickering, no fighting and no battles including powers.
Watching the slim wine glass fill with liquid, Ebony grimaced to herself as she recalled one of the reasons Marcove had called this meeting. He was going to force Freya into a corner and have her remove the one thing that protected her identity. She could only guess as to how Terenno would react to the startling revelation that his young, innocent and shy girlfriend was actually a cold hearted killer who used her inventions to slaughter people mercilessly. Of course, this particular agenda was planned without Freya’s knowledge. If she had known, she would have refused to show. Although…Ebony looked at Marcoves back as she returned to her seat with her glass in hand…Marcove would have still revealed the information to Terenno even if Freya was not present. Somehow, Ebony still remained faithful and respectful of her boss yet she still regarded him with caution and fear. She may know his weaknesses but he knew hers just as well. Despite the danger that came with working for him, she had preserved and put all her energy into pleasing him and fulfilling her job requirements to high standards. With a smile, Ebony opened her mouth to speak with Marcove about the woman she had met the night before and how the woman had resembled him in a few small ways. However, she never got to speak as into the room Terenno trotted.
Freya’s heartbeat picked up and this showed on one of the many popups that was presented in front of her eyes on the screen of her mask. Not four feet away stood her closest and most trusted friend. She had to reframe from reacting to his presence and instead, she found herself reacting to his defensive stance and pointed weapon. She was on her feet and ready to pounce in order to defend herself at a moment’s notice. She needn’t speak a word for the moment as a single word from her could prove fatal. “Crap…Goddamn it Terenno. Calm the hell down and just…put..put that stupid thing away! I have never attacked you before! Why would he----Ooooo…Is that chocolate on the corner of his lips? Did…did he eat my secret stash of pocky before heading over here? I..I will so kill him if he did..” Despite the nature of the situation, Freya’s personality shone through. Even the expression on the mask kinda switched to a more tsundere type of expression.
“Can we all just put our weapons away and sit down. This is a meeting, not a Dominian standoff, ok?” Ebony had barely battered an eyelash at the sudden intensive scenario. “Terenno, I would not allow Marcove to have you killed inside this building. It is a place of business, not murder. So do place your gun on a safer mode. I would hate to have you removed from this premises. It would be an embarrassment for you as the General of Cifiro and for the Shaiel reputation…” Again, Ebony was playing the mother/peace keeper role. Well, in all fairness, she would be the one in the most danger should the other threebegin fighting and shooting. Like many times before, a sense of helplessness filled Ebony’s mind. “If only…” Narrowing her eyes to show she meant business, she gestured for the others to take a seat. “Can we just get on with this now?”
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 10:30 am
The Boys
Even when conducting business with a client he knew he would only be dealing with for no more than a day or two, Marcove Shaiel still understood the etiquette of deal-making. It was only through courtesy and professionalism that his tolerance for the little skinny, mouthy, weak, useless....all of the above, woman remain afloat amidst the troubled waters of discontent. Alas and alack, she did possess something that would benefit himself and others if he owned it. However, at this moment, it was in the greasy, sweaty, fat palms of another man. Ah, how Marcove reveled in the fact that that only thing distancing himself and Ms. Saxton from their ultimate goals now was merely time. There was no doubt about it that the three people who now sat in this room had their own accolades and merits when it came to strategy and calculation; Ebony and Freya especially due to their past and current lifestyles. Marcove, the leader of Direan, has fought a handful of wars and out of them, there was only one that he did not head. That one was his first, and in it, he was but a foot soldier learning the ropes. Terenno, the general of Cefiro, was of unorthodox, yet clever strategy. Where as the man and two women here couldn't think outside of the box in a pinch, it is there that the white-haired sniper shined. Too bad he has yet to arrive.
Seconds fell off into oblivion steadily all the while Marcove, Ebony and Savign spoke with each other. To Savign, Marcove offered some wine by rolling a cold bottle of it down to her. Bits of ice and a trail of condensation were left behind against the steel top of the table as the bottled rolled on down to it's receiver. The man didn't expect her to drink any, but if she did, that would at the very least mean to him that she was comfortable with the way things were proceeding. Away from the feline turned the illuminated mahogany eyes. The taste of Ebony's lips, the warmth of her flesh and the red of her lipstick were still very fresh on the brim of the glass. Looking into her teal, icy eyes, the business man made sure to place his lips just where her's had been. After two swallows, he parted with the glass flaunting a warmer smile unlike those that lit his face in bed. At this point, it was futile to deny any feelings he had for this raven-haired woman. Still, there were many lies Marcove indulged himself in. Denial, pertaining to Ebony, was one of the many that helped him sleep at night. That, along with what had over the months became rather passionate sex. After the taste of grapes and alcohol moistened his somewhat parched pallet, Marcove sight set on his newest business partner who sat what seemed to be yards away. Grinning still, Marcove awaited the presence of a certain man as the footsteps from the stairwell grew louder and louder.
"In a sense, yes, that is what I wish to do. The ecosystem of Fiore returning to normal is but an added bonus of my service to come. Count yourself lucky in that regard as I only want the materials. Whatever happens afterwards isn't my concern." Flat was Marcove in his tone of voice as he replied. Serious nonetheless was he. There was no sugar-coating it...there was no resigning his words to simple implications withheld in his tone of voice or some cryptic nuances in word choice. Fiore wasn't his concern....what that torn down nation currently possessed beneath it's metallic exterior is what he wanted. Perhaps it was his desire to take home one-hundred percent of the material slathered about the barren land that burned him when Savign announced her desired share. "A third?" began Marcove, his composure kept, his professionalism maintained. His eyebrow did raise inquisitively and if Savign's mask was as technical as he believed it was, Marcove knew that the eyes hiding beneath could see that he was ever so slightly perturbed by this. "I suppose is a fair trade. It all will become yours once this coup is carried out and I should count myself lucky for even receiving half. I'd only like to know...when this is all said and done, what do you plan on---" And now finally, the real party had begun...Terenno had finally arrived and no less than a few minutes into the room, his gun was pulled on Savign.
Trained were the keen eyes of the sniper on the masked killer in the room. His arm was steady, his gaze unwavering and his breath controlled to give him all the accuracy needed to lodge a bullet in this person's brain. In this moment, a side of the usually jovial man was revealed...a side even he had locked away only to release on the fields of heated battle. Entirely did he understand the capabilities shown by this monster before him. Nights had been spent with a friend of his piecing together just what this person could do and could not do. Weeks had tortuously transpired and months chipped away into nothingness all the same. Even at this very moment, after having searched high and low for a lead or a clue, only one thing more has been learned. Savign and Marcove were working together...a suspicion even Terenno feared to uncover. Ebony, perhaps the only person he could talk to right now, spoke up when the hammer of his handgun clicked as it readied itself. Briefly, Terenno studied Savign's mask with intent after it shifted to a more...odd appearance. The face displayed was neither happy nor sad...or was it sad? More like impatient....or in denial? Angry, but more or less not so m---blushing? Much in a way akin to the usual expression of an auburn-haired woman he knew, Terenno could not read this thing's face and correctly assume why it looked like that. That alone let him know that the person beneath the mask was a girl...probably one just as regularly confused as Freya whose pocky he'd devoured before leaving her house. Sorry Freya-chan. Licking the corner of his lip free of the chocolate that remained, Terenno exhaled, then lowered the metallic instrument to his side. "Someone has to have him on a leash. Glad it's you, Ebony," said the general with relief. "The safety is on, it is away and shan't be seen again. Unless it has to be. Which...I hope it won't be."
Terenno took a seat before the doorway. This situated him to the right of Ebony and Marcove and to the left of Savign. In the middle of the table, he sat not wanting to be too close or too far from either of the parties present. His eyes constantly shifted between them all as his mind started to run scenarios that would help him understand just what the hell was going on. Before he knew it, he'd eaten a sandwich and a half from the tray Ebony wheeled in behind him and drank a bottled water too. The heat, the travel and the stress had all just been taking a tool on him and if he were able to sleep right now, there would be no hesitation. Feeling as though he was in a snake-pit didn't very much allow him to just drift away however. Things were still not as they seemed and he damn well knew it. "Alright then," he began while leaning forth onto his arms, "Why am I here? And why are we working with Savign?"
"The last horse has yet to cross the finish line. I won't tell you anything beyond what you've just asked, detective-general. There are some details, I'll spare you...out of common courtesy." Marcove's eyes drifted to Savign in that very moment as if to threaten her. Assuringly though, he smirked. As much as he want to wring the life out of her neck, her secret wasn't his to tell, but nonetheless, he'd force it out of her one way or another very, very soon. With the both of them here, there would be no way of him missing what would ultimately ensue. Wasting no time, he thoroughly went on to elaborate once more the plan to save Fiore from it's demise which at this rate was all but inevitable.
Terenno's face beamed with a kind of reserved joy only a person who has been fighting for a cause for years could make. The light was at the end of the tunnel now and with the help of a friend, an enemy and a man he wished were a better human-being, the Cefirian general knew he could grasp it. And Freya....Freya would be so happy to hear this news....oh how he could not wait to tell her and watch her...probably smile afterwards. Regardless, he knew she'd be happy on the inside and that's all that mattered! The tuft of white hair fell onto his folded arms on the tabletop. A sigh of joy exited his body. A shudder left him and it held back the tears he wanted to loose so badly. Now wasn't the time for emotions or sentiments, but instead action and strength. Glancing at Marcove once more, Terenno raised his head like an attentive student, then asked the man with the plan, "So, beyond leading part of your army and Cefiro's what else can I do? I mean, if I can be there to...to just see the one responsible for all of this get what he deserves, I will be in your debt Marcove Shaiel. I know I've borrowed some of your fancy coats in the past and your porcelain dinner plates, but this...this....I'll repay you someway, somehow..."
A waterfall of red wine curved as it met the hull of the wine glass. When the amount wanted was reached, the dark liquid swathed and bubbled until it's surface was flat and still like a calm ocean. To the touch, the glass was cold, but not as cold as the laugh that followed Terenno's humor. There would be reparations in the form of the material gathered from Fiore. That was for certain. Why, Terenno leading his arm and a portion of Cefiro's was probably restitution enough. But, if the wood-brained man wanted to repay Marcove for the duty, then now was the perfect time. After drinking from his cup which now felt like a crystalline grail considering the new power he'd gained, the business man tilted his head and begin to swirl the wine sitting peacefully in it's glass. "What can you do for me? Paying me back for all the coats you've vomited in would be best, but I have an easier idea." started Marcove as another chuckled parted from him. "Well, for starters, you can turn and face Savign. During my elaboration, you asked why would Savign even want to help with a nation she's...oops...doesn't matter. A nation she isn't not from right? Well, what you can do for me Terenno is look at her long and look at her hard. In ten seconds, she'll remove her mask to seal this deal we've made. Afterwards, I want you to look into her eyes...into the eyes of the real Savign and tell her that you love her. If you can do that....if you both can allow that, then we have ourselves a deal. If you can't, then you'd better find someone else to help you."
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2014 3:06 pm
The Girls~
There was something strangely alluring in how someone drank or ate. The look of pleasure that creased a person’s features as they quietly indulged in the simple things that life could offer was an aphrodisiac to a certain black haired female. Ebony was transfixed by Marcoves’ movements and the light that warmed his eyes as he drunk once, twice from the very glass she had sampled only moments ago. While Marcoves lips and mouth were quenched and moistened, Ebony’s had grown increasingly dry and uncomfortable. He knew how to toy with her and he knew what turned her on and off. “b*****d…” was the single word that was muttered under the business woman’s breath as she turned her attention onto to her wine glass and quickly drunk the entire contents. Perhaps this was his way of revenge after she had left him waiting around last night. Regardless of what his intentions had been, he had certainly succeeded in getting under Ebony’s skin which was slowly beginning to warm with a dangerous fever that could not be healed with a damp cloth. She had not been blind to the smile that he offered once he had placed his glass back down either. She noted it but did not return the gesture simply because she had to concentrate on the upcoming meeting and not on the thoughts bodily contact that currently plagued her mind. She would simply have to wait a while before she could force Marcove into drinking more than just wine.
Freya could only ponder as to what the private joke had been for Marcove to produce such a strange and warm smile that almost did not suit his hard features. Putting it down to something obscene, the small female decided that it was probably for the best that she didn’t ask any questions. She had often watched how Ebony and Marcove interacted with each other. Strangely, Ebony was treated as an equal and with a lot of respect on the leaders’ part. While the thought of actually getting along with everyone was a pleasant one, there was no way in hell that Freya would ever be able to see Marcove as anything more than a large pile of s**t. The auburn haired female knew that Ebony frequented the Shaiel leader’s bed, an act in itself that Freya regarded as a huge mistake and a sin, and had often wondered if this was why Ebony and her boss was on good terms. In fact, she had only found out about their illicit affair when she walked in on them. A day that had been forever branded in her mind and remained despite how many times she had banged her head against a door in an attempt to wipe it from her mind. Freya was only able to come back to the topic at hand when Marcove began to speak. Apparently, he had finished with his sicking display of love and affection and was curious as to what Freya would do with Blacksand. Well, he would have to wait for some sort of explanation because Terenno had entered the room and was freaking out way too much.
Freya could only sit back down on her chair and let out a digitalised sigh of dissatisfaction having had the best sniper around point his gun at her head. Once the safety switch had been placed on the gun and Terenno had taken up the location nearest the exit, Freya risked a quick glance in his general direction. She needed to keep her cool for her mask was in tune with her emotions and the face on front would react to whatever its wearer was using. Currently, the emoticon displayed was an amusing mixture of both anger and embarrassment. A sudden need to drink some fluids filled the small female killer as she watched Terenno dine of nearly two sandwiches and a bottle of water, boy if only she could remove her mask and dine of the food which Ebony had provided. Again, her masks expression changed to show a rather dramatic sad face. Her eyes momentarily flickered to the bottle of wine Marcove had rolled towards her. He had no idea how much of a light weight Freya was and that was definitely a good thing. Besides, she was more interested in something that could actually quench her thirst. Not something that could have her bubbling in a drunken mess. Despite her grumpy and thirsty state, Freya sat and waited patiently for Marcove to explain to her good friend, the plan he had come up with in order to save Fiore.
Freya had expected Terenno to become rather emotional and had even expected to see a tear or two fall. Yet, she knew him well enough to know that he would never let those emotions show in front of Marcove. That smug sonnova b***h would never let it go should Teri cry with joy. Still, the way he kept smiling melted the botanist’s heart and had her itching to throw her arms around him and hug it out. “All these feels, man…” Sometimes being trapped in a mechanical cat suit was such a pain. The huge smile that lighted up the masks features quickly fell when Terenno began to ask what else he could do besides leading a part of Marcoves army. “No! Don’t say that you will repay him somehow! He will only use it against you in the future! Goddamn it, Teri!” Having worked with Marcove for long enough, Freya had become adapt and accustomed to how the greedy ruler worked. Nothing was ever for free. Surely, given what she was already offering the sandy haired male, he would be satisfied. And then it came. That cold, cynical laugh which had Freya’s entire body tensing up. The small female could only remain silent and hope that what Marcove wanted was easy enough to give. She could only watch helplessly as the damn b*****d cast out his puppet strings and slowly took control and advantage of Teri’s good nature.
Seeing as Freya had no intention of touching the bottle of wine, Ebony gracefully lent forwards and claimed the bottle for her own. She filled her glass generously while listening to Marcove as he spoke to Terenno. She was glad that all the tension had slowly began to disappear as the meeting progressed. She was also eternally thankful that no one had had been shot or clawed to death. The raven haired beauty was rather bemused by the way Savigns mask betrayed its wearer’s feelings. She could also see how her friends’ hands knotted together. Apparently being in the same room as her lover was taking its toll on the poor girl. How long had it been since they had actually taken it to the next level anyways? Had they even taken it to the next level? One look at Freya, when she was being as normal a girl as she could muster, was enough to have Ebony think that she was still a virgin. She could be wrong though. Every time Ebony had tried to ask her she had been almost always shut down. Without some sort of answer, she was unable to use her truth detecting powers to decipher the truth from the lie. Somehow, Ebony had found herself being slightly jealous of the pure love which Freya and Terenno shared. They had been childhood friends who both wanted to return to their home land and restore it back to its glory days. Momentarily, Ebony looked to the side of Marcoves face and wondered what they even shared. Business? Pleasure? Was it really that simple? Was there always going to be something stopping her from…asking?
And then came Marcoves final move. It hit Ebony like a sharp smack across her face. Was he being serious? Her mouth hung open a little bit as she stared at the man besides her in disbelief. Of course he was being serious. There was no hint that he was merely telling a bad joke “Marcove….” Ebony began but found herself unable to push any further. She was, after all, a curious persons and she wanted to see how far Freya would go in order to save Fiore. The raven haired female had known from the start that Marcove would be tricking Freya into removing her mask. Like the sadist he was, he had wanted to make sure that the unmasking ceremony would take place in front of him. Ebony felt so very uncomfortable watching. She was perplexed by the blank expression that had become displayed on Savigns mask. She had expected to see one of anger but…there was nothing of the sort. Seconds ticked by painfully slow and finally, not wanting to force the poor girl, Ebony stood up and slammed her hands on the table in front of her. The sudden movement caused some of her wine to spill from its glass and soil the expensive mahogany furniture. “Seriously, Marcove? Are you trying to ruin this entire damn deal? I seriously have no idea what is going through your head at the moment! Are you getting a f*****g kick out of this obvious form or tortu---“
“It is fine, Ebony”
The distorted voice came as a shock to the beautiful vixen. She was taken aback enough to silence her rant. “….Fine…” Slowly and without a glance towards her lover, Ebony sat back down before she drunk her wine in total stunned silence. She both admired Freya’s bravery and abolished her partners’ lack of understanding all at the same time. Her earlier turn on had definitely died away by now. How could Marcove play with a couples relationship so easily? He was literally, destroying their trust and respect. She would be damned if he thought that he could rely on her skills in order to get the two idiots to reconcile and work with him nicely...There was definitely going to be repercussions.
“You wanted it to go this way from the start, Shaiel.” Midway through that sentence the voice of Savign had broken and become that of a normal human’s voice. The backlight of the mask faded away and the cat like gloves of the suit were removed to reveal small delicate hands. With her hands free, Savign reached behind her mask and released the clasps that held it securely in place. “Terenno…have an open mind, k?” Already, the soft and intelligent sting of her voice was enough to betray her identity to the most important person in her life. Slowly, the mask was removed leaving behind the flushed cheeks and pale skin of Freya Saxton. Her fingers trembled as they fumbled with the mask on her lap. She could feel a lump in her throat as it grew and expanded. One could liken the sensation to that of a panic attack, yet Freya refused to let herself fall to the floor in defeat. Months of hiding her secret life from Teri had finally come to an end in the worse way possible. She wanted so much to lunge across the table and slaughter Marcove for turning her into some sideshow freak. Lifting her face to stare at her pallid friend, she licked her lips before speaking further. “It’s…it’s always been aboutFiore…I swear on my life…Teri…” She wanted to reach out but she was far too frightened that her touch would only cause Terenno to flee. “Please….just do what…what he ask...I have spent so much time and energy getting to this moment…” She wanted to cry...she already was. This was destroying her on the inside.
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Posted: Sat Aug 02, 2014 2:14 am
Tear and Jerker
Restless fingers curled and cracked with steady unease. Arid lips curved and creased. only to straighten as the simple dreams of a better tomorrow frolicked tauntingly before the trained eyes of the sniper. White hair was stroked back and a homesick sigh departed the subject. Lost was this man; his mind wandered the past long before Fiore, his home. had become the hell it now was. That image of peace that guided and yet eluded Terenno Penciel...that image that lit his very spirit ablaze with drive and ardent fervor was now on the precipice of finally becoming a reality. If not for this dire setting, a laugh my have parted with him. Tears may have parted with him as well. Perchance he could indulge the one person he fought the hardest for with both those things when he delivered unto her this news. The palm of his empty hands began to sweat as the feeling of Fiorian grass bristling within them flooded his imagination. There now stood but only one obstacle that Terenno readily identified as Marcove Shaiel, the man he now saw as a savior and the potential holder of his country's future. Disconcert pending however, the naive general would soon come to learn that his one true obstacle, which in time would seem insurmountable, was in fact himself...
"I want you to look into her eyes...into the eyes of the real Savign and tell her that you love her."
Trailing on the words that parted the lips of the snake-esque man sitting haughtily in the peripheral of his latest victim's vision was an awkward silence that burst voluminously with unspoken intensity. Even the clock whose audible, ever-present reminder bought stability to the otherwise unstable minds now seemed to wain until it too was just another slave to the silence proliferated by the matter at hand. It all felt far too intense like the cracking of a rock yet at the same time simple like the flowing of a fluid. Playing anxiously beneath the heavy shroud of hush that enveloped and further obscured the intent of the seemingly harmless request was the meager song of strained anticipation. Undetectable were the sounds of heartbeats, tightening muscles and hard swallows, however the quiescent rhythm of baited breaths, both natural and auto-tuned, danced jaggedly about the room. Whereas everyone in the room bore an expression of disbelief, Terenno's remain unchanged. A smile here, a nod there. Again, he was none the wiser to anything. Alas, it an odd sensation that dawned upon him as the moment slithered on by....the creeping, intrusive feeling that someone knows something about yourself that you're ignorant to...a feeling only exacerbated when more people are brought into it. Maybe there was something far worse behind the mask that concealed the identity of Savign. Maybe behind the mask was a woman...named Savign. Whatever it was had Ms. Valois sitting in what looked like an awed state. Her reaction was in no way diluted and that alone drew a rather befuddled askance from Terenno. Why would she care about any of this at all?
"Well, alright. Although, I strongly doubt the word love should be used so loosely here, Marcove," said Terenno with a kind of relieved grin. "I don't know about you or Ebony, but I strongly doubt I could love such a...vicious and cruel person." Gathering from his conversations with Ms. Valois in the past, Terenno knew that there weren't many things that could fluster her like this. The woman's eyes were as wide as dinner plates and her skin was flushed to a near porcelain complexion. It was more than apparent to Terenno now that it was Marcove's aim to elicit some kind of response from him. Why else would this task require such a powerful word like Love? That smug grin that contorted the serpent's lurid, tired features only served as another implication as to what was truly at play here.
"Oh, I think you can, Penciel. Isn't that right, Ebony?" All the while the woodman of the hour sat motionless in his seat, his mind vexed and his eyes staring quizzically into the LED mask worn by Savign, his thoughts began to circle one another leaving only a maelstrom of ideas to contend with. It was then that the little Cefirian's features cracked with insight...chipped with miniscule discovery. Ah yes..... aprowl was the moment of reveal and Marcove, like a bloated, hungry beast ready to tear into the flesh of it's prey, sat in the midst of it all with a sly, contented smile unlike any other.
From Ebony came a utterance. b*****d? Perhaps she didn't want Savign revealing herself here? Terenno assumed that Savign's secret was her's to keep and maybe...just maybe Ebony didn't want her to reveal it here. Peace no longer knew a place in this room thanks to Marcove and still, no reason as to why came to the perceptive man. Those emerald eyes were now slitted as they stared rays of confusion at Ebony, a person whom to some extent, he considered a friend. Maybe a simple question or two wouldn't hurt. Right? "I---I don't understand what the problem here is. It's just a person in a catsuit, right Ebony? If it's a friend of yours that you're trying to protect, then I'm sorry. I still hav--" Alas, that wasn't the case albeit entirely. His question would go unanswered, for as he spoke, Ebony spoke louder. A small flurry of heated words were flung at Marcove like bullets from an automatic rifle. Through the storm of words though, the Shaielean sat unscathed, still smiling....still waiting. A voice peaked over Ebony's. It was small, measly almost, yet it possessed a mettle that Terenno could only described as constantly tested, but never broken. As it went on, it began to falter and crack as if it's fortitude was rapidly deteriorating. With what appeared to be Ebony's consent, it all continued apparently the way Shaiel wanted it to go 'from the start'.
"Um, she doesn't have to take the mask off guys...I can just say what I ne---eh? And open mind? ......N-no....." Gradually, it started to add up. The pieces began to fall in place and the larger picture slowly etched it's way into plain view. Savign's voice, so airy and light as the modulation of her mask died down, rang with such a familiarity, Terenno could not help but be bewildered and at the same time oddly enlightened. The snaps that held the mask comfortably against the killer's face were undone leaving it to hang freely in place. A delicate, ghostly pale hand arose to lift it after slipping out of the bladed gloves used to claim so many lives....the mask was removed finally and there she was...now on display like an animal at a zoo or an accused before her victim. To the right of Terenno sat Freya Saxton, the woman behind the mask.
"Has your nescience finally dawned upon you, Penciel?" asked Marcove from the wings of this play before him. "Have you realized yet your own benightedness?" How goading and tormenting his words sounded posed the way they were. There was however a shimmer of pity in his voice.
"I--I..." Eyes wide and his mouth partially agape, Terenno sat in his seat clearly in a state of shock or trauma. His sight seemed not to stop at Freya, but rather pass through her into infinity. Her complexion, the same porcelain hue that Ebony now held, served as an indication to how anxious she also was. Terenno, ever perceptive, noted that. Not that it mattered now....at this moment, little to nothing seemed to matter. His dying mother in Fiore who by now was probably crazed out of her mind, his sister resting at his current stay in Cefiro...all of his friends he'd lived to honor from long ago. Like the sands of the desert, it all seemed to just fade away into the nothingness it inevitably would've. "Do I...realize?" began the young man as his fingers began to brown and his wrists began to partition themselves into rootlike fixtures. "Do I realize my what? The only thing...the only thing I realize is......don't you swear on your life. Not to me. Not now!" Hadn't it been for the simmering glancing down to the table, his rooting arms would've probably enveloped it's midsection entirely. The decorative candles were now immersed in bark and possibly crushed beneath the force of Terenno's grip. Thankfully, he was able to stop himself before he could cover everything in his element. As the stems, darkened branches retracted back into his person with the creaking noises only aged wood could make, Terenno found himself seething....aching....choking in this room now. His left hand now gripped his right and his eyes were forth as to avoid bring either Freya or Marcove into his sight. How long had he known about this? How long had Ebony known? Did they not tell him to protect him? And if so, why now did Marcove choose to do it? Once more, Terenno's fingers spread out atop the table before a loud crash rattled the room. It was his fist slamming against the tabletop.
Another period of silence followed in tow. All the Cefirian wanted to do now was walk away from it all leaving only an overturned chair and a flipped desk behind him. That, at the time, wasn't an option so instead, his fist was brought to his lips and the curvature of his index finger was gnawed upon. Freya's voice echoed in his mind like a destructive chorus and finally, Terenno found it in himself to respond. "You've spent so much time and energy getting to this moment? The only thing you've spent time and energy doing Freya is lying to me about....about all of this! The only thing you've done is slaughter men and woman and for what? All these hours I've spent trying to capture this killer to protect you, my family and friends...and it turns out the you're the one. If anyone has spent any time and energy here, it's been me trying to stop you so that I could focus on Fiore again!" A flicker of a moment and Terenno relinquished his sight to Freya. "I suppose it's understandable. Besides your research which I've rarely seen you conduct, I've often wondered what you do to achieve such a level of fatigue. I guess I have my answer." The limited number of words given to the red-haired woman next to him was only a fraction of the number of things he wished he could say at this moment. Nonetheless, for now, they'd have to suffice where his broken and beaten stare couldn't. His expression wasn't that of hatred as said before. Instead, it was one of defeat or betrayal. Feeling this, Terenno lifted his hands to his face letting loose a sigh into the palm of his hands. As is fingers lowered to reveal reddened eyes swimming a pool of held back tears, he said to Freya once with broken breaths, "I loved you, Freya Saxton, but no longer. I hope that will suffice Shaiel... because you'll get no more than that from me..."
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Posted: Thu Aug 07, 2014 5:01 pm
((The Lovely Ladies~))
Ebony could find herself involuntarily flinching at each unknown insult that Teri flung at the girl who hid from him in secret. To say that he could not love a vicious and cruel person was made all the more worse due to whom the comment had been aimed at. Fingers grew pale as they balled up into fists and clenched to each other in a feeble attempt to keep calm and focussed. Marcove always had a reason for how and why he done things. While it was unclear to the raven haired woman next to him, she was almost certain that she would grow to understand his sordid motives. “Even the most vicious of people deserve to be loved, Terenno…” Ebony’s voice had surprised even herself but it all made sense with the small movement of her head that allowed her eyes to fall upon the side of Marcoves face. Even with all the anger she felt building up, she still couldn’t bring herself to hate the man sitting next to her. She was able to understand the words that she had just mumbled with one confirmed glance.
Apparently, her outburst had garnered her some of the Woodman’s attention for he was now addressing her with flurry of questions that she felt no need to answer. Now feeling herself calmed, Ebony felt it safe enough for her to speak in agreement with Marcoves earlier statement. Clearing her throat, Ebony nodded her head in agreement to what Marcove had just spoken “I am sure he can, Mr Shaiel. In fact, he is probably the only one who can love her” Now was not the time to play sides. She looked to Teri, her eyes unblinking but shimmering with a dampness that was all too foreign to the business woman. She shook her head sadly and proceeded to look away in the manner of someone who was shy after witnessing something embarrassing. “Not as sorry as I, Terenno Penciel”
There had been many moments in Freya’s short life that had left her feeling emotionally drained and longing for nothing more than a dark room in which she could hide away from the entire world and all of her problems. This was one such moment. While it was completely different from learning about her father’s death, it affected her in a way that she had never experienced. The sneering, gravel like tone of Marcoves voice went unheard as the little brunette kept her focus and attention on her dearest friend and love of her life. She kept her eyes trained on the sniper as he slowly self-destructed before her. A destruction that she had caused and as Terenno slowly crumbled, images of their long forgotten childhood flashed before her vision. Memories that were idyllic and picturesque set in a homeland that had been absolutely stunning plagued her. Back then they had lived in utter innocence and saw the world through misty eyes. Everything had been an adventure, a learning experience and nothing but fun. Where had it all gone wrong? Why must they always face hardships that destroy what little peace they had managed to nurture and grow?
In front of her sat the puppeteer. The one who had begun pulling Freya’s strings the moment he had found out her dark secret. If only she had been able to escape his grasp before now. While she needed him in order to win back her- Fiore, she could have done without his persistent demonstrations on how much she was under his thumb. Despite how ashamed the young Fiorian was, she kept her eyes on the only person important to her. She had felt his powers spike before the effects began to grow and become visible in the root-like colouring that transformed his hands. The low creaking and crackling sounds that emitted from Teri set Freya’s teeth on edge and she had almost expected the intimidating tree like creation to envelope the entire meeting room and to squeeze the life out of the souls trapped inside but it never happened. Like when someone wishes for the ground to swallow them up, the auburn haired female had hoped that Teri’s powers would erase her from existence. As if to go against her silent plea, the woodland creation slowly retracted back to its manipulator forcing Freya to look down at her lap where her second persona’s blank face stared up at her both mockingly and hauntingly. A loud crash inside the room elicited a shocked jerking movement from the small botanist who, in a panic, looked up to the Cefirian General whose fist was planted firmly on the tables’ top.
“I never meant to lie to you! You know me better than that, Terenno!” Freya’s tone was shrill yet pleading. It was quite possible that this was the loudest she had spoken for the best part of 3 years. Her hands balled into tight fists as her lilac eyes tried to get Teri to look directly at her and not through her. “I cannot deny that I have killed both men and women b---but…they were funding Fiores current leader! They were not just random killings! There is a link if you just took the time to look closely! I never once killed an innocent person or bystander. Each target was…was corrupt and needed to die…I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted nothing more than to put and end what I had begun and hand myself in but….I couldn’t…” Her voice begun to crack and fall into an abyss of silence. It hurt her to speak as the lump in her throat reached its final stage and left her choking back sobs. Her cheeks grew warm and turned pink as the weight of what was happening hit home. Each word spoken by Teri was a slap to her face but he was right. She had spent more time as Savign other the last few months that her private life and research had been all but forgotten. Her own welfare and her relationships with her friends and boyfriend had all but been beaten to the ground, cast to one side like they were completely worthless to her.
The sensation that caused her lower lip to tremble like the wings of a humming bird was the one thing that forced her to remain sitting because she knew she would only fall down if she tried to run. Through foggy, Freya watched Terenno lift his hands to his face and sighed in defeat. An action that could only mean he was coming to the end of what he wanted to say and hear. Like a song reaching its crescendo, the moment of truth had reached its bleak destination. Beyond Teris lowering fingers were pain filled eyes that swam among bitter salty waters. “Please…d-d-don’t..” In a crazed panic, Freya looked for support or back up from the other two people in the room. She found nothing but sympathy and nothingness.
"I loved you, Freya Saxton….”
Her hands trembled and clung to the fabric of her unique suit in an attempt to cover up her evident fear for the words that Terenno uttered. The air was getting harder to breathe. Slowly, Freya felt herself drowning in the despair that would consume her entire being leaving only a husk behind.
“…..but no longer. I hope that will suffice Shaiel... because you'll get no more than that from me..."
Like the stillness of the night, the silence which followed Terenno’s declaration appeared everlasting and overwhelming. The hollow growl of the air conditioner was the only sound to be heard and while its persistent groan usually irritated a person’s nerves, it was very much welcomed now for it reminded each person of where it was they were. It was a few moments later that another sound joined the pity party. A strange, soft hiccup like sound broke the pattern like a pin bursting a balloon and was followed by another…and another…Gentle, heart wrenching sobs cascaded from pale lips and mingled with fat teardrops, never to be recalled again. “D-d-don’t sa—say….that…T-T-Teri…” Ah, how enlightening it was to be slammed down to earth or to feel the full weight of a sledgehammer as it crushes your heart. The pressure was surreal but it also felt similar to that day a few years ago when Teri had accused her of cowardice for not fighting to save Fiore. She had been naive then but now with years of experiencing what it was like to have friends and to feel loved….She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Teri again. This time round, Freya would be losing more than just a friend….
Standing now, Freya was unaware that her body was beginning to search for an escape. “I….I should go…” Embarrassed was not the word. Heartbroken, shattered, agony and lastly betrayal were far more worthy for the destroyed woman. She felt tethered and on display. Declawed like circus bears and clipped like caged birds. She was on display to the delight of people who all obviously hated, pitied, looked down upon, used and abused her for mere entertainment. Three people whom picked at all the faith and trust that she had left in herself and in the world. “You may stop loving me now and back when we were kids playing war games but….I will never stopped loving you then like I will never stop loving you now, Terenno Penciel. I may have injured your ego and heart but you have obliterated mine….And yet...you wonder why it is I couldn’t tell you about who I was, who I am and what I may become in the future…Heh…” Somewhere between her words, Freya had made it to the glass double doors which lead to an outside balcony.
The room was abuzz with cool crisp fresh air as the doors were carelessly flung open with more force than intended. She hastened to hide her red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks by fastening the mask back on her face. She turned her back on the people…no…the predators…“If you knew what my heritage was….you may have a simple idea as to why I constantly have to take detours away from the path that you’ve been traveling along in life…Fiore is mine and I would give up my life to see it set free….If you cannot understand that…then I suppose…this was for the best…” Lowering herself into a crouch, Freya activated the auto tuned voice in preparation for her task that would be fulfilled after a month of waiting. “I’ve not forgotten about my job for tonight, Marcove…” Every ounce of acidic hate that the girl had for that man was poured into the way she pronounced his name but even that was too light “You will have your victims head laid on your pillow by midnight….” With nothing left to say, Freya…No…Savign, propelled herself forwards and vanished over the balcony’s edge…
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